A New York Minute

by Ember Leigh

  Admit it. You’ve got a crush.

  Josh was like a cigarette. It was bad for her, could be the death of her someday if she continued it. But she couldn’t get enough of him. It was as if her eyeballs defaulted to his body despite her best efforts—she’d caught her gaze lingering on him far too many times that day, a fact that both embarrassed and titillated her.

  She needed a sauna. There had to be a sauna here somewhere—for God’s sake, she was in Josh Lambert’s wing of a hotel on a remote Hawaiian island. If there wasn’t a sauna she’d turn in a complaint card. In her room she lingered as she undressed, wandering between bathroom and bed as she scanned social media on her iPad and applied various free creams that had shown up magically in the bathroom that morning.

  But finally she changed into a bikini, grabbed a towel, and sauntered toward the spa, feeling almost like a regular person in Hawaii, freshly moisturized and all. Facing the hallway of sauna rooms, she selected the Couples’ Rooms, smiling at the irony. Me and my misery.

  She relaxed against the wooden bench. The steam would do her good, help her start thinking rationally again. Like she used to.

  But ever since she’d been around Josh, she’d been fighting a losing battle.

  She reminded herself he was the one who cancelled her show. He was the bad guy. Rage sparked to life deep in her belly.

  There we go. Don’t forget about that, either. After a moment, a small voice whispered, Or else you’ll never leave this island, never start your own project again.

  The heat seeped into her bones, and her thoughts ground to a halt. Exactly what she needed: Sauna. Quiet. Oblivion.

  She lay half-asleep for a while, basking in the suffocating heat, mind suspended somewhere between a pleasant nothingness and the unsavory reality of her professional life. When the door opened, she jolted awake.

  “Josh.”

  A smile spread across his face. “Don’t sound so happy to see me.”

  “I’m not sure I could ever pair happiness with your name.” She tightened the towel around her chest.

  He sat on the bench across from her, jaw set. And then she noticed—she gulped—he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

  Or pants.

  She crossed her legs tightly. In fact, he was holding a small white towel around his waist, which was dangerously close to falling off. The towel parted at the side of his left thigh, drawing her eyes up the tortuously long line of tan skin until it stopped abruptly, right at his hip.

  Her eyes slid across his naked chest, careening up and down his tanned physique. Oh God. It is better than you imagined. The man had medium chest hair, just as she’d guessed. It was perfect, the exact middle-point between patchy sprinkle and overdose.

  “You don’t mind that I’m here, do you?” He sounded concerned, which surprised her.

  “I guess not,” she said, voice sticking in her throat. “But why did you come in? It’s the couple’s sauna.”

  “Me and my new show,” he said, shrugging. “Why did you come in?”

  She didn’t want to echo that she’d had a similar line of reasoning, and most certainly wouldn’t admit to him that misery had been her companion of choice. Instead, she shrugged.

  A silence settled between them, both amicable and tense. They weren’t fighting, at least. But there was a sexual tension between them so thick Paige thought to excuse herself.

  “Uh, I normally sit in here nude…” He had a wicked smile on his face. “That all right with you?”

  Panic cinched her chest. She needed to run away, far, far away from his gorgeous body and every temptation it provided. Her heart pounded so loud she feared he might hear it. She shrugged, trying to pry her eyes off his body. He can’t be serious. “Whatever.”

  He let go of the skimpy towel, and it crumpled to his sides. He sat with legs parted wide, thighs long and defined, his lower belly impossibly flat with a smattering of dark hair around his—

  Paige ripped her eyes away and fidgeted in her seat, unsure if this was actually happening. She’d been dozing off before he arrived—she might be still dreaming. She pinched herself and it hurt; at the same time her thighs clenched desperately. Her eyes slid back between his legs.

  No way. No freaking way. Josh Lambert was extremely naked in front of her and extremely well hung. Not to mention extremely gorgeous, and extremely fit. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, perpetually uncomfortable. The heat in the sauna was nothing compared to the fire between her legs.

  “You can do the same,” he said, wetting his bottom lip.

  Paige almost melted in the path of his gaze. “I’m not like that,” she said, trying to feign an air of detachment. At the very least she had the steam to blame for any sudden redness in her face or extremities.

  “You’re not comfortable with your body? Come on Paige, you’ve got a killer figure.”

  She swallowed hard, commanding her eyes to stay focused on the doorknob. “I’m quite comfortable with my body. It’s just that…I…”

  “What?” He watched her with a curious light in his eyes, tempting her.

  “I only show it to people who are special to me.” She mentally slapped herself in the face. Special to me? A more prudish response could not have been imagined—and if specialness were the case, the man more than deserved to see her naked body.

  He laughed softly.

  Her eyes darted below his waistline, a tempting glimpse of his soft penis and the pleasant mat of hair framing it. He’s a jerk, and there’s rumors he’s with Bridgette. You don’t want to get messed up with that.

  “If this is making you uncomfortable…” he began.

  “No, it’s fine,” she said, careful not to sound too eager. She’d scream if he covered it up now. “I’ve seen plenty of naked bodies in my lifetime—yours isn’t anything new.”

  Except it was new—for as many good-looking men she’d dated in her college years, and as few hunky hookups she’d had in her adult life, Josh blew them all out of the water. Seeing bodies like these on billboards, magazine ads, and the occasional underwear package didn’t prepare a woman. It was a different beast in real life, three feet away, sweating in a tiny, closed box with an inordinate amount of steam and sexual repression.

  An awkward silence roared to life.

  “I really liked your news segment today,” Josh said. “I guess I should have said that earlier, though.”

  “Thank you. It’s nice to hear that.”

  “You know how good you are.”

  She shrugged. “I think I surprised the crew.”

  “They told me they’d never seen someone so good.”

  She smiled, letting the compliment wrap around her. “It’s nice to hear my talents can be used somewhere.”

  Josh’s eyes commanded her attention away from the doorknob and back onto him. She complied, hesitantly. She couldn’t read him. She wasn’t sure if this was lust, or anger, or something in between, a middle ground she knew far too well.

  “I bet you have a lot of talents.”

  Oh God. He was hitting on her. Joshua freakin’ Lambert was hitting on her. Play along or leave? Maybe I should just feel him up and then bolt.

  “You have no idea.” She couldn’t resist a gorgeous man, no matter how many times she told herself she hated him.

  “I’d like to find out.”

  She cocked her head, her heart rate refusing to resume its normal speed. “Are you coming onto me?”

  “How could you tell?” His eyes narrowed slightly.

  “I don’t mix work and…pleasure.”

  “I don’t normally either, but I’d be willing to make an exception.”

  If she were sane and had any sort of willpower, she’d be leaving by now. But she was glued to her seat, dumbstruck and drooling from the sheer beauty of this man’s naked body and his fearsome power of conviction. Could his cock be singing a siren song? She was very nearly paralyzed as she struggled to respond.

  “Josh, you’re…involved.” It was a test, to see
what really lay between him and Bridgette.

  “Oh yeah? With who?”

  “You’re sleeping with Bridgette. There’s no other way she’d be able to get the job she has.”

  One eyebrow arched. “Is that how you think I work?”

  “Sure, why not? Doesn’t seem like that would be below you.”

  He clenched his jaw. “Glad to know you think so highly of me. But that’s pretty far from the truth. Not like you care.”

  His words hit her like a brick. She didn’t like to think she was being dense. Hard-assed, sure. Intense, fine. But dense? No, she needed to operate on facts. “Well, enlighten me. She promised you her first-born for the job? Or did you owe somebody where you work?”

  He sighed and leaned back into his seat, the sexual tension dissipating with the steam around them. “Do you ever let up?”

  “Not typically.”

  He laughed in spite of the situation. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

  A thick silence settled between them and Paige couldn’t determine which was more intolerable—his continued presence or the throbbing he’d ignited between her legs.

  The silence grew suffocating. As thoughts reverted to his body and all the different ways she’d touch it, she spoke up. “Let’s stick to the bottom line. I’m here to fulfill a contract that I, perhaps stupidly, signed with your company. You and I both know this show is far, far below me, and the second I get the chance to leave this island, I will.

  “In the meantime, I don’t need any distractions, and I don’t need any…” Her cutting speech faltered, and she cursed herself. “Any sexual insinuations from my colleagues.”

  She exercised one last triumph of willpower and stared at him in the face, not even glancing below his waistline. Josh’s mouth was a thin line as she stood. She imagined him disappointed, or maybe embarrassed. Could he feel embarrassment? It didn’t seem like his resume would contain such an emotion, but it didn’t matter to her. Without another word, she left the sauna, head held high.

  Josh Lambert, however attractive and naked and ridiculously sculpted, didn’t have any idea who he was dealing with.

  Chapter Five

  “Josh hit on me,” Paige told David the next morning.

  He gasped, pausing in his application of her powder to gawk at her. “No way.”

  “I fell for it,” she said. “Almost.”

  “That’s rare. Very, very rare.”

  She arched a brow. “You mean he’s not a player?”

  “No way, honey. In fact, he rarely dates. Believe me, I keep updated on his love life. He’s had serious girlfriends here and there, but I think he’s too absorbed in his work to do anything else.”

  I can relate to that. “He doesn’t even just…screw around?”

  “Not that I know of. I wish I knew.” His laughter was staccato. “Boy, wouldn’t that be the day.”

  “I saw him naked yesterday.” Paige’s voice came out a confessional whisper.

  He dropped her lip pencil and gasped, fishing for it on the ground. “What?”

  “He…took off his towel. In the sauna.”

  David looked nothing short of enchanted. “Tell me now, before I beat it out of you.”

  “He was….nice.”

  “A man like that gets more than nice, honey.”

  “All right, he was gorgeous. He was the closest thing to a Playgirl model I’ve ever seen in the flesh. And he’s, well…he’s nicely endowed.”

  David shrieked. “No more. No more. Now I’ll never be able to go near him without ripping his clothes off.”

  “I’m sure he does that to everyone, though.”

  “Not me, obviously.”

  “But it was creepy. Who hits on their coworkers like that? That’s why he has Bridgette. He can get his jollies elsewhere. Besides, I think he gets a hard-on from being an asshole anyway.”

  “So did you hook up with him, then?”

  She laughed, in spite of herself. “No. I have standards, David. It doesn’t matter how pretty he is.”

  He sighed, fluffing her hair and locking eyes with her in the mirror. “It wouldn’t be legal if a guy that gorgeous also had scruples. Trust me, they just don’t exist.”

  Exactly. So why am I still so attracted to him?

  The morning on set proved to be boring. Paige finished her segment in under a half hour, critically analyzed Bridgette’s performance and made sure she knew she was doing it, and avoided, at all costs, Josh.

  By lunch, she had heard the same gaffes from Bridgette enough times to want to jump off the cliff just beyond the hotel property.

  “It’s ridiculous.” She and Gary shuffled through the buffet line at lunch, eyeing their options: stuffed bell peppers or skewered lamb. An exciting array of colorful sauces dotted the periphery. “The only people who will find Bridgette appealing are the viewers who like the monotonous repetition of hyena cackle. Oh, and staring mindlessly at a pair of tits. Other than that, she’s worthless.”

  “So I take it you’re enjoying the show?” Josh sidled in between her and Gary and grinned, picking up a biscuit.

  “Enjoying?” Paige rolled her eyes. “I would use a different word.”

  “You know her objections,” Gary said.

  “I sure do.” His wicked grin widened. “I have to say, you’re not the only one who deserves to have a host position. Others have to start out somewhere. I thought you might have more tolerance for the situation, but apparently you forgot what it was like to be a beginner.”

  Paige glared at him. A million retorts swirled in her head, but none felt strong enough. Besides, images of his dick flashed through her mind, searing the soft flesh of her brain. She might never forget the moment when that towel crumpled away from him. She kept her mouth shut, amping up her glare until the smug bastard wandered off.

  “He had a point,” Gary said once they were alone. “It’s just that it was partially voided by the fact that Bridgette is the worst beginner I’ve ever seen. She’s an all right host, in most ways. Well, let’s say tolerable. But she’s definitely not you.”

  They wandered over to the table reserved for the cast and crew of Wakin’ Up. She groaned when she saw the last two remaining seats—directly across from Josh and Bridgette.

  She sat down stiffly, thankful Gary was at her side so she could stare at him intently during a conversation she was seconds away from inventing.

  Lunch began quietly, crewmembers murmuring among themselves, copies of scripts being passed over barely-eaten plates. It was hard to ignore the pair across the table. David might have kept tabs on Josh’s love life, but the way Bridgette behaved suggested a different version of the story. Paige glanced at Gary, making secret eyes toward Josh and Bridgette. Gary nodded discreetly, gagging behind his biscuit.

  Bridgette giggled. “Joshi…” She slapped his wrist playfully in response to something he’d said. “Don’t be bad.” She draped herself over his shoulder like she was a mink shawl on his night on the town.

  Paige glanced up and caught Josh’s eye. He looked irritated. Trapped. She started to grin but caught herself. There will be none of that.

  An idea occurred to her as she cut up the stuffed bell pepper. She would attempt to clear the air between herself and Bridgette. She took a sip of sparkling water. Yeah. Bridgette didn’t deserve the accolades, but she would go on the record for trying. “Bridgette.”

  Darkly lidded eyes swept to her, chilling the air in their wake. “What?”

  “I think you’ve been coming along nicely.”

  Bridgette stared at her.

  “You’re going to be good,” Paige added, in a tone closely resembling friendly. With a lot of work.

  Bridgette’s eyes narrowed. “Compared to who? You?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Are you the gold standard in the industry?”

  Her words rocked her to her core. Bridgette had a snarky side, but this was uncalled for. She’d had it out for her since the second she met her. What sort of
unrelenting cattiness was that? And worse yet…from a newbie, a first-timer. If she wanted to take it there, Paige was game.

  “Maybe to some,” she said with a cool smile. “All I’m saying is, if you want to get anywhere in this business, you could stand to act a little humble. You might have a pleasant set-up for this show, but future gigs might not be so appreciative of your superiority act.”

  “Like you, right? Humble Paige.” Bridgette’s voice was even and calm but her words were like razors.

  “I’ve had considerable experience.” She sipped at her water, seeing white behind her eyes. The rest of the table had grown quiet, listening to their exchange with wide eyes and forks paused halfway to mouths. “Unlike you.”

  “Not enough, it seems,” Bridgette continued. “Your show was cancelled. Couldn’t have been that good, right? Maybe you need some more experience.”

  Those are fighting words. Paige slammed her glass down and stood up to face her opponent, leaning over the table at her. “Don’t you dare come at me like you think you have any idea about what it takes to succeed in this world.”

  She accentuated her words with finger jabs. “You could work until you’re sixty and not have the experience that I do, Bridgette. My show might have been cancelled, but it certainly wasn’t because I was a ditzy blonde host who laughed like a hyena every five goddamn seconds.”

  Gary and Josh rose from their seats, attempting to clear the air between the girls, shushing them and batting away the issue.

  “Come on, calm down,” Gary said, nudging Paige.

  “I won’t calm down, Gary, not when a novice is trying to act like she knows anything about this business.”

  Bridgette’s eyes flashed and Paige clenched her fists, preparing to defend herself in the event that Bridgette might leap across the table, or, perhaps more probably, spit fire at her.