Page 32 of Sexy

“What deal?” I ask, spinning around. “I let you keep your job and you don’t tell on me? No. I’m not gonna play that game. I’d rather tell my father that I fucked up and get it out in the open.”

“Wait. What the hell are you talking about? You think I’m gonna tell your father?” He laughs.

“Aren’t you? Aren’t you gonna threaten to ruin my life if I don’t let you keep your job?”

He frowns and lets out a long breath of air. “You have a really low opinion of me, don’t you?”

I stop a sarcastic remark once again. Because he’s got a look on his face. A look that appears oddly similar to the same disappointment my father might have.

So I reconsider him.

He’s smart, I know that much based on the proposal this morning. And he’s got ambition. That’s for sure. He’s only worked here nine months and he’s a star. He has a Wikipedia entry, I remind myself. I don’t have that, and I’m the daughter of billionaire Randall Preston. And he’s honest. I have to admit that too. He hasn’t lied about anything. I mean, I don’t care for his brand of truth, like, at all. But he still gives it to me.

“I don’t, actually. I think there’s a lot more to you than just taking your clothes off.”

He smiles. It’s the same smile from this morning when we were up on the roof. His eyes light up a little and his grin gets wide. “Then let me help you.”

“Help me how? By not telling—”

“I’m not gonna tell a man I fucked his daughter, Tiffy. Just what the actual fuck?”

I stare at him. And blink a few times, trying to grasp what he’s saying. “Then what?”

“You want Cole, right?”

I just shrug. “I like him a little. I think we’d make a good couple.”

“Just admit it,” Fletcher says, bringing his hand up to my cheek and stroking it softly. My insides do a little flip as I recall all the ways he touched me this morning. “You think he’s hot. You were flirting with him using my trade secrets—”

“Trade secrets?” I laugh out loud. “What?”

“—and they were working. Probably be working right now if those psycho bitches hadn’t come up and ruined it.”

“Actually, Cole’s in San Francisco—”

“I was being figurative, Tiffy. My point is, you know they were good tips. Look, you got dressed up, took that business suit off and did all the things I told you to. I’m good at this. So look, I’ll patch things up with Lisa and the other girls, you agree that I should keep my job, and as a way to show my appreciation, I’ll help you reel Cole in. What do you say?”

I give him the stink eye, sure that I’m being set up. “What’s the catch?”

“What catch? I just told you. I keep working, I apologize for hurting those girls—even if it wasn’t my fault—and help you get the guy.”

“How will you make things right with those girls? They are pissed. They want you fired, Fletcher. I can’t just ignore that.”

“I’ll find them guys too. New guys,” he adds quickly. “Not me. Nice guys.”

“What, you’re some kind of matchmaker? Where the hell are you gonna get guys to date them?”

He walks across the room and opens a drawer filled with files. “I am a matchmaker. I have a secret side business. Because sexy doesn’t sell, Tiffy. It’s for sale.”

I laugh out loud again. “Is that your tagline?”

“It’s good, right?” He smiles at me, one hundred percent serious. “I’m a hookup genius, Tiffy. I will find a guy for each girl and I’ll hook Cole for you too. I’m good at this, I swear.”

“What is all that?” I ask, pointing to the files.

“Satisfied customers. Clients. It’s a side job I started a few years ago and I’ve got seventeen real hookups. My first two are already engaged. And another five are heading in the same direction. The other ten are, well, works in progress. But all of them are still going. And before you blow up at me for having two sleazy jobs, ask yourself why women might need me. For real.” He stares hard at me like he’s waiting for an answer.

“Because… you know what men want, I guess. And you know what women want, obviously. You’re pretty good in that department.”