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I was so glad I hadn’t told her about the girlfriend situation that sent me sprinting. Liam Macklen had a lot of explaining to do.
***
“You should have seen her, Emma. I am a monster! She took one look at me and knew I’d just spent the night in his bed.” I clawed at my face. “Oh God, I just realized that it was probably her bed too.”
Groaning, I rolled over, eyeing his clothes where I’d thrown them across the end of my bed. The gray sweatshirt still smelled of him. Or maybe that was my hair. I took a strand by my ear and pulled it in front of my nose for an appraising sniff. Yep, it was the hair. God help me. Because I’d taken a shower in the man’s apartment.
A taken man.
A taken client.
Utterly and completely off-limits.
And we’d slept like spoons last night, his perfectly sinful body wrapped around mine.
A warm flush swept up my body. Waking up, feeling him against me, it’d been, it’d been…
Oh Lord.
It’d been awful because he was a taken man.
And I was a monster.
I’d ridden him like Seabiscuit, with only a few layers of cotton keeping me from being a proper homewrecker. I was spiraling. “I’m a monster, Emma,” I tell the phone, groaning.
Emma Hansen, my best friend and partner in crime since…well, forever, laughed into the phone. “Well, not a monster per se. But the whole, hey, I just slept beside your smoking hot boyfriend is probably a bit of a relationship killer. But please, let’s go back to the part where you dry humped him while wearing his clothes. That part was good.”
I sighed, pressing my face farther into the pile of blankets I’d dragged over my head. That settled it. If Emma thought I was a doomed case, then I was definitely a doomed case.
“How am I supposed to face him again? We have so much to do. Not to mention we had dinner plans tonight.”
“What do you mean? You said you only marginally liked this man. The fact that he’s as hot as Henry Cavil is not your fault. Now that you know he’s taken and going to be a huge tease, we can take considerations. Improvements, even.”
“Like what?” I sniffed, feeling hopeful.
“For one, layers. At least three. I figure it’ll take that many to remember that you should definitely not be allowing the clothing removal in the first place. And no more dinners. There’s nothing like a full stomach and perfect lighting to remind you exactly how single you’ve been since you moved.”
“Oh my God. Stop! I’m moving. That’s the end of it. Book me a ticket to Alaska. Or Bora Bora.”
“Ash, you are not moving. And you know those are two very different living experiences, right?” Her gentle tease only made me burrow farther into the blankets.
Emma hummed down the phone connection. I could picture her, all five foot two inches of fierce California blonde, twirling a strand of hair as she tried to find something inspirational to say.
I waited.
She had never steered me wrong. Not all those years she’d been the neighborhood terror. Not even when she’d told me to kiss Grady O’Leary after recess in sixth grade.
If Cici was my inspiration, Emma was my guide.
“Okay, okay, I’ll be honest. You say this guy is all smooth and charming and playboy-like, but it kind of sounds like he just might like you. You know, like in kindergarten when the boys all torment the girls they like best?”
I sit up, throwing back the blankets. “Emma. You’re still missing the point about the statuesque brunette with the keys to his apartment…”
Emma tutted. “I’m just saying, don’t pack for Canada yet.”
I sighed. She had a point. “At least he agreed to our contract and plan for him. That’s progress, right?”
“Was that before or after you showered at his beautiful penthouse apartment?”
