Tempting Her Best Friend(12)
Alyssa couldn’t help but stare at the bulging crotch of the cop’s navy shorts. Dixie Normous… Wait, that would imply I’m the one with the— Oh, Jesus, I’m losing it. “I’m no expert or anything, but it looks like he has plenty to work with.”
Her new friend waved his hand dismissively. “That’s because he stuffed his jock. It’s pretty much SOP with all the models. I learned that the hard way—no pun intended—with Officer Merely-A-Misdemeanor over there. Although he makes up for it with this amazing tongue move—”
“Trent!” she gasped. “That’s a bit more information than I need.”
“Right, sorry.” He grinned, not at all sorry. “Sometimes I forget to filter.”
Again her eyes went back to the men. “I’m not saying you’re lying. I just don’t understand why, if they are in fact gay, they’re flirting so much with all the women.”
“Look closer, sweetie. None of them are seeking out the attention. They’re simply reacting to what’s being given to them. It’s their job to sell the fantasy, not reveal their reality. A few are actually straight, but I don’t see them here at the moment.”
“Wonderful,” she mumbled.
As she downed the rest of the lemon drop, a man dressed as a pirate entered through the side door by the bar where she’d seen employees come and go. His tricornered hat hid all of his hair but his black sideburns and his white linen shirt stood out against his tan skin. The sleeves billowed around his arms and the front lay open to his sternum, exposing his bare chest. Black breaches completed the swashbuckling guise, hugging his thighs and then disappeared into loose-fitting black boots.
He caught the female bartender’s attention, whispered something to her as she handed him a beer, then ogled her ass when she walked away giggling to tend to her next customer. Alyssa felt a bit like giggling, too. The man was downright lickable.
Honey Doomey.
“What’d you say, hon?”
Crap! Had she said that aloud? “Uh, I said what about him?”
Trent followed her line of sight. “Mark? Yeah, he’s one of the straight ones. He also plows through every Tanya, Deb, and Harriett he finds at the conventions. Don’t waste your time, hon. You can do so much better.”
“Now you sound like my quote-unquote friend, Dillon.”
He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Why all the quotes?”
“Because we’ve been friends forever, but I started liking him as more than that and thought maybe he felt the same way. I dropped umpteen hints, but he never did anything about them, so now I give up and would like to forget all about him with a few hours of no-strings-no-judgment sex with someone I don’t know.”
Anita Anna Conda!
Whoa. Old-fashioneds plus lemon drops equaled a very loose tongue for one Alyssa Miller. Hopefully no one asked her for her bank account info, or she was liable to end up broke.
Without missing a beat, Trent gave her an understanding nod as if she hadn’t just committed a cardinal sin against the etiquette of polite small talk. “Okay, then you need a plan of attack.” Narrowing his eyes, he looked her up and down before flagging the bartender over. “Another two lemon drops, beautiful.” While they waited for the martinis, he turned Alyssa to face him and tugged down on the hem of her dress.
Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around herself and squeaked. “What are you doing?”
“We don’t have time to get you on an episode of What Not to Wear. I’m accentuating your breasts while bringing your hem down. You don’t want Pirate Mark to think he can plunder your buried treasure so easily. There. Now you look less hoochie and more sex kitten.”
Trent handed her the new cocktail, which she eagerly drank, grateful for the calming effect it had on her nerves. “Okay, now I introduce myself?”
He made a face. “Only if you want to strike out.” When she raised an expectant brow, he said, “Cross the room and when you move into his path, fake being jostled into him. He’ll steady you and check to see if you’re okay. Give him your best bedroom eyes and flash him that great smile, and he’ll be all yours.”
“Seriously?”
“Cross my heart,” he said. “Now freshen up your lipstick and go hook yourself a pirate.”
Taking the tube of red lipstick from her clutch, she did as Trent instructed and then gave him a hug. “Thank you, Trent. For the martinis and the advice.”
“My pleasure. Now go, go, go,” he said, shooing her with his hands.
Alyssa took a deep breath and walked toward Mark the model. Mark the pirate. Mark the man-whore. No, she didn’t want to think about that. It didn’t matter to her how many treasures he’d plundered in the past, or however Trent said it. In fact, his experience would probably ensure a memorable night with multiple orgasms. If there’s a God.