Hex and the Single Girl Read Online Free PDF Page A

past, Emma still shivering, even with two coats on.
    Hoff said, “If you were going to mistake another man for me, you couldn’t have chosen a more impressive substitute.”
    “You know that guy?” she asked.
    He seemed surprised by her question. “You don’t?”
    He had looked familiar, but he’d been wet and unhinged. Plus, she’d been so embarrassed, she could barely look at him.
    “I’m not sure,” she said.
    Hoff said, “That was William Dearborn!”
    Oh, no. “That woman called him Liam.”
    “Short for William,” said Hoff. “He must have some kind of glandular problem. Sweating like that.”
    She groaned. “You think he got a good look at me?” she asked.
    Hoff laughed. “I’m sure the sight of you with a soaking wet dress plastered to your very female form is now and forever burned into his brain.”
    Shit. So much for anonymity. She’d have to use her most exotic disguises with him.
    Hoff hailed a cab, and they got in. He gave the driver her address and said, “So you really thought William Dearborn was me.”
    “I sure didn’t think he was him!” Dearborn was the very last man on Earth Emma wanted to be noticed by.
    “And you liked kissing him?” asked Hoff.
    “It was okay.” It was the best kiss she’d ever had.
    “So you’ll probably like kissing me,” said Hoff.
    Without waiting for the go-ahead, Hoff planted one on her, a squishy, gurgle kiss that made Emma think of Liquid Plumber unclogging the kitchen sink.
    She pushed him away—gently, with the strength of ten butterflies, not wanting to offend—and said, “I need another drink.”
    Chapter 4
    A s soon as they’d reached her apartment, Emma changed out of her wet dress. She put on a two-piece pajama set, tops and bottoms, navy blue fleece with a snowflake pattern. Not sexy stuff at all. Nonetheless, when she padded in her PJs into the living room, Hoff said, “Let me give you a backrub.”
    “Okay,” she said.
    Hoff started rubbing, massaging, kneading. The muscles in Emma’s back yielded. She softened. A sigh slipped from her lips.
    “Better than a drink, right?” he asked. She nodded. He was good. Emma wondered how many back rubs he’d given to seduce women before. Not just seduce. He could make a woman fall madly in love with him because of this. Emma wondered if it was wrong to fuck a man for his thumbs. Not that she would.
    Hoff’s hand slipped under her pajama top. Emma instantly tensed. Hoff felt her reaction, but he kept working his wonders, making her spine bend with relief.
    She said, “Do you believe that everyone has a special gift? A special ’power,’ if you will?”
    “Absolutely,” he said.
    “I think I know what yours is.”
    Hoff laughed. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
    He forged on, squeezing, pulling, hurting her the right way. Emma let herself float along, on a raft of relaxation, along a slow and winding river, pine trees on the bank like in Maine, the scent of clean air, the sound of running water.
    Emma was still on that raft when Hoff raised her arms to remove her pajama top. She stayed on it as he lay her down on the couch, belly up. He began massaging her again, turning his attention to her large floaters.
    Hoff was as good with the front rub as he was on the back. Better, even. He slipped off her pajama bottoms. And then nothing. Emma opened her eyes a crack and saw that he was undressing himself.
    He caught her looking and said, “Is this all right?”
    “So far so good,” she said. After that volcanic kiss at the restaurant and a float down the river thanks to Hoff’s magic fingers, Emma had high hopes. If she were ever going to have successful sex, it’d be tonight.
    He removed his clothes in a hurry. “You have a nice body,” she said. Hoff was medium weight, not very toned, but not flabby either. His bare chest was freckled and pale, his belly cutely rounded. The legs were sturdy. He left on his boxers, and she wished he’d take them off. She hadn’t seen a naked