Jake opens the door to his office a few hours later and greets me with a smile that definitely doesn’t make my heart speed up. The way he looks me up and down as if he wants to memorize every inch of my body doesn’t make my breath hitch, either. And when he reaches out his hand and slides it around my waist to guide me into the room, his touch absolutely doesn’t turn my pussy into a total gusher. Nope. Not at all.

And I’m a fucking liar.

Holy shit, how could I forget just how strong this man’s raw sex appeal is in the few days since I’ve seen him? I’d chalked it up to the intensity of the moment. The fact that we met only moments after I watched another woman face fuck him. Of course the testosterone was pouring off him in waves then.

So why do I feel just as turned on now as he walks me across his office toward a high-end coffee machine that looks so complicated I’m not even sure a barista would know what to do with it?

“Coffee?” he murmurs, his smile slipping into more of a knowing smirk, and I wonder if he knows what kind of effect he’s having on me.

“Sure.” I watch as he expertly punches in a sequence of buttons, then the most delicious aroma fills the room within seconds. “Wow, you really know how to work that thing.” I mentally roll my eyes at the dumb comment.

Jake chuckles, and the low sound sends shivers straight from my stomach to my clit, which is practically quivering with need now.

What in the actual fuck is he doing to me? Making me forget how to speak and act like I’ve never been around a sexy man before?

The sexy smirk that has me remembering all too clearly just what those lips are known for grows larger. “You could say I’m an expert at knowing what buttons to push.”

Apparently. He’s pushing all the right ones with me. If I don’t get my body under control—like right the fuck now—he’s going to have me so wet that my juices will run right down my legs. Not even joking.

Holy fuck. No wonder he calls himself the Cunning Linguist. I wouldn’t be surprised if this guy could make a girl come with nothing but his words.

“That is the general consensus,” I toss back as he hands me the steaming mug of coffee. Thank God I have something to do with my hands now. At the rate things are going, I’m likely to reach down and pull his cock out.

“You say this as if there’s a question.”

Laughing, I shake my head, hoping to clear out some of the lust-induced haze that’s making me want to behave like a fucking nympho. “All I’m saying is that I adhere to the principle of innocent until proven guilty.”

Jake’s eyelids drop to half-mast in what has to be the cockiest look I’ve seen on him yet. “I plead guilty, baby. Every single time. It’s way more fun that way.”

Someone clears their throat from across the office, and that’s when I realize for the first time that Toby’s already here.

“Have you started already?” I ask, looking between the two men.

“Waiting for you,” Jake says, his hand resuming the position on my back as he leads me toward one of the two chairs facing his desk. Toby’s taken up residence behind the desk, and Jake pulls the other chair closer to the desk, and closer to mine, ready to get to work.

I clear my throat and pull a tablet from my handbag. “Sorry to keep you waiting then, Mr. Kent.” Jake gives me a look. “I mean Jacob.”

He narrows his eyes. “My friends call me Jake, remember?”

“Sure thing, Jacob.”

Toby busts out laughing. “I like you, Layla.”

Grinning, I sit back in my chair. “Why don’t you two just pretend I’m not here, and I’ll try to get a completely objective idea of how this goes?”

“Objective?” Toby scoffs. “If you say so.”

“Okay,” Jake rubs his hands together, “let’s dive in.”

“Nice one,” I laugh.

Jake catches my eye and winks, and my blood starts to simmer as I imagine him diving in—right in between my legs.

Luckily, the two men get to work and I’m soon able to push most of my dirty thoughts aside.

Toby’s clicking through email after email on the computer while Jake tears open envelopes and scans the contents one by one. Yeah. Letters. Women are sending actual physical letters to Jake. After a while it’s almost as if they forget I’m here. Both men sum up each applicant—that’s how I’m thinking of the women who want to be on Jake’s show—as they work their way through them, categorizing them into yes, no, and maybes.

“So how are you determining who goes into which category?” I can’t stop myself from asking after thirty minutes of this. I’m not quite sure what I expected, but it’s not what I’m seeing. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s not to understand?” Jake says simply. “We’re finding who I can help the most.”

“Yeah, but…” I don’t know how to say what I’m thinking, and I fumble through it. “There hasn’t been a single picture. None of these women have talked about what they like or don’t like when it comes to sex. I guess I just don’t get what you’re looking for.”

If I had to guess based on what I’ve gathered, I’d say the women ending up in the yes pile are ones who seem smart, funny, interesting. Women I might like to hang out with. And then there are the ones who fit the bill of what Jake said—ones who really need help.

Because some of these applicants? Holy shit. I can’t even imagine being so miserable with my sex life. I love sex. I see it as a vital and vibrant part of my life—something to appreciate and revel in. But some of these women look at it completely differently for a variety of reasons. It’s something they’re embarrassed about, or insecure. Some even sound ashamed. Then there are those that desperately hope there’s more to sex than what they’ve known because their experiences can hardly be called great.

I thought most people in the world are happy with their sex lives, but it looks like I was dead wrong. Are there really that many people this uptight about sex? I mean, Lori is, obviously, but I thought she was the exception rather than the rule. If what I’m seeing and hearing while Toby and Jake go through these letters and emails is par for the course, well, maybe a show like this really can help.

Fucking hell, Layla. What am I supposed to do with that? I tuck it away as something to think about later and listen as Toby and Jake tell me more about their process.

“Have you ever watched the show, Layla?” Toby asks.

I shake my head. “Not really. Just the one last week. But I think everyone’s seen that one by now.”

He grins. “Fucking awesome, wasn’t it?”

“Or awesome fucking?”

Toby laughs loudly and holds his fist out toward me. “Right?” Smiling, I bump my fist against his. “But there was a reason for it. Isn’t that right, Jacob?”

Now I’m intrigued. He sits back and crosses his arms, looking at Jake to elaborate.

Jake leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his fingers together. “Absolutely. See, people were questioning me. Doubting the entire premise of my show. We had to put a stop to it.”

“Because your ego just had to prove them wrong?” I grin.

“That too,” he jokes. “But also because I want people to believe my message. If they don’t think it’s real, how am I supposed to help anyone?”

Damn.

I don’t know what to say to that.

Toby pipes up again. “One of these days this dude’s going to let me guest host the show. I keep telling him that what better way to prove that good sex is for everyone than for someone else to step up to the plate.”

Anyone. Everyone. They keep using these words, and it strikes me that the women they’ve chosen are so varied. I assumed that there was a certain type of woman that would come to Jake for “help,” but once again I was wrong. They really do seem to believe this message about helping people.

When they get back to work, I can’t stop looking at Jake. I’m seeing him in a totally different light. Yeah he’s cocky. But I wasn’t wrong when I thought he had a brain and a heart. And I’m absolutely convinced I’m not wrong about the other skills he possesses.

“So, what do you think?” Jake asks when they’ve finished going through the applications. His gaze is heated as he watches me. “Am I the arrogant bastard who gets off on people watching me go down on a new woman every night?”

Wow. That shouldn’t turn me on. But it so fucking does. In the time it takes him to say the words, I’m soaked all over again, just like when I first arrived. It’s insane what this man can do.

“The jury’s still out, Jacob, but you did claim to be guilty,” I tease.

He laughs. “Maybe you could use a one-on-one interview to come to your own conclusion.”

Hell yes I could.

“Dinner?” he asks with a suggestive smile.

Dessert sounds better. But dinner is a start. It’s all in the name of research, right? Right.

I name one of my favorite upscale restaurants and Jake smiles.

“Perfect.”

I stand, since we’re done for the day. “Meet me there at eight.”