“That kiss wasn’t worth the spilled beer,” she lied.
“Sweetheart, you’re breaking my heart.”
“I’d like to break your head,” she snapped. He’d ruined everything. She needed this job, dammit. She had to get home. She remembered how he’d ruined her sister’s prom and glared at him. Obviously Tyler was living proof of once a gorgeous, sexy jerk, always a gorgeous, sexy jerk.
Then, eyes narrowing, she dug her fists into the velvety fabric of her skirt. “But instead, I’m going to let you make it all better.”
Tyler’s smile took on a wicked edge. His gaze cruised her curves.
“All better, how?” he murmured, his meltingly flirtatious stare sweeping over her like a tingling caress.
Rita ignored it. She’d be damned if he’d fog her brain with sex thoughts. His eyes traced the curve of her breasts beneath the tight red top, sending a shaft of heat spiraling deep in her belly. Okay, so she’d settle for not letting him know he’d fogged her brain.
Plan B was kaput, so she needed her wits to develop a Plan C. And fast.
“You not only got me fired, Tyler, you lost me my way home.”
Before he could do more than wince, Rita was up in his face, toe to toe as she drilled one red-tipped finger into his chest. And she hoped like hell it hurt.
“You heard Benny,” she said, despite the sick feeling in her stomach. The solution she’d come up with wasn’t one she liked, but it was all she had. “You caused this problem and he told you exactly how to fix it.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that you just volunteered to be my escort home for the holidays.”
CARTING THE LAST BIN to the door, Rita brushed her bangs out of her eyes with her shoulder and blew out a breath. A childhood on the road while her musician parents performed bluegrass, plus her own inability to settle in one place, made moving second nature. A half-dozen plastic storage bins, a couple suitcases and her tote bag and she was ready to roll.
She dropped the bin on top of the hand truck and frowned at the random cardboard box next to her things.
“Shawn? What’s this?” she yelled to her soon-to-be ex-roommate. Shawn trudged out, a huge mug of coffee almost hiding her face.
“S’my present to you,” the petite brunette said around a yawn. “I know you didn’t make enough to cover that last payment on your ’rents gift, so I figured this’d help out.”
Rita eyed the box. It was half the size of her storage bins, hardly big enough to hold an antique record player. “Is it like a do-it-yourself thing?” she joked, poking at the cardboard.
Shawn choked on her coffee. Laughing, she wiped her chin and patted the box. “How’d you guess?”
Eyes narrowed, Rita flipped a glance from the box to Shawn to the darkened window. It was a quarter to five in the morning—the time she’d told Tyler to pick her up. Did she have time to play games? Then again, what were the chances that he’d really show?
“So what is it? A new toy?” she asked, peeking out the window.
Not that she was anxious or anything. Tyler Ramsey was a first-class jerk, albeit one helluva gorgeous first-class jerk. But gorgeous didn’t matter, because he was just a means to an end. Plan C.
She pressed her hand to her belly to settle the dancing nerves. Just because he’d knocked her on her ass with those magic lips of his didn’t mean she was itching to see him again. She hadn’t even put makeup on, proof positive that she wasn’t looking to make an impression.
If he showed up, that was. Which he probably wouldn’t.
“More like toys,” Shawn said, pulling Rita’s attention back to the mystery box with a gesture to open it.
Rita tugged up the flaps, then frowned. She shook the box, staring at the colorful array of vibrators, cock rings and God knew what else as they tumbled together. Mouth dragging the floor, she gave her roommate a shocked stare. “What the…?”
Shawn poked her fingernail at a neon green rubber dildo. “They’re discontinued toys. Last year’s models, overstocks, a few rejects. There’s a product guide in there I printed with their names, features, retail price. Should be all you need.”
Rita goggled, actually goggled. What the hell?
Her gaze bounced from Shawn’s sleepy face to the box of misfit sex toys. “I’m out of a job, homeless and heading to my parents’ for some holiday humiliation. And you’re giving me…the promise of satisfaction?” She glanced at the contents of the box again and added, “Over and over again?”
Shawn smirked. “If that’s how you want it, sure. I figured you could, you know, sell them. Like they do at those toy parties and stuff? These are free and clear,” she assured Rita. Shawn owned an adult bookstore, and while she was a strong supporter of all things kink, she’d never do anything illegal.