The Seduction Request

The doorbell rang and she rose from her seat, grabbing the ten-dollar bill for the pizza from the coffee table on her way to the door. Money in hand, she pulled the door open, but it wasn’t the pizza guy standing outside her apartment. It was Matt.

And she’d be damned if her traitorous heart didn’t lift a little at the sight of him. That cocky grin he always wore told her he was up to no good.

She leaned on the doorjamb, trying her best to look annoyed while her lips itched to return the smile. His hair was damp, his chin freshly shaved, and the clean scent of soap and shampoo begged “notice me!” Drops of rain spotted his muscle shirt, drawing her attention to the impressive width of his shoulders and the definition in his biceps and arms.

Something hot and feminine stirred deep inside her.

She conjured up her best annoyed voice. “Are you stalking me?”

From behind his back he produced a large pizza. “If you won’t come to dinner with me, I bring dinner to you.”

“I’m not hungry,” she lied, and as if on cue, her stomach gave a hollow moan.

“Your stomach disagrees.” Matt lifted the lid and peeked inside. “Pepperoni, sausage, bacon—you sure you don’t want a slice?”

“How did you know…wait a minute, that’s my pizza! You rat! You stole my dinner.”

The grin widened, his dimple winking adorably. “I paid for it, so it is technically mine now. But I’d be willing to share it with you.”

“Is there anything you won’t do to get what you want?”

“That depends on what I want.” The simmering look in his eyes, his smoldering tone, warmed her all the way through to her bones. He didn’t even seem to be doing it on purpose. It was as if oozing sex appeal came naturally. Effortlessly.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “How did you even know where I live?”

“CIA.”

“That’s very funny.”

“It’s classified. If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.”

She glared at him, tapping her foot.

“All right, I asked your brother.” He lifted the box lid. “Hmm, smells delicious.”

Her mouth watered as the scent wafted her way. She’d skipped lunch so she was beyond starving and there was next to nothing edible in the refrigerator.

“Another minute and you’re going to be drooling, Em.”

This was so unfair. He knew how much she loved pizza.

“Fine, you can stay.” She stepped back and held the door open. Only then did she realize she was wearing her baggy pajama bottoms and the University of Michigan T-shirt with the paint splatters on the front. Like he would even notice.

Or care.

Matt stepped inside, gazing around her one-room flat.

“It’s small, but I like it that way,” she automatically explained. She had no idea why she felt the need to justify her living conditions to him. Although it might have had something to do with her mother’s constant, “Why don’t you get a real apartment, Emily,” or “If you can’t afford a decent place to live, why don’t you move back home with us?” As if that would ever happen. Emily would be hauled away in a straitjacket inside of a week.

“I have closets bigger than this,” Matt said, then cringed and added, “I didn’t mean that like it sounded. I’m just thinking how ridiculous it is that I have so much stuff I need closets the size of an apartment.”

He looked so disturbed by the idea, she had to wonder if maybe he wasn’t quite as egotistical as she’d thought. Or maybe he was only pretending to be like the old Matt. The question was, why? What could he possibly want from her? Was it possible that he really did want to be her friend?

“When I signed my first pro deal, I had money for the first time in my life,” Matt said. “I swear all I did that first year was buy stuff. I guess I just never throw anything away.”

“I feel your pain. It must have been real rough having all that money to spend.”

“You’d be surprised.” His eyes darkened with some emotion she couldn’t identify, and she had the sudden impression she’d dredged up something he didn’t want to confront. She couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

Probably bad.

She grabbed paper plates and napkins from the kitchenette and opened the fridge. “I suppose you’ll want something to drink.”

“Whatever you’ve got,” he said, looking around as if he wasn’t sure where to put the food.

“I usually eat at the coffee table, so I can see the game.” And because it happened to be the only table she owned.

“Still a sports fan, huh?” He set the pizza down and sat on the love seat.

She grabbed two beers. “To my parents’ dismay. My mother is always trying to drag me to Junior League meetings and Tupperware parties, when I’d rather stay home and watch the game with Ty and my dad.”

She set the beers, napkins and plates on the table and sat next to him. Matt served them each a slice of pizza. Somehow the love seat felt a lot smaller with him sitting on it. They were so close, she could feel the heat of his thigh where it almost touched her own.

Though it was eons ago, she still remembered what it felt like to be close to him. To feel those hard planes of muscle in his chest and stomach, his weight pressing her into the cool sand. Being with Matt had been everything she’d ever imagined—more than she’d ever hoped for. It had scared her as much as it thrilled her. And the tenderness he’d shown her had been completely unexpected. Foolishly she’d thought that meant he loved her.

After all they’d been through together, when all was said and done, she’d been nothing but a conquest to him. All those years of friendship had meant nothing. And now, with all that money he couldn’t spend fast enough, she was sure he’d also raised his standards. She was the same unfeminine, in-your-face-girl she’d been back in high school. She hadn’t been good enough for him before, and she certainly wouldn’t be now, even if she wanted to be. Which she absolutely did not.

“Ty mentioned that you have a boyfriend. My being here won’t bother him?” Matt asked.

Boyfriend. Now there’s a term she used rather loosely. It wasn’t as if she’d actually told her parents she and Alex were anything but good friends. They’d assumed, and she’d never set them straight.

“No, he wouldn’t mind. He’s not the jealous type.” Not when it came to women, anyway. Not only was Alex not her significant other, he was very gay. Flaming at times.

Matt looked down, suddenly enthralled by his pizza. “I’d like to meet him. You should bring him around the restaurant some time.”

Emily almost laughed. “You still can’t lie worth a damn, Conway.”

His head shot up, a combination of guilt and surprise on his face.

“My brother can’t stand Alex. And he probably told you that. So I seriously doubt you’re all that jazzed about meeting him.”

“You work with him?”

“His mother owns the nursery.”

Matt gazed around the apartment. Considering her living conditions, this guy obviously wasn’t paying her enough. What furniture she did have looked hand-me-down, and with the exception of the twenty or so plants hanging throughout the apartment, it was sparsely decorated. No art hanging on the walls. No photos.

Ty hadn’t been exaggerating. This boyfriend of Emily’s did sound like a jerk. Abandoning Emily and leaving her to run his mother’s company while he was out partying was pretty low. And with a girlfriend as attractive as Emily, how could the guy not be jealous when she invited other men into her apartment? If Emily were Matt’s girlfriend, she wouldn’t be hanging out with other men. And she wouldn’t be living in a matchbox. She would have the best of everything—anything her heart desired.