Test Shot by Cari Quinn Read Free Book Online Page B

ask.”
    “Who?”
    She closed her eyes. “I don’t know.”
    “When were you to meet with him next? Tomorrow?”
    “No. Tuesday.”
    “Cancel that appointment and invite him for dinner next Friday night. Say your schedule’s just too full to accommodate him any sooner, but you want to meet with him.”
    She glanced away, well aware that her face was still burning. “He’ll know something’s up.”
    “If the idea disturbs him, he won’t come.”
    “Then what?”
    “He won’t say no.” He skated his hand down the curve of her leg. “Do you not find him attractive? Is that where your hesitation comes from?”
    She let out a snort. “You looked at his pictures. He’s fucking delicious.”
    Something passed through his gaze, an expression she couldn’t read. “He’s a free agent right now. While he’s free, take the chance that’s presented itself. Worry about business once you’ve had your pleasure.”
    He nudged her off his lap. Clearly, he’d forgotten all about her blowjob offer. Just as well, because she could barely breathe right now, never mind suck. “Finish your dinner. After that, we’ll call Sawyer.”
    She made herself take her seat across the table from him. “ We’ll call him?”
    “You’ll call. I’ll sit next to you and whisper naughty things in your ear.” He picked up his fork, his appetite obviously restored. “Okay?”
    If she went through with this, she wouldn’t play games. Somehow, some way, she’d spell out what Sawyer was in for if he crossed her threshold next Friday night. And if he thought she was some sort of weirdo, at least she could comfort herself with her honesty.
    “Okay,” she whispered.
    * * * *
    Sawyer sat down at the tiny folding table on his tiny balcony, the plate he’d filled with two turkey hot dogs and soy chips not nearly as appealing as the images stuck on auto-rewind behind his eyes.
    He hadn’t stopped thinking of Layla all afternoon, and he’d be damned if he knew why.
    She was attractive, yes. Friendly enough. Seemed fairly smart. But she wasn’t a knockout like Manda. Yet he’d forgotten all about the other junior agent as soon as he’d walked out of the office.
    Chemistry was hard to explain, and it had been a while since pheromones had knocked him on his ass. Too bad that the woman who’d clubbed him harder than he’d been hit in a long time just happened to be engaged.
    With a whistle for his suddenly missing dog, Greta, he picked up his hot dog and bit in. The wince came automatically. Though he’d sold himself to Layla as a guy who never counted calories, that was a lie. A man who made his living off his body had to be mindful of what he put in it. Or to his way of thinking, alternate the good with the bad. That meant tonight he’d make up for lunch.
    He reached for his bottle of Harp to wash it down and grinned. Partially anyway.
    His cell buzzed at his hip, and he winced again as he set down his hot dog. Man, couldn’t he catch a break? First Greta had probably disappeared to yack up a bone in the bedroom closet, and now he had to deal with—he flipped out his phone and scowled at the readout in the fading sunlight—Layla.
    Well then. Not what he’d expected at all.
    “Didja miss me already?”
    She didn’t laugh or halfheartedly scold him for his lack of a professional greeting. Why he’d expected either of those responses, he wasn’t sure. They didn’t know each other, even if he felt, inexplicably, as if they did. “I’m sorry to be calling you in the evening again.”
    Tension oozed from her voice. Hmm. “I’m a night owl. Won’t be hitting the sheets for hours and hours yet. You’re good. So what’s up?”
    “I’m not interrupting anything? We can speak later if it would be better for you.”
    “Just eating dinner. No problem. What’s up?” he repeated, surprisingly dismayed by the thread of nerves in her tone.
    Why did it matter if she was worried or upset? She was a stranger. He’d be concerned