What’s a Girl to Do?:

Contents

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Aimée Duffy

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

HarperImpulse an imprint of

HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

77–85 Fulham Palace Road

Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2013

Copyright © Aimée Duffy 2013

Cover Photographs © shutterstock.com

Aimée Duffy asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © August 2013 ISBN: 9780007540280

Version 2014-09-24

Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

To Chelle, Amalie, Cat/Jo, Amy, Mel and the Dashing ladies. I really appreciate having you all, especially when I'm whining.

Chapter One

Tonight’s a tequila night, screw the lime mixer.

Shey Lopez grinned at Georgia’s email to her and their other roommate, Eloisa. No doubt about it, the week had dragged and she was up for something stronger than their usual pitcher of frozen margaritas.

She hit reply to all and got typing.

I’m in.

Jude Graham chose that second to clear his throat at the door to her office. She fought back a scowl at her boss and hit CTRL & E without glancing at the screen. The high-maintenance bitch looked flustered, which was ironic since he’d barely lifted a finger all week. His whole me editor, you do what I tell you attitude got on her nerves. If Storm wasn’t the best fashion magazine in New York, she’d be out of there faster than Jude could buff his fingernails. And, going by the way that they shined, he was a pro.

‘What can I do for you, Jude?’ Surely he could tell the saccharine tone of her voice was false. Then again, being false was one of Jude’s many talents.

‘I need those proofs for the Gianni article by the end of the day.’

Shey’s smile slipped. He’d given her the paperwork less than an hour ago and it was already way past three. The guy was a nightmare, too busy wrapped up in another argument with his husband to care about his job. She couldn’t wait for the day she cranked up enough experience to leapfrog over his ass and be the editor, not the assistant.

‘There’s only two hours left and I have other work to do,’ she said, sounding calm, even though her heart rate increased with trepidation. Still, she was playing over all the insults she could think of in her mind.

He scowled, or tried to. The botox didn’t leave much room for changes in his expression. ‘There’s more than one smart-assed girl in this building who would kill for your position. If the article isn’t on my desk at five, you can kiss your job goodbye.’

With that and more flourish than a prom queen, he left. Shey was tempted to launch her stapler at the empty doorway, but resisted. Everything good in life came with a price, or so she told herself. Her dream job should have a downside, it was only the natural balance of things. That little bitch Jude was what she had to suffer to get to the top, and she would suffer him and do it with a smile.

Closing her eyes, she took a calming breath. And then another. Her yoga instructor would be proud.

With her head cleared, she got her focus back in the game. Jude would have his article on the desk by four forty-five. She could do this. And later, when her head was frazzled and her fingers ached, she’d go out with her girls and drink the well dry.

Opening a new email, she sent another message to Georgia and Eloisa.

The bitch is at it again. Make mine doubles.

After hitting send, she got to work.

***

With half an hour to spare, Shey was relieved her speedy fingers and dedication meant she’d get to see Jude’s jaw drop. Three read-throughs later and the article was as polished as she could make it, but she wasn’t kidding herself that it would be enough. Little bitch, or LB as most of the office staff called him, was pernickety and thorough. One mistake or missing word and he’d come down on her so hard that some would think she’d made an attempt on his husband’s life.

Tapping the pointed toes of her Prada stilettos, Shey waited for the article to print. When it was done she aligned the pages, stapled the top corner, and made a beeline for Jude’s office.

Storm was exactly what she had expected when she’d landed the internship over a year ago. All white plastic with brightly colored furniture and art. Bitches around every corner waiting to stab you in the back to get on their editor’s good sides. And the jackpot: free backstage passes to fashion shows, exclusive clubs, and parties. God, she loved it. She really did. But she suspected the cattiness was rubbing off on her. When she’d started the internship she’d been quiet, too scared to say boo to anyone. She learned quickly that if she didn’t stand up for herself and grow a backbone, she’d be crushed like a bug.

Rounding the corner she spied what her friends would call ‘a suit’ talking to the receptionist, Mandy. Shey slowed her steps, taking him in from side profile. That body was built, in a Brad Pitt kind of way, with much better arm definition. Dark-chestnut hair grew long enough to cling on to and he had skin as dark as her own, which meant he was either half-Latina like her or paid a few visits a week to the tanning booth.

Either way, hot as sin.

When he turned and she met his hazel gaze, her skin warmed like it was on fire. The white cotton shift dress she’d donned for work suddenly felt as thick as a quilt and she had trouble getting air into her lungs. Christ, the guy must’ve been throwing some kind of freaky pheromones her way. Either that or it had been way too long since she’d had a date.

His gaze roved over her body from her head to the scarlet Prada’s and he didn’t make any effort to hide his scrutiny. He was a ten, at least. And thank you God! There was no mistaking he liked what he saw, if his wink was anything to go by. Most guys who came for a meeting at Storm were gay. This hottie either swung both ways or he was all about the ladies. Shey didn’t really care which, as long as she was on the list of things that made him burn.

Pulling her shoulders back, she added a sashay to her hips as she approached him. There was plenty of time to get the paperwork to Jude and, if she could find out something about Mr. Tall, Dark, and Built, she didn’t mind being a little late. After all, who else would he find to put up with his bullshit? She’d been the only intern who got promoted to assistant editor last year. The others would crack within a week.

She did a little looking of her own as she approached, giving him points for the navy tailored suit, deducting a few for not wearing a tie. Ties were sexy. She could pull a guy over for a kiss with it, or slide it off then wrap it around his eyes while she led him to the bedroom. More points for rockin’ the open collar on the white silk shirt, especially since the skin underneath was smooth and bronzed.

Determined to play it cool, Shey headed to the reception instead of approaching the guy.

‘You hitting the town with us tonight?’ Shey asked. Mandy was one of the few in the office that Shey could actually stand. Her housemates liked Mandy too.

Mandy bit her cherry-glossed lip. ‘Club Zero?’ Shey nodded. ‘I can’t. Graham wants me to watch the game with him tonight. He says doing more stuff together will bring us closer.’

Shey tried not to screw up her face and failed. ‘Watching the game, seriously? Like the Yankies are going to make up for months of no dates or attention?’ She pitied poor Mandy and wished she had the balls to ditch that loser. She was gorgeous, all busty and blonde, and that guy treated her like an afterthought.

A husky laugh made her turn.

‘I suppose you agree with her idiot boyfriend?’ Shey asked the stranger.

His lips twisted up at the corners and a sultry look darkened his eyes. ‘Hell no. I can think of better ways to entertain a lady.’

Her heart rate went crazy.

Mandy gasped, but was saved by the phone ringing. Shey didn’t have the same time to compose herself. She was lost in his gaze and that fiery burn scorching through her body. For the first time since she could remember, Shey couldn’t find her tongue. Those damn eyes messed with her head and she couldn’t break free from their spell if she tried.

He stepped closer and the burn intensified. She was so hot she wanted to rip the dress off and stand in front of an open freezer to cool down. Up close she could see a dark five o’clock shadow on his sculpted jaw. His throat was thick, just like his shoulders. The slightly crooked nose suggested he’d had it broken at some point in his life, but it didn’t deter from his harsh beauty. Shey was awestruck, and so turned on she thought she might come just from looking at him.

‘What’s your name, gorgeous?’ he asked.

The disinterest on his face made it seem like he was flirting out of habit rather than because he wanted to. Even still, there seemed to be a magnetic force between them, crackling in the air and sparking. Those eyes of his had darkened, contradicting his Mr. Cool Man front. No way was Shey going to make this easy for him.

‘Seriously? That the best line you’ve got?’ She forced a laugh, but it came out husky, damn it. ‘Next you’ll call my dad a thief for stealing the stars and putting them in my eyes.’

His brows shot up, but he composed himself in a heartbeat. With a smile, he leaned forward and brushed a kiss over her cheekbone. The spicy smell of him invaded her senses and her skin sizzled with the contact. Her body went hyperactive. Hands trembling, knees weakening and oh yeah, soaked right through her lacy thong. She had to get away from him before she did something crazy, like beg for those soft lips to touch her again.

‘Sweetheart, with you I don’t need any lines.’

Anger boiled through her veins, loosening his hold on her body. She didn’t even know his name and he had her salivating, for Christ’s sake. He was a cocky bastard, so sure he had her right where he wanted her, and the worst thing? He was absolutely right. Next time those lips touched her skin she’d be putty in his long-fingered hands.

‘It’ll take more than arrogance to win me over.’ Shey left the asshole unspoken. ‘I have somewhere to be.’ Without waiting for Mandy to get off the phone or for Mr. Cool to reply, she left reception.

His voice trailed behind her. ‘I’ll see you soon, gorgeous.’

Yeah, big shot. In your dreams.

***

‘Here’s to Friday nights. Where would we be without them?’ Georgia held up her shot of tequila.

From their table on the upper level of Club Zero, they had a bird’s-eye view of the club below. Dark purple and chrome was the theme, and the whole place was surrounded by mirrored walls.

Shey clinked her shot against Georgia’s and Eloisa joined in.

She was the first to get the glass to her lips and swallow in one go. The burn in her throat was bliss after a day like today. Even though she got the article in early, Jude had acted like, well, a bitch and made her redo three paragraphs. Surprise, surprise. And she wasn’t even thinking about Mr. Cool.

It was almost nine and half the men in the club had already picked out the women they were going to dance with or take home. The rest were the ones other women had ditched for a reason. A quick glance around was all Shey and her roomies needed to find out why. Stragglers, Michelin Men, and the drooling desperados lurked in the shadows, waiting for the women to down a bit too much hard stuff.

There weren’t thick enough beer goggles in the world.

Shey turned away with a sigh. It didn’t matter who was left, she didn’t do one-night stands. She liked to have a connection with the men she got involved with. Going home with a guy or vice versa was dangerous in more ways than one.

‘We need to stop coming here after eight.’ The earlier they arrived, the better chance they had of grabbing a table downstairs the perfect distance between the dance floor and the bar. Not to mention finding a guy or two who actually wanted to talk, not drool.

‘You’d rather spend the night on EHarmony?’ Eloisa asked with distaste and flicked her auburn curls over her shoulder. ‘There are more psychos on the net. At least here you can see the ugly coming.’

‘Or the desperate,’ Georgia added.

‘I don’t think any of us will find what we’re looking for in a bar,’ Shey said.

‘Speak for yourself.’ Eloisa downed another shot. With watery eyes, she glanced at Shey. ‘You’re the only one uptight about dating.’

Her mouth dropped open. ‘I’m not uptight, just careful.’

Georgia rolled her eyes. ‘Come on, you’ve never even had a fling.’

‘That’s hardly a national disaster.’

Eloisa chimed in. ‘It could be. Maybe the world needs Shey Lopez to do one wild thing.’

Shey shook her head. ‘I’ve done wild things.’

‘Yeah right.’ Georgia picked up her glass. ‘Splurging on a pair of shoes you can’t afford is the craziest thing you’ve done.’

Being teased by her friends never usually bothered her, and it didn’t this time either. If she took the bait it was sure to get worse. But she’d come out tonight for more in the way of fun, and damn if she wasn’t going home until her feet throbbed and she’d had a good work out on the dance floor.

‘Let’s dance girls,’ she said.

They finished the last of the tequila and headed down to the main level. Club Zero was no back-street club or for the lower class. The cover price to get in was her weekly indulgence, and the drinks all had a few extra dollars added to the price. But the best bit? No trash. It was the high end of sophistication in Manhattan and they could dance without worrying about getting spills all over their new stilettos.

Finding an open area near the bar, they tucked their clutch bags under their arms and got busy. By the third song, Shey was feeling more relaxed, her body loosening and the stress of the day disappearing. It was weird that she found the atmosphere in the club calming, considering all the strobe lights and neon, but burning up a good sweat swinging her hips was her favorite form of exercise. Probably had something to do with the tequila too.

Eloisa came close and pressed her body against Shey’s. A typical move for her if there was a guy who caught her interest, so Shey went with it and grabbed her hips. Georgia was a few feet away, dancing with her eyes closed in that self-possessed way of hers, giving herself up to the beat of the music.

After a moment Shey realized Eloisa wasn’t giving anyone the eye. Instead she leaned close and shouted in Shey’s ear, ‘don’t look now, but there’s a gorgeous suit at the bar checking you out.’

Nodding to let Eloisa know she got the message, Shey changed the position of their bodies until their satin-clad rears ground together as they danced. Shey missed a grind and almost fell backward when she saw who was staring, but she got back with the program quickly. Holy hell, Mr. Cool was here—in a different suit—and he was staring at her from beneath hooded lids.

With one arm propped on the bar and a tumbler containing dark liquid in his other hand, he looked sexier than sin. Then his earlier words came back and even though the heat still sizzled between them, Shey forced herself to turn away. The guy had an ego to rival Hugh Hefner’s and could probably get a woman into his bed tonight with a click of his fingers. His bored tone, the disinterest in his expression, and his cocky remark about not needing a line meant he was not for her.

She liked a guy to make a little more effort than that before she decided whether or not she wanted to fall into bed with him.

Studiously ignoring him, she continued to shake what her mama gave her—though her mom would be horrified to see the size of Shey’s hips. Felicity Lopez was on the curvy side for a supermodel but weighed a good twenty pounds less than Shey. No way was Shey going to live on rabbit feed for the rest of her life. Food, like life, was there to enjoy.

Eloisa called a time-out and headed back to the table with Georgia since it was Shey’s round, and probably because they thought Shey was interested in Mr. Cool. She tried to act casual and crossed to the opposite end of the mahogany bar to avoid him. After placing the order for an army of shots, the bartender got to work.

‘If I said these were on me, would you think that’s another line?’ Mr. Cool was standing right next to her and she had to take a deep breath to orientate herself.

That was the wrong thing to do. He’d switched the spicy aftershave for something musky and that had an even stronger effect on her hormones. Eau de Pheromone, maybe? She hoped it was expensive so all the creeps in the city didn’t catch on.

Shey turned to him and squared her shoulders. ‘I’d say I’m perfectly capable of buying my own drinks.’ She fought the urge to thank him for the offer, especially when she saw the wry smile.

‘How about we start again? I’m Calvin.’ He extended his hand.

Placing her hand in his, she shivered at the electric contact. It woke up her insides like she’d swallowed a couple of hormone pills. His head bowed over her hand, but he never took his attention off her face. Her breath caught as his lips brushed her knuckles and she had to jerk her hand back.

The flash fire that burned over her skin was epic and worse, Shey wanted him to kiss her again. Crazy. Even though he seemed to be trying politeness on for size, he had this confidence that said he knew she’d end up naked on his bed, and though her body went wild with the idea, no thanks. Shey was the result of her mom’s stupidity. Felicity had fallen for a charmer, and all it had done was stall her mother’s career.

Quickest way to cut off his interest would be to lie through her teeth. ‘Sorry, I have—’

‘Shey, fibs are unattractive. I know you’re single.’ He stepped closer, too close, and her heart kicked off on a mamba.

‘How do you know my name?’

And why did the sound of it rolling off his tongue get her even hotter?

Calvin smiled, showing every one of those flawless white teeth, and she was dazzled. Christ. She needed to pull it together, fast.

‘Your friend Mandy and I spoke.’

Shey frowned. She was going to kill Mandy.

‘A woman like you shouldn’t be single. Unless you’re the kind of woman who likes variety.’

‘Another line?’ She tried to hold the scowl, and failed. The way he said variety had her thinking about all the different things he’d do to her body. She had a feeling he’d take her higher than any man ever had, and that was based on her own reaction to him, not to mention that arrogant confidence which pissed her off and got her hot all at the same time.

‘I told you earlier Shey, I don’t need them.’

Saved by the shots. The bartender placed down a tray and, even though she’d ordered three for each of them, it didn’t seem like enough. Hell, jumping into an ice bath didn’t seem like enough to calm her down. She paid the guy and told him to keep the change. Before she managed to scamper away with the tray, Calvin spoke.

‘I’ll see you soon, Shey.’

She frowned at him, thinking that wasn’t going to happen. ‘You know, there’s a club full of women here tonight who I’m sure would be more than happy to give you what you want.’

‘What is it you think I want?’

Those eyes, all dark and intense, scrambled her thoughts. ‘An easy lay.’ The second the words left her lips, her face heated.

Calvin raised a dark brow. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’

She sent a message to her feet to get them to move, but they ignored her. She was trapped again, her body wanting what she wouldn’t let it have and now she could see it in his expression. He was thriving on the challenge she’d presented him, instead of giving her a half-assed come-on like earlier.

But it didn’t matter. When they met he’d hit on her in under three seconds, without even knowing her name, and those kind of guys didn’t do fancy dates. They wanted women in their beds and if they had to work a little to make it happen, that was fine with them. She wasn’t going to join the notches on his bedpost.

‘You’re wasting your breath with me.’ This time when she turned to leave with the tray of much-needed tequila, her feet obeyed.

Calvin got the last word. Again. ‘I always get what I want.’

Chapter Two

Unease twisted Shey’s empty stomach as she followed Mandy up the stairs on Monday afternoon. Why Marco, the big-dog editor and chief, would want his receptionist and an assistant editor to check out the upper floor was beyond her. She went anyway, clutching her purse tightly to her side. The sooner they got this over with and she could scoot to the deli across the street, the better. She was starved.

Mandy opened the door to the twelfth floor, and Shey’s breath caught in her throat. Mr. Cool—Calvin—stood in the entrance lobby next to a table draped with a thick white cloth. A bottle of Merlot was open, two glasses poured and two candles lit, but she didn’t notice what was on the plates. She couldn’t take her eyes off of his.

‘That will be all, Mandy.’ His voice, gentle yet commanding, shivered through her.

Mandy scurried back to the stairwell just as Shey’s shock cleared. She reached out and blocked the doorway with her arm.

‘What the hell’s going on here?’ she asked them both, though it was pretty obvious. She’d been set up. The you will not talk about me to strangers again speech she’d given Mandy earlier had clearly gone in one ear and out the other.

‘Shey, I hoped you would join me for lunch.’ There was no demand in his tone now, only charm, and she didn’t trust it one bit.