Flirting With Fate (24 page)

“Each year WJRK holds a charity masquerade ball on
New Year’s Eve. This year, we’re raising money to support the woman’s shelter,
Almost Home, hoping to raise enough to build a much-needed addition. Sex
Goddess, Inc.’s sponsorship of the event would go a long way to help us get
there.”

Halie nodded. “Very noble, but what about a
personal goal?”

Reese stared at the woman—a model-gorgeous trust-fund
baby with a Bentley and boyfriend who played for the Chicago Bears. Had she
ever had to set a personal goal in her whole life?

“Something totally unrelated to your work. A goal
that
Reese
wants for
Reese
.”

Halie had done this during an interview with Oprah
Winfrey. Question after probing question until Oprah had fat crocodile tears
streaming down her face.
“But who
is
Oprah Winfrey?”

Reese needed a personal goal. Fast. “I’d like to
lose fifteen pounds,” she said, and—remembering Halie’s earlier comment—she
tried to sound like she meant it.

Halie frowned and rubbed the back of her neck.
“This is the problem with our society. Women think their self worth lies in the
size of their jeans or some arbitrary number on the scale.”

“You’re right.” Reese should have seen this
coming. After all, she had the inside track on the Sex Goddess, Inc. founder.
Halie wasn’t going to let her out of the office until she embraced her oversized
rear and declared size fourteen was the new six. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m not
sure what you mean.”

“Wow, your sister was right.”

Maybe inside tracks weren’t all they were chalked
up to be. “My sister?”

“I’m going to be honest with you,” Halie said. “You
know Tricia’s a good friend of mine, and we talk about you sometimes. I want to
help.”

“You
can
help me—by sponsoring this
auction.”

Halie propped her chin on her fist. “When was the
last time you had sex, Reese?”

Wow.
She straightened. The words begging to
fly off her tongue weren’t just colorful, they were DayGlo.
“I’d rather
not discuss this.”

“I’d rather not ignore it,” Halie said. “I’m not
prying, Reese. I’m helping.”

Right
. “I apologize that my sister bothered
you with details from my personal life,” she said, searching the conversation
for the nearest exit.

“There you go with the apologies again. Do you
ever wonder why you do that?”

Reese pushed forward.  “I’m really counting on
your support for the masquerade ball. What can we do to give Sex Goddess, Inc.
the recognition it deserves during the event?”

Halie dropped her hands to the desk and clicked
her nails. “Listen, I’ll sponsor your event.”

The relief that pumped over Reese was better than
sex.

“
But
I didn’t get into this business for
the money.”

Better than sex but just as short-lived.

“I want to help people, and after talking to your
sister, I want to help
you
.” Halie pushed out of her chair. “I don’t
push my program on anyone, but I’d like you to consider it.”

Not a chance, lady.
But she said, “Sure.”

Halie offered her hand.

Reese stood and took it. “Thank you very much,
Halie. This is such a good cause.”

“Think about the program. Think about what
Reese
needs.”

“Of course. I’ll think about it.” The lie was so
monumental, she was surprised God didn’t strike her dead.

“What is there to think about?”

My self-respect? My pride?
She smiled.
“This is just unexpected. May I call you Monday morning?”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Grabbing for her purse, Reese moved toward the
door as fast as she could without running.

“Reese?” Halie’s voice stopped her.

She turned slowly. “Yes?”

Halie handed her an envelope. “The first step is
in there, followed by instructions of how to get the next.”

Eat a bucket of snails, run the miracle mile in
nothing but body glitter, hang from her toenails over a pit of poisonous
vipers—the beginning of a very long list of activities she’d find more
enjoyable than completing Sex Goddess 101.

“It’s your choice,” Halie said, “but imagine how
different your life would be if you believed you were worthy of all you
desire.”

With a sharp nod, Reese shoved the envelope in her
purse and hurried out of the office and toward her car. The only rusted
nineties-model sedan in the lot, it was easy to spot.

“Oh. My. God,” she muttered, collapsing into the
driver’s seat. She yanked her cell phone from her purse and pressed the speed
dial for her best friend.

“Reese! How’d the meeting go?” Mason asked. Her
normal perky voice cracked into the exterior of Reese’s foul mood, but not
enough to change her general sentiment.

“I’m going to
kill
my sister!” She
strangled the steering wheel only because Tricia’s neck wasn’t handy.

Mason laughed. “What’d she do this time? Steal all
your sweats and replace them with silky lingerie?”

“Good guess. Try again.”

“Hmm...She scheduled you for a boob job without
your knowledge?”

“You’re getting warmer.”

“I can’t handle the anticipation.”

Outside her window, Sex Goddess, Inc. headquarters
loomed over her. Taunting. Today should have been easy, but her sister had
turned it into a nightmare. “Apparently, during one of their Girls’ Nights,
Trish took it upon herself to share her concerns about my sex life—”
or lack
thereof
 “—with Halie McCormack, and Halie just used our meeting as an
opportunity to recruit me into her program.”

Silence.

“Mason? Did you hear me?”

“Sex Goddess, Inc. Halie McCormack? As in, the one
who you needed for your most important project of the year?”

“Bingo.” Reese growled and squeezed the steering
wheel. “I’m mortified.”

“No kidding.” Masey paused a beat. “So, are you
gonna do it?”

Reese snorted. “Have you seen any pigs fly past
your window today?”

Ben had Reese Regan on the brain. Which would be
acceptable, considering she was his best friend, but the Reese in his mind was
naked, moaning, and clawing at his back as he slid inside her.

“Hey, Ben, you gonna play?” Luke called from the
pool table at the PitStop. His friend, also the bar’s owner, plopped the last
balls into the rack.

“Of course.” Ben lined up his shot and made a
weak-ass break.

Luke raised an eyebrow.

How could Ben not be distracted with Reese on his
mind? They’d met at his house for a workout this morning, like they always did,
and she’d smelled so damn sweet, all lavender shampoo and flowery lotion. Who
the hell smelled that good for a workout? “Damn it.”

“I’d say,” Luke agreed, surveying the table.

A plan. Anything was possible with a plan. Ben
just needed to remind himself why entertaining these fantasies was a disaster
waiting to happen.

The three ball spun into the corner pocket and
clunked home. “Solids,” Luke called.

That was easy enough. First, there was—

“Where’s Reese tonight anyway?” Luke sunk another
two balls. “I thought she was joining us.”

“She said she’d be late. She had a meeting with
that Sex Goddess, Inc. lady.”

Luke overshot, sending the cue ball in after the
seven. He blinked at Ben. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. But not what you think. Sex Goddess,
Inc. is sponsoring something for the station.” Ben positioned the cue ball and
aimed for a stripe on the opposite side of the table.
Clunk.
He still
had it. He lined up another shot and thought carefully.

Reason One: Six years after he’d first decided to
keep things platonic, nothing had changed. Sex would mean something entirely
different to Reese than it would to him. He sank another ball. She’d be
thinking of wedding dresses and picket fences while he’d be thinking of hot
bodies, sweat-slicked skin. All she’d want was commitment and all he’d want was
to feel himself buried inside her.

“I’m going gray here,” Luke complained.

“Cool your heels,” Ben studied the table,
considering his strategy.

Reason Two: Reese was his best friend, and he had
years of good behavior under his belt. He wasn’t going to ruin what they had
just because she smelled like heaven on a stick and had an ass that made him
want to weep.

He lined up another shot and watched, satisfied,
as it rolled home.

He was cleaning the table when the bell jangled at
the front of the bar.

The air filled with hoots of “Hawk! Hawk!”

“Hawk! Back here,” Luke called.

Six foot five, two-twenty, Mark Hawk—tall, dark,
and shallow—winked at a girl at the bar, pinched the ass of another, and gave a
couple high-fives as he sauntered toward them.

Mark attracted all eyes. Women wanted to be with
him, men wanted to be him. Ben wanted to punch him in the face and put him on
the fast track to Getoveryourselfville.

“How are Chicago’s favorite losers?” Mark asked
when he made it to them.

“Good,” Ben said. “How’s Chicago’s favorite
asshole?”

Mark grinned. “Over sexed, over fed, and over
paid. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He glanced around. “What are we
drinking tonight?”

Mark Hawk, ladies and gentlemen. Highest paid
morning drive-time radio host in the Midwest, and still the cheapest
son-of-a-bitch around
.

“We’ve got a pitcher over there.” Luke waved to
the four-top by the pool table. “Help yourself.” Luke typically let them drink
for free at his bar, but tonight Mark’s assumption dug under Ben’s skin.

“Is it just us guys tonight?” Mark asked, pouring
himself a beer.

“Reese is at Sex Goddess, Inc.,” Luke said with a
meaningful wriggle of his brow. “She’ll join us later.”

Mark gaped, so Ben tossed him a bone. “For the
masquerade ball.”
Which you’d know if you ever listened to anyone but
yourself
. When Mark still blinked in confusion, Ben took pity on him, “Sex
Goddess, Inc. might sponsor WJRK’s Charity Masquerade Ball.”

“Reese Regan? At Sex Goddess, Inc.?” Grinning,
Mark shoved his fingers in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Good girl
turns bad. Why do I like the sound of that so much?”

Ben gritted his teeth. “Because you’re a shallow
fuck.”

Mark chuckled and raised his glass to Ben before
taking a long drink.

The testosterone around the pool table shifted
focus as a tiny blonde wandered over from the bar. She wore tight jeans and a
tank that claimed she was TEAM EDWARD-AND
-
JACOB SANDWICH.

Mark took her in—big blond hair, tight clothes,
strappy heels.

“Are you the Hawk?” The blonde gave Mark a
shameless once-over.

“Who wants to know?” Mark asked.

The blonde giggled and flipped her hair. “
I
do.”

Raking his gaze over her, Mark made an
appreciative sound at the back of his throat. The blonde stuck her chest out a
little more in response. “Sweet thing, you’d make a weaker man drop to his
knees.”

“Maybe you’re not as strong as you think.” Braver
now, the blonde crooked her finger through Mark’s belt loop and tugged him
toward her. “Let me buy you a drink?”

The smile on Mark’s face grew his gaze shifted to
someone else. He took a step back, plucking the blonde’s hands off his clothes.

Ben swiveled his attention to see Reese. Wavy
locks of dark hair had escaped the clip at the back of her neck. Her skirt suit
hid every curve Ben had been trying to forget, and when she found their group
she immediately locked eyes with Mark, staring at him like a star-struck
fangirl.

Mark winked at Reese over the blonde’s head. “Can’t
do it,” he said to the blonde. “The sweetest, most beautiful girl in the city
just walked in the door.”

Reese’s cheeks grew red and that insecure
half-smile tugged at her mouth. Mark abandoned the blonde and extended his hand
for Reese, who sunk her teeth into her bottom lip.

Ben turned away, lava churning in his gut. He
couldn’t watch this shit. Reese desperately smitten by Mark. Mark leading her
on every chance he got.

Mark wrapped his arms around Reese’s shoulders.
“Seeing you always makes me smile.”

“Said the spider to the fly,” Ben grumbled.

 “You gonna take that shot or not?” Luke asked,
sizing up the table.

Ben sighed. “Eight ball, corner pocket.” No need
to brainstorm more reasons to keep his Reese-related thoughts in-check, not
while Reese stood so close making eyes at Reason Three.

“How’s the beer treating you?” Reese dropped her
purse on their table and came around to stand by Ben. Her hip brushed his and
she grinned at him. Ben tensed, side-stepping to put some space between their
bodies.

As he narrowed his eyes to line up the shot, Reese
closed the distance between them again, oblivious. Ben drew back his stick. As
he took the shot, she whispered, “If Mark keeps eyeing me like that, he’s going
to trick me into thinking a girl like me could actually stand a chance.”

The black ball rolled toward the corner pocket
then ricocheted. Ben winced.

Reason Three: Only a masochist would go after a
girl who wanted his brother.

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