Call Me Wild Read online

“Look at Ben and Gina. They’ve been married over a year, and they’re still acting like horny teenagers.” Fisher didn’t know whether to be jealous or appalled—they both felt wrong. Almost as wrong as the thought of taking a knitting class.

  ***

  “It’s all Andrew’s fault that I’m in Boise in the first place.” Jessie looked up from her beer to the bartender at Humpin’ Hannah’s. “What did you say your name was again?”

  “Karma,” she said as she built a Guinness for a man six stools down named Dick.

  He must have been a loyal customer if his Humpin’ Hannah’s golf shirt and the time Karma took building his Guinness was anything to go by. When she finally finished the pour, she slid the full mug down the bar.

  Jessie watched the beer slow and stop right before hitting Dick’s open hand without even sloshing over the side. “Impressive. How long did it take you to perfect that?”

  “A few years.” Karma gave a nonchalant shrug before folding her arms, resting them on the bar, and leaning in. “So, about your best friend, Andrew. What kind of friend is he?”

  “What do you mean?” Jessie stared into Karma’s deep green eyes. They were somehow familiar, but she didn’t know why. She’d never seen Karma before this afternoon when she ducked into the bar after exploring downtown Boise.

  “Is he just a friend, friend? A bed buddy? A frenemy? An ex? Girl, there are all kinds of”—she held up two fingers of each hand to form quotation marks—“‘friends,’ if you know what I’m sayin’.”

  “Oh, no. Andrew’s more like a brother from a different mother. But then I really wouldn’t know since I’m an only child.”

  “Must be nice.”

  Jessie shrugged, wondering if Karma was serious or not. “Andrew and I met at college orientation. We were both English majors, so we had all the same classes. One night, after way too many of these”—Jessie held up her beer and took another sip—“we talked about dating, but we were such good friends, we decided not to take the chance of ruining a perfect relationship.”

  Karma gave her the all-knowing-bartender with a twist of Jujitsu-grand-master nod. “Ah, so there’s no sexual chemistry, huh?”

  Confused, Jessie could do nothing other than shrug. Karma’s eyes penetrated hers as if she could see far more than she let on. “I don’t know. Like I said, we never tested the waters.” When Karma threw her blonde head back and guffawed, Jessie’s face heated. Every customer stopped what they were doing and stared.

  “Jessie, there’s a whole lot you don’t know about chemistry. If it’s there, nothing in the world would have made you think about not testin’ those waters. Strong chemistry gives you no choice in the matter. One minute you’re talkin’, and the next you’re exploring the other person’s tonsils and rubbin’ up against the bulge in his Wranglers. Thinking is not required.”

  “Right, like I believe that.”

  “Honey, if you don’t, you’re a fool. But that’s neither here nor there. So you were on the phone with your friend. Andrew, is it? Is he good-looking?”

  “I don’t know. I never thought about it. He’s about six one, dark brown hair—almost black. Brown eyes. He’s smart and funny.”

  Karma licked her lips and looked as if she were imagining the “Can’t Say No” sundae at Serendipity 3—Jessie’s favorite place to binge in New York. Karma must have had a very good imagination. “Good body?”

  Jessie pictured Andrew in her mind’s eye. His face was clear, but his body was a bit fuzzy. “I guess. I never really paid much attention.”

  “Yep, like I said—no sexual chemistry.” Karma walked her fingers across the bar and took the beer Jessie had all but finished without noticing. Karma grabbed a chilled mug out of the cooler. Without even looking, she hit the right tap and waited, her eyes never leaving Jessie’s. “Moving on.”

  Talking to Karma was like trying to watch a TV show while someone flipped channels. “While I was on the phone with Andrew, I dug through my work email and opened up a pink slip—”

  “You got fired? From where?”

  “I wasn’t fired. I was laid off.”

  “Sorry.” Karma looked anything but.

  Jessie told herself that the newspaper business was shrinking, and she was the lowest female on an all-male totem pole. Getting laid off shouldn’t have been a shock. “I was a sports reporter for the Times. Andrew talked me out of jumping out the window—which, when you consider my fear of heights and the fact that none of the windows were even operable, greatly diminishes any heroism on his part. He urged me to sublet my apartment and move into his house here in Boise. I can stay as long as I want, rent-free, on one condition—”

  Karma slid the beer to her. “What’s that? Does it have anything to do with testing those waters we talked about?”

  “No.” God, what was it with people in Boise? They serve you a drink and expect information about your sex life? Or in her case, the lack there of. It had been so long since she’d had sex, she wouldn’t be surprised if her hymen had regenerated.

  “Touchy subject, huh?” Karma wiped down the spotless bar. “Interesting.”

  “Not touchy, really. I’m just not used to talking about who I sleep with.”

  “No gal pals then?” Karma leaned forward and smirked. “I guess I’d better tell you, just in case you don’t know. Testing the waters rarely involves sleep—unless you test them and it’s so good you decide to wake up together and try it again to make sure it isn’t a fluke.”

  Silence descended, well, as much silence as you could get at a bar as big as Hannah’s on a Thursday afternoon. Jessie figured it was time for a change of subject. She cleared her throat. “Um… about the whole gal pal thing. You see, all my friends are guys I play basketball or softball with, or professional athletes. You’re different from any woman I’ve ever met, Karma. Talking to you is like talking to a nosy guy with boobs.”

  Karma spun around, taking the order off a waitress’s tray and pouring drinks. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She shook a martini, strained it into a glass as she twitched her nose, and then smiled. “It’s probably because I have three brothers and a cousin who thinks he’s my big brother—well, until he asked me to marry him that one time. Thank God he found someone else to drag down the aisle.” She feigned a shiver. “But that’s a whole other story—you see, historically, the women in my family have been grossly outnumbered by men. But don’t worry, I’m working on correcting that.”

  Jessie took a much-needed sip of her beer, trying to figure out how Karma could almost marry a cousin. Wasn’t that illegal? Then again, maybe they were second cousins, or maybe she misheard. Since Karma was now the only friend Jessie had in Boise, she really didn’t want to know if Karma was weird. Right now, she needed a friend. “Where was I?”

  “The condition.”

  “Oh, yeah. Andrew dared me to write the book I’ve talked about since we were students at Columbia.” She should have known Andrew wouldn’t just be a nice guy and give her time to lick her wounds in private. “It’s so unfair because he knows I can’t resist a dare. So here I am. I just applied for a job at Starbucks, and I’m going to write a novel.”

  “What kind of novel?”

  Jessie looked to make sure no one was within earshot. “You promise not to tell anyone?”

  “What’s it matter? I’m the only person in Boise you know.”

  “That’s not true. There’s my stalker.”

  Karma’s eyes went wide. “Man, you work fast. You’ve been here less than a week, and you already have a stalker?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been wondering about it for the past few days. Every morning the same guy runs with me—uninvited, he shows up at Starbucks without fail, and twice now, I’ve run into him at the grocery store. The last time, I spotted him first and ducked down the feminine hygiene aisle just to avoid him. He turns up everywhere I go. It’s weird.”

  Karma bent over the sink and washed out the beer mugs and glasses. “What’s he look
like? Is he a creeper?”

  “No. He’s actually gorgeous. It’s as if the sun is always shining on him, you know? Everyone I meet thinks he’s God’s gift to the female population. When he asked me out and I turned him down, one of the baristas at Starbucks questioned both my sexuality and my vision. It’s as if wherever he goes he has a fan club. I know Boise’s a lot smaller than New York, but running into him three times a day is ridiculous.” She sipped her beer and tossed a pretzel into her mouth. “If he’s not a stalker, the man missed his calling.”

  Karma shrugged and wiped down the first in a long line of liquor bottles. “I don’t know how it is in New York, but we don’t get many stalkers who are highly thought of here in Boise. Maybe the two of you just have a lot in common. You could share a circadian rhythm or something. Stranger things have happened.” She plucked up another bottle and continued wiping. “Still, three times in one day is a bit of a stretch even for Boise. But hey, look at the bright side. A hot stalker is better than an ugly one. And if you’re not interested in him, you know you can introduce him to your BFF.”

  “Why would I introduce him to Andrew? Andrew’s not gay, and I can assure you this guy Fisher isn’t either. The man’s got more testosterone than the entire Giants’ defensive line put together. He could bottle it and have enough to supply the eastern seaboard.”

  Karma stopped wiping down the bottle of Macallan 18 and stared at Jessie. “Your stalker’s name is Fisher?”

  “That’s right.” She tipped her beer mug up, foam clinging to her upper lip. “Fisher. My hot stalker.”

  “You’re kidding.” Karma slipped on her poker face—it almost killed her, but she didn’t want Jessie to know that her stalker could very well be Karma’s big brother—not that Fisher was a stalker or anything. He just had very precise habits, and so, it seemed, did Jessie. This was just too funny, not to mention perfect. “What’s he look like?”

  Was it horrible that Karma wanted to make her big brother squirm a little? Uh-huh, probably. What could she say? She was way more naughty than nice, and so far, it had worked for her. She wasn’t about to change her tactics now, especially since she was having so much fun. How else could a girl with three older brothers survive if not by blackmail?

  Jessie leaned forward. “He has the most amazing curly, white-blond hair, and the prettiest green eyes I’ve ever seen on a man.”

  Bingo. Karma’s mind spun with all the ways she could use this information to her advantage—the possibilities were endless. Outside she played the perfect bartender, while inside she was doing the Snoopy “Happy Dance.” Her brother was the only blond man named Fisher Karma knew in Boise, and her position at Hannah’s insured she knew almost every single man over the age of twenty-one in Ada County. She was positive Jessie’s stalker was none other than her big brother, Dr. Fisher Kincaid. And, from the dreamy look on Jessie’s face, Karma could almost guarantee that Jessie and Fisher had enough chemistry to fuel the Idaho National Lab’s Advanced Test Reactor. The girl couldn’t describe her best friend, but she was having absolutely no problem describing Fisher, who she’d only seen a few times.

  Jessie stared into Karma’s eyes, and for a second Karma wondered if Jessie, smart girl that she was, had put two and two together. Looks-wise, Karma was the female version of Fisher, well, except her blonde was more dishwater than platinum. Leave it to the man to get the killer platinum blond hair. Sometimes life was just too unfair, although with this information, Karma could definitely tip the scales in her favor.

  Jessie shook her head as if she was silently talking herself out of something. “Fisher’s eyes are almost the same color as yours, but his have a circle of blue around the pupil. He’s a few inches taller than me, I’d say about six two or six three, dresses like a preppy surfer, and is built like David Beckham. He has washboard abs and a lean, flat, well-muscled chest, and an ass worthy of a limerick.”

  Karma certainly didn’t want to talk about Fisher’s ass. She also saw no resemblance between Beckham and Fisher. Not that she compared their bodies or anything—that would have an exceptionally high ick factor. She made it a point never to check out her brothers or cousin. Yuck. Beckham was a god among men. Even though Fisher never had a shortage of women falling all over him, she couldn’t believe he and Beckham were even in the same league. It was clear that Jessie had either fallen under Fisher’s spell, or she was certifiable. “I love Beckham. That man can park his cleats under my bed any day.”

  “Tell me about it.” Jessie fanned her face. “Beckham’s even hotter in person than in the pictures.”

  Karma jumped up to sit on the cooler. “You know him?”

  Jessie shook her head. “I don’t know him, know him, but I’ve interviewed him a few times. One time he was in the locker room and only wore a towel. That man’s abs are a thing of beauty.”

  “Talk about a job with perks. You get to interview half-naked professional athletes.” She poured Jessie another beer and slid it over. “I’ll clear your tab if you can produce pictures of Beckham in a towel or less.”

  “No problem.” Jessie tugged an iPhone out of her pocket and scrolled through pictures. “Here’s one with me and Beckham without his shirt on. His ink is amazing.”

  Karma ripped the phone from Jessie’s grasp. “The hell with his ink, look at that body. Holy moly, batgirl! Wow, you got to touch my dream man. Who wouldn’t want to be you? So this Fisher dude has as a body like Beckham, and you shot him down? What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. I’m not here to date; I’m here to write. Besides, that guy Fisher flirted with anyone missing a Y chromosome. Plus, he didn’t strike me as the strongest brew in the coffeehouse, if you know what I mean. When I wouldn’t go out with him, he just smiled. He’s either thick or mentally challenged.”

  Karma had just taken a sip of club soda—thank God she swallowed, or it would have shot straight up her nose. She should be writing this stuff down. After all, her job as a younger sister was to stick pins in Fisher’s overinflated ego, not to pump it up. “A mentally challenged stalker. How… interesting. Now back to your story. If you’re here to write a book, why is it such a big secret?”

  “It’s not a secret. It’s just embarrassing. I’m a trained journalist with a degree from the best journalism school in the country. Now, if I’m lucky enough to get the job I just applied for, I’ll be pouring coffee and writing a trashy romance.”

  “You’re a romance writer? I love romance, and I’ve been reading it for years. Hell, I even hooked my cousin Ben’s wife, Gina, and Toni, my new sister-in-law, on romance after swearing them to secrecy.” She leaned closer. “If one word of my addiction got to my brothers or cousin, my hard-won position as an almost equal in their eyes would disappear faster than a vegetarian at the Rocky Mountain Oyster Feed.”

  Jessie took a swig of her beer. “I’d always planned to write literary fiction, but after looking at my severance package and my bank balance, if I have any hope of surviving, I’m going to have to get published pretty darn quick. I can’t afford to spend a year writing a masterpiece. I’ll spend six weeks writing a romance and turn around and sell it before my bank account hits the danger zone.”

  “You think you can write a book in six weeks and sell it? Who do you think you are? Nora Roberts?”

  Jessie waved Karma’s objections away. “Everyone knows that the easiest way for a debut author to break into publishing is to write a trashy romance. I’m a successful journalist. I should be able to do it with one hand tied behind my back.”

  “Jessie, when was the last time you read a romance?”

  “Me?” She looked as if Karma just asked her what her favorite sexual position was. “Never.”

  “Have you done any research? I don’t think publishing a book, even a romance, is that easy. There’s a romance writer in Boise who comes in here every now and again. She once told me it takes the average romance writer seven books and ten years before getting published. And that’s the average. For a lo
t of writers, it takes even longer.”

  Jessie drank the rest of her beer, reached into the bag she carried, and slid a romance face down across the bar, doing her best to hide the cover. “I’m doing research. I bought a dozen best-selling romances, and I’m going to read them even if it kills me. Honestly Karma, there’s nothing like flashing a book with a bare-chested man on the cover to make a woman’s perceived IQ drop a dozen points.”

  Karma just smiled.

  Jessie tossed down a handful of bills. “I guess I’ll go home and work on research. Say, do you know of any tennis courts with walls for practice?”

  Karma took the bills and stuffed them back in Jessie’s hand. “You showed me a picture of Beckham without a shirt, so we’re square. I play tennis at Ann Morrison Park. How ’bout we meet to hit some balls tomorrow morning. Say about ten? That way we can discuss your research, and you can tell me what you think of this book.” Karma flipped over the book and sighed when she caught a glimpse of the cover model. “It’s on my TBR pile.”

  “What the heck is a TBR pile?”

  Karma shook her head. “To Be Read pile. You might want to pick up a copy of RT Book Reviews too. It will give you a good picture of the romance core demographic as well as all the different subgenres.”

  “Tennis tomorrow for sure.” Jessie pulled a card out of her wallet. “Here’s my number if you need to cancel.”

  Karma wrote her cell number on a bar napkin. “Here’s mine. I’ll see you at ten.”

  Jessie shouldered her bag. “I’m hoping that all the exercise will counteract the depressing state of my life.”

  Oh yeah, Jessie was in for a shock. Reading a good romance will take her down a few pegs, not that Karma could really hold her attitude against her. Ten years ago Karma wouldn’t have been caught dead reading a romance in public, and now the only thing keeping her from coming out of the romance closet was the fear of her brothers’ and cousin’s retribution. She couldn’t afford to be thought of as a girl—not when she’d almost reached equality. “I’m looking forward to hearing all about it tomorrow.”