The Little Black Dress (Love in Las Vegas)

“No. And you’re cut off, young lady,” I say.

“Nope,” she shouts, snatching her drink out of reach before I can confiscate it.

I roll my eyes and glance at Ava for back-up. She’s staring at me, her gaze narrowed and filled with suspicion.

“What?” I ask.

“Tell us, dear Sophie,” she says, drawing out the “s” in my name, “why don’t you want to introduce us to your boss?”

“I never said that. And you already met him, remember?”

“It’s a bit foggy, and besides, that wasn’t really a proper introduction, now was it?”

“And what’s with that weird look on your face?” Zoey cuts in with a wide grin.

“There is no weird look on my face,” I insist, attempting to keep my features neutral. “I’m just trying not to throw up in my mouth at the thought of him in bed with anyone.”

“Anyone but you, you mean?” Ava asks, a look of pure victory on her face as if she’d set a trap, and I’d fallen right into it.

“Gross. No,” I say, but it sounds weak even to my ears.

I feel heat blooming in my cheeks, and I pick up my glass and slurp the booze down to hide the blush. But I must not be as smooth as I think I am, because they both squeal with excitement.

“Oh, my God. You do like him,” Zoey says, clapping her hands like a toddler playing patty-cake.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “He’s a dick.”

“Interesting choice of words,” Ava says, tapping her chin with a fingertip. “Freudian slip?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask, setting my glass down hard enough to rattle the ice inside.

“You’re thinking about his dick,” Ava says, nodding with authority. “That’s why you called him one.”

“You’re drunk,” I say, shaking my head.

“True,” she shoots back, “but I’m not stupid or blind. And neither is Zoey. Why are you denying it? He’s a hot, single, successful man. He doesn’t appear to have any major faults besides being a bit grumpy, and take it from me, that’s not necessarily a bad thing…if you know what I mean.”

“She means he’s probably a dragon between the sheets,” Zoey adds helpfully before I can respond.

“I am not sleeping with my boss to satisfy your curiosity about his…uh…performance,” I say, giving them each a glare.

“And yet, you won’t let us find out for ourselves,” Ava says, her voice tinged with false sadness. “What a selfish bitch you are, Sophie Jameson.”

“Shut up,” I say, laughing at her over-the-top expression of disappointment.

She smiles then, a devilish grin that says she has me right where she wants me. And she does.

Now, all I can think about is Jared and how he might behave in the bedroom. Is he sweet and attentive? Doubtful. He’d probably order me around, bend me over the couch, and fuck me with no eye contact or kissing allowed.

My entire body stills as my core clenches at the mental image.

What in the actual fuck, Sophie? I do not want that man. I don’t.

“Maybe you should text him and ask him.”

“What?” I ask, snapping out of my inner debate at Zoey’s words.

“Text Jared. Ask him if he’s as grumpy in the bedroom as he is in the boardroom.”