Dirty Thoughts - Megan Erickson Page 0,94
trying to be one.
He turned to her and leaned his ass against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I help you?”
She blinked, long lashes fluttering over her big blue eyes. “Can you help me?”
“Yeah, we’re full service here.” He resisted winking. That was kinda sleazy.
Her eyes widened for a fraction before they shifted to Alex at his side and then back to him. Her eyes darkened for a minute, her tongue peeked out between those red lips, and then she straightened. “No, you can’t help me.”
He leaned forward. “Really? You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Like, how positive?
“I’m 100 percent positive that I do not need help from you, Brent Payton.”
That made him pause. She knew his name. He knew he’d never met her, so that could only mean that she heard about him somehow, and by the look on her face, it was nothing good.
Well, shit.
He opened his mouth, not sure what to say but hoping it would come to him, when Alex began cracking up next to him, slapping her thighs and snorting.
Brent glared at her. “And what’s your problem?”
Alex stepped forward, threw her arm around the shoulder of the prickly but hot-as-hell woman in front of them, and smiled ear to ear. “Brent, meet my sister, Ivy. Ivy, thanks for making me proud.”
They were both smiling now, that same full-lipped, white-teethed smile. He surveyed Alex’s face, then Ivy’s, and holy fuck, how had he not noticed this right away? They almost looked like twins.
And the sisters were looking at him now, wearing matching smug grins, and wasn’t that a total cock-block. He pointed at Alex. “What did you tell your sister about me?”
“That the day I interviewed, you asked me to recreate a Whitesnake music video on the hood of a car.”
He threw up his hands. “Can you let that go? You weren’t even my first choice. I wanted Cal’s girlfriend to do it.”
“Because that’s more appropriate,” Alex said drily.
“Excuse me for trying to liven it up around here.”
Ivy turned to her sister, skirt swirling around those thighs he might sell his soul to touch. She held up the paper bag. “I brought lunch. Hope that’s okay.”
“Of course it is,” Alex said. “Thanks a lot, since someone stole my breakfast.” She narrowed her eyes at Brent. Ivy turned to him slowly in disbelief, like she couldn’t believe he was that evil.
Brent had had a lot of bad first impressions in his life. A dad of one of his high school girlfriend’s had seen Brent’s bare ass—while Brent was lying on top of his daughter—before the dad ever saw Brent’s face. That had not gone over well. And yet this first impression might be even worse.
Because he didn’t care about what that girl’s dad thought of him. Not really.
And he didn’t want to care about what Ivy thought of him, but dammit, he did. It bothered the hell out of him that she’d written him off before even meeting him. Did Alex tell her any of his good qualities? Like . . . Brent racked his brain for good qualities.
By the time he thought of one, the girls had already disappeared to the back room for lunch.
About the Author
MEGAN ERICKSON grew up in a family that averages five foot five on a good day and started writing to create characters who could reach the top kitchen shelf.
She’s got a couple of tattoos, has a thing for gladiators, and has been called a crazy cat-lady. After working as a journalist for years, she decided she liked creating her own endings better and switched back to fiction.
She lives in Pennsylvania with her husband, two kids, and two cats. And no, she still can’t reach the stupid top shelf.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
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