Книга - In Her Best Friend’s Bed

In Her Best Friend's Bed
J. Margot Critch


She wants him so much!Abby Shaw has had enough. She’s done with relationships (why are guys always so needy??) and wants to focus on getting her career off the ground. The fact that Trevor Jones—her new best bud and her boss—is seriously hot shouldn’t complicate things at all. But, that deliciously hard, tattooed body? A kiss that suggests hours—and nights—of wicked pleasure? Yep, Trevor is trouble…Abby and Trevor can’t resist turning “just friends” into “friends with sexy benefits.” Which means lots of hot sex, no messy emotions. It's the perfect arrangement—at first. But their searing sexual chemistry verges on becoming dangerously intimate…and Abby will do just about anything to keep herself from falling in love with Trevor Jones.







She wants him so much!

Abby Shaw has had enough. She’s done with relationships (why are guys always so needy?) and wants to focus on getting her career off the ground. The fact that Trevor Jones—her new best bud and her boss—is seriously hot shouldn’t complicate things at all. But that deliciously hard, tattooed body? A kiss that suggests hours—and nights—of wicked pleasure? Yep, Trevor is trouble...

Abby and Trevor can’t resist turning “just friends” into “friends with sexy benefits.” Which means lots of hot sex, no messy emotions. It’s the perfect arrangement—at first. But their searing sexual chemistry verges on becoming dangerously intimate...and Abby will do just about anything to keep herself from falling in love with Trevor Jones.


“Do you want to be my friend?”

Abby leaned in and pressed her lips to the warm skin below Trevor’s scruffy jaw. “With benefits?”

All Abby heard and felt was Trevor’s groan as it rumbled from his throat, and he wrapped his fingers around the back of her head and pulled her to him. Their lips met with passionate fury. This kiss was more...heated. Like water sizzling on a hot pan, the months of sexual tension that had bubbled between them came boiling over as they grabbed at each other frantically and kissed against the door of her fridge.

Trevor’s hands slid up and down her body, exploring her curves, pushing her clothing out of the way. His body was pressed against hers, sandwiching her between his hard, warm front and the cold of the fridge door.

“God, Abby,” he muttered on a harsh exhalation, with a shake of his head.

She could feel the hard length of him pressed against her belly. Thankfully, he kissed her once again then brought his lips to her ear and whispered, “Where’s your bedroom?”


Dear Reader (#ulink_b85beec0-274c-5388-b3b7-9c347669915c),

In my Blaze debut, In the Boss’s Bed, Abby and Trevor provide much needed advice and guidance to Maya and Jamie, their respective best friends. But in the course of writing the book, I kind of fell in love with Abby and Trevor. I knew almost immediately that I had to give them their own story.

Abby and Trevor became fast friends when Maya and Jamie moved to Las Vegas. Neither is looking for a romantic relationship, but when they decide to try a friends with benefits arrangement, they think that they can maintain emotional distance while enjoying some wild nights together. But they soon find themselves way over their heads when their feelings enter the picture.

Friends-to-lovers is one of my favorite tropes, because why wouldn’t somebody fall in love with their best friend? Who else knows your good and bad sides? Who knows what you like and what you don’t? Who do you go to when you’re having a bad day? But as we learn with Abby and Trevor, things aren’t always that easy.

I hope you enjoy reading In Her Best Friend’s Bed. If you ever want to chat, send me an email: jmargotcritch@gmail.com, or hit me up on Twitter: @juanitamcritch (https://twitter.com/juanitamcritch).

Cheers!

J


In Her Best Friend’s Bed

J. Margot Critch






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


JUANITA MARGOT CRITCH currently lives in St. John’s, Newfoundland, with her husband, Brian, and their two little buddies, Simon and Chibs. She spends equal amounts of time writing, listening to Jimmy Buffett’s music and looking out at the ocean, all the while trying to decide if she wants coffee or a margarita.


As always, to Brian. Thank you for being the man all romance heroes aspire to be.

To lovely editor-extraordinaire Johanna Raisanen at Harlequin Blaze. Thank you for all of your guidance, support and patience. None of this could have happened without you.


Contents

Cover (#ud993909b-3842-555d-b15a-101ba318e80f)

Back Cover Text (#u69a99277-baa9-5b0c-b86a-9533dbb3b63e)

Introduction (#uf8b2cac8-f852-5395-8ee0-0c79a434a9c7)

Dear Reader (#ulink_5e9e194e-a0fb-50e3-a1eb-2067f28d63d7)

Title Page (#u71af71d9-c5dc-54c8-bbe7-8c6e6c549566)

About the Author (#ufe82286b-3105-5c03-b60a-d6eebe2f4871)

Dedication (#u561c996d-bda8-54fd-9750-765d5b550fcc)

Chapter 1 (#ua3433afd-b6ed-57c1-98d3-71d3228e1625)

Chapter 2 (#u37bf03ac-976a-56e8-bc94-401c720cec9c)

Chapter 3 (#ua6392fee-aa88-5771-8b95-ffdd51f37dc1)

Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


1 (#ulink_dc305195-1711-5ba7-9dd3-16b58af3309d)

TREVOR JONES LOOKED around the lounge of Swerve Las Vegas Hotel and Night Club, and as he sipped his champagne, one thing was clear—Jamie Sellers sure knew how to throw one hell of a party. He caught sight of his friend and Jamie’s new fiancée, Maya, as they made their rounds, greeting people, shaking hands, hugging. Jamie was smiling, relaxed.

In all of the years that Trevor had known Jamie, he had never seen his friend look quite so laid-back. Trevor knew that normally this type of event, the opening of a new Swerve location, would have tied Jamie into a ball of frayed nerves. But Maya’s presence and her love must have calmed him that evening. She had turned Jamie into a new man entirely. Of course, Trevor was happy for his friend. And he was proud of Jamie’s accomplishments, but with his recent success in Las Vegas and the hand of his love, Trevor couldn’t help but think that he and Jamie were about to spend a lot more time apart, and, as a grown man, that filled him with more gloom than he would have expected. Maybe Jamie’s success, professionally and personally, made Trevor realize that he, himself, wasn’t getting any younger. He was in his thirties. Maybe it was time for Trevor to move on with his life, settle down.

Trevor took a deep breath, inserted a finger under the collar of his shirt and pulled the constricting material away from his neck. He rolled his shoulders. The tailored jacket that had fit him perfectly earlier that evening now stretched across his shoulders and didn’t give an inch, as his internal temperature rose high enough to boil water. Trevor couldn’t wait to get back to his room to remove the suffocating layers.

He hated wearing suits.

Trevor’s wardrobe normally consisted of casual wear—jeans and T-shirts. His work behind the bar required him to be comfortable and unrestricted in his movements, especially when it was time to do a little drink mixing and flair bartending to the oohs and ahhs of the crowd. But the second you fasten all of the buttons on a shirt up to the collar and add the silk noose of a necktie, a confining jacket and tight, shiny shoes, it was enough to make a man go crazy.

He took a gulp of champagne and a meaningful look at the hardworking staff behind the bar. He wished he was back there, in his element, instead of a guest at the party. He just wasn’t in the mood to socialize, and Trevor wondered if Jamie would mind if he left the party early and went back to his room.

“You’re pretty quiet tonight over here by yourself.” He heard her voice behind him, interrupting his reverie. He recognized the voice—smoky, breathy—and he knew who he would see when he turned. But he wasn’t prepared for the visage she presented. Abby, Maya’s best friend. She was the feisty, pixie-haired blonde he had met on a couple of previous occasions before offering her a job behind the bar with him at the original Swerve, back home in Montreal.

He’d seen her earlier that night, in Jamie’s office, when they had all privately celebrated the opening and the engagement of their friends before hitting the party. But, like him, she had since changed out of her casual clothing into something more appropriate for the opulent gathering. Tonight her short blond hair was gelled back, and she was wearing a long-sleeved black dress, the neckline high, swathing her collarbone. He would have considered it to be far too conservative for the woman whose fashion choices leaned toward daring or risqué, but he had just seen the back, which was cut to just above her perfect behind, and the slit in the leg that parted high on her thigh when she walked.

She had great legs, in addition to every other feature, and he knew she had a flawless body under all that dress, as he’d gotten more than a few glimpses at a pool party that Jamie had thrown months earlier. When his eyes returned to her face, her smile let him know that she had caught him checking her out. She pursed her lips at him and took a drink from her champagne flute. “I would’ve expected you to have at least two women on your arm by now.”

With a cool smile, Trevor leaned in to her, close enough to smell her perfume, mingling with the smell of the champagne that lingered on her lips. “Oh, you know, I’m scoping the place out, weighing my options. How about you? No men here catching your eye?”

She laughed. The soft, raspy sound made him smile. She took a look around, surveying the room, and nodded appreciatively. “No one yet, but the night is young. There are lots of beautiful people here tonight.”

“There certainly are,” he answered, not able to take his eyes from her. What other people? If Trevor was being completely honest, he would admit that he hadn’t actually noticed any of them, especially with Abby standing in front of him in one of the sexiest dresses he’d ever seen. “And what about your boyfriend?” Trevor asked her, eyebrow raised. “Luther, is it?”

“Luke,” she corrected him with a side-eye glance. “And he’s neither a Luther nor my boyfriend.”

“Oh, really? What happened?” He tried his best to sound like the concerned friend he should be, all the while attempting to conceal his smile. Trevor never liked the guy; he wasn’t good enough for a woman like Abby.

Abby rolled her eyes. “He used the L word.”

“Loan?”

“Love,” she said with a laugh, pushing his shoulder playfully.

“It’s a bit soon for that, isn’t it?” Trevor asked. “You guys weren’t together very long.”

“You are correct. We were together for five weeks.”

“And the L word came out? Like, in conversation, or in the throes of passion?”

Abby giggled. “In a text message. This morning. Not one ounce of passion involved.”

“So, what happened then?”

“I texted him back, saying that maybe we should see other people, and I went back to eating my crepes.”

“That’s cold.”

Abby shrugged. “I’m not looking to be stuck in some relationship. Never have, never will. And he knew that.” She shrugged. Clearly not too broken up about her recent breakup. She turned back to Trevor. “Look at us, just a couple of kids from Montreal, partying with the upper echelon of the Las Vegas elite.” She smiled. But Trevor could tell that the curve of her lips was forced, and in her eyes was a look as weary as the one in his own.

“We sure are,” he agreed, but his sigh was heavy. “It’s a good time.”

Abby’s eyes were sharp as he felt their scrutiny, and it was a few seconds before she said anything. “Then why does it look like you’re about to bolt out of here?”

She had him there. Instead of answering her, Trevor brought his champagne flute to his lips and regrettably found it empty. He wished for more in an effort to cool his internal temperature and to quench his too-dry throat. He looked at Abby’s hand and noticed that she had drained her glass, as well. Turning, he gestured to the bar. “Care for another drink?”

“Sure.”

He looked around, searching for a waiter with a tray of champagne, but he found none nearby. Figuring they could probably get their glasses quickly refilled at the bar, Trevor moved aside so she could go first. He instinctively placed an escorting hand at the small of her back, and his palm tingled at the connection with her smooth skin, exposed by the indecently low cut of the back of her dress and slightly chilled from exposure to the room’s air-conditioning.

When he touched her, she stopped walking and looked up at him, her lips parted in surprise. Despite the considerable height provided to her by her stilettos, she was petite and the top of her head still only came to his chin. Trevor lowered his gaze to her red lips and found it nearly impossible to look elsewhere, until he forced himself and his eyes found hers. A beat of silence fell over them. Trevor could hear neither the music piping throughout the club nor the revelry of his fellow partygoers. He heard only the sound of his own heartbeat, pounding in his chest, and the blood rushing past his ears. And, for a moment, neither he nor Abby moved. Both of them seemed transfixed by the way his hand felt on her, how his palm flattened and molded to the smooth arch of her lower back.

Unable to tear his eyes from her, he took a chance. Testing the boundaries of both of them, Trevor moved his hand a little lower, his pinkie finger skimming the top of the material that curved over her behind. He watched Abby’s shoulders rise and felt her ragged shudder when they fell again. He realized then that he had been holding his breath and he let it go, exhaling roughly.

Abby blinked and finally looked around the room. She opened her mouth a little farther as if to speak, and the spell broke. “Uh...how about that drink?”

Trevor pulled his hand away and fastened the buttons of his jacket hastily, leaving only the bottom one undone. Thankfully, the length of his jacket covered the makings of the erection that resulted from only touching her bare skin. He took a step back and extended a hand in the direction of the bar. “After you.”

Abby nodded and walked ahead of him, with him staying a couple of steps behind her, and he couldn’t help but notice the sexy sway of her hips under the dark color of her dress and the way its low back threatened to reveal more with every step she took.

They found two empty seats at the bar. The bartender was quick and in seconds they had fresh glasses of champagne in their hands. Trevor took a sip and hummed appreciatively. Of course the champagne was top-shelf. Jamie knew the importance of creating a good impression with his guests, and he would never skimp when it came to getting the good stuff. He watched the bar staff whom he’d helped hire and train as they worked quickly and efficiently together. He smiled. He was glad that they turned out to be a good team. If the party and grand opening of Swerve Las Vegas was any indication, Jamie was about to have yet another successful venture on his hands.

“Quite a shindig, eh?” Abby remarked as she drank her champagne, her eyes looking everywhere but at him. Trevor wondered if he had previously misread her. He feared that he had made her nervous, and in turn made things awkward between them, ruining the budding friendship that they’d formed.

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “Classic Jamie. The man knows how to show people a good time.” He once again spied Jamie and Maya in the crowd as a couple of men shook Jamie’s hand and shifted away, leaving the couple alone for once.

“Isn’t it crazy that they’re engaged?” Abby asked him. She was watching them as Jamie scooped Maya up in a bear hug, lifting her off her feet and kissing her. Abby smiled, obviously as happy for them as Trevor was. “It’s so fast!”

“It certainly is. But they’re good for each other. I’m glad it worked out for them,” Trevor agreed, recalling the rocky road that had brought Jamie and Maya to that moment. “And I’m willing to bet that Jamie would like nothing more than for the both of them to get out of here and celebrate in private.”

“You’re telling me,” Abby said with a laugh.

Trevor and Abby sat in silence for a bit, both watching the crowd of people swarming and mingling before them. Then Trevor surreptitiously glanced at the gorgeous woman beside him, and he considered his physical reaction to simply touching Abby. He’d been with his share of women and had certainly touched more than a bare back in his day, but when he was near Abby, it felt like something inside him shifted. Sure, he was attracted to her—she’s a beautiful woman—but there was something else, something intangible that pulled at every fiber of his being, of his desire, when she was around.

He heard Abby laugh at something the bartender said to her. He frowned, feeling a small tinge of jealousy. But he shook his head to dispel it. It was never going to happen. It wouldn’t be appropriate. The time for them to get together had long passed.

When Trevor had first met Abby, she was a customer at Swerve. He’d thought she was hot, but he didn’t date customers. The next time they had met was at Jamie’s pool party back in June. Abby had worn the smallest bikini and it still fueled many of his hottest fantasies.

Fast forward to the present, and Trevor’s gaze drifted down to where she crossed her legs on the bar stool. The high slit of her skirt had fallen open, fully exposing her long, tanned and shapely legs. In his mind’s eye, Trevor pictured himself kissing his way up those legs, starting at her delicate ankle, dragging his tongue along the toned muscle of her calf, nibbling her inner thigh as he rose over her...

“So, do you have any plans for later, or do you just want to sit here and stare at my legs all night?”

Busted. He looked at her face and smiled broadly, unembarrassed. She had caught him checking her out once again. He clearly wasn’t being covert this evening. He must be off his game. Trevor laughed, and he had to think quickly. “Well, ah, I was just admiring your shoes. They’re great, but I’m not sure how you can walk in those things.”

She looked to her feet and the dangerously high heels. “If you like them so much, maybe you’ll get a pair of your own at the Swerve holiday gift exchange,” she told him pointedly.

She had him there. His libido came crashing back to earth when he finally remembered that she was his employee. When he’d heard that she was having trouble landing a job after graduating last spring, Trevor had hired Abby to work at Swerve and she had proved to be quite a valuable asset. Abby was an efficient, hard worker, and she kept the bar clean and tidy and the customers happy. He knew she wouldn’t be with him for long, since it would only be a matter of time until her job search rewarded her with a career suitable to her qualifications. But hiring her had still been a great decision.

When he didn’t reply, Abby laughed and sipped her drink. He noticed the flush on her cheeks. “I think I need a little air,” she announced, facing him. She stood. “Care to join me?”

Trevor decided then that he would go anywhere with her. “Sure.” When she started to make her way to the patio, he stopped her. “Wait. Have you seen the VIP rooftop bar in this place?”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “I have not. I didn’t even know there was one. But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Well, it’s not officially finished yet, but Jamie showed me yesterday. It’s great.”

She looked around the room. “Where is it?”

“On the roof,” he supplied with a smirk.

“You’re such a smart-ass,” she muttered, throwing a light punch on his shoulder. “How do we get there?”

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

He stood, careful to not touch her in any way, lest he lose control and throw her over his shoulder, run upstairs with her and lock them both in his room. They walked out of the club and past the regular bank of elevators to the one that would take them to the penthouse suites. From his pocket, Trevor removed the key card that Jamie had given him, emblazoned in gold with the letters VIP, and he inserted it into the slot to call the elevator.

“VIP, eh?” Abby asked him in a playful tone.

“Don’t be too impressed,” he told her as they stepped inside the elevator car. “It’s only because I’m very important,” he assured her, his voice deadpan, as he pushed the button to bring them to the rooftop.

Abby laughed, the soft, breathy sound filling the inside of the small elevator as it began its ascent.

Trevor watched her in the mirrored glass that covered the interior. Abby, however, was watching the numbers as they quickly climbed the floors to the top, but when she looked at the mirror and saw him staring at her, their reflections locked eyes. The only noise beside their breaths was the chime as the elevator announced that they had reached the rooftop.

The elevator doors pulled apart, revealing the open rooftop bar. Trevor could picture all of the people who would flock to Swerve just for the opportunity to be seen here and take in the view. He escorted Abby over to a high railing on the far side. The 360-degree view of the lights of the Las Vegas Strip, and of downtown in the distance, took his breath away. So far he had only seen the bar in the daylight. He was impressed then, but at night it was spectacular. The white leather furniture they walked past was sleek and crisp. And the dance floor, which would soon be filled with bodies moving to pulsing beats, was elevated and would be lit from below. He could only imagine the rush that would accompany dancing so high above the streets of one of the world’s hottest party spots.

Trevor and Abby stopped at the railing and neither spoke as they took in the view. They could see the people and the revelers milling about below, but, being so high up, they could hear nothing in the silence of the empty rooftop. Despite the fact that they were in Las Vegas, the late-fall air at night held a slight chill, and he saw the small bumps rise on the skin of Abby’s back. He shrugged off his jacket and placed it over her shoulders.

She pulled it closed over her chest. “Thanks.” She hesitated. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for letting me work at the bar. I really appreciate it.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said with a shake of his head. Her features were highlighted by the glow of the moon. She looked beautiful. “Any luck on the job front?”

She shook her head. “Big, fat goose egg,” she told him, making an O with her thumb and forefinger. “I’ve got résumés out, had a couple of interviews, but nada.”

“You’ll find something,” he assured her. He knew it was true, and it made him sad that he would soon be without her. “I know you won’t be working with me forever, but it’s nice to have you there. You’re a natural behind the bar.”

“Yeah, I can really pour a drink with the best of them,” she scoffed.

Trevor frowned at her tone. He knew that she didn’t take the job as seriously as she would the marketing career she dreamed of. He wished that she understood that bartending wasn’t just about pouring beer and twirling a cocktail shaker. To be successful, one had to possess an innate quality that few people could claim to have. Most people could be good at bartending. But one had to be kind, personable, tough, funny, organized, dexterous and quick in order to be great. And she was. Abby’s quick dismissal of the profession cut him to the quick and, even though he managed one of the hippest and most successful clubs in Montreal, it made him feel like a glorified bar boy.

“Hey, are you okay over there?” she asked him, breaking into his thoughts. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this quiet or contemplative.”

“Yeah, sure.” He shook his head, dispelling the melancholy that had overtaken him. His smile was smooth. “I like your dress.”

Abby looked down at herself and smoothed a hand down her front, over her flat stomach. Trevor’s eyes followed it intensely. “This old thing?” she laughed. “With the back, and the slit, I thought it might be a bit too much for tonight.”

“Anything goes in Vegas,” he offered with a smile.

“It sure does. What’s the old saying? ‘What happens in Vegas—’”

“‘Stays in Vegas.’ Yeah,” he finished for her and trailed off. They watched the lights and the action on the street below them. He heard her dress rustle and he felt her shift closer to him, until they were touching, side by side. He looked at his hands grasping the railing, and he saw her fingers slide across it, creeping until they touched his. The same electric current he’d felt earlier, when he’d had his hand on her back, jolted from her fingers to his.

He turned away from the railing to face her, and he brought his hand to rest lightly on her hip, ushering her closer to him, until they were almost pressed together. Her breasts grazed his chest and he tensed, his hand roamed under the jacket to settle once again on her bare lower back. This time, he wasn’t about to pull away from her. He looked down at Abby, unable to take his eyes away from her parted lips. He wanted to kiss her more than anything.

Trevor heard nothing but the faint notes of music that flittered up to them from below. He leaned in and brought his lips to hers, barely skimming them, just enough to get the smallest taste, but Trevor wanted more, and he took her bottom lip between his own, and he barely heard it when someone called out to him. He jerked back quickly, away from Abby, and they turned to the newcomer. Trevor cursed when he saw that it was Jamie, whose hand was tightly clasped in Maya’s.

“There you guys are,” he said and turned to Trevor. “I should have known I’d find you up here.”

“And you did,” Trevor responded. It seemed Jamie was oblivious to what they had interrupted, but one look at Maya’s raised eyebrow told him that she didn’t miss much. “What’s up?”

Jamie’s smile was sheepish. “I, uh, just wanted to show Maya the view up here at night.”

Trevor laughed. “Sure.” He was skeptical that the view was the only thing Jamie wanted to show Maya. “It really is something else, though.”

Jamie chuckled at Trevor’s doubt, clapped his palm on Trevor’s shoulder. “Sorry we haven’t been able to talk all night, man. Lots of hands to shake.”

“No problem,” Trever said. “I get it. It’s been a crazy night for you. How are you holding up?”

“Honestly, I’m exhausted,” Jamie replied, dragging a hand through his dark hair. He threw a glance at Maya. “We might take off.”

“You’re leaving your own party?” Abby asked.

“Yeah, I’ve already spoken to everyone I needed to,” Jamie explained. “We need to hit the sack. It’s been a big day.”

“And I repeat—sure...” Trevor smirked at his friend. He knew Jamie was going to bed with his new fiancée, but he doubted that either of them would be getting much sleep.

“It’s been a long day,” Maya concurred, unable to pry her eyes away from Jamie’s face.

Abby nodded, clearly unconvinced, as well. “Uh-huh.”

“You both suck,” Jamie said, laughing and looking back and forth between Trevor and Abby. “Anyway, we’re leaving. But would you guys like to get breakfast tomorrow morning before your flight home?”

“Yeah, sure.” Trevor nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

“Me, too,” Abby responded.

“Great. Let’s meet at the café here in the hotel. Around eleven o’clock?”

Trevor and Abby both nodded in agreement, and they watched as Maya pulled Jamie away from them, into the elevator and most definitely down to their penthouse suite. Before Trevor knew it, he and Abby were once again alone.

Abby was first to speak. She exhaled a breath. “You know, I should be getting to bed, too.” She let out a yawn that Trevor knew was forced. But he walked her to the elevator and they waited for the car that would take them down.

When they got to the main floor, he escorted her to the elevators that would bring them to the guest rooms. Trevor stopped Abby before she got into an elevator alone. “Want me to walk you up?” he asked her. His intentions were mostly those of a complete gentleman, who wished to see her to her room safely. But part of him was hopeful that she would invite him into her room so that they could finish what they’d started.

She shook her head, dashing his hopes. “No. It’s not necessary. I’m a big girl.”

Trevor didn’t want to push it. He knew that Abby was a strong woman. She didn’t need or want a man to look after her. If he insisted on walking her to her door, it would just make her angry. “Even so. Sure you don’t need the company?”

“I’m sure. I’ll be fine.” She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“Why don’t you text me when you get up there, though? Just so I know you made it all right.”

“Fine,” she said, laughing as she walked into the elevator. “See you in the morning.”

The doors closed between them, and Trevor was all alone in the lobby. He sighed and downed the rest of his champagne, emptying the glass he still held in his hand. He walked back into the club. The party was still in full swing and he surveyed the room full of strangers. He figured he might as well head up to his room. He and Abby had to fly back to Montreal the next afternoon, and shortly after landing, he would have to head to the club for some meetings that he’d scheduled with a couple of vendors, and he had to finish the staff schedule for the upcoming week and input the end-of-month inventory numbers, and he had to make arrangements for upcoming holiday events booked at the club... His to-do list was a mile long.

On the other hand, he knew that it would be a while before he’d be in Vegas again, so he might as well enjoy the party and the free drinks and the glamourous company while he could. He was never one to turn down a good party. “I can sleep on the plane,” he muttered with a shrug.

He really wished that Abby had stuck around. He missed her. She was great to talk to. They had become such good friends in the past couple of months. It turned out that they had a lot in common and enjoyed each other’s company. They went to movies together, had dinner together, talked through their respective problems—Abby would even confide in him about the men in her life.

Alone, he walked back to the bar and ordered another drink. He sat at an empty stool and turned around to once again survey the room, thinking about Abby back in her room, and how he wished he was up there with her, but she’d rebuffed his offer. And he took that as a definite sign that she was interested in nothing more than friendship with the likes of him.

“Is this seat taken?”

Trevor turned his head to the voice and smiled when he saw a gorgeous woman in a short red dress standing beside the empty stool next to him. He held out a hand, gesturing to the stool. “It’s all yours.”

* * *

ABBY TAPPED HER foot as she waited for the elevator to take her to her floor. She folded her arms and realized that she was still wearing Trevor’s jacket. She pulled the collar to her nose and inhaled his scent as it completely enrobed her. She could still feel the tingle of his lips on hers. And she knew that if one brush of his mouth against hers had elicited such a reaction, why hadn’t she asked Trevor to come up with her? He’d offered. But for some reason she’d said no. Was it fear? If she had invited him up, then their friendship would have been irrevocably changed, and his friendship was too valuable to her. But, God, she shivered at the thought, what a night it would be.

Abby took out her phone and saw the many messages from Luke. She sighed and walked out of the elevator when the doors pulled apart at her floor, heading for her room, but she paused outside her door. Luke had broken her first rule. Don’t get serious. She didn’t want a serious relationship. Just a little bit of fun. She turned her head and looked longingly at the door she knew belonged to Trevor’s room. He was still down there at the party and she could have been, as well. She checked her watch and, with a sigh, she realized that it was still pathetically early. Determined, Abby turned on her heel and walked back to the elevator.

Before she could change her mind, the doors opened and she stepped back inside the same elevator she had just vacated and drummed her fingers against her thigh as she counted the numbers as she descended to the lobby. Maybe she and Trevor could continue the kiss they’d shared. Maybe more.

When she got back to the nightclub, the party was still in full swing, the lights had dimmed and the music had gotten louder. More people were dancing. Abby squinted into the crowd, scanning the room for the familiar face that she sought. But it was his laugh that she somehow heard over the din of the club before she could pick him out of the crowd. He was sitting at the bar. She smiled and started to walk to him. She was almost there when she stopped short and ducked behind a couple of men enjoying themselves nearby. When she got around them, she had a clear view of the bar.

And next to Trevor was a woman. A glamorous brunette in a short dress on the bar stool next to him. Trevor smiled at her. Abby’s mouth dropped in shock, outrage or maybe disappointment. Trevor had just been kissing her on the rooftop, and here, just minutes afterward, he sat, obviously making up for lost time, drinking with another woman.

Disappointment and anger roiling through her system, Abby exhaled and left the club. She pushed the call button for the elevator several times. Coming after him had been a mistake. One she wouldn’t make again. She might not be looking for a relationship, but she also couldn’t get involved with a man like Trevor. She was glad she’d seen him because, even though she would still count him as a friend, she now knew exactly what type of guy Trevor Jones was. And it was all she needed to affirm her decision to stay away from men in general. Whether they were quick to fall in love or they were players, it was best for her to stay away from all of them.


2 (#ulink_8dbd4ecb-4159-5cbc-86e1-814cac30870e)

Three months later...

“WHAT CAN I get you?” Abby leaned over the bar to hear the order of a heavily made-up woman over the pounding music. Swerve was packed that night and the music was loud and driving. Wednesday nights were never usually so busy. But semester break had started and the college students were out en masse.

The woman, definitely past college age by a number of years, pursed her red lips. “Can I get two screaming orgasm shots?”

Abby had no idea what the woman was talking about.

She racked her brain for whatever a screaming orgasm shot could be, and she pulled out her phone to look up the recipe, but when she looked over at Trevor, who was busy filling his own orders, and realized that she had the opportunity to have a little fun with him.

“Hey, Trev,” she called across the bar. “Think you can give this lady a couple of screaming orgasms?”

Trevor smirked and finished his own drinks before sauntering over to her. “I think I can handle that.” He grinned. “Wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.”

Abby rolled her eyes and walked away. Of course the blonde wearing all that makeup was most definitely Trevor’s type. And even though she basically served the woman up to Trevor, Abby couldn’t help but feel a small wrench of something—hurt? Jealousy?—in the pit of her stomach as she watched Trevor flirt with her. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced since Vegas, seeing Trevor with that other woman at the bar, just after they’d kissed. Abby had never told him that she’d come back to the bar three months ago and seen him with that woman.

And now it was too late. Their relationship had long transcended potentially romantic to become strictly platonic. Sure, they were flirty and frequently peppered their conversation with naughty double entendres, but they were friends, and, with Maya living in Las Vegas, Abby greatly appreciated having a good friend, even if he was definitely not the type of guy she was going to date...if she was ever going to date anyone again.

Which she wasn’t.

But being friends hadn’t stopped her from still feeling his lips on hers, and the promise of more that flowed from just a simple graze of their lips, the heat of his hand on her bare back...

Abby looked up. She was still in Swerve. Still in Montreal, not on top of the roof of Swerve’s Las Vegas location; meanwhile, dozens of thirsty patrons lined her bar. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by some guy, hunky sexpot, or not. She had to regain her focus. She had to concentrate on herself, getting her career back on track and not let herself get distracted by men, the ones who wanted a commitment or guys like Trevor. Bad boys. Players. She shook her head and got back to work.

Abby reached into the cooler and took out a couple of beer bottles. She popped off the tops and passed them to a man who was trying to catch her eye. She ignored his advances and continued on to the next customer. She cast another quick glance at Trevor, just as he turned his head and caught her looking at him. He pulled away from the woman, moving to fill other drink orders. But the woman called out to him again and reached out, grabbing his forearm, her long red nails grazing the dark ink that covered it. She handed him her card and Abby was surprised that the woman didn’t kiss it first, to leave a print of her red lipstick on it. Trevor smiled and pocketed it.

And another notch on the bedpost...

Why did she care?

When Trevor continued his work, Abby watched the woman walk away, carrying her shot glasses to a friend at a nearby table. Trevor passed behind Abby, the hard muscles of his chest grazing her back as he side-stepped around her in the tight space. She could feel his heat through the material of both their shirts. He mumbled a soft, awkward apology near her ear, his warm breath rippling over her, the deep timbre of his murmur rattling around in her brain. She had to force herself to shake away the wave of desire that passed through her body. There was nothing remotely romantic about the contact. They were sharing limited space behind the bar, and they bumped together or brushed past each other on a nightly basis. This time should have been no different.

But tell that to her now-moist panties...

Abby went about her work, making drinks for thirsty patrons. A customer ordered two margaritas on the rocks, with salt. Abby nodded her approval, looking for the ingredients. She picked up a bottle of tequila and grabbed the lime juice. She wet the rims of the glasses with a lime wedge and dunked them in a dish of coarse salt. Abby loved a good margarita and wished that she was on the other side of the bar ordering it, instead of the person making it. She looked at the bottles in front of her and realized one was missing. She went to the backup bottles of liqueur to find another, but found none.

“Trevor, where’s the extra Cointreau?” she called without looking at him.

“Try the cupboard below the glassware,” he suggested.

Abby bent at the waist and checked the shelves. Trevor was right—it was exactly where he’d said it would be. She stood and turned to face him and he quickly looked away, as if she’d caught him checking her out. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

She glanced around the crowded bar. Bartending wasn’t exactly what she’d envisioned her career would be after graduation. Thankfully, Trevor had offered her a job at Swerve. But as her feet ached in the heels she insisted on wearing—they make my legs look great with this skirt—she thought about the dozens of applications for marketing positions she’d submitted around the city and hoped that she would hear something promising soon. She had an interview the next morning. Maybe it would be the one that got her out from behind the bar, where Trevor distracted her at every turn with accidental physical contact, the smell of his cologne, his dark chuckle when he laughed...

She paused for a moment and watched Trevor at work, his masterful, strong hands as he made drinks. He tossed a vodka bottle behind his back with one hand and then, with the other, he reached for a cocktail shaker and twirled it, as well, before catching it. The man was good. He was in complete control. He was built for that type of work, and the awards and accolades he’d won were well earned.

Abby’s focus returned to those hands, though—his long fingers, the soft, dark hair covering corded wrists that flexed with every movement, the collage of black ink that snaked up his forearms, starting at his wrists and disappearing under the material of his black shirt that he’d rolled up to his elbows. She imagined him doing other things with those hands. Hot things. Sexy things. To her. Running them up and down her body until she cried out...

Abby blinked out of her fantasy. God, focus. She and Trevor were coworkers and friends. That was it. Whatever could have happened between them romantically, that kiss, was in the past. The moment was over. She glanced up and saw the blonde woman standing with a friend at a nearby table. She waved a perfectly manicured hand at Trevor and Abby saw him smile and wink back at the woman. She sighed and moved on to the next customer, as she remembered her resolve to not fall under the spell of a man. She could do better, live for herself and no one else, not like Screaming Orgasm Lady or even her own mother.

She put all sexy thoughts of Trevor out of her head, and she got back to what he was paying her to do.


3 (#ulink_52d142f5-f20c-53c0-94f4-f5c6a24aa240)

THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Abby pulled into the empty parking lot of Swerve. She was running late, having just come from her job interview. She thought that it went well, and her hopes were high. Still wearing her suit, she crossed the parking lot. Inside the club, Abby started for the ladies’ restroom, so she could change into her miniskirt and official Swerve tank top. But she stopped. The bathroom was located at the other end of the club. She was already late for her shift, and any minute she could spare getting ready would be great. So instead of heading down to the restroom, she ducked into Trevor’s office and shut the door behind her. He wouldn’t mind. Hell, she could go in, change and be out prepping the bar before he even showed up. If he showed up on time.

He probably won’t be if he went home with that blonde tart last night. Maybe she had herself a couple more screaming orgasms, Abby thought with a bitter grimace as she pulled off her blazer. She’d noticed the woman hanging around for the rest of the night, never taking her eyes from Trevor. And when they had walked out, locking up the bar, the blonde had been waiting for him in the parking lot. Not wanting to stick around to see the obvious outcome, Abby gave Trevor a brief, friendly fist bump and then they’d parted ways.

“Okay, that wasn’t fair,” she chastised herself as she unbuttoned her blouse. “Both he and the incredible Screaming Orgasm Lady are adults. Maybe the only things screaming were her pores under all that makeup.” Heh.

“That wasn’t fair, either,” she muttered, trying to convince herself. “They can do whatever they want.” And she wasn’t about to blame a woman who might have Trevor all to herself for a night. Just because Abby had passed up the opportunity to spend what would have been an unbelievable night with him, it didn’t mean that any other sane woman in the world would do the same thing.

* * *

TREVOR PARKED HIS car next to Abby’s in the Swerve parking lot. It was March and the chill of winter still hung in the air. He wished spring would come soon, as he was looking forward to getting his motorcycle back out on the road. His car was nice enough, but driving it paled in comparison to taking a bike out on the open road. He unbuckled his seat belt and yawned, rubbing his fingers over his eyes. He was beat. He’d been at the club until three that morning, and he was even later getting home than usual, after waiting for the cab he’d called to pick up the blonde woman who’d been flirting with him all night. He remembered the weary sigh he’d given when he saw her standing outside the door, looking for him. She had been persistent, but he’d sent her on her way.

Once home, he’d had one hell of a time getting to sleep. After tossing and turning in his bed, he’d considered it useless, poured himself a double scotch and collapsed in front of his television, and it was daylight before he felt his eyes drift closed in surrender. Physically, he was in great shape, but a busy night at the bar now seemed to take more out of him than it used to. When he was in his twenties, he could work all night and still have the energy to party until daylight. But lately the aches in his feet, wrists and joints were more pronounced, as was the weariness of his mind, and he wondered how much longer he would be able to keep up with the pace.

But it wasn’t the hard work or even the blonde woman who had waited for him outside the club that kept his mind racing in the early hours of this morning. It was Abby Shaw. Every time he had closed his eyes she was there, her long legs, short blond hair, bright smile, the feisty glint in her eye and certainly her shapely ass when she bent over to retrieve the liquor bottle—it was as if he had memorized her every feature. Since that night in Vegas when he’d kissed her, he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

They hadn’t even spoken of the night, the party at Jamie’s hotel or even the city itself. It all reminded him that it was as telling a sign as any that she wasn’t interested in pursuing any sort of relationship with him. Which was fine with him since he sure wasn’t going to date one of his employees.

And then there was their friendship to consider. He didn’t want to risk losing her. Although she was gorgeous and sexy and a lot of fun to hang out with, he saw what happened when Abby got scared and ran away from her boyfriends. She pushed them aside, usually because a man tried to get close to her. He knew there was something in her past that made her feel that way, but she’d never told him what it was. With how Trevor had been feeling lately, the weariness that accompanied his desire to settle down and act like an adult, he knew that either way, it wasn’t in the cards for him and Abby to be any more than friends.

He scrubbed his stubbled jaw with his palm and realized that he’d forgotten to shave. Great. With one more yawn for good measure, Trevor reached into his pocket for his keys to the club and from the backseat pulled a case of top-shelf vodka. People went crazy for the stuff and didn’t mind paying the exorbitant price for it. To each their own. Those customers paid his bills, and the tips cushioned his savings and investment accounts nicely. He hefted the case into his arms, made sure he had a good handle on it and headed to the club.

Inside, he grimaced at the glare of the lights. He pushed his sunglasses farther up his nose and walked to the stockroom to unload the box of liquor. He pulled one bottle out to put behind the bar and then headed back. Before he made it back to the bar, Trevor stopped at the closed door of his office. Strange. He didn’t normally close it after checking out each night. He walked to the door, still holding the bottle, and pushed it open.

Surprised, Trevor dropped the bottle to the floor, and the frosted glass shattered into hundreds of liquor-soaked pieces. Abby stood in front of him, wearing nothing but her short black skirt and high heels. The smell of expensive vodka filled the air, as she clutched her black tank top in front of her stomach, and it took Trevor less than one second to focus on the wide expanse of smooth, alabaster skin of her high, full breasts and flat stomach. They stood in stunned silence for a couple of beats. Trevor was oblivious to everything but her, even the alcohol seeping into his sneakers.

It was a few moments before she broke free of her shock and came to her senses. “Oh, God, Trevor,” she screeched and raised her arms to cover her perfect breasts. Trevor frowned briefly, mourning the loss of the view of her dusty-pink nipples.

“Oh, shit!” He became cognizant of the mess at his feet and bent to clean it up. “I’m sorry.” He stared at the floor, trying to look away from her, attending to the glass. “I didn’t even know you were in here.” He raised his hand and turned his head slightly. “What are you doing in here?”

“I came in here to change out of my suit.” In his periphery he could see her turn her back to him and pull her tank top over her head. “What are you doing here?”

“This is my office.” When Trevor looked up a little, he caught her dark, distorted reflection in the screen of the turned-off computer monitor on his desk. He felt like a lecher, but he couldn’t force his eyes away.

“But you’re early,” she protested. He watched her reflection as she straightened her shirt over her chest and down to her waist. And she huffed out a breath that made her breasts rise and then fall. “I’m done. You can turn around now.”

Trevor did as she told him. She was fully dressed, stuffing her business suit into her duffel bag. She didn’t look at him.

“I’m sorry,” she said with an outward breath. “I shouldn’t have used your office.”

“It’s fine. Use it anytime you want,” he told her. “I’ll just knock when the door is closed. Who knows when there will be a half-naked woman in here?” He laughed.

“Knowing what I do about you, it really could happen at any time,” she retorted, one eyebrow raised.

Trevor frowned at her approximation of him; nothing like that had ever happened to him at work. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. I really didn’t know that you were in here.”

Abby laughed and pushed past him. “You didn’t embarrass me at all. I know I look good naked.” She winked at him and walked behind the bar to start work.

Trevor exhaled roughly and watched her. He replayed her words in his brain: I know I look good naked.

Yeah, he thought. No lie there.

* * *

IT WAS A few hours later, and Abby ducked into the small backroom off the bar for a quick, much-needed break to sit down and drink some water. Her feet were sore—why did she always opt to wear heels to work? She rolled her ankles and pulled out her cell phone. On the screen she saw a notification of a missed call from a number that was only vaguely familiar to her. She dialed her voice mail. The mystery was soon solved when the message started playing, and she realized it was the voice of Michael Arnett, the man who had interviewed her earlier that day.

She turned the volume up on her phone, so she could hear over the din of the club. “Hello, Ms. Shaw,” Arnett’s voice on the recorded message sounded in her ear. “I’m just calling to let you know that we really enjoyed meeting you today...”

She smiled and sat straight. This is it.

“But we have decided to go in another direction with hiring for the position. We’ll keep you in mind in the future. Good luck in your job search.”

Abby disconnected the phone and slumped in her chair, huffing out a frustrated breath. She thought that she’d completely killed that interview, and to find out that she hadn’t gotten the job—well, it sucked.

This night just keeps getting better and better...

Abby frowned and mentally checked off yet another opportunity that she’d missed. She glanced at her watch—just over four hours left before she could go home and wallow in self-pity. She might as well get back out there. She’d been away from the bar for five minutes, leaving Trevor on his own. She stood and opened the door, and she looked out at the bar. Trevor somehow managed to keep the place going on his own. He didn’t really need her back there and she was certain he only offered her the job to be nice. She wasn’t a great bartender and she felt she was in his way most of the time. But he never complained.

With a sigh, she walked behind the bar and plastered her biggest smile on her face—as phony as a three-dollar bill. She was bummed, but she wouldn’t let it get in the way of doing her job. She might only be a bartender, but for now it was her job and she would do her best.

Trevor caught her eye and gave her a curious look, furrowing his brows at her. She shook her head, dismissing him. He watched her for a moment longer before returning to his work and letting her get on with hers.

* * *

WHEN LAST CALL sounded and all the patrons had stumbled out, Trevor took a deep breath, exhausted. They were busy, maybe even busier than they had been the night before. Spring break meant a bigger crush of new faces, in addition to loyal locals, in the bar. Financially, it was great. Jamie would be happy with the numbers and Trevor and Abby had both benefited as well, but they’d worked their asses off for their tips.

Trevor locked the door and watched Abby as she wet a blue cloth with sanitizer and started cleaning up. He knew that there was definitely something going on with her. Ever since she’d taken her break, her demeanor had changed. Sure, she was smiling, but he knew better. He knew it was fake. Something had upset her. But what?

“Everything okay over there?” he called out to her, approaching the bar.

“Yeah, fine,” she responded, scrubbing a spot on the stainless steel without looking up.

Trevor wasn’t at all convinced. He walked back to her, leaning against the bar. “Are you sure? It looks like something is bothering you.”

“No,” she started. “Well, yes.” She threw down her rag. “I got a call about my interview this morning...”

“Really?” Trevor was interested. He hoped for a happy ending to her story, but, by the look on her face, he knew it was anything but.

“Yeah, I didn’t get it. They went in another direction. HR speak for ‘you suck and never come back.’”

He frowned. “You don’t suck, Abby. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

So that was it. She was disappointed that she hadn’t gotten the job. Trevor wasn’t looking forward to losing her, but he didn’t like to see her beautiful smile faltering from frustration and disappointment. Trevor hated to see her upset. He reached into the beer cooler under the bar and withdrew two bottles. He popped the top off one and passed it to Abby.

She accepted it, raising an eyebrow. “Drinking on the job? That’s not like you.”

He shrugged and opened his own beer before he began wiping down the counters. “We had a crazy night here. I think we’ve earned it.”

She nodded. “That’s true. Thank you.” She saluted him with the green bottle and took a long swallow.

He watched her meticulously tidy the counter behind her and arrange the liquor bottles, making sure they were located on the appropriate shelves and the spouts were clean. While the servers were responsible for making sure the rest of the club was clean, he and Abby concentrated on the bar and making sure the cash registers and the bank deposit balanced at the end of the night.

They cleaned side by side, not talking, both using extra force to scrub the surfaces, whether it was necessary or not. Trevor wondered if they were both taking out their frustration—sexual or otherwise—on the countertops. They cleaned and then recleaned. Trevor normally insisted on a spotless bar, but they were in danger of entirely wiping the chrome from the bar top.

The cocktail servers had all finished their own work and left by the time Trevor and Abby pulled away from the now-immaculate bar area. Trevor looked around and realized they were alone in the building.

Abby threw down her cloth and finally proclaimed their work done. She disposed of their empty beer bottles, and he watched her as she stretched to reach the bottles on the top shelf behind the bar. Trevor couldn’t help but appreciate the length of her body, her shirt riding up to give him a peek at the smooth skin on her back, and he saw the top of the butterfly tattoo that he knew was there, just above her hip. He managed to somehow avert his eyes just in time as she turned around holding a bottle of expensive tequila and two shot glasses.

He looked at her bounty, eyebrow raised in question. She ignored him as she poured two shots. “I’m in need of something a little stronger than beer tonight,” she explained. “What do you say?”

“Yeah, what the hell?” he said with a smile. He took the shot she offered before he turned back to the cash register and began counting the money.

Abby took her shot, as well, and then she glanced around the bar. He knew she was looking for something else to clean. “Why don’t you go sit down?” he told her. “I just need a couple of minutes here.” It was a rule that the staff always leave the club in groups at the end of the night. He didn’t want any of them vulnerable late at night in the parking lot. Who knew what kind of drunks or weirdos were out there?

“Sure.” Abby shrugged her shoulders and, taking the tequila bottle, she walked to a nearby table.

Trevor removed the money from the register and looked up briefly to see her pour another shot, a frown taking over her entire gorgeous face.

“You’ll find something, Abby,” he told her. Her eyes rose from her bottle to hit his directly, her gaze cutting a path straight to his belly. “Just keep at it. You’re a catch. Any business would be lucky to have you. I know I am.” A swell of melancholy rose in his chest, for her sadness and his own. He would miss her like crazy if she worked anywhere else.

“Does that mean I can use you as a reference?” she asked with a mirthful smile, before raising the shot glass to her mouth and knocking back the tequila.

Trevor laughed, but the sound died as he watched the muscles in her delicate throat bounce as she swallowed the liquor. When she brought the glass down to the table, it hit with a heavy clink. How much time did he spend watching Abby while she looked absolutely sexy doing completely mundane things? “Pour me another?” he asked, shoving his glass across the bar. She did as he asked, and then she poured her own.

“You trying to get me drunk?”

“I would never think of it,” he said with a wink. “Plus, I’m not the one pouring.”

“Well, I can’t let you drink alone,” she explained carefully.

“How generous of you,” he said, laughing, and lofted his shot glass. “Sláinte,” he said. He felt the second shot hit his belly, not as harsh as the first. But he was glad that she’d selected a smoother, higher-end tequila for their bingeing. Trevor didn’t think he could handle the burn of a cheaper brand.

“What’s that?”

“An Irish toast. A cheers to good health. My old man used to say it a lot before he took a drink.”

“Sláinte,” she repeated. “I like it.”

“I’m pretty certain that neither of us can drive home now,” he took a breath, the tequila starting to hit him in the pit of his empty stomach.

Abby shrugged as she sauntered back to her table. Trevor couldn’t help but notice the sway of her hips under her short skirt. She threw a look over her shoulder. “I don’t live far. I’ll walk. And I’m not quite ready to head home to an empty apartment just yet. Plus, I’m having fun relaxing right here. It’s been a long time since we’ve hung out.”

“It has been far too long,” Trevor agreed, closing the register with an authoritative slam. He finished with the cash duties by printing off the sales receipts and totaling the nightly deposit. He could officially call it another great night in the books, as he looked over the numbers. The bar was doing well in his capable hands, if he did say so himself.

He picked up a stack of bills and left the bar to sit with Abby at the booth. He cut the stack in half and passed over her share of the tips.

Abby took her money. “Nice. Thanks.”

“Pretty good night, huh?”

Abby flicked through the stack of bills with her thumb. “It sure was.”

“What are you going to do with your vast riches?” he asked her, joking, pocketing his own share.

“Well, I think I’m going to splurge on some grand luxuries.” She sighed wistfully. “You know, things like electricity, cell phone bill—ooh, there’s some really fancy bread and milk that I’ve been dying to try,” she finished with a laugh.

Trevor laughed with her, but she worried him. He frowned. “Are you doing okay, financially? I can schedule you for more hours, or I can float you a loan, if you want.”

She shook her head and put a hand on his arm. Her light touch made his heart stutter in his chest. “Trevor, I’m fine. It was just a joke. Ha-ha. Sure, it’s a little harder to pay the rent with Maya gone. But I am fine. See?” She picked up the stack of bills in front of her and waved it in Trevor’s face.

“Thanks to you, I’ve got a job where I make fat stacks of cash and I can drink for free.” For emphasis she poured two more shots. After she swallowed, she giggled. “I’ll be fine until I find a real job.” She smacked a palm to her forehead. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry. I know this is your job. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine, Abby,” he assured her, sweeping a hand through the air of the empty club. “All of this is my kingdom.”

“You certainly get your pick of the ladies in the kingdom, that’s for sure.”

Trevor frowned again. He didn’t normally use the club to pick up women. He never overserved them to make them bend to his will, and he never went for the college girls, who were always trying to get him in bed... And he never let his staff see him go home with a woman. He didn’t want to set a bad example and have them to think it was okay or an acceptable business practice. But he wondered where she got the idea that he did.

“What are you talking about?” While he had been a bit wild in the past, he wasn’t the man whore that she seemed to think he was. He hadn’t even been with anyone in months. While Trevor didn’t normally care what people thought of him, it stung that Abby had a negative opinion of him. What she thought mattered to him.

“You know,” Abby said, with a slight slur. “That woman last night, that girl in Vegas...”

When Abby trailed off, Trevor was surprised. “What girl?” It was the first time either of them had mentioned their trip to Sin City.

“That girl at Jamie’s party,” she went on. “After we parted ways, I went back to my room, you met her at the bar.”

“You came back to the party?” Trevor narrowed his eyes at her. He barely remembered the woman who had sat beside him at the bar in Vegas.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

She scoffed. “Why does it matter? You were otherwise occupied.”

“That’s not how it was, Abby—” He wanted to clear the air, explain that he wasn’t the complete horndog player that she apparently thought he was. “You’ve got the wrong idea. I didn’t spend the night with her. I finished my drink and went to bed. Alone. And that woman last night? I called her a cab and waited here until she was in it.”

“It’s okay!” she insisted. “You’re a guy. You have those typical male urges. And you’re hot. I see how women look at you and how you talk to them. You’re smooth. I’m surprised you don’t have to beat the women off with a stick every night.”

Trevor leaned back, away from her touch, and cleared his throat roughly around the lump that had formed there. Abby wasn’t far off. He was often on the receiving end of female attention, but what he couldn’t tell her was that, since that night in Vegas, he hadn’t been interested in any other woman who came on to him. They were quiet for a moment. “So, any new fellows on the scene?” he asked her, hoping to steer the conversation away from himself.

Abby poured another shot, knocked it back and laughed bitterly. “No,” she said. “There are certainly no fellows—new or otherwise—on the scene. Oh! I haven’t told you, have I?”

“Told me what?”

“Well, after I ended things with Luke a few months back, I decided to give up men,” she said, slamming her glass to the table with a loud thud.

“You’re giving up men?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. I’m no longer in the dating game.”

“So, you’re never going to date again?” He paused. “What about sex?” He crossed his arms, creating a safe distance between them.

She paused. “What about it?”

“Well,” he said, his smile smug, “I can’t be the only one with those typical urges. What are you going to do to fulfill those?”

“I didn’t say that I was giving up sex.” Abby rolled her eyes. “I’m just not going to be dating anymore. No more relationships.”

“Okay.” Trevor was still skeptical, but he was intrigued. “So, what exactly brought this about?”

“I’m glad you asked, Trevor. Let me tell you...” Her words ran together a little and he knew that they should go home, but he was having a great time. She held up her hand and grasped one finger in her other hand. “One—my tendency is to only go for these guys who want to settle down and get married immediately, and then expect me to have, like, twelve babies.” She screwed up her face in a scowl. “You know that’s not me. Never has been. And I always let them know where I stand on that. I tell them not to fall in love with me. I can’t help it that they do.” She stopped to take a breath. Trevor knew she wasn’t finished. “Then there’s all the losers, bad boys, playboys. I don’t want any more of those boys. There’ve been too many of those. So I decided that it’s best to not see any of them.”

“Okay,” Trevor said carefully. “Makes sense. Anything else?”

“Why, yes, there is.” Abby continued her list, grasping her second finger in her other hand. “Number two—at this point in my life, I can’t afford to be distracted from my path. I’ve been out of school for...what? Almost a year? I’m still here at Swerve, and again, I’m superappreciative,” she added for Trevor’s benefit, “but this isn’t how I imagined my life going. So if I were to meet a guy who I would even consider dating, he would only take up valuable energy that I need to make up for lost time and get back on the track where I should be.”

“Sure.” Trevor nodded. “And what about number three?” he asked, pouring them each another shot. He would definitely be paying for this in the morning. It had been a while since he’d had this much to drink in such a short span of time.

“Three—” Abby grasped a third finger. “Number three is my favorite. There’s nothing a man can regularly give me that my best vibrator can’t. And it won’t leave the toilet seat up.” She picked up her glass, sloshing the gold-colored liquor over the sides, spilling over her fingers. “Sláinte!” She drank and slammed her glass on the table.

Trevor’s eyes widened and he almost choked on the tequila that was still in his mouth. He managed to swallow it without spitting it across the table. “A man can’t give you anything more than your best vibrator can?” he laughed. “Is that so?”

Abby winked at him. “Diamonds aren’t always a girl’s best friend, Trevor. It’s a sad truth how replaceable you men are.” She shrugged. “Don’t look so shattered.”

“Honey, I’m not shattered,” he assured her, his voice lowered, and he moved in slightly. “I’m just sad. If you think a man is completely replaceable by a battery-operated appliance, then I’m afraid that none of the men you’ve been with have really, truly rocked your world.”

“Rocked my world?”

“That’s right,” he said casually.

Abby laughed. “Don’t worry about my world and how much it gets rocked. Unless you’re offering, that is.” She raised an eyebrow and reached out and touched his chest. The touch, playful at first, soon turned serious as her fingers lingered.

He had absolutely no response to that. Was he offering? So he chuckled instead. That was one of the things he liked about Abby. She was brash, funny and sassy. He liked all of that. She still had her hand on his chest.

Trevor looked down, watching Abby’s fingers curl over the material of his shirt, her fingernails singeing the skin underneath. She flattened her palm and smoothed it over his chest, and his breath stilled as he watched her hand move back and forth over his pecs. His muscles tensed in an involuntary reaction. His gaze rose from her fingers to her parted lips. How she made her cherry-red lipstick last all night, he had no idea.

He opened his mouth to speak, but how could he do that when his tongue refused to work in his mouth?

“Abby,” he whispered. He barely heard the murmur as it passed his lips, and he didn’t imagine that she’d heard it, either. But she looked up at him, her gaze didn’t waver, and all that Trevor was aware of was her hand on him, the pounding in his chest and the quick rush of blood that quickly made its way south, away from his brain, depositing directly in his lap.

In the center of his chest, her hand stopped moving, but she kept it where it was, light pressure on his sternum. There was no way that she could have missed the thundering of his heart, threatening to beat clear through his chest. The noise of it in his own ears was deafening. Neither of them spoke, and his eyes pinned on to hers. “Abby,” he whispered again.

Their breaths were matched, heavy. And she was so close to him that he could feel her warmth, smell the scent of citrus from her shampoo. She leaned in and looked up at him with large green eyes. A short tendril of hair fell into her eyes, and he reached out and brushed it aside. Need tugged at his chest and his dick. How easy it would be to pull her to him, rip off all of their clothes and make love to her in the booth.

But Trevor took a deep breath. They were friends, he maintained. He couldn’t have her. As long as she worked for him, he wouldn’t let himself have her. He was stuck in a volatile situation—the two of them, alone, drinking, and then add to this the fact that he’d seen her naked earlier that evening and knew she was absolutely flawless underneath the clothing that she was wearing...

“We should leave,” he murmured, trying to regain a hold on the situation. He placed his hand over hers. At first, he thought he would remove it, but he was powerless to push her away. So he held her there, her palm pressed against his chest.

“Yeah, we should,” she said breathlessly. She looked up at him and he peered into her bright green eyes. “Walk me home?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

* * *

ABBY BLINKED TWICE. Her brain was telling her that she needed to stand up. That they were leaving. But she couldn’t communicate that to her legs. She was frozen in place.

“Abby?” His voice broke through the fog behind her eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Are we leaving?” He removed his hand from hers and she pulled away from him.

“Uh, yeah,” she responded. “Let’s go.” She pushed away from the booth, and Trevor stood, as well. Her cheeks felt hot and his were reddened, too. Her gaze traveled down his front and settled on the impressive bulge behind his zipper, which showed that he was as affected by her as she was by him.

They were silent as they walked to the door. Trevor grabbed their jackets from the backroom and passed Abby hers. When he held the door open for Abby, she stepped outside. The night air had become much chillier since she’d arrived at the club earlier that day, and the small jacket that she had worn over her work clothes had little to no effect in keeping her warm, and, with Trevor weighing on her mind, she hadn’t thought to change into the suit she’d worn that day. Thank God she lived only a couple of blocks from the club and their walk would be a short one. Abby wrapped her jacket even tighter and folded her arms over her breasts.

“It sure is cold,” she muttered through teeth that almost chattered. “I kind of wish we were back in Vegas.”

Trevor’s head whipped around to look at her, and Abby knew that his mind had gone where hers had—to their kiss on the roof of Swerve. She hadn’t meant to mention it, and she often avoided talking about the city at all, lest they think about what could have been that night, if they hadn’t been interrupted, if Abby had let him walk her to her room, if she hadn’t seen him talking to another woman when she’d returned to the party. They thankfully hadn’t gotten a chance to finish the kiss, but it was obvious that the sexual tension still crackled between them, and at the moment, it was still very close to the surface.

She heard Trevor huff out a breath and he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, at least winter is almost over. Spring will be here soon enough.”

Abby’s bare legs had become numb. And Trevor must have caught her shivering because he moved closer to her and placed his arm around her shoulder, drawing her in, providing her with the warmth she needed.

She could feel the soothing heat emanating from him and she felt herself warm instantly. But the rush of heat didn’t just come from Trevor; the flames of arousal were stoked low in her belly and radiated through her. Abby allowed herself to lean into him and closed her eyes from the pleasure. The scent of his spicy cologne did something to her. She inhaled deeply, involuntarily pressing closer into his embrace. She looked up and watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down sharply, as he raggedly swallowed. All she would have to do was lift her head a little and she’d be able to place her lips directly on his pulse point. And she might have, too, if they hadn’t reached her apartment building.

“Here we are,” he announced, removing his arm from her shoulder. She felt the cold air hit her and she immediately mourned the loss of him. He took a deep breath and stepped back. “I’d better go,” he said, as if he was trying to convince himself.

They stood on her stoop, and he made no move to leave. She looked up at him, also not eager to end their evening together quite yet. She knew that she couldn’t be with him, but, at the same time, she wasn’t ready to send him on his way. “Do you want to come upstairs for a bit? We can hang out a little while longer.”

Trevor opened his mouth, but it was several beats before he spoke. He nodded, not taking his eyes from her. “Yeah, sure.”

She unlocked the front door and they walked to the elevator. The sliding doors closed after them and they rode all the way up in complete silence but for the creaks of the rickety machinery, both Abby and Trevor watching the numbers as the elevator climbed past each floor to the tenth. With a ding, the doors separated.

“This way,” Abby told him quietly as she left the elevator and turned right. She didn’t know what would happen when they got to her apartment. She didn’t even know what she wanted to happen. All she knew was that she could feel Trevor walking behind her.

They got to her door and he stood close as she inserted the key into the lock. She walked inside, with him on her tail, and she spun quickly, nearly colliding with the hardness of his chest. And she might have fallen over if he hadn’t reached out, one hand encircling her wrist and his other grasping her hip.

It took her a moment to regain her composure. She cleared her throat loudly, and he pulled away. “Would you like another drink? I’ve got some beer in the fridge, I think.”

“Water’s fine,” he said abruptly, moving away from her. “I don’t think I need any more beer.”

“Yeah, water.” Abby nodded and headed into the kitchen. She needed to get away from him, at least for a moment, to clear her mind without the scent and the pure maleness of him clouding her senses. The cold walk home had sobered her up, but she still couldn’t think straight. Abby stood at the sink and, placing both palms on the counter, took a deep breath. She and Trevor had always had fun hanging out, but sometime during the course of the night the air between them had changed. It had become charged. She grasped her wrist where he had held her to steady her. And she could still feel him, as if he were branded onto her skin.

“Pull it together, Abby,” she muttered to herself. Why was Trevor able to affect her this way? Why was he able to elicit such a reaction—desire—from her, without even trying? Just the feel of his hand on her wrist, his thumb against the point of her rapidly beating pulse, coupled with the intoxicating scent of his cologne, left her with a warm pit of desire low in her belly. Abby reminded herself of her no-relationships pact.





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