Holy fuck.

Mark Banks, mild-mannered banker, just twisted my tongue with his hotness sliding scale of mental math. Even if he backpedaled his way out of that jam. Even if he did it with a whole lot of smoke and mirrors.

He did it.

And that’s just hot, hot, hot.

The highest level on the Asher St. James scale.

But he’s still the guy who doesn’t like my bud.

And he still dresses like my dad.

So I’m not about to bend, even if he won’t admit he wants to run his fingers through my so-not-floofy hair.

At least, I thought he did.

But now, I’m not so positive after all.

Dammit.

So that fishing expedition gave me nothing.

And yet, I toss out the bait one more time, swiping up on the thread. “But there is one thing that I keep tripping on.” I clear my throat, adopt his sexy, rumbly voice. “Asher, with his stupid hair and stupid lips and ridiculous body. Who even looks that good in real life, Hannah? No one. Just no one.”

I lift my gaze from the screen. Mark simply stares at me with those dark blue inscrutable eyes. “Yes, Asher?”

If there’s something wrong with my mouth⏤and no one has ever complained about it before⏤I have to know. “How are my lips stupid?”

TEN

Double Screwed

Mark

Because they make me think about things I don’t have room for in my life. Like this inconvenient attraction to my sister’s fiancé’s best friend, who relishes goading me.

But I can goad back. I didn’t get my promotion to VP by having zero game.

I know how to negotiate, and I’ve got a plan to shut this conversation down once and for all, then stuff this lust in a suitcase and tuck it away in an attic.

And never unzip it again.

“Let’s make a deal, St. James,” I offer.

“Okay,” he says, tentatively.

“How about we forget I ever said that, and in exchange, I’ll help you make sure you didn’t ruin Hannah’s night?”

He jerks his gaze away from me, gesturing to the guests milling about behind us. “I’m celebrating their engagement with a great party. On twenty-four hours’ notice, no less. How would I have ruined her night? She loves sushi. Also, I might add, when I learned she was pregnant, I threw a party. You threw a fit.”

Time to put him in his place and help Hannah.

I cast my gaze toward the server passing by, carrying a tray full of yellowtail rolls on the gleaming silver plate. “But sushi,” I whisper. “Especially species of fish high in mercury . . . is on the verboten list for pregnant women.”

“Wait.” Asher’s jaw comes unhinged, and for the first time ever, the cocky cavalier playboy is off his game. “Did I . . . really just throw an engagement party where the bride can’t eat any of the food?”

“Seems you did,” I say. “And I figured you knew and would have ordered some cooked fish or edamame. Or I would have said something sooner.”