Read Online Calling His Bluff by Amy Jo Cousins - Free Book Online
Authors: Amy Jo Cousins
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Giving a big stretch and one last yawn for verisimilitude, she reclined her seat until
it wouldn’t go back any farther and closed her eyes. She would console herself with
fantasies of meeting U2 and convincing one of those lovely Irish gents to fall madly
in love with her. Bono was married, she thought, but surely one of the other band
members had to be single. The Edge or Adam Clayton or, or…darn it, she could never
remember the fourth guy’s name.
She heard J.D.’s seat creak as he leaned back next to her. Too bad they were barely
speaking to each other, much less romantically involved. It was probably fun as hell
to make out on a private plane.
Larry Mullen! That was the fourth guy’s name! Was
he
married?
The rustling noises of J.D. settling himself more comfortably in the seat next to
her finally eased into relative silence. Bored with her fantasies already, she dared
to crack an eye open and sneak a glance at him. She caught him rubbing the heel of
his palm against his thigh. Leg cramps again, she’d bet.
It was a shame really, about the wife. He was just so lovely to look at. All thickly
muscled limbs and darkly forged features. Funny. Because she could look at Spencer,
her sister Addy’s husband, and see dispassionately what a good-looking man he was.
Tall and long and lean, throwing off an aura of whiplike strength and intensity. He
was attractive, definitely. But when she turned her thoughts to J.D… J.D. with the
bunching weightlifter muscles, J.D. with the wicked cheekbones and half-hidden grin
and speculative glint in his eye that
didn’t
say, “I wonder what it would be like to know that woman on an intellectual level,”
J.D. with the pirate’s long hair and the poet’s mouth, J.D. just, hmm…
Yum.
And, purr.
A giggle slipped out and she shut her eyes in a panic. When she thought the coast
was clear, she peeked again. Safe. He was still napping.
If only his good looks weren’t matched by an equally fine ability to make her feel
like an awkward teenager all over again. It had been bad enough to feel like an alien
species the first time around, waiting for her boobs to grow in and the braces to
finish straightening her teeth, all the while watching the older and oh-so-handsome
Joey Damico charm and disarm older girls who
needed
the bras they wore and were past the terrible pimples of adolescence. No doubt nothing
much had changed for him—women, she was sure, still fell at his feet with swooning
regularity. But things
had
changed for her. She was a grown woman, sure of herself and fully aware that she
was at least cute, with a possible upgrade to foxy if she put the time in on her hair
and makeup. Of course, his wife had been asked to pose for
Playboy.
Nothing like a nude pictorial to make a girl feel intimidated. Classier, yes, but
intimidated nonetheless.
She closed her eyes. Better to remove temptation from sight. She was doing just fine
so far in her unspoken vow to stop thinking of J.D. as a potential…well, anything,
and return to treating him like the old childhood chum he was.
Return to.
Who was she fooling? At no point in her life had she thought of J.D. with anything
other than lust in her heart. Even if at first she’d only been lusting for a chance
to hold his hand. She huffed out a breath and shook her head.
Foolishness.
It had been made clear to her long ago that if wishes were horses, beggars would ride,
but Sarah Tyler would never be the kind of woman who could hold the attention of a
man like J.D.
* * *
“So I’m not your main problem? What is?”
Sarah answered without thinking, which made this the first time he’d managed to get
an uncalculated answer out of her in the past two hours. He spread his legs and settled
a little deeper into his seat, trying to get comfortable on the plane.
“Convincing my brother that I’m not gonna sleep with you in Vegas.”
Sarah had always been easy to
it wouldn’t go back any farther and closed her eyes. She would console herself with
fantasies of meeting U2 and convincing one of those lovely Irish gents to fall madly
in love with her. Bono was married, she thought, but surely one of the other band
members had to be single. The Edge or Adam Clayton or, or…darn it, she could never
remember the fourth guy’s name.
She heard J.D.’s seat creak as he leaned back next to her. Too bad they were barely
speaking to each other, much less romantically involved. It was probably fun as hell
to make out on a private plane.
Larry Mullen! That was the fourth guy’s name! Was
he
married?
The rustling noises of J.D. settling himself more comfortably in the seat next to
her finally eased into relative silence. Bored with her fantasies already, she dared
to crack an eye open and sneak a glance at him. She caught him rubbing the heel of
his palm against his thigh. Leg cramps again, she’d bet.
It was a shame really, about the wife. He was just so lovely to look at. All thickly
muscled limbs and darkly forged features. Funny. Because she could look at Spencer,
her sister Addy’s husband, and see dispassionately what a good-looking man he was.
Tall and long and lean, throwing off an aura of whiplike strength and intensity. He
was attractive, definitely. But when she turned her thoughts to J.D… J.D. with the
bunching weightlifter muscles, J.D. with the wicked cheekbones and half-hidden grin
and speculative glint in his eye that
didn’t
say, “I wonder what it would be like to know that woman on an intellectual level,”
J.D. with the pirate’s long hair and the poet’s mouth, J.D. just, hmm…
Yum.
And, purr.
A giggle slipped out and she shut her eyes in a panic. When she thought the coast
was clear, she peeked again. Safe. He was still napping.
If only his good looks weren’t matched by an equally fine ability to make her feel
like an awkward teenager all over again. It had been bad enough to feel like an alien
species the first time around, waiting for her boobs to grow in and the braces to
finish straightening her teeth, all the while watching the older and oh-so-handsome
Joey Damico charm and disarm older girls who
needed
the bras they wore and were past the terrible pimples of adolescence. No doubt nothing
much had changed for him—women, she was sure, still fell at his feet with swooning
regularity. But things
had
changed for her. She was a grown woman, sure of herself and fully aware that she
was at least cute, with a possible upgrade to foxy if she put the time in on her hair
and makeup. Of course, his wife had been asked to pose for
Playboy.
Nothing like a nude pictorial to make a girl feel intimidated. Classier, yes, but
intimidated nonetheless.
She closed her eyes. Better to remove temptation from sight. She was doing just fine
so far in her unspoken vow to stop thinking of J.D. as a potential…well, anything,
and return to treating him like the old childhood chum he was.
Return to.
Who was she fooling? At no point in her life had she thought of J.D. with anything
other than lust in her heart. Even if at first she’d only been lusting for a chance
to hold his hand. She huffed out a breath and shook her head.
Foolishness.
It had been made clear to her long ago that if wishes were horses, beggars would ride,
but Sarah Tyler would never be the kind of woman who could hold the attention of a
man like J.D.
* * *
“So I’m not your main problem? What is?”
Sarah answered without thinking, which made this the first time he’d managed to get
an uncalculated answer out of her in the past two hours. He spread his legs and settled
a little deeper into his seat, trying to get comfortable on the plane.
“Convincing my brother that I’m not gonna sleep with you in Vegas.”
Sarah had always been easy to
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