Page 45 of Maverick Mogul

Or maybe that’s just how I’m choosing to imagine it.

Either way, I’ve got sex on the brain, which is probably how I let it slip to my aunts about our big illicit kiss. That, or the

two glasses of sauvignon blanc I drink over dinner at their place. Full of big ferns and hanging vine plants, it feels like a tropical oasis in the middle of Brooklyn, so it’s no wonder I always wind up relaxing and getting loose-lipped when I stop by for Jen’s epiccacio e pepe.

“I knew it,” Skye crows, smirking at me. “I knew from his vibe in the store the other day this was way more than just a fake-date arrangement.”

“But it’s not!” I insist. “I don’t know what it means. We’re both acting like it didn’t happen.”

“But there’s chemistry,” Skye confirms.

Enough to cause a serious detonation. “Yes.” I groan. “But Charlie must have that with everyone he meets, right? You met him. He’s a charmer.”

“The spa day was certainly a smooth move,” Skye agrees, spinning pasta around her fork. “But that seemed considerate. Not smarmy.”

“It was! So, you see my problem!” I gesture with my wine glass. “Now I’m hopelessly attracted to a sexy, thoughtful man who I cannot have. And who I’m now forced to do an overnight trip with.”

Jen’s eyes widen. “Wait, you skipped a step. What’s this about a sleepover?”

“Not a sleepover, the next wedding,” I fill them in. “It’s out of town, with events over both days. So, we have to stay there. Together. Like a couple.”

Skye claps her hands together. “I love this. What do you want to bet you’ll arrive and there’ll be only one bed?”

I gulp, imagining spending the night in close quarters with Charlie.Our bodies pressed together. His shirt oh so conveniently sliding to the floor.I whimper. “My self-control only lasts so long. I need strategies to stop me from jumping him. Please?”

“Or,” Skye says, “You could just go for it. Lean in!”

“Now, now,” Jen says, waggling a finger at Skye. “This is a business arrangement.”

“Exactly. And since when do you root for the guys I like?” I ask. “You never even pretended to like Miles.”

She reaches over to pat my hand. “Thevibes, babe. Miles had a bad energy from the start—he was only interested in himself. And because you’re such a supportive person, he took advantage.”

I stare down into my wine glass. Is that true? Did Miles say enough sweet things in the beginning that I slowly became the unpaid personal assistant of our shared lives?

Yikes.

“What’s the worst date you’ve been on in the past year?” Jen asks.

“All of them?” I make a face as my mind becomes a photo album of disappointments and creeps. “Probably the guy who spent part of happy hour showing me the Instagram photos of a model that he slept with?”

“Perfect,” Jen says, chipper. “Can you pretend Charlie is that guy?”

I pinch my eyes shut for a moment, trying. The image that appears is the guy—patchy facial hair, his ridiculous beanie though it was sixty-five degrees—but on Charlie’s gorgeous, gym-honed body. I get the giggles, unable to stop picturing it. “God, it’s horrifying.Why, Jen?”

“It’s working, right?” She looks pleased with herself, refilling her wine glass. “Any time you feel tempted, picture the bad date guy.”

Well, it might make me laugh enough to bust up the tension and stop me jumping him. “I can try.”

“Nice.” Skye toasts “There’s also the time-honored tradition of wearing terrible, baggy laundry day underwear. That’ll give you pause before tearing your clothes off.”

“Another good point,” I applaud. “Granny pants plus gross visualization, that will see me through. I hope. Here’s tonotthrowing myself at Charlie Fox for the next forty-eight hours!”

* * *

I showup at Mavericks with my weekender bag packed and my plan in place, ready to roll.

Or rather, ready tonotroll in the hay.

---