LITMIR.BIZ

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Dean chuckled.

      That shocked her. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”

      “Well, not funny exactly. So your sister had her eye on your fiancé, and now that she has his ring on her finger, she’s worried you might want him back.”

      That was it in a nutshell. It had been six years, but Abbie just couldn’t let it go. It was one of the reasons Jess had moved to Cambridge in the first place, to get away from the constant haranguing and jealous questioning.

      “I don’t want him. At all.”

      “I can well imagine.”

      Which brought her back to the current dilemma. “I have no idea how to make her believe me.”

      The conversation paused when the waiter brought their food. Curried chicken with rice and vegetables served family style. Before she could lift a finger, Dean had taken her plate and dished up some of the fragrant food. Too bad she didn’t have much of an appetite at the moment.

      Once Dean had served himself, he had no problem picking up where they’d left off. “So you think your sister is going to keep accusing you of trying to steal her husband … aka your ex.”

      Using her fork, she speared a piece of chicken. “She lives in London, so, once she goes back, I’m hoping it’ll die back down. Or that Martin will be able to convince her we’re not communicating behind her back.”

      “Mmm … I see.” He popped a bite into his mouth and chewed. Swallowed.

      Why was she even telling him any of this? And what was with her watching the man’s throat? It had to be the way that sharp edge of his Adam’s apple dipped, causing her eyes to want to follow it. All the way down to his … She jerked her eyes back to his face.

      Dean continued. “No current love interest to throw her off the trail?”

      “No.” She hurriedly stuffed a piece of food into her mouth, even as she felt her face heat all over again. If he only knew how true those words were, he would think she was a complete washout when it came to the opposite sex.

      In fact, the two of them should not even be having this conversation. She barely knew the man.

      But what she did know of him … He was rumored to have a revolving bedroom door. Women in … women out. Swish, swish, swish turned that door.

      “What if you did?” he murmured.

      “Excuse me?”

      He smiled at that. “You’re not going to turn that cute little glare back on, are you?”

      “Excuse … I mean, what?”

      “That’s better.” He set his fork down and reached across to touch his fingers to hers. A shot of electricity arced through her hand and zipped straight up her arm. “I was just sitting here thinking. Maybe you should hand her proof of a conquest or two?”

      It was said with a cheeky air that made her laugh. Not because it was funny, but because he said it as though it weren’t such a stretch to imagine that she might have a long list of failed romances.

      She didn’t. She left things like that to her sister. And to men like Dean.

      “I don’t have any conquests.”

      His index finger brushed along hers, sending another shiver through her. “Do you always say exactly what you think, Jessica Black?”

      “No.” Although that wasn’t quite right. She did tend to wear her heart on her sleeve, which was why her sister had always been able to zero in on what Jess wanted out of life—on which boy Jess liked. Then she turned on her million-kilowatt charm and took it for herself.

      “Oh, I think you do.” The low words curled around her midriff, squeezing the air from her lungs. “But maybe we can use that to our advantage.”

      “Um … we?”

      “Mmm.” He leaned across the table. “How about if we show your sister exactly how her little game is played.”

      “I—I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

      “I think you need to show her you can round up your own men, thank you very much.”

      “Men? Plural?”

      “Why not?”

      Her gut churned. “How can you do that?”

      “Do what?”

      “Go to bed with hundreds of women as if it’s nothing special.”

      His gaze hardened. “The hospital grapevine strikes again.”

      “It’s not like you haven’t been seen here. You have. The hostess knows your name, for heaven’s sake.” The words just kept pouring out. “I’m not judging. I just don’t know how it’s possible to have casual sex without feeling something … anything. Do the women just go along with it? Or do you simply stop ringing them after you’ve gotten what you wanted?”

      The bitterness of everything that had happened with Martin came rushing back. The giving of her heart—her body—and then having him stop ringing her one day. Finding out he’d been seen with her sister and to have them show up at her door and spill the beans, that he’d been going out with Abbie while still engaged to her.

      “What makes you think that the ‘casual’ in casual sex isn’t on both sides? That the woman isn’t just as interested in keeping things simple? Have you ever tried it?”

      “Well, no.” And she hadn’t. Maybe that was why it seemed impossible to believe that two people could share a bed and then each go their separate ways the next day with no hurt feelings—no misunderstandings.

      “Maybe you should. It’s a hell of a lot different when neither party expects anything out of the arrangement other than a single night of pleasure.”

      The way his gravelly voice touched that last word sent a ripple through her midsection. What would it be like to have your physical needs met and then not expect anything further?

      Maybe he was right. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it sounded.

      And it could make her sister finally believe she was over Martin … that she’d been over him for a long time.

      “Maybe I should.”

      One side of his mouth went up, and he leaned over the table. “Bet you can’t.”

      She sat up a little straighter. If he could do it, surely she could. Unless he was calling her a prude. “Of course I can.”

      “Prove it.”

      Oh, no. This was not where she’d seen this conversation heading. “And how exactly am I supposed to do that? Are you going to hide in a cupboard and watch me?”

      “No.” A little of the mellowness in his voice had faded and a sharper edge had appeared. “But I can feel out the men. Make sure they’re safe.”

      Jess could not believe she was even having this conversation. “So you would interview any prospective bed mate to make sure they aren’t a serial rapist? Exactly where would this ‘finding my own men’ be done? A pub?”

      One thing Jess was good at was sizing up personalities. Except how good had she been at sizing up Martin? Not great. Maybe she did need someone to help scope things out. Not that she was actually thinking of doing anything of the sort.

      Was she?

      Evidently she was.

      “A pub is perfect,” he said.

      He didn’t say it, but she got the distinct impression that that was where Dean picked up some of his prospective one-night stands.

      Suddenly Jess was backpedaling like mad. She really didn’t think she could go through with it, but, since she’d criticized Dean, she could understand

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