Crazy, Stupid Sex

The guy she was talking to seemed willing to overlook the awkward. At least for now. Probably because the girl had a fine rack on her, at least it seemed that way from his vantage point.

Might be one of those lying gel bras. False advertising at its most insidious.

And now her shoe was off. And her weirdness officially trumped her rack. The guy she was talking to was zoned out now, his gaze on the blonde across the room.

Caleb had assessed the blonde already. She was boring. She wasn’t awkward, but there was nothing special about her. Her legs were nice, but he’d had a lot of blondes with nice legs. He could see exactly how the night would go. He could take her back to his place, take her to his room. She’d wrap those legs around him and they’d both work their way to orgasm, while the blonde did her best not to sweat her makeup off.

He liked the ending, but the journey just didn’t excite him much.

Damn. Sex was starting to get boring. He really did need a hobby. One beyond picking up women in bars, apparently.

The redhead wasn’t boring. She was weird. But she wasn’t boring. Sex with her? He couldn’t predict that. And that interested him.

Caleb got up from his table and walked across the bar, his eyes on her. She was trying to get her shoe back on now, and she was oblivious to the fact that she’d lost her audience.

She looked up, her hair spilling over her shoulders, all glossy and sexy, her lips drawn into a pout.

For the first time since he’d seen her, hot surpassed weird as his primary descriptor. Her eyes were still on the guy who was now very much trying not to look at her. He’d never seen a woman as pretty as her strike out so hard so many times in a row.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

She looked up and her eyes went wide. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“I had one.”

“Only one?” he asked. He’d sort of imagined she was a little tipsy. If she was sober then she was extra weird.

“Yeah, just the one. I didn’t want to get drunk.”

“No, I can see why you wouldn’t,” he said.

“I was talking to Jeff here,” she said, looking back at the man who was no longer looking at her.

“You were done talking to Jeff,” Caleb said. “Or rather, I think he was done talking to you.”

“I think he’s playing hard to get,” she said, arching a brow.

“I think he can hear you,” Caleb said.

The woman stepped away from the bar and lowered her voice. “Well, he was.”

“Men don’t play hard to get,” Caleb said. “Men want to have sex. Every guy in here by himself wants to have sex tonight. Hell, every guy in here with a woman wants to have sex tonight, their odds just aren’t as good as the guys who are alone.”

“You think so?”

“I know so, Evie.”

She frowned. “How do you know my name?”

“Evie, Evie James, you’ve introduced yourself very loudly to several men in here since I walked in. I observed.”

“Well…I…I…that’s just annoying,” she said. “Eavesdropping, I mean. Eavesdropping is annoying.”

“This is where you ask my name,” he said.

“I’m not sure it is.”

“Yes, it’s polite. Caleb Anderson. And your pickup techniques aren’t working.”

“I’m doing research,” she said, her tone sharp. “For an app.”

“An app?” he asked, interested now.

“I’m an app developer, that’s what I do.”

“See? That’s interesting. Your heel blisters aren’t.”

Freckled cheeks turned deep red. “But they hurt.”

“Sorry. Want me to rub ointment on it?”

“Having a man rub ointment on your feet is nowhere in the guidelines.”

“Guidelines?”

“I have these guidelines. I’m using them to make the app. For Flirt magazine. Yeah. That one. Maybe you’ve heard of it. It’s like…a big deal.”

Now, that was a twist he couldn’t have predicted. But then, this was the hangout for people who worked in that arena. Which he knew, not because he did, but because it was a good place to pick up businesswomen who wanted to blow off steam.

He knew the magazine well. One of the many glossy-paged ponies in his father’s media stable. It had been enlightening to him as a teenage boy discovering women.

It had been like being behind enemy lines.

Part of the empire that would have been Jill’s. Now it would be his someday as the sole surviving heir. He didn’t like to think about it much anymore. And the connection almost sent him walking back the other way.

He didn’t need any emotional baggage; he just needed a little fun.

But Evie James was interesting. And the desire to be interested was stronger than the desire to turn away.

“The women’s magazine with all the sex tips?”

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s the one.” She leaned in, one eyebrow arching. “And I’ve been reading up.”

Evie was starting to wonder if she really was drunk. A feeling of desperation was making her behave like an ass, and she knew it, and now this guy was talking to her. This guy who didn’t even look like he could possibly be real.

He looked like he’d stepped off the pages of some business magazine. Perfectly cut suit, expensive watch and shoes. And his haircut had not cost eight dollars.