His Curvy Enemy - Piper Sullivan Page 0,4

lot to get a rise out of her over the last three years, but it was always friendly.

Chris and Xander stared at each other and burst out laughing, once again drawing looks from the lanes around us. “Spoken like a man who’s never been sliced with that sharp tongue.”

“You guys can’t scare me.” It was pretty damn hard to be anything but amused or turned on around the petite spitfire with the raven hair and the gray eyes.

“We can’t,” Xander said with a devious smile. “But Eva can.”

They laughed again and, suddenly, I felt a lot less confident.

Eva

I was so close to the end of the work day that I could smell relaxation off in the distance. It was the smell of something greasy and fatty, washed down with something full-bodied and red. It was only Thursday, but already it had been a long and busy week. I was ready for an evening built around a bottle of wine.

A knock sounded on the door before Sophie’s blond head appeared in my office. “Are we still on for happy hour at The Mayflower?”

I nodded a little more eagerly than I should, but sometimes a girl just needed a little time with her girls. “Long day?”

Sophie nodded. “Long week. I’ll tell you all about it over cheap cocktails?”

I flashed a smile. “My favorite kind.”

“Sounds like a plan. Six thirty?”

I glanced at the clock on my computer screen and nodded. That gave me a good forty-five minutes of work before locking up for the day. “Meet you there.”

Sophie nodded and tapped on the door frame. “Try not to work too hard. You’re making the rest of us look bad.”

I laughed. “That’s just my killer sense of style.”

“If you say so.” Sophie’s voice rang out over the sound of my laughter and I laughed even harder, this time at her need to always have the last word.

“I do!” I called after her about a second before her office door clicked shut, smiling proud at the fact that the last word had been mine, after all. A chime sounded and I looked first to my phone to make sure I hadn’t forgotten a meeting with a client or a live social media event, but the phone was blank. The computer showed a reminder alert and it was for Oliver’s podcast. “Oh, good god, what now?”

Unable to help myself, maybe because I’m some kind of secret sadist, I clicked the link. I watched as the screen filled with his chiseled face, blond hair and golden scruff adorning his chin, blue eyes bright and shining, mouth curved up in amusement. He really was too handsome for any sane woman’s peace of mind.

I shook off thoughts of Oliver March’s model-gorgeous good looks and got back to work, listening to his macho schtick with his meat head du jour while I updated social media accounts and sent out press releases.

“Romance is a sham and everyone knows it. Just look at all the responses I got just for telling men the truth about what women really want.” Oliver leaned back in his chair, tossed his head back and laughed. “They’re outraged!”

He went on and on, bashing dating and love and romance. Relationships and marriage, too. Nothing pertaining to love was safe from his vitriol. Not even Time For Love. I froze when he mentioned the name of my company, and when the disparaging remarks came, I saw red.

I seethed.

I fumed.

I packed up my bags and marched toward The Mayflower, working up a good mad just in case I ran into the jerk this evening. When I stepped inside the bar, Olive and Sophie were already there with a pitcher of margaritas on the table between them. I marched over purposely, dropping my bag in one chair before claiming the final one for myself.

“Uh oh.” Olive’s eyes went wide and she filled the only empty glass to the brim before sliding it across the table in front of me. “Drink this and tell us what’s wrong.”

“Who said anything is wrong?”

Sophie barked out a laugh. “The way you stormed in here like a bat out of hell and marched over here like a general commanding her army. Sit. Talk.”

I glared at my friend and business partner. “Should I beg, too?”

“Not until after you tell us what, or who, has your panties twisted in a bunch.”

I sucked in a breath and growled at her. “Oliver March has no effect whatsoever on my panties. Got it?”

Sophie held her hands up defensively. “Whatever you say,