Betting on Bailey (Menage MfM Romance Novel) (Playing For Love Book 1) (6 page)

W
hen Sebastian had spoken
those words to me, I had gaped at him, unable to think of a witty repartee. I still cannot.

But I wonder about his words all weekend. What did he mean by
we
? It wasn’t an expression of interest, was it? And if it was, did he really mean both of them wanted me?

Trevor was my third lover. My first was nothing to write home about - a fumbling encounter in Kevin McNamara’s bedroom before his parents got back from work. After that first brief moment of pain, I remember lying back and wondering why people made such a fuss about sex. It was okay, but hardly life-changing.

So I stayed away from boys, much to the delight of my parents, and I focused on my studies. I graduated college with straight A’s, and started my Masters degree immediately after. In my early twenties, all my energy and focus had been on my research.

Things had been better with Ivan in the Taiga. It had been a relationship that had been based on sexual attraction rather than any real underlying compatibility. It hadn’t mattered - we never had a future. Ivan was interested in hunting, fishing and in surviving the harshness of Siberia. I was on the cusp of getting my PhD, and I couldn’t see myself staying in Russia past my research year. When it was time for me to leave, we ended things amicably and without sadness.

The pendulum had swung the other way with Trevor. On paper, he had seemed like the right guy, but our sex life had been pretty dismal.

Which brings me to Daniel and Sebastian. They are two of the hottest guys I’ve seen in a long time, guys whose sex appeal exudes off them in powerful waves. Guys who make my body tighten with longing.

You must have misunderstood them, Bailey,
I tell myself.
Guys like that aren’t interested in you.
In many parts of the world, men are attracted to curvy women, but North America isn’t one of them. Here, men who look more like gods don’t date chubby girls. They date supermodels.

But they’d been nice. When Daniel had smiled at me, the warmth and sincerity were hard to disguise. When Sebastian had grinned conspiratorially at me, I’d felt included. I’d wanted to belong in their little charmed circle.

Gabby’s the only one of us who’s been with more than one person at the same time. In March, she met two men at a bar, and she’d gone to their hotel room.
Best sex I’ve ever had,
she said dreamily, when she told us. Even now, two months after the fact, I know she can’t forget that one-night stand.

I wonder what it would be like to be with both Sebastian and Daniel. Two men, one with chocolate-brown eyes, the other with eyes that remind me of the ocean. Two strong bodies. For an instant, I close my eyes and allow myself to imagine what it would feel like to be sandwiched between them, engulfed in their heat. Four hands would caress every inch of my body. Two mouths would pleasure me. Two sets of eyes would look at me, heavy with lust.

Yeah. That’s going to happen. Get your head out of your ass, Bailey Moore.

“
L
evel with me
, Bailey. You’re attracted to them, aren’t you?”

I’m having lunch with Gabby Monday afternoon at a small Italian bistro overlooking Washington Square park. The Thursday Night Drinking Pack couldn’t meet this evening. Katie’s husband Adam is out of town and she can’t find a sitter for the twins. Piper’s bowed out as well, and Wendy’s texted us that she’s going to be working late. Since that just left Gabby and me, we decided to take advantage of the lovely spring day and meet for lunch instead.

There’s a mountain of corrections at my desk that I’m playing hooky from. My colleagues in the science world can test their undergraduates with multiple-choice questions. I have no such luck. In Cultural Anthropology 101 at NYU, the students write essays. Five 25-page essays per student per semester, essays that need to be read and corrected -
by me.

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, you didn’t,” she agrees with a grin. “However, you have spent the last five minutes talking about how kind they were. How nice. And when I asked what they looked like, you went bright red.” She winks at me. “Also, your nipples are hard.”

“They are not.” I look down automatically, and her chuckle turns into a full-throated laugh. “Damn it, Gabby. Maybe I’m just attracted to you.”

She’s not fazed. “Sorry, dollface, you aren’t my type.”

“Dollface?”

She shrugs. “Someone I know speaks like that,” she says vaguely. “Stop changing the subject. Talk to me about Daniel and Sebastian. Which one do you want?”

If she thought I was blushing earlier, I wonder what she thinks of my coloring now. “It doesn’t matter,” I mutter. “It’s not all about what I want. They have to want me, and that’s not going to happen.”

“Hang on.” She leans forward, her pasta primavera forgotten. “You didn’t say Daniel had to want you. Or Sebastian had to want you. You said
they
.”

I can’t keep the defensiveness out of my voice. “It doesn’t matter,” I repeat. “My fantasies don’t count.”

“So you have been fantasizing about them?”

“A little bit,” I confess, lying only a little. I’ve been fantasizing
a lot.
“Does that make me weird? I mean, shouldn’t I be fantasizing about the perfect white dress, a house in the ‘burbs and two-point-five children instead?”

Gabby shakes her head. “You are an adventurer, Bails. Why on earth would your fantasies be conventional? You love to explore. You need someone that can keep up with that.” She giggles. “Or two someones.” She sips her iced tea. After a pause, she adds, “I could never understand why you dated Trevor. He was stodgy. And more than that, he wasn’t nice.”

She’s right, but Trevor’s not what I want to focus on right now. “Daniel and Sebastian
were
nice,” I say aloud. “I mean, they offered to teach me how to play pool, and they didn’t have to do that. But come on, Gabby. I barely know them.”

She rolls her eyes. “As if knowing someone is a prerequisite to good sex,” she quips dryly.

Gabby might like to pretend that she’s the queen of casual hookups, but I know better. Her desire to keep things superficial with the men she dates isn’t because she doesn’t want something more lasting. Rather, it’s because a succession of absolutely vile men have broken her heart, and she’s formed a shell to protect herself.

“It is for me,” I reply. “I don’t have to fall in love with them, you know? I don’t walk around with stars in my eyes. But I think I have to like them before I sleep with them.”

Is that a lie? Had I ever actually
liked
Trevor? He’d taken me to fancy restaurants and he’d bought me flowers and I’d become smitten because I wasn’t used to being wooed. The luster had, however, faded fast.

“So Google them,” she suggests. “Talk to them, get to know them.”

She makes it sound so easy. “Would you do it again?” I ask her. “Your threesome, I mean.” I don’t know why I’m talking about this. Perhaps I need to say the word
threesome
out aloud, as if hearing the words spoken would snap me out of my crazy thoughts.

“I don’t do relationships, Bailey,” she responds quietly. “Not anymore. But,” she continues, “if I did, I would. Absolutely.” A wistful look crosses her face. “They were so good. For the space of one evening, I was the most treasured person in the world. They were very… attentive.”

It’s my turn to laugh at her. “Who’s getting all hot and bothered now?” I tease. “Sorry, dollface. You’re not my type.”

She shakes her head with a smile, but not before I catch a fleeting glimpse of the look of regret in her eyes. “Here’s my advice, Bailey, whether you want it or not. Everyone’s a consenting adult. If they are interested, then what’s the harm in something casual?”

“It’s only a fantasy, Gabby. Just because I have naughty thoughts about Daniel and Sebastian, it doesn’t mean they’ll come true. I’m not married to Brad Pitt, am I?”

She laughs. “Brad Pitt isn’t playing pool with you every week. Daniel and Sebastian are. It seems to me that you have an opportunity to make things happen.”

“I’m leaving for Argentina in the fall,” I respond.

“So what? I’m not suggesting a relationship, just some good sex to make up for the drought. The pool league isn’t a long-term commitment, is it?”

She’s right. Once this season is over, I won’t see my teammates again. A casual fling with Sebastian and Daniel will have a built-in shelf life, the same way my relationship with Ivan did. I was able to survive my breakup with Ivan unscathed, and I’m sure things would be similar with Daniel and Sebastian.

I’m sure of it.

Really sure.

Okay, I might be trying to convince myself. I can close my eyes right now and picture both of them in crystal-clear detail. I remember every word of our brief conversation. Thinking about the look of intent in their eyes, my skin erupts in goosebumps. I never had such a reaction to Ivan.

When it comes to my personal life, I’m extremely good at ignoring the obvious. “You are right,” I tell Gabby. “I’m done with the pool league in July, and I leave for Patagonia at the end of August. This might be a really good idea.”

I
t’s Wednesday
. I’ve been working all week at
Seb New York
with Ben, and it’s been exhausting. The guy doesn’t pay attention, he can’t see problems starting to form, and he can’t get production out of the line chefs. The kitchen, normally a smoothly functioning machine, is struggling to cope with his waffling and his indecisiveness.

God, I miss Helen. I call to tell her that on Saturday night, after a grueling shift in the kitchen, and she snickers. “I should ask for a raise, Chef,” she jokes.

“It’s yours,” I tell her sincerely. “I didn’t realize how good I had it with you. How are you making out with your clowns?”

“They aren’t that bad,” she replies. “Just needed a little whipping into shape. Some of them thought a woman couldn’t lead a kitchen.” She snorts. “I corrected that impression.”

Helen stands five feet tall, and weighs ninety pounds soaking wet. Still, I feel sorry for the idiots who dared to even hint that she didn’t belong. Helen can kick ass with the best of them. “The fools.” The phone chimes in my ear. Another call’s coming through. “Hey, Helen, I have to go. I’ll call you back over the weekend.”

Juliette’s on the other line. I pick up the call. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Sebastian,” she says, her voice urgent and slightly irritated. “Where have you been? I’ve left you a couple of messages today. Don’t you check your texts?”

“I work in a kitchen, Juliette,” I point out. “I’m hardly going to be fiddling with my phone when food’s about to burn on the stove. What’s going on?”

“A couple of the franchise deal investors are in town tonight, and they want to meet you at
Seb New York
,” she says. “Can you skip pool so they can meet you?”

I think of Bailey. I’ve been looking forward to this evening all week long. In the shower, I’ve closed my eyes and imagined her slick, wet body next to mine. Her eyes had widened when I’d hinted we were interested, and her breathing had caught. She’d definitely picked up on the signal.

I can’t wait to see where this evening might go. It’s been years since I’ve felt this kind of anticipation for a woman. Juliette’s franchise opportunity pales in comparison. “Sorry,” I tell her. “I can’t. I’m busy tonight.”

“Sebastian, this is really important. We just need thirty minutes. What if I can get them there in an hour?”

I’m leaving in twenty minutes to head to the Maxwell Club, where Daniel and I are teaching Bailey how to play pool. Then again, the franchise deal is important, isn’t it? For so many years, I’ve dreamed about showing everyone in Mississippi that I defied their expectations and made something of myself. What’s a pool lesson in comparison?

My phone buzzes. It’s a text message from Daniel.
Leaving work now,
it says.
See you in thirty minutes?

I make my decision. “No can do, Juliette,” I tell her, my voice steady. “I’m far too busy running my restaurants for last-minute meetings. Next time, give me a little more heads-up. ”

There’s a long pause, then she clears her throat meaningfully. “Running your restaurants?” Her voice has a hint of suspicion in it. “Is that the real reason you can’t meet us today?”

“What are you saying, Juliette?”

Her voice is curt. “The window of opportunity is small, Sebastian. We may never get another chance like this. Our entire focus should be on this deal.”

“
Seb New York
and
Seb II
are always going to come first. You have to know that.”

“Make time for this, Sebastian,” she says. “Else this might slip through your fingers.” She sighs. “I’ll look through your calendar and arrange another time. Oh, tell Clark I’m going to be really late. I need to take these guys out for drinks first.”

“Stay away from
Seb New York
,” I warn her. “Ben’s not ready for prime time yet.”

As I get ready to leave, I dwell on my warped sense of priorities. I should have blown off Daniel and Bailey, and met with the investors, but I don’t want to. The only place I want to be this evening is at Maxwell Club, helping a curvy redhead improve her pool game.