Hooker (L.A. Liaisons Book 2) by Brooke Blaine

detergent comes in handy. You?”
    “Yeah, I do laundry.”
    “Any more sexy pajama pants where those came from?” he asked with a wink. At least I thought it was a wink. He could have an eye twitch. But I was so annoyed at myself for looking like a slob that—once again—I snapped at him.  
    “That’s a personal question. I don’t think I invited you to snoop into my underwear drawer.”
    “I wasn’t asking about your underwear. I barely know your name, Shayne Callahan.”
    “I’m sure that wouldn’t be the first time you didn’t know the name of someone whose underwear you inquired about.”  
    Immediately I wanted to slap myself, but seeing as my hands were full, I had to settle for an inner kick in the pants. What the hell is wrong with me? Shut up, Shayne. But something about the guy made me want to fight with him, and as any of my friends could tell you, I’m a lover, not a fighter.  
    I couldn’t pinpoint what it was…his self-assured smile? The way he’d caught me at my worst on both occasions I’d met him? The fact that he looked so damn good in those suspenders that my mind could only visualize him using those to tie me up? Wait…what?
    Dammit, why did I have to come to Target in my freaking pajamas?
    His head cocked to the side. “Are you always this combative?”
    “Are you always this arrogant?”
    “I just came over to say hi.”
    “And inquire about my panties.”
    “Which I’ve already seen, remember?”
    Oh. Oh yeah. I didn’t have anything to say to that, did I?
    His head fell back, and I was pretty sure I heard a growl of frustration escape.  
    Yeah. If this wasn’t proof I suffered from foot-in-mouth disease, I didn’t know what was. I just can’t control it. The word vomit just comes spewing out without a care. Or a bucket. Cleanup on aisle four.
    Nate straightened and shook his head at me before moving in my direction. I backed up at his approach, until my back hit the frosted door. His hand pressed against the glass by my cheek, and as he leaned in, his breath tickled my ear. I shivered and squeezed the boxes in my arms tighter, though I was sure my trembling was from the cold, not from the proximity of his body.  
    I was almost sure.  
    “Listen, Shayne,” he said, in a voice low and throaty, belying his age. “If I wanted to know about what else is hiding under your clothes, trust me, I’d find out.” He pulled away slightly, bringing his face in front of mine. “And maybe next time, you’ll want me to.”
    Next time? I thought as he backed away, the red shopping basket in his hand swinging back and forth like a pendulum clock counting down to our inevitable third meeting. My knees felt a bit wobbly as I watched him retreat, and I didn’t trust myself to push off the glass just yet.  
    No, I’d stay here, mute and staring, while he got the last word. And do you want to know the saddest thing? All I could think when he left and I was tossing the frozen food boxes into the cart was, Thank you baby Jesus that I chose the healthy spinach ones.  

CHAPTER FIVE
    Viva Las Vegas

    LAS VEGAS.
    EVEN after visiting more times than I could count, the city always called to me. I wouldn’t consider myself a materialistic person, nor am I usually comfortable around grandiose displays of wealth—hah, because I don’t have any!—but I love seeing those enormous structures all lit up and sparkling. The blast of perfumed air hitting my face upon walking into each one gave me goosebumps—a sign of exciting, unpredictable times ahead.  
    Bright and early the next morning, I was throwing my bags into the boot of Paige’s Tahoe when my phone rang.  
    “Good morning, Val,” I said.  
    She didn’t waste any time with pleasantries. “What’s this I hear about Vegas?”
    Shouldering my phone, I pushed the bags farther into the boot to make room for Paige’s stuff, not that there was much space left after Quinn and Ryleigh’s piles. To say we never traveled light