by Ella Frank
Shutting her eyes on a groan, she shook her head at Lena, who was now biting her lip and trying hard not to laugh. Putting her glass down, Shelly slowly turned, ready to face the music.
***
So, Barbie has a mouth on her. Big surprise, Josh thought as he watched the blonde’s back stiffening. He knew from what Mason had told him that the woman currently facing him, trying to contain her laughter, was Lena. Her green eyes were smiling at him, and her long brown hair was spilling over her shoulders in a riot of curls.
Yep, Mason had described her right down to the smirk appearing across her mouth, so he knew this was the woman who’d won his friend over. That left the blonde, who must be Dr. Shelly Monroe. Josh looked back to the woman who was slowly placing her margarita glass on the table and turning toward them.
The first thing Josh noticed about her was the hair. Man, she has some perfect-looking hair. It landed just beneath her shoulders in a completely straight line. The color was almost what he’d describe as platinum, but it had several darker shades of gold through it, which could’ve only been achieved through a very high-end salon. He knew that courtesy of Melissa.
The second thing he noticed was her cherry-red skirt. Not only was it short enough to show off a good portion of her thigh, it was the same bright shade as, what he was presuming, was her Barbie convertible out in the parking lot. When she finally faced them on spiked black heels, she smoothed her matching black blouse and lifted her face. That was when he noticed her eyes. They were such a startling deep cerulean blue that he could barely take his eyes away from them, so he just stood there and watched as she flicked her now amused gaze to Mason.
“Didn’t anyone teach you it’s not nice to sneak up on people?”
Mason crossed his arms, looking down at the petite blonde. “Don’t try and wiggle your way out of this, Shel.”
Mason smiled and turned to face him while Josh watched her red lips tip up in return. “Josh, this is Dr. Shelly Monroe, and that gorgeous woman over there is my doctor, Lena.” Mason paused, and then looked back to Shelly. “This is my non-balding friend, Josh Daniels.”
Josh focused on her as she turned and looked him in the eye. Not only did she seem unembarrassed about what’d just happened, but she also seemed to be challenging him to make it an issue.
“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.
Chapter Two
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.
Last night was interesting.
Meeting up with his old college friend had been great. He’d forgotten how much fun he’d had with Mason back in the day. He was so easygoing, and his family was awesome.
Rachel was exactly how he remembered. Crazy, he thought with a chuckle, but he also felt there was something else going on now with the crazy, or maybe he was just imagining that.
He leaned a shoulder up against the glass door as Mutley took the opportunity to sniff every plant in the yard.
Josh was happy to see Rachel was still sporting the colorful hair—so colorful that she almost looked like an Easter egg, not that he’d ever tell her that.
The Langley family had been through a rough year. He’d been extremely saddened to hear of Catherine’s passing. He’d known Mason’s father had died a few years back, and he had sent flowers when he couldn’t make it to the funeral. But to learn that the gentle lady with the warm smile had passed—well, there just weren’t any words. The world had lost a wonderful soul.
Mason’s Lena was adorable and absolutely perfect for his friend. He couldn’t have found a better woman if he’d gone around with a list of requirements and marked off each one. She was funny, stubborn, smart, and quick as a whip, and his friend was completely and hopelessly in love with her.
He hadn’t known what to expect when Mason had told him he was engaged. After all, she would have to be someone pretty special to have Mason finally give up the bachelor life, but after being around the two of them for less than four hours, he could see they were a perfect fit.
Then, there was Shelly Monroe—who was another matter altogether. With her blonde hair, huge blue eyes, and a body that just wouldn’t quit, he’d found it hard to keep his eyes off her. He’d made a conscious effort to have as little to do with her as possible, but that didn’t mean he stopped trying to catch quick glances of her from the reflection in the mirrors behind the bar. The lady was a knockout. Not only was she stacked, but she also oozed sex and was as smart as her BFF, Lena. Combine those three ingredients, and you’ve got one dangerous package. The woman was a man-eater, and he had to admit he was finding it difficult to avoid the urge to offer himself up for a bite.
He reminded himself for the millionth time that she was not what he wanted. Melissa had been the same way—stunning, funny, and a spitfire in bed. In everyone’s bed.
No, he needed someone gentle, sweet, and possibly cute, and for that very reason, he was going to stay the hell away from Man-Eater Monroe.
***
Later that evening, Shelly let herself into the house, dropping several shopping bags on the floor. She fished through her bag, looking for her ringing cell phone, grabbed it, and answered.
“Monroe.”
“Hey there,” Lena’s voice greeted.
“Hey, you. What’s up?”
“Not much. Just sitting here, watching TV, and waiting for Mason to get home.”
Shelly moved around the couch and sat down, kicking her purple heels off and propping her feet up on the table.
“So, I’m your I’m-bored phone call?”
“No! You know that’s not true.”
Shelly laughed. “I know. I’m just giving you a hard time.”
“Figures,” Lena mumbled, and then paused. “So?”
“I knew it! I knew there was an underlying reason why you called me. Spit it out, O’Donnell.”
“I just wanted to know what you thought of Josh?”
“He seemed nice,” Shelly replied, keeping it vague.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
Sighing, Shelly shook her head even though her friend couldn’t see. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you. He’s not my type.”
“You need to broaden your horizons. Did you ever think Mason would be my type?”
“Ahh, Lena?” Shelly questioned.
“Yeah?”
“No one was your type! You didn’t date. I do,” Shelly stressed into the phone.
Lena sighed, and then said softly, “Okay, so you’re right there, but obviously, something isn’t working. You’re miserable. You always complained about Paul, and before that Steve, and before that—”
“Yeah, yeah, I get the picture,” Shelly mumbled. “But that doesn’t mean I want to date Josh the handyman.”
“Well, actually—” Lena tried to interrupt.
/> “No. There’s no actually in this conversation. He’s not for me. Now, find me a cute banker, CEO, or lawyer.”
“Paul was a lawyer,” Lena pointed out.
“Okay, not a lawyer, but not a contractor, or an inventor, or a salesman. Ugh.”
There was silence, and then Lena asked softly, “What’s wrong with all those things? At least they’re jobs.”
Shelly thought about what she’d just said and agreed it had sounded obnoxious. “You’re right. I’m being a jerk. They are jobs. I’m just not interested in Josh, okay?”
“Okay, okay. I get it. Mason and I just thought it would be nice.”
Shelly let out a laugh and replied good-naturedly, “You and Mason are two interfering busybodies. Go and practice making babies.”
“Hmm. Now, there’s a good idea,” Mason’s deep voice came over the phone.
“Lena! How many times have I told you to tell me when I’m on speakerphone? What if I’d been telling you about the latest penis I’d—”
“Stop! Stop! My ears—they’re bleeding!” Mason yelled, laughing.
“Well, it serves you right. Now, go and keep your fiancée occupied, so she leaves me alone.”
Suddenly, Mason’s voice sounded much closer when he answered, “With pleasure,” and then the connection died.
Looking down at her silent phone, Shelly let out a deep breath and glanced around her empty house. God, when had it become so lonely here?
About five minutes ago, when she’d heard from lover’s paradise, that’s when. Ugh, she thought, standing up and heading down to her bedroom. She needed to stop feeling sorry for herself.
Maybe she needed a pet. A dog, perhaps? Oh no! All that slobbering. That settles it. She was going to get a cat.
When she reached her room, she stopped and shook her head. No, not a cat either. The implications of an older single woman with a cat were horrifying.
Unzipping her skirt, she stepped out of it when it fell to the floor, and then walked into the bathroom. She turned on the sink faucet and reached for the face scrub in her cabinet. Tying up her hair, she watched the basin fill, and suddenly, it hit her—the perfect pet.
