Definitely Naughty

“Oh, yeah,” she said, shaking her head as if the explanation wouldn’t have been necessary if only he’d been paying attention. “I’m assuming you know what a muse is.”

“Yes. How they relate to me in any way isn’t clear, however.”

“From the sky, Liam. Dropped from nowhere. Anyway, what a muse does is inspire creativity. That’s exactly what my problem’s been. Why I can’t come up with a great idea for the window. You fall into my hand like a gift, and in seconds I can feel my juices getting all stirred up.”

His reaction to that last comment wasn’t good. Not good at all.

“I knew it was destiny. The Fates, you know? There’s no law that says a muse has to be a woman. I mean, come on. That would be crazy.”

“Yeah. That part would be crazy.”

She didn’t actually say, “Obviously,” but she managed to get the point across.

“Not to put a damper on things, but I don’t think this whole muse business is up my alley. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

It was as if he’d taken away her favorite kitten. “You do realize my entire future is at stake. If I blow this window, I’ll never get another chance like it. My boss is one of the most connected people in the world. She could literally ruin me. Forever.”

“I don’t think—”

“Listen, you don’t understand. I can’t have you distracted by other dates, at least not for now. But don’t worry, this isn’t a long-term proposal. It’s just until Christmas Eve Eve. And it’s not even that hard. I mean, all I really need from you is lots and lots of sex.”

His next words vanished from his mind. As did most of his working brain cells. “What’s that you say?”

Chapter Three

She hadn’t planned out exactly how she would ask Liam for a one-night stand, but telling him she wanted “lots and lots of sex” might have been taking it a step too far. Although his rapid blinking and open mouth could also suggest a nail hit directly on the head. Or an imminent solicitation charge.

Instead of answering his question, she moved her right foot until it bumped against his shoe. Slipping off her heel, she shimmied up his pant leg until she found skin. One quick rub with her big toe made him blush. And stammer. But he didn’t move away. That took getting arrested off the table.

“Look, Aubrey…”

Feeling much more in control of the situation, she relaxed against the backrest and waited. She liked him flustered. She’d put that right at the top of her list of Fun Things to Do with Muses.

His jaw moved as if he was getting ready to speak, but it took a while for the words to form. “This is all very…weird,” he said finally. “You don’t really expect me to just jump on board with this, do you?”

“Why not? The offer’s legit. We can even go back to your place if it’ll make you feel better.”

His foot lifted, dislodging her toes. “This something you do often?”

“What, find a trading card floating from the night sky? No.”

“Asking men you’ve just met for lots of sex.”

“Not often. Only when it feels right. Haven’t you ever had a one-night stand?”

He cleared his throat, looked up and to the left. Ha, she knew what that meant, even if she wasn’t a detective. He was making up an answer right this second. “No. Okay, yes, but not usually—”

“Before snacks?” she said, interrupting. “No problem. I’ll wait until we’ve eaten to ask again.”

“That’s not—You do realize I’m with the police.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“You don’t—” He sighed. “I should have ordered something stronger.”

Aubrey contained her grin. While this part of the evening was turning out better than she’d hoped, she couldn’t wait to see how entertaining he would be once they were alone. She’d bet that blush of his went all the way down his chest. She’d also wager that he was right this second coming up with justifications for saying yes. Would it be better to help him out now, or wait a bit?

Their drinks were coming, so she’d wait. Give him time to get creative. It was clear he was hooked, even if he insisted on fighting with the lure.

“Why’d you become a policeman?”

“What?”

“Being a police detective isn’t the same as being a CPA or a math teacher. The decision can’t be a simple one. There’s a lot of political and social significance to the job, pro and con. Maybe you come from a family of cops? Or maybe a police officer had an impact on your early life?”

He closed his mouth. For a moment, he didn’t do anything but gawp at her. Then he drank from his beer, but there didn’t appear to be any left. When he put it down, it was very decisive. “Now you want small talk?”

“Small talk? I didn’t ask about the weather. A career is a big deal. The biggest, except for love.”

He sighed, and his very gorgeous jaw clenched. “Fine, now you want a deep discussion?”

She nodded. “The food’s going to take a few minutes. And I’m interested.”

Before he could respond, fresh drinks replaced the empties, and just as the waitress turned away, Liam jolted, stopping her with an urgent plea. “Wait.”

Tracy, whose nametag had somehow moved closer to her boob since her last visit, looked at him with a practiced pout. “Can I help you?”

“Whiskey. Double. Please.”

“We’ve got Bushmills, Concannon, Knappogue Castle, Clontarf, Jameson and Paddy. Any of those turn you on?”

He looked up at her, blinking again.

Aubrey reduced her tip by five percent.

“Bushmills. Thanks.”

“Welcome, honey,” Tracy said with a wink. She turned back to face the bar without giving Aubrey so much as a glance.

Ten percent.

“Sorry,” he said, his attention back where it belonged. “Why don’t you tell me about this big window display that’s got you so upset?”

“Well, all right, although you’ve already got the salient points. It’s a Christmas theme, naturally. And that makes it harder because, my God, everything’s already been done. The whole reason Yvonne hired me is because she saw what I did at this little boutique in Park Slope. That one cost virtually nothing. Just a few colored lights, and some borrowed hay.”

“You borrowed hay?”

She shrugged. “Not much. It worked, though. Because the pieces I chose for the display were all elegant as hell, a crystal chandelier, a silver tea set, clothes from the ’30s and ’40s. But good stuff, expensive stuff. I even had a legit Louis Quatorze commode that went to Christie’s afterward.”