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“Maybe you just need a little inspiration,” Carly said, but the suggestion only prompted Sloane to bark out a laugh.
“Please. Do have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve had a littleinspiration?” She hooked air quotes around the word, counting backward in her head to recheck her math.
Wait, was it January again? Already? Jeez, no wonder her muse was pissed.
“I’m sorry,” Carly said. “Maybe that wasn’t a good suggestion.”
“Actually, it’s a great suggestion.” Sloane released her spoon with a plunk, and all the frustration swishing around in her chest burst forth. “Believe me, nothing would make me happier than to be earth-movinglyinspiredright now. As a matter of fact, considering the lack of inspiration going on in my life, I think I’m due for a downright out-of-body experience. Not that I’ve ever reached the summit of Mount O during the actual act. Nope, not me. If I’m gonna get there, I’ve gotta fly solo.”
What a joke. She had to be the only romance writer on the planet who’d never achieved orgasm with someone else in the room. No wonder she had an epic case of writer’s block.
“Sweetie.” Carly’s eyes widened, but Sloane had hit her limit. She lifted a hand, stopping her friend mid-sentence.
“No, really. Karmically speaking, is it too much to ask for the powers-that-be to send some mind-blowing orgasms my way? I’m tired of doing all the work. Plus, it’s all in the name of research. I mean, show a girl a little joy, for heaven’s sake!” Sloane knew she was ranting, but blowing off the steam she’d slowly built up felt divine. “Just once, I’d like to give new meaning to the phraselife imitates art. After all the fumbling lovers I’ve put up with who couldn’t find my G-spot with a map and compass, I deserve some really hot, toe-curling, religious-experience sex!”
“Um, Sloane?”
But the sinfully good release prompted her to continue without pause. “I mean it,cucciola. In spite of what I do for a living, I’m starting to think men who can dish up Richter scale orgasms are just a cruel myth.”
Finally stopping for a breath, Sloane registered the odd look on Carly’s face with apprehension. “What? Oh, God, don’t tell me they reallyarea myth?”
The deep rumble of a throat being cleared cut Sloane’s breath short in her lungs.
“Excuse me, chef. I don’t mean to interrupt a…delicate conversation, but I’ve got an emergency I need to discuss with you.”
The sound of the very smooth, very male voice over her shoulder froze Sloane into place and ignited every one of her nerve endings to a slow sizzle. Stunned, she whirled in her seat, only to find herself face-to-crotch with a pair of flawlessly tailored charcoal dress slacks. The wearer jerked backward, looking both startled and more than a little put out at her sudden movement.
Carly cleared her throat too late to hide the laugh beneath the gesture. “Sloane, you remember my restaurant manager, Gavin Carmichael, don’t you?”
Knowing she should be utterly mortified and praying for a fault line in the earth to swallow her whole, Sloane threw on a cocky smile instead. Letting her gaze float slowly upward, she looked Gavin right in his stunning, melted-chocolate eyes and said the only thing she could think of.
“Nice pants.”
3
Athousand thoughts raced through Gavin’s mind, not the least of which was a) he felt like someone had shoved a furnace under his skin and b) as pretty as she was, Sloane must be doing one hell of an indecent research project. He raked a gaze over the glossy black hair she’d tossed out of her eyes, feeling every inch of her watercolor-blue stare as she returned the favor of an assessing up-and-down.
Damn, she really was pretty.
“It’s nice to see you again.” Oh, hell. If that stiff-as-a-board reply was the best he could do, he needed to get out more. After all, they’d met before, and he’d seen her a handful of times around the restaurant. Plus, this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo. He could hold his own around beautiful women—hell, Caroline had been a former Miss Santa Barbara, with pretty to spare.
Right. Just look where that had gotten him.
Sloane slipped him a catlike smile, murmuring a breathy “likewise” in his direction before angling herself back toward the table, offering her long, cross-legged profile so as not to turn her back on him completely. She didn’t look the least bit embarrassed that he’d overheard her highly personal discussion. It also didn’t seem to fluster her that she’d swung her taller-than-average frame around so fast, he hadn’t had time to calculate where her baby blues would land until it was too late to reposition himself.
Carly furrowed her brow. “Is there a problem with tonight’s staff?”
“I’m sorry?” Despite his efforts, all Gavin could come up with was a pair of heart-shaped lips uttering the wordsreally hot, toe-curling, religious-experience sex. The image conjured by Sloane’s words and the fresh memory of her quick turnaround flashed seductively through his head, and the furnace under his skin cranked into overdrive.
“You mentioned an emergency,” Carly reminded him. “Is everything okay?”
Reality yanked at Gavin with a vicious twist, and he jammed both hands in his pockets, moving his trousers from Sloane’s natural line of vision even though she’d turned her attention back to her soup.
Was he out of his mind? How had he forgotten about Bree, even for a minute? His mother had trusted him to take care of her, and here he was, overcome with dirty thoughts for a woman with an even dirtier mouth.
Nice.
“Right. Actually, no it’s not.” Gavin paused, trying to think of how to explain things in as little detail as possible. Mixing work with his personal life wasn’t something he made a habit of, not that anything private ever ranked too high on his list of things to share. “My thirteen-year-old sister is on her way here from school. The person who usually looks after her had an emergency, and…well, do you know anyone who’d be willing to keep an eye on her for me, at least while I’m on shift tonight?”
