Angela let out a loud gasp. “No. You’re kidding!”
Diane gave her friend a dry look. “No, I’m not.”
“What did he say?” Looking fascinated by the topic, Angela lifted her teacup to her mouth.
“He, um.” Diane’s thumb worried the lip of her cup. “He offered to help me with the items on my list.”
Angela sputtered and sprayed liquid out through her nose. Choking, she pounded on her chest.
“Are you okay?” Diane half rose from her seat.
Angela held up a hand and motioned Diane back toward her seat. She coughed for a few more moments before clearing her throat and practically yelling, “He did what?”
Silverware clinked, and the weight of several gazes landed on their table. Diane felt her cheeks warm.
“Hush,” she said in a loud whisper. “You’re making a scene.”
“I’m making a scene?” Angela shouted.
“Shh,” Diane urged her.
Angela looked around and seemed to come to her senses. Lifting her napkin to wipe her mouth, she leaned forward and repeated in a harsh whisper, “You just told me that Sam Everly, infamous Manhattan playboy and sex god, not to mention the brother of your ex, wants to do the dirty with you, and I’m the one who’s making a scene?”
When she put it that way…
Diane winced. “Sorry.”
Angela shook her head and carelessly dropped the napkin onto the table, reaching across the space to snatch Diane’s hand in hers. “Forget it. What did you tell him?”
“What do you think? I told him no. That it was a horrible idea.”
Proving herself to be more insightful than your average person, Angela gave her a long look. “Is that really what you think, though?”
“Of course it is,” Diane whispered, feeling the heat creep back to her cheeks.
The expression on Angela’s face told Diane she wasn’t quite convinced.
“What do you think of Sam Everly?” Angela pressed.
What was there to think? He was tall and handsome, with a lean, muscled body, dark hair that he liked to wear tousled as if he’d just rolled out of bed, and a bright blue gaze that could stare right through you, giving the impression he was making love to you with his eyes.
“I think he’s Andrew’s little brother,” Diane snapped.
Angela’s brows furrowed and she shook her head. “Uh-uh, you’re not deflecting that easily. What do you think of the man himself, irrespective of his family?”
“He’s a…guy.”
Letting out an exasperated sigh, Angela released her hand. “Well, I’ll tell you what I think about him. He’s sexy as hell. Have you seen his rear in those torn jeans he likes to wear?”
She might have noticed once or twice when their paths had crossed at social events.
The waiter arrived with their food, saving Diane from having to provide an immediate response. The moment he left, Angela picked up her fork and dug into her salad, longingly glancing at Diane’s plate of steaming pasta the whole while.
“He’s nothing like Andrew, you know. Andrew is all business, all the time.”
“I know,” Diane murmured as she dug into her bowl of minestrone. At least, he used to be. Although part of Diane couldn’t help but be bitter at the fact that he’d dumped her for another woman—now his fiancé—she objectively recognized what a good match they were. He seemed far happier now that Hailey was in his life.
“I only know Sam on a social level,” Angela said, “but from what I’ve seen of him, he couldn’t be more opposite to Andrew. He’s carefree and fun and impulsive. Maybe that’s exactly what you need right now.”
Her words prompted Diane to look up from her soup. “Are you crazy?”
“Think about it. You wanted an illicit affair, right? What could be more illicit than someone you could never see yourself ending up with? And the brother of your ex to boot? Don’t tell me you haven’t at least thought about living out that revenge fantasy?”
She had a point.
“He did mention something to that effect before he left,” she admitted.
“He did?” Angela’s lips curved into an impish smile. “You’re actually thinking about doing it, aren’t you?”
Diane remembered the whisper of Sam’s breath along her neck when he murmured into her ear right before walking away. It had aroused a tremor of sexual awareness that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Certainly never with his straight-laced brother.
Plus, he didn’t seem put off by some of the racier items on her list.
Play slave to his master.
Images of her doing just that popped into her head. A shiver ran through her spine.
Did he have it in him to play those sorts of games? To be the master she so secretly craved in the bedroom?
She was surprised to realize she was curious to find out.
“I don’t know,” she finally murmured.
But something told her she was going to think of nothing else for the considerable future.
***
Back in his Soho loft that he’d converted into part apartment, part studio, Sam stood in front of an easel, trying to forge the whirlwind of emotions within him into some semblance of art. It was no use, though. All he had were messy swirls of purple and red.
He was beyond distracted today.
Part of him was stressed about the global expansion his company was undergoing. Though he tried to think of the family business as little as possible, the truth was, he loved his brothers and wanted them to be happy. Growing the business was important to Andrew, and Sam didn’t want to let his oldest brother down.
Not that he’d ever let him know that. He lived to rib his brothers, Andrew especially. It was just so damn easy.
When Andrew had called him earlier to remind him of the board meeting tomorrow morning, Sam had joked that he might show up. He’d be there, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Going in to the Everly Publications office always reminded him of his late father, and that wasn’t a good thing. He’d never understood the man. And considering how often his father had told him, in a derogatory tone, how much like his mother he was, he gathered the feeling had been mutual.
Well, if he was going into the glass and steel tomb his father had built tomorrow, that meant he’d be getting drunk tonight.
Abandoning his brush and easel, he stalked over to the large windows looking out onto the streets and dug out his phone. Odds were Zoey would be manning the bar tonight at Beringer’s, the pub she and her twin brother Zach co-owned. He could always count on Zach to meet him for a few drinks, to be his wingman when he spotted a chick worth pursuing.
He’d just started to flip through his phone for Zach’s number, when it rang. It was a New York number, and one he didn’t recognize.
Immediately, he thought of Diane Milstrom, and his heart skipped a beat. He could say he hadn’t thought much about her in the past few days, but that would be a total lie. After he’d left her in the ballroom, he’d run through that list of hers over and over in his mind. Played out every last one of the things she’d written. He’d jacked himself off to those images more than he cared to admit.
But when a few days had passed without hearing from her, he’d concluded that the list was just the ramblings of an upset girl who’d had way too much to drink. No doubt writing out those fantasies had been cathartic to her in some way, but they would never become reality. So he’d forced himself to dismiss thoughts of Diane from his head.
Could this actually be her? Could he be so fucking lucky?
Willing his racing heart to calm down enough for him to hold an intelligible conversation, he answered. “Hello?”
“Hi,” her soft voice said. “Is this Sam?”
He grinned at the sound of her voice, only barely resisting the urge to pump his fist in the air. “The one and only.”
“Oh, um…it’s Diane. Diane Milstrom.”
His grin widened as he leaned a palm against his window,
absently taking in the view of the falling snow outside. “What can I do for you, Diane Milstrom?”
There was silence on the other end, and for a moment, he feared she’d chickened out and hung up. But then she spoke.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” she murmured. “About helping me out with my list.”
Despite the fact that he’d expected—no, hoped—she’d say such a thing, it still surprised him. His body went into immediate action, his cock hardening and pressing against the fly of his jeans.
“Yeah?” he said, without bothering to hide the husky interest in his voice. “What do you think about it?”
“I think I’d like to discuss it further.”
His smile died. She wanted to…talk about it? Talk wasn’t quite what he’d envisioned.
“What exactly is there to talk about?” What he’d proposed seemed pretty simple to him. She wanted to be bad, and he wanted to help her.
She didn’t respond, but he could practically feel her scowling through the phone.
His brain kicked into gear, warning him to stop being an asshole. If a good girl was considering going bad, and was thinking about using him to do it, he should talk as much as she wanted until she said the magic word: yes.
“I was thinking of going to Beringer’s Pub later tonight,” he said. “Would you like to meet me there to talk about it?”
“Beringer’s Pub?”
“It’s over in the West Village. Or we can meet somewhere else—”
“Its fine,” she interrupted. “I know the place. It’s owned by Zoey Beringer, right?”
“Her and her twin brother, Zach,” he clarified. Their parents hated the place, and hated even more that Zoey lowered herself to working behind the bar whenever the family’s real estate business allowed it. “Meet me there at eight.”
There was a pause, and then she said in a measured tone, “Okay.”
“Oh, and Diane?”
“Yes?” Her tone was hesitant.
Sam lowered his voice to a purr. “Wear something sexy.”
There was a soft gasp of sound on the other end, and then the call disconnected.
More than a little turned on, Sam pulled the phone back to stare at it. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that last thing. If he’d scared her away, he was going to kick himself. But it needed to be said.
This wasn’t a social visit, and they weren’t friendly enough to merit that at any rate. This was a straight-up booty call negotiation. If she was going to decide she didn’t want that, better she did it now, before they got in any deeper…and he got any hornier.
He saved her number into his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. As he turned his eyes back toward the snow that drifted to the ground outside his window, he couldn’t help but wonder at the fact that a woman who’d been firmly under his radar mere days ago was now starting to worm her way under his skin.
Back when Andrew had been dating Diane, Sam had noticed how good-looking she was, but her soft and quiet demeanor, not to mention the way she seemed to idolize her father, had dulled her attractiveness in his eyes. She’d seemed like another rich daddy’s girl, one of the multitude he’d known growing up.
Yawn.
While he objectively knew she was still the same person, still that good little girl, he couldn’t help but be intrigued by what he’d learned about her. Because some base instinct told him that if Diane decided she really did want to go bad…
It would be very, very good.
Chapter Three
At half past eight, Sam sat on a stool inside Beringer’s Pub, absently sliding his empty whiskey glass along the countertop. Given the unexpected phone call earlier in the day, he hadn’t ended up calling Zach after all, so he had no one to keep him company other than Zoey. Since she was busy manning the bar, it meant he was pretty much drinking alone.
He gave a bitter twist of his lips.
Good thing I don’t care about that.
Zoey stopped in front of him, holding a bottle of his favorite whiskey. She gave him a curious look as she poured some into the empty glass. “What’s with the long face?”
“Nothing.” Only that he was pretty sure he was being stood up.
Stupid. Had he really expected anything else?
“I’m surprised Zach didn’t meet you out here.”
He shrugged but didn’t bother telling her he hadn’t called him. She would only ask why.
One of Zoey’s dark brows quirked. “Normally, you’d be chatting up some chick by now. Have you even noticed that group of girls partying over there?”
Sam followed her gaze to where several women stood at the other end of the bar, sucking down mixed drinks. They were clearly on the prowl. Every now and again they would break out into random sexy dances that were designed to attract the opposite sex.
She was right. Normally he’d be all over that. But tonight, all he could think about was blonde hair, green eyes, one perfect set of tits, and a very naughty To-Do list.
“Not feeling it, I guess.”
Zoey smirked and opened her mouth to respond, but then she glanced over his head and a surprised “Huh” escaped her lips.
“What?” he asked, more because it was expected of him than out of actual curiosity.
“Look who just wandered in.”
He turned, and froze when he saw the long, wavy locks of blonde hair.
Diane stood at the entrance, the imperial lift of her chin a stark contrast to the uncertain look on her face. She wore a black coat that fell to mid-calf and only served to emphasize her light hair and eyes.
Her eyes wandered about the room until she saw him. Her lips parted, as if she were sucking in a breath, and then she set her shoulders and headed toward him.
Zoey’s suspicious voice sounded out. “Why is she headed this way like she’s supposed to be here right now?”
“Because,” he answered absently.
“Oh, no.”
The note of judgment in her tone prompted Sam to tear his gaze from Diane.
Zoey gave him a dark scowl. “Tell me she’s not here to meet you.”
“I could, but it’d be a lie,” he answered with a smooth grin.
A harsh sigh escaped her and she frowned at him. “Are you seriously messing around with your brother’s ex?”
Lifting his glass, he took a sip of the smooth whiskey Zoey had filled it with. “I’m thinking about it.”
Her brows furrowed. “I thought you hated the spoiled, rich girl type.”
“I think they might be growing on me,” he quipped. “Besides, I like you, don’t I?”
Zoey’s eyes narrowed into annoyed little slits. If there was anything she hated, it was to be lumped together with the rich socialites they both disdained. Even though, technically speaking, she was one of them. “Watch it, chump.”
He let out a soft chuckle, then decided to confide in her a bit. Zoey and Zach were practically family, and if there were anyone besides his brothers he could trust, it was them.
“Word has it she’s tired of being daddy’s little girl. Looking to break a few rules. I thought I could help her out in that department.”
Her eyes sparkled all judgy-like, but all she said was, “Be careful, Sam. She’s not like the girls you normally mess around with. Someone’s heart could get broken.”
Of that he was well aware. It was one of the reasons he’d been okay with meeting Diane here to discuss her list. He needed to be sure they both knew exactly where they stood. Because the sort of arrangement he had in mind…well, hearts had no place in it.
“Got it, sergeant,” he drawled.
Zoey gave him one last warning glance before looking somewhere behind him. When her lips curved into a sugary smile, he knew Diane had arrived. No mistaking that phony sweet look the elite saved for each other.
“Diane, what a lovely surprise,” Zoey murmured.
Sam whirled on his stool to hit Diane with the force of his gaze, but she held her poise well, barely e
ven sparing a glance in his direction. Instead, she answered Zoey with well-groomed politeness. “Nice to see you. This is a charming place you have.”
“Welcome.” Zoey’s voice dripped with hospitality. “What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll have a Chablis—”
“Whiskey.” When both sets of eyes flew to him, Sam said, “She’ll have what I’m having.”
Puzzlement twisted Zoey’s features and she gave Diane a questioning look. But when Diane hesitated, then gave a curt nod, Zoey said, “Coming right up,” and strode away.
Diane’s eyes landed on him then. Almost hesitantly, as if she hadn’t quite decided what to make of him yet. A soft blush stained her porcelain cheeks and she murmured, “I don’t drink whiskey.”
“Tonight’s a night for firsts, isn’t it?”
She seemed to catch his drift because her blush darkened. Rather than responding, she unbuttoned her coat and slipped it off, then carefully set it onto an empty barstool beside him.
Sam stifled a chuckle when he saw what she wore beneath the coat. He’d told her to dress sexy. If this was how she defined the word, they were in for a lot of work. She wore a white silk pantsuit with flowing sleeves and a low-cut neckline. The outfit reeked of class and elegance.
Then again, the neckline was cut so low it fell practically to her navel, highlighting the full, round globes hugged by the thin fabric.
Hmm…maybe not so bad, after all.
Her gaze followed his, and she apparently read his mind because her shoulders stiffened and she said, “It was the best I could do on such short notice.”
“I’m not complaining,” he murmured. Besides, he was beginning to suspect she could wear a leather halter mini-dress and still look classy and elegant.
Zoey returned with Diane’s drink, plunking it onto the counter beside Sam.
“Thank you,” Diane murmured to her.
“No problem.” Zoey’s eyes burned into the back of Sam’s head, but when he refused to glance her way, she finally strode away. He didn’t need to see the censure on his friend’s face to know what she was thinking. That this was a bad idea.
[EB03] Bad Girls Do Page 3