Page 36 of Dreamboat

“Since when is hot not your type?” she questions, her blue eyes twinkling as she teases me. “Something is going on that you’re not telling me.”

Since I’ve confided in her for years, I’m not surprised that she can sense I’m holding back. The only reason I’m doing that is that I’m unsure how to tell my best friend that I fucked my brother’s boss over and over again as we sailed around the Caribbean.

Her hands land on the counter with a sharp thud. “Okay, let’s play three questions.”

Since we’ve never been able to come up with twenty solid questions for one another, we amended that to a three question game.

“Okay,” I agree before I take a sip of my now lukewarm coffee.

She does the same with the cup in front of her. “Did you meet a man?”

“Several,” I answer.

“Did you meet an attractive man other than the magician and the loincloth guy?” she presses.

“Yes,” I answer succinctly.

She leans forward to look directly into my eyes. “Did that guy fuck you?”

The smile that slides over my lips gives the answer away before I do. “So many times I lost track of the number.”

That sends her back a full step. “So it was good?”

“That’s four questions,” I point out.

“Answer!”

I do because I know Kita and she won’t stop until I answer. “It was the best sex of my life.”

“Delia.” Her voice softens. “You’ve needed this. I’m happy for you. I’m so freaking happy that you went on that cruise.”

“Me too.” I nod. “Seeing him there was completely unexpected and then I hurt my toe and he carried me almost the entire length of the ship to the doctor.”

“Wait. What?” She laughs. “You got hurt? Are you all right? He carried you?”

“Yes. Yes, and yes.”

She smiles brightly. “Why was seeing him on the cruise unexpected? What does that mean? Tell me it’s someone famous.”

Many women in this city would consider Donovan Hunt famous since he has so many followers on social media, but from a big picture point of view, he’s not a household name by any means.

I frame all of that in a way that I hope satisfies her curiosity enough that we can move onto another topic. “He’s not famous in the traditional sense although a lot of people in this city know him.”

“In this city?” She points at the floor. “Are you saying he lives here, Delia? Your cruise fuck is here in Manhattan?”

“Yes,” I say meekly.

“Who is it?” The question tumbles out of her wrapped in a giggle. “Do I know him?”

She probably does since her sister-in-law Tilly works for him.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I say even though I’m not a proponent for holding onto secrets. “It’s complicated.”

“So, I do know him?” She taps her hand on top of the counter. “Spit it out, Delia. Who the fuck did you fuck?”

“Donovan Hunt.”

Her hands jump to her mouth. “What?”

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