Heat Of The Moment (Brooklyn Heat) by Locklyn Marx Page A

blonde hair.”
    “Oh my God,” Jay said. “You love her!”
    “What?”
    “You love her! All those questions about how did I know that Alyssa was the one, and now you won’t even tell me what this girl looks like!”
    “I told you what she looks like!”
    “She has blonde hair?” Jay scoffed. “Come on. No hint of her breast size? No discussion of how she looks in a bikini or what you want to do to her sexually?”
    “Jay,” Chad said, as if he was talking to a child, “I wasn’t going to say those things when your fiancé asked what she looked like. That’s disrespectful.”
    “That’s bullshit,” Jay said. “Alyssa doesn’t care and you know it.”
    “I have to go.”
    “Tell me what she looks like!”
    “I have to go.” He hung up the phone and looked out the window, watching Manhattan sliding by until it turned into Brooklyn. His phone buzzed in his lap, and he looked down, expecting a text from Jay, giving him more shit. He picked it up, ready to give in, to make sure that he described her this time, giving all the disgusting details he usually did. But it wasn’t Jay. It was Kenley.
    “Flight arrives at 3:15,” the text said “See you then.”
    That was all. No ‘looking forward to it’ or ‘can’t wait to see you’ or ‘what do you want to do tonight.’
    Who cares? Chad told himself. It’s just business. That conversation with Jay had left him rattled. It didn’t mean anything that he wouldn’t describe Kenley, just that she meant nothing to him. This was an arrangement, pure and simple. He scrolled through his phone, looking at the numbers of women he’d amassed over the years. Some of the names he didn’t even recognize.
    In a couple of days, when this whole thing was over, he would call one of them, celebrate his new deal with a bang. No pun intended. Satisfied, he leaned back against the seat and enjoyed the rest of the ride to Brooklyn.

    ***
    “You’re going to do what?” Melissa screeched. She was sitting on Kenley’s bed while Kenley rummaged around in the closet.
    “I’m going to be his fake girlfriend,” Kenley said. She’d taken a flight this morning from Florida to Connecticut so that she could check on her apartment and pack some things for New York. Later this afternoon, she’d fly from New Haven to LaGuardia to meet Chad.
    She surveyed her clothes, running her eyes across the comfortable sweaters and soft denim. What did one wear when they were pretending to be the girlfriend of a famous baseball player? Something told her that her GAP and Old Navy heavy wardrobe wasn’t going to cut it.
    “And he’s paying you?” Melissa asked.
    “Yes.”
    Melissa cocked her head and pulled one of her long dark curls down and wound it around her finger. “No offense, but why does he have to pay for it?”
    Kenley pulled out her suitcase and set it on the bed. She’d been in such a rush to leave Connecticut for Florida that she hadn’t taken the time to really pack much of her stuff. The weather in Connecticut was cold, and in Florida it wasn’t, so she’d just bought a bunch of cheap bathing suits and stuff when she’d gotten down there. Looking back, she had probably been in a little bit of denial, spending a bunch of money on new summer clothes she didn’t need when she’d just lost her job. Oh, well. Money wasn’t going to be a problem soon, har har har.
    “I told you, there are pictures of me and him together,” Kenley said. “So he had to pretend that I was his girlfriend.”
    “Why were there pictures of you guys together?” Melissa leaned back against the pillows on Kenley’s bed and took a sip of the Starbucks pumpkin spice latte in her hand.
    “I’m sorry, it’s early, and I’m having trouble processing this.”
    “Because I was coming out of his hotel room, and some little jerk asshole who worked there took a picture of us.” She held up a black dress she’d gotten for fifteen dollars at TJ Maxx, but was DKNY. “Do you think I can