As we walk into his loft she and I both glance around, impressed. He’s strung twinkly lights everywhere, and the music is old school R&B. Simone immediately moves her hips to the beat.

Now that I’m here a memory hits me of when he asked, “Did your rock let you come out to play?”

I wish I had a protective stone like that looking out for me. I’d crawl under it and hide this one out.

His home is an open floor plan save for the divider-wall installed in the far right corner, to add some privacy for his bed. My eyes linger there a moment, wondering what color sheets he has. I hope they’re navy blue.

There is something wrong with me. I need a shrink.

Justin’s at the kitchen counter in his usual uniform of a well-fitting suit, though the jacket is thrown over a chair and his tie is loose and sexy. He’s standing in front of two bottles of tequila that are shaped like…penises.

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

I laugh under my breath and shake my head as we walk over. One is silver and the other pink with a purple gem. They’re extremely suggestive, and by the way Simone’s mouth turns up, she approves.

She touches Jason’s face as she passes him and purrs, “Perfect choice, and they look very expensive.”

“The lady demanded it.”

I want to vomit, but I settle for an eye-roll. Behind her back he grins briefly at me, then gives a wink that throws me.

Why did that just feel like we’re in on a private joke together? I’m not okay with making fun of my best friend behind her back, and certainly not with her ex-ish.

It’s always she and I who laugh at the guys.

I like it that way.

So why did my heart skip a little?

Gritting my teeth I head for Justin, too, only now I’m walking faster. I can feel Jason’s body heat behind me and he’s not even that close.

I glance over my shoulder with lowered eyelashes, not wanting to look obvious.

He’s locked on me so I quickly turn face-front.

Don’t fall for his game.

Don’t be the pawn.

Keep your eyes on anything but him.

Justin rakes an appreciative gaze down Simone’s dress. “You look gorgeous. No…you look delicious.”

She eyes him. “Okay, tell me what you want.”

“You couldn’t handle what I want.”

Her head cocks. “I meant what are you trying to get from me, with the compliment.”

“I know what you meant,” Justin smirks, unwrapping the plastic protective seal on the pink bottle. “Calm down. I’m just saying hello.” He glances to me, nodding briefly. “Sarah.”

I snort.

His blonde eyebrows jump.

Couldn’t help myself - the contrast of his reaction from her to me was comically different.

“Gee, thanks Justin.”

“What? I said hello.”

“Okay fine,” I chuckle.

Jason crosses to reach inside a cupboard, the white cotton shirt pulling at his shoulder blades, his bicep rippling. I glance to the counter because my lower abdomen just clenched.

He turns and sets small, elegant glasses down, explaining, “Asombroso Silver and Reposado. The Reposado is better so we’ll begin with that.”

Justin adds with a sly smile, “While our taste buds can tell the difference.”

Simone leans against the counter, fingertips tracing the bottle he’s about to pour from. “I’m hungry,” she almost moans.

Boy, is she laying it on thick.

Jason’s body brushes mine as he comes to grab tortilla chips for her out of a high cupboard. The side of my arm and hip lights up like he just ran a sparkler up them. I exit heading for the stereo to hide.

No one is talking. Just that sexy music filling the air. I’m crawling out of my skin. Fighting to keep my voice even, I call over my shoulder, “I love that you have vinyl albums.”

“I’ve got over a thousand,” Jason says, ripping the bag of chips open and pouring them all into a large, royal blue ceramic bowl. A stray falls onto the counter and he pops it in his mouth.

“I had over fifty,” I smile, lifting up a weathered copy of Duran Duran’s Rio. “This was my first. I found it at an old record store. But then Simone made me…” I trail off as I catch her warning look.

Glancing to the shelf I slide the record back in place.

Jason doesn’t want to drop it. “Simone made you what?” he asks, producing a jug of salsa from his fridge.

The picture of total relaxation, she answers for me, cutting in with, “—Donate the albums to charity.” Off his look, she adds with complete seriousness, “A homeless shelter needed music. It was so — what’s the word? — dreary there. You know how they are.”

Justin makes a small noise, hiding a snort of his own. He doesn’t believe her, and despite her cool delivery Jason also appears unconvinced. But he nods, unwilling to delve deeper into the bullshit she just offered him up to eat.

“Well, that was very nice of you, Simone,” he says with a forced smile.

She leans toward him, “I was happy we could help.”

Jason licks his lips like he’s biting back a retort while loudly unwrapping plastic from the fresh salsa’s lid.

His brother waves a glass in the air, beckoning me on a smirk, “Come back to us, Sarah. You’re too far away.”

I walk to it, locking eyes with the devilish half of the twins.

“Thanks,” I mutter, cocking my head as he holds my look.

What’s up with his conspiratorial vibe?

Is it just in my head?

He hands two glasses off to Jason and Simone, who by anyone’s standards are so good-looking together they could be painted on the side of a wall in Florence, Italy. I am very delusional to have feelings for that man, on many counts.

Justin holds up his glass and announces, “To Just For Me hitting Number One.”

We all smack glasses together and I wince as some of my tequila splashes onto my hand. Licking it, I look up with a face that says I hate being so clumsy. But Jason’s locked on my tongue licking the liquid off my dampened wrist. A jolt of arousal slams into me. I saw desire in his eyes.

“To Number One,” I mutter, and we all drink.

“Let’s do another!” Simone purrs, glancing between the twins. Jason pulls his focus from where it was locked on my shocked gaze and smiles at Simone.

“Count me in,” he rasps.

Oh shit. What is going on?

Something is happening tonight and only two people know what it is. The Cocker Brothers.

My muscles tense as I hold my glass out. “Pour.”

Simone whoops and grins, “Uh oh, Sarah might get on a table again!”

I shoot her a look. “Never again.”

“Maybe!” she smiles, holding out her glass for more liquor.

“This tastes very good. Nice choice,” I say loudly, changing the subject.

After the second shot Justin begins passionately detailing the reasons why there are so many potholes in Atlanta. At five-two I’m the tiniest of anyone here, so when he absently goes to pour me a third, I wave my hand and argue, “Not yet.”

He pauses to consider my refusal, grabs my glass from my hand and ignores me while he pours again and continues, “But here’s the problem, the cost. It will cost taxpayers too much money and so what do they do? They keep voting against any of the bills we offer! But then they go back to griping. Earlier this year –”

Simone, bored as hell, interrupts him, “Can we change the music?”

“Justin, that’s too much!” I’m pointing to the glass he’s handing me. It’s full.

He got too distracted. Justin is aiming for the Senate. I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t get there, with how much he seems to love every aspect of it. I’ve never seen someone so fired up over holes in the ground.

As Jason goes to change the song, Justin coldly tells Simone, “You interrupted me while I was talking.”

“Well, the beat behind your riveting tale was distracting me.”

His eyes flicker and he decides to let it go.

From behind my tequila glass I’m secretly spying on Jason. The muscles rippling on his back as he pulls vinyl records out from multiple shelves, repeatedly bending at the knees then straightening again, are killing me. The way those jeans pull over his thigh muscles makes me feel toasty.

“You’re giving up on Pandora?” I call over.

“Yep,” he smiles over his broad shoulder. “I’m taking back control.”

Hearing the word ‘control’ from his lips when I’ve had this much tequila has the unfortunate consequence of making me extremely moist. Shifting my weight, I bite my lip while Justin’s deep voice blurs.

The more time here stretches, the more I want to stretch my legs. Wide open. And there’s no one to do it with.

Fuck it.

Down the hatch.