Most Valuable Playboy

“Hey, sweetie pie,” I say, trying that on for size, if we’re going to toss terms of endearments at each other now.

When she reaches me, I steel myself for a number of possibilities. She might be pissed that everyone is still calling her my girlfriend. She might be annoyed because her landlord is a dick. Or she might be ready to remind me that I shouldn’t show up without an appointment.

Instead, she grabs my hand, tugs me over to the nook in the front of the store with shelves of shampoos for sale, then throws her arms around me. She tugs me in close, pressing those sweet breasts against my chest.

Well, hello there, angels. So nice to see you again.

She threads a hand in my hair, and heat sweeps over me. She tilts her face up and nibbles on the corner of her lips. An electric charge surges down my spine. When she curls her fingers around the back of my head, I’m ready to call a two-minute warning because if she moves any closer, she’ll know there’s nothing fake about the way my body responds to her.

I’ve gone from zero to fully aroused in less than ten seconds. She presses her cheek to mine, her soft lips brushing near my earlobe. My chest rumbles. What the hell is she doing to me? Forget aroused. I’m ridiculously turned on, and also confused as hell. But I’m a physical man, so I go with it. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close.

“I texted you,” she says softly. “Did you get them?”

I can barely think with her lips so close to me, with her soft voice floating in my ear. “No. I mean, yeah. Maybe. I don’t know.” English is hard with her breasts getting acquainted with my chest, and me wanting to know how they’d feel without all these clothes between us. “Then Ford ambushed me and there were ducks, so . . .”

Yes, speaking in complete sentences is far too difficult.

“I sent you a couple. I left you a voice mail, too.”

“Sorry. I missed them,” I whisper, and I hope she keeps this conversation up all night long, because her hair smells so good, and her body feels amazing, and I can’t even think about text messages or voice mails when her hair tickles my neck like that. My brain short-circuits as I imagine my hands threading through all those soft strands. Yanking it back. Exposing that pretty neck. I’d suck on her jaw, lick a path up the column of her throat, and nibble on her ear. Then I’d kiss the breath out of her. Kiss her so damn hard and good that she loses her mind with pleasure. Like she’s doing to me in my head.

“Anyway,” she says quietly, “I called because I wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure.”

Her voice drops lower, goes even softer, and I can barely make out the words, but they sound a lot like, “Is there any chance you could pretend we’re still together for a few more days?”

I break the hug, meet her eyes, and say, “Funny, I was coming to ask you the same thing.”





11





An hour later, Violet says goodbye to the final customer, waving and blowing a kiss. “One more picture?” the brunette with a short blunt cut asks as she stands in the doorway.

“Of course.” I drape an arm around my pretend girlfriend.

The woman giggles and points upward. God bless mistletoe.

I drop a kiss to Violet’s cheek for the camera. She turns and plants one on my lips, and that’s like a shot of lust straight to my groin. To my mind. Through my whole body. This whole pretend girlfriend ruse is pretty awesome if it involves so much kissing for random cameras. Then I remember, Violet isn’t into me. These fake kisses can suck it.

She breaks apart and says goodbye to the brunette. As soon as she’s gone, Violet yanks down the blinds, locks the door, then breathes.

“So . . .”

“So . . .”

“You want to start?” I ask, as I park myself on the leather couch in the front of the shop. “Because it’s a helluva lucky break that we both need a plus-one.”

She sits next to me, crossing those lovely legs of hers. “I had the meeting with the landlord. He basically said he has offers left and right for a higher fee on my space. And my lease is up in a few months. Which means he’ll be jacking up the rates.”

“What an ass.”

“But, if I can keep up this kind of business, then I can make the salon more popular, and I can afford the increase. So that’s why I was calling you earlier. To see if you’d be amenable to pretending to be mine.” She fiddles with her bracelets. “I don’t want to put you out, though. I know last night was an exception, and if you have dates or whatnot planned with other women, or if this will cramp your style . . .”

I laugh loudly, setting a hand on her arm. “It’s all good, and I don’t have a style.”

She knits her brow, speaking softly. “You kind of do, though, don’t you?”

“Maybe I did, but I’m all about football this year,” I say, pointing straight ahead. Eye on the ball.

“And that means you’re a monk?”

“Took my vow before the season opener.”

She tilts her head. “Jones was serious when he said you kept your . . .?” She lets her question trail off, not repeating the phrase my buddy used last night.

“Snake in a cage?”

“Yes. That.”

“I took my vow of chastity at the start of the season. He doesn’t come out to play.”

She arches a skeptical brow. “For real?”

I nod. “Yeah, for real. I did that for me, to keep my focus on the game. Then it became part of this informal pact between the four of us once we started playing well—Harlan, Jones, Einstein, and me. As soon as we had a winning record, we figured we needed to maintain our superstitions, so we’ve kept them up.”

“And why that one for you?”

“Two reasons. First, my right hand still works. Like, really fucking well.”

She laughs loudly.

“Oh wait. I forgot. No monkey-spanking comments in front of you.”

“Please. That applied to my brother. It doesn’t bother me if you mention it.”

“Good. Feel free to talk about your solo habits, too.”

She rolls her eyes. “Keep dreaming.”

“I will.”

“Is pretend-dating me going to be a problem for your monkhood?”

I laugh. “Since it’s pretend dating, no.”

“What was the second reason for the vow?”

“I just figured focusing on football only would be best for my game, and I need my game to be excellent.”

She nods, taking it in. “Hence, the vow of chastity.”

I pat the belt loops on my jeans. “Here’s my chastity belt.”

She slams a hand on her thigh, laughing. “Oh, Coop. I think your chastity belt was broken a long time ago.”