Flirting with Temptation - By Kelley St. John Page 0,77
think any female can commit to anything.”
“Hell, I wouldn’t say it about all females. But . . .”
“But you’d say it about me.”
He started to answer, but then a crowd gathering ahead of them caught his eye, as did the surfer running directly toward them.
“Hey, are you here to enter?” he asked Babette.
Babette blinked, looked past him and saw a large stage in front of the crowd, and the sign above that stage.
BIKINI CONTEST. $1000 TOP PRIZE.
“I don’t think so,” she said.
“Oh, come on. There’s no preparation involved. You’re already dressed for it. First prize is a thousand bucks, but second gets five hundred and third gets two-fifty,” the guy urged. “And I bet you could work those judges too. That’s more of what it takes, you know, than other stuff.”
Whether he intended to or not, his attention skittered past her breasts, and Babette felt her cheeks redden. This was turning out to be a splendid day. First she’d found out that Jeff had wanted her for more than just sex last year, and that because she’d turned him down, he’d been vulnerable to a Kitty on the prowl. And now this surfer dude insulted her boobs, and she didn’t need anyone reminding her that they were virtually nonexistent; and more than that, he did it in front of Jeff.
Yep, a splendid day.
“I’m not interested,” she repeated, but Jeff was withdrawing a rolled up wad of cash from the waist pocket of his swimsuit.
“How much is the entry fee?”
Surfer guy’s grin broadened as he checked out the cash, still damp from their romp in the waves, in Jeff’s palm. “Fifty bucks.”
“What are you doing?” Babette asked, watching in disbelief as Jeff forked over the money. “I’m not entering. I don’t stand a chance, and I’m not in the mood to embarrass myself royally in front of a crowd.”
She wasn’t in the mood for much of anything at the moment. She was frustrated. Frustrated with the fact that she’d let him go last year, frustrated that she had to get him back with Kitty this year—and she did have to get him back, or she’d prove she couldn’t commit, wouldn’t she?—and frustrated that this surfer guy insulted her tits.
She. Was. Frustrated.
And Jeff was smiling.
“What is that look for?” she asked.
“Thanks, dude. Hey, what’s your name? I’ll go sign you up,” the guy asked Babette.
“I’m not entering,” she repeated, sternly.
“Babette Robinson,” Jeff said, and continued grinning as he watched the guy jog back through the sand to the small sign-in table near the stage.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, glaring.
“He said he thought you looked like you could work the judges.”
“He said that because he didn’t think I had the ‘other stuff’ it took to place. And like I told him, I’m not interested.”
“No, but I am. I’m interested in seeing if you can place in this contest without working the judges.”
Realization dawned. “I’d have to flirt to place,” she hissed, mad now. He was also insinuating that she couldn’t win this thing without flirting, because she didn’t have the “other stuff” required. “And if I flirted, I’d lose your challenge, and you wouldn’t talk to Kitty.” And he’d believe, once again, that she couldn’t commit.
He didn’t answer, but simply stood there, turquoise eyes examining her every move, every breath. And damn it, she felt desire stir even now, when she wanted to pummel him.
“You said you wanted to see if I can place,” she said, anger driving her forward as she formulated her own plan. “What if I do better?”
One corner of his mouth crooked up. “Do better?”
“What do I get if I win, without flirting?”
His eyes sparkled. “As long as it has nothing to do with Kitty, you can have whatever you want.”
Whatever she wanted. That caused her to pause for a moment, made her almost blurt out the first thing she thought, which was that she wanted him, now. But that was ridiculous. He was trying to bait her, make her lose his challenge and prove that she couldn’t commit. Wasn’t going to happen.
“Do you have plans tomorrow night?”
He blinked, and she knew she’d caught him off guard. Good. “Tomorrow night?”
“Yes. Do you have plans?”
He tilted his head as though thinking, then answered, “Actually, I do, but—”
“Cancel them.”
Those blue eyes widened. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Because if I win—no, when I win—I want a full day’s reprieve from your little flirt challenges. And then tomorrow night, I want you to come to my condo.”