Josh shot her a glare. She did her best not to laugh.
“She’s in there,” the assistant said, pointing to a door and moving down the hall. “Yell if you need me.”
Josh paused in front of the closed door, but before he could knock, it burst open.
“Finally,” a throaty but feminine voice purred. “If you knew how I’d been counting the hours.”
Josh dropped his hand to Charity’s waist and pushed her in the room first. Charity felt like the sacrificial goat in some pagan ceremony. She stepped into a plain room with a large, well-lit mirror, a few chairs, a sofa and a long counter. But what really caught her attention was the woman standing by the mirror.
She was tall, maybe five-ten or eleven, with flaming red hair that tumbled in loose curls down to the middle of her back. Her body was lean, yet curved in all the right places and breasts the size of melons spilled out of a low-cut blouse.
Melrose wasn’t just beautiful, Charity thought, feeling as if there wasn’t enough air in the room. She was perfect. The boobs didn’t look real, but they suited her. Melrose was a walking, breathing male fantasy. Charity went from sacrificial goat to invisible.
“Josh,” Melrose breathed, crossing the room in two long strides, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her mouth to his.
Charity blinked in astonishment, then touched her own arm to make sure she really was there.
“Melrose,” Josh said, grabbing her wrists and holding her in place while he stepped back. “This is Charity Jones. My girlfriend.”
Girlfriend. Charity hadn’t been expecting that, and tried to figure out if he’d said it because he meant it or if it was a form of self-protection.
“Hello,” Melrose said, never taking her eyes off Josh. “You’re racing again. That’s good. The sport needs someone like you. God knows, I do. I’m staying in town tonight. I have a luscious room at a little B&B by the lake. Big tub, big bed, big fireplace. The interview will air tonight. We can watch it together. Naked. Say yes?”
Charity went from feeling less-than to pissed in a nanosecond. She stepped between Josh and the piranha, held out her right hand and forced a smile.
“Hi,” she said loudly. “I’m Charity.”
“We’ve met,” Melrose said coolly, still staring hungrily at Josh.
“Apparently not,” Charity told her firmly. “Hey.” She poked Melrose in the chest, right above her left breast. “Look at me.”
Melrose slowly lowered her cool, green gaze. “You didn’t just touch me.”
“I did and I’ll do it again, if I have to. Yes, Josh is very crushworthy. And the sex, as I’m sure you’ll remember, is fantastic. But there’s a line between wanting and being a complete cliché. No offense, Melrose, but you’re not in a prime-time soap. This is real life. And Josh is with me.”
JOSH HAD KNOWN THERE was a risk involved when he’d asked Charity to join him today. But he’d been willing to deal with her being pissed—mostly because Melrose wasn’t the kind of woman who accepted rejection easily. He’d thought having Charity along would make things easier. And he’d have a witness to anything that happened…or didn’t happen. He hadn’t expected her to unleash her inner tiger.
She stood glaring at Melrose, fearless, beautiful and determined. Not many women were willing to take on a powerhouse reporter. Damn, Charity was good.
Melrose looked from Charity to him, then back. “I haven’t heard Josh tell me no.”
“Josh, would you please respond to Melrose’s very graphic invitation?” Charity said.
She didn’t bother to turn around. He liked that she didn’t worry that she had to look at him or give hints as to what he should say.
“No, thanks,” he said. “I’m with Charity.”
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