Let's Misbehave Read Free Page A

sighed. “Much. But you can’t tell me you don’t like sex.”
    “I do,” Portia said brightly.
    Bea shook her head at Portia but her lips curved with amusement. “We all like sex, but our passions aren’t plastered all over the Internet. We aren’t trying to prove we’re good girls.”
    “Excellent point.”
    “Just remember that no one will believe you of all women are sexless. You have to show that you’re passionate, but in an intriguing way and not crass like that wanker you dated made you seem,” Bea said.
    Gigi winced. “Let’s not discuss that wanker.”
    Bea took her hand. “You let me know and I’ll make sure he never wanks again.”
    “Thank you.” Gigi smiled, feeling better than she had in months. “I think I know what to wear Thursday night.”
    “I have glasses with clear lenses you can borrow,” Portia offered.
    “Why would I need glasses?” Gigi asked.
    “To look studious.”
    “Of course.” She sipped her martini. “Any other words of wisdom for me?”
    Portia took a moment to think about it. Then she said, “Don’t insult his manhood, because if you tell him his penis is small, it’ll make him sad and less likely to hire you.”
    They all stared at Portia.
    Then Rosalind shrugged. “She’s actually right about that. He would be sad.”

Chapter Two
    Merrick heard his front door slam and then Valerie’s footsteps clacking with determination down the hall.
    His best friend was the laziest person he knew. She sauntered, never strode. The fact that she was headed toward him at such rapid speed was alarming enough, more so given what day it was. But he’d braced himself by the time she stormed into his home office.
    Valerie stood framed in the doorway, frowning at him. Then she said, “Is this really how you’re going to live the rest of your life?”
    He sat back in the leather chair, making a point of looking around the room. He’d had it professionally designed, so it looked powerful and posh—exactly how one would expect a politician’s office to look. “My life looks pretty good from this vantage point.”
    “Your life is dull.” She marched into his office and plopped a garden gnome on the center of his desk. “This bloke is more fun than you are.”
    He stared at the gnome, who seemed to mock him with an insane smile. “Yes, but I’m taller. That has to count for something.”
    “Look at this space,” she said, ignoring him. She waved a hand in his general direction. “Look at your tie. You’re wearing a blue tie with little yellow dots on it. At home. Boring .”
    “I had a meeting earlier at Portcullis Office.” He and his staff had offices there, like all the other Members of Parliament, but he preferred to work from his home office most of the time.
    But today he’d had good news: his safety act had finally gotten past the second reading in the House of Lords. After all these years, all the lobbying, he finally had a chance at getting it passed.
    Fitting that it’d happened on this date.
    Of course, it was contingent on getting the conservative vote. But he had a plan for that. His act would be passed.
    “What happened to Ricky Hazard? What happened to the red leather pants and psychedelic shirts?” Valerie demanded, arms crossed and glaring at him.
    Ricky Hazard had died the same day Michaela had. Merrick Graham had risen from those bitter ashes.
    And Merrick had enough trouble being taken seriously as a politician without being reminded of his Ricky Hazard persona. His opponents called him the “The Bad Boy of Politics” to discredit him. Yes, he had world-changing ideals, but the moniker was more in reference to his former rock star life.
    No one took the partying lead singer of a boy band seriously. Merrick had taken great pains to clean up his image and be the personification of the Code of Conduct MPs were supposed to live by.
    It wasn’t easy.
    And he wasn’t going to explain himself, not even to his best friend. He folded his arms and