Page 6 of Infatuation (The Josh & Kat Trilogy #1)

Oh, shit, I’ve still gotta come up with my social media campaign for that chain of barbeque restaurants.

Damn. Maybe Hannah will help me brainstorm?

Yeah, I’ll take her to lunch tomorrow and see if she’ll pretty-please help me out.

We haven’t been to The Tavern in a while. They’ve got such great salads—

Oh, jeez. I’m thinking about salad while kissing my hot bodyguard? What the hell? Come on, Kat! Kevin Costner. Whitney Houston. Bodyguard. Focus .

My phone buzzes again, just once, with an incoming text. Oh jeez. Someone’s really trying to reach me. I push on Derek’s chest. “Hang on a minute,” I say. “Lemme check my phone real quick.”

Derek sits up and wipes his mouth, his eyes blazing.

I grab my phone and look at the display.

The missed call was from a number I don’t recognize.

A “323” number. Isn’t that L.A.? I peek into my texts and the new text is from that same unrecognizable number, too: “Kat, this is Josh Faraday,” the text says.

My heart skips a beat. “Call me immediately. Please. It’s urgent that I talk to you. ”

Derek kisses me and kneads my ass again.

Could it be the Playboy is calling me with an “urgent” invitation to dinner?

Sarah told me Josh asked for my phone number last night, intending to ask me to dinner after Jonas kicked him out of his house, but Sarah told him I was already out to dinner with my new bodyguard.

Sarah said Josh looked deflated and said he was gonna hop a flight back to L.A.

—but did he change his mind and stay in Seattle?

I push on Derek’s chest again and sit completely upright. “Excuse me, Derek,” I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “I’ve got to make a quick call.”

Derek exhales, clearly frustrated, but I don’t care. It’s suddenly quite clear to me I’d rather be out on a date with Josh Faraday, world-class Mickey-Mouse-rollercoaster-rider or not, than trying to screw a bodyguard wearing oven mitts who couldn’t kiss his way out of a paper bag.

I practically sprint into my bedroom and close my door behind me, my heart leaping out of my chest.

Josh Faraday. Now there’s a guy who makes visions of blowjobs dance in my head. The minute I laid eyes on the man, I felt like I’d been struck by a sexual lightning bolt—and I’m positive he felt it, too. He didn’t even try to hide it.

But I’ve got to be careful. Josh is obviously a player of staggering proportions, and I’m not a girl who likes to be chewed up and spit out by any man.

If anyone’s gonna do the chewing up and spitting out, then it’s gonna be me.

And I’m not so sure I could manage getting the upper hand with a seasoned player like Josh Faraday.

Every article I read about the Faraday brothers when I was snooping around in Jonas’ office the other night (and there were a lot of them) made at least passing reference to Josh’s oversized appreciation for beautiful women.

But, of course, I would have figured that out without the benefit of those articles.

One quick Google search of the guy revealed he burns through supermodels and reality TV starlets and actresses and daughters of moguls like a Weedwacker.

I mean, seriously. The dude’s face is plastered all over the Internet with strikingly beautiful women at black-tie events and fundraisers and concerts and parties all over the frickin’ world .

Jeez. I love to have fun, too, God knows I do—but I’m just a pharmacist’s daughter living in Seattle and working at a PR firm.

My idea of fun is going to a karaoke bar with my friends on a Saturday night—not the Cannes Film Festival with Isabel Randolph. Holy shitballs.

And the way he referred to the women in The Club as Mickey Mouse rollercoasters was kinda Douchey McDouchey-pants I gotta say.

I’m certainly not one to judge anyone, guy or girl, for enjoying sex and having a whole frickin’ lot of it—more power to all my horny sistren and brethren—but before I volunteer to be one of Josh Faraday’s many, many rollercoasters, I’d sure like to know what I’d be getting myself into.

Holy shitballs. That’s an understatement.

I’d give literally anything to read that boy’s application to The Club and find out his dirty little secrets.

But first things first: why’d he call? Well, no sense wondering.

I’ll just call him back and find out. And, heck, maybe as a condition to saying yes to dinner (if, indeed, that’s what he’s aiming for), I’ll ask him to email me his Club application.

Why not? It sure seems like Sarah reading Jonas’ application from the get-go worked out pretty damned well for them.

I take a deep breath. Okay, yes. That’s my strategy. I’ll say yes to dinner if he sends me his application. Bold. Ballsy. Kind of obnoxious—but awesome. Yes.

I’m about to press the “call back” button next to Josh’s text, when I remember his voicemail message. I’d better listen to it first before calling him back.

“Kat, this is Josh Faraday,” Josh’s voice says—and the tightness of his tone makes my stomach clench. That’s not the tone of a man calling to ask a girl out on a date. “Please call me right away,” he says. “It’s urgent. Thank you.”

Now I’m confused. What on earth could—

I gasp.

Sarah.

Oh my God. Was Jonas right? Was Sarah actually in grave danger, just like he predicted? I can barely breathe as I push the “call back” button on my phone.

Josh picks up my call immediately. “Kat?” he says, his voice tight.

“What happened, Josh?” I blurt. “Is it Sarah?” I sit down on the edge of my bed, swallowing hard. This is gonna be bad. This is gonna be really, really bad. I know it is. I suddenly feel like I’m gonna throw up.

Josh exhales loudly. “Sarah’s been stabbed.”

“No,” I blurt.

“She’s at the hospital now. Jonas just called me.” His voice wobbles. “She was attacked in a bathroom at school. ”

“No.” Tears instantly flood my eyes. “ Sarah .”

“I’m trying to get a flight back to Seattle—not having any luck. I need you to get Sarah’s mom and get over to the hospital as soon as possible, okay?”

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Sarah.”

“Kat. Listen to my voice. I need you to get Sarah’s mom and get over to the hospital as soon as possible. Can you do that for me?”

I take a deep breath and wipe my tears. “Okay.”

“Good girl. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

I can’t control my emotions anymore. I lose myself to sobs. “Sarah. Oh my God. No.”