Mister Sexy Pants

  Lauren Blakely

  Contents

  Also by Lauren Blakely

  About

  Mister Sexy Pants

  1. All the Little Sex Monkeys

  2. Man Dessert

  3. Other Words for Dating

  4. Name That Crush

  5. His First Appearance

  6. The Synonym Slinger

  Also by Lauren Blakely

  Contact

  Copyright © 2022 by Lauren Blakely

  Cover Design by Kate Farlow

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This contemporary romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This book is licensed for your personal use only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, especially if you enjoy sexy romance novels with alpha males. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Also by Lauren Blakely

  Big Rock Series

  Big Rock

  Mister O

  Well Hung

  Full Package

  Joy Ride

  Hard Wood

  * * *

  Happy Endings Series

  Come Again

  Shut Up and Kiss Me

  Kismet

  My Single-Versary

  * * *

  Ballers And Babes

  Most Valuable Playboy

  Most Likely to Score

  A Wild Card Kiss

  * * *

  Rules of Love Series

  The Virgin Rule Book

  The Virgin Game Plan

  The Virgin Replay

  The Virgin Scorecard

  * * *

  Hopelessly Bromantic Duet (MM)

  Hopelessly Bromantic

  Here Comes My Man

  * * *

  Men of Summer Series

  Scoring With Him

  Winning With Him

  All In With Him

  * * *

  The Guys Who Got Away Series

  Dear Sexy Ex-Boyfriend

  The What If Guy

  Thanks for Last Night

  The Dream Guy Next Door

  * * *

  The Gift Series

  The Engagement Gift

  The Virgin Gift

  The Decadent Gift

  * * *

  The Extravagant Series

  One Night Only

  One Exquisite Touch

  My One-Week Husband

  * * *

  MM Standalone Novels

  A Guy Walks Into My Bar

  One Time Only

  The Bromance Zone

  The Best Men (Co-written with Sarina Bowen)

  * * *

  The Heartbreakers Series

  Once Upon a Real Good Time

  Once Upon a Sure Thing

  Once Upon a Wild Fling

  * * *

  Boyfriend Material

  Asking For a Friend

  Sex and Other Shiny Objects

  One Night Stand-In

  * * *

  Lucky In Love Series

  Best Laid Plans

  The Feel Good Factor

  Nobody Does It Better

  Unzipped

  * * *

  Always Satisfied Series

  Satisfaction Guaranteed

  Instant Gratification

  Overnight Service

  Never Have I Ever

  PS It’s Always Been You

  Special Delivery

  * * *

  The Sexy Suit Series

  Lucky Suit

  Birthday Suit

  * * *

  From Paris With Love

  Wanderlust

  Part-Time Lover

  * * *

  One Love Series

  The Sexy One

  The Only One

  The Hot One

  The Knocked Up Plan

  Come As You Are

  * * *

  Standalones

  Stud Finder

  The V Card

  The Real Deal

  Unbreak My Heart

  The Break-Up Album

  * * *

  The Caught Up in Love Series

  The Pretending Plot

  The Dating Proposal

  The Second Chance Plan

  The Private Rehearsal

  * * *

  Seductive Nights Series

  Night After Night

  After This Night

  One More Night

  A Wildly Seductive Night

  About

  Note to self: When meeting a hot, flirty guy be sure to, ya know, get his name.

  It might be helpful if you want to see the guy again.

  Or, maybe try writing an anonymous s-e-x column about him and see if that gets his attention, starting it like this…

  Hello, Mister Sexy Pants. Let me tell you about my fantasies.

  Mister Sexy Pants

  A Dating Games Prequel

  By Lauren Blakely

  * * *

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  1

  All the Little Sex Monkeys

  Veronica

  * * *

  Have you ever wanted something so badly that it takes you completely by surprise?

  Your desire starts like a low hum, turns into a sweet tingle, then . . . blastoff. It rockets into an intense, naked longing.

  I’ve gotten that feeling with books, with dogs, and definitely with sandwiches. But I didn’t expect to feel this way about five hundred weekly words, but now that the opportunity to write a dating column dangles in front of me, I’ve got to grab this carrot no matter what.

  That’s where my head is at now as I prep for a secret side hustle meeting. I want to nail every aspect of this job interview, right down to the look.

  I zip up my dress. Smoothing a hand along my waist, I consider my reflection in the mirror on the closet door in my bedroom.

  My cat eyes me with imperious suspicion from one of the pillows on my bed.

  I think I look smashing, but a woman cannot dress on her opinion alone. That’s why my sister is here. I spin around, skirt twirling, and put the question to Hazel, who is sitting on the edge of the bed with my tiny dog curled up in her lap.

  “What do you think? Is this what you’d wear to an interview to become a sex columnist?”

  I could ask Google, but I’m scared to hear the Internet’s thoughts on this fashion quandary.

  Hazel screws up the corner of her lips giving me a long once-over, then renders her ruling: “You look like you have a secret.”

  I smile coyly. “So it’s perfect, then, for an anonymous column,” I say with a little jut of the hip.

  “Come to think of it, yes,” she says with a smile.

  “Hey! That’s a good one.” I scurry out to the kitchen, grab a notebook from the table, and jot “Come to think of it” on a list of Top Five Awesome Column Titles.

  I snap the notebook closed, then snag my purse. Before I take off, I kiss my pets goodbye, and I head out, Hazel following me.

  When we reach the sidewalk, my sister gives me a hug. “You’ll be great. There’s no one more qualified for this gig than you.”

  “Maybe this is why I’ve been waiting for twenty-six years. I’ve been holding out for an online column,” I say playfully.

  “I mean, it’s not a bad reason to wait,” she says drily as we let go.

  Then we say goodbye, and I turn toward Hudson Street. As the spring sun dips in the sky, I review my original pitch for the online site The Dating Pool—what about a sex and dating column written from the point of view of a virgin?

  The column only requires a few hours a week, and though I definitely don’t want to leave my job as a children’s book editor, I do love talking about sex, writing about sex, and thinking about it.

  I’m sure I’d like sex, if I ever had it.

  But if I can nab this project, I’ll have an outlet at last for all the little sex monkeys rattling their cages in my head.

  Watch out, Dating Pool. Here comes one opinionated, battery-operated-boyfriend-loving virgin who believes a dirty mind’s a terrible thing to waste.

  When I reach The Dating Pool’s office, I st
op and stare up at the building, taking in the sleek facade. In a moment ripped from a rom-com, I’m that woman stepping into the big, wide world of New York media. Only, I’ve grown up in and around this city. I love New York, and New York loves me.

  Chin up, lipstick on, I head inside. The elevator shoots me up to the fifth floor, where the helpful receptionist escorts me to Bellamy Hart’s office.

  She’s a romance goddess, and her podcast is an absolute must-listen. She’s also a total badass boss babe and she looks the part in her designer jeans, spiky boots, and black twinset.

  “Thank you for coming in at the last minute,” she says as she holds the door open to her office.

  “Thank you for asking me here,” I say, already a little giddy. She replied to my email ten minutes after I sent it last night. I might very well frame her note. I must hear more! Do not take your idea elsewhere.

  Well then, here I am.

  We sit on her green couch, and she waggles her tablet. “First of all, let me say your column ideas completely grabbed me. I agree that columns of dating lists, dating dos and don’ts, and dating rules are so overdone,” she says with a sigh. “But your takes sound fresh.”

  I sit straighter and fight off a smile—I won’t crack open the champagne yet. “It’s a good thing I’ve been storing them up from a few years on the New York dating market, aka the alligator pit. And I can tackle them in a way that appeals to all your readers—with a little humor,” I say.

  I elaborate on my ideas: Ten Things People Assume About Virgins, Sex Tips from Those Who Haven’t, How to Break the News to Your Date, Wear Whatever You Want, and Other Things You Could Be Doing Tonight. “I see it as the dating misadventures of a virgin with a naughty mind.”

  Bellamy sighs deeply, then smiles. “I can see the clicks going up, up, up. When can you start?”

  My heart bounces. “I can send you my first column this week.”

  I, Veronica Valentine, children’s book editor by day, am about to become an anonymous sexpert by night.

  2

  Man Dessert

  Veronica

  * * *

  This kind of opportunity calls for a celebration.

  Since my sister’s on deadline with her next novel, I text my friend Ellie and ask if she has time to meet me for a slice of cake.

  * * *

  Ellie: We have an evening shoot, and I’m due on set in forty-five minutes, but I can meet you for ten of them, and I promise to make it the best ten minutes of your day.

  * * *

  Veronica: I don’t know about that, honey. The ten minutes I spent with The Flyer this morning were pretty damn good. But time with you is always a treat too.

  * * *

  Ellie: As if I’d try to compete with The Flyer. No mere mortal, man or woman, ever could.

  * * *

  Veronica: I suspect that’s entirely true. See you at Peace of Cake.

  I walk to my favorite cake shop in the city, stopping at the gleaming white storefront in Chelsea. A selection of mouth-watering delights beckons me from the lavish window display—luscious chocolate slices, delicate pink frosting on sponge cake, festive mint green slathered over vanilla.

  This is heaven.

  I push open the door, hunting for my friend in the empty shop, which closes in thirty minutes. I don’t see Ellie, but I find an absolutely stunning piece of dessert behind the counter.

  Man dessert.

  I’m gonna need a minute to gawk.

  Hello, hottie. With a trim beard, strong jaw, and inked arms, the man arranging cakes in the display case belongs on the cover of one of my sister’s romance novels.

  I’ll buy a dozen copies, thank you very much.

  The man turns my way and flashes me a smile that zings straight down my body. Make that two-dozen copies.

  I smile back, and as I head to the counter, my phone pings with a new text from my friend.

  * * *

  Ellie: Running late. Please forgive me. If you must start without me, I understand. Cake is just too hard to resist.

  * * *

  But cake isn’t the thing I’m going to have a hard time resisting.

  Staring is.

  At the counter, I meet the gaze of the blue-eyed man with a winning smile. “What can I do for you?” he asks. “We’ve got cake if that’s what you’re in the market for. But if you’re looking for the meaning of the universe, I make no promises.”

  That’s a hell of an opening line, and it makes me laugh. It also challenges me to come up with something that matches the promise of him. “Are you fending off that many requests for existential answers?”

  “I am. But the slogan says it all.” He points to the words on his apron. Cake Is Proof.

  “That makes perfect sense.” I meet his playful gaze with one of my own. “Cake is, indeed, proof there is meaning in my universe.”

  “What a wonderful universe,” he says with a spark that makes me want to keep playing word ping-pong.

  “But I might have to add dogs and books to the evidence,” I say. “I hope you don’t mind the addendum.”

  He scoffs. “Do I look like the type of person who’s bothered by addendums?”

  I arch a brow, resisting a smile. “What does that type of person look like? I’m trying to draw a mental picture and I’m coming up blank.”

  “What would they look like?” He points his thumbs at his chest. “Not this guy. I think addendums are fantastic. Especially when they involve books, dogs, beer, and cake.”

  I’m giddy from the flirting. It’s almost too good to be true. “But see, I don’t think I’d include beer in my favorites. We’ll just have to agree on three out of four for our list.”

  “Fair enough,” he says. “I can work with a seventy-five percent match.”

  Match.

  I’m zipping inside. “So, what’s good here these days?” I ask, glancing toward the cake selection.

  “Is this your first time here?”

  “No way. I’m definitely not a Peace of Cake virgin,” I say, savoring the way the V-word rolls off my tongue like sugar—and what it does to him.

  His eyes darken. His nostrils flare. He takes a beat, then says, “Then you should have a little of everything. It’s our special today.”

  “Tempting. What does a little of everything taste like?” I ask, hoping no one else comes in the shop this evening. An unlikely scenario, since Peace of Cake is almost always deluged with last-minute customers before it closes. This sliver of time with Mister Flirt will end all too soon.

  “It tastes like what you should have.” The rasp of his voice thrums deliciously across all my erogenous zones, which, right now, include every single molecule in and on me. Then he exhales heavily, as if he’s recalibrating. Downshifting. “But I’d also recommend the vanilla celebration cake. It goes with polka dots,” he says, his gaze sailing up and down my dress.