Page 9 of Sex Coach

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J ust over an hour later,clad in super soft pajamas and smelling of my custom blend of lavender and vanilla body lotion, I stood at the window, staring outside .

I'd been had .

Or conned .

Something.

Okay, so it wasn't like he ended up stiffing me with a bill for an expensive meal – or even a drink since he paid for my wine . But I hadn't gotten anything useful out of him .

Sure, I was no Gina Goddard, but I knew how to interview people .

I had dozens of interviews under my belt – close to a hundred by now, probably. But as I played that interview back through my mind, I knew there was nothing at all usable in the information I'd gotten from him. Or rather, the information I hadn't gotten from it .

Getting more aggravated by the second, I went back to my purse and pulled out my phone, tapping on icons until the digital recording app opened. I hit play and listened as it started to play .

"Shit!" Twenty minutes later, I threw the phone down on the couch, ready to rip my hair out .

There was nothing worth putting in an interview unless I planned to write a piece about myself . And even that would be about as boring as could possibly be .

There was nothing at all usable .

Burying my face in my hands, I muttered, "My aunt is going to kill me." A split second later a worst thought occurred to me. No, Gina is going to kill me. She had turned over a prime source, and instead of getting anything from him, I had wasted the entire meeting, letting him distract me .

"How could you be so stupid?" With a groan, I tried to figure out if there was any way I could sell this stuff, but there was nothing I could do except own up to the mistake .

Forcing myself to accept that, I moved over to the computer and clicked on the icon to open my email. With my eyes closed, I sat there for a good five minutes, trying to think through the best way to approach the email I had to write .

Aunt Blair wouldn't wash her hands of me, I knew that. But it would be awhile before she would trust me with a job like this again .

And I would have disappointed her too. She had trusted me to do this, and I hated disappointing people, especially those who had put their faith in me .

Finally, unable to figure out anything I could say except the honest truth – he had a sexy voice and he flustered me and I fucked up – I opened my eyes and focused on writing what I had to write .

Then I just sat there, staring .

I had an email .

Actually, there were several .

But the most recent one was from a J. King and the subject had my heart pounding .

F or your article

N ervous as hell,I clicked on it and started to read .

Then, once I was done, I sat there for a full minute, hardly able to believe what I'd read .

My heart was racing .

My head was spinning .

I didn't know what part of me was more excited .

The writer...or the man .

Who in the world would have guessed that just reading an email could be so erotic? Everything I needed was in that email...including his name, which I'd forgotten to ask .

He'd signed it simply .

Jake.

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