Missed Connections Read Free

“Yeah.”
    “Pete around?”
    Want but can’t touch. I wrestle my hormones into submission. “Nope.”
    “He still at the salon?”
    “I’m not sure. He was sleeping when I got up and then gone when I got back from my interview a few minutes ago.”
    He strides into the galley kitchen and rests a trim hip against the counter. “Had to have been a hair emergency to get him out of bed before noon on a Sunday.”
    “True.”
    “How did your interview go?”
    I smooth my ponytail in what I hope is a casual manner, feeling self-conscious about my tiny shorts and tank top. “I think it went well, but they said they had a few more applicants to go through. And they’re a little strange.”
    “Strange how?”
    How much can I say without sounding judgmental? “They’re hippies.”
    “As in cool stoners? That might be kind of sweet having them as your bosses.”
    “I don’t know about that, but I suspect there’s going to be a lot of talk of chi and auras.”
    “Ah, New Agers.”
    “Yes.” Resting an elbow on the desk, I prop my chin in one hand. “And they haven’t let the person whose job I’d be taking know she’s fired yet.”
    He grimaces. “Harsh.”
    “But I’d work there in a heartbeat if they’d have me.”
    He crosses his arms, and I try not to ogle them. “They’d be stupid not to hire you.”
    “Thanks, Jack.” His earnestness makes me smile.
    “I know you said before you couldn’t waitress, but they make awesome tips. I could—”
    “I know you have all kinds of connections, but I couldn’t work as a waitress at one of those clubs. I don’t have the coordination. There’s a reason you guys never let me carry the drinks back to the table. I’d end shifts owing more than I’d made.”
    “Fair enough. So—” he says, as my cell phone vibrates against the desktop.
    “I’ve got to get this.” I hold up my hand. “Sarah speaking.”
    “Hi, Sarah, this is Fern. From Inner Space?”
    “Hi, Fern.” It’s them , I mouth at Jack. “How are you?”
    “I’m fine. Listen, I just wanted to call to let you know that unfortunately”—damn it—“our old receptionist found out we were interviewing and came in for an ugly confrontation before she stormed out, so we’re going to need you to come in tomorrow morning.”
    Wait. “You mean I got the job?”
    “Oh yes, didn’t I say?”
    I punch the air. “No! Thank you, Fern. I will definitely be there. What time do you need me?”
    “You’ll be working Monday to Friday, leaving around six. Is ten too early?”
    Too early? The firm had me start work at seven—and now I’ll get weekends off. “Ten is perfect.”
    “Great. See you tomorrow.”
    “Bye.” I end the call and spring to my feet. “I have a job.”
    “Congratulations!” Jack holds his hand up, but our high five turns into an enthusiastic hug.
    And here, pressed up against his warm, muscular length, with my face to his chest, I remember why he’s off-limits. Because I want him so very much, and he’s so very wrong for me.
    But for once, I don’t care.
    I tighten my embrace and breathe deeply, holding his scent in my lungs because I want any part of him inside me right now. His hand splays across my lower back and presses me closer, but no lines are crossed except those in my mind…where we’ve already done everything. Twice. My skin’s cooled from the air-conditioning, but he’s still warm from the heat outside, making the difference even more interesting. How would those heated hands feel trailing up my thighs…
    Pulling back, I slowly drag my gaze from his chest to his face. I’ve wanted Jack from the moment I saw him six years ago at a house party, spinning records in the basement. Ten minutes later, I’d learned his nickname. DJ Madhead. My gay best friend’s identical twin.
    He licks his lips.
    Oh, Jack is sex personified and he knows it. The trouble is, a lot of other women know it too. A lot of women. Too many women.
    And I refuse to be just