Page 3 of How Jenna Became My Dilemma

But again, my mind can fill in the blanks well enough.

The woman’s extremities lock around his body. “Thish ish more like it.”

A wrestle takes place, and I can’t tell if the man is initiating some kind of weird make-out position or trying to get off her.

“Do you two mind?” I say over them.

His head flips to me. I instantly recognize the azure eyes and swaggering smile that belong to Hollywood’s most infamous player.

Cody Banner.

I’m actually not even surprised that he’s on top of a woman in the bathroom. His reputation has preceded him.

“Come in. Join us,” he says.

My brows jump to my hairline. “Excuse me?”

“There’s room for three.” Impish. That’s how I’d describe his smile.

“I definitely won’t be joining you two,” I scoff. “And quite frankly, I’m offended that you’d imply I’m interested in—”

“Whoa, whoa! What are you talking about?” He attempts to crawl off the woman, but her legs link around his neck, putting him in a headlock. She must own a Thigh Master and use it regularly, because she’s got an iron-clad hold on him. I half expect Cody to turn blue from lack of oxygen. Instead, he grabs her thighs and yanks, causing her to laugh and squirm. With her guard down, he’s able to break free and stand. Instead of fixing his messy dark hair, he shakes his head at me. “I wasn’t suggesting you join us like you think I was suggesting it. I was just making a joke about how small the bathroom is.”

My hard gaze narrows on him. “Right.”

“Look”—he steps over the woman whose legs have become scissors, slicing through the air in an attempt to trip him—“this isn’t what you think. She had a little too much to drink, and I’m just trying to help her.”

“Do you know her age, weight, how much, and how fast she drank tonight versus how much she ate?”

He laughs, and his blue eyes twinkle just like the little star in the nursery rhyme. “I have no clue.”

I look the woman over. “She’s probably about a hundred and ten pounds, and depending on how many drinks she’s had per hour and the state she’s in right now”—I do some quick math in my head—“I would say her blood-alcohol level is between .10 and .12 percent.”

“Did you just figure that out in your head?”

“Yeah.”

His stare stays on me as a dawn of recognition hits. “Aren’t you that underwear model?”

“Ugh!” My eye roll makes a complete rotation. “Of course you’d only remember the underwear ads.”

“Do you prefer I not remember them?”

The woman on the floor flops to her stomach with a harrumph. For a moment, it looks like she might fall asleep, but then her tongue shoots out, gliding back and forth over the tile.

My face twists in disgust. “I hope you already got your make-out in.”

Cody’s expression is stoic as he watches. “I wasn’t planning on adding her to my rotation.”

“Not an open spot?”

That same teasing smile appears. “Not for her. But if you want in, I’m sure I can make room.”

“How generous of you.”

“I like to think of myself as a pretty generous guy.”

Our stares are broken up by vomiting hurls.

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