Definitely Naughty. Jo Leigh

off the table.

      “Look, Aubrey…”

      Feeling much more in control of the situation, she relaxed against the backrest and waited. She liked him flustered. She’d put that right at the top of her list of Fun Things to Do with Muses.

      His jaw moved as if he was getting ready to speak, but it took a while for the words to form. “This is all very…weird,” he said finally. “You don’t really expect me to just jump on board with this, do you?”

      “Why not? The offer’s legit. We can even go back to your place if it’ll make you feel better.”

      His foot lifted, dislodging her toes. “This something you do often?”

      “What, find a trading card floating from the night sky? No.”

      “Asking men you’ve just met for lots of sex.”

      “Not often. Only when it feels right. Haven’t you ever had a one-night stand?”

      He cleared his throat, looked up and to the left. Ha, she knew what that meant, even if she wasn’t a detective. He was making up an answer right this second. “No. Okay, yes, but not usually—”

      “Before snacks?” she said, interrupting. “No problem. I’ll wait until we’ve eaten to ask again.”

      “That’s not—You do realize I’m with the police.”

      “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

      “You don’t—” He sighed. “I should have ordered something stronger.”

      Aubrey contained her grin. While this part of the evening was turning out better than she’d hoped, she couldn’t wait to see how entertaining he would be once they were alone. She’d bet that blush of his went all the way down his chest. She’d also wager that he was right this second coming up with justifications for saying yes. Would it be better to help him out now, or wait a bit?

      Their drinks were coming, so she’d wait. Give him time to get creative. It was clear he was hooked, even if he insisted on fighting with the lure.

      “Why’d you become a policeman?”

      “What?”

      “Being a police detective isn’t the same as being a CPA or a math teacher. The decision can’t be a simple one. There’s a lot of political and social significance to the job, pro and con. Maybe you come from a family of cops? Or maybe a police officer had an impact on your early life?”

      He closed his mouth. For a moment, he didn’t do anything but gawp at her. Then he drank from his beer, but there didn’t appear to be any left. When he put it down, it was very decisive. “Now you want small talk?”

      “Small talk? I didn’t ask about the weather. A career is a big deal. The biggest, except for love.”

      He sighed, and his very gorgeous jaw clenched. “Fine, now you want a deep discussion?”

      She nodded. “The food’s going to take a few minutes. And I’m interested.”

      Before he could respond, fresh drinks replaced the empties, and just as the waitress turned away, Liam jolted, stopping her with an urgent plea. “Wait.”

      Tracy, whose nametag had somehow moved closer to her boob since her last visit, looked at him with a practiced pout. “Can I help you?”

      “Whiskey. Double. Please.”

      “We’ve got Bushmills, Concannon, Knappogue Castle, Clontarf, Jameson and Paddy. Any of those turn you on?”

      He looked up at her, blinking again.

      Aubrey reduced her tip by five percent.

      “Bushmills. Thanks.”

      “Welcome, honey,” Tracy said with a wink. She turned back to face the bar without giving Aubrey so much as a glance.

      Ten percent.

      “Sorry,” he said, his attention back where it belonged. “Why don’t you tell me about this big window display that’s got you so upset?”

      “Well, all right, although you’ve already got the salient points. It’s a Christmas theme, naturally. And that makes it harder because, my God, everything’s already been done. The whole reason Yvonne hired me is because she saw what I did at this little boutique in Park Slope. That one cost virtually nothing. Just a few colored lights, and some borrowed hay.”

      “You borrowed hay?”

      She shrugged. “Not much. It worked, though. Because the pieces I chose for the display were all elegant as hell, a crystal chandelier, a silver tea set, clothes from the ’30s and ’40s. But good stuff, expensive stuff. I even had a legit Louis Quatorze commode that went to Christie’s afterward.”

      “And the hay?”

      “Oh, the backdrop was a barnyard. With real chickens and a goat. At least for a couple of days. Then it got too smelly.”

      “That got you hired?”

      “It worked. Completely. It was written up in the Post. I know, the Post, but still. My friends who own the boutique got a lot of business from that display.”

      “Huh.” He drank some beer, stared at the saltshaker.

      Holy crap, but his cheekbones were spectacular. Built to highlight his eyes, but also as a foundation for his amazing dimples and square jaw. His face could be an exhibit at MOMA and they’d sell all the tickets they could print.

      Liam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed again. Didn’t meet her gaze. Her cue to dial it back a few notches. He was a muse, not a toy.

      Tracy arrived with his double and the food, but to Aubrey’s delight, Liam didn’t give her the time of day.

      Aubrey smiled at Tracy before she left, but the gesture wasn’t returned.

      “I don’t know a lot about window displays,” he said. “But I’ll take your word for it.”

      “That’s okay. We’ll talk more about the design as we go along.”

      He exhaled heavily, his fork hanging loosely over the mac and cheese. Then he finally met her gaze with what she imagined was his getting-the-perp-to-confess-now look. “Did someone hire you to do this?”

      “No.”

      “Because if the idiots I work with paid you, just tell me. I’ll make sure you get your money. I swear. Then you can just give me the card back, and I’ll let the whole issue drop. Okay?”

      “No one hired me,” she said, her happy mood cut off at the knees. “I’ve been completely honest with you.”

      The music got louder, the room felt colder and time stretched as he looked through her. “Chickens and a goat?”

      Everything tilted back to normal, at least on her side of the table. His half smile helped.

      “Yes. It was all about contrasts and anachronisms.”

      He ate for a bit, and she downed a slider. It was very good.

      After he finished his appetizer, he shoved the plate to the center of the table and picked up his whiskey. “Lots and lots of sex?”

      The last of her worries fled. “Yes.”

      “How much is lots and lots?”

      “Until I get the design right. I don’t know how long that’s going to take, although it can’t be that long because I’m on a deadline.”

      He sipped his drink. Narrowed his eyes. “You said one-night stand.”

      “Oh, well, it could just be one night. If you’re as inspirational as I hope. But I didn’t want to pressure you or anything.”

      “I don’t have a creative