Just a Little Flirt Read online

  Just a Little Flirt is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A Flirt eBook Original

  Copyright © 2015 by Renita Pizzitola

  Excerpt from Just a Little Kiss by Renita Pizzitola copyright © 2015 by Renita Pizzitola

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Flirt, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  FLIRT is a registered trademark and the FLIRT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Just a Little Kiss by Renita Pizzitola. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.

  eBook ISBN 9780553395112

  Cover design: Seductive Designs

  Cover photograph: © Guryanov Andrey/Shutterstock

  www.readflirt.com

  v4.0

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  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  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

  Epilogue

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  By Renita Pizzitola

  About the Author

  Excerpt from Just a Little Kiss

  Chapter 1

  I’d always wanted to be beautiful. Not just above-average pretty or I-want-in-your-pants sexy. No, more like Audrey Hepburn. Classic. Flawless. The kind of beautiful people can’t help but admire. I wanted to leave a boy in awe. In breathless wonder as I passed. And then I wanted that boy to chase me down, vie for my attention and battle his way into my heart because to know that kind of beauty and live without it would be tragedy.

  But anyone who knew me, knew I wasn’t “that girl.” I was the girl guys took to bed, but never home. The one who made them feel good for a moment, but never a lifetime.

  For college boys, I was basically the revolving door to sowing their oats. And I was okay with that…or, at least, I used to be. But the second I’d stepped through the doors of Memorial Hospital, I’d left it behind. This internship was my future, an opportunity to stay in Texas with a promise to never have to move back to Colorado.

  Problem was…the hospital elevator had other plans.

  Waiting at ground level, I pushed the up button and stared at the shiny metal doors waiting for them to glide open. Nothing. I glanced up at the glowing number four, begging for it to start its descent to one. But it didn’t budge. How long did it take for people to get on?

  I checked my phone. My earliness could quickly creep to tardiness if the elevator didn’t hurry. Or made multiple stops. Or I got lost. Shit. The warmth of panic rose, creeping up my neck and singeing my ears. With a deep breath, I forced the anxiety back into submission and scanned the area for a stairwell.

  Bingo.

  I scurried toward the stairs, praying the three flights wouldn’t do me in. Exercise had slipped off the agenda freshman year, replaced by too much tequila and too little sleep. But really, it was only a few stairs. I could do this.

  As I pounded up the second flight my breathing shallowed. And by the time I’d rounded the last landing, my calves burned and a fine coat of perspiration dotted my forehead. Were stairwells air-conditioned? Didn’t help it was summer. And I was wearing way too many clothes. Good God it was hot. The dress pants and button-down started to cling to my skin.

  Forcing my legs to move, I sped up, ready to just be done.

  A guy’s voice echoed around the corner.

  I made the last turn and stepped right to avoid him. With his phone pressed to his ear, he didn’t seem to notice me. He spoke animatedly, either excited or mad, but as I slipped past he threw his arm out to the side. And I ran smack into it.

  My body buckled as my gut took a direct blow into one solid freaking—and might I add, impressive—forearm.

  “Shit,” he murmured, lowering his phone. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” His eyes were huge as they assessed me for damage. Nice eyes too. Dark blue. Like indigo, which contrasted nicely with his honey-blond hair.

  Unfortunately, the wind had been knocked out of me, so all I managed was a nod and a super-attractive choking gasp.

  He pressed his phone to his ear. “I’ll call you right back.” He slid it into his pocket and reached out to me. “I didn’t see you. God, I’m so sorry.”

  I finally managed a response. “It’s fine. I was rushing and not paying attention.” Which was a lie, but I just wanted to run. This guy was hot and I was a sweating, heaving mess.

  Once I was steady on my feet, he pulled his hand back and studied me, his gaze flicking from my mouth to my eyes to my hair, back to my mouth.

  I suppressed an eye roll. It might seem like he was ensuring I was okay, but I’d had enough interest from guys to know when one was checking me out, evaluating his probability to score. They always seemed to like their odds. Rightfully so.

  If I were on campus or at a club, I would have flirted back, seeing as he was an attractive guy, but I was here for work. So instead, my defenses sprang to life. I couldn’t let my reputation around campus make it into this hospital, not even for Mr. Sexy Arms.

  His gaze lowered even further, fixating on my chest.

  What little patience I had vanished. “Like what you see?”

  His eyes popped up and he stared at me. His face reddened. “I, uh. God, no.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “I mean, not like that. I—”

  “Whatever. I’m going to be late.” I spun away.

  “It’s just your shirt…”

  Yeah, yeah. My shirt. Even dressed professionally, it didn’t seem to hide the fact a body resided under it. Putting my hand on the heavy metal door, I shoved it open.

  He murmured another quiet curse then called out, “You lost a button or something.”

  Now that I hadn’t expected.

  I glanced down. Sure enough, my shirt had split open, revealing my bra and a bit of stomach.

  Dammit. The button was gone. Probably lying on the ground near Sexy Arms, but I couldn’t go back and look for it after making an ass out of myself. I shoved open the door and stepped onto the third floor. Gripping my shirt closed, I searched for a bathroom. Thankfully, one was nearby.

  With my head tucked down, I slipped inside then stood in front of a mirror to survey the damage. The midsection of my shirt was completely splayed open.

  This wasn’t happening. Not today.

  I dug through my purse as if a safety pin would magically appear. Considering my lack of preparation for basically everything, who knew why I thought I’d find one?

  Okay. Deep breath. I could figure this out.

  Maybe I could button around the missing one. It would be lopsided, but it’d be closed. Or I could just keep my hand there all day. Yeah, like that would work.

  With no other option, I rebuttoned my shirt, leaving the collar askew and one side hanging longer than the other. The final result: I looked like I got dressed in the dark…while drunk.
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  “Fuck!” I shouted in all my unladylike glory.

  There was a light tapping on the door.

  Geez, someone probably thought I was having a medical emergency. This was a hospital after all. I rolled my shoulders, took a deep breath then opened the door.

  Holy shit. It was Sexy Arms. Holding a shirt?

  “Um, I didn’t know if, you know, it was fixable and you said you were going to be late, so I figured it was important. Here.” He shoved a white T-shirt in my direction. “It will be huge on you but it’s in one piece and it’s the least I can do after almost taking you out, and disrobing you.”

  Then he grinned and, holy fuck, it was hot.

  When I didn’t respond, his smile slowly faded. “You don’t have—”

  “Where did you get a T-shirt?” I blurted.

  His face reddened again. “It’s actually my undershirt. Which is why it’ll be huge, but I just couldn’t not help since it’s my fau—”

  I yanked the shirt from his hand. “Thanks.” I spun to change but paused, catching the door before it slipped shut. “You know you’ll probably never see this shirt again.”

  He smiled. “It’s okay. Keep it.”

  I shrugged. “Okay.” I let the door close, pulled off my shirt and replaced it with his. And he’d been right. It was huge.

  I tucked as much as I could into my dress pants and rolled the sleeves. In the end, it still looked better than my cockeyed shirt had. But far from good. Whatever. I checked the time, shoved the button-down into my purse and rushed out of the bathroom, slightly disappointed to see Sexy Arms had vanished, then raced down the hall to Conference Room A.

  A slender woman greeted me. “You must be Fallon Carr.”

  Clearly she’d figured out who I was by elimination. Everyone else had arrived, and was seated like good little interns. Shit.

  With a smile, I nodded. “Yes. Sorry I’m late.”

  She glanced at a clock. “Looks like you’re on time to me.”

  And for the love of all things holy, the clock on the wall was a few minutes slow. It was the first thing to go right for me since stepping into the hospital today.

  “Take a seat. We’ll begin shortly.” The lady gestured to a chair then leaned over a laptop. The screen behind her lit up with a graphic from her presentation.

  I walked down the aisle and planted myself in the first open chair, embarrassed to stand too long while wearing my new shirt.

  “Okay then.” The lady walked around to the front of a table and leaned against it, semi-sitting. “First off, I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Victoria Aguirre. This is my eighth year working as a Child Life specialist and my third year heading up the internship program.

  “I’m pleased to announce that this year we have a Child Life aide position opening up in August. This internship is, foremost, a learning experience, but that being said, your desire to learn, your work ethic and the relationships you build will help determine if you’d make a good member of our team.” She smiled. “We’re big proponents of hiring from within. Which means we’d love to place one of you into this position.”

  A paid position? That job would top waitressing or working at the campus bookstore any day.

  “Any questions so far?” Her sleek black ponytail swished as her gaze panned the room. “Okay then, let’s begin. Please stop me if you have questions or need clarification.”

  As she spoke, I glanced around at the other people in the room. We totaled three girls and two guys. And something told me they wanted this as badly as I did. Gazes glued to Victoria, bodies leaned in, slight smiles creasing their mouths. Heck, we’d all probably salivated the second she said they’d hire an aide. Well, everyone except the guy slouching in the farthest corner, spinning his pen over his fingers like a drumstick. No competition there. He’d probably shoot himself in the foot before the end of this six-week internship.

  The other male in the room looked a bit cutthroat, shoulders squared, I-got-this smile affixed to his lips. An overachiever. Someone who wanted to win just for the sake of winning. His female counterpart sat to my left. I’d noticed her the moment I walked in. Her dark blond hair was pulled into a high ponytail. Her makeup perfect, outfit crisp, nails polished, everything in place as she diligently took notes. I hated girls like her.

  Which only left one more competitor. I glanced over my shoulder and spotted her, head tucked down. Dark hair hanging over most of her face. Maybe after the presentation, I’d get a better look.

  I rotated my head forward and caught a whiff of an intoxicating smell.

  Oh my God. Was it the shirt? How had I not noticed before? I’d been in such a hurry, I must have turned off my senses but now that they were back on, holy hell, it smelled delicious.

  I ran my hand through my hair, and casually tugged the collar up. With a tilt of my chin, I sniffed the shirt. It was a clean scent, sweet with a spicy undertone and just a hint of something else. My skin prickled on the back of my neck. Whoa. That was sexy.

  Images of those nice arms, leading to what was probably one hell of a chest, wearing this shirt and smelling like this panty-dropping cologne combined with…what was that? Hot-guy musk? The guys I hooked up with tended to smell like beer or cigarettes, or a delightful combination. But this was incredible. The college me would’ve hunted him down after this presentation and shown him how you really disrobe someone in the stairwell. Regardless, he wasn’t getting this shirt back.

  Victoria led into her Q&A session, while I tried to pay attention instead of having imaginary, yet vivid, sex with hot guy on the stairs. Back pressed into the cold wall while his hot body pushed flush against me. His arms would pin me in place, one slammed against the wall by my head, the other gripping my thigh as he wrapped my leg around him. And his mouth. It looked like the kind that could do magical things. Very magical.

  Tried, but failed.

  Was it really hot in here? Weren’t hospitals usually kept freakishly cold? I straightened in my chair, trying to lift my head away from the fantasy-inducing aroma of the shirt.

  Victoria handed me a packet, fully snapping my attention back to her.

  “This packet contains everything from the PowerPoint. The last page has my contact info. You are always welcome to send me an email.” She clasped her hands together. “Well, that’s the end of my spiel. Now, please feel free to hang out for a bit. You will be working together for the next six weeks, so introduce yourself, and get to know one another.”

  Though introductions were a tad on the awkward side, it still only took me ten minutes to assess my fellow interns. Turned out my initial assumptions were pretty dead-on. Lindsey—painfully shy and probably my closest ally. Tyler—fell ass-backward into this internship, probably didn’t really deserve it but would pull ahead because that’s how life worked for him. And the final two, Claudia and Blake. It was safe to assume they were still riding high from the moment they reigned supreme as king and queen of the prom or some shit like that. They were flawless. Life handed them things because beauty deserved perfection, right? But I didn’t do perfect.

  Though Mr. Sexy Arms had been pretty damn near perfect. And I’d totally do him.

  Except, of course, I was leaving that girl behind.

  Chapter 2

  The parking at my new apartment complex was always a nightmare. It was impossible to get a place remotely near my building, but being that today was not really going my way, it was no surprise that I landed the most craptastic spot next to the Dumpster. And the sweltering Central Texas summer only accentuated the horribleness.

  I grabbed my purse and hurried past the large metal box of rotting trash. When I hit the sidewalk, I exhaled and headed toward building seven.

  “Hey.” A male voice stopped me.

  I glanced around and saw a familiar face. One who had apparently benefited from tequila consumption. We’d hooked up two weeks ago after a night of drinking, but his name escaped me. The unremarkable sex hadn’t helped. I chose to forget
most guys. He was no different.

  I smiled and waved. “Hey.” Vague memories from the night we hooked up surfaced. I really needed to stop carrying flasks and stick to the free beer at frat parties. Tequila made all my bad decisions seem brilliant. And if memory served, I might have given this guy some sort of drunken lap dance.

  “You live here?” He raised an eyebrow and gestured to the nearest building.

  It didn’t go unnoticed that he hadn’t used my name either. Guess I wasn’t the only one who found our night together mediocre.

  I nodded. “Yeah. My roommate and I just moved in a week ago.”

  “Oh.” His face brightened; no doubt his mind had wandered to a built-in fuckbuddy situation. “Cool. Which building?”

  “That one.” I pointed in the general direction of building seven. “Well, I have to run, but nice seeing you.”

  “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

  I groaned internally. “See ya.”

  He remained rooted in place as I walked away, so I slipped between buildings five and six, deciding to hit my apartment from the other side, just in case he had any plans of accidentally bumping into me again.

  As I made my way to my apartment, my phone rang.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hey, Fallon.” Dad used his serious voice, causing me to pause. “So, we got your grades in.”

  “They send those to you?” I cringed. Way to be obvious.

  “They send the bill here, might as well send the grades too, don’t you think?”

  Stupid. “Yeah. Of course. That’s not how I meant it. I just didn’t know…”

  “That I’d see you’re on the brink of academic probation.”

  Fuck. “Yeah.”

  “What’s going on, Fallon?” He still wasn’t being his usual lighthearted self but his tone was now laced with true concern and genuine worry. “You didn’t work hard in high school to blow it in college. You’re better than these grades. Is there anything you want to talk about?”