The Infatuation (Josh and Kat #1 , The Club #5) (16 page)

“Especially if you do all of it while wearing
sequins and fringe,” I say.

She laughs. “I have Hello Kitty sheets on my bed.
And I’m not talking about my childhood room at my parents’ house. I
currently have Hello Kitty sheets on my bed in my apartment.”

“Whoa.”

“Kitty Kat,” she says by way of explanation. She
winks.

“I figured.”

“Let’s see. Well, my all-time favorite movie is
The Bodyguard.
My close second after that is
Pretty
Woman
. And the bronze goes to
Magic Mike.”

“Okay, okay. That’s it,” I say, holding up my hands.
“I need nothing further. I’m now one hundred percent convinced
you’ve got a
vagina
.”

“Whew. What a relief. I was beginning to worry my
dick was really, really tiny.”

I laugh.

We sit and stare at each other for a long moment.
I’d pay an inordinate amount of money to know what she’s thinking
right now. Right after paying an inordinate amount of money to fuck
her.

“You said sleeping with a pro athlete is
one
of your fantasies?” I say.

“Correct. Well, it
was
.” She snickers and
makes a “check mark” motion with her finger in the air.

I grimace.

She laughs. “But, actually, my pro-athlete fantasy
is a bit more elaborate than what I did with Cameron. And it
involves an NFL player, actually—not a baseball star—so maybe that
checkmark was a wee bit premature.”

“Wow. Your fantasy is pretty specific, huh?”

She nods. “MVP of the Super Bowl, to be exact—in the
locker room after the big game.”

“Interesting. Are all your fantasies that
specific?”

She nods. “You have no idea.”

“You’ve got a lot of fantasies?” I ask.

“I do. Lots and lots.” She sips her drink.

I’m finding it a bit hard to breathe. “All of them
specific
?”

“Most of them.”

“Tell me some of them,” I say. I can feel my cheeks
blazing.

She leans forward. “I’ll tell you
all
of
them
—just as soon as you tell me what you wrote in your
application
.”

I smile. “Here we go again. No.”

She exhales. “Okay, then. No fantasies for you.” She
licks her lips. “Too bad. You would have liked them.”

I squint at her.

“Answer a question for me, Josh.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” I sip my drink.

“Did you sleep with someone while you were in New
York?”

I choke on my drink. Jesus. This woman’s gonna be
the death of me.

Under any other circumstances, I’d lie right now.
But after what she told me about Cameron, that’s obviously not an
option.

I take a long, deep breath. “Yeah.”

Her eyes light up. “
I knew it
. Such a
hypocrite.”

“I’m not a hypocrite. I slept with a girl I used to
know a long time ago. We both just happened to be in New York at
the same time, by sheer coincidence. Completely meaningless.”

She smiles. “Ah. Blast-from-your-past sex—definitely
not
a fantasy of mine.” She shudders. “That can be
dangerous.”

“Dangerous? How so?”

“It can bring up old feelings—and usually only for
one
person, which is
never
good.” She shudders
again.

I scoff. “There were no old feelings to bring up. We
dated for, like, four months seven years ago, and I don’t think we
had sober sex more than twice.”

She purses her lips. “How’d you guys wind up hooking
up after all this time?”

I exhale. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

I have no desire to tell this story. I exhale and
run my hand through my hair.

“Come on, Playboy. Spill it.”

I roll my eyes. “My good friend Reed happened to be
in New York last week because one of his bands was doing
Saturday Night Live.
Coincidentally, Reed’s ex-girlfriend
Isabel and her best friend—the girl in question—had just come back
from a week in France and stopped in New York so Isabel could do
this TV interview thing. The girls figured out Reed and I were both
in New York by total coincidence—thank you, Instagram—so they
invited us to go to the show taping with them. After the show, we
all went out for dinner and drinks and I... got... shit-faced...
and made an impulsive and extremely stupid decision.” I feel sick.
I wouldn’t normally be saying a word of this to anyone, let alone a
woman I’m interested in sleeping with. Why am I saying all
this?

Kat sips her drink quietly. “So your friend Reed’s
in a band?”

“That’s what you want to know after everything I
just said? You wanna know if my friend Reed’s in a band?”

She shrugs. “To start with, yeah.”

“No, Reed’s not in a band—he owns a record label. He
also co-owns a dance club here in Vegas. Maybe I’ll take you there
tonight.”

“Oh, I’d love that. I
love
to dance. Who’s
the band that played on
Saturday Night Live
?”

I pause. “That’s really what you’re curious about?
You’re not gonna ask me about
her
?”

“Oh, I’m getting there, trust me. I’m just playing
it cool.”

I laugh. “Ah, stealing a page out of my book.”

“It’s a good page.”

“Red Card Riot.”

“
That’s
the band on your friend’s label? Wow.
I love them.”

“Yeah, they’re awesome.”

She screeches the chorus from Red Card Riot’s
monster rock hit, “Shaynee.”

“Great song,” I say.

“Have you met them?” she asks.

“No, the guys in the band didn’t come out with us in
New York. I think they had some groupies to ‘meet and greet.’”

“I’m sure they did. They’re huge right now—your
friend Reed must be thrilled.”

“Yeah. He’s always had quite the knack for spotting
talent. A bit of a Midas touch.”

She takes a sip of her drink and then levels me with
an unflinching gaze. “So do you plan to see her again?”

“Okay, here we go.”

“I told you I’d get to it.”

“And you did.”

She pauses. “So do you plan to see her?”

“No.” I snort. “Never. Like I said. It was
completely meaningless.”

She chews the inside of her mouth.

“Do you plan to see Mr. Baseball again?” I ask, my
heart pounding.

“No.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“He wants to see
you
again, though,
right?”

She nods.

“You’re not gonna say yes when he asks?”

“He’s already asked twice. And I’ve already said no
both times.” She presses her lips together. “I told him very
clearly it wasn’t gonna work out. I was nice about it, but
clear.”

I make a caveman sound.

“What does that grunt mean?”

“It means I’m plotting his murder in my head.”

“Why? He didn’t do anything wrong.”

I grunt again.

She smiles. “You’re
jealous
?”

“Of course, I’m jealous. Fuck yeah, I am.”

“But I just told you I’m not gonna see him
again.”

“So what. I can’t get a certain visual out of my
head and it’s making me crazy.”

Her smile broadens.

“You like that I’m jealous?”

She thinks for a minute. “Usually, I’d say no—that I
hate jealous bullshit. But, yeah, I’m liking it.” She bites her
lip. “So does Miss Blast from Your Past wanna see you again?”

I nod. “She seems to think we’ve got some sort of...
soul connection
.” I make a face. “But I’ve already told her
it’s not gonna happen.”

“Hmmph.”

“What does that mean? Are you
jealous
of Miss
Blast from My Past?”

“Honestly?”

“Of course. Isn’t that what we’re doing here—playing
the honesty-game ’til we both wanna bang our heads against a
wall?”

She laughs. “Um... I’m more like
envious
, I
think, but, no, not
jealous
. I don’t get jealous when I’m
not in a relationship.” She glares at me, clearly telling me my
jealousy about Cameron Schulz is premature. “Now, if you were my
boyfriend
and I found out you’d fucked another woman, then,
yes, I’d be so jealous I’d burn your fucking house down. And then
I’d cut off your balls, roast them over the burning embers of your
house, smash them between two graham crackers with a Hershey bar
and make testicle-s’mores out of them, which I would then gobble up
as I stood over your writhing, whimpering body on the ground.”

Holy shit. I’m so shocked, I can’t even laugh. But
Kat does—in fact, she belly laughs and throws back her head,
completely enthralled with herself.

“And do you wanna know
why
I’d burn your
house down and make myself s’mores out of your balls, my dearest
Josh?”

I shake my head. “I’m too scared of you to even
venture a guess.”

“Because if you were my
boyfriend
, I would
never
,
ever cheat on you, I can promise you that on a stack
of bibles.
Never.
I’ve never cheated and I never will. And
here’s why: because I never agree to be someone’s
girlfriend
unless I’m one hundred percent willing to give the guy my whole
heart. And as the relationship progresses, if I’m feeling like
cheating, then I don’t stay. It’s scorched earth maybe, but a man
never, ever has to wonder where my feelings stand.” She picks up
her drink. “It also means that, if you were my boyfriend and you
cheated on me, then you’d undoubtedly be breaking my heart.”

I place my palm on my chest, steadying myself. I
look down at the bar, collecting myself. This girl just knocked the
wind out of me.

“But since you and I aren’t even dating, then, no,
I’m not
jealous
.” She takes a long sip of her drink.
“Because I can’t justify getting jealous when a man’s not mine to
begin with.”

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Kat,” I manage to
say.

“Thank you,” she says. “I’ve never met anyone like
you, either.”

“You’re like some bizarre, undiscovered species of
fish that washes ashore after a nuclear disaster and freaks
everyone the fuck out,” I say.

She laughs. “Wow. That’s your idea of a
compliment?”

“I’m normally much smoother than this, I assure you.
You bring out the Jonas in me.”

She laughs. “Jonas seems pretty damned smooth,
actually.”

“Not usually. Just with Sarah all of a sudden. She
brings out the Josh Faraday in him, I guess.”

She grins and I can’t help smiling back at her like
a fucking dope.

There’s a very long beat, during which we’re smiling
at each other, not saying a damned thing. Finally, Kat bites her
lip and touches my hand, sending electricity throughout my entire
body.

“For God’s sake, Playboy,” she purrs, “just tell me
what’s in your application so we can get this show on the road.
Please?” She squeezes my hand and licks her lips. “I’m suddenly
feeling extremely...
impatient
.”

Oh man, she’s good. She’s very, very good. But she’s
also shit out of luck. There’s no fucking way I’m giving this girl
my application. Period. And certainly not in exchange for the honor
of fucking her. Hell no, when she finally fucks me, it’s gonna be
for no other reason than she’s dying for it, not because I gave her
some stupid application.

I drain the rest of my drink. “Nope.” I clap my
hands together. “Getting this show on the road is entirely up to
you, Party Girl. All you have to do is kiss me, just once, and then
I’ll know you’ve conceded your demands and have finally decided to
find out the good old-fashioned way if I’m gonna chain you to a
donkey or not.”

She smirks. “No, no, no, my dearest Playboy; you’ve
got it backwards. What’s actually gonna happen is
you’re
gonna kiss
me
—thereby signaling to
me
you agree to my
demands and will give me what I want.”

We stare each other down.

“I’m not gonna give you my application, Kat. It’s
none of your fucking business.”

“Oh, I think you are.”

“Nope.”

She puckers. “I’m a really good kisser, Playboy.”
She raises an eyebrow. “At least, that’s what Cameron Schulz
said.”

I squint at her. “You’re evil.”

“I am.”

I motion to the bartender. “Check, please.” I glare
at her for a long beat. She looks so fucking sure of herself—and so
fucking hot, I doubt this girl’s experienced disappointment once in
her entire life. “Okay, Party Girl,” I say. “The time for chitchat
is over. I’m not gonna give you what you want—which means you’re
not gonna fuck me.” I make a sad face and she matches it. “So I
guess that means there’s only one thing left for us to do,” I
continue.

“And what would that be?”

“Dance, of course.”

Her face lights up. “Oh, I
love
to
dance.”

“Well, of course, you do. You’re the
Party Girl
With a Hyphen
, for fuck’s sake.”

She grins.

“It’s time for you to earn that nickname of yours,
babe.” I touch the cleft in her chin one more time and then put out
my hand. “Let’s go, baby. Time to paint Sin City red.”

Kat

Josh slams the taxi door shut and we bound toward
“the hottest dance club in Vegas,” hand in hand. A line of
immaculately dressed people waiting to get into the club wraps
around the side of the building and down the block, but,
apparently, lines don’t apply to Josh Faraday—because he grabs my
hand and pulls me past the throngs of people and straight to the
front doors.

“Hey, Barry,” Josh says to a very, very large black
man standing at the front door of the club.

The man beams a huge smile at Josh. “Joshua
Faraday,” he says, bumping fists with Josh. “I didn’t know you were
coming out tonight.”

“Yeah, it was super last minute. Is Reed in town, by
any chance?”

“Yeah, he just flew in this afternoon. Have you
texted him?”