Page 6 of Beautiful Distraction

I haven’t been with anyone in more than a year. It’s been solong I wouldn’t be surprised to find cobwebs down there.

If I were into one-night stands, he’d be perfect. Hot,arrogant, the kind who wouldn’t even think about asking for your number, letalone call you after you’d done the dirty deed.

But there’s no way in hell I’d hook up with someone who’s soobvious and obnoxious about it. Somewhere in the background, I can hear myphone ringing, reminding me that time is of the essence.

“Is that your boyfriend calling?” He grins. “You seem to beignoring him.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“No boyfriend, then.” His arrogance is monumental. You canprobably see it from outer space. And it irritates the hell out of me. “So,what do you say? In case you didn’t get it, I asked—”

“I heard you loud and clear, and the answer’s no.”

“No?” His brows shoot up in surprise.

“No.”

“You sure?” He peels his gaze off my breasts, albeitunwillingly, and finally settles on my face.

I cross my arms over my chest and regard him coolly. “Hasyour flavor of the day stood you up and now you’re in desperate need of areplacement hookup? I’m no replacement fuck, ever. There’s definitely not goingto be any coming. And I’m not a hooker. I’m not offering up my body to pay forthe damage to your car.”

“I figured that much. At least let me buy you a drink, andwe’ll take it from there.” His gaze sweeps over me again in that deliberate,tantalizing way. “You owe me.”

In spite of his harmless words, I can feel what he’sthinking.

“Owe you?” I laugh. “Why are you like this? You don’t evenknow me.”

“In my line of work, I don’t have time to waste, especiallynot when I like what I see.” He peers behind him. I follow his line of sight tothe long queue in front of the club.

What is it that he does?

Is he a pimp?

A drug lord?

I’m fascinated and curious as hell.

I almost take the bait and ask, but bite my tongue to stopmyself before I do.

“Sorry, I think I’ll pass. You’re not my type.” I take astep back to put some distance between us. A pang of disappointment flashesacross his face, but he seems to get the message.

“I’m everybody’s type,” he says. “You just have to realizeit.”

I have no doubt about that, but I keep my stony expressionin place, proud that I’ve just rejected the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. Later,in the loneliness and privacy of my four walls, I’ll probably feel differently.

His flirty expression seems to change before my eyes.

Yeah, he definitely got the memo.

His gaze travels the length of my Ford, assessing it withwhat I assume are knowing eyes. Without waiting for my reply, he pulls hiswallet out of his back pocket and begins writing a check that he goes on tosqueeze into my hand. I peer at the sum he’s just agreed to pay, and my mouthgoes dry.

Holy cow.

That’s a lot of money.

My Ford’s not worth that much.

“This should cover your repairs, though my advice is to buya new car.”

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