FriendlySeduction

Gillian Archer

Sara Banks is a
virgin
.
Apparently that word can make a grown man run scared—at least that’s what her
last boyfriend did. Now she’s on a mission to shed her good-girl persona and start
living. But the best Helios, Arizona, has to offer pales in comparison to her
best friends Rob and Marc. She’d love nothing more than to go home with them—either
of them. If only they could see past their childhood friend to the woman she’s
become.

Rob and Marc can’t believe their eyes
when they enter the hottest
bar in town and see tomboy
Sara dressed to kill, doing the bump and grind on the dance floor. Once they
learn she’s finally single, the hunt is on. Each is determined to prove he’s
the only man Sara needs. But to get the girl of their dreams, the best plan of
attack might just be a joint, friendly seduction.

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

www.ellorascave.com

Friendly Seduction

ISBN 9781419938887

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Friendly Seduction Copyright © 2012 Gillian Archer

Edited by Carrie Jackson

Cover design by Dar Albert

Photography: Ontario Inc., Mikhair Dudarev/Shutterstock.com

Electronic book publication February 2012

The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons,
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Dedication

To my own hero, Dave.

Acknowledgements

I’d like to thank my awesome crit partners and fellow EC
authors Sasha Devlin and Lauren Fraser. Thank you for all the encouragement and
butt kicking. You guys are the best.

And my fabulous editor Carrie. Your hard work has made my
story shine even brighter. Thanks. I can’t wait to work on another one with
you.

The second Rob Taggart walked through the door of his
favorite bar, Cat & Mouse, he knew it was going to be a long night.

“Holy shit! Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” A long wolf
whistle accompanied his best friend Marc Sinclair’s question.

Rob winced but he couldn’t really blame the guy. If he
hadn’t clamped his jaw, his own tongue would hang out. It wasn’t every day he
saw his other best friend do the bump and grind on the dance floor. Never mind
the outfit she was wearing.

Make that
wasn’t
wearing.

Through the sea of sweating, gyrating bodies, tomboy Sara
Banks shimmied to the throbbing beat in a skin-hugging halter dress instead of
her typical scruffy t-shirt and jeans. Despite the distance and the smoky haze,
he could tell the curves on display were mind-bogglingly hot.

Fuck.
He couldn’t think about her that way.
She’s
your best friend. She’s your best friend.

He continued his internal mantra as he elbowed Marc. “Keep
it in your pants. It’s Sara, remember? Our
friend
.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Marc squinted. “How the hell did she get
that bastard Greg on the dance floor? Isn’t he allergic to
public displays
?”

Rob tried to focus on her dance partner but with the crowd
and the distance, he couldn’t make out who it was. Rob grunted as he remembered
eavesdropping on Sara and Greg’s last fight. He doubted many people would
consider pecking a public display. What a douche. Why Sara wasted time with the
gutless wonder, he could never figure out.

“Shit, with tits like that she could lead me around by my
dick all day long,” a voice behind them interjected.

Rob and Marc turned to confront Sara’s new admirer, a
shaggy-haired, baby-faced kid who didn’t look old enough to step foot in the
bar let alone be worthy of dating their Sara.

“Hey, watch your mouth,” Rob growled.

“Dude, I don’t know what your problem is but that piece of
ass will be waking up in my bed tomorrow,” Baby Face retorted.

The pack of equally young guys behind him snickered.

Rob rubbed his hands together. This looked like the perfect
outlet for his sexual frustration. Sometimes a little rough justice was a great
cure for blue balls. Just as he moved forward to administer a friendly reminder
of manners, something on the other side of the room caught his eye.

“Holy—” Marc breathed.

“Shit.” Rob couldn’t believe what he saw. Who the fuck was
that?

“Get lost, punk, before we put a beat-down on you.” Rob
roughly bumped into the snot-nosed kid as he turned around. He marched toward
Sara, vaguely aware of Marc one step behind him.

Grabbing Sara by the shoulders, Rob tore her away from her
little dance partner. “What the fuck are you thinking?”

“Hey! Hands off!” Sara wobbled on her high heels like a
newborn colt struggling to walk for the first time as she fought to free
herself.

He curled his fingers into her shoulders. She wasn’t getting
away that easily. “Sara!” He shook her slightly. “What’s going on? Who is this
jerk-off? Where’s Greg?”

He bit back a curse when she tossed her blonde hair before
blinking up at him with her gorgeous brown eyes. God, he could spend all day
looking into them.

“Rob? Hey, Rob! Wanna dance?” Sara cuddled up to him, her
dance partner and Greg forgotten.

Rob couldn’t contain his groan. He struggled to keep his
hands from wandering a little farther south. Maybe he could use them to still
her gyrating ass.

Ah, man.
Did it make him a bad guy that he was
tempted to enjoy it just a little longer?

A quick jab in his side from Marc answered that question.

“Sara! Where’s Greg?” Marc asked.

“Home, probably.” She teetered a little unsteadily on her
killer heels.

Rob held her too close to enjoy what those heels did to her
legs. Which was fine with him, he wasn’t a leg man. He had the perfect vantage
point to enjoy her low-cut dress. If he tilted his head just right—

“Oomph!”
Damn, Marc has pointy elbows. The bastard.
Rob shook his head and looked into Sara’s face. “If he’s at home, why are you
here dry-humping that loser? Do you really think Greg won’t hear about this
tomorrow? I’m sure even a jerk like him has a friend here.”

Cat & Mouse was the only decent bar in Helios, Arizona,
after all.

“I couldn’t care less. As of eight p.m. last night, I’M A
SINGLE LADY!” With that statement, she wiggled out of Rob’s arms and started
bopping like a pop star. Before he could blink, she was surrounded by guys, all
eager to enjoy the show.

“Mother—” Rob bit out.

“Fucker! She’s finally single. I knew she was never serious
about that asshat.” Marc ran a frustrated hand though his hair.

“You’re full of it and you know it. She was damn near
picking out china patterns. If you couldn’t see the hurt in her eyes, then you
never really were her friend.” Rob curled his lip in disgust.

“Fuck you. Like you even looked above her tits.”

Rob took a step toward Marc before he remembered whose face
he was itching to rearrange. He shook his head. God, they hadn’t even made a
move on Sara yet and already they were circling each other like cheesy WWE
wrestlers.

He sighed. “This isn’t gonna work, is it?”

Marc avoided eye contact. “Yeah, it’ll work. You just need
to knock off the caveman bullshit. We agreed we’d give Sara the option and let
her decide.”

“And may the best man win?” Rob couldn’t keep the skepticism
out of his voice.

“Yup. Don’t sweat it. I’ll ask you to be the best man at
Sara’s and my wedding.”

Rob watched Marc turn and swagger into the crowd, his intent
clear. He wanted Sara and he was going to get her.

Not if Rob had anything to say about it.

He had waited forever for his chance with Sara. Watched her
waste her time and energy with that bastard Greg, but now that the path was
clear it would be his wedding in a few months’ time. Not Marc’s.

He had to win. He loved her. Had loved her ever since she’d
roped him into playing Link Larkin to her Tracy Turnblad in their high school
production of
Hairspray
. His skin crawled as he remembered being on
stage. He hated performing but he’d done it for Sara. Would do it again in a
heartbeat for her.

With a little luck, by the end of the night he’d have a
better cure for his blue balls than knocking a few heads together.

Sara Banks was feeling no pain as she bounced to the music
with Mr. Bushy Brows.
Damn it, what was his name?
She probably shouldn’t
call him that to his face. He was her first choice for a one-night stand.
Although given the slim pickings, he was probably her only choice.

At least he had been until Rob and Marc showed up to rain on
her little parade. She’d have a hard time sneaking out with Mr. Bushy Brows if
those two shadowed her all evening.

But did she really want him? Was he the one for her? She
peeked up at his face but just couldn’t get past those eyebrows. They looked
like two furry caterpillars. Especially when he wiggled them like that. Did he
think that was hot?

Definitely not.

“I’m gonna grab another drink,” she shouted above the
pounding music as she pulled out of his sweat-dampened arms. Ugh. She swore she
could feel a slimy residue on her hips.

She darted through the crowd. No need to give him the
opportunity to hang around any longer.

When she reached the bar, she collapsed on a stool and
lifted a finger at the bartender. No more communication required. He plunked a
frosty bottle of hard lemonade in front of her but waved her off when she
started to dig into her tiny clutch. He jerked his head, signaling behind her.
Sara turned on her barstool and her breath stalled in her chest. Her euphoria
disappeared in an instant.

Marc towered over her and he looked pissed.

Sara grabbed her bottle, hopped off her stool and started
for the dance floor. Three steps later she froze when Marc’s hand curled around
her elbow.

Fuck. A. Duck.

She just couldn’t get a break tonight. Sara blew her bangs
out of her eyes and met Marc’s glare with one of her own.

“Thanks for the drink.” She turned to get away from his
big-brother stare but couldn’t shake his grasp.

“We need to talk.”

She didn’t try to hold back the eye roll. “Ah, no we don’t.
I need to find a dance partner and you need to find some other helpless little
woman. Because this damsel doesn’t need saving.” She jerked her arm again but
Marc held firm.

“Well, why didn’t you say so, princess? I’d love to dance.”
Marc plucked the bottle from her and slammed it on the bar before steering her
toward the dance floor.

Crap. Sara tripped over her feet as she struggled to keep
up. Her short, little legs were no match for Marc’s long, lean ones. After
finding a small clearing a few feet from the DJ, he pivoted and brought her
into his arms with a flick of his wrist. She stumbled, crashing into his chest.

Mmmmmmm and what a firm chest it was. Unlike most of the
men’s here, Marc’s chest was solid the old-fashioned way, from hard physical
labor. His calloused fingertips sent shivers down her spine. What she wouldn’t
give to feel those calluses rubbing her in a far more sensitive place than her
bare arms. Crap. She couldn’t think like that. Marc was a friend. Her best
friend, or one of them anyway. He obviously felt as if he had to play the
overprotective older brother tonight.

She fought the urge to whine and stamp her feet. Why tonight
of all nights? All her plotting and primping would go to waste. Her plan of a
simple one-night stand wilted beneath the glare of Sergeant Sourpuss. But why
easygoing Marc? It was usually Rob who played the overprotective,
save-the-damsel-in-distress caveman. Marc was the one she could count on to
crack a joke and lighten the atmosphere.

She peeked up at his face. Judging by his stony expression,
he probably wasn’t in the mood tonight.

“Um, Marc?” she whispered before mentally slapping herself.
There was no way he was going to hear her over—

“What, princess?” His growl vibrated the rock-hard chest
beneath her ear.

“Where’s Rob?” She cursed under her breath. That wasn’t what
she wanted to say.

Why did she go from confident She-Ra warrior to helpless
Victorian virgin just because some tall, gorgeous man put his strong, firm arms
around her? And his calloused fingers rubbed her exposed back in short,
tantalizing circles, making her wonder what they would feel like when he parted
her thighs and—

Stop. She shouldn’t think that way about her best friend.
Friend.
Not the guy she was here to pick tonight to help her—

Wait a minute. Why hadn’t he answered her?

“Marc?” Her head tilted back to meet his gaze and she
searched his hazel eyes.

He seemed…conflicted. The muscles in his cheek flexed as he
bit down, anger evident in the curl of his lips. But his eyes…they were sad. As
if he had just lost his best friend.

“Oh God. Is he okay? What happened? He was just here!” She
panicked at the thought of Rob hurt, in pain. The sexually induced haze cleared
from her brain as she pulled away and looked around the room for his trademark
auburn cropped hair.

“Sara, he’s fine. He’s just—”

“Right here,” a deep voice finished behind her.

She knew that voice. Had heard it mature from a gorgeous
alto to its current husky baritone. Sara sagged into Marc’s arms as all the
tension left her body. Rob was okay.

But that still didn’t explain Marc’s conflicted emotions. Or
the tension the throbbing music couldn’t mask. Something was up with the two
most important men in her life. And she was literally caught in the middle.

“Mind if I cut in?” Rob’s husky voice in her ear caused the
tiny hairs on the back of her neck to vibrate as a shiver rocked her body.

God, his voice was hot.

“Actually, we’re in the middle of—”

“No, I’d like to dance with you, Rob.” She didn’t know why
there was so much tension between them but it was probably better if she
separated them quickly. With the looks Marc was tossing over her shoulder,
bloodshed was sure to follow.

“Looks like you’re the better man, Rob. Congrats and all
that.” Marc pulled away from her before stomping over to the bar, grabbing her
drink and taking up residence on the barstool.

“What’s—” she gasped as Rob pulled her into his arms. From
one hard chest to another. Wow, these guys smelled good. She cleared her
throat. “Uh, what’s up with you and Marc?” Sara tried to look into his blue
eyes but couldn’t get past his lips.

“Nothing. We’re good.”

Sara snorted. “Uh, yeah, I don’t think so. Marc’s not good.
He just walked away like someone with their panties in a wad. You guys have a
fight or something?”

“I didn’t ask you to dance so we could talk about Marc.”
With that, Rob pulled her in close until her groin rubbed up against his
jean-covered thigh.

Was that… He wasn’t… He couldn’t be! Sara couldn’t believe
she felt Rob’s erection rubbing against her belly. It had to be just the fit of
his jeans.

Yeah sure
, the little voice in her head answered
sarcastically. His jeans and the sock he hid in his pants.

Oh God.

But it couldn’t be over her—Rob had never shown even the
slightest hint he saw her as anything other than a friend. Crap, she was
beginning to hate that word,
friend
. Lord knew she had a special ability
to make any erection disappear. Just ask her ex.

He probably just got an erection from dancing with another
girl and wanted some time to cool off before he went home with another woman.
Like every other Friday night.

“Sara?” Rob murmured in her ear.

“Yeah?”