Just One Night(27)

“Find someone else.” His eyes went to her mouth before he tore his gaze away.

He released her hands then, moving around her and going back to his copper still

and pulling his stupid tool out of his back pocket as though the whole exchange

had never happened.

But his hands were shaky and his motions jerky where he crouched in front of his

stupid whisky pot. That exchange had definitely happened. And he wasn’t nearly

as unaffected as he wished.

Inspiration struck.

Maybe the way to get exactly what she wanted was to give Sam a taste of what

he thought he wanted.

Find someone else, he’d said.

Using jealousy as manipulation was the oldest, lousiest trick in the book, but it

was the only one she had left. She moved behind him, noting the way his

shoulders tensed as he heard her approach.

When she was alongside him, she knelt very slowly, very deliberately, until her

lips were even with his ear. “I think you’re right. I think I’ll find someone who knows

how to use his hands on something other than a copper machine.”

“Go for it,” he muttered. “We’ve both been seeing other people for years.”

She paused for a heartbeat, letting her eyes linger on his mouth. Letting the

tension build. “Have we?”

With that, she stood and marched back the way she came, her mind already

scrolling through her mental black book.

Riley heard the clank of metal against cement seconds before she heard Sam

utter a string of heartfelt curses.

She smiled. He was right where she wanted him.





Chapter Seven


Sam thought she’d been joking.

No. He hoped she’d been joking.

He sure as hell hadn’t been prepared for her to show up at her nephew’s First

Communion   party with another man on her arm two days after she’d

propositioned him.

And just what had she meant by her implication that they hadn’t been seeing

other people over the years? He certainly had. Not that any of them had mattered.

Not that any of the other women had ever gotten under his skin the way Riley

McKenna did.

But there had been women. Plenty of them. Just like she’d had plenty of dates.

So just what the hell had she meant?

Riley thought Sam didn’t know how to use his hands? Wrong. Because he was

thinking of plenty of ways to use them right now. Strangling her was at the top of

the list.

Right after he punched the toothpaste-model smile off her new boyfriend.

He tuned in half an ear as Riley introduced the guy to her aunt. Brent Barry. What

the hell kind of name was that anyway?

Sam’s fingers tightened around the neck of his beer bottle as he tilted it up to his

mouth and very intentionally dragged his eyes away from Riley and Mr.

Hollywood Good Looks.

Sam joined Liam at the food table. Plucking a corn chip from a bowl, he dunked

it into a seven-layer bean dip that had mercifully been spared Erin’s special touch

with potatoes.

“So whaddya think?” he asked his best friend.

Liam scanned the room for his mother before flicking a black olive into the sink.

He’d never been able to stomach the things. “What do I think about what?”

“Riley’s new boyfriend.”

Liam grunted. “What does any brother think about his little sister’s new guy?

Douche bag.”

“That’s what I thought,” Sam said, moving on to the onion dip and chips. Ah, there

were the potatoes.

Liam shot him a curious look. “Really? Because you haven’t even met him yet. I

get to say he’s a douche bag because I had to listen to him talk to me about my

Roth IRAs for a good fifteen minutes before you showed up. But … the guy seems

to know his shit. I guess I’ll take that over a go-nowhere loser.”

Sam kept his face perfectly blank, reminding himself that Liam was not talking

about Sam. Sam who’d once upon a time been able to talk corporate finance

lingo with the best of them, only to quit on a whim, to do what? Start a distillery

that had yet to make any money?

Once a quitter, always a quitter, his mother liked to remind him. Often.

But his best friend made a good point. Sam didn’t have to know women’s fashion

to know that Riley’s tastes were expensive. And he didn’t have to live in

Manhattan to know that Riley’s West Village apartment was in one of the most in-

demand neighborhoods in the city.

If she was looking for someone to keep up with her lifestyle, Brent Barry was

perfect.

But if she was looking for someone to sleep with for her story …

Don’t even go there.

“Shit,” Liam said, shooting a glance over his shoulder. “They’re coming this way.

Your turn.”

Sam reached out in an attempt to grab his friend’s shirtsleeve, but Liam was