Page 143 of Filthy Lovin Heroes

I thought that was where fate said...oh really? I give you this great guy and you second guess me? You don’t like what I lined up for you? Well, let’s try this out instead.

But let me back up a minute.

I have kicked myself in the ass for three weeks and still don’t understand why I said no. I mean, it was hard to see him walk out of my loft, even harder when he tossed me a heated glance before respecting my wishes and leaving.

So why didn’t I run after him?

Pretty simple. I was an idiot.

One-night stands don’t work that way. But that doesn’t change the fact I dreamed about those dark eyes every night. When I couldn’t take the heat of not seeing him again, I returned to the nightclub in the hopes of finding him, but he wasn’t there.

Like I said, luck threw my number out with the Sunday trash, and another reason why I was now job hunting with the help of my friend. You see, the Monday after my fling, my boss’s arm candy of a wife tried to pin credit card theft on me because she overspent and needed a scapegoat so her silver fox daddy didn’t pull the plug on her. So, I lost my job and was out a few hundred dollars for a lawyer.

Two days later disaster struck again. I dropped my phone while picking up my dry cleaning for an interview and if that wasn’t bad enough, my purse was stolen.

I hoped like hell that Murphy's law stuck to its own rules and only handed me trouble in threes.

What really burned was I liked my last job, even if it was a lot of mundane, meaningless office work like fetching coffee and making copies. It paid the bills and most of my college tuition. My parents helped with the rest—a fact I’d like to change if only for simply trying to support myself now that I was forced to find another job.

I sighed and rolled over to stare at the clock on the nightstand, phone pressed to my ear.

“Well? What do you think? Can you be there?” cooed my friend.

With my mind running on zero caffeine, my mouth opened but nothing came out the first couple of tries.

“Wha...” I managed.

“Cherry, hello!”

“You’re crazy,” I managed, my dry tongue weighing a ton. “It’s not even day break. Do you even sleep, woman? What time is it? The birds are not even squawking.”

“It’s 4:28 and you’ll have to excuse me if I took our deal seriously.”

Deal? The last few days stumbled back into my sleep-deprived mind.

“Right.”

“I find you a job that pays the bills AND school and you gift me the absolute stunning collectable Tiffany lamp with the orange and yellow colored dragonfly stained glass?—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what it looks like,” I cut my friend off with a warm laugh. “You describe it like you would a boyfriend. Next you’ll be telling me how it lights you up.”

“I’m just sayin’.”

I heard the teasing in Joy’s words, and it helped dispel the sleepy cobwebs tangling up my limbs.

I kicked the covers aside and slid from bed, heading to the bathroom.

Joy loved the lamp ever since I picked it up at a yard sale. Yeah, I knew what I was buying, given my mother liked the finer things in life and schooled me on the topic every chance she had. The lamp was worth thousands of dollars and I picked it up for less than a latte.

I knew what I was doing when I made the deal with Joy and I would happily hand it over if she managed to help me land the job of a lifetime. That was how much being independent from my father and mother meant to me. Not that they were bad people, but with my father as a prominent lawyer in Los Angeles, I needed to prove I was not a skirt tail rider. If I wanted to be a lawyer as well, I needed to do it all on my own. No daddy and mommy bailouts. I carried my father’s name and that opened doors, sure. Nothing I could do about that, but everything else I wanted I needed to earn on my own merits. Then and only then could I stand elbow to elbow with my old man and have earned his respect.

My mom called me old-fashioned for the way I looked at the world. I just called it practical.

With Joy at my back, reporter journalist extraordinaire, she had her hand and ears open to everything. Nothing slipped by her, and from the chipper tone in her voice I heard, she had something good for me.

“Hit me with the deets again, babe. Whatcha got?”

“I found you a position at a prestigious law firm.”

---