The Infatuation (Josh and Kat #1 , The Club #5) (18 page)

“Did it work?” Reed looks at me. “Did you kiss
him?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“
No
? Uh oh. Are you losing your touch,
Faraday? I thought it was a foolproof plan.”

“Hell no, I’m not losing my touch. I’m wise and
powerful; you know that. This woman’s not normal. She’s made of
fucking steel or something—the most stubborn woman alive.”

“Oh, she’s
stubborn
, huh?” Reed says. “So
she’s the female version of you?”

Josh laughs. “Hey, maybe that explains why I find
her so goddamned attractive.” He squeezes my hand.

Reed laughs. “So, hey, man, there’s someone I want
you to meet.” He looks over his shoulder, zeroes in on some guy
across the room, and motions to him. “I just signed this amazing
guy to the label—a rapper-singer-songwriter-multi-instrumentalist.
Oh my God, he’s so fucking incredible, man, I’m crapping myself
that we got him. A year from now, mark my words, he’s gonna be the
biggest thing in music
.
”

A blonde guy with tattoos walks up with a beautiful,
dark-haired girl on his arm.

“Guys, this is Will Riley—’2Real’—one of the most
talented songwriters and performers you’re ever gonna meet, no
exaggeration—and his girlfriend, Carmen.”

“Aw, thanks, Reed,” Will says. “Hey, guys.”

Carmen smiles sweetly and waves at us in
greeting—and she instantly reminds me of Sarah.

“This is my buddy, Josh Faraday, and his apparently
stubborn
friend, Kat.”

“Hey, Josh,” Will says. “Hey, Stubborn Kat. That
sounds like a character from a comic strip—like some sort of bad
Garfield
rip-off.”

Josh laughs. “Oh no! Stubborn Kat won’t get off the
couch and it’s already noon.”

“Damn it, Stubborn Kat! She won’t chase the ball of
yarn,” I add. “No matter how many times you throw it for her.”

“Chase a mouse?” Reed says. “Hell no. Stubborn Kat
just painted her claws.”

“Damn that, Stubborn Kat,” Josh adds.

“Stubborn Kat won’t do
anything
you want her
to do—as
usual
. Aw, gosh, Stubborn Kat!” Will says.

We all laugh hysterically.

“So, hey, guys,” Reed says, “I’m throwing a little
party in the penthouse suite right now. The guys in Red Card Riot
just got into town for their show at the Garden Arena tomorrow
night, and they’re ready to blow off some steam tonight. Plus,
we’re celebrating Will coming on board. You two wanna join the
party?”

Josh looks at me for confirmation and I nod
furiously.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“Hey, isn’t Henn in town with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, call that little fucker and tell him to join
us.”

“I doubt he’ll come. He’s working on an important
job tonight.”

“Well, shit, man.” Reed looks at his watch. “It’s
almost two. Call him and see if he’s done for the night. It’s not a
raging party ’til Peter Hennessey breaks out his dance moves.”

Both guys laugh hysterically.

“Oh man,” Josh says, shaking his head. “One of the
simple pleasures in life. I’ll call that little fucker right
now.”

Kat

When Josh and I walk through the door of Reed’s
penthouse suite, along with Reed, Will, and Carmen, we join a
raging party already in progress in the most magnificent hotel
suite I could ever imagine. The interior is fit for a sheik—twice
the size of Jonas and Sarah’s suite—plus, French doors at the far
side of the massive main room reveal a private terrace and swimming
pool outside.

I glance around, my heart racing. Insanely
attractive people are milling around, lounging, laughing, swigging
drinks, smoking pot, making out—and I’d say half of them are at
least vaguely recognizable to me from my near-constant consumption
of celebrity gossip
.

Reed motions to two young guys on the couch smoking
pot—a strawberry blondie with piercings and tattoos and a
dark-haired hottie with striking, cobalt blue eyes—and they stride
over to Reed and bro-hug him.

“Hey, man,” the dark-haired hottie says to Reed,
hugging him.

“How was Dallas?” Reed asks.

“Fucking awesome,” dark-haired-hottie says. “Great
crowd. It still gives me chills every time an entire arena sings
along to a song I wrote.” He grins adorably.

Reed pats his cheek. “Get used to it, Baby Dino.
Where are the other guys?”

“Around here somewhere. Probably passed out. It’s
been a long-ass day.”

Reed addresses our small group. “Everyone, this is
Dean Masterson and C-Bomb from Red Card Riot. RCR is playing
tomorrow night at the MGM Grand—lemme know if any of you want
tickets to the show.”

Will and Carmen instantly leap at the offer,
thanking Reed profusely, while I jump up and down, tugging on
Josh’s arm.

Josh laughs at my exuberance. “Looks like Kat’s in
for sure. But I’m not sure what the fuck we’ve got going on
tomorrow night—I’m in town for this thing with my brother.” Josh
looks at Will and Carmen. “If it turns out I can’t go, can Kat go
with you guys?”

Oh. It didn’t occur to me we might be tied up
tomorrow night with our mission to take down The Club, whatever the
heck that means. “Oh, no, Josh, that’s okay,” I mumble. “I wouldn’t
go without you.”

“Of course, you would. You can’t miss seeing RCR—and
from the VIP section, no less.”

“Fuck the VIP section,” Reed says. “I’ll take you
backstage, Kat. You can watch the show from there.”

“Really?” I say. “Wow.”

“Thanks, man,” Josh says.

“No problem, bro. Just text me when you know who’s
going tomorrow,” Reed says. “Jonas, Henn, whoever’s in your group.
Just lemme know. Speaking of which, where’s Henn? I miss that
little fucker.”

“I called him. He’s still working,” Josh says. “He
said he might be able to break free tomorrow night, depending on
how the work thing goes. It’s all really up in the air.”

“Okay, lemme know. So, Dean,” Reed says to the
dark-haired hottie, “2Real’s been writing songs for his debut
album. Wait ’til you hear what this guy writes. Fucking brilliant.
Game-changing. I’m not exaggerating. You’re gonna wanna get in on
this. I was thinking you two might set up a writing sesh when
you’re back in L.A. after the tour? I have a feeling if you guys
lock yourselves into a room together for a day, a number one hit’s
gonna come out of it.”

“Sure,” Dean says. “I’d love to.”

“Sick,” Will says, his face bursting with
excitement. “Looking forward to it.”

The two guys exchange numbers.

“You guys just did
SNL,
right?” Will
asks.

“Yeah. Last week. Surreal,” Dean says.

“Were you shitting your pants the whole time?”

Dean laughs. “Totally.”

Everyone laughs.

“I’d totally shit my pants, too, no doubt about it,”
Will says.

“Well, then, you’d better invest in some fucking
Depends, 2Real,” Reed says. “Because you’ll be doing
SNL
one
of these days, too—sooner rather than later, I predict.”

Will pulls Carmen into him. “That’d be so fucking
insane.” His face is on fire.

“There’s no doubt in my mind,” Carmen says, nuzzling
into him.

Josh begins chatting comfortably with the RCR boys
and Will about music and the tour, but I’m completely mute. It’s
totally out of character for me, but I can’t seem to think of
anything witty to say, so I figure I’d better not talk at all. How
did I get here? Red Card Riot’s hit “Shaynee” was playing in the
taxi on the way to Reed’s club, and now two members of the band are
standing here, swigging beers and chatting amiably with Josh about
their show in Dallas earlier tonight? It takes a lot to make me
speechless, but, by God, I am.

Josh puts his arm around me. “Are you okay, PG?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You’re awfully quiet.”

“I’m just... stunned.”

He laughs. “How ’bout a drink?”

I nod, though I’m already feeling extremely buzzed,
truth be told.

“A martini?”

I shake my head. “Surprise me,” I say. “I love
surprises.”

He winks. “My kinda girl.”

After Josh leaves, I unabashedly eavesdrop on Will’s
conversation with Dean and C-Bomb. They’re talking about their
musical influences with incredible passion. God, I wish my youngest
brother, Dax, were here. Listening to these guys talk would be his
dream come true.

After a moment, my eyes drift to Carmen and I notice
she looks a little bit lost.

I move to her and put my arm around her shoulder.
“Hey, Carmen. Is this party as overwhelming to you as it is to
me?”

Carmen twists her mouth adorably. “I feel like a
deer in headlights,” she admits. “It wasn’t too long ago I was
watching Will perform at a local club for fifty people.”

“Have you and Will been together a long time?”

She nods. “About two years. What about you and
Josh?”

“Oh, we’re not a couple. This is just our first
night out.”

“Seriously? Wow. I would have guessed you’ve been
together forever.”

I laugh. “That’s funny.”

I glance across the suite at Josh—he’s deep in
concentration, making some sort of complicated concoction at the
bar—and my skin buzzes at the mere sight of him.

Carmen rests her cheek on my shoulder in the most
adorably affectionate way, making me think of Sarah again.

“Carmen, you remind me so much of my best friend,
Sarah, it’s uncanny.”

“I do?”

I nod. “She’s the best. Gorgeous, funny, super-duper
smart. Weird.” I laugh. “The sweetest girl you’ll ever meet.”

“Well, thanks. It sounds like you’ve just given me a
huge compliment.”

“Definitely.”

Josh returns with two glasses and hands me a
red-colored drink.

“What is it?” I ask, sniffing it. “You looked like
you were busy building an atomic bomb over there.”

“It’s an original creation. I call it a Kiss,” he
says, a cocky grin spreading across his face.

“Oh, really? I’ve never had one of those—at least
not from you,” I say.

“I figured you were dying to taste a Kiss from me,
though.” He winks. “So I decided to make your dreams come
true.”

I smirk. “Gee, thanks. What’s exactly in a Kiss from
Josh Faraday?”

“All sorts of stuff to make your toes tingle and
your face go numb. Try it.”

I take a long, slow sip. “Whoa, it’s strong,” I say.
“And delicious. Kinda curls my toes, actually.”

“That about sums up a Kiss from Josh Faraday:
toe-curling.”

I motion to his cup. “Is that what you’re having,
too?”

“No, I made myself something totally different—I
call it The Terrorist.” He takes a sip from his cup. “It really
socks a punch. Honestly, it’ll probably knock me off my feet—might
even be the death of me. But something tells me it’s gonna be well
worth the pain.”

Kat

After downing two Kisses from Josh Faraday, I’ve
suddenly got a freaking fantabulous idea. “Let’s go for a swim,
Joshie Woshie.”

“Yessssssssssssss, Kitty Kat,” he says. Without
hesitation, he rips off his jacket and begins unzipping his pants
while I frenetically pull my mini-dress over my head and kick off
my shoes.

I throw my dress over the back of a lounge chair,
adrenaline coursing through my veins (along with the booze), and
stand with my hands on my hips like Wonder Woman in front of Josh,
wearing nothing but a G-string, belly ring, black-lace push-up bra,
and a smile. “Hey, Playboy,” I coo. I wink and pucker my lips at
him.

He stops what he’s doing and freezes, his eyes fixed
on me. “Whoa.”

I shake my ass, honk my boobs like they’re horns on
the handlebars of a little girl’s bike, and cannonball into the
pool with a humongous splash. When my face breaks the surface of
the water, I’m treated to the hilarious vision of Josh furiously
kicking off his shoes and peeling off his pants like they’re on
fire.

“Come on, Playboy,” I catcall to him. “That’s as
fast as you can move, you pansy-ass?”

There’s a huge splashing noise to my right. And then
another. And another. Sounds like I’ve started a trend. I glance
toward the splashing—it’s two guys and a girl I recognize from a
sitcom—and then my eyes drift back to Josh. He’s just now in the
process of removing his button-down shirt... to reveal... holy
motherfucking shit on a fucking stick. Wow. Holy Washboard Abs,
Batman. Holy Pecs. Holy Biceps. Holy Hot Damn. Josh Faraday is
unexpectedly a freaking god among men.

Good lord. I knew I felt hard muscles underneath his
designer suit when we were dirty dancing. And I knew the dude
regularly climbs rocks and mountains with his brother. But I never
could have predicted...
this
—this walking temple of
masculine perfection. For the love of all things holy, Cameron
Fucking Schulz is a professional athlete and his body doesn’t hold
a freaking candle to Josh’s. Josh is a living sculpture. Ripped and
perfectly proportioned. Lean in all the right places and buffed out
where it counts. Holy hell.

And speaking of buffed out where it counts, Jesus
Christ, those little white briefs can’t hide the extremely large
package he’s got between his legs. Holy hell, I’m swooning.

And on top of all that, oh my God, as if all that
goodness weren’t enough to hurtle a woman into instant orgasm, the
man is absolutely riddled with the sexiest tattoos I’ve ever seen,
too. How the hell did I not know he was covered in ink until now?
His chest is emblazoned boldly with the swirling word “GRACE” and
the word “OVERCOME” is inked across his lower abs, right above the
waistband of his tighty-whities. When he pivots to throw his shirt
onto a nearby chair, a tattoo I can’t make out flashes quickly on
his left side—I think I saw a tree? And when he turns the other
way, oh my God, to top it all off, there’s a fire-breathing dragon
covering his right bicep.