Authors: Jill Shalvis
“Problem?” she asked.
“There always is.”
“And you’re the go-to guy?”
“At the moment,” he said, master of short sentences.
He looked at her then. Like really looked at her, in a way no one else ever seemed to. “How’s the jingle writing going?”
She mimed hanging herself with a rope.
He smiled. “Need another Band-Aid?”
The words were like a hot caress, and she felt her nipples react hopefully. “You have an engine problem requiring your attention,” she reminded him.
“There’s always time for a break.”
She laughed. Spoken like a man. “I’d have my mind on work,” she said.
He flashed her a very bad-boy smile. “Becca, I can promise you, your mind wouldn’t be on work.”
Her pulse took a hard leap at yet another promise. “I suppose everyone’s entitled to a little bit of a break now and again,” she said softly. “Right?”
His eyes darkened, and he stepped closer, just as a car tore into the lot. A woman leapt out, slammed her door, and went hands on curvy hips as she tossed back her long blond hair. “So you
are
alive,” she said, glaring at Sam.
“Selena.” His voice was so carefully neutral that Becca took a second look at him. His expression, fun and sexy only a moment before, was now closed off.
The woman standing in front of them was tall, leggy, and built like Barbie. Beachy Barbie. She wore a red-and-white sundress that looked so good she might have walked right off the runway and gave Becca a hard, speculative look before turning to Sam. “That was fast.”
Becca knew she should’ve been insulted, but actually she was secretly tickled pink if this beautiful creature was jealous of her.
“I’ve called you like twenty-five times and left you a
bunch of texts,” Selena said to Sam. “Your phone broken?”
“No,” he said.
Becca waited for him to explain. He’d been gone for a few days, out of range, yet he didn’t say a word in his defense.
Steam practically flew out Selena’s ears. “So you’re what,” she asked in disbelief, going up in volume with each word, “
ignoring
me?”
“It’s been a month,” he said. “I thought there was nothing left to say.”
“I’ve got plenty left to say!” Selena screeched. “And if you’d answered even a single call, you’d know it!”
Sam looked pained. “My office then.”
“Oh,
hell
no,” Selena said. “This shit’s going public now. You took me to Cottonwoods. Cottonwoods is a
serious
place, Sam. It says we’re in a relationship.”
“We went to Cottonwoods because you
asked
to go there,” Sam said. “It was our second date, and over appetizers you informed me you were researching sperm donors so you could get inseminated.”
Selena’s crazy eyes narrowed. “And?”
“
Sperm donors
,” he repeated, as if this explained all.
“You saying I scared you off?” Selena asked. “You’re not afraid of anything, Sam, and you damn well know it.”
Becca swiveled to get Sam’s reaction. She might not have dated him twice, or gone to Cottonwoods—wherever that was—but even she already knew Sam Brody wouldn’t admit to be scared off by a single thing.
When Sam didn’t respond, Selena whirled to storm off, giving Becca a not-so-accidental shoulder shove. “He’s dead inside, you know,” she snapped. “He’s magic in the sack, but trust me, he’s not worth it.”
Becca didn’t respond, and Selena shook her head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
A moment later, her tires squealed as she left the lot.
There was an awkward silence as Becca and Sam watched her go. Well,
Becca
was feeling awkward. Hard to say what Sam was feeling. He kept his own counsel. “Okay, yeah,” she finally said, “I can see why you might not like to live in the past.”
Two days later, Sam stood in the hut at the front counter. He had notes on three different napkins, one scratched in ink on his forearm, and another on a piece of wood from his shop in his back pocket.
And the phone was still ringing.
He was at the end of his rope, for lots of reasons. He hadn’t managed to break away from work long enough to get any time alone with Becca. And he wanted to be alone with her. Not just to get her naked again, though he wanted that, badly. But he also wanted to get inside her head and learn more about her.
Cole came in from the boat. He and Tanner had taken out a group of twelve before the crack of dawn for a deep-sea fishing trip.
Sam had stayed behind to catch up on paperwork—which he hadn’t gotten to thanks to the phones. “This place is insane,” he said. “No one writes shit down.”
“You’re the one who won’t use the schedule,” Cole said.
Tanner trailed in behind Cole, dripping water everywhere as he limped in, carrying some of the gear. “He doesn’t use the schedule to prove a point.”
“Not true,” Sam said.
Okay, it was totally true.
“I’m trying to work.” He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the warehouse behind them. “But the fucking phones keep ringing, and no one’s answering them. Why isn’t anyone answering?”
“You know why,” Cole said. “We haven’t hired anyone yet. Were any of the calls from prospective applicants?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Which is why I’m in here. I made appointments with three people. One didn’t show.”
“And the other two?”
“One was Lucille,” Sam said. “Again. She showed up in a bikini to prove she was—” He used air quotes. “Beach-savvy.”
They all shuddered.
“I reminded her that we’d discussed this, that there were age limitations to this job,” Sam said. “And then she accused me of being a geriatric bigot. She said I should be expecting to hear from her lawyer.”
Tanner grinned. “And the third?”
Sam looked at Cole. “Your sister.”
“Aw, Christ,” Cole muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Which one?”
“Does it matter?” Tanner asked. “They’re all crazy.”
Cole held out a palm to Tanner. “Pay up.”
“What?” Tanner said, still dripping water everywhere.
“You swore you wouldn’t make fun of my family anymore, remember?” Cole asked. “And I said that you couldn’t stop yourself, and you said you could, too, and then I said I bet you, and you said no sweat, and I said put your money where your mouth is, and you said fifty bucks. So. . .” He wriggled his fingers. “Fifty bucks, man. Right now.”
Tanner shrugged. “Can’t. I’m holding all this wet gear. I can’t reach my wallet.”
“Turn around, I’ll get it.”
This made Tanner grin and shake his head. “It’s in my front pocket.”
Cole yanked his hand back like he’d been bitten. “No way am I touching your front pocket. Sam,
you
do it.”
“Why me?”
“You get me my money, and I’ll hire someone today so you can stop bitching.”
Sam sighed and shoved his hand down Tanner’s front pocket.
The door opened behind them. Becca walked in and stopped short at the sight of Sam with his hand down the front of Tanner’s pants.
“Am I interrupting something?” she asked.
Cole was grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Yes.”
“
No
,” Sam said, and pulled out Tanner’s wallet. He flipped it open, pocketed all the cash, then shoved the wallet back at Tanner.
“Hey,” Cole said.
“
Hey
,” Tanner said.
Ignoring them both, Sam turned to Becca.
She waved an ad that he recognized from the local paper.
Their
ad. He met her gaze and saw the truth—she was going to apply for the job. “No,” he said. He couldn’t hire someone he’d slept with. No matter how good a time he’d had. And he’d had a
great
time.
“Too late,” Becca said. “I already applied online as the ad suggested. And I don’t want to toot my own horn or anything, but I’m pretty perfect for this job.”
“Still no,” Sam said.
She gave him a long look. “Afraid I’ll scream at you about you being dead inside like your ex did?”
Cole and Tanner cackled at this like two annoying hens while Becca tapped the ad. “—It says right here that you need someone strong on phones and with good people skills.” She lifted her gaze and looked at all three of them. “I’m both, by the way. I worked as an admin in a New Orleans ad agency all last year while I was writing jingles.”
“Jingles?” Cole asked.
“I write jingles for commercials and stuff,” she said. “It’s all in the application. You’ll see.”
“No shit,” Cole said, looking impressed. “You any good?”
“At jingles?” She shrugged. “I did a big soup campaign. Oh, and you know the commercial for Indie Burgers?” She began to sing, “. . .tell me how you like it, tell me how you want it—”
Cole joined in for the finish, “I want it smokin’, I wanna feel the heat. . .” He grinned. “That was a good one. What else did you do?”
Her smile went a little stiff. “Well, nothing for a while after that. But I just finished up one for Cushy toilet paper. Now I’m stuck on my latest project.”
“What’s it for?” Cole asked.
She paused. Sighed. “Diaxsis.”
Cole shook his head, looking clueless. “What’s that?”
Tanner grinned. “I know.”
“Probably shouldn’t be proud of that, man,” Sam said, laughing when Tanner gave him a shove.
“What the hell is it?” Cole asked.
Tanner held up a limp finger and then straightened it. He accompanied this with a brow waggle.
Becca sighed. “Back to my application,” she said. “The good news is that if I could keep a staff of twenty-five organized, most of them angry women, the three of you’ll be a piece of cake.”
“You think men are easier than women?” Cole asked.
Becca laughed.
“Yeah,” Cole said, smiling at her. “You’re probably right.”
Okay, Sam thought, so there was more to cute, sweet Becca than met the eye. She had brains, and she wasn’t a pushover.
But neither was he. “You’d need references,” he said.
“You can call mine,” Becca said, but then her easy smile faded some. “But as I already noted on my app, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t say exactly where your business is located, or where I am.”
There was a beat of silence as this request was absorbed, and Sam felt something tighten in his chest. “You in any sort of trouble that we should know about?” he asked, just as serious now as she.
“Nope,” Becca said quickly.
Too
quickly.
Damn.
Sam exchanged a look with Cole and Tanner. Not a one of them didn’t recognize a problem when they saw one.
Becca lifted the ad again. “You need someone to start ASAP. Luckily, that happens to be exactly when I’m available.” Her smile was back. “ASAP.”
“I gotta ask,” Tanner said. “You any better at phones than you are at waitressing?”
Cole gave him a dirty look, but Tanner shrugged.
“Yes,” Becca said, not looking insulted in the least. “I’m much better at phones than waitressing.”
As if on cue, the phone rang. Cole, Tanner, and Sam groaned in unison.
Becca gestured to it. “May I?”
Cole waved at her, like
Please
.
She leaned over Sam, teasing him with her scent and a brush of her arm against his as she grabbed the phone. “Lucky Harbor Charters,” she answered. “How can I help you?” She paused, listened politely, and then said, “I’m sorry, Sam no longer works here. No, there’s no forwarding address. Thank you for calling.” She disconnected.
“What the hell?” Sam said.
“It was Selena.”
Cole grinned. “You’re hired.”
Tanner nodded. “And keep that snooty tone in your voice. Sounds authoritative and sexy. I like it.”
“No,” Sam said.
“Two to one,” Tanner said.
Sam gave him a look.
“What?” Tanner said. “She’s prettier than you
and
friendlier than you.”
“Plus, I just promised you I’d hire someone today,” Cole said. “Voilà,
done
.”
Sam ushered Becca to one of the stools in front of the counter. “Give us a minute,” he said.
Then he manhandled Cole and Tanner out the front. The three of them stood on the beach. “No,” he said firmly, arms crossed.
“Give me one good reason,” Cole said.
Sam searched his brain. He couldn’t come up with one
good
reason. But he had lots of
bad
reasons, starting with the fact that he’d slept with her.
Except there’d been no sleeping.
And every night since, he’d dreamed of her. Really hot dreams about how she’d felt writhing beneath him. She had this way of helplessly whispering his name over and over again—Christ. He had to stop thinking about it. “This isn’t a good idea,” he repeated.
“She wants the job,” Cole said. “And we need her.” He paused. “Unless there’s a reason working with her would be a problem? Like, say, she’s an ex who’s a nut job? But usually, that’s Tanner’s area of expertise.”
“Hey,” Tanner said.
Cole gave him a long look, and Tanner sighed. “Fine,” he said. “That’s definitely my area of expertise. But Sam doesn’t go for nut jobs. He keeps his entire life compartmentalized. He wouldn’t work with someone he likes.”
Cole’s face changed. “Shit, that’s it.” He turned back to Sam. “That’s why you said she was off limits. You
like
her.”
“What is this, high school?” Sam asked.
“No,” Cole said. “Because you didn’t like anyone in high school. You loved them and left them.”
Definitely not going there, Sam decided. “We’re not doing this, and before you whine about it, you both owe me. You,” he said, pointing at Tanner.
“Me, what?”
“The night you went skinny-dipping with some chick. She stole your clothes and you had to walk home butt-ass naked.”
Tanner winced. “That was a million years ago, man.”
“You came knocking on my window for clothes,” Sam said, “which I handed over without giving you shit. Well, not too much shit anyway. And you.” He turned to Cole.
Cole opened his mouth, but Sam plowed ahead. “Remember
the night you were grounded and not supposed to go out? Except you did, and you got drunk, and I had to drag your trashed ass home, and when your mom caught us at the door I let you pretend it was me who was plastered, that it was me who’d needed saving so that you didn’t get grounded for the rest of your life.”