Locking Lips (Kiss Talent Agency Book 2) by Virna DePaul

Author:Virna DePaul [DePaul, Virna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Kiss Talent Agency Book 2
Publisher: Virna DePaul
Published: 2017-04-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Caleb

I get back to my rental place without even remembering driving there, I’m in such a daze. Or rather, I’m so preoccupied with thinking about Heather and having sex with Heather that I’m like a zombie. A sex-crazed zombie, who almost gave in and asked a woman over so we could continue the sex into the night.

I don’t invite women over. They invite me. And then I leave before they get clingy.

I rummage around in the fridge for a beer, because that’s the only thing I can think of that might get my brain in order. But I can’t stop the memories of Heather: how she tasted, how she moaned, how her body pressed against mine as I thrust inside of her.

I shudder. I don’t have time for this. For one, Heather Flint is a gigantic pain in my ass. Secondly, I don’t do commitment. I do flings, and that’s it. Heather’s the type of woman who’d want commitment: I can tell from just looking at her.

I’ve finished off my first beer and I’m about to start my second when someone knocks on my door. I growl. It’s close to ten at night—who the fuck is knocking on my door right now?

I’m about to ignore the knock when I hear Fiona’s voice calling out, “I know you’re in there, Johnny!”

I groan. The last thing I need is Fiona sniffing around like some bloodhound. But I also know that she’s spotted my rental car and will probably climb through my window if I don’t answer the door.

I let her in, not saying anything in greeting, but she doesn’t seem to care. She waltzes in with Bertie the dog under her arm. The fluffy monster barks at me and even snaps at my arm when Fiona brushes past me.

“Why are you here, Fiona?” I open the beer I just got from the fridge and take a deep drink, hoping the alcohol will save me from whatever she wants.

As usual, Fiona pouts. “I was just in the neighborhood—”

“Don’t lie. We both know you wouldn’t live a mile past Santa Monica.”

“You’re in a mood,” she says with a sniff. “Did someone turn you down?”

I glare at her over the rim of my beer. I want to tell her it was the exact opposite, but then she’ll start fishing for details and never leave. So I just shrug. “I’m tired. I wanted to watch Netflix and go to bed, but you showed up.”

“You’ve gotten boring in your old age.”

“I am boring, so that means you have no reason to stick around.” I walk out of the kitchen to the living room and flip on the TV, hoping Fiona gets the hint.

She doesn’t.

“You know,” she says as she sits down beside me, petting Bertie, who whines with each stroke of her hand, “I heard from a little birdie that you and Heather Flint just about tore each other apart at her shoot.” Fiona taps her bottom lip. “And I said, ‘surely not! Not Johnny, the most charming man alive!’”

I glare at her.

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