Admittedly, it had been a while for him, but he’d had more opportunities than most to take care of business if he’d just wanted to get laid. Sex had never been a problem. He was grateful for that, absolutely. But now that he was approaching thirty, he was trying to avoid letting his dick call the shots.
It wasn’t only his dick that found Aubrey intriguing, however.
“Look, I was at work,” she said, leaning toward him, her deep purple fingernails clicking on her shot glass. “I’m doing this Christmas window display for a lingerie store. It’s a major deal because I’m a nobody and you know what happens with Christmas windows in this city. For God’s sake, did you know that the window at Lord & Taylor is on a hydraulic lift so the whole thing can be moved to the basement? That the big players like Macy’s and Barney’s can spend over a million dollars on their displays?
“Anyway, my boss is kind of the Tina Brown of lingerie and the store was supposed to have opened ages ago, but there were all sorts of delays, so it didn’t open until October, but she needs the store to kill at Christmas, so I’m supposed to debut the window live on Christmas Eve Eve in front of reporters and bloggers from the New York Times to PopSugar…pretty much everyone who’s anyone, so you can imagine the pressure, right?”
Her hand slid across the table to land on his, which gave him a jolt that went straight to his cock. He nodded, although he’d barely understood half of what she’d said.
“I’ve done a hundred or more sketches and I’ve got nothing. Seriously, nothing. Nada. Zippo. And it’s almost three weeks until Christmas! There aren’t words to describe how freaked out I am.”
She paused, but only to knock back more of her drink. After squishing her face up into an award-winning wince, she took a deep breath and dove back in, her hand still on his.
“So tonight I walk outside, and this freaky wind almost blows my hat across the street. That’s when I see it. I had no idea what it was or where it came from until it fell, I bullshit you not, into my hand. No exaggeration. Literally into my hand.”
She held up said hand as a visual aid. He let out a surprisingly big breath as he pulled his own to his lap. “My trading card,” he said.
Pointing her finger at him as if she’d unequivocally made her case, she said, “Exactly. That doesn’t just happen.” She leaned back against the booth, her deep scarlet lips set in a firm line while her eyes danced.
Danced? He’d never had a thought like that before in his life. He grabbed his beer, somehow knowing things were only going to get worse.
“Okay, so, what I haven’t told you is the name of the store where I work.”
That was evidently his cue. “No. No you haven’t.”
She grinned, and leaned in again. “Le Muse,” she said, going full French accent on him. The way her eyebrows rose and her sly grin indicated that the name was significant. He had no idea why. “Uh-huh.”
“Le Muse, Liam. Le Muse.”
“Sorry, I don’t follow.”
Her clear frustration made him feel as if he should apologize.
“You. It’s you. You came down from God knows where and landed in my lap. Detective Flynn, you’re meant to be my personal muse.”
It took a minute to digest her completely insane idea. Then he had to go through it again, just to make sure he wasn’t hearing things. But no. She thought he was a mythical Greek goddess.
Definitely off her meds.
“Maybe I should take a look at the card,” he said. “Just to, you know, get a grasp on this.”
“Oh, sweetie. No can do. Not yet.”
“No? Why the hell—”
The waitress’s timing could not have been worse. “Sorry for the delay, but we’re short-staffed tonight.” She had her pen poised at the ready. “What can I get you guys?”
Liam had been starving when he’d gotten there, but Aubrey’d knocked the hunger straight out of him. All he could do was stare.
“I thought you wanted to eat,” she said.
He opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Aubrey said, “I’ll have the fried chicken sliders and another round, please.” She smiled his way and said, “You’re welcome to share.”
“What about you, gorgeous?” the waitress asked.
Huh. The way she looked at him, as if he were on the menu, made him realize he’d expected the same from Aubrey. But his looks didn’t seem to matter to her bewildering scheme. “That mac and cheese sounds good.”
“You got it. Aubrey, on your tab?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Uh,” he said, but it was too late. They were alone again. “You don’t have to pay for my food. Or another beer.”
“Yes, I do. I asked you here because—”
He held up a hand, not willing to be sidetracked again. “I believe you were going to tell me why you don’t want me to see the card?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, shaking her head as if the explanation wouldn’t have been necessary if only he’d been paying attention. “I’m assuming you know what a muse is.”
“Yes. How they relate to me in any way isn’t clear, however.”
“From the sky, Liam. Dropped from nowhere. Anyway, what a muse does is inspire creativity. That’s exactly what my problem’s been. Why I can’t come up with a great idea for the window. You fall into my hand like a gift, and in seconds I can feel my juices getting all stirred up.”
His reaction to that last comment wasn’t good. Not good at all.
“I knew it was destiny. The Fates, you know? There’s no law that says a muse has to be a woman. I mean, come on. That would be crazy.”
“Yeah. That part would be crazy.”
She didn’t actually say, “Obviously,” but she managed to get the point across.
“Not to put a damper on things, but I don’t think this whole muse business is up my alley. And you still haven’t answered my question.”
It was as if he’d taken away her favorite kitten. “You do realize my entire future is at stake. If I blow this window, I’ll never get another chance like it. My boss is one of the most connected people in the world. She could literally ruin me. Forever.”
“I don’t think—”
“Listen, you don’t understand. I can’t have you distracted by other dates, at least not for now. But don’t worry, this isn’t a long-term proposal. It’s just until Christmas Eve Eve. And it’s not even that hard. I mean, all I really need from you is lots and lots of sex.”
His next words vanished from his mind. As did most of his working brain cells. “What’s that you say?”
Chapter Three
She hadn’t planned out exactly how she would ask Liam for a one-night stand, but telling him she wanted “lots and lots of sex” might have been taking it a step too far. Although his rapid blinking and open mouth could also suggest a nail hit directly on the head. Or an imminent solicitation