“We’ll be right there.”
“I will stick my face in the lo mein and eat it like a caveman.”
“Do not eat the lo mein like a caveman. We will be there in less than twenty minutes.”
The best part about having two best friends was there were no questions when one of us was down. I didn’t have to ask. They’d be there. They’d answer the phone. They’d respond to a text and, barring a life-threatening accident, they wouldn’t be two and a half hours late.
I barely heard them come in my apartment. It wasn’t until Sarah plopped down on the floor next to me that I opened my eyes. Thankfully, I never opened that third bottle.
“You okay?”
I rolled my head and rested it on her shoulder. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
“Can I be blunt?”
“I don’t think it’s a good time to be blunt. Caring and understanding. Not blunt,” Caroline said as she settled on my other side and handed me a cup of coffee from my favorite place.
“It’s okay,” I reassured her, “I can take it.” I sipped the strong black coffee and knew sooner rather than later, I’d be perked back up. I didn’t want to be perked back up. I wanted to wallow and woe is me in the dark depths that only sleeping with a married man could bring you.
“How long are you going to keep doing this to yourself?”
“Oh, at least another dozen or so times.”
Caroline was right. I didn’t want to hear what Sarah, the constant voice of reason, had to say.
“He’s married.”
“I am more than aware.” I rolled my eyes and tipped my empty wineglass, hoping to tease out one last drop.
“He’s done this to you more than once. He’s a no-show. Doesn’t call. Doesn’t text.”
“That isn’t fair.” With a bit of latent enthusiasm, I shot forward and pointed a perfectly manicured finger at her. “The last time his mother was in the hospital.”
“And the time before that he was stuck in traffic and the time before that—”
“I think she gets it, Sarah. Just like I think it’s time for you, my dear, to get dressed.”
Caroline stood, scooped her hands under my arms, and pulled me to my feet.
“I am in no shape to go out. I’m drunk.” My point needed a drunk-girl arm flail but I was too tired to attempt it.
“It’s nine o’clock. Since when do two bottles stop you? You’re fine. Besides, if you stay here, you’ll be in a food coma. Jesus”—she walked over to the dining room table—“how much did you order?”
“A lot.”
“Drunk is fine. Drunk and holed up in your apartment crying about a married man who didn’t show up is not. Don’t be silly. We’re just going to Murphy’s. It’s time for target practice.” Sarah winked at Caroline. I had the feeling they’d been planning this for a while.
Target practice. Almost a year ago Caroline’s boyfriend-turned-fiancé of five years broke up with her in the douchiest way imaginable—she walked in on him banging the intern. Needless to say she retreated, hid, gained ten pounds, and became a disheveled mess. Until Sarah and I stepped in and forced her to see herself without Steve. Target Practice: Operation One Night Stand was born. After a few bumps in the road, Caroline ended up with Brian, the bartender who owned Murphy’s Bar. He was supposed to be a rebound, someone to pull her out of her funk. Two weeks ago, they moved in together and bought a dog.
Go figure.
“I don’t need target practice.” I moaned as the girls walked me back to my room.
“You need a distraction,” Sarah piped in.
“Operation Distraction?” Caroline said with too much enthusiasm.
I shook my head and laughed. “Whatever.”
Sarah and Caroline convinced me that night to shower, dress, and head to Murphy’s. They reminded me that they’d warned me numerous times that getting involved with Zac wasn’t the brightest of my ideas and eventually, I had to agree. After much discussion, it was decided that I would choose my target the following week, after, of course, dodging calls and advances from Zac and solidifying the platonic work-only relationship that was probably best but certainly not as fun.
With reluctance, I allowed Sarah to delete Zac’s number from my phone, which would have been the perfect solution did I not work so closely with him. And if he were not the definition of tall, dark, handsome, and fucking sexy as hell.
I just needed to get through the week.
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Welcome
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cocktail Recipes
About the Author
A Preview of OPERATION FOREPLAY
Newsletters
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Christine Hughes
Excerpt from Operation Foreplay copyright © 2015 by Christine Hughes
Cover design by Christine Foltzer
Cover copyright © 2015 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Forever Yours
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First published as an ebook and as a print on demand edition: June 2015
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ISBN: 978-1-4555-8999-9 (ebook edition)
ISBN: 978-1-4555-9094-0 (print on demand edition)
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