Page 12 of Degrees of Control

“Does James get his looks from his dad?” Charlie asked.

Sophia flashed her a grateful smile. “Not exactly. He’s okay, if you like them big and bald, but James’ mom was a runner-up in the Miss Universe pageant. She’s the gorgeous one.”

“Oh my god, I remember you telling me that,” Jordan exclaimed, whipping out her phone. “What year did she almost win? Wait, holy fuck, is James the cousin who dated that underwear model?”

As they dissolved into a discussion of James’ beautiful family and former partners, Charlie wrestled with her disappointment. Her hope of rekindling her fling with James at Sophia’s wedding was feeling more idiotic by the second. James Hunter was the son of a beauty queen and a tobacco king. He nailed Victoria’s Secret models. Charlotte Bell was the daughter of a bricklayer and a midwife. Victoria’s Secret didn’t even make bras in her size. There were twists on the classic love story and then there were the sad delusions of yoga teachers who needed to get a grip. It was time to put what happened on Saturday night to bed and move on.

Clearing her throat, Charlie raised her cup of green tea to her friends. “Thank you, ladies, first for helping me articulate my desires and then helping me get off with a bossy, cowboy type. May he be the first of many.”

She spoke with a bravado she didn’t feel, but apparently it was authentic enough to get Sophia and Jordan to tap their teacups against hers.

Damn,she thought, taking a too-big swallow of tea.Maybe I’m a better actor than I thought?

Chapter 4

God, James wished he could remember her name.

The last time he’d left a party with a girl and nothing happened, it was because the chick was rushed to the hospital, but Blue-Eyes hadn’t downed a bottle of Cointreau in thirty minutes and needed an emergency stomach pump, she’d just rejected him out of hand. Left him gaping in Sophia’s driveway like an idiot.

Despite his cousin’s invitation, James hadn’t planned on going to Sophia’s party. No matter how casual the setting, dealing with his family was always a nightmare, and he had better offers elsewhere. He’d packed his bag for Vegas, only to be told Ray’s bachelor party was cancelled—something about a tennis instructor and finding weird receipts in his fiancée’s underwear drawer—James wasn’t in on the full story, he only knew that after a long shitty week he felt like blowing off steam. Sophia’s house wasn’t Sin City but it beat sitting at home.

The party had actually been pretty decent. He’d caught up with a few guys from work, hung out with Sophia’s surprisingly normal fiancé and was thinking about heading on to the dance floor to pursue one of the tall model-types floating around when suddenlyshewas blinking up at him. Goddamn, he wished he could remember her fucking name. When Sophia introduced her, the only thing his brain absorbed was the sight of her big, luscious mouth. How was a man supposed to care about a name when a girl had lips like they were made for sucking? And that wasn’t all Blue-Eyes had that was made for sucking. He didn’t know where a girl with such a tiny waist stole those pin-up girl tits from, but it didn’t matter. The thought of rubbing them through her silky dress had filled his head until he couldn’t process anything else. He wanted that heart-shaped ass underneath him, he wanted it real bad.

Unfortunately, after he and the girl with said heart-shaped ass hit the dance floor, everything got real vague, real fast. He hadn’t exactly been pacing himself and his last whiskey, the one he intended to give to her, tipped him right over the edge. He remembered the way she’d gone from hesitant to damn near rubbing herself off on his leg on the dance floor, recalled touching her in Sophia’s bathroom, the tops of her thighs so wet they were slippery, but he had no idea what had made those silver heels click away from him.

When he woke up on Sunday afternoon his first thought was of her. He’d had no idea where the fuck he was, but he could remember her mouth, her breathy cries, her hot little pussy. After she’d bailed, he’d taken a redhead into that bathroom and fucked her over the sink, but that had been as forgettable as keg beer. Getting off, pure and simple, with no games beyond trying to unravel a condom while half-cut. But despite the fact that he’d gotten laid, Blue-Eyes lingered on his tongue like fifty-year-old whiskey. He thought about her in the shower, while he was eating the disgusting cereal Sophia dumped in front of him. He couldn’t get her out of his head. The working week commenced and still Blue-Eyes wouldn’t quit. She spread her legs for him in meetings, urged him to fuck her at the gym, and pleaded with him whenever he was jerking off. He was walking around all lightheaded and semi-hard, his mind full of all the games he could play with her hot little body.

James wasn’t an idiot, he knew not having her was making him want it more, but he couldn’t tell that to his aching balls. Blue-Eyes had kick-started urges he’d put aside for too long. Now they were in full flight, howling for the girl he couldn’t name. Finally, when he couldn’t take it anymore, James bit the bullet and called Sophia on his lunch break.

No matter what time of the day he spoke to his cousin, he always pictured her in her gleaming office, passing down orders from on high. She might look like Malibu Barbie but Sophia was a bloodthirsty Hunter, through and through. James was amazed she’d even let him near her front door that night, let alone her friend.

“What can I do for you, James?” Sophia asked, her tone just as snotty as ever. “Do you need financial advice or something?”

Like his brother, Will, Sophia had gone to Harvard Business School and much like Will, she never fucking let him forget it. “I’m calling about the friend you introduced me to the other night…” James let his voice trail off, hoping she’d fill in the blanks without prompting.

“You mean my fiancé, Parker?”

Of course she wasn’t going to make this easy. “I mean the Australian girl with the blue eyes. What’s her deal?”

There was a long, aggravated pause.

“Charlie’sdeal is that she was going to go home with you, until some Animal House douchebags talked about her like she was a prostitute, and she left.”

James bit back a groan as fresh memories trickled into his consciousness, something about football jerseys and having someplace to be…Oh fuck, that Paul guy. What the hell did he say to her? And more importantly, what did I say to her?

“Uh, hello?”

James grimaced. “Look, I’m not sure what went down, but—wait, Charlie? Ain’t that a man’s name?”

“It’s an abbreviation of Charlotte. Charlotte Bell. Why do you even care?”

Charlotte. That was more like it. Miss Blue-Eyes was a Charlotte if ever he saw one. Pretty and sweet. The kind of girl that should have a parasol and hair ribbons. “I wanna ask her out. You mind passing her number along?”

His cousin cackled like a Bond villain. “Not a snowflake’s chance in hell, James.”

James swore under his breath. The Hunters were one fucked-up family; stubborn, too fond of liquor and hosting a whole mess of emotional issues, but goddamn, Sophia was supposed to be one of the tolerable ones. “Don’t be like that, Hopper, play nice.”

Sophia’s laugher halted at once. “Don’t call me that.”

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