The Play Mate (Roommates, #2)

Evie

I had the entire evening planned out to perfection, and my strategy was indestructible. I’d spent the past two hours showering, shaving, and blow-drying. My hair fell in soft waves down my back, and my makeup was subtle but skillfully applied.

I wanted to look flawless tonight. And not because I was vain, but because I’d worked so hard to get here. Losing the extra twenty pounds I’d always carried and growing my self-confidence in the process, I was finally ready for this moment.

This was my last hurrah before I finally let go of my crush on Smith and forced myself to grow up and move on with my life. I knew Maggie was right-of course this was a little crazy. But, damn it, this was what I wanted, and for once I was going to throw caution to the wind and just go for it.

Brushing one last coat of black mascara onto my lashes, I smiled at my reflection in the mirror.

One stupid, fumbling attempt at losing my virginity last year was the only experience under my belt. And I hadn’t even gotten off.

I just wanted to have one orgasm that wasn’t supplied by me. Was that too much to ask?

I’d been almost calculating in my planning of tonight, working out all the details in my mind. I knew Smith well enough to know that at dinner he’d drink two whiskeys, neat, and then switch to soda water with lime. I knew he’d thoroughly read the menu and ask about the specials, but he’d ultimately order the steak, medium, and a potato with sour cream but no butter.

After dinner when we all parted ways, my brother would step off the elevator to go to his room on the ninth floor while Smith and I rode up together to mine. Then I’d ask him if he would mind walking me to my room. It would seem an innocent enough request, and a normal thing to do for a woman traveling alone, right? Then when we’re standing at the door, I’d invite him in. Being the polite gentleman he was, he’d accept, and then we’d have another cocktail and talk, and things would progress naturally from there.

I smiled at my reflection again. It was go time.

Only when I got downstairs to the hotel restaurant for dinner-nothing was like what I’d planned. Yes, my brother and Smith were here already, but rather than being seated at a table in the dining room, they were at the bar with glasses of wine in front of them.

Wine? Since when had Smith ever drank wine?

And even more concerning than the wine were the two busty blow-up Barbies practically in their laps.

Swallowing a sudden wave of nerves at the first sight of Smith I’d had in over a year, I took a deep breath.This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

His broad shoulders tugged at the material of his suit jacket, his long, powerful legs were stretched out before him, and his chiseled jaw was in need of a good shave. His hair was a bit longer then I remembered on top. Something to grab onto. I smiled.

When I got closer, I could see the woman standing beside Smith had her hand curled around his bicep. She was sipping a drink, flirting . . . encroaching on my territory.

What the hell? This wasn’t a scenario I’d planned for.

Pulling a deep breath in my lungs, I stopped between my brother and Smith.

“Gentlemen,” I purred, my gaze finding Smith’s and then dropping away in a way I hoped was sexy. Then again, I’d spent far too much time reading the sex tips in Cosmo magazine but no time actually practicing them, so it was entirely possible I looked like a cross-eyed, sex-starved weirdo.

“Evie,” Smith’s deep voice boomed, his smile blossoming into something full and genuine.

His hazel eyes locked on mine, and I felt a shiver race down my spine.

“Hi, Smith,” I said, my voice shaky.

“Hey, sis. You finally made it.” Cullen rose to his feet and gave me a brotherly one-armed hug. “This is Francesca and Giada. They’re here for the fashion show.”

Of course they were models. It was the universe’s cruel joke at my expense. Standing next to the two of them, I suddenly felt that twenty pounds I’d worked so hard to lose should have been forty.

“Join us. Would you like a cocktail?” Smith asked. “Or a glass of wine?” When I squinted at him, he shrugged. “When in Rome.” Then he raised his glass to his perfectly plump, full lips and took a long swallow, the thick column of his throat working.

Signaling the bartender, I ordered the strongest thing I could think of. “A martini, please.”

He nodded and scurried off to grab the bottles that would give me the liquid courage I needed.

Smith chuckled low under his breath beside me. “Are you sure you don’t want a Sex on the Beach?”

I looked at the pink cocktail in front of his date and shook my head. “I’m good. Thanks.”

Apparently Francesca and Giada didn’t speak much English, but that didn’t stop them from communicating in sultry glances and suggestive body language with the guys.

Smith laughed at something Francesca said and patted her hand like he had no idea what she was talking about, but he was amused nonetheless.

If I had one ounce of the self-confidence and charm these women had, I wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. A knot formed in the pit formed in my stomach.

Why the hell was Smith so enamored with her anyway? She had entirely too much makeup on, and he acted like her ordering a Sex on the Beach was the most interesting thing in the world. I could order a froufrou drink too, but that didn’t make me special or interesting.

As I stared straight ahead at the bottles lining the shelves behind the bar, anger bubbled up inside me. A wave of fresh laughter broke out when the women were trying to inquire, I thought, if Donald Trump was actually the president.

After sucking down half my martini, I set it down with a shaking hand. “You know what?” I said, turning toward my brother and Smith. “I thought we were going to have dinner, but if you guys want to play grab-ass instead, I’m out of here.”

Plucking my clutch from the bar, I rose to my feet. Forget this. I knew what I wanted, but I wasn’t going to be anyone’s pushover.

Smith stood too. “Hey, don’t go.”

His hand came to rest on my lower back, and since my dress was backless, his warm fingers landed on my bare skin. My eyes sank closed, and I felt my knees tremble.

When I opened my eyes, Smith’s hazel ones were locked on mine, looking apologetic.

“Evie’s right. Come on. Let’s go to dinner. We don’t want to lose our reservation,” he added, pulling his gaze from mine and casting a glance at my brother.

My mouth lifted in a smile. I was relieved and a little surprised that he actually noticed I was mad, given that Francesca had been pressing her large fake boobs against his arm while she grinned at him.

As Smith tossed a couple of bills onto the bar, Cullen reluctantly rose to his feet. “Yes, I guess it’s that time.”

Just as the hostess approached to lead us to our table, I saw Francesca scribble down her number on a cocktail napkin and shove it in Smith’s pocket.

Taking a deep, calming breath, I followed the hostess to our table, my hips swishing seductively. I could have sworn I felt Smith’s gaze on my ass. Maybe that number in his pocket meant nothing. Maybe I could still try to salvage tonight.