Page 19 of Rival Desires

“Played hide the salami? Had a rumble in the jungle? Partook in some horizontal tango?”

“Oh, for the love of God, just stop!” Nat begged, her cheeks flushing.

I grinned mischievously. “I’ve got a million of ‘em. Tangoed between the sheets? Waltzed in the wild?”

“Enough, or I’m confiscating your drink,” she warned, reaching for my glass.

I pulled it back. “Fine. Yes, we bumped into each other again. At the grocery store–”

“Please don’t tell me you did it by the bananas.”

“Nope.” I sighed dramatically. “In a dressing room next door.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Oh, we did,” I confirmed. “And then he drops thathe’sCory McCrae.”

“Holy...” Nat’s eyes bulged. “McCrae, as in...”

“Yep.” I downed another gulp. “The McCrae of Gracen & McCrae. The bastard.”

Nat’s eyes lit up as the puzzle pieces fell into place, a grin spreading across her face.

“So, you think this Cory guy recognized you from the get-go?” she asked, leaning forward in her seat.

I rolled my eyes. “Please, I don’t believe in coincidences like that. The first time, maybe it was just chance. But again? At a grocery store, of all places? Too fucking convenient if you ask me.”

Nat’s eyes narrowed as she considered this. “Well, if he made the moves both times, I can see why you’d think he was up to something.”

I shrugged, taking another sip of my drink. “It was more like a mutual seduction, to be honest.”

Nat laughed. “Mutual seduction? Really, Ry? I know you better than that. You don’t sit around waiting for things to happen.”

I raised an eyebrow, not about to apologize for being a woman who knows what she wants. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit it. I wanted to have sex with him. Both times. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t being manipulative with those stupid dimples and that smirk of his.”

Nat shook her head, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Damn, girl. You’ve got it bad.”

“Got what?” I glared at her. “Got the hots for Cory McCrae? Pfft.” I made a dismissive gesture. “He irritates me.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Nat smirked. “He gets under your skin.”

I rolled my eyes. “He annoys me.”

She shrugged. “Same difference.”

Shaking my head, I jabbed a finger in her direction. “Nope, there’s a world of difference. He’s a walking headache- aggravating, irritating, frustrating, infuriating.”

“You sound like you just swallowed a thesaurus.” She laughed. “I love how your vocabulary expands when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” I insisted. “I’m tipsy. Slightly buzzed. Vaguely intoxicated.”

“You’re doing it again,” she pointed out. “Thesaurus.”

“You’re a thesaurus,” I retorted, aware that my insult wasn’t much of an insult. But it provided a great distraction from my friend’s newfound obsession withfuckingCory McCrae.

I frowned. No, not fucking Cory McCrae. I didn’t want her to do that. No one should be fucking him. Even though he was really good at it. I mean, the man knew what he was doing. It was unfair, actually. Guys who would seduce a competitor to mess with her shouldn’t be that hot and sexy and good in bed. They should come with a warning sign or be downright ugly and stinky.

I sighed, thinking back to how amazing Cory smelled. That cologne he wore at the ball was just...perfect. And then running into him at the store and again at the restaurant – oh crap, I hadn’t spilled that part to Nat yet.

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