Sex Becomes Her

by Regina Cole

  Books by Regina Cole

  Sex Becomes Her

  Sexy Living

  (coming soon)

  Sex Becomes Her

  REGINA COLE

  KENSINGTON BOOKS

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Also by

  Title Page

  Dedication

  My thanks goes to:

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  EPILOGUE

  Copyright Page

  For the man who is my everything. I love you, bean!

  My thanks goes to:

  Jodi and Gabe, my resident chemists, for their valuable help in this book.

  My fabulous agent, Nicole, for helping me develop this idea.

  My lovely editor, Peter, for helping me bring Eliza and Chandler to life.

  And to my family, for putting up with my deadline-brain.

  And most of all, to everyone who reads this book. Thank you for letting my stories entertain you.

  1

  The cart had a flat spot on one wheel, and the thump was driving Eliza insane. But there was no way she was going to take the time to go back to the front of the small grocery store and swap it out. She’d already seen three people she knew, and two of them had looked away almost instantly. After this much time it shouldn’t hurt, but it still did. Being a pariah in her hometown wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured living her life, but it was her reality now.

  Setting her jaw, Eliza moved through the produce section and checked her list. Spinach, cucumbers, tomatoes . . . If she shopped smart, she wouldn’t have to do this again for a month. Getting fresh veggies only once a month wasn’t ideal, but neither was living in a town that was convinced she was some kind of sexual deviant.

  Her ratty sneakers didn’t make a sound on the polished floor of the grocery store. The cart was half-full, and as she rounded the final corner toward the registers, her name smacked her in the back of the head like a mallet.

  “Eliza Jackson! Oh my God, it is you.”

  She winced, then turned. “Oh, hey, Marshall.” Eliza crossed her arms to cover the worst of the holes in her Green Day T-shirt. Part of the fun of being a chemist was ruined clothes when coworkers weren’t as careful with chemicals as they should be. “How are you?”

  Marshall looked her up and down, a somewhat leering smile on his face as he adjusted his grocery basket. “I’m doing great. You still at Quality Testing?”

  “Yeah. I’m lead chemist in the pharmaceutical division.” Eliza smiled politely, even though her insides were shaking. She wasn’t stupid. This wasn’t an old high school friend interested in catching up. This was something else entirely. “What about you?”

  “Eh, I’m at Eubank Financial. Anyway, I heard you dated Tyler Hagans for a while. He’s a buddy of mine.”

  Eliza’s hands tightened into fists, and her smile froze.

  Marshall continued, oblivious to her discomfort. “I have to say, I didn’t know you were gay.”

  Her teeth hurt as she clamped them together hard. Her words were muffled as she spoke without releasing the clench of her jaw. “I’m not gay.”

  Marshall’s laugh was mocking. “From what I heard, liking girls is the least weird thing about you. Anyway, you go do what you do. Have fun, but watch out. I’ve heard some of that kinky stuff you’re into is illegal.”

  With a wink, Marshall turned and walked away, leaving Eliza to stare after him in shock and hurt.

  When she could breathe without her chest feeling like it was cracking in half, Eliza turned and pushed her thumping grocery cart to the checkout line. But before she could start loading her items onto the conveyer belt, the cashier flipped off the lighted number 1 sign.

  “Sorry,” she said, giving Eliza a distrustful look. “This lane is closed.”

  Closing her eyes for a second, Eliza took a deep breath, then pulled her cart to the express lane, which was the only one left open. The red-shirted manager gave her a look, but started scanning her items anyway.

  “Thanks,” Eliza muttered as she accepted her change and receipt. The guy didn’t say anything, just gave her a tight-lipped smile before cheerfully greeting the customer behind her.

  Blasting her favorite band’s latest album all the way home didn’t help improve Eliza’s mood. It hurt, damn it, and she was tired of pretending it didn’t. By the time she made the left onto her street, her jaw ached and her eyes stung.

  She hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d just been honest about her fantasies, and when she and Tyler had broken up over it, he’d trumpeted her most secret desire to the world, complete with embellishments. It was the worst kind of betrayal, and even now, six months later, she wasn’t sure how to deal with the hurt. Other than to hide in her house and vow to spend the rest of her life as a celibate hermit, that is.

  Throwing the gearshift into Park, Eliza released her seat belt in the same motion. Silence fell over her like a blanket as she cut the engine. Her skull thumped back against the headrest and she blew out a breath. This was nothing new.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Eliza grunted as she shoved open the car door. The cool breeze hit her skin, raising goose bumps in its wake. Trudging across her lawn with her grocery bags dangling from her forearms, Eliza fumbled through her keys to find the one for her front door. She was so distracted that she almost tripped over the box on her front steps.

  “What the hell?”

  Bending low, she examined the label. It had come from North Carolina. Maybe it was Bree? A shot of excitement tore through her, and she trotted up the stairs and pushed through the front door in a matter of seconds.

  Dumping her bags and keys at the table by the door, Eliza turned and headed back to the stoop. Her blood pumped with anticipation as she carried the package through her messy house and straight to the kitchen table. Grabbing one of the knives from the butcher block on the counter, she grinned.

  “What have you sent me, Sabrina?”

  The sharp knife made quick, neat slices through the packing tape, then clattered to the table as Eliza abandoned it to pull open the cardboard flaps.

  “What in the world is this?”

  It was pink. Not just pink—pink was much too tame a name for this color. As Eliza withdrew the scraps of fabric from the box, dangling from their tiny strings, she decided that the only real name she could give that color was fuchsia. Or maybe magenta. Or maybe a color off the spectrum that hadn’t been named yet. She had to blink three times to ease the pain from the brightness. And it wasn’t just pink, it was a pink bikini.

  Digging through the rest of the box, which contained the other half of the magenta monstrosity, a bottle of sunscreen, and a tank top with some sparkly letters on it, Eliza finally came up with an envelope from the bottom of the box. Her name was written in Bree’s extra-swirly cursive.

  The paper crinkled as Eliza ripped open the envelope and unfolded the letter. A plane ticket fell out. Eliza barely glanced at it; she was already reading.

  Liza,

  I hope you like the little care package I sent you! If you’ve already read the tank top, you know that I’m asking you to be my bridesmaid. I know it’s kind
of presumptuous to buy your plane ticket without asking you first, but you’re always complaining that you never get to go anywhere, so here it is! I’m flying you out to Hawaii for our wedding, which is November 9th. You can stay the whole week, our treat! You’re such a good friend, Liza, please say you’ll come and be my bridesmaid.

  Love you bunches! Call me after you’re done reading so we can celebrate together!

  Bree

  When she realized that her tongue was actually drying out, Eliza closed her mouth and let the paper flutter to the tabletop.

  She’d known Bree was dating a guy, but she hadn’t known it was serious. And a wedding in Hawaii, only a month away? Eliza shook her head. Damn. Bree didn’t waste any time.

  After yanking open the refrigerator and taking a regenerating swig of apple juice, Eliza went down the hall to retrieve her cell phone. A mound of bags in front of the door jogged her memory. Oh yeah, the groceries. She should probably start putting those away.

  Tucking the phone in the crook of her shoulder, she hauled the bags to the kitchen.

  “Oh my God, Liza! Hey!”

  “Hey Bree, I got your little box of goodies.” Eliza winced at Bree’s delighted squeal, which went straight through her eardrum.

  “Ohmygod, isn’t it the best news ever? You can come, though, right?”

  “Well,” Eliza drew out the word as she pulled open the door to her pantry. “I’m not sure.”

  “Why not?”

  Eliza sighed, her arms full of canned goods. “It’s a long way away, and I’m not sure if I can get off work—”

  “Horseshit.” Bree’s tone was firm. “You haven’t taken a vacation in three years, and I know it. They can do without you for a week.”

  “I’m just not sure if I feel comfortable. I don’t really know any of your family other than your crazy mom, so I’ll be kind of lonely, and—”

  “If you can honestly tell me you’re not lonely there at home, then I’ll lay off you.”

  Bree had been the one friend Eliza had confided in after the shit with Tyler blew up. She knew how miserable Eliza had been, had even begged her to move down to North Carolina and work for her father’s company. The offer had been tempting, but Eliza couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her hometown. Even if that same hometown hated her.

  “Fine,” Eliza groaned. “I’ll go. But I’m going to regret it. I’ve got to go shopping, find stuff to wear so I won’t embarrass you.”

  “You won’t. It’s going to be awesome.”

  “And no fixing me up. Promise me, Bree.”

  The silence on the other end of the line was suspect, and Eliza raised her brow. “Bree . . .”

  “Fine.” Bree’s exasperated tone made Eliza grin. “Deal. But promise me you’ll keep an open mind, all right? There are a few guys there that I think would be perfect for you. You know that Tyler was a small-minded asshole, and there are tons of guys who’d kill for someone more adventurous in bed.”

  Eliza pretended not to hear that last part. “Okay, let me get going. I’ve got a lot to do if I’m going to be ready to go in, oh, twenty-four days.”

  Once the call was disconnected, Eliza took a deep breath. Okay. She could do this. And the more she thought about it, the better it felt. Get away from all the small-minded small-town people? Maybe she could even pretend to be someone else, someone confident, who owned their slightly unorthodox sexuality.

  She allowed herself a small, genuine smile. Maybe Eliza the hermit could become Eliza the bombshell for a few days.

  24 Days Later . . .

  Eliza’s heels clicked against the tiled floor of the airport. Shifting the strap of her carry-on on her shoulder, she wobbled just a little, but pulled it back before it turned into a stumble.

  Why the hell had she thought it’d be a good idea to wear high-heeled boots to fly? Waiting until she’d actually reached Hawaii to begin her bombshell routine seemed like a much better idea now. She’d held up the TSA security line for a good three minutes while she fumbled with the zipper on the left one. They were still new and kind of stiff, which didn’t exactly make for easy removal. And then her gate had been all the way at the ass end of the airport. Of course. After that, though, the first leg of her trip had been fine. Now she just had to make it to her connecting flight without falling on her face. Hopefully she’d get used to walking in these monsters before she showed up at the resort. There, the last thing she wanted to look like was herself.

  “Sneakers,” she said beneath her breath as she glanced at the flight monitors mounted to the wall. “Sneakers for the return flight. That or flip-flops. I don’t care if it’s November.”

  A speaker crackled overhead, barely audible over the noise and chatter of the busy airport. Eliza pulled at her dove-gray pencil skirt, which was trying to ride up as she walked. She needed to hustle; the flight would be boarding sometime in the next ten minutes, and she was still five or six gates away. It was gate C-4, wasn’t it? She should probably check.

  Shoving her long brown hair back out of the way for about the twentieth time that day, she unzipped her bag and started to dig through it. Of course she’d had to pull everything out at the security desk because of the whole boot fiasco, and her other boarding pass had been shoved in there somewhere. But walking and digging through her bag at the same time wasn’t the easiest thing to do in three-inch heels.

  Glancing back to make sure nobody was close behind her, Eliza ducked to the side of the busy corridor and started digging in earnest. Was it maybe in her medicine bag? Nope, just her vitamins, Tylenol, various just-in-case cold and flu meds. Oh, maybe she’d stuck it in the little lingerie bag. No, not there, either. After another minute, her bag was in shambles and she still hadn’t laid a finger on her boarding pass.

  “Wait a minute,” Eliza said, yanking open the side zipper. “Aha!”

  The boarding pass wasn’t the only thing in that pocket, though, and before she could snag the pass and pull it free, the weight of her tablet pulled the zippered flap out of her hand. A clatter rang through the corridor as her tablet landed face-first on the polished floor.

  “Ohmygod,” she moaned as she bent over to pick it up, praying that the protective case had taken the brunt of the fall.

  “Here, let me get that for you.” An incredibly deep voice from right behind her made her jump. The bag slipped from her shoulder and bounced free, pill bottles and panties scattering in a four-foot radius.

  “Did I startle you? I’m so sorry.”

  She looked up then. The sexy voice belonged to an extremely well-muscled guy in dark-washed jeans and a sage-green sweater that almost matched his eyes. His light brown hair was tousled in that careless but gorgeous way, and as he knelt down beside her she had the strangest urge to run her fingers through it.

  “I saw your tablet fall, thought I could lend a hand since you’ve got yours full. Looks like I just made it worse, though. Here, let me help you.” He reached for the nearest object that had fallen out of her bag, which just happened to be one of her brand-new black lace thongs.

  “No!” she squawked in alarm. “No, don’t touch that.”

  “Hey, I didn’t mean—”

  “Please, just let me get it.” Not trusting her ankles to support her with the damn heels, Eliza began the humiliating task of crawling on the airport floor to retrieve her belongings.

  “I’d be happy to help you; after all, it’s my fault.” The guy reached for her bag.

  She jerked it back, her nerves jangling. “No, no, please, really. It’s fine.” She shoved stuff into her bag as fast as she could, well aware that the burning in her cheeks meant they were a nuclear shade of pink. Hell, she might even be as pink as that bikini. That might be a good name for it—mortification magenta.

  “All right, if you’re sure.” The guy looked a little disappointed, but Eliza couldn’t form the words of an apology. It was like a giant wad of idiocy had wedged itself in her throat. She’d made an ass of herself in this huge airport
, and now she was going to be late to catch her connection if she didn’t hurry. What the hell would she do if she missed her flight? He watched her for a while, but then with an apologetic smile, turned and walked away. She couldn’t help but mentally kick herself as she watched him leave.

  Once everything was shoved back into her bag—including her thankfully undamaged tablet—she couldn’t zip it anymore, but she struggled to her feet and hustled to the gate anyway. When she finally arrived at C-4, boarding had already begun, so she joined the last of the line.

  “Have a nice flight,” the gate attendant said as he scanned her pass.

  “Thanks.” Eliza caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window. At least that fall hadn’t messed up her new outfit. And her hair, which she’d taken a helluva long time to flat-iron that morning before leaving, still looked shiny and bouncy. That little dose of relief lasted all the way down the Jetway and even as she stepped onto the plane.

  But as she moved down the aisle, looking for seat 22B, her relief burned up and the smoke turned into a mixture of embarrassment and despair.

  The hot guy who had caused her to spill her whole bag in the middle of the terminal was sitting in none other than seat 22A.

  This was a five-hour flight. She was going to have to sit next to this guy for five freaking hours, all the while remembering how she’d acted like a total klutz.

  Sometimes life really sucked.

  2

  A sudden noise made Chandler Morse glance upward. There, in the aisle, stood the woman he’d tried to help earlier. Her cheeks were red, the corners of her full lips pulled down as she sank into the seat beside him.

  Well, this is a nice surprise. The sight of her pert ass as she bent over to pick up her tablet had fired him like nothing had in a very long time. His divorce had strung out over a year, and while he couldn’t deny that it was the best thing for him, he couldn’t bring himself to break the vows he’d sworn to until the ink was dry. But for some reason this woman had drawn his eye. Maybe it was the blush. Or the way her full hips flared, framed so well by that form-fitting skirt. He couldn’t deny things hadn’t gone well earlier, but he’d done his best to apologize. Maybe being stuck beside him on a plane for a few hours would help her forget about that unfortunate accident.