by Olivia Evans
As Clare ordered her drink, Anders took a moment to look her over. Her hair was dark blonde and her legs were long and lean. Without conscious thought, an image of Josie flashed in his mind. He blinked hard, trying to wipe away her image and focus on the easy conquest in front of him.
“Come here.” He slid his feet together and pulled her closer until she straddled his legs. “Why don’t you have a seat while we wait for our drinks?”
Clare giggled and did as he asked. Anders wrapped his arms around her and cupped her ass before pulling her flush against him. As soon as the waitress arrived with their drinks, he plucked the shooter full of tequila from the tray and grinned.
Without a word he leaned forward and ran his tongue over her swell of cleavage. He grabbed the saltshaker, sprinkled it over her skin, and then he slid the shooter between her breasts, unable to stop himself from imagining his cock sliding in that exact place. “Cheers.” He chuckled. Dragging his tongue over her salt-covered skin, he wrapped his lips around the rim of the shooter and dropped his head back. Setting down the empty glass, he grabbed a lime from the tray and sucked it between his lips. Just as he pulled the tart fruit from his mouth and moved in for a kiss, the sound of Owen’s laughter rang out beside him.
He turned, confused to see Owen staring at him. “Anders, you’re a fucking idiot. That”—he laughed, pointing at the girl occupying Anders’ lap—“cannot happen if you ever plan on fucking that chick.”
Anders’ brows pulled together as he wrapped his hands around Clare’s waist and pushed her off his lap. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Owen shook his head. “You really are stupid. More than a dozen pictures were just taken of you. Those shots will end up online or in a magazine in less than two days.”
“Yeah. And?” Anders shifted his eyes to Clare, who stared at him with a mix of confusion and embarrassment. He lifted a brow, his expression making her dismissal clear.
Owen tsked and grabbed his beer. “The girl—Josie? The one you’re so determined to fuck? She’s going to see those pictures and then it’ll be even harder to get into her pants.”
“Wait a fucking minute,” Anders stammered. “You mean I can’t fuck around with other girls while trying to hook up with her? What the fuck?”
“Anders. She’s already turned you down for a second round. If you’re trying to show her you want more, fucking around with these bitches isn’t going to help convince her.”
Anders scrubbed his face with his hand and blew out a harsh breath. “Goddamn it.”
Owen raised his brow. “Still worth the trouble? Or the lack of pussy?”
Anders hesitated. He wasn’t sure. Her image from earlier—defiant and strong-willed in her certainty of never sleeping with him again—flashed in his mind again. The answer was clear.
He downed the rest of his drink and stood. With a humorless chuckle he shook Owen’s hand. “Well, it looks like I’m going home to jerk off for the first time in years. Have a good night, asshole.”
Owen’s laugher trailed behind Anders as he walked out of the club. He kept his head down, not daring to make eye contact with any of the women as he passed. Instead he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts until he got to the one listed as Ivy. Without giving any thought to how she would react to finding out he had her number, he typed out a text.
Who’s your favorite band?
Sitting in his car, a feeling of apprehension twisted his stomach at the thought of getting involved with Josie, even if it was all an act. The last time he opened up any side of himself that wasn’t carefully orchestrated, he got screwed over in every way. It didn’t matter that this was different; it felt the same. That fact both pissed him off and scared the shit out of him. His phone chimed, snapping him out of his head.
That’s a very personal question. I don’t share those details with just anyone. Who is this?
He started his car and flipped on the lights before typing, hoping to keep his identity hidden a little longer.
Depeche Mode is one of my top bands. Corrupt is perfection.
He shifted his car into drive, the road blurring when he accelerated. He shouldn’t be driving, but unlike Walker, if he got pulled over, the incident would never see the light of day.
In a house across town, Josie tucked her feet under her and studied the text. It was past two in the morning. None of her friends would text so late, especially about such a random topic. Something about the song her mystery texter mentioned caused her heart to beat a little faster. Deciding to play along, she typed out a response.
What an interesting song choice. It’s very similar to one of my favorite Muse songs, Undisclosed Desires. You still haven’t told me your name.
As he waited at a traffic light, he read her reply, grinning when he realized she was just as tenacious with strangers as with him.
There’s something freeing about anonymity don’t you think? And you still haven’t told me your favorite band.
Josie read the text and shook her head. The flutters in her stomach felt like the wings of hummingbirds. She typed a response, staring at the words for several seconds as apprehension rose within her. She traced the outline of her lips that still burned from the venom of poisoned kisses. Somehow she knew her mystery texter and the person invading her mind were one in the same. She had no intention of getting burned again.
In my experience people who prefer anonymity are hiding something. What’s your secret?
Powering down her phone, she set it on the table and stood from the couch. Once in her bedroom she stripped and crawled into bed. As she stared at the ceiling and waited for sleep to claim her, she wondered how long it would be before one of them snapped.
Josie grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from her neck as she pulled out her earbuds. She’d hoped a workout before breakfast would clear her mind, but it had been the opposite. Moving toward the kitchen, she stopped when her phone beeped. Unease twisted in her stomach. She approached her phone as if it were a bomb.
Relief flooded her when Madison’s name appeared on the screen. When she’d powered on her phone the day before, she’d been full of trepidation, unsure what she would do if there was another message from her mystery texter. There wasn’t.
Instead of dwelling on the lack of response, she did something she hadn’t done in a long time: spoil herself. After a much needed visit to her salon, she spent a ridiculous amount of money on overpriced fashion magazines. That night she ate sushi and surrounded herself with the magazines, not giving a second thought to anonymous texts or jackass actors.
She managed to stay in her bubble until she woke panting from her vivid dream of Anders pressing her into the mattress with his body. Disgusted, she threw on workout clothes and plugged in her headphones, but fifteen minutes into her workout Muse started playing. It flipped a switch, and everything she tried to block out came rushing back with herculean force.
Shaking her head, she listened to Madison’s message that she was going to stop by. Josie texted to tell Madison to let herself in and then headed to the bathroom for a much-needed shower.
Half an hour later, Madison slid onto the kitchen stool next to Josie. “Well, I see you’ve been busy this weekend.” She eyed the scattered magazines before grabbing one and thumbing through the pages. The two sat in silence for several minutes, Josie lost in fabrics and necklines, while Madison tried to figure out how to broach the subject that brought her to Josie’s house in the first place.
“Just spit it out,” Josie sighed, not bothering to look up from the magazine.
“Fine. Holden and I are going out tonight. We want you to come with us.”
“Okay,” Josie drawled. A distraction would be welcome.
“And well, Holden is bringing someone with him.”
Josie’s brows rose in surprise. “Is there something you guys want to tell me?”
“Oh, shut up. It’s a guy he’s trying to hire. His name is Philip. He’s supposed to be this ho
t new chef that just moved here. He’s got a couple of different restaurants after him, and Holden thought since he was new in town, he could take him out. Show him around and get an edge over the others.”
Josie laughed at the indignant tone in Madison’s voice. “So what, I’m supposed to help lure this guy into his clutches? Wow, Holden must really want this guy to use me as bait.”
It was Madison’s turn to laugh. “Did you drink bleach this weekend? No matter how much Holden wants this guy for the restaurant, there’s no way he’d play matchmaker. Hell, he doesn’t introduce you to guys he does know. In his mind you’re still his sweet, innocent little sister.”
“Pigtails included?”
Still laughing, Madison nodded, “Pigtails included.”
Josie tsked, her face a mask of mock sympathy. “Poor, delusional bastard.”
“So you’ll come? Holden doesn’t want him to feel like a third wheel. He told the guy you were his sister, which I’m sure translated as ‘this isn’t a double date, so keep your hands to yourself.’”
“Yeah, I’ll come. Just tell me when and where.”
“El Conquistador’s at seven?”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll see you guys then.”
After Madison left, Josie settled onto her couch and grabbed her laptop. There was no better way to kill time than browse a few fashion sites. The idea backfired when the first site she opened had a picture of Anders at the top of the page. One click led to two, and before Josie realized it, she’d landed on a gossip site featuring pictures of Anders in a very compromising position.
Across town, Anders stared at the same images. His jaw ticked with annoyance as he clicked through the pictures. He swore under his breath and closed the laptop, not wanting to see proof of his stupidity all over Perez Hilton, Hollywood Life, and TMZ a second longer.
He stared at his phone, his thoughts shifting to the last text from Josie. He wondered if she figured out it was him. He didn’t know anything about her private life, but if she treated her other one-night stands like him, he doubted she exchanged phone numbers—or maybe she did. He groaned and fell back on his chair. This was why he didn’t do relationships. This was why he kept things simple and impersonal; the alternative was too much damn work.
Still, no matter how tempted he was, and even though the entire situation drove him crazy, he couldn’t walk away from the challenge Josie presented. He debated texting her again, but every doubt in his body said no. He should wait until he saw her so he could control the situation, read her facial expressions, and see firsthand if she suspected it was him. With a resigned sigh he threw his phone on the table and flipped on the television. He’d see her tomorrow. That would be soon enough.
Even in his mind he knew that was bullshit.
Later that evening, Josie pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot and grimaced, realizing she was late. Doing a quick check of her makeup, she stepped into the warm evening air. She hadn’t meant to be so late, but she’d spent more time getting ready than expected.
Once inside, Josie spotted Madison, who gave her a long look before waving her over. It was a domino effect from there. Josie cut her eyes to Holden to gauge his reaction, but Holden was staring at Philip, who was looking at Josie like she was something to eat.
“That’s your sister?” Philip asked, his eyes fixed on Josie as a sexy smile stretched across his face.
Holden hummed in response.
“Hey, Josie.” Madison gave Josie a questioning look, but didn’t press when Josie subtlety shook her head.
“Maddie.”
“There you are.” Holden rose from his chair and gave her a hug before turning to Philip who also stood.
“Philip, this is my sister, Josie. Josie, Philip.”
Philip wrapped his hand around Josie’s and dipped his chin but kept his eyes on her. “Hello, Josie. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Josie’s knees buckled when he spoke. His thick French accent made the greeting sound indecent. “Hi.” She cleared her throat and tried to ignore the way her own voice sounded high and off-pitch. Holden tugged Josie back, breaking the contact between the two.
“Do you want a Corona?” Holden asked, eyeing Philip as he eased back into his seat.
Josie shook her head. “Margarita on the rocks. Tequila shot on the side.”
Josie smiled at Philip and ignored Madison’s kick to her chair. She wasn’t in the mood to answer questions. She didn’t want to admit how much it bothered her to see those photos of Anders with his face buried between some girl’s breasts. She wondered how he could expel so much energy chasing her and still hook up with random girls. She couldn’t understand why he wasted the effort on her when it was obviously so easy for him to find girls. Her fists clenched. The reason was obvious. It was a game to him.
As much as she liked being chased, it wasn’t worth how it made her feel when she saw those pictures. She felt discarded and small, unimportant. Nothing was worth that. He’d been right when he said she was playing a very dangerous game she would not win. Which was why she was throwing in her cards. No more flirting. No more leather pants and low tops. She would keep things strictly professional from now on.
“When did you move to town?” Josie turned her attention to Philip as she grabbed her drink from the waitress and pulled the straw between her lips.
“Um, just two weeks ago.” His voice had risen at the end, making his statement sound more like a question than he intended. He couldn’t help it. The girl in front of him was quite distracting.
Josie hummed and grabbed the saltshaker. She licked her hand before sprinkling it with salt then grabbed the shot glass. “Cheers!” She downed the shot in one smooth motion, her expression not reflecting her distaste for the bitter liquor.
“I’ve got the next one.” Philip grinned. He motioned for the waitress to bring over four shots as Holden and Madison watched Josie with a mix of annoyance and concern. Two shots later everyone’s shoulders began to slacken and the tension in the air evaporated. They talked about LA and things to do around the city. Philip hinted more than once that he’d love for someone to show him around, but Josie’s tequila-hazed mind was too far gone to pick up his meaning, much to Holden’s relief.
It was when the conversation veered to Josie’s job that Madison noticed a crack in Josie’s carefully composed mask. She wasn’t sure what had happened, but something told her it had to do with Anders Ellis.
“If you guys will excuse us.” Madison didn’t elaborate. Instead she grabbed Josie’s hand and hauled her to the bathroom. The room spun when Madison yanked Josie to her feet, but she didn’t protest.
“Okay, what’s the deal?” Madison steadied Josie against the wall, then stepped back so she could get a good look at her drunken friend. Josie groaned and dropped her chin, her gaze fixed on her chest.
“I have a nice rack, don’t I? Wait, don’t answer that. I have a nice rack. I have a spectacular rack. Philip must think so. He hasn’t stopped staring since I got here.” Her words came out in a rush, her eyes widening as she looked from her chest to Madison.
“Okay first, please stop saying rack. Second, um, what is the matter with you?”
Josie pressed her palm to her forehead. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“Well, obviously it’s something. You’re not acting like yourself at all. Well, except for the tequila shots. That’s completely like you but beside the point.”
Josie cracked a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t be jealous because I can hold me liquor and you can’t.”
“Oh, I can hold it just fine. That’s the problem. Even when I should puke, I don’t. It’s caused a lot of tabletop dances I’m glad I can’t remember.” Madison giggled and walked over to Josie. Grabbing Josie’s hands, she pulled her away from the wall and threw an arm over her shoulders. “You ready to talk to me now?”
“I’m just annoyed with myself. It’s not a big deal, I promise.” Josie meant what she said. She wasn’t going to let th
is thing with Anders mess with her any more. She was going to concentrate on the here and now. It didn’t hurt that the here and now included a hot French chef who stared at her like a four-course meal.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, your tits are fantastic.”
Josie let out a loud, grateful laugh and hugged Madison. “Thanks for letting me work this out on my own.”
“No pressure, Josie. But I’m here if you need me.”
“I know.”
“Now”―Madison laughed―“let’s go back out there and see how many shades of red your brother’s face can turn from watching Philip eye fuck you.”
Josie pretended to gag. “Can you please not mention my brother and any kind of fucking in the same sentence? There’s not enough tequila in the world for me to not be grossed out by that image.”
Madison grinned mischievously. “Challenge accepted.”
The rest of the night passed in a blur: more tequila, a second bar, then a third. Sweet words wrapped in a silky French accent tried their best to land a date with Josie. Despite his efforts, all Philip managed to score was a kiss on the cheek and his number slipped into Josie’s back pocket. Holden breathed a sigh of relief as Josie stumbled into her house at the end of the night. He wasn’t sure what was bothering her, but he’d mind his business for now.
The sound of Josie’s alarm clock beeping the next morning made her moan in pain. She rolled to her side and reached for the snooze button, her arm waving in the air before making contact. Hugging her pillow, she burrowed under the covers. Her mouth felt like it was full of sawdust, and she was certain a hundred tiny men were chopping down a forest in her head.
Forty-five minutes later her phone rang, jarring her from sleep. She squinted at the clock before cursing under her breath and jumping out of bed. The room tipped and her stomach rolled as she braced herself on the nightstand.
“Hello?” Her voice was low and scratchy, like sandpaper rubbing cement.
