For Seven Nights Only - Sarah Ballance Page 0,4
experience. Who better to show you the ropes?”
“Keep your ropes to yourself,” she shot back. “I’m not into BDSM.”
He couldn’t help the smile that stretched his lips. From the glimpse he’d enjoyed before she’d changed into the burlap, she definitely had potential. He liked her fire. And considering he couldn’t remember the last time a woman turned him down, she presented a challenge he was all too willing to take on. He stood, and finally the dog retreated, scampering under the table.
Kelsie’s eyebrows knit, and she frowned.
With a shrug, he said, “Hey, if you want to spend the rest of your life trying to save your rat dog from your cooking, that’s on you.” He snagged his shirt from the sink, taking a moment to wring out the excess water.
Her eyes flashed. “My cooking is not that bad.”
“Sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but I’m not sure I’ve had worse.” He didn’t fight the grin that threatened when her face twisted in indignation. “It’s a shame,” he said. “With a little bit of insider knowledge, a woman like you could have guys beating down the door, even if just to accompany you to your ex-boyfriend’s wedding.”
“Not my ex-boyfriend. My sister and my ex’s… Oh, forget it.” She dropped the arms she’d been flailing, momentarily crossing them before dropping them to the table in defeat.
He gave his shirt a final twist over the sink, then headed for the door. “Whatever. Have fun. Alone.”
“Wait!”
He paused with his hand on the knob. The dog bounced around, his shit lost. Probably over her sharp tone.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked, sounding exponentially less than thrilled. “Clearly you have experience as a womanizing troll, so you must know what men look for.”
He turned. “I can make you dateable.” Countering her jab, he added, “I don’t know about irresistible, but tolerable for sure.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t need to be irresistible. I need a date. In two weeks.”
He forced back a victorious grin. “Give me seven dates—seven lessons in snagging a man, if you will—and I guarantee you won’t be alone when you face your ex.”
After a long moment during which he could see the gears turning, she sighed defeat. Almost. “Date you? Do I have a choice?”
“Yep.” He turned the knob.
“Wait!” She turned a dozen shades of red as she fell against her chair. “Okay, fine. You’re on. And you’re not getting lucky on date number seven, so don’t even think about it.” Her eyes narrowed. “I know your kind. You’ll sleep with anything convenient, whether she’s your type or not. And I know I have too many brain cells to qualify.”
He laughed, even though her words hit a little too close to home. “Sweetheart, I don’t beg. If I have to ask, then I’m not interested.”
“Then I don’t have to tell you no kissing, either.”
He zeroed in on her soft, pink mouth. The glasses were so distracting, he’d barely noticed it before, and that was a shame. A mouth like that should definitely be noticed. “Wouldn’t dream of it. We’ll start in the morning.”
“Wait. What are we doing in the morning?”
He looked pointedly at her bug-eyed, oversized rat. “Dog park.”
Her brow furrowed. “The dog park? You think you can teach me to find a man at a dog park?”
“Babe, I can find you a date anywhere.” He opened the door, grinning hard when he found her attention pegged to his ass, and harder when she jerked her gaze up, turning a brighter shade of red when he caught her.
“I’ll be here at seven,” he said.
“In the morning?”
He shrugged. “Weeds out the guys who got shit-faced tonight.”
Behind those horrible glasses, she rolled her eyes, probably because admitting he had a point would be too painful. “Suit yourself,” she said. “I’ll be ready.”
She didn’t look like she meant it, but what did he care? He wasn’t looking to get involved with her or her drama. He only needed one thing out of that obstinate, train wreck of a woman.
And that was to hear her say he was right.
Chapter Two
On a what-was-I-thinking scale of one to ten, Kelsie’s arrangement with Sawyer pegged somewhere near a hundred. Getting involved with him in any capacity was a disaster waiting to happen. She couldn’t imagine his intentions being anything more altruistic than getting his ego—as well as another body part—stroked. Fortunately, that promised not to be an issue. As she’d told him, she’d seen his type of woman—boobs hanging out, dress up to there, and a high-pitched