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“I’ve done it plenty of times, Jewel.”
“With who?” she’d demanded.
He spared a glance her way and his grin dripped wickedness. “Shayla Harding.”
“What?!” She’d ripped the book from his hand and glared. “You are such a liar!”
Shayla Harding was a popular wine-country artist with long brown hair and—reportedly—surgically enhanced breasts.
Vin had given Jewel a smug look. He’d known from the age of seven that he was a handsome devil, and didn’t hide that he was perfectly aware of the fact.
“Shayla taught me everything I know. And, trust me, I know a lot.”
He’d winked.
She’d gaped.
With a chuckle, Vin had added, “A very hot divorcée. No need to say more.”
“Except that she’s, like, twenty-five. Or thirty.”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Vin! That’s way too old for you!”
He’d sighed. “Yeah. That’s why she called it off.”
“Oh, my God.” Jewel had stared again, for endless seconds. Had then snickered. “You’re bullshitting me. Shayla would never—”
“Ah, but she did.” He’d crooked a brow at Jewel and asked, “How many positions have you and Rogen tried? Two?”
“None of your business.” She’d scowled. Then: “He really hasn’t told you?”
“He’s not one for sharing juicy details.”
“But we all know that you are. So exactly how did you and Mrs. Robinson hook up?”
“Ha-ha.” He’d sat up and moved in close, pinning Jewel with a burning look. “Isn’t the question you’re really dying to ask me more along the lines of exactly how many different positions are there?”
Excitement had shot through her, headed straight to her clit. “I don’t need to know that.”
His gaze had dropped to her slightly parted, glossy lips. Then his emerald eyes had met hers again. They’d blazed. “Sure you do.”
She’d swatted playfully at him to break the sudden sexual tension. “Perv.”
“Give me my book.”
“Tell me what to e-mail Bay and you can have it back.”
He’d given her his bad-boy smirk. “You don’t get to make ultimatums.”
“Why not?” she’d challenged.
“Because I’m bigger than you. Stronger than you. Older than you now, too. And I happen to know that you’re ticklish.” He’d reached for her.
“Vin!” she’d squealed. “Don’t you dare!”
They’d wrestled a little, laughing heartily. And then Vin had grabbed her around the waist and hauled her over his body and onto her back on the other side of him, her legs draped across his thighs as he lay on his hip facing her, leaning over her.
