Page 50 of Bad Love

It's for thebest.

"You want to kiss him again,” Renapredicts.

"I want to strangle him." For the way he made me feel and for the look on his face when he walked out. As if I was the one who’d done somethingwrong.

"Kinky. When are you going to see himagain?”

“Monday,” I admit. I’ve decided on a new product to advertise in the hopes of winning his crazy bet. Knowing the stakes on his side had me going over my own work, double-checkingeverything.

It’s one more thing I curse himfor.

“I bet that man would be a helluva vacation,” Rena says. “And it looks like you could useone."

I reach into my bag, pull out my notebook, and slide out the “My Adventures” sheet. “That’s what this isfor.”

Rena takes it, scans down the list, and laughs when she sees the one about not fantasizing about hot guys. “You sure about that?” sheteases.

I shut my eyes. “Yes.”

“So, why’re you looking so frustrated?” Rena asks as she passes back the list and I tuck itaway.

“Because even though we have chemistry, I’ve never had a problem steering clear of physical encounters. I’ve been attracted to men before. Hello, it’s New York. There’s a hot guy on every corner and two on most. I don’t know why it’s so hardthis time. Why all I can think about is how it would feel to be with him.” My throatdries.

She turns my question over. "That’s easy. Because you’re used to being able to avoid the object of that chemistry. You don’t have to work with random hot guys. But you can’t avoid Hunter. You’re going to see him for another two and a half months. The pressure’s bound to buildup.”

I groan. “So, what do Ido?”

Her face is sympathetic. “Find a release valve.” She nods to my list. “And I don’t think origami will cutit.”

* * *

Iwalkinto the meeting room at Closer, my phone and notebook in one hand and my secret weapon in the other. "Morning."

Hunter looks up from his phone. He's looking handsome as always, today in a navy V-neck sweater over jeans, one ankle crossed over his knee, but his chair’s pushed back from the table. As if he’s ready to spring into action. "You'relate."

I check my phone. Oneminute.

"I have something for you." I hold out the vibe, holding mybreath.

He takes the thing in, the curves, the shape, like the petals of a flower. "It's not acock."

"No. The vibrators with the greatest growing market share are for external stimulation. So, I chose this one from the company’s line ofproducts.

“It's not meant to replace a partner,” I go on quickly, unsure why my heart is thudding in my chest, “though of course it could be used solo forstimulation.”

He presses the first button on the end. Nothinghappens.

"There's a safety switch,” I say. “So you don't turn it onaccidentally."

"As if that wouldhappen."

I flick the switch, and he goes back to the device, cycling through the fivemodes.

“You’re going to save my grandmother’s company with a flower.” Hunter’s voice isflat.

My spine stiffens as I turn back to him, the criticism in his eyes. “This is a solid alternative to the Rocket. And, in my opinion, the best option wehave.”

“Why?” Hunter grills me as if we're on opposite sides of a court case and not a table. I respond to each question inturn.

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