Tempt Me: A First Class Romance Collection

by Hawkins, Jessica

  Finally, when the group’s laughter has died down enough for conversation to resume, Keane flashes me his irresistible dimples, pats me on the head like a puppy and says, “Z and I met in math class in eighth grade. I said, ‘Yo, smart guy, will you help me with this shit?’ And we’ve been best friends ever since.”

  37

  Ryan

  Fuck my life.

  I’m standing here talking to Josh, Kat, Jonas, Sarah, Henn and Henn’s girlfriend, Hannah (whom Kat keeps calling “Hannah Banana Montana Milliken”), and, much to my horror, Henn’s in the midst of telling everyone about the email I sent him earlier today. And as he does, maybe I’m paranoid, but it truly seems like Kat’s face keeps lighting up with recognition, specifically when Henn says “Charlotte McDougal” and “redhead” and “Delta.”

  “So did you call Charlotte?” Henn asks me.

  “Yeah, I left a voicemail for her, but she hasn’t called me back yet,” I reply, lying through my teeth. (What choice do I have?)

  “Keep us posted,” Henn says. “Hopefully, Charlotte McDougal will finally lead you to your Argentinian whale, Captain Ahab.”

  “Hey, will you all excuse me for a second?” Kat says. “I see Tessa over there talking to Dax and I want to make sure we’re all set for tomorrow night’s big concert.” Without waiting for anyone’s reply, Kat beelines across the party, straight to Dax and Tessa—a move that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. What the fuck is my diabolical sister up to?

  “So you’re still totally into the flight attendant,” Josh says, his eyes narrowed.

  I look at Josh and my stomach clenches at the hard-ass way he’s looking at me. Obviously, he’s not thrilled to think I’m still obsessed with Samantha while simultaneously sniffing around his honorary little sister.

  “I’m not still into the flight attendant,” I reply lamely. “I just want to find her so I can clear my name with her, that’s all. She thinks I’m some sort of player-douche, and that’s the furthest thing from the truth.”

  “What the fuck!” Henn blurts, drawing my attention away from Josh’s hard stare. “You want to find Samantha to ‘clear your name,’ and not because she’s your Cinderella? Jesus, that’s hardly a reason to hack into nine airlines.”

  Fuck.

  Henn looks at Jonas. “Back me up on this, Big Guy: Ryan said he had a big-time ‘soul connection’ with the flight attendant. It was never about clearing his name.”

  “Yup,” Jonas says. “That’s what he said. His soul was screaming at him to find her.”

  Aw, Jesus. Now Jonas is looking at me like I’m a complete asshole.

  “No. Yeah. I did say that,” I choke out. Fuck! “And I meant every word. It was all true. It’s just that it’s been so long at this point, I’ve had to start managing my expectations, you know, to protect my sanity. So, I’ve decided if this Charlotte McDougal doesn’t call me back within the next forty-eight hours, then I’m just gonna have to force myself to move on and not think about Samantha anymore—just because it’s not sane to do otherwise.”

  Now Jonas is looking at me like I’m not just an asshole, I’m a traitorous motherfucker, too. “Well, kudos to you if moving on is that simple for you, man,” Jonas says. “Whether it’s the sane thing to do or not, I certainly wouldn’t have been able to turn the page on my search for Sarah the way you’re saying, not if I’d invested the kind of time and effort you have and was as close as you are now.” Jonas glances at his brother and they share a loaded look, and then Jonas returns his attention to me and smiles. “But, hey, I guess I’m just a much crazier fuck than you.”

  38

  Tessa

  “Z and I met in math class in eighth grade,” Keane says. “I said, ‘Yo, smart guy, will you help me with this shit?’ And we’ve been best friends ever since.”

  I giggle. “Oh my gosh, Keane. Did you come up with that ri-dick-ulous story on the fly, or is that your go-to answer whenever someone asks how you and Zander met?”

  “On the fly,” Keane says. “Bullshitting is kinda my superpower.”

  Zander chuckles. “If bullshitting could pay the bills, Peenie and I would be living in the penthouse suite.”

  “Bullshitting can pay the bills these days,” I say. “It’s called reality TV. Actually, in all seriousness, I bet if a casting agent—”

  I feel an arm slide around my shoulders and I stop talking—and when I turn my head, I see Kat’s gorgeous, smiling face a few inches from mine.

  “Hey, Miss Rodriguez,” Kat coos. “Are you having fun, as promised?”

  I hold up my near-empty glass. “Yes, Mrs.-Faraday-To-Be. The rum punch is flowing and Keane just finished telling me the highly entertaining story of how he and Zander fell in platonic love thanks to identical dick-tattoos.”

  Kat laughs. “That’s a new one. I thought Peenie and Z became besties after being trapped together in an elevator with a porn star.” She shoots Keane a snarky look and he belly-laughs. “Fucking Peen,” she mutters, but she’s smiling. “So, Tessa, I came over here to make sure everything’s all set for tomorrow night’s concert?”

  “Yep. I’ve got everything handled, my dear. The sound company will be here at three to start setting up; sound-check for the boys will be at five, right before the luau; and, when the luau’s over, we’ll make an announcement telling everyone to head over to the nightclub for the show. And, don’t worry, I’ll personally escort Reed Rivers to the nightclub.”

  “Ah, you’ve figured out my dastardly plan, have you?” Kat says.

  I wink.

  “Please do make sure Reed gets his ass over there,” Kat says. “My worst nightmare would be for Reed to suddenly decide to take a stroll on the beach with a hula dancer after the luau.”

  “I’ll get him there, by hook or crook,” I say. “I promise.”

  “You’re amazing, Tessa. Hey, come with me to the bar, would you, honey? I need another club soda and it looks like your glass is empty.”

  “Sure thing.” I put my arm out and she links her elbow in mine and we stroll toward the bar like she’s a duchess and I’m her merry maid, giggling the entire way.

  “Have I ever told you how much you remind me of Sarah?” Kat says.

  “Yup, you told me that while we were shopping for your wedding dress, remember?”

  “That’s right. And what did you say in response?”

  “I said that was funny because you remind me so much of my best friend, too.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Kat says. “And what’d you say to me then? I remember it was so cute.”

  “I said my best friend Charlotte is you to a tee, if only Charlotte had blonde hair instead of red and an additional five inches added to her legs.”

  Kat giggles. “I just love that my spiritual doppelgänger is a cute little redhead. What’s Charlotte’s last name again? I remember it was an adorable little leprechaun name.”

  “Wow, you have a great memory. Charlotte McDougal.”

  Kat lets out a loud squeal. “Charlotte McDougal. That’s right. Oh, how I love that adorable name.”

  “Charlotte’s name fits her. She’s a sassy little leprechaun.”

  “To sassy leprechauns!” Kat says, raising her cup.

  “Hear, hear!” I say.

  “Let’s go over there, honey,” Kat says, pointing to a quiet area overlooking the moonlit beach. “I want you all to myself for a minute.”

  We walk a few paces to a secluded little spot, and I must admit, I’m feeling awfully special Kat wants to talk with me one-on-one for a bit, even if it’s just for a few minutes, especially when she’s got an entire party full of people who’ve flown thousands of miles to be with her.

  “So pretty,” Kat says, looking at the ocean. “It’s truly paradise, isn’t it?”

  “It sure is,” I agree. “Thank you for letting me enjoy it as a guest. I thought it’d be hard for me to take my employee-hat off, but I’ve found it shockingly easy.” I take another long guzzle of my drink and gi
ggle to myself about how buzzed I feel.

  “You feeling okay, honey?” Kat says. “You seem a little wobbly.”

  “I’m great. Fantastic. But, yeah, a teeny bit wobbly.”

  “Hold onto my belly, sweetie—it’s like a life raft.”

  I place both of my palms on Kat’s hard baby bump. “Ah. Much better. Thanks.”

  “You don’t get crazy-wild very often, do you?”

  I shake my head. “I’m a Virgo.”

  “A Virgo? Do you know I love astrology?”

  “No, I had no idea.”

  “I do. I’ve read a million books on it. I’m a whiz.” She assesses me for a long beat. “Virgos are the careful ones—tender and sensitive but very cautious.”

  I nod. “That’s me. Sensitive and cautious.”

  “They pay great attention to detail. They’re precise. They’re loyal as hell, love to help people, and absolutely hate feeling out of control.”

  “You’ve got me pegged, sister.”

  “Sucks to be you, then, huh?”

  I laugh. “Sometimes.”

  “I can’t imagine wanting to be in control all the time,” Kat says. “In fact, losing complete control of myself is one of my favorite pastimes.”

  “Charlotte’s the same way,” I say. “And I must say, I’m beginning to think you crazy-girls might know something the rest of us don’t. I’ve recently discovered losing complete control of myself—at appropriate times—has its advantages.” I snicker to myself.

  “God, it’s amusing to be the only sober person at a party.”

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing. Tessa sweetie, I was just thinking. Wouldn’t it be fun if we got Charlotte and Sarah together to see if they’d fall as deeply in love as we have?”

  My heart leaps. Kat Morgan and I have fallen “deeply in love”? I didn’t realize that. I mean, I knew I had a major girl-crush on Kat, of course. Who wouldn’t? But I had no idea the feeling was mutual. All of a sudden, I feel so much love for Kat, I want to grab her and kiss her. So, that’s what I do. I put my arms around her and press my body into her baby bump and lay a big, fat kiss on her soft cheek. “You’re sweet, Kat Morgan,” I whisper. “Sweet as can be.”

  Kat giggles. “And you’re drunk, Tessa Rodriguez.”

  “A little bit.”

  “But also really, really sweet,” Kat adds.

  “Thank you. So are you.”

  “You said that already.”

  “Oh, yeah. Well, you are.”

  Kat and I disengage from our embrace and she strokes my long hair for a minute, her hand around my waist. “I really think you should invite Charlotte to come here for the week,” she says. “You’re a guest, right? Well, every guest gets a plus-one. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it before.”

  “You’re so sweet, Kitty,” I say, putting my cheek on her shoulder. “Sweet, sweet, sweet. I didn’t know a woman who looks like a supermodel could be so sweet.”

  Kat laughs. “You look like a supermodel.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “Sweet.”

  “So will you ask Charlotte to come to Maui? I’m dying to meet her.”

  “Okay. I’m supposed to talk with Charlotte tomorrow about this asshole I slept with, so I’ll ask her then.”

  “Perfect. Wait, what are you gonna talk to Charlotte about tomorrow?”

  “About an asshole I slept with today.” Gah! This is exactly why I shouldn’t drink on the job. “I mean, um, the other day. I shouldn’t have slept with him—it was very bad of me—but I did it and I’m not at all sorry.”

  Kat’s face is absolutely glowing. “Who is he?”

  “Oh, just this guy,” I say. “This hot guy who’s probably gonna wind up breaking my heart and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “Why do you think he’s gonna break your heart?” Kat asks. “Maybe he’s not an asshole, after all.”

  “Nope. He’s an asshole. A lying, cheating scumbag-asshole. But for some reason, my body doesn’t seem to care.”

  Kat strokes my hair again. “I like Drunk Tessa. She’s a blabbermouth.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I vote you give the asshole a chance,” Kat says. “Maybe he’s got a perfectly good explanation for his purported assholery.”

  “Or maybe he’s just an asshole.”

  We stare at the moonlight, cuddled up for a long beat.

  “Hey, I was just wondering,” Kat says. “Does Charlotte happen to work in PR, just like me? That’d be a crazy coincidence, wouldn’t it?”

  “Nope. No PR for Charlotte—she’s a flight attendant.”

  Kat lets out a strangely demonic noise. “God, I love my life.”

  “I love your life, too, Kitty. I want your life.”

  “What airline does Charlotte work for?” Kat asks.

  “Delta.”

  Kat lets out a little evil-laugh and then smiles at me sweetly. “Does Charlotte like being a flight attendant for Delta?”

  “Oh, she loves it. It’s her dream job. Wooh! I’m feeling really wobbly.” I grip Kat’s baby bump even more tightly.

  “You okay?” Kat asks.

  I nod.

  Kat squeezes my arm. “I have a friend who’s a flight attendant and she loves it, too. She especially loves the attention she gets from men whenever she wears her uniform, especially to bars—she says she feels like the sexiest girl in the world.”

  “Oh my gosh! That’s exactly what Charlotte says!”

  “No.”

  “Yes,” I insist.

  “Tell me more,” Kat says.

  “Charlotte says when she’s in uniform, especially in bars, she attracts hotties like taking candy from horny babies—and believe me, Charlotte McDougal has no qualms about taking man-candy from horny babies in very large fistfuls.” I snort.

  “Wow,” Kat marvels, “Charlotte really is my sister-from-another-mister. Too bad I never tried wearing one of my friend’s flight-attendant uniforms to a bar—it sure sounds like it would have been a blast.”

  “Honey, if you’d worn a flight-attendant uniform into a bar, the place would have burst into flames if anyone so much as lit a cigarette.”

  We both laugh.

  “I used to do stuff like that all the time, actually,” Kat says. “Not anymore, of course.” She holds up the massive rock on her finger. “Nowadays, I do all my role-play with Josh.”

  I blush.

  Kat continues, “But back in the day, one of my favorite things to do was go to a bar with my friends to see what outlandish persona I could get some hot guy to believe.”

  “Like what kinds of outlandish personas?”

  “Oh, all sorts. My favorite was Matilda Blackburn from Perth who worked at a crocodile farm. That one always slayed.”

  “Let me hear your Aussie accent,” I say.

  Kat gathers herself for a beat, shakes out her hair, and then says, “G’day, mate. Whaddaya say we ride our emus to Chris Hemsworth’s house and have ourselves some brekkie?”

  I giggle. “Is that your impression of an Australian or a pirate at Disneyland?”

  Kat guffaws at that. “I do it much better when I’m shitfaced.”

  “Of course, you do. What were some of your other personas? This is fascinating.”

  “Sometimes, I said I was a pro tennis player named Olga Slovinskaya from the Czech Republic. That one was fun until this one guy happened to be fluent in Czech. Oh, and when I was feeling extra sassy, I’d sometimes say I’d just escaped from a cult and it was my first time out in a bar.”

  I laugh uproariously. “Well, jeez, honey, after all those crazy scenarios, wearing a flight-attendant uniform to a bar would have been anti-climactic. Believe me, it’s not nearly as thrilling as it sounds.”

  Kat’s face lights up. “Oooh, you’ve done it?”

  My heart leaps into my throat. Shit. Did I just admit that to Kat? “Um.”

  “Aw, come on, sweetie pie, you can tell me,” Kat purrs.
“Have you worn Charlotte McDougal’s flight-attendant uniform to a bar?”

  Aw, fuck it. “Yeah. Once.”

  Kat squeals.

  “Charlotte made me do it.”

  Kat lets out an evil laugh and then mutters under her breath, “Note to self: Call Agent Eric and tell him he’s a piker.”

  “Huh?”

  “Oh, nothing, honey. Now tell me the juicy details about that one crazy time you wore Charlotte’s uniform to a bar. Did you meet any hotties?”

  “Just one—the asshole I told you about earlier. But I don’t want to talk about him.” I throw back the rest of my drink. “In fact, I think I’m gonna go to bed now. We’ve got an exciting day tomorrow and I need to sleep off the rum—and you need to get back to your party.” I give her a quick little squeeze. “Nighty night, Almost-Mrs.-Faraday. Thank you for always being so sweet to me, right from Day One. I truly adore you. You’re my hero.” I turn to leave, intending to sprint away before Kat corners me and asks me any more questions about the asshole I slept with, but she intertwines her arm in mine, keeping me anchored to her side.

  “Hang on, love,” Kat says. “If you’re feeling wobbly, you shouldn’t walk to your room alone. We wouldn’t want you tripping and falling into a koi pond and passing out. I’ll walk you to your room, just to be sure you get there safely.”

  “No, no. I’m just a little wobbly, not shitfaced. And you can’t walk me to my room—this is your party, honey. You’re the reason for the season.”

  “Good point. Then I’ll get Colby to walk you. He won’t mind. The firefighter motto is ‘service before self.’ Oh, wait. Shoot. I keep forgetting about Colby’s leg. Darn it. Well, hmm.” She turns around and scans the party like she’s making an incredibly important decision. She taps the little cleft in her chin. “Well, I certainly can’t ask Keaney to take you—he might hit on you, the horny bastard.”

  I laugh. “No, he won’t. We already feel like brother and sister.”

  “Good. Because he’s the most egregious manwhore who ever lived. Stay the fuck away from that one.”