Seven tasks. Twenty-four hours. And one chance.
The moment her best friend, Ben Meyers, drops his phone into her drink, model Livvie Winston knows The List has begun. Seven tasks, each more difficult than the last. If Ben completes them in twenty-four hours, Livvie must abandon her strict friends-only rule for one night of reckless, wicked sex with the most delicious man she knowsâ¦
The first tasks are easy. Order the cheapest thing on the menu. No cell phone for twenty-four hours. No ogling Livvieâs model friends. Check, check, check.
But when Ben heads to the tattoo parlor, Livvie realizes that Ben isnât just playing for one nightâheâs playing for keeps. Livvie wonât sacrifice this friendship for anythingâeven for a night of enjoying this incredibly sexy man in every naughty position imaginable. And sheâll do whatever it takes to protect their friendship and her heart, even if it means beating Ben at his own game. Even if it means playing really dirtyâ¦
Contemporary, sexy stories for sassy women
Cosmo Red-Hot Reads from Mills & Boon
www.millsandboon.co.uk/cosmo
Chapter One
âIâll have the house salad, please. Dry. And tap water.â
Livvie looked up, startled at the nonsensical words escaping her companionâs mouth. While she could understand the caloric necessity behind the occasional dinner of unadorned lettuce, no one ordered tap water at the Brick House. This place had some of the bestâand strongestâcocktails in Manhattan. One drink, and you were likely to forget your dateâs name. Two, and you forgot your own. Three, and there was a good chance youâd wake up in Vegas with a brand-new one.
Not that Livvie had ever done such a thing. She liked her name perfectly fine the way it was.
âIâm sorry, sir,â the waiter said. âDid you just order tap water?â
âYes, thank you. Letâs go crazy and add ice, shall we?â Impervious to the waiterâs raised brows, her friend Ben turned to her with a smile. This wasnât his polite company smile, either. It was all hydrogen peroxide and enamel over there, a flash of blinding white she mistrusted in an instant. âWhatâll you have, Olivia? You should get the sea bass.â
Sheâd been planning on itâin fact, it was why sheâd suggested this restaurant in the first place. She loved sea bass. As, she might add, did he.
Understanding hit her at once, and she closed her menu with an exasperated laugh. âYou jerk. You have another date after this, donât you? A real one?â
âI donât know what youâre talking about.â
âYou do too. Iâm the appetizerâand not a very good one, either. I donât even warrant a drizzle of balsamic reduction.â
He didnât lose his smile. If anything, it only increased in voltage. Ben had a way of doing that, of dazzling with his perfection. In addition to possessing teeth that belonged in a cosmetic dentistry ad, he had an array of features that looked as if theyâd been hand-selected to maximize a womanâs pleasure. His tousled brown hair held the right amount of curl to sit elegantly on his head no matter how much moisture saturated the air. His jaw was a piece of chiseled perfection that always seemed to bear exactly eight hours of stubble. And she wasnât even going to start on the business happening below his neck. This was a public place, after all.
âYouâre being paranoid,â he said, his voice deep and expressive. He had one of those, tooâa voice that rumbled with laughter when he was happy, with sex at all other times. It was unfair for one man to possess so many appealing qualities, but Benjamin Meyers had been born under a lucky star. Heâd been born under a whole sky of them. âWould it make you feel better if I ordered a wedge of lemon on the side?â
âIt would make me feel better if you ordered an enormous meal and hid it in your napkin like a gentleman.â
He ignored her and turned to the waiter. âThe lady will have the sea bass. And a vodka gimlet. You may want to keep them coming.â
The waiter didnât bother checking to make sure that was what she wanted. When Ben issued commands, the entire worldâs population climbed over itself to comply. All he had to do was open his mouth, and he had seven billion people at his bidding.
Well, seven billion minus one. Livvie was no fool.
âAll right, how much time have you allotted me?â she asked as soon as the punctilious tuxedo disappeared into the periphery. âHalf an hour? Forty-five minutes? We didnât get our rendezvous in Milan, so I havenât seen you in like two months.â
âTwo months and six days, if you want to be exact.â