In Her Best Friend's Bed

Abby looked down at herself and smoothed a hand down her front, over her flat stomach. Trevor’s eyes followed it intensely. “This old thing?” she laughed. “With the back, and the slit, I thought it might be a bit too much for tonight.”

“Anything goes in Vegas,” he offered with a smile.

“It sure does. What’s the old saying? ‘What happens in Vegas—’”

“‘Stays in Vegas.’ Yeah,” he finished for her and trailed off. They watched the lights and the action on the street below them. He heard her dress rustle and he felt her shift closer to him, until they were touching, side by side. He looked at his hands grasping the railing, and he saw her fingers slide across it, creeping until they touched his. The same electric current he’d felt earlier, when he’d had his hand on her back, jolted from her fingers to his.

He turned away from the railing to face her, and he brought his hand to rest lightly on her hip, ushering her closer to him, until they were almost pressed together. Her breasts grazed his chest and he tensed, his hand roamed under the jacket to settle once again on her bare lower back. This time, he wasn’t about to pull away from her. He looked down at Abby, unable to take his eyes away from her parted lips. He wanted to kiss her more than anything.

Trevor heard nothing but the faint notes of music that flittered up to them from below. He leaned in and brought his lips to hers, barely skimming them, just enough to get the smallest taste, but Trevor wanted more, and he took her bottom lip between his own, and he barely heard it when someone called out to him. He jerked back quickly, away from Abby, and they turned to the newcomer. Trevor cursed when he saw that it was Jamie, whose hand was tightly clasped in Maya’s.

“There you guys are,” he said and turned to Trevor. “I should have known I’d find you up here.”

“And you did,” Trevor responded. It seemed Jamie was oblivious to what they had interrupted, but one look at Maya’s raised eyebrow told him that she didn’t miss much. “What’s up?”

Jamie’s smile was sheepish. “I, uh, just wanted to show Maya the view up here at night.”

Trevor laughed. “Sure.” He was skeptical that the view was the only thing Jamie wanted to show Maya. “It really is something else, though.”

Jamie chuckled at Trevor’s doubt, clapped his palm on Trevor’s shoulder. “Sorry we haven’t been able to talk all night, man. Lots of hands to shake.”

“No problem,” Trever said. “I get it. It’s been a crazy night for you. How are you holding up?”

“Honestly, I’m exhausted,” Jamie replied, dragging a hand through his dark hair. He threw a glance at Maya. “We might take off.”

“You’re leaving your own party?” Abby asked.

“Yeah, I’ve already spoken to everyone I needed to,” Jamie explained. “We need to hit the sack. It’s been a big day.”

“And I repeat—sure...” Trevor smirked at his friend. He knew Jamie was going to bed with his new fiancée, but he doubted that either of them would be getting much sleep.

“It’s been a long day,” Maya concurred, unable to pry her eyes away from Jamie’s face.

Abby nodded, clearly unconvinced, as well. “Uh-huh.”

“You both suck,” Jamie said, laughing and looking back and forth between Trevor and Abby. “Anyway, we’re leaving. But would you guys like to get breakfast tomorrow morning before your flight home?”

“Yeah, sure.” Trevor nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

“Me, too,” Abby responded.

“Great. Let’s meet at the café here in the hotel. Around eleven o’clock?”

Trevor and Abby both nodded in agreement, and they watched as Maya pulled Jamie away from them, into the elevator and most definitely down to their penthouse suite. Before Trevor knew it, he and Abby were once again alone.

Abby was first to speak. She exhaled a breath. “You know, I should be getting to bed, too.” She let out a yawn that Trevor knew was forced. But he walked her to the elevator and they waited for the car that would take them down.

When they got to the main floor, he escorted her to the elevators that would bring them to the guest rooms. Trevor stopped Abby before she got into an elevator alone. “Want me to walk you up?” he asked her. His intentions were mostly those of a complete gentleman, who wished to see her to her room safely. But part of him was hopeful that she would invite him into her room so that they could finish what they’d started.

She shook her head, dashing his hopes. “No. It’s not necessary. I’m a big girl.”

Trevor didn’t want to push it. He knew that Abby was a strong woman. She didn’t need or want a man to look after her. If he insisted on walking her to her door, it would just make her angry. “Even so. Sure you don’t need the company?”

“I’m sure. I’ll be fine.” She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“Why don’t you text me when you get up there, though? Just so I know you made it all right.”

“Fine,” she said, laughing as she walked into the elevator. “See you in the morning.”

The doors closed between them, and Trevor was all alone in the lobby. He sighed and downed the rest of his champagne, emptying the glass he still held in his hand. He walked back into the club. The party was still in full swing and he surveyed the room full of strangers. He figured he might as well head up to his room. He and Abby had to fly back to Montreal the next afternoon, and shortly after landing, he would have to head to the club for some meetings that he’d scheduled with a couple of vendors, and he had to finish the staff schedule for the upcoming week and input the end-of-month inventory numbers, and he had to make arrangements for upcoming holiday events booked at the club... His to-do list was a mile long.

On the other hand, he knew that it would be a while before he’d be in Vegas again, so he might as well enjoy the party and the free drinks and the glamourous company while he could. He was never one to turn down a good party. “I can sleep on the plane,” he muttered with a shrug.

He really wished that Abby had stuck around. He missed her. She was great to talk to. They had become such good friends in the past couple of months. It turned out that they had a lot in common and enjoyed each other’s company. They went to movies together, had dinner together, talked through their respective problems—Abby would even confide in him about the men in her life.

Alone, he walked back to the bar and ordered another drink. He sat at an empty stool and turned around to once again survey the room, thinking about Abby back in her room, and how he wished he was up there with her, but she’d rebuffed his offer. And he took that as a definite sign that she was interested in nothing more than friendship with the likes of him.

“Is this seat taken?”

Trevor turned his head to the voice and smiled when he saw a gorgeous woman in a short red dress standing beside the empty stool next to him. He held out a hand, gesturing to the stool. “It’s all yours.”

* * *

ABBY TAPPED HER foot as she waited for the elevator to take her to her floor. She folded her arms and realized that she was still wearing Trevor’s jacket. She pulled the collar to her nose and inhaled his scent as it completely enrobed her. She could still feel the tingle of his lips on hers. And she knew that if one brush of his mouth against hers had elicited such a reaction, why hadn’t she asked Trevor to come up with her? He’d offered. But for some reason she’d said no. Was it fear? If she had invited him up, then their friendship would have been irrevocably changed, and his friendship was too valuable to her. But, God, she shivered at the thought, what a night it would be.

Abby took out her phone and saw the many messages from Luke. She sighed and walked out of the elevator when the doors pulled apart at her floor, heading for her room, but she paused outside her door. Luke had broken her first rule. Don’t get serious. She didn’t want a serious relationship. Just a little bit of fun. She turned her head and looked longingly at the door she knew belonged to Trevor’s room. He was still down there at the party and she could have been, as well. She checked her watch and, with a sigh, she realized that it was still pathetically early. Determined, Abby turned on her heel and walked back to the elevator.

Before she could change her mind, the doors opened and she stepped back inside the same elevator she had just vacated and drummed her fingers against her thigh as she counted the numbers as she descended to the lobby. Maybe she and Trevor could continue the kiss they’d shared. Maybe more.

When she got back to the nightclub, the party was still in full swing, the lights had dimmed and the music had gotten louder. More people were dancing. Abby squinted into the crowd, scanning the room for the familiar face that she sought. But it was his laugh that she somehow heard over the din of the club before she could pick him out of the crowd. He was sitting at the bar. She smiled and started to walk to him. She was almost there when she stopped short and ducked behind a couple of men enjoying themselves nearby. When she got around them, she had a clear view of the bar.

And next to Trevor was a woman. A glamorous brunette in a short dress on the bar stool next to him. Trevor smiled at her. Abby’s mouth dropped in shock, outrage or maybe disappointment. Trevor had just been kissing her on the rooftop, and here, just minutes afterward, he sat, obviously making up for lost time, drinking with another woman.

Disappointment and anger roiling through her system, Abby exhaled and left the club. She pushed the call button for the elevator several times. Coming after him had been a mistake. One she wouldn’t make again. She might not be looking for a relationship, but she also couldn’t get involved with a man like Trevor. She was glad she’d seen him because, even though she would still count him as a friend, she now knew exactly what type of guy Trevor Jones was. And it was all she needed to affirm her decision to stay away from men in general. Whether they were quick to fall in love or they were players, it was best for her to stay away from all of them.

2

Three months later...

“WHAT CAN I get you?” Abby leaned over the bar to hear the order of a heavily made-up woman over the pounding music. Swerve was packed that night and the music was loud and driving. Wednesday nights were never usually so busy. But semester break had started and the college students were out en masse.

The woman, definitely past college age by a number of years, pursed her red lips. “Can I get two screaming orgasm shots?”

Abby had no idea what the woman was talking about.

She racked her brain for whatever a screaming orgasm shot could be, and she pulled out her phone to look up the recipe, but when she looked over at Trevor, who was busy filling his own orders, and realized that she had the opportunity to have a little fun with him.

“Hey, Trev,” she called across the bar. “Think you can give this lady a couple of screaming orgasms?”

Trevor smirked and finished his own drinks before sauntering over to her. “I think I can handle that.” He grinned. “Wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.”

Abby rolled her eyes and walked away. Of course the blonde wearing all that makeup was most definitely Trevor’s type. And even though she basically served the woman up to Trevor, Abby couldn’t help but feel a small wrench of something—hurt? Jealousy?—in the pit of her stomach as she watched Trevor flirt with her. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced since Vegas, seeing Trevor with that other woman at the bar, just after they’d kissed. Abby had never told him that she’d come back to the bar three months ago and seen him with that woman.

And now it was too late. Their relationship had long transcended potentially romantic to become strictly platonic. Sure, they were flirty and frequently peppered their conversation with naughty double entendres, but they were friends, and, with Maya living in Las Vegas, Abby greatly appreciated having a good friend, even if he was definitely not the type of guy she was going to date...if she was ever going to date anyone again.

Which she wasn’t.

But being friends hadn’t stopped her from still feeling his lips on hers, and the promise of more that flowed from just a simple graze of their lips, the heat of his hand on her bare back...

Abby looked up. She was still in Swerve. Still in Montreal, not on top of the roof of Swerve’s Las Vegas location; meanwhile, dozens of thirsty patrons lined her bar. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by some guy, hunky sexpot, or not. She had to regain her focus. She had to concentrate on herself, getting her career back on track and not let herself get distracted by men, the ones who wanted a commitment or guys like Trevor. Bad boys. Players. She shook her head and got back to work.

Abby reached into the cooler and took out a couple of beer bottles. She popped off the tops and passed them to a man who was trying to catch her eye. She ignored his advances and continued on to the next customer. She cast another quick glance at Trevor, just as he turned his head and caught her looking at him. He pulled away from the woman, moving to fill other drink orders. But the woman called out to him again and reached out, grabbing his forearm, her long red nails grazing the dark ink that covered it. She handed him her card and Abby was surprised that the woman didn’t kiss it first, to leave a print of her red lipstick on it. Trevor smiled and pocketed it.

And another notch on the bedpost...

Why did she care?

When Trevor continued his work, Abby watched the woman walk away, carrying her shot glasses to a friend at a nearby table. Trevor passed behind Abby, the hard muscles of his chest grazing her back as he side-stepped around her in the tight space. She could feel his heat through the material of both their shirts. He mumbled a soft, awkward apology near her ear, his warm breath rippling over her, the deep timbre of his murmur rattling around in her brain. She had to force herself to shake away the wave of desire that passed through her body. There was nothing remotely romantic about the contact. They were sharing limited space behind the bar, and they bumped together or brushed past each other on a nightly basis. This time should have been no different.

But tell that to her now-moist panties...

Abby went about her work, making drinks for thirsty patrons. A customer ordered two margaritas on the rocks, with salt. Abby nodded her approval, looking for the ingredients. She picked up a bottle of tequila and grabbed the lime juice. She wet the rims of the glasses with a lime wedge and dunked them in a dish of coarse salt. Abby loved a good margarita and wished that she was on the other side of the bar ordering it, instead of the person making it. She looked at the bottles in front of her and realized one was missing. She went to the backup bottles of liqueur to find another, but found none.

“Trevor, where’s the extra Cointreau?” she called without looking at him.

“Try the cupboard below the glassware,” he suggested.

Abby bent at the waist and checked the shelves. Trevor was right—it was exactly where he’d said it would be. She stood and turned to face him and he quickly looked away, as if she’d caught him checking her out. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

She glanced around the crowded bar. Bartending wasn’t exactly what she’d envisioned her career would be after graduation. Thankfully, Trevor had offered her a job at Swerve. But as her feet ached in the heels she insisted on wearing—they make my legs look great with this skirt—she thought about the dozens of applications for marketing positions she’d submitted around the city and hoped that she would hear something promising soon. She had an interview the next morning. Maybe it would be the one that got her out from behind the bar, where Trevor distracted her at every turn with accidental physical contact, the smell of his cologne, his dark chuckle when he laughed...

She paused for a moment and watched Trevor at work, his masterful, strong hands as he made drinks. He tossed a vodka bottle behind his back with one hand and then, with the other, he reached for a cocktail shaker and twirled it, as well, before catching it. The man was good. He was in complete control. He was built for that type of work, and the awards and accolades he’d won were well earned.

Abby’s focus returned to those hands, though—his long fingers, the soft, dark hair covering corded wrists that flexed with every movement, the collage of black ink that snaked up his forearms, starting at his wrists and disappearing under the material of his black shirt that he’d rolled up to his elbows. She imagined him doing other things with those hands. Hot things. Sexy things. To her. Running them up and down her body until she cried out...

Abby blinked out of her fantasy. God, focus. She and Trevor were coworkers and friends. That was it. Whatever could have happened between them romantically, that kiss, was in the past. The moment was over. She glanced up and saw the blonde woman standing with a friend at a nearby table. She waved a perfectly manicured hand at Trevor and Abby saw him smile and wink back at the woman. She sighed and moved on to the next customer, as she remembered her resolve to not fall under the spell of a man. She could do better, live for herself and no one else, not like Screaming Orgasm Lady or even her own mother.

She put all sexy thoughts of Trevor out of her head, and she got back to what he was paying her to do.

3

THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Abby pulled into the empty parking lot of Swerve. She was running late, having just come from her job interview. She thought that it went well, and her hopes were high. Still wearing her suit, she crossed the parking lot. Inside the club, Abby started for the ladies’ restroom, so she could change into her miniskirt and official Swerve tank top. But she stopped. The bathroom was located at the other end of the club. She was already late for her shift, and any minute she could spare getting ready would be great. So instead of heading down to the restroom, she ducked into Trevor’s office and shut the door behind her. He wouldn’t mind. Hell, she could go in, change and be out prepping the bar before he even showed up. If he showed up on time.

He probably won’t be if he went home with that blonde tart last night. Maybe she had herself a couple more screaming orgasms, Abby thought with a bitter grimace as she pulled off her blazer. She’d noticed the woman hanging around for the rest of the night, never taking her eyes from Trevor. And when they had walked out, locking up the bar, the blonde had been waiting for him in the parking lot. Not wanting to stick around to see the obvious outcome, Abby gave Trevor a brief, friendly fist bump and then they’d parted ways.

“Okay, that wasn’t fair,” she chastised herself as she unbuttoned her blouse. “Both he and the incredible Screaming Orgasm Lady are adults. Maybe the only things screaming were her pores under all that makeup.” Heh.

“That wasn’t fair, either,” she muttered, trying to convince herself. “They can do whatever they want.” And she wasn’t about to blame a woman who might have Trevor all to herself for a night. Just because Abby had passed up the opportunity to spend what would have been an unbelievable night with him, it didn’t mean that any other sane woman in the world would do the same thing.

* * *

TREVOR PARKED HIS car next to Abby’s in the Swerve parking lot. It was March and the chill of winter still hung in the air. He wished spring would come soon, as he was looking forward to getting his motorcycle back out on the road. His car was nice enough, but driving it paled in comparison to taking a bike out on the open road. He unbuckled his seat belt and yawned, rubbing his fingers over his eyes. He was beat. He’d been at the club until three that morning, and he was even later getting home than usual, after waiting for the cab he’d called to pick up the blonde woman who’d been flirting with him all night. He remembered the weary sigh he’d given when he saw her standing outside the door, looking for him. She had been persistent, but he’d sent her on her way.

Once home, he’d had one hell of a time getting to sleep. After tossing and turning in his bed, he’d considered it useless, poured himself a double scotch and collapsed in front of his television, and it was daylight before he felt his eyes drift closed in surrender. Physically, he was in great shape, but a busy night at the bar now seemed to take more out of him than it used to. When he was in his twenties, he could work all night and still have the energy to party until daylight. But lately the aches in his feet, wrists and joints were more pronounced, as was the weariness of his mind, and he wondered how much longer he would be able to keep up with the pace.

But it wasn’t the hard work or even the blonde woman who had waited for him outside the club that kept his mind racing in the early hours of this morning. It was Abby Shaw. Every time he had closed his eyes she was there, her long legs, short blond hair, bright smile, the feisty glint in her eye and certainly her shapely ass when she bent over to retrieve the liquor bottle—it was as if he had memorized her every feature. Since that night in Vegas when he’d kissed her, he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

They hadn’t even spoken of the night, the party at Jamie’s hotel or even the city itself. It all reminded him that it was as telling a sign as any that she wasn’t interested in pursuing any sort of relationship with him. Which was fine with him since he sure wasn’t going to date one of his employees.

And then there was their friendship to consider. He didn’t want to risk losing her. Although she was gorgeous and sexy and a lot of fun to hang out with, he saw what happened when Abby got scared and ran away from her boyfriends. She pushed them aside, usually because a man tried to get close to her. He knew there was something in her past that made her feel that way, but she’d never told him what it was. With how Trevor had been feeling lately, the weariness that accompanied his desire to settle down and act like an adult, he knew that either way, it wasn’t in the cards for him and Abby to be any more than friends.

He scrubbed his stubbled jaw with his palm and realized that he’d forgotten to shave. Great. With one more yawn for good measure, Trevor reached into his pocket for his keys to the club and from the backseat pulled a case of top-shelf vodka. People went crazy for the stuff and didn’t mind paying the exorbitant price for it. To each their own. Those customers paid his bills, and the tips cushioned his savings and investment accounts nicely. He hefted the case into his arms, made sure he had a good handle on it and headed to the club.

Inside, he grimaced at the glare of the lights. He pushed his sunglasses farther up his nose and walked to the stockroom to unload the box of liquor. He pulled one bottle out to put behind the bar and then headed back. Before he made it back to the bar, Trevor stopped at the closed door of his office. Strange. He didn’t normally close it after checking out each night. He walked to the door, still holding the bottle, and pushed it open.

Surprised, Trevor dropped the bottle to the floor, and the frosted glass shattered into hundreds of liquor-soaked pieces. Abby stood in front of him, wearing nothing but her short black skirt and high heels. The smell of expensive vodka filled the air, as she clutched her black tank top in front of her stomach, and it took Trevor less than one second to focus on the wide expanse of smooth, alabaster skin of her high, full breasts and flat stomach. They stood in stunned silence for a couple of beats. Trevor was oblivious to everything but her, even the alcohol seeping into his sneakers.

It was a few moments before she broke free of her shock and came to her senses. “Oh, God, Trevor,” she screeched and raised her arms to cover her perfect breasts. Trevor frowned briefly, mourning the loss of the view of her dusty-pink nipples.