Jenna

I'm an idiot! A total freaking idiot.

It took all of ten seconds in his presence to break my newest rule. Yeah, sure, I'll be able to look but not touch, easy.

Dammit, Jenna!

When Tanner came up behind me at the bar and whispered in my ear, his hot breath caressing my neck, I was screwed. I had to touch him. At least, that's what I told myself.

I just meant to let him down quick and easy. No flirtation necessary. Then, I heard the words spilling out of my mouth before I could stop them. I practically moaned his name and called him baby!

What the fuck!?

Way to let him down easy, Jenna! This will only make him try harder. And I don't know how much more I can take before I let him win. He doesn't act the way I expect a big-time playboy to act. He keeps turning down Jenna Davis, who is always a sure thing and has just ignored the fangirls who have been hanging over him at the bar every time he's there.

Maybe he's not so bad.

I shake my head and tamp down those thoughts quickly and try to focus on my inbox. I hope this week will help me get my mind out of the gutter. I don't have any meetings at the hockey arena, so maybe the distance will help me get myself back in check. Maybe.

My personal phone starts to ring, and I answer without looking at the caller id. "Hello?"

The person on the other end replies, "Hey there, stranger. How you been?"

I groan inwardly when I realize who it is on the line. Max freaking Beckham, lead sales rep for ProteinMania, and my lying, cheating, douchebag ex. What the hell does he want?

I try and fail to keep my tone professional. There's just something about him that instantly cranks my bitch-o-meter into full gear. It could be his smarmy tone or the fact that he thinks we're still on friendly terms, or I don't know, the fact that he's a giant fuck boy- take your pick. "I'm fine. What do you want, Max?"

My tone doesn't deter him in the slightest. In fact, the following words out of his mouth make me want to vomit. "Mmmm, straight to business, just the way I like it. I've missed you, Jen. We should have dinner and catch up sometime. You free tonight?"

Wow, seriously!? Yeah, okay, maybe when hell freezes over!

I swear my brain short-circuited. He can't be serious. The asshole actually thinks I'll have dinner with him!? He's fucking delusional! And he knows I hate that nickname. "Fuck off, Max!"

He laughs. The dickweed actually fucking laughs like he thinks this is some kind of game. "Damn, Jen, still sassy as hell. I miss that, especially in bed."

He did not just-

The fucking nerve of this guy! I take a moment to cringe, then start pulling myself together. "Goodbye, Max."

Just as I'm about to hang up, I hear him yell, "No, wait! I really do need to talk to you. It's work-related if that makes a difference."

Just hang up, Jenna, just hang up.

The professional in me won't leave something work-related out in limbo, though. "What is it?"

When he responds, I can hear the smugness in his voice. "Let's talk about it over dinner. How bout that nice Italian place you like on Waverly?"

Stupid prick! How gullible does he think I am!? "We can talk about it now over the phone, or not at all."

I hear him sigh in defeat on the other end of the line. "Okay, fine. I was wondering if I could get the contact info for the new player for the hockey team. My boss wants me to see if he'll get on board with us for our newest product."

Hah!

I can't believe he's actually asking me this. There's no way I'd share privileged information like that with anyone, least of all, him. "I'm not giving you private client information. If you want him to represent your brand, you'll have to do the leg work to get to him. I'm hanging up now."

"Mmmm, I love it when you play hard to get."

Jackass.

I roll my eyes. What the hell did I ever see in this guy?

Max continues, "If you change your mind about dinner, let me know. I'd love to see you and catch up."

Fat fucking chance, jerkoff!

I hang up and start massaging my temples. Well, if I needed a way to get my mind off Tanner, here it is. There's only one person on the Earth more frustrating than him, and that's Max and for entirely different reasons.

Now, thanks to him, I'm far too angry to think about anything but that selfish prick. Max broke my heart several months ago when I walked in on him railing his personal trainer. He's tried to get me back several times since then, saying he's changed, and I was the only one for him. He would try to smooth talk me back into his life and his bed, saying all the right things with none of the sincerity.

He would try to tempt me with flowers, gifts, and invitations to the best restaurants and entertainment New York City could provide. He even tried to buy his way back into my life by saying he booked a vacation for two to Cabo for two weeks. I declined his offer, but I know he didn't go on that vacation alone.

I'm so pissed that he thought I'd give up privileged client information to him just because he offered to take me out to dinner. There is no way I'd sacrifice my client relationships like that, especially for him. His boss is always trying to weasel his way into contracts with the team. And their products aren't even good. The protein bars are chalky, and their shakes taste like dirt. Don't even get me started on the reps that work for them!

They only convinced one guy from the team to contract with them so far- Russell, one of the Cobras' defensemen. He only contracted with Max because he didn't have any other brands sponsoring him at the time. Max has always wanted to score one of the 'star players' for his client list, though. He targeted Chase, Liam, Drew, Rob, and Damien for years, but they all hated the products and Max, so they wouldn't contract with ProteinMania. They hated him even more after what he did to me.

Now that there's a new hotshot on the team, Max is sniffing around again. I just hope Tanner is smart enough to see through Max's bullshit and doesn't sign a contract with him.

I try to calm myself down, but it's not easy. My interaction with Max has my blood boiling.

Why am I attracted to the most infuriating men? Seriously, guys like Max and Tanner. It's like my brain has some sort of glitch that only allows me to be romantically interested in assholes.

There's got to be a name for that, right? Some kind of syndrome? Maybe I'll come up with one. The JTRI syndrome- the Jenna Taylor Romantic Inclinations syndrome. Symptoms include only wanting to date/fuck jerks, not letting yourself choose the nice guy, continuously putting yourself in sexually tense situations with said jerks, and having a magnetic pull for said jerks that makes them think they can come back after breaking your heart to have another go at it.

I wonder if there's a support group out there for women like me. Or some kind of class- How to Stop Dating Douchebags 101.

Fuck it. I need to hit the gym. Work out this extra frustration.