Элла Франк - Entice

“Yes. I can see that,” she almost purred.

Josh felt her voice skate up along his spine. Oh, holy shit, this is not good.

He was not in the market for upper class and high maintenance. He wanted middle class and low maintenance. However, as Dr. Monroe ran her incredible eyes over his body, he felt all the blood in his brain disappearing quickly. Trying to stop the inevitable, he held out his hand to her. She looked down at it, and then reached forward with her own, sliding it gently against his. Her eyes moved up from their joined palms to meet his again as she bit her bottom lip slowly and continued with a grin.

“Not an ounce of fat either,” Shelly whispered seductively.

Beside him, Mason cleared his throat with a small laugh and shook his head. “Okay, Shel, leave the poor man alone.”

Letting go of his hand, she shrugged, turning back to her friend. She must’ve done something when she faced her because Lena let out a small giggle, and Mason sighed. Josh turned to find Mason shaking his head.

“Ignore them. Most of the time, they act like they’re in high school instead of behaving like two of the smartest women I’ve ever met.”

Josh nodded silently, still trying to work out what had just happened.

Shelly turned on her heel to face Lena, who was looking at her with a giant smirk. When she arched a brow and mouthed “no,” it sent her friend into a fit of giggles. Rolling her eyes, Shelly sat down and reached for her drink.

Delicious. That’d been the first word that came to mind when she’d seen him. The second had been a very loud no. No way was she going to get herself involved with a man like that. He was everything she swore she’d never go back to.

Wearing worn jeans with a rip across the knee, he had big broad shoulders that looked so strong and powerful he could possibly lift her above his head in a bench press. Add in all that amazing wavy brown hair that was just long enough to come down and curl behind his ears, she thought, Crap, I’m screwed.

Sitting very still and sipping her margarita, Shelly continued to discreetly watch him as he walked around the table with Mason. Even the way he walked was sexy. She closed her eyes, letting out a small groan.

“Something wrong, Shelly?”

Her eyes snapped open, and she glared across to her friend, who was now grinning with pure glee. Shelly decided right then that if she could’ve reached she would have kicked Lena right in the shin. She was about to respond when her phone buzzed. Looking down, she turned it over and noticed a text message from Lena.

Lena: You’ve seen him. So?

Shelly raised her eyes to see Lena had turned to face Mason and Josh, pretending to listen to their conversation. Sneaky little shit.

Hitting reply, Shelly lied.

Nope, not my type. You know me—suits and ties all the way.

Shelly put the phone back on the table, watching as Lena looked down at hers when it buzzed. As Lena arched her brow and typed back, acting like they actually were the teenagers Mason had accused them of, Shelly looked at the two men who were now discussing what sounded like a job proposal.

 Mason caught her eye and winked while Josh reached forward for his glass. With an arched brow Mason cocked his head toward his friend in a so-what-do-you-think kind of way.

Shelly rolled her eyes, shaking her head, when Josh sat back up. Mason’s eyes went right back to his friend like he hadn’t been doing anything mischievous. Another sneaky little shit.

He and Lena deserved one another.

Again, her phone buzzed. Looking across to Lena, who was once again pretending to pay attention to the boring man conversation, Shelly picked up her phone. She’d just taken a sip of her drink when she looked down and read.

Lena: Corporate’s not fixing the issue. Time to hire a handyman to flush out the plumbing.

That’s when Shelly sputtered on Lena’s Margarita, almost choking.

“You okay over there?” Shelly heard Mason ask.

Glancing up, Shelly saw Lena grab her drink, grinning as she took a sip. Looking back to Mason and Mr. Delicious, Shelly smiled slightly.

“Yeah, just went down the wrong pipe,” she stressed, noticing Lena pick up on the pun.

Shelly was about to say something else when the double doors behind her whooshed open, and Rachel squealed. Looking over her shoulder, Shelly watched as the currently purple-haired pastry chef zeroed in on Josh—aka Mr. Delicious Handyman.

“Joshua Daniels! Oh my god! You are even hotter now than you were back in high school!”

Hot, he definitely is, Shelly agreed.

Shelly turned to watch Josh stand, and then he pulled out his biggest weapon of all. Across his face slid a smile so slow and so sexy, it could’ve dropped a woman’s panties in five seconds flat—hers in particular.

 Rachel ran across the room, launching herself at him in a huge hug. Shelly watched those powerful arms wrap around Rachel, and for the second time that night, she thought, I’m screwed.

Tuesday morning rolled around, and Shelly was relieved when she noticed she was alone. Sometime during the night, she’d had a fantastic dream where she’d cornered Delicious Daniels and dragged him home to her bed. She was thrilled to discover that was not in fact reality.

She’d made it through the rest of the dinner last night with what little dignity she could find after almost choking on her drink. Then, she’d hightailed it out of there.

Today was her day off, and she planned to make the most of it. She was looking forward to getting her hair cut, her nails buffed, and her feet massaged—pretty much reveling in a full day of pure self-indulgence. She always made sure to treat herself once a month. After all, why shouldn’t I enjoy something for myself when I’ve worked so damn hard?

Grabbing the juice from the refrigerator, she poured herself a glass and started thinking about her father. He was the kind of man who would always go out of his way to make her feel as though anything remotely relating to self-indulgence was a waste of money and a “female thing.”

In her father’s mind, she’d committed two major sins. First, she’d been born a girl, not the anticipated boy. This had been a major disappointment to her father, and it was completely her fault, of course—as if she actually had a say in the matter. Second, she’d chosen not to become a surgeon like him. Instead, she chose to specialize in a less-demanding field in case there ever came a point in time where she wanted to maybe—and this was a huge maybe—take some time to start a family.

And that was all just the tip of the iceberg. Shelly sighed as she sipped her juice, wondering how he had the ability to aggravate the shit out of her even when he was hundreds of miles away.

Pushing him aside, she started to think of more pleasurable things—like Mason Langley’s fine-looking friend. It was true. She didn’t want to get involved with a man like him—meaning a man who moved from state to state for a contract job, essentially being a man with no stability. A man who by all means could have her on her knees in ten seconds flat if he knew her weakness.

However, he was also the exact man she was drawn to. For some reason, her screwed-up DNA had decided that her girly parts would get tingly whenever a man dressed in ripped-across-the-ass jeans came along.

It isn’t fair, Shelly thought as she lifted the glass to her lips. All she wanted was a predictable man who went to a boring Monday-through-Friday job in a boring suit with a boring everyday personality.

That, however, was not the case. She was attracted to the kind of man who was likely to pound her into her bed, floor, or couch, and then roll off, walk out the door, and leave the state. What the hell is the matter with me? She knew from past experience that relationships based solely on instant attraction never ended well.

Placing her glass in the sink, she made her way down the hall to the bathroom, and then stopped in front of the mirror to glare at herself. Reaching up, she held her hair back from her face.

Maybe I should just chop it off? Be more serious—less girly. She turned her head to the left, and then came back to face forward. Nah, who am I kidding? The men love it! It is a female thing.

Josh woke the next morning to a warm, wet tongue licking his cheek.

Cracking an eye, he saw his six-year-old German Shepherd, Mutley, sitting on his haunches next to his bed. His long snout was resting on the mattress, and his big brown eyes were focused directly on his.

“Need to go out, boy?” he asked as though the dog would actually answer.

Mutley whined and wagged his tail where he sat, making his big body twitch from side to side. Reaching out to scratch the dog’s head, Josh yawned and pulled back the covers. Swinging his legs over the side, he winced when his feet hit the cold hardwood floor. Cold-ass Chicago.

Moving toward the sliding glass doors that led to the backyard, he unlatched it and pushed it open. Mutley dashed outside to relieve himself, probably cursing him for oversleeping. Josh looked out at the hot tub that was half-installed off to the left of the deck. Another project he’d decided would be a challenge when he’d relocated here, north of the city in Evanston. It was still unfinished and untouched, waiting for him to take up the challenge. His hand scratching over his stomach, he rolled his head side to side, stretching out his neck.