Free April (Calendar Girl #4) by Audrey Carlan

finality.
    “Sweetheart, I’m not the type of girl you marry. I’m the type of girl you flirt with and fuck. Mason doesn’t want to settle for a girl like me. He wants to have what his Dad had. A wife, a home, children, the whole enchilada. You’d give him that and more. You’re the whole package. Not an escort who’s talented at waiting tables, can act, and rocks a man’s world in the bedroom. That last one I’m pretty proud of, but it isn’t going to secure me Mr. Right, just Mr. Right Now. I think you need to be open to more with Mason, especially since I’ll be out of your hair in two weeks.”
    This time when she responded, she pursed her lips and leaned into the table. “If you were me, how would you go about making a move? Especially after last weekend’s attempt was a complete and utter fail.”
    “Last week did suck a box of rocks.” I nodded.
    “It wasn’t the only thing that was sucked,” she quipped.
    My mouth dropped open in shock. “You made a sex joke!” I laughed.
    Her own eyes widened and her cheeks pinked up. “I did!”
    “There’s hope for you yet!” I exclaimed, and we both giggled. “Seriously though, Mason’s pretty easy.”
    “Isn’t that the truth?” Her retort came right on the heels of the last one and blew me away.
    I shook my head and covered my mouth. “Two in one night. Bust out the calendar, girl we need to mark this night off as the night Ms. Professional lost her poise and busted out her inner vixen!” 
    She looked over at the balcony then calmed down. “I want to know though. I don’t have a lot of experience with approaching men when I want to you know…” she trailed off.
    “Fuck?” I guessed.
    “God! No. Well, yeah, but date is what I meant. Jeez, you’re just like him. So crass.” Holy hell. Was she right? Was I just like Mason? Nah, she’s just overly prim and proper. At least, that’s what I told myself to get past the potential truth in her statement.
    Pushing my hair back into a twist and clipping it up with the claw I had dangling from the hem of my tank top, I cinched it into the bulk of the locks. “This is what you’re going to do. At the charity event this weekend, you’ll have a couple glasses of champagne to loosen up. You’ll flirt a little with him all night. Nothing impressive, you know, little touches here,” I slide my hand from the ball of her shoulder down to her elbow then pull back. “Maybe some hand clutching.” I clasped my hand with hers and proceeded to tug her to standing and walk around the living room. I’d stop, cock a hip, and bat my eyelashes at her then look away suddenly. “Make sure you give him some glances at your assets.”
    At the word “assets” Rachel’s lips pinched tight. “I don’t really have any assets.” She mumbled.
    I looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. “Girl, every woman has part of herself that attracts the opposite sex.” I looked her up and down. “You’ve got a serious set of legs. Wear something short. Get a nice push up bra and lift those girls and make sure a good glimpse of them is available in the dress you choose.” She nodded, so I continued. “Oh, and hair down. Remember how he mentioned he would like to see your hair down? Have it styled soft and in big curls to cascade down your back. If the dress has an open back, even better,” I waggled my eyes for emphasis.
    “Why?” she asked and I wanted to groan and smack her upside the head. Could she possibly be that naïve when it came to men? The woman was in her early twenties for crying out loud. She had to have some idea how a man thought.
    Instead of telling her all this, I just answer. “Because when men see open bare skin they think of sex. Thinking of sex and you in the same thought is a good thing when you want to ultimately bed Mace.”
    “I want to be with Mason, not just um, go to bed with him.”
    This time I couldn’t control the exasperated breath of air that left my lungs. “Men relate