A flutter of guilty pleasure went through her. What might a woman do with Heath Jensen entirely under her control?
Gwen shook her head firmly. “You don’t want any part of that. Making sure your ex sees you looking hot is one thing, but mind games are beneath you.”
“Maybe.” She recalled Cam’s stricken expression after he’d seen Heath kiss her and her vindictive delight. Maybe not. “But it’s not like you to judge. You’re the one always encouraging me to be reckless, have an adventure.”
“Yeah, but I figured you’d start small and work your way up. When a person goes skiing for the first time, she doesn’t head straight for the black diamond trails. She starts with the bunny slopes! Heath is no bunny.”
“I know the two of you didn’t exactly hit it off, but Heath would never hurt me.”
“Not intentionally,” Gwen agreed. “But you would be in way over your head trying to fake a red-hot fling with him. Next to that borderline man-whore, you’re a nun.”
“I went out last night in a dress cut down to my navel. I am not a nun.”
“Okay, wrong choice of word. But you have to admit you’re not...” Gwen peered at her with a combination of affection and sympathy. “Like when you talked about your love life with Cam? It sounded comfortable, maybe even a little routine.”
“Maybe I’ve never had a quickie with a ripped stuntman in a makeup trailer, but our sex life was plenty satisfactory!” Oh, there was a ringing endorsement. Hey, baby, wanna get satisfactory? Was that why Cam had left her—because the sex had been boring?
After growing up with a mother who’d done everything she could to impress on her that sex was evil, Phoebe had congratulated herself more than once on not turning out to be phobic. Still, her love life was pretty conventional. There’d been the boyfriend her freshman year in college who’d been as inexperienced as she was. He’d treated her like a princess, but the sex had not been earth-shaking. Then there’d been the bartender she’d dated during her year of working at a bakery. On the nights he worked, he didn’t get home until almost 3:00 a.m., and her predawn shift had started at four. Their sex life had been great...when they were both awake at the same time. Cam was by far the best lover she’d ever had, but now she realized she didn’t have much basis for comparison.
If she’d been more inventive in bed, would she have held his interest longer?
That was a depressing thought.
Phoebe sighed. “I guess instead of making fun of those Weird Ways to Bring Him to His Knees articles in your fashion magazines, I should be studying them for advice.” Then again, why read generic tips written by another woman? Why not get a guy’s opinion? She snapped her fingers. “Or Heath could help me.”
“What? Let’s not do anything hasty.”
“Heath offered to help.” Use me any way you want. “Why not take him up on it?” The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. “Best-case scenario, I win back the man I was planning to spend my life with, after an appropriate period of groveling. Worst case, Cam and I stay split up, but I salvage my pride by making sure he knows I’m not wasting away and I pick up tips on being more seductive. Where’s the bad?”
“In Heath Jensen’s arms,” Gwen said darkly.
There, her roommate was wrong. Because being kissed by Heath had been very, very good. And that had only been a brief preview of his expertise. Her pulse quickened.
How much more of Heath’s sensual skill would she experience firsthand? She glanced across the room to where her phone was charging.
Only one way to find out.
ARMS AND BACK muscles straining, a bead of sweat trickling down his chest, Heath raised himself into his last set of pull-ups. It was tempting to use the buzzing cell phone on the nightstand as an excuse to quit the workout, but after starting high school as the shortest, chunkiest guy in the freshman class, he took his athletic regimen seriously. Staying in shape required effort, especially for someone who worked with—and enjoyed the hell out of—food. He glanced down at the phone. Unless it was someone from the restaurant, and therefore a potential emergency, he’d call whoever it was back.
But then he saw Phoebe’s name on the screen, and he almost lost his grip on the bar.
Dropping to his feet, he snatched up the phone. “Hello?” So I’ll do an extra set of reps tomorrow. No big deal.
“Hey.” Her voice was soft, tentative. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
That depended. Was she calling to tell him she didn’t appreciate his meddling last night and that he’d better keep his hands to himself? “Just finishing up a workout.” He reached for his bottle of water. “What can I do for you?”
“Teach me to be sexy.”
Thank God he hadn’t opened the water yet. An announcement like that would have had him spluttering. His obituary in the AJC would read Restaurateur Drowns in Bedroom.
“Phoebe. Not to state the obvious, but you are sexy.”
“The word people use is cute.”
Stupid people, maybe. Not even a chef’s jacket and apron could hide those curves. And anyone who paid close enough attention to her mischievous smile would discover an alluring potential to misbehave. How did people miss it? Hell, he’d been trying to unsee it for months.
Maybe now he didn’t have to. For the moment, she was unattached. And he was no longer her employer.
“It’s not like I suffer from low self-esteem,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m attractive, and I’m talented in the kitchen. But I’m not...you know. Va va voom.”
“Did you not look in a mirror before you left the house last night?” For that matter, was she oblivious to how aroused he’d been when she kissed him back? He got hard every time he remembered the taste of her mouth beneath his, the feel of her fingers in his hair as she tugged him closer.
“Eye makeup and a low-cut dress are superficial window dressing. I want a more meaningful makeover. I want to be exciting.” She lowered her voice. “Seductive.”
A more seductive Phoebe. God help him.
“If I take Cam back,” she continued, “I don’t want to worry that I’m not enough to hold his interest.”
Cam. Right.
Heath had been so busy picturing Phoebe as a confident seductress that he’d momentarily forgotten this was all to prove a point to her ex. Which was your idea, genius. He could hardly fault her for taking him at his word. Hadn’t he offered to help in whatever way she needed? She was, after all, one of his best friends.
“You suggested we pretend to be dating,” she said, “and I thought that while we’re spending some extra time together, maybe you could give me pointers.”
It was like the lamb asking the wolf to help make her more delicious. The noble part of him truly wanted to help her; the other 99 percent of him was preoccupied by the possibilities. For months, working alongside her, he’d been a gentleman—or, at least, his version of one. There’d been some playfully naughty banter, but he’d kept his hands to himself. And now she wanted to put herself in his hands and have him teach her about sex?
If he was a better person, he’d warn her away. “Are you free for dinner?”
“T-tonight?” The way she stumbled over the