Brash Read Free Page B

she’d been crazy for him.
    Then he’d taunted her, thrown down a challenge expecting her to back off like she had ten years ago, and something inside her had snapped.
    She was sick of being good all the time. Sick of being the small town girl who always did the right thing by everybody: her mom, her cousin, even her rat-bastard ex.
    Most of all, she was sick of how lost she felt. All the frikking time.
    Inadequate and mousy and frigid—three harsh accusations Max had thrown at her when she’d confronted him with her suspicions. He’d been lashing out, trying to assuage his guilt and blame her for his infidelity. She knew that, but it didn’t stop those words echoing through her head like an old warped vinyl.
    All it had taken was one word from Jack… sexy …and she’d known what she had to do.
    She had to get laid.
    By a guy so totally, mind-blowingly hot that he’d eradicate every nasty insinuation Max had ever made.
    Max may have uttered the hurtful words but deep down in a place she didn’t want to acknowledge, a small part of her believed him. Their sex life had been tolerable. Nice. Nothing like the sizzling erotica she read in secret on her e-reader and nothing like the scorching tales she’d heard backstage here since she’d been helping organize Zazz’s wedding.
    Her gaze drifted to the outfits strewn across Chantal’s desk and envy shot through her. No wonder the girls who worked here had hot sex. They knew what to wear, what to say and what to do to get noticed.
    They flaunted their sexuality while she hid behind sensible business suits and low-heeled pumps and a prim ponytail.
    “Whatever you’re thinking, I like it.” Chantal winked and pushed the scraps of satin and lace toward her. “These samples arrived today and I can always get more. You’re welcome to take your pick for playtime with Jack.”
    With part reluctance, part fascination, Jess picked up an ivory corset with garter attached, savoring the slide of satin between her fingertips.
    What would it be like to wear something this scandalous—to have Jack’s hands all over it—all over her?
    Then reality set in. Even if they got to that point—and by the evidence of how much he still wanted her fresh in her mind from a few hours earlier by her bold hand-on-his-thigh move—what if she screwed it up by her inadequacies?
    “Wish I could be like the Bombshells,” Jess said, replacing the corset on the desk and glancing at the framed pictures of the stunning dancers that graced the stage nightly.
    Chantal snapped her fingers. “You can be.”
    Jess didn’t like the maniacal gleam in her cousin’s assessing stare. “What do you mean?”
    “You’re not leaving ‘til the end of the week, right?”
    Jess nodded, her palms clammy at the thought of what she could potentially do with Jack on the island if she had the guts.
    “Well then, you’ve got three days to brush up on your seduction skills.” Chantal scooped the outfits off the desk and dumped them in her lap. “Spend some time with the girls in rehearsal. Watch. Listen. Learn. Practice.”
    Chantal wiggled her hips. “A little shimmy here. A little pole dancing there. You’ll have that poor guy falling at your feet.”
    Jess’s first reaction, an instant rebuttal, was quickly replaced by something else.
    A flicker of excitement. A genuine thrill that maybe, just maybe, her plan to seduce Jack and erase the regrets of the past had a chance.
    “That idea’s not half bad,” Jess said, knowing it would take more than a few dance moves and risqué lingerie to lend her the confidence to snare a guy like Jack. But what’s the worst that could happen? She empowered her inner vixen that had spent far too long cowering in a corner?
    Chantal whooped. “You go girl. Take whatever you need from wardrobe. Soak up the girls’ expertise. And give the guy a taste of hot island nights, Bombshell-style.”
    Jess wrinkled her nose as her cool wool blazer chafed the back of her neck and