High-Stakes Playboy by Cindy Dees

Author:Cindy Dees [Dees, Cindy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781460344903
Google: wocPBAAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00LZCTGCA
Barnesnoble: B00LZCTGCA
Goodreads: 22885405
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-12-31T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

She started to tell him she was from the Midwest, which didn’t have the world’s most gentle climate, thank you very much, but the line went dead. In her ear. Omigod. Did he just hang up on her? Or maybe the phone line cut off due to the snow continuing to pile up outside.

She looked out the front window dubiously. It really was snowing hard, even by Chicago standards. Surely, he wouldn’t try to make it all the way up here in that mess.

She hunkered down in front of the fireplace once more and picked up her journal, pouring out her hurt, anger, frustration, and confusion. She had no idea what to do about him. She didn’t trust him any further than she could throw him, but her unfulfilled lust seemed to think it was still okay to sleep with him. Did that make her no better than him if she succumbed to those urges? Her rational brain shouted that it totally did. But the beast gnawing at her belly still hungered for what Archer could give her.

Maybe if she got drunk, then she couldn’t be held responsible for what happened between them. She doodled in her journal and decided that using alcohol as an excuse was no excuse at all. Rats. Like it or not, she couldn’t have her cake and eat it, too. She either had to take the moral high ground and stay away from Archer or be no better than him. Reluctantly, she jotted down “No booze. And no fun. Dang it.”

She could always take the direct route and tell Archer outright that she wanted sex with no strings attached and without any more of his seductive lies to sugarcoat what they were doing. She noticed with a start that she had written down, “Tell Archer I want sex.” She crossed out the words hastily. “Bad idea. Very bad idea.” Moral high ground, dammit.

If only she were Marilyn Monroe. She would use her sex appeal to snare the guy in her web, take what she wanted and walk away. She looked down at her page and laughed. She’d written down “Channel Marilyn Monroe.” It wasn’t a half-bad idea. Not that she could even dream of pulling that one off.

The hour grew late, and the quiet hissing of the fire lulled her nearly into unconsciousness. She headed for the bedroom whose door she’d prudently left open all evening. The room was cool, but habitable. She pulled on a big, sloppy T-shirt and slipped under the fluffy down comforter. Flannel sheets. Give the owner of this place a gold star. The bed warmed up quickly, and she hunkered down blissfully, well satisfied with her getaway so far. It was actually fun being snowed in like this, given that all of her survival and comfort needs were met.

Soon. If not with Archer, she would get rid of her virginity one way or another soon and get on with a normal social life. And then she would make an effort to go on dates and have interesting social interactions.

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