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Sarah. He watched her from across the room, trying to examine his feelings about her. He didn’t really have any, but why?

Because of Arabella, of course.

But he and Arabella were never going to work and there was no reason for him to hang around mooning after her forever. He had other options if he chose to pursue them. Sometimes he forgot that. She tended to make him forget other women even existed. Every date he’d been on since he and Dex had been together had ended at the front door, because he just couldn’t bring himself to sleep with a woman while he was thinking of Arabella. It would be disrespectful.

Maybe it was time to let go of his obsession with her, and find someone who wanted the same things he did.

Arabella chose that moment to appear at his elbow.

Typical.

“Sarah, huh? Nice girl. Hot too. You could do worse.” The quiet challenge in her voice set his teeth on edge, so he avoided turning to look at her. “You going to bang her?”

“Maybe.” The conversation felt weirdly strained, even though they’d talked to each other like this all the time, back in the day. It had been a long time since they’d shared those sorts of confidences.

“She doesn’t seem the one-night stand type.”

“I’ve played with her at the club a few times. She likes being a good girl.” He tried to stop himself from saying it, but the words had come out anyway. It sounded innocuous enough, considering how they used to talk to each other, but he was all too aware that he’d said it hoping to make Arabella jealous. He was careful not to look for a reaction because then she’d know he cared.

Then again, maybe there was no point in playing it cool with a woman who knew damned well he was obsessed with her.

“So what then?” she asked, her tone mocking. “Are you going to offer her a collar?”

He wasn’t sure what to say. The truth was it was unlikely Sarah would even accept a collar from him if he was interested. He wasn’t the kind of guy women got serious about. Hell, she was here with Tarka tonight. Grant had been the slightly less interesting, American version of Tak for years now. He wasn’t quite as charming as the Australian either, he didn’t have the accent, he wasn’t a pilot, and he was fucking moody.

“Who knows?” he said, opting for a bit of bravado. “She gave me her number so maybe that scenario isn’t as unlikely as you think. She’s not the type who flirts just to get laid, so . . .” He shrugged. “Did you come over here to call dibs on her?”

He hadn’t seen the two of them together, but with Arabella one never knew.

“I think she might actually be straight.”

“Straight? I didn’t realize there was such a thing as a completely straight kinkster.”

“I know, right?”

“Obviously you haven’t tried very hard.”

She shrugged and grinned at him, biting the tip of her tongue and looking like a complete imp.

“I haven’t tried it at all.”

“Slacker.”

“What can I say? There’s no more room in my garage for all the toaster ovens I’ve earned converting straight girls over the years. If I convert anyone else I’ll have to rent a storage unit. Damned inconvenient.”

“It’s hard being Arabella Dexter.”

“You have no idea,” she joked, rolling her eyes theatrically.

He barked a laugh for the first time that day, feeling like maybe his life wasn’t over. “Maybe you can get the prize changed to fondue sets or microwaves.”

“For some reason I don’t think fondue sets are going to be any easier to sell off than toaster ovens. Microwaves, though . . . I could do something with microwaves.”

“You could retire.”

“Maybe, but I’d have to step up the number of conversions I do in a month.”

“You can do it. I believe in you.”

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