LOVE ‘EM(14)

The waiter returns and sets the cocktails before us just as a big ol’ boy with a bad comb-over passes by. Oh, he’ll fit perfectly into my plan.

Fuck. We need to get to business. I relinquish my hold on Ronnie long enough to stir my drink with the tip of my finger.

I slip my hand beneath the tablecloth again. “All right, ladies and gent—”

This time Ronnie’s ready for me. Legs spread, pussy slick. That sly thing, she managed to divest herself of her panties when I wasn’t paying attention. Fuck. We may have to skate out of here early.

I’ll be quick about this so I can get a taste of her peaches. “Okay. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Ronnie’s legs snap closed, and she pushes my hand aside. Then she yanks on my cock—and not in a good way—as she bites out her words. “So, you’re really going to choose some random guy. I’m supposed to entice him to fall in love with me—and then you plan to sic my best friend on him to see if she can seduce him—thus ruining my career when he gives in? Because he will. Something like ninety-seven percent fail the Shayna test. She’s exceptionally good at her job.”

I pry her finger nails away from my pecker. “Whoa. Slow down. I thought we’d all agreed on this wager? My audience expects it. It’s going to be a real problem if we don’t provide what the public hopes for. A problem for all of us, not only me.”

“Too bad.” Shayna tosses her napkin onto her plate. “I’m not so sure I’ll go through with this. You’re asking me to ruin my friend’s career.”

Ronnie massages her temples. “He’s right, Shay. We’ll all suffer. Let’s just do it and see what happens. Maybe it won’t be that bad. Maybe people won’t even care. Maybe I’ll be spared a lifetime of embarrassment by a record-breaking earthquake.”

Shit. How’d I go from getting a hand-job to threatening my date’s job in the time it takes a rabbit to fuck?





The air stirs around the table; I yank my shawl around my shoulders, tucking the edges between my thighs. What the hell was I even thinking? Have fun? With him? He’s rude and crude, a socially unacceptable cad.

He points to a heavy-set guy, probably pushing forty, with a six-finger forehead. “Him. If you can pull anyone in and make them grateful to have someone to love, it’s got to be him.”

Shayna huffs. “You want me to try to seduce that? Seriously?”

I elbow her.

“What about me? You may not even have to touch him. I, on the other hand, will have to run my fingers through—” A shiver runs through me at the thought of touching the unkempt slug of a man. “—ick, he looks so greasy.”

Shayna and I turn on Jackson, both of us glaring. “No.”

Jack holds his hands up. “Fine. Okay, let me look around some more.”

He pushes out of the booth and strolls around the dining room, perusing the choices of unattached men. Finally, he stops and points, not so discreetly, at a tall black guy. He reminds me of that guy on that FBI show, the one with the light eyes that calls the techy chick Baby Girl.

Shay turns to me, brows raised in question. I shrug.

Jackson returns to the table. “So? Does he fit the bill?”

Shay lifts one shoulder.

“He’ll cheat,” she says, matter-of-factly.

My jaw drops. “You don’t know that. He could be the very loyal sort.”

“He could be, but he’s not. He has the look. Then again, I wouldn’t kick him outta bed, so whatever.”

Baxter crosses his muscular arms, scowling. “But you won’t—sleep with him, I mean. No more than a few kisses, right?”

Shay rolls her eyes and then stares right at him. “Fuck and release. I told you, fuck and release; that’s the policy.”

Baxter’s mouth hardens, and the muscle at his temple works overtime.

Jackson slides into the booth next to me. “You okay with that guy? If so, I’ll get a picture of him on the sly. It shouldn’t take my crew long to figure out who he is.”

A huge sigh seeps out. “Sure, why not? One poor sap is as good as the next, I suppose.”

The idea of purposefully fooling someone doesn’t sit right with me. But I’ll be damned if I can figure out a way around it. I can’t afford for this to crash my career. This is my chosen profession. There is no plan B.




Cindy, the petite woman from Jackson’s staff, puts the little camera pin on my lapel. “Okay, just remember that if you need privacy, you’ll have to turn it off. Bathroom, intimate moments, whatever.”

I nod. “You guys can see it all. Got it.”