Flavor Of The Month (Kiss & Tell Book 2) by Tori Carrington Page A

your columns, God as my witness.”
    Jack grinned at her. “At least I have one faithful friend.”
    “That doesn’t really qualify as knowing him,” Layla pointed out. “Your doing a column on him.”
    “Well, then, how about I share that I was one of his first customers and that he has a lunch sandwich named after me at the Hideaway?”
    “He does not,” Reilly said.
    “Does, too.” He shrugged. “Of course, it helps to have a name like Jack Daniels.”
    “So when are you two going out again?” Mallory asked Reilly.
    Jack said, “Well, we’ve never actually dated. Only hung out.”
    Mallory rolled her eyes.
    “I told you,” Reilly said. “Never.”
    She just needed to stop thinking about the invite to his restaurant. The invite that she didn’t respond to one way or the other. The invite that she’d be crazy to accept. The invite that she wanted to snap up if only to see Ben again and show him her new, sexy underpants.
    “Hmm,” Mallory said, watching her a little too closely.
    “Oh, God, is that the time?” Layla asked, looking at her watch then scooting from the stool. “I promised I’d be at the clinic ten minutes ago.” She slung her purse over her shoulder. “So we’re agreed on the dresses?”
    Mallory and Reilly made a face. They both hated the dresses, but then again what percentage of bridesmaids usually liked their dresses?
    “So we’ll meet for a first fitting on Wednesday at eleven then,” Layla said, then shot for the door without waiting for an answer.
    “Get the woman laid and she turns into Attila the Hun,” Mallory said, nearly causing Jack to spew his coffee out over the newspaper he was reading.
    She grabbed him by the sleeve. “Get a disposable cup. You’ve got to drive me to scout out some shooting sites.”
    “What happened to your car?” Reilly asked.
    “Finally bit the dust once and for all,” Jack answered for Mallory.
    “You can borrow my van, Mallory,” Reilly offered. “Well, after Tina makes some deliveries.”
    Her dark-haired friend smiled at her. “Thanks, but no. I think I enjoy terrorizing Jack more. You know, since he doesn’t have a real job and all.”
    Jack’s back stiffened as Mallory led him toward the door. “Being a magazine columnist is a real job. In fact, you can’t get any more real. Just the other day…”
    Reilly watched the door close after her friends, shook her head, then started cleaning up the table.
     
     
    “O H , HE’S SO CUTE !” Efi cried when Reilly let her into the apartment upstairs later that night. “When did you get a cat?”
    “I didn’t. And he’s not cute. He’s the butt-ugliest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Reilly watched her fifteen-year-old niece pick up the scraggly feline from where he’d been sprawled out in the middle of the coffee table. She idly wondered where else she was going to find black hair.
    Efi looked at Reilly as she fussed over the old Tom, then told her, “You know, I’ve decided that I’m going to grow up to be just like you.”
    Reilly put down her purse and the leftovers they’d brought home from a local Italian restaurant they’d just eaten dinner at. “How do you mean? Independent? Free-spirited? Successful?”
    “Single with a cat.”
    Reilly’s hands froze where she was going through the mail. Yikes! Details aside, that’s exactly what she was, wasn’t it? She’d turned into every woman’s nightmare.
    She eyed the cat, deciding it had to go. The single thing she might not be able to do much about. But the cat, she could.
    “If you like him so much, take him home with you.”
    Efi made a face. “I would but Mom’s allergic.”
    “Your mom had a cat growing up,” Reilly told her.
    “I know. Mittens. But now she’s allergic.”
    “I bet.” Reilly put the mail down, retrieved a couple of diet caffeine-free sodas from the fridge, then sat down on the sofa. “So tell me what’s made you decide to become an old spinster like your aunt?”
    The cat