His For The Week

By Alice Gaines

"Alice Gaines will tantalize your romance taste buds with a book you can’t put down until the very last page.” – New York Times bestselling author Jasmine Haynes

Sex columnist Désirée “Rae” Knight is in a bind—and not the kind she usually likes. Her newest assignment, and possible big break, is an article for her magazine on the sex resort that just opened. The only problem is it’s couples only. Although she writes about having red-hot sex, she’s been single longer than she’d like to admit. Enter her coffee shop crush, who she’s been secretly ogling every morning. Trouble is, he doesn’t know she exists.

When Nate Winslow recognizes the shy, quiet woman at Sufficient Grounds as the author of the sex columns that fuel his fantasies, he’s surprised. And the last thing he expects is an invitation to join her at a sex resort. But his answer is hell yes!

Rae and Nate have enough chemistry in the bedroom to set the sheets ablaze. When Rae insists they limit their relationship to sex only, Nate agrees since he’s burned out on love. But the more they push each other’s boundaries, the more they realize one week won’t be enough.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Feb 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9781640634756

Alice Gaines

Alice Gaines likes her fiction hot, hot, hot. Alice has a PhD from the University of California at Berkeley. She shares a house in Oakland, California, with her pet corn snake and a stray cat that lives in her yard. When Alice isn't making up stories in her head, she spends her time cooking, gardening, and listening to her favorite band, Tower of Power.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2018 by Alice Gaines. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 105, PMB 159

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

Scorched is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Alycia Tornetta

Cover design by Letitia Hasser

Cover art from Deposit Photos

ISBN 978-1-64063-475-6

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition February 2018

For Club 61. Keep the funk alive!

Chapter One

The guy hadn’t shown up yet, and Rae’s palms were already sweating. She checked her phone again—10:13 a.m. He normally walked through the doors of Sufficient Grounds at 10:15, 10:20 at the latest. Not that she set her schedule to coincide with his. But by nine thirty, the crush of people and phones at her job, Urban Life magazine, got oppressive enough to drive her to the coffee shop to get work done. And Mr. Wonderful, a.k.a. Hook-up Man/Friend with Benefits—in her fantasies and her column—usually appeared right after she’d settled in with her laptop.

She’d been using her coffee crush as inspiration for her columns, since while Désirée Knight had a hot sex life, Rae did not. And now she’d gotten herself into quite the pickle…

Today, he could either prove her savior or the greatest embarrassment of her life. Or she’d chicken out completely and find herself back at square one—needing a date for a week at the new sex resort, Eros’ Retreat. To bolster her courage—and to pass the minutes without checking her phone every thirty seconds—she re-reread her latest Single and Sexy column.

There are lots of benefits to being unattached. The two of you can satisfy each other in bed, either according to a schedule or spontaneously, when the mood strikes. Then you can part ways until the urge hits again. You don’t have to like his taste in food or music. He doesn’t have to put up with your mother’s meddling.

And Rae’s mom loved to meddle, insisting Rae fall in love as Mom had so many times. No thanks.

It was 10:19, and he still wasn’t here. Maybe he wouldn’t show and the butterflies in her stomach would go on hiatus until tomorrow morning. Then her phone rang, and Rae nearly jumped out of her skin. She checked the display to see it was her friend Carla.

Thanks for finally calling me back, Rae said.

I had an early client, Carla said at the other end. What was so urgent?

I needed to get glammed up for a very important…um…meeting. Normally when Rae needed to appear as Désirée, her alter ego for her column, Carla was the one who helped transform her.

You never get the treatment before a meeting at the magazine.

It’s not a business meeting. It’s more like… How did you describe having to ask a perfect stranger—the man of your hottest fantasies—to spend a week with you at a sex resort? How had she gotten herself into this mess?

Because she had a chance to write a feature article for the magazine, not just a sex advice column. Her first opportunity to be taken seriously as a journalist. And she had to ask said perfect stranger to help. Today. If he ever showed up.

Rae? Rae? Carla said. Are you still there?

Unfortunately.

Are you going to tell me what this is all about?

You know the guy I’ve been lusting over in the coffee shop, right?

Nate, Carla said.

She’d heard the barista call out his name so many times she heard it in her dreams now. Yeah, Nate. I needed to put on my Désirée costume so I could finally meet him.

Hot damn, Carla said. About effing time.

Don’t start doing the happy dance, yet. I’m not sure I can face him unless I’m Désirée.

"You are Désirée Knight, the famous sex columnist, Carla said. Rae’s your nickname."

They’d leave aside the famous bit for now. Désirée Knight was glamorous, flirtatious, and even outrageous. Everything Rae Knight was not. Sure, they occupied the same body, although they looked very different in it, but Désirée could pull off things Rae would never attempt. Exactly like her mission for this morning.

So I had to do my own makeup this morning and try to face him, Rae said.

You’re beautiful, anyway, Rae. He must have noticed you already.

Not that I’ve been aware.

That can’t be true.

Maybe because she hid behind her laptop every morning, only taking tiny glimpses at him. If he’d ever caught her at it, he hadn’t given any indication. He could probably have any woman he wanted and wouldn’t notice someone with plain brown hair pulled back in a scrunchy, no makeup, and clothes one could most charitably call comfortable.

I’m pretty good at fading into the woodwork, Rae said.

Well, stop. It’s about time you got laid.

Carla!

That’s what you write about in your column, isn’t it? Sex with no strings. The kind that leaves you single.

Yeah, but I can’t approach him without your help.

Yes, you can, Carla said.

No, I can’t. Really. Honestly. I can’t. Why did I think this was a good idea? That I could pull this off?

At the other end, Carla sighed. Okay. Come into the studio tomorrow, and I’ll turn you into your evil twin.

Désirée isn’t evil. She’s…courageous, Rae said. But tomorrow’s too late. I have to do this this morning.

Assuming the guy showed up. It was 10:25. Had she gone through all this agony for nothing? She’d put on makeup as best she could, found some jeans that fit snugly, and added a sweater that V’d a bit down to the space between her breasts. Nothing like the magic Carla could work. I have to do this now before I lose my courage.

So why didn’t you call me earlier? Carla asked.

I did. You’re returning my call.

You’re not making any sense, Rae.

Of course she wasn’t. Her nerves were a jangled mess, and her stomach had flopped over three or four times since she’d entered the shop. Every time the door opened, she jumped. She hadn’t touched her latte.

Then the little bell over the door went off again, and he walked in. The hottest stuff of any woman’s fantasy, especially hers. Faded jeans and leather bomber jacket, showing off a physique that testified to plenty of workouts. Curling chocolate hair that brushed his collar. He went to the counter, spoke to the barista, and then turned to glance around. His hazel gaze fell on her, and he smiled.

Holy crap, she whispered into the phone as she covered her mouth with her free hand. He’s here.

Great. Go talk to him, Carla said.

I can’t. When bravado faced off against cowardice, it appeared cowardice won out. I gotta get out of here.

She couldn’t do that without taking her laptop and purse along, and she still had her cell phone in her hand. She made quite a clatter gathering it all up. The heat in her cheeks said she’d be red in the face as well. What an appealing look. Eventually, she got her crap together and headed toward the ladies’ room.

Discretion was the better part of valor, right? She’d live to fight another day.

…

Over the years, women had had a lot of reactions to Nate Winslow. None of them had ever run away as if the hounds of hell were after her. And Désirée Knight had done it when he’d finally thought he was making progress with her. She’d left her coffee on her table and almost dropped her computer in the process.

He paid for his espresso and headed to his regular spot—a few tables over from hers. He’d have to deal with this new development if he had any hope of getting to know her better.

It had taken him a while to recognize the quiet woman pounding keys on her computer as Désirée Knight, the author of his favorite column. He might have missed the resemblance completely if he hadn’t been reading of her latest exploits with Hook-Up Man in Urban Life one day as he sat here. Her writing made for dangerous reading in public because it invariably gave him an erection, and as he’d sat only feet away from the creator of the erotica, he’d had a more intimate connection, indeed. Only how to get to know her?

Now could be the perfect time to approach her. If something was bothering her, he could help fix things. He was pretty good at doing that, if he did say so himself. He could buy her a fresh coffee and listen to her. Really listen. Most guys had only half an ear open when women talked and then butted in with a solution before the woman had gotten to the end of her story.

He’d learned from his sister and his women friends to take women’s problems and opinions seriously. Maybe if he’d had that knowledge earlier, he could have saved his marriage. In the meantime, there was a damsel in distress in the ladies’ room, and he could do something to help her. Now two of the tables were empty except for cups of coffee as he rose and went to the back of the shop.

The restrooms here were tiny—only a couple of stalls. When he entered the hallway between men’s and ladies’, a middle-aged woman was just exiting.

Excuse me, ma’am, he said. I have to do some repairs in the ladies’ room. Is there anyone else in there?

Just one woman.

Is she okay?

The woman cocked her head. Do you know her?

No, no. Just asking. He never told lies, and he wasn’t any good at it. In fact, he’d usually give this kind of craziness a wide berth. But something about Désirée intrigued him. He hadn’t been so attracted to someone since his ex.

…seemed fine to me, the woman was saying.

Thanks.

She gave him one more quizzical look and left him. He moved closer to the door and heard muted voices, but nothing he could ever hope to understand, so he inched it open and listened hard.

So, Phil—yeah, my boss—asked me to write a feature spread about Eros’ Retreat, the new sex resort that just opened, Désirée said. Luckily, she was talking into her phone close enough for him to hear. It’s a great professional opportunity.

That had scared her into the ladies’ room?

But it’s for couples, so Phil suggested I take Hook-Up Man along, she went on. Oh, yeah, that guy. The one who had the scorching, no-strings-attached sex with her in her column. How many times had he imagined himself playing that role? So I need to find a guy, and coffee shop hottie Nate would be perfect.

Nate? Was she talking about him? Well, now. Didn’t that just warm the cock…ahem…something of his something. She wanted him to play Hook-Up Man.

This is the best chance for advancement I’ve had, she was saying. I can prove I’m a real journalist, not just a lightweight who writes about her bedroom adventures with a boyfriend who doesn’t have a name.

He had a name now. Nate. Oh, man. Talk about best chances.

I can’t pass this up just because I’m afraid to talk to the man, she said.

If he’d ever heard of a problem that was easily solved, he was hearing about it now. He only had to find a way to volunteer for the job without telling her he’d eavesdropped on her conversation.

She groaned. I guess I can hire an actor to play the part.

Oh, no, you don’t. Not if Nate had anything to say about it. This was his chance to finally make his move. He had to do something to introduce himself to her and volunteer for the job. And he most likely had to do it before she left the coffee shop and hired an actor.

He could buy her another cup of coffee because hers had gone cold. If he made himself agreeable enough, maybe she’d relax and invite him. Or maybe he’d have to coax her to tell him what she needed. Only how did you bring up the subject of going to a sex resort? Hell, he might have to confess to following her to the ladies’ room to overhear her conversation. He’d save that as a last resort.

You’re right, she said on the other side of the door. "I have this great career opportunity and I can spend a week at an erotic resort with the man I’ve been lusting after. I have to go for it."

Well, well. She’d been lusting after him all the while her columns gave him erections. He grinned so hard his face hurt. Could this get any better?

Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow for the full treatment, she said. Whatever that was. I’m going to do this.

He should have realized she was ending her call. He should have gone back to his table. Instead, he waited stupidly with his hand still on the door, so when she pulled it open, he nearly fell into the ladies’ room.

Hey, she shouted and took a few steps backward. Oh, it’s you.

He couldn’t deny being himself. Yeah, I guess so.

This is the ladies’ room.

I…I…I… Great. Stammering. I got a bit mixed up.

She giggled. I’d say.

Excuse me, but aren’t you Désirée Knight, the columnist?

That won him a big and not entirely genuine smile. Why, yes. I am.

Can we talk? He gestured toward the hallway.

Let’s. She walked by him, head held high, hips in a gentle sway. The seductress, not the shy woman he’d been hoping to approach for weeks. Interesting.

Once safely out of the ladies’ room, she turned to him and rested a fingertip against his chest. And you would be…

Nate Winslow. You might say I’m a fan.

Her smile got even wider. Glad to meet you, fan.

Can I ask you something?

Of course. I’m very open…about everything.

Great. If he thought up the right questions, he might work her around to inviting him to Eros’ Retreat with her. Hook-Up Man…is he real?

Let’s just say he’s based on a series of lovers I’ve had.

Anyone in particular right now? Like, say, me?

Actually, no.