I spun around, desperate for an escape, but the sound of Josh’s voice stopped me.

“Ashlyn?” he asked breathlessly. “What are you doing here?”

Could this moment be any more embarrassing? I cursed myself under my breath and turned back around to face him. Josh still had the girl in his arms, but his entire focus was now on me.

“I brought dinner. I made lasagna,” I muttered and dropped my eyes. I felt my cheeks flush. I made lasagna. I needed to leave. “Sooooooooo, I guess I’ll leave you to it. Just remember to wrap it, you know, be safe.” My eyes actually dropped to his crotch as I spoke.

Please, God, tell me that I didn’t just tell him to wrap his dick and be safe? A billion cool points just vanished, and mortified was nowhere near what I felt. Since when had I become a stuttering mess when I saw Josh with a chick that I knew he’d end up balls deep in later in the night?

I didn’t bother waiting around. I rushed through the crowded living room, then escaped down the empty hall and into my apartment. The moment I got into the safety of my space, I leaned against the door and sighed loudly. Suddenly, the desire to eat had disappeared, and all I wanted to do was drink red wine and hope to God it would erase the memory of giving Josh Crawford sex education. Mr. Sex himself certainly didn’t need advice from the girl who couldn’t even keep a fucking boyfriend.

I placed the food on the counter and grabbed my phone, desperate for girl talk. As I scrolled through to Eden’s number, the screen lit up with a text message, and Josh’s name appeared.

Josh: Come back to my place.

Me: No thanks. I have Lasagna to eat and wine to inhale.

Josh: You come here or I come there.

Brilliant. Just brilliant.

Me: Josh, I’m not going back there.

Josh: Fine. I’ll be there in five.

I grabbed the bottle of red and headed to the kitchen to find my biggest wine glass. Maybe I could just drink straight from the bottle. After lifting it to my lips, I decided to keep some ladylike qualities, so I poured the red until it almost overflowed the biggest glass I could find. It was liquid courage at its best.

I was halfway through my first glass when the front door opened and a disheveled Josh stepped through. My eyes roamed over him as he stood just inside my apartment. The jeans he wore were clinging to his muscular thighs, and his white shirt hung enticingly against his well-defined body. Casual Josh was alluring, especially when he had crazy messy hair and light stubble gracing his strong jaw. This Josh was so different from the businessman Josh that appeared every day, but I knew each served a very different purpose to my hormones.

I was a hot-blooded woman. I had a stomach that would fill with butterflies when a handsome man offered a compliment, a spine that shivers cascaded down if a good-looking man gave me a wink, and a libido that certainly knew my friend was a treat to look at, so I understood why women couldn’t resist him. But my pride lay in the fact that I seemed to be the only one that could resist him. I, Ashlyn Hart, who handed him her virginity, had never gone back for seconds. Now that deserved a medal and a day on the calendar dedicated to me. Ashlyn Hart Day had a nice ring to it. All I knew was that when Josh Crawford put on the moves, panties disintegrated, as well as women’s good intentions. I had witnessed it more times than I could count.

“You better not smell like sex,” I teased with an accusing brow.

He strolled through my apartment until he was standing before me. “I didn’t have sex.”

“You were practically having sex on the balcony.”

A smirk filled his lips, and he leaned in a little too close.

Immediately, I was slayed by his taunting scent.

“Did I have my cock out? No. There was no sex happening.”

I choked on my wine before composing myself. “You are a charmer, Josh Crawford.”

He shot me a wink for good measure, then leaned around my static body and grabbed the bottle of wine from the counter. He poured a glass for himself, then topped mine up before pulling the cover off the still-warm lasagna.

“Are we eating inside or on the balcony?” he asked, as he pulled out two plates from the overhead cupboard and found some clean cutlery.

I couldn’t find my words. Suddenly I’d become mute. Had he seriously left a party at his apartment and the promise of a one-night stand with a girl who would put out for him to come here and eat lasagna on a Saturday night? I had to be dreaming.

“Ashlyn. Focus. Inside or outside?” he asked in amusement. “Did you just pinch yourself?”

I rubbed my arm where I had actually just pinched myself to make sure this was indeed real. “Uh, inside.”

He grabbed the lasagna, plates, and cutlery, then headed for the living room. I found the ability to walk, followed him to the couch, and sat beside him. I didn’t say a word as he walked back to the kitchen to grab the bottle of wine and our glasses.

When he returned and I finally found my voice, I asked, “Josh, what are you doing here? You left the promise of sex for my Lasagna? Are you feeling okay?” I put my hand on his forehead.

“You are such a smartass. I’ll have you know that sex isn’t the only thing I want.”

I couldn’t stop myself from bursting with laughter. “You are hilarious. Do you not realize I have seen you in that exact position numerous times before? If I hadn’t turned up, you would be having sex with her.”

“Can we please not talk about who I may or may not have had sex with? I have lasagna to eat. I’ll give you a tip: make your lasagna for any guys you want to fuck, and they’ll be putty in your hands.”

“I’m becoming a lesbian, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right. How could I forget?” He rolled his eyes at me, completely disregarding my decision.

AFTER RUSHING INTO THE foyer, coffee in one hand and my phone held to my ear by the other, I greeted the receptionist with a smile and headed for the elevator. Monday morning blues had arrived, and I was heading for a horrendous week of meetings, hiring new staff, and working on the acquisition of a west-coast-based magazine.

I marched into my office, fired up my laptop, and took a seat behind my desk. I had been employed by Anderson Publications since I finished my business degree, and I was on the management team of Bangs and Beats, alongside Ky. My role was managing the editorial team, where I oversaw the layout and features before they went to the final viewing with the editor. My job was to make it look, feel, and seem as enticing as possible. I loved my job, and it seemed to provide me with what I needed: access to women, money, and the opportunity to travel.

Ky knocked on the glass wall beside my opened door and strolled in. I tapped in my password as he folded his body into the visitor’s seat across from me and rested his crossed ankles on the edge of my desk. The ding of emails filling my inbox sounded, and I lifted my eyes to give my attention to my brother.

“How was your weekend?” he asked, knowing full well how it started. “Have you and your dick recovered from Friday night?”

“You are such an asswipe.” I laughed. “Me and my dick are just fine. As for the rest of the weekend, it was good.”

“Did you see Ash at all?”

“Yeah, I went to her place and had dinner on Saturday night.” I gazed down at my laptop as the ping of a new email came through.

Lachlan Johnson’s name flashed on my screen, and my fists clenched violently. Who the fuck did he think he was? My eyes narrowed in on the subject line: Ashlyn Hart.