The Infatuation (Josh and Kat #1 , The Club #5) (24 page)

Jonas drains his beer and puts the bottle down—a
good start—but then the moron doesn’t cross the room and take Sarah
into his arms.
Dumbshit.
Does he have fucking eyes? Or half
a brain? Clearly, that’s all Sarah wants him to do—take her into
his arms and give her a kiss. I always say, when it comes to women,
especially an angry one, just about any problem can be solved with
a fucking awesome kiss.

Jonas crosses his arms over his chest and stares at
Sarah.

I lean into Kat. “I feel like I’m watching
Wimbledon.”

She nods. “I think it’s Jonas’ serve.”

I snicker.

“What do you say, baby?” Jonas finally says. I nod
enthusiastically. Definitely a good start.

But Sarah doesn’t reply. She juts her chin at him,
her eyes on fire. She’s such a cutie, I don’t know how he’s
resisting her right now.

“You up for a little celebration tonight?” Jonas
asks.

I hold my breath. How could she possibly resist him?
He’s clearly at least trying to turn on the charm. But Sarah shrugs
and looks away.

“Why doesn’t he just walk over to her and
kiss
her?” Kat whispers to me.

“Maybe she’s told him kissing is off limits—maybe
she’s a fucking terrorist on a jihad,” I whisper back.

Kat scoffs. “Or maybe she’s just a frickin’
genius
.”

“Or maybe she’s painted herself into a corner she
doesn’t know how to get herself out of,” I say.

Kat grunts.

“I think we should celebrate,” Jonas says.

Sarah shrugs again. Oh man, she’s holding firm.

“She definitely learned that stonewalling thing from
her best friend,” I whisper.

“Hmmph.”

“Aw, come on, baby,” Jonas says, grinning at Sarah.
“You wanna have a little fun?”

“There it is,” I whisper. “Game, set, match.”

“Not so fast,” Kat whispers. “Not gonna be that
easy.”

“Twenty bucks says she lays down her weapon right
here.”

“You’re on. She’ll hold out for at
least
two
more asks. Trust me.”

“
Maybe
,” Sarah says.

“See?” I whisper. “He’s got her.”

Kat puts up a finger, as if to say, “Wait for
it.”

“And maybe
not
,” Sarah adds, pursing her
lips.

Kat puts out her hand. “Pay up.”

Jonas mocks Sarah’s pout. “What if I said
please
?”

“Double or nothing?” I whisper. “Next ask.”

“You’re on, fool,” Kat replies.

Sarah’s trying to suppress a smile. “Then I’d say
possibly
.”

“Ha!” I whisper. “Pay up.”

Kat puts up her finger.

“But not
probably
,” Sarah says.

“Fuck,” I say.

Kat puts out her palm again and I lay forty bucks in
it, rolling my eyes.

“What if I said pretty please?” Jonas asks, smiling
broadly.

“Double or nothing again?” Kat whispers.

I shake my head and Kat giggles.

Sarah shrugs again.

“Jesus. Glad I didn’t make another bet,” I whisper.
“She’s as stubborn as you.”

“What if I said pretty please
and
that we can
do whatever you want, anything at all, you name it?” Jonas
asks.

“Okay, whoa. I think he’s overdoing it,” I whisper
to Kat.

She giggles. “No, he’s doing the bare minimum.”

“
Anything at all
?” Sarah asks.

“Don’t do it,” I whisper to Kat.

“He will,” Kat says.

“
Anything at all
,” Jonas confirms.

Kat giggles. “Sucker.”

“Pussy,” I say.

“But sweet,” she responds.

Sarah touches the platinum bracelet on her wrist.
“You’ll be at my mercy completely?”

Jonas squints and bites his lip, considering.

“Don’t do it,” I whisper.

“He will.”

Jonas still hasn’t replied.

“Hang tough, man,” I whisper. “Fight the good
fight.”

“He’s toast,” Kat replies.

“Stand strong,” I whisper.

“He’s a goner.”

“Well? Will you be at my mercy or not?” Sarah prods
him. “What do you say?”

“He says yes,” Kat says.

“Definitely,” I agree.

“Hmm.” Jonas walks slowly toward Sarah like she’s
pulling him on a string. “What do I say?” he says softly. When he
reaches Sarah, he takes her face in his hands and whispers to her,
but I can’t make out what he’s saying. Clearly, whatever it is,
he’s saying it with passion.

“Really, you should owe me at least a hundred
bucks,” Kat whispers. “Are you always this stupid, or just when it
comes to women?”

“How was I supposed to know Sarah’s a terrorist like
you?”

“Who do you think taught her all her tricks?” Kat
says.

We both giggle.

Jonas and Sarah are whispering to each other and
kissing like they’re the only two people in the room.

“Hey, PG,” I say, leaning into Kat. “Why’d you look
like you were gonna have a stroke when Henn said it might take five
days before he’s able to crack The Club’s system?”

She waves me off. “Oh nothing.”

“Tell me. You looked like you were gonna throw up
right then.”

“Which isn’t an unusual look for me, unfortunately.”
She shoots me an adorable smile. “Sorry about your shoes
again.”

I chuckle. “No worries. What’s going on?”

She rolls her eyes. “I just, you know, I’ve got a
job. Bills to pay. I don’t have enough vacation days to cover me
staying in Vegas that much longer. If it takes five days for us to
complete this ‘mission,’ whatever the heck it is, I’ll probably
have to quit my job. Or maybe take an unpaid leave, if they’ll let
me, I dunno. But it’s okay. Wild horses couldn’t drag me away if
Sarah needs me here. It’s a no-brainer. Don’t worry about it.”

Kat

By the time the second round of room service arrives
at Josh’s suite, Henn, Josh, and I have been extracting and
analyzing information off the bad guys’ computers and phone for
almost five hours straight.

“Woot!” I squeal when the room service guy spreads
the plates of goodies on a glass table in the middle of the suite.
“Now this is my idea of heaven on earth.”

We all gather around the table, drooling at the
decadent food in front of us.

“Yummalicious,” I say, rubbing my hands together
with glee. “Everything looks so tantalizing, it’s hard to decide
where to start.”

“That’s exactly what women say when they throw
themselves at me,” Henn says. “
Where. To. Start
?”

I laugh.

Henn considers the various plates of dessert in
front of him. “It’s a no-brainer—chocolate cake is the clear
entry-point.”

“Careful. Chocolate cake is a gateway drug,” Josh
says.

“I’ll risk it,” Henn says.

“I like the way you think, Henn. YOLO, right?” I
shoot Josh a wink and he smiles.

“Slide that plate between us, Kitty Kat,” Henn says.
“We’ll share.”

I hand Henn a fork and slide the cake plate between
us. “Josh? You wanna succumb to death by chocolate with us?”

“Nah, I’m a cheesecake man, through and through.
Send that bad boy down here.”

Henn slides the cheesecake across the table toward
Josh.

“Hey, Josh, shoot that apple pie over to papa,” Henn
says, a huge bite of chocolate cake stuffed in his mouth.

“Here you go, papa,” Josh says.

“Oh no, did they forget the ice cream?” I ask.
“Please, God, no.”

“It’s right here,” Henn says, shoving the bowl of
ice cream at me. “Save your prayers for world hunger or curing
cancer.”

“Or Seahawks games,” Josh adds.

I laugh.

When our eating frenzy has slowed down a bit, we
lean back in our chairs, patting our stomachs.

“That hit the spot,” I say. “Thinking so hard really
works up an appetite. Who knew?”

Henn laughs.

“I don’t know how you do it day after day, Henn,” I
say. “Just a few hours of thinking hard and my brain hurts.”

“It’s not thinking hard for Henn. Like I keep
saying, he’s a fucking genius,” Josh says.

“Thanks, man.”

“So what’s next, boss?” Josh asks.

“We send all the data we’ve extracted through
translation software and hope whatever comes out the other side
leads us to our next rabbits to chase.”

“How long ’til you crack into their system, you
think?” Josh asks.

“There’s no way to know for sure, but I’m guessing
just a couple days. Maybe four or five, outside.”

My stomach turns over and my chest tightens. Damn.
I’m definitely gonna have a problem keeping my job if this takes
much longer than another day or two. I glance up at Josh and he’s
staring at me intently. I half-smile at him, but I’m suddenly
wracked with anxiety.

“I tell you one thing, though,” Henn says. “Having
you guys helping me out tonight sure sped things up a ton. Probably
shaved a couple days off.”

“It was amazing watching you work,” I say.

“Yeah, that’s what all the pretty girls say, Kitty
Kat.”

I laugh. “I’m sure they do, Henny.”

“Actually, no, they don’t. That was humor borne of
pain.”

“That’s all humor is,” Josh says. “The flipside of
pain.”

“Hey, no deep conversations allowed here,” I say.
“Only superficial banter, please. And cake.”

“Amen,” Josh says. “No argument from me.”

“Henn, I can’t imagine why girls aren’t tackling you
to the ground as you walk down the sidewalk,” I say. “You’re
obviously the total package.”

“Why, thank you.”

“Which means whatever’s not working for you can be
traced to whatever you’re doing or
not
doing to get their
attention
.
What’s your go-to move to close the deal, if you
know what I mean?”

“No, I don’t know what you mean. That’s the problem.
I have no idea what you mean
.”

I shoot a worried look at Josh. “The patient is
flatlining, doctor. We need the crash cart.”

Josh laughs. “He’s too nice—that’s the problem,”
Josh says. “Just dick it up a little bit, Henn, and women will be
elbowing each other in the earholes to get to you, I guarantee
you.”

“‘
Dick it up
’?” I repeat.

“Absolutely. There’s a time and place for nice and
sensitive and sweet—and a time and place for dicking it up. And
something tells me Henn needs to introduce more dick into his
repertoire.”

“
That’s
your advice for attracting women?
‘Dick it up’?”

“Absolutely.” He winks at Henn. “Trust me, man. Just
throw a big ol’ steaming pile of ‘I don’t give a fuck’ on every
woman who crosses your path for the next month, and you’ll have to
beat the babes off with a stick.”

“Sorry, Josh,” Henn says. “No offense, but your
advice is utterly worthless to me. When
you
dick it up, I’m
sure women wanna birth your babies—but if I were to dick it up even
a little bit, women would just call me a dick and walk away.”

“That’s not true, man,” Josh says. “When it comes to
women, certain things are tried and true, no matter who you
are.”

I sit back in my chair, smirking at Josh. “Please,
oh wise and powerful one, tell us
more
nuggets of wisdom
about how any man, no matter who he is, can bag a babe.”

“I’d be glad to. Well, for one thing, women
think
they wanna be chased—that’s what all the movies and
books tell ’em they want—but they don’t. Not really.”

“We
don’t
?” I ask. “Huh. Fascinating.”

“It’s true. You chase a woman too hard, she thinks
you’re desperate—and women
can’t stand desperate
.” He grins
at me. “That’s rule number one. If you do the equivalent of driving
to her house and holding a boom box over your head, you might as
well hand her your dick and balls in a Ziplock baggie, too, ’cause
you’re not gonna need ’em any more.” He leans back, looking at me
with smoldering eyes. “You always gotta leave her wondering, keep
her guessing—at least a little bit.” He winks at me. “That’s how to
keep her wanting more.”

I lean forward, my eyes locked on his. “Oh, so, for
instance, if a guy’s got a business trip to New York for a whole
freaking week, then he should just text brief messages to a woman
like, ‘Hey’ and ‘What’s up?’—just enough to let the babe feel like
he’s thinking about her but brief and superficial enough to keep
her wondering if he’s even interested at all?”

Josh grins broadly. “
Exactly
. Let her wonder
if you give a shit or not. Keep her off-balance. And then just sit
back and watch her eat out of the palm of your hand the next time
she sees you.”

“Hardly,” I say.

“Dude. What the fuck are you two talking about?”
Henn asks.

Josh ignores him. “But you have to be wary. Because
she’s a demon spawn and she’ll start fucking with you—doing shit
like demanding to see something you’ve never shown
anyone,
something that’s none of her fucking business—all while acting like
what she’s asking for is perfectly reasonable and that
you’re
the crazy one if you say no.”

“Interesting. Maybe she’s not playing head games,
though—ever think of that? Maybe you’re reading the situation
wrong, completely misunderstanding her motivations.”

“No, that’s just bullshit justification for
sociopathic behavior.”

“
Sociopathic
?”

“Borderline.”

“Wow.”

“The bottom line is that she’s just a goddamned
terrorist—which means that on principle alone, you must never, ever
give in to her unreasonable demands.
You just gotta keep
your eye on the prize—the big picture—and stay strong.”

“What the fuck are you two talking about?” Henn
asks.

“And the big picture is . . .?” I ask, completely
ignoring Henn. “Pray tell?”

“You don’t know?”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t.”

“Well, if you haven’t figured it out by now, then I
can’t help you.”