Three Broken Promises (One Week Girlfriend #3)(3)
Author: Monica Murphy

They all want to get their drink on. Celebrating being back at school, or drowning their misery in alcohol because they’re . . . back at school.

I don’t care which it is. As long as they keep buying drinks and leaving hefty tips for the hardworking staff, I’m satisfied.

“Hey, you’re the owner, right?”

Glancing up, I see a pretty girl standing in front of me, a hopeful smile on her face. She probably wants a job. I just hired a new hostess late last week, so at the moment I’m not looking, but I always give out applications. You never know when you’re going to lose someone, and good help is hard to find. “I am,” I answer, returning her smile, my gaze dropping to take her all in. Check her out.

She’s attractive. Not makes-my-heart-feel-like-it’s-seizing-in-my-chest gorgeous, but not put-a-paper-over-her-face-while-I-bang-her, either. I like the way she looks at me.

So I look at her back.

“I thought so.” She takes a step closer, leaning her forearms against the hostess station counter, plumping up her br**sts, which threaten to spill out of her skimpy top. She’s stacked. I have a thing for big br**sts but I keep my gaze fixed on her face for as long as I can, tomorrow’s printed-out schedule clutched in my hand forgotten. It’s already near eleven and the kitchen’s just closed, which means I can get the hell out of here if I want to.

But I don’t. Jen’s scheduled till midnight, so I’ll wait for her and give her a ride home. Like I always do. Anything to spend as much time with her as possible.

“Are you looking for a job? We don’t have any positions available at the moment.” Finally, I give in and let my gaze drop, blatantly studying her cle**age. It’s been a while. Hell, I seriously can’t remember the last time I got laid. And with where I work, with the endless stream of women that come in on a daily basis, I’m not being an ass**le when I say I could get laid anytime I want.

Not being an arrogant prick, just stating fact.

She still hasn’t answered me. “Let me grab you an application.” Leaning down, I’m reaching for the stack of blank applications on the shelf when the girl laughs and shakes her head.

“I’m not interested in a job. I’m interested in you,” she says point-blank.

Blinking, I stand up straight, studying her. The smile curving her glossy peach-colored lips is coy, the look in her eyes hot. As in, she’s definitely interested in what she sees.

Women rarely leave me at a loss for words, but lately I haven’t been myself. Despite my hangups, despite my not wanting to disappoint the one woman who means the world to me, I like what I see standing in front of me, too.

I’ve f**ked plenty of women, and this one looks ripe for the picking. She smells good, looks good, and the gleam in her eye tempts. Invites.

I’m no saint. Some might even call me a man whore, though that’s more in my past. What can I say? I like women and they usually like me. I’m not stupid. This pretty face of mine has gotten me into trouble. Both the good and the bad kind.

Only one woman is off limits. I might be an ass**le, but I at least have a small amount of scruples left within me. Besides, there has to be something untouchable and holy in my world, right? She’s it. The sweet little girl I knew when we were kids. The pretty teenager who I tried my best not to look at for fear she’d know I was lusting after her.

The woman I deny myself from ever having. We’re friends, and that’s all it can be. I’m scared I’ll ruin our relationship if I take it further. I need her friendship more than I want her body.

Well. Just barely.

Thinking of her makes my heart and libido sink, and my interest in this woman in front of me withers up and blows away like a dead, dried-up leaf.

That’s all it takes. Think of Jen and I’m done for.

“Uh, I’m flattered, but . . .” I run a hand through my hair, wondering how I’m going to let her down easy. I’ve never had to do this before. When a woman’s interested, I usually let it happen. I let her in. Not all the way, but just enough so we both get what we want.

I let no one in all the way. Jen’s the only one who’s ever gotten close. I still keep her at arm’s length, though, for the most part. Except for those quiet, intimate moments in the dark, when the despair threatens to overwhelm me and she sneaks into my room to offer me comfort.

Those moments I keep to myself. We’ve never talked about them. They’re like our dirty little secret.

“So I guess you have a girlfriend?” The woman laughs, cocking her head. She has dark blond hair, with perfect curls that tumble past her shoulders. Her makeup is subtle, her outfit tempting. A few months ago, she would have been my type. I would have had her naked and been buried deep inside her within an hour of this meeting, if not sooner.

But anonymous sex doesn’t appeal to me anymore. And the woman I want, I can’t really have. Correction: I don’t let myself have her. So instead of having her naked and me buried deep inside her like I desperately want, I suffer. Like a true martyr.

Or try more like a true ass**le.

Clearing my throat, I decide to be honest. “I—”

“He does.” Jen appears beside me as if I conjured her up like a magical spell, made of smoke and mirrors and so much beauty it hurts to look at her. She curls a slender arm around mine, her fingers settling on my biceps, and my skin burns where she touches me. Nestling in close, that sexy lean body of hers is plastered to mine, making me sweat, making my skin tighten. She’s wearing a mysterious smile and a defiant glare in her dark brown eyes that would deter even the most aggressive female on the planet.

The look clearly says, Back the f**k off, he’s mine.

Hell, I wish.

“Sorry.” The girl doesn’t sound sorry at all as she pushes away from the counter and walks off, shaking her head. “Didn’t mean to step on any toes.”

“Keep walking. Nothing to see here,” Jen calls after her as the girl disappears back into the bar. Then she releases her hold on me immediately, stepping away, and I feel the loss keenly. “God. Don’t you ever get sick of that?”

“Sick of what? Women hitting on me?” I once lived for that shit every single night. Flirting, drinking, being surrounded by beautiful women—they all helped me forget what I’d done. How I disappointed an entire family. How I abandoned my best friend and he ended up dead. How I let this girl in front of me down most of all.

My fault. All of it.