In Her Best Friend's Bed

She wants him so much!

Abby Shaw has had enough. She’s done with relationships (why are guys always so needy?) and wants to focus on getting her career off the ground. The fact that Trevor Jones—her new best bud and her boss—is seriously hot shouldn’t complicate things at all. But that deliciously hard, tattooed body? A kiss that suggests hours—and nights—of wicked pleasure? Yep, Trevor is trouble...

Abby and Trevor can’t resist turning “just friends” into “friends with sexy benefits.” Which means lots of hot sex, no messy emotions. It’s the perfect arrangement—at first. But their searing sexual chemistry verges on becoming dangerously intimate...and Abby will do just about anything to keep herself from falling in love with Trevor Jones.

“Do you want to be my friend?”

Abby leaned in and pressed her lips to the warm skin below Trevor’s scruffy jaw. “With benefits?”

All Abby heard and felt was Trevor’s groan as it rumbled from his throat, and he wrapped his fingers around the back of her head and pulled her to him. Their lips met with passionate fury. This kiss was more...heated. Like water sizzling on a hot pan, the months of sexual tension that had bubbled between them came boiling over as they grabbed at each other frantically and kissed against the door of her fridge.

Trevor’s hands slid up and down her body, exploring her curves, pushing her clothing out of the way. His body was pressed against hers, sandwiching her between his hard, warm front and the cold of the fridge door.

“God, Abby,” he muttered on a harsh exhalation, with a shake of his head.

She could feel the hard length of him pressed against her belly. Thankfully, he kissed her once again then brought his lips to her ear and whispered, “Where’s your bedroom?”

Dear Reader,

In my Blaze debut, In the Boss’s Bed, Abby and Trevor provide much needed advice and guidance to Maya and Jamie, their respective best friends. But in the course of writing the book, I kind of fell in love with Abby and Trevor. I knew almost immediately that I had to give them their own story.

Abby and Trevor became fast friends when Maya and Jamie moved to Las Vegas. Neither is looking for a romantic relationship, but when they decide to try a friends with benefits arrangement, they think that they can maintain emotional distance while enjoying some wild nights together. But they soon find themselves way over their heads when their feelings enter the picture.

Friends-to-lovers is one of my favorite tropes, because why wouldn’t somebody fall in love with their best friend? Who else knows your good and bad sides? Who knows what you like and what you don’t? Who do you go to when you’re having a bad day? But as we learn with Abby and Trevor, things aren’t always that easy.

I hope you enjoy reading In Her Best Friend’s Bed. If you ever want to chat, send me an email: jmargotcritch@gmail.com, or hit me up on Twitter: @juanitamcritch.

Cheers!

J

In Her Best Friend’s Bed

J. Margot Critch

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JUANITA MARGOT CRITCH currently lives in St. John’s, Newfoundland, with her husband, Brian, and their two little buddies, Simon and Chibs. She spends equal amounts of time writing, listening to Jimmy Buffett’s music and looking out at the ocean, all the while trying to decide if she wants coffee or a margarita.

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As always, to Brian. Thank you for being the man all romance heroes aspire to be.

To lovely editor-extraordinaire Johanna Raisanen at Harlequin Blaze. Thank you for all of your guidance, support and patience. None of this could have happened without you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Extract

Copyright

1

TREVOR JONES LOOKED around the lounge of Swerve Las Vegas Hotel and Night Club, and as he sipped his champagne, one thing was clear—Jamie Sellers sure knew how to throw one hell of a party. He caught sight of his friend and Jamie’s new fiancée, Maya, as they made their rounds, greeting people, shaking hands, hugging. Jamie was smiling, relaxed.

In all of the years that Trevor had known Jamie, he had never seen his friend look quite so laid-back. Trevor knew that normally this type of event, the opening of a new Swerve location, would have tied Jamie into a ball of frayed nerves. But Maya’s presence and her love must have calmed him that evening. She had turned Jamie into a new man entirely. Of course, Trevor was happy for his friend. And he was proud of Jamie’s accomplishments, but with his recent success in Las Vegas and the hand of his love, Trevor couldn’t help but think that he and Jamie were about to spend a lot more time apart, and, as a grown man, that filled him with more gloom than he would have expected. Maybe Jamie’s success, professionally and personally, made Trevor realize that he, himself, wasn’t getting any younger. He was in his thirties. Maybe it was time for Trevor to move on with his life, settle down.

Trevor took a deep breath, inserted a finger under the collar of his shirt and pulled the constricting material away from his neck. He rolled his shoulders. The tailored jacket that had fit him perfectly earlier that evening now stretched across his shoulders and didn’t give an inch, as his internal temperature rose high enough to boil water. Trevor couldn’t wait to get back to his room to remove the suffocating layers.

He hated wearing suits.

Trevor’s wardrobe normally consisted of casual wear—jeans and T-shirts. His work behind the bar required him to be comfortable and unrestricted in his movements, especially when it was time to do a little drink mixing and flair bartending to the oohs and ahhs of the crowd. But the second you fasten all of the buttons on a shirt up to the collar and add the silk noose of a necktie, a confining jacket and tight, shiny shoes, it was enough to make a man go crazy.

He took a gulp of champagne and a meaningful look at the hardworking staff behind the bar. He wished he was back there, in his element, instead of a guest at the party. He just wasn’t in the mood to socialize, and Trevor wondered if Jamie would mind if he left the party early and went back to his room.

“You’re pretty quiet tonight over here by yourself.” He heard her voice behind him, interrupting his reverie. He recognized the voice—smoky, breathy—and he knew who he would see when he turned. But he wasn’t prepared for the visage she presented. Abby, Maya’s best friend. She was the feisty, pixie-haired blonde he had met on a couple of previous occasions before offering her a job behind the bar with him at the original Swerve, back home in Montreal.

He’d seen her earlier that night, in Jamie’s office, when they had all privately celebrated the opening and the engagement of their friends before hitting the party. But, like him, she had since changed out of her casual clothing into something more appropriate for the opulent gathering. Tonight her short blond hair was gelled back, and she was wearing a long-sleeved black dress, the neckline high, swathing her collarbone. He would have considered it to be far too conservative for the woman whose fashion choices leaned toward daring or risqué, but he had just seen the back, which was cut to just above her perfect behind, and the slit in the leg that parted high on her thigh when she walked.

She had great legs, in addition to every other feature, and he knew she had a flawless body under all that dress, as he’d gotten more than a few glimpses at a pool party that Jamie had thrown months earlier. When his eyes returned to her face, her smile let him know that she had caught him checking her out. She pursed her lips at him and took a drink from her champagne flute. “I would’ve expected you to have at least two women on your arm by now.”

With a cool smile, Trevor leaned in to her, close enough to smell her perfume, mingling with the smell of the champagne that lingered on her lips. “Oh, you know, I’m scoping the place out, weighing my options. How about you? No men here catching your eye?”

She laughed. The soft, raspy sound made him smile. She took a look around, surveying the room, and nodded appreciatively. “No one yet, but the night is young. There are lots of beautiful people here tonight.”

“There certainly are,” he answered, not able to take his eyes from her. What other people? If Trevor was being completely honest, he would admit that he hadn’t actually noticed any of them, especially with Abby standing in front of him in one of the sexiest dresses he’d ever seen. “And what about your boyfriend?” Trevor asked her, eyebrow raised. “Luther, is it?”

“Luke,” she corrected him with a side-eye glance. “And he’s neither a Luther nor my boyfriend.”

“Oh, really? What happened?” He tried his best to sound like the concerned friend he should be, all the while attempting to conceal his smile. Trevor never liked the guy; he wasn’t good enough for a woman like Abby.

Abby rolled her eyes. “He used the L word.”

“Loan?”

“Love,” she said with a laugh, pushing his shoulder playfully.

“It’s a bit soon for that, isn’t it?” Trevor asked. “You guys weren’t together very long.”

“You are correct. We were together for five weeks.”

“And the L word came out? Like, in conversation, or in the throes of passion?”

Abby giggled. “In a text message. This morning. Not one ounce of passion involved.”

“So, what happened then?”

“I texted him back, saying that maybe we should see other people, and I went back to eating my crepes.”

“That’s cold.”

Abby shrugged. “I’m not looking to be stuck in some relationship. Never have, never will. And he knew that.” She shrugged. Clearly not too broken up about her recent breakup. She turned back to Trevor. “Look at us, just a couple of kids from Montreal, partying with the upper echelon of the Las Vegas elite.” She smiled. But Trevor could tell that the curve of her lips was forced, and in her eyes was a look as weary as the one in his own.

“We sure are,” he agreed, but his sigh was heavy. “It’s a good time.”

Abby’s eyes were sharp as he felt their scrutiny, and it was a few seconds before she said anything. “Then why does it look like you’re about to bolt out of here?”

She had him there. Instead of answering her, Trevor brought his champagne flute to his lips and regrettably found it empty. He wished for more in an effort to cool his internal temperature and to quench his too-dry throat. He looked at Abby’s hand and noticed that she had drained her glass, as well. Turning, he gestured to the bar. “Care for another drink?”

“Sure.”

He looked around, searching for a waiter with a tray of champagne, but he found none nearby. Figuring they could probably get their glasses quickly refilled at the bar, Trevor moved aside so she could go first. He instinctively placed an escorting hand at the small of her back, and his palm tingled at the connection with her smooth skin, exposed by the indecently low cut of the back of her dress and slightly chilled from exposure to the room’s air-conditioning.

When he touched her, she stopped walking and looked up at him, her lips parted in surprise. Despite the considerable height provided to her by her stilettos, she was petite and the top of her head still only came to his chin. Trevor lowered his gaze to her red lips and found it nearly impossible to look elsewhere, until he forced himself and his eyes found hers. A beat of silence fell over them. Trevor could hear neither the music piping throughout the club nor the revelry of his fellow partygoers. He heard only the sound of his own heartbeat, pounding in his chest, and the blood rushing past his ears. And, for a moment, neither he nor Abby moved. Both of them seemed transfixed by the way his hand felt on her, how his palm flattened and molded to the smooth arch of her lower back.

Unable to tear his eyes from her, he took a chance. Testing the boundaries of both of them, Trevor moved his hand a little lower, his pinkie finger skimming the top of the material that curved over her behind. He watched Abby’s shoulders rise and felt her ragged shudder when they fell again. He realized then that he had been holding his breath and he let it go, exhaling roughly.

Abby blinked and finally looked around the room. She opened her mouth a little farther as if to speak, and the spell broke. “Uh...how about that drink?”

Trevor pulled his hand away and fastened the buttons of his jacket hastily, leaving only the bottom one undone. Thankfully, the length of his jacket covered the makings of the erection that resulted from only touching her bare skin. He took a step back and extended a hand in the direction of the bar. “After you.”

Abby nodded and walked ahead of him, with him staying a couple of steps behind her, and he couldn’t help but notice the sexy sway of her hips under the dark color of her dress and the way its low back threatened to reveal more with every step she took.

They found two empty seats at the bar. The bartender was quick and in seconds they had fresh glasses of champagne in their hands. Trevor took a sip and hummed appreciatively. Of course the champagne was top-shelf. Jamie knew the importance of creating a good impression with his guests, and he would never skimp when it came to getting the good stuff. He watched the bar staff whom he’d helped hire and train as they worked quickly and efficiently together. He smiled. He was glad that they turned out to be a good team. If the party and grand opening of Swerve Las Vegas was any indication, Jamie was about to have yet another successful venture on his hands.

“Quite a shindig, eh?” Abby remarked as she drank her champagne, her eyes looking everywhere but at him. Trevor wondered if he had previously misread her. He feared that he had made her nervous, and in turn made things awkward between them, ruining the budding friendship that they’d formed.

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “Classic Jamie. The man knows how to show people a good time.” He once again spied Jamie and Maya in the crowd as a couple of men shook Jamie’s hand and shifted away, leaving the couple alone for once.

“Isn’t it crazy that they’re engaged?” Abby asked him. She was watching them as Jamie scooped Maya up in a bear hug, lifting her off her feet and kissing her. Abby smiled, obviously as happy for them as Trevor was. “It’s so fast!”

“It certainly is. But they’re good for each other. I’m glad it worked out for them,” Trevor agreed, recalling the rocky road that had brought Jamie and Maya to that moment. “And I’m willing to bet that Jamie would like nothing more than for the both of them to get out of here and celebrate in private.”

“You’re telling me,” Abby said with a laugh.

Trevor and Abby sat in silence for a bit, both watching the crowd of people swarming and mingling before them. Then Trevor surreptitiously glanced at the gorgeous woman beside him, and he considered his physical reaction to simply touching Abby. He’d been with his share of women and had certainly touched more than a bare back in his day, but when he was near Abby, it felt like something inside him shifted. Sure, he was attracted to her—she’s a beautiful woman—but there was something else, something intangible that pulled at every fiber of his being, of his desire, when she was around.

He heard Abby laugh at something the bartender said to her. He frowned, feeling a small tinge of jealousy. But he shook his head to dispel it. It was never going to happen. It wouldn’t be appropriate. The time for them to get together had long passed.

When Trevor had first met Abby, she was a customer at Swerve. He’d thought she was hot, but he didn’t date customers. The next time they had met was at Jamie’s pool party back in June. Abby had worn the smallest bikini and it still fueled many of his hottest fantasies.

Fast forward to the present, and Trevor’s gaze drifted down to where she crossed her legs on the bar stool. The high slit of her skirt had fallen open, fully exposing her long, tanned and shapely legs. In his mind’s eye, Trevor pictured himself kissing his way up those legs, starting at her delicate ankle, dragging his tongue along the toned muscle of her calf, nibbling her inner thigh as he rose over her...

“So, do you have any plans for later, or do you just want to sit here and stare at my legs all night?”

Busted. He looked at her face and smiled broadly, unembarrassed. She had caught him checking her out once again. He clearly wasn’t being covert this evening. He must be off his game. Trevor laughed, and he had to think quickly. “Well, ah, I was just admiring your shoes. They’re great, but I’m not sure how you can walk in those things.”

She looked to her feet and the dangerously high heels. “If you like them so much, maybe you’ll get a pair of your own at the Swerve holiday gift exchange,” she told him pointedly.

She had him there. His libido came crashing back to earth when he finally remembered that she was his employee. When he’d heard that she was having trouble landing a job after graduating last spring, Trevor had hired Abby to work at Swerve and she had proved to be quite a valuable asset. Abby was an efficient, hard worker, and she kept the bar clean and tidy and the customers happy. He knew she wouldn’t be with him for long, since it would only be a matter of time until her job search rewarded her with a career suitable to her qualifications. But hiring her had still been a great decision.

When he didn’t reply, Abby laughed and sipped her drink. He noticed the flush on her cheeks. “I think I need a little air,” she announced, facing him. She stood. “Care to join me?”

Trevor decided then that he would go anywhere with her. “Sure.” When she started to make her way to the patio, he stopped her. “Wait. Have you seen the VIP rooftop bar in this place?”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “I have not. I didn’t even know there was one. But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Well, it’s not officially finished yet, but Jamie showed me yesterday. It’s great.”

She looked around the room. “Where is it?”

“On the roof,” he supplied with a smirk.

“You’re such a smart-ass,” she muttered, throwing a light punch on his shoulder. “How do we get there?”

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

He stood, careful to not touch her in any way, lest he lose control and throw her over his shoulder, run upstairs with her and lock them both in his room. They walked out of the club and past the regular bank of elevators to the one that would take them to the penthouse suites. From his pocket, Trevor removed the key card that Jamie had given him, emblazoned in gold with the letters VIP, and he inserted it into the slot to call the elevator.

“VIP, eh?” Abby asked him in a playful tone.

“Don’t be too impressed,” he told her as they stepped inside the elevator car. “It’s only because I’m very important,” he assured her, his voice deadpan, as he pushed the button to bring them to the rooftop.

Abby laughed, the soft, breathy sound filling the inside of the small elevator as it began its ascent.

Trevor watched her in the mirrored glass that covered the interior. Abby, however, was watching the numbers as they quickly climbed the floors to the top, but when she looked at the mirror and saw him staring at her, their reflections locked eyes. The only noise beside their breaths was the chime as the elevator announced that they had reached the rooftop.

The elevator doors pulled apart, revealing the open rooftop bar. Trevor could picture all of the people who would flock to Swerve just for the opportunity to be seen here and take in the view. He escorted Abby over to a high railing on the far side. The 360-degree view of the lights of the Las Vegas Strip, and of downtown in the distance, took his breath away. So far he had only seen the bar in the daylight. He was impressed then, but at night it was spectacular. The white leather furniture they walked past was sleek and crisp. And the dance floor, which would soon be filled with bodies moving to pulsing beats, was elevated and would be lit from below. He could only imagine the rush that would accompany dancing so high above the streets of one of the world’s hottest party spots.

Trevor and Abby stopped at the railing and neither spoke as they took in the view. They could see the people and the revelers milling about below, but, being so high up, they could hear nothing in the silence of the empty rooftop. Despite the fact that they were in Las Vegas, the late-fall air at night held a slight chill, and he saw the small bumps rise on the skin of Abby’s back. He shrugged off his jacket and placed it over her shoulders.

She pulled it closed over her chest. “Thanks.” She hesitated. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for letting me work at the bar. I really appreciate it.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said with a shake of his head. Her features were highlighted by the glow of the moon. She looked beautiful. “Any luck on the job front?”

She shook her head. “Big, fat goose egg,” she told him, making an O with her thumb and forefinger. “I’ve got résumés out, had a couple of interviews, but nada.”

“You’ll find something,” he assured her. He knew it was true, and it made him sad that he would soon be without her. “I know you won’t be working with me forever, but it’s nice to have you there. You’re a natural behind the bar.”

“Yeah, I can really pour a drink with the best of them,” she scoffed.

Trevor frowned at her tone. He knew that she didn’t take the job as seriously as she would the marketing career she dreamed of. He wished that she understood that bartending wasn’t just about pouring beer and twirling a cocktail shaker. To be successful, one had to possess an innate quality that few people could claim to have. Most people could be good at bartending. But one had to be kind, personable, tough, funny, organized, dexterous and quick in order to be great. And she was. Abby’s quick dismissal of the profession cut him to the quick and, even though he managed one of the hippest and most successful clubs in Montreal, it made him feel like a glorified bar boy.