The Infatuation (Josh and Kat #1 , The Club #5) (29 page)

“Kat?” Sarah says.

“Sorry,” I say. “Got distracted.”

Sarah gives me a document and asks me to scour it
for any references to international money transfers.

“Sure thing,” I say. But the words on the page are
beginning to blur. My head is bobbing on my neck like I’m a drowsy
truck driver. I didn’t even study this hard in college, for crying
out loud.

For the hundredth time tonight, I glance over at
Josh across the room. He’s engaged in an animated conversation with
Jonas about... What the heck are those two jabbering about now?—I
strain to listen over the music on Sarah’s laptop—oh, which NFL
quarterback is the greatest of all time. Well, that’s an easy one:
Joe Montana
. Everyone knows that. Duh. Surely, my dad, mom,
and three out of four of my brothers would say the same thing.

“It’s a no-brainer,” Josh says. “
Joe
Montana
.”

I smile broadly to myself. Josh would fit right in
with my family.

“That’s the conventional answer,” Jonas says. “But
I’d argue Peyton Manning has recently overtaken the top spot.”

I roll my eyes. Well, that’s plain ridiculous.

“No way,” Josh says from across the room. “That’s
fucking ridiculous.”

I smile to myself again. Great minds think
alike.

Jonas keeps arguing his (ridiculous) position until,
suddenly, without warning, Josh reaches up, midsentence, and flicks
Jonas’ forehead with his index finger.

Jonas abruptly stops talking and puts his hand on
his forehead. “
Ow
.”

For a short beat, it’s not clear if Jonas is gonna
throttle Josh or laugh uncontrollably, but then Jonas’ features
contort into unmistakable amusement and he lets out a belly laugh,
causing Josh to burst out laughing, too. All tension averted, Josh
leans back, spreads his legs, and shifts his dick in his pants.

“Dumbshit,” Josh mutters, shaking his head.

Jonas chuckles.

“
Peyton Manning
.”

“Sorry,” Jonas says, still laughing.

“You should be, bro—you fucking should be.”

The boys laugh together a bit more and then finally
refocus their attention on Jonas’ laptop.

My jaw is hanging open.

My chest is tight.

My pulse is pounding in my ears.

I can’t take my eyes off Josh, though all he’s doing
is staring at a laptop.

Audra Mae is singing from Sarah’s laptop into my
ear, and suddenly, I realize her lyrics were written for me—for
this moment.
I want Josh.
And I’m coming for him, just like
Audra Mae is coming for her man in the song.

Josh had better watch the fuck out.

Forget what I said about wanting to take a break
from our battle to the death. That was before this moment—before
Josh correctly named Joe Montana as the all-time best NFL
quarterback of all time. Before Josh defended his (correct)
position with a perfectly timed forehead-flick, expertly diffusing
potential tension with humor. Before he shifted his donkey-dick in
his pants for the umpteenth time, making my crotch burn and my
pulse race. Before Audra Mae and the Almighty Sound entered the
room and belted out my own feelings into my ear. And, most of all,
that was before Josh Faraday paid some ungodly amount of money to
my boss so I can continue saving the world here in Las Vegas with
him
and
keep my job in Seattle, too. “
And speaking for
myself personally, I have no desire to save the world without my
Party Girl with a Hyphen by my side
,” Josh said. Holy hell, I
get goose bumps just thinking about him saying those words to
me.

I want him. I want him. I want him.

And not just sexually, either—I’m way past simply
wanting to bang Josh now (though God knows I want to bang him more
than I want to breathe). I want Josh to be
mine
—in every
conceivable way. I want his body. I want his heart. I want his
soul.
And, goddammit, I want his secrets, too.

Josh says I’ve been demanding something from him
that I can’t or won’t give him in return? Well, he’s got a point
about that, actually. But what if I
did
unexpectedly have
something to give him in return for his secrets? What if I had
secrets of my own to give him—and what if I turned the tables on
him and gave them to him
first
?

“
If I had an application, I’d give it to
you
,” I told Josh last night outside my room after the
Henn-kissing debacle.

“
Easy for you to say
,” Josh replied. “
You
don’t have one
.”

But what if I
did
? That would change
everything, wouldn’t it?

“Hey, Sarah,” I whisper, leaning into her
shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“Do you happen to have a copy of an old Club
application lying around?”

Sarah pauses what she’s doing and looks up. “Um. No,
all the applications I had were on my laptop that got stolen.”

“And Henn hasn’t been able to access member
applications yet?”

“Not yet.” She puts down the document she’s reading
with sudden emphasis and looks at me like I’ve suggested we try to
sneak up on the President of the United States and give him a
wedgie. “Katherine Morgan, even if we
could
get our hands on
Josh’s application, you absolutely can’t read it without his
permission.”

I roll my eyes. “I know that. Jeez. Gimme some
credit.”

Sarah’s looking at me like she doesn’t buy a word of
my bullshit.

I pause. “Okay, yes, I’d read that effing
application in a heartbeat if I could get my grubby little hands on
it,” I say.

Sarah laughs. “I know.”

“But I’m not trying to get Josh’s application
through Henn—I wanna get it directly from Josh. And to do that, I
need to see the questions he answered—the questions everyone
answers when applying to The Club.”

Sarah presses her lips together. “Why?”

I ignore her question. “Do you remember the
questions?”

“They’re burned into my gray matter for eternity.
Why
do you want them?”

“Would you email them to me, exactly the way they’re
worded on a standard application?”

Sarah smirks. “Are you by any chance planning to
write
answers
to these questions, my dearest friend?”

A smile spreads across my face. “Why, yes, that is
the plan, my lovely, darling friend.”

“Oh my, my, my. Are you gonna apply to the
Josh
Faraday Club,
by any chance?” She shoots me a naughty
smile.

“Ooooh, I like that, Sarah. Why,
yes
, I do
believe I am,” I say slowly, my skin tingling.

“Did Josh
ask
you to apply to his club?”

“No. He has no idea. This is gonna be a surprise—or
more like a
blindside
.” I glance furtively across the room
at Josh. He and Jonas are chatting calmly about something on Jonas’
laptop. “This is gonna be a diabolical tactic to get two suicide
bombers to finally lay down their bombs and make nice—very, very
nice.
”

“Well, I’m sure it’ll work like gangbusters. The day
Kat Morgan can’t get a man to bend to her mighty will, the rest of
us might as well crawl into bunkers and await the End of Days.”

“I’m not so sure this time, to be honest. Josh is
the hardest nut to crack I’ve ever encountered. The Most Stubborn
Man in the World.”

“So he’s the male version of you, then?”

I nod slowly, not taking my eyes off Josh across the
room.

Sarah laughs. “Well, that’s a scary combination.
Definitely sounds
explosive.
”

“That’s what we are—even against our mutual
interests.” I begin to say something more but wind up yawning,
instead.

“Aw, honey, you better get some sleep,” Sarah says.
“You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“Yeah, I’m about to fall over.”

I get up and stretch.

“Oh, are you heading out, Kat?” Josh asks, his head
whipping up from his work.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’ve gotta get some sleep—I’m about
to crash and burn.”

“I’ll walk you to your room. Hold on just a sec.” He
turns to confer with Jonas about something.

“Enjoy getting blown to bits, girl,” Sarah whispers.
“
Ka-boom
.”

“Nah. There are no explosions on the agenda
tonight,” I say. “Tonight, I’m gonna get good and rested so I can
write my application to The Josh Faraday Club first thing
tomorrow.”

Sarah smiles at me suggestively. “I’ll send you
those questions ASAP.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it. I’m gonna start working on
my ‘application’ the minute I wake up.”

Sarah doesn’t reply. Something across the room has
grabbed her attention. I glance across the room. Oh. Correction.
Someone
has grabbed Sarah’s attention. Oh my, that’s quite a
look Jonas is giving Sarah right now—it’s downright primal.

“I’ll send those questions to you as soon as I can,
Kitty Kat,” Sarah says absently, not taking her eyes off her
smoldering boyfriend. “Something tells me my hunky monkey boyfriend
is gonna distract me from writing those questions for you for at
least the next few hours.”

Josh

My phone beeps with an incoming text, waking me from
a dead sleep. Jesus. Is it night or day? My body clock is totally
fucked up.

I grab my phone and check the screen with one eye.
Shit.
Jennifer LeMonde
.

“Hey, Josh,” Jen’s text says. “I’m still waiting on
that phone call you promised me. I’m available now.”

Fuck. When I sprinted back into Reed’s suite the
other night to grab my clothes and Kat’s stuff, I practically
bowled Jen over.

“Did you really say all that stuff about me?” Jen
asked, marching behind me in a huff as I grabbed my clothes off a
nearby lounge chair. “You think I’m an ‘airhead’?”

“No, I don’t think you’re an airhead,” I said, even
though I think she’s an airhead. “I’m sorry, Jen,” I continued.
“I’d love to explain everything to you, but I’ve gotta run right
now. I’ll call you later. I never called you an airhead, I swear.
Kat put words into my mouth.”

“Wait,” Jen said as I gathered my clothes up,
frantic about where Kat might have stumbled off to with no shoes,
purse or phone, wandering around all by herself in a fucking casino
at the break of dawn. “I need to talk to you.”

“I’ll call you later, Jen. I promise,” I said. “But
right now I gotta go.”

“Do you promise to call me?” Jen asked.

“Yeah.”

And then I promptly didn’t call her. Because I’ve
been busy. And obsessed with Kat. And because... I’m... a dick.

Fuck.

I press the button to place a call to Jen, despite
the fact that every fiber in my body revolts against the idea.

She picks up immediately. “Hi,” Jen says stiffly.
“So nice to finally hear from you.”

“Hi, Jen,” I say. “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.
I’ve been really busy.”

“Mmm hmm. You still in Vegas?”

“Yeah. You?”

“I’m at the airport now. Heading to New York. My
mom’s got a show opening tomorrow night.”

“You mean on Broadway?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know your mom did live theatre.”

“She doesn’t. This is her first time. She’s shitting
a brick.”

“Well, I hope she breaks a leg. How was the RCR
concert the other night?”

“Great.” She exhales. “So did you say all that stuff
about me or not?”

“No.”

“None of it?”

“Well, I said we had meaningless sex, which we did,
as I’m sure you’ll agree.” I pause, waiting for her to agree, but
she doesn’t. “Jen,” I continue, flustered, “Kat knew I was with you
in New York when she said all that shit. She was just mind-fucking
you for the purpose of fucking with me.”

There’s a beat.

“Well, then, she’s an even bigger bitch than I
thought,” Jen says coldly.

“Yeah, she tore you a new one, for sure. I’m sorry
about that. Kat can be pretty intense. She was just jealous.”

“Why’d you tell her about our night in New York in
the first place? I take it you didn’t just meet her in Las
Vegas?”

“Yeah, I met her before.”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“No, she’s not my girlfriend. It’s kinda hard to
explain what she is.”

Jen snickers. “Well, it’s interesting you told her
about me. That wasn’t very nice of you.” I can hear her smiling
across the phone line. “No wonder she was jealous.”

Shit. This is totally backfiring on me.

Jen’s voice shifts into full flirt mode. “So, hey,
enough about The Jealous Bitch. Why don’t you come to New York with
me? I’ll take you to the premier of my mom’s show and to the
after-party and—”

I take a deep breath. “Jen, no. That’s what I’m
calling to tell you. I thought we were on the same page last week
in New York—both of us just having some meaningless, drunken fun.
I’m sorry if you were up for something different than that.” I
clear my throat, suddenly extremely uncomfortable. “I should have
been clearer with you, Jen. I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m
sorry if I... misled you.”

Oh my God. I’m suddenly realizing something: Kat
might have had a point the other night when she called me a douche.
It’s distinctly possible I didn’t make my intentions clear enough
to Jen last week—even though I could plainly see the girl was way
more into me than any casual hook-up ought to be. And, if I’m
really digging deep into the honesty bin, I probably left things
way too open-ended with Jen, just like Kat said I did, simply
because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings... or... actually,
because I didn’t want to deal with her feelings at all.

“Josh,” Jen says. “I’m not looking for anything
deep
from you. Let’s just hang out and see if—”

My phone buzzes with an incoming text and I pull
back to see who it’s from.

“
I hit the motherlode,
” Henn writes. “
All
hands on deck!
”