“Are you sure you want to do this with Smith?” Maggie asked, drawing me back to the present.
Ah, Smith. I let out a happy sigh. He was the thing all my teenage fantasies were made of. He was smart, sweet, and attractive. And he had this whole wounded alpha-male thing going on. He hid it well; most people would never know. But he was adopted as an older child, and I knew that his years spent in foster care longing for a forever family had shaped the man he was today. I was sure he wanted love and acceptance and belonging just as much as I did. Maybe even more.
“Of course.” I’d never been more certain of anything in my entire life. “Why?”
Maggie chewed on her lip. “I’m just not sure if Smith is the man you should give it to. There’s too many messy entanglements.”
I shrugged. I’d been over all the pros and cons six thousand times already. Smith would be landing in Paris tomorrow to visit my brother, who was already there on business. I’d be joining them for dinner. There would be wine and conversation . . . and then later something sweeter than dessert. It was the perfect time. I couldn’t have decided on a more magical first—okay, technically second—time if I tried. Paris was practically the world capital of romance. Nothing could go wrong.
And then we’d all go back to Chicago, which was a big enough city to avoid him if things turned weird afterward, like Maggie was convinced.
“No matter what, don’t tell him you’re practically still a virgin. It’ll scare him off,” Maggie added.
“First, I’m not a virgin. I did it with—”
She waved me off. “Yeah, I know. What’s-his-name. That doesn’t count.”
“Why not? Of course it counts.” I sat up straighter in my seat. That so counted.
Maggie rolled her eyes. “He didn’t get you off. Didn’t even try to put any romance into it. If there’s no orgasm, it wasn’t sex. You get a do-over. It’s practically written in the Girl Code.”
I thought over what she had said and decided that I liked that. A do-over. It went perfectly with my sassy new personality and my new take-no-shit philosophy.
“Wait, what do you mean? Don’t guys like that? Being the first to conquer uncharted territory, and all that.”
Maggie gave me a sorrow-filled look. “No, because smart men know that women get attached to their first. Smith might be reluctant to go there with you.” While my brain buzzed with thoughts of Smith, she continued. “There are so many expectations and emotions that go along with being someone’s first. He might not be okay with that. And he might hurt you, and if I know Smith, he definitely wouldn’t be okay with that.”
That part was true. He’d always treated me with kid gloves.
“Fine. I won’t tell him about what’s-his-name, or that I need a do-over.”
I’ll just let him think I’m a sexual tigress on the prowl. That was much better than the depressing alternative, admitting that I’d never had an orgasm with a guy in all my twenty-two years.
But tomorrow night, that would all change.
And I couldn’t wait.
Chapter Two
The first thing I saw when I walked into the bar was all those damn curves.
Full, round ones.
Tall, slim ones.
And my personal favorite—short, sturdy ones. Just right for three fingers of Scotch, neat.
I eyeballed the rocks glass like I could call it to me using my mind if I tried hard enough.
Hey, beautiful.
Come over here and see Daddy.
I slid my travel-weary body onto one of the empty stools and leaned on the glossy mahogany bar top with a groan. Jet lag from hell had my head throbbing like mad, and I waved the bartender over, hoping my rudimentary high school French would at least get me a drink.
“Uh, Scotch, s’il vous pla?t?” I made a gesture to the bottle and waited hopefully.
The bartender shot me a broad grin in return and nodded his ponytailed head. “Oui, monsieur.”
I gave him a clipped nod of thanks and set my briefcase on the empty chair beside me.
It had been a hell of a day. My flight was delayed more than once, but I was bound and determined to get here. My buddy Cullen was counting on me, and there was no way in hell I was about to let him down. He’d been there for me since I was six years old. We’d skinned our first knees together. Shared our first beer together. Hell, our first kisses were even with the same girl. From as far back as then, no matter how much we both thought we liked her, even Suzie Hammerschmidt couldn’t come between us.
Which meant I really needed to get my head out of my ass and stop thinking about Cullen’s little sister, Evie.
I squeezed my eyes closed and scrubbed a hand over my face in frustration.