Screwed

“I’m sorry.” She holds up a hand while trying to get herself under control. One more hiccup and she’s there. Lowering her hand, she grins at me. “Do lines like that actually work for you?”


Ignoring her question, I attempt to regain the upper hand. “Where are you moving from?”

“Michigan. I just graduated from law school, and I have an internship at Walker, Price, and Pratt. I start on Monday.”

“I heard you were a lawyer.”

She shakes her head, and there’s a faraway look in her eyes, as if she’s thinking about something unpleasant. “I’m not a lawyer. Not yet. I’m a legal intern for the summer.”

I nod. Even a blind man could see this job opportunity is important to her. She’s moved across the country for it, and I’m guessing she has to prove herself this summer to be hired on full-time.

“Walker, Price, and Pratt . . . that’s downtown, right? Near Pershing Square?”

She nods. “I think so. At least that’s what Google Maps said.”

I nod. “It’s not hard to find. And there’s a great sandwich shop within walking distance. It’s called Louie’s Lunch Shack. Just avoid the tuna salad, and you’ll be golden.”

I’d made the mistake of ordering that once. Never again. I shudder just thinking about it. I spent the next twenty-four hours in the bathroom, and my good buddy Hudson had to play nursemaid, restoring me back to health.

“Thanks for the tip.”

“Anytime. That’s what I’m here for.” What am I here for? Why am I standing here talking to this beautiful woman who I know I can’t have?

She just stands there on the sidewalk in the bright sunlight, as if she’s waiting to see what I’ll do next. I’ve never felt quite so unsure of myself. If Hudson hadn’t just given me a verbal lashing, I would have her upstairs in my condo with her panties around her ankles by now.

“We should grab a drink later, when you’re done moving in,” I say. I’m hoping she’s ready to call it a day now. It’s almost the weekend, and it’s five o’clock somewhere. Maybe alcohol will smooth over this tension between us.

She chews on her lower lip, thinking it over. “I really can’t. I’m sorry.”

Taking a step closer, I lean in toward her. “Is this about something Roxy said?” Fucking Roxy.

Her gaze skitters away from mine, and lands on the moving truck where the men lifting boxes grunt and scurry off for the elevator. “It’s not that, it’s just I’m here to focus this summer. I’ve just come off a bad breakup, and I’m so not looking for anything.”

“What did she say?” My tone comes out more commanding than I intended.

“Roxy?” she asks.

I nod.

Emery chews on her lower lip again. “That you’re a dirty, dirty man-whore who’s had his fair share of fun. And then some.”

“True on all accounts.” No use in denying it. I don’t like liars, and so I make it a habit never to be one myself.

Emery gazes up at me. Damn. Those eyes. It’s like they see straight through me.

“If liking * is a crime, lock me up. I’m as guilty as they come. I like the taste of it, I like the smell of it, and I especially like the way it feels when—”

She holds up her hand, her cheeks turning bright pink. “Do not finish that statement, Mr. Oliver. I get the point.”

Shit. Have I just been rambling on about how much I love *? I need to get ahold of myself.

I glance up at her. Her pulse has quickened in her throat, and her face is flushed. She gives me a look that women normally only give when they want to drop to their knees and service me. Or is there something in her eye?

My dick leaps to life.

Her gaze drops to the front of my pants. “I have a big dick ahead of me,” she says, and her cheeks flame bright red. “I mean a big day. Day,” she repeats.

“Are you okay?” I ask as she shakes away that massive Freudian slip.

She swallows and gulps down a deep inhale of air. “I’m fine.”

“Listen.” The urge to reach out and take her hand, to physically connect us in some way, surges through me. But I press on. “I’m not looking for a hookup. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything. Honestly. We could go out—strictly as friends—and I could show you around. You’re new to the area. I could help. That’s all I meant.”

I remind myself: Friends only. I can do this. I can prove Hudson wrong.

She presses her lips together, and I’m assuming she’s about to shoot me down when she sighs again.





Chapter Four


Emery



Hayden comes trotting over almost the instant Roxy leaves.

Why do I suddenly feel all tingly? No. That isn’t part of the plan. He does not get to strut over here and make me go all lusty for his dirty, dirty man rod. Especially after what Roxy just told me. Has my vagina no shame? There are probably cooties crawling up and down that overused flagpole.

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