But now that she understood all that—and knew that, sadly, nothing romantic would ever take place between her and the object of her affection—she was going to give herself a really big gift this Mardi Gras season.
She was going to have Ty, once and for all.
He just wouldn’t quite realize it.
She felt a wicked little grin unfurl across her face, anticipating her plan.
“Well, I’d better get back to work. My cases aren’t gonna solve themselves,” Jack said, giving Mia just enough time to duck down behind her desk as he exited Ty’s office.
“Hey, you making your world-famous jambalaya Saturday?” Ty called behind him.
“Wouldn’t be a party without it, ami,” Jack said. “See ya then.”
“Okay, dude. Later.”
Trying her best to think fast as Jack pushed through the door, admitting a whoosh of chilly air and the vague sounds of traffic and a honking horn somewhere in the distance, Mia popped up from behind the desk, let out a sigh, then slammed a desk drawer.
A few seconds later, Ty leaned through the doorway. “Mia? When did you get back?”
“Just now. Passed Jack on the way in—he held the door for me.” Which is why you only heard it open once. “Forgot my purse,” she added, holding it up. “See?”
He looked puzzled. “I…didn’t hear you say anything to Jack.”
She blinked. “We…exchanged nods.”
“Exchanged nods?” He was looking at her as if she might belong in a mental ward.
“Yeah,” she said, dropping her gaze to her purse and the two small packages in her arms. “Gotta go. Don’t want these to be late,” she said, then rushed past him and out the door onto Bourbon, where she finally breathed a sigh of relief. Sheesh, that had been close.
But she couldn’t be sorry it had happened.
Because of what she’d just overheard, she was going to make her dreams come true. Well, not all of her dreams—there wouldn’t be a wedding, or a honeymoon, or two-point-five children and a dog with Ty. But she was going to make her sexual dreams come true, and in the process, she was going to give Ty a night he’d never forget.
Chapter Two
Mia’s skin prickled as she stood before the floor-length mirror in her bedroom.
Her plan had worked even better than she’d hoped or imagined. If she didn’t know she was looking at her own reflection, she’d never have recognized herself.
She’d hidden her pale brown hair beneath an auburn wig of long curling locks, and she’d disguised her blue eyes behind contact lenses of forest green. She’d applied her makeup much heavier than usual, highlighting her eyes with lots of liner and mascara, and accentuating her lips with a warm shade of red.
She didn’t think Ty would recognize her from the neck down, either. She might not have owned any sexy, see-through clothing before, but one daring shopping trip had changed that. As in her fantasy the other day, she donned a lacy black bra under a transparent black blouse. Below, her black mini possessed every element from the fantasy except the sexy slit. And under that… She felt positively sinful in the black lace thong and matching garter belt that attached to black, lace-edged stockings.
Reaching to the dresser beside her, she snatched up two long strands of onyx beads and slipped them over her head. She doubled them, pulling down until one loop chokered her neck and the other draped her breasts.
To top things off, she added the pièce de résistance—sliding a lush, sexy mask of black and silver on, so that only the vibrant green of her eyes shone through. Two thick, downy feathers jutted provocatively from one side of the glittery black mask, its edges lined in sparkling silver cord. Three silver sequins highlighted the outer point of each eye.
“You are a sex kitten, baby,” she said to her reflection in the slightly lower voice she’d been practicing, making sure to enunciate her words more than usual. “And Ty will never know it’s you.”
* * * * *
As Mia strolled up the old sidewalk at what was usually the quiet end of Bourbon Street, music and voices drowned out the click of her high heels. Clearly, Jack and Liz weren’t the only people throwing a party tonight, as the scents of spicy food and hot grills filled the air. Rock, jazz, and Zydeco vied for sound supremacy, along with the notes of a lone saxophone being played somewhere in the distance.
She passed two young boys with taps attached to the bottoms of their tennis shoes, dancing for tips, and a court jester on stilts walked along as if he were any other person headed out for a night of debauchery on Bourbon. Her gaze was drawn to the opposite sidewalk, where two girls were lifting their tank tops, flashing their breasts for beads. The group of guys surrounding them whistled, adding comments like, “Nice, baby,” as they surrendered the shiny necklaces. Judging from how heavily laden the girls’ necks were, they’d already been very busy tonight.
Mia’s pussy swelled a little more with each step she took. Not only due to the sensual sights around her, but because beneath her sexy clothes, her lace lingerie hugged her tight, and her garters rubbed against her thighs and ass with every move. And despite all the color and people and breasts to behold on the street, more than one set of male eyes had perused her, as well, adding to how sexy she felt.
“Want some beads, darlin’?” a man in a cowboy hat asked as she approached him on the sidewalk. He stared hungrily at her chest, but she didn’t mind—he was handsome, in his mid-thirties, and she was so on fire that the suggestion only added fuel to her flames.
“No, but thank you,” she said with a smile in her new lower, more sophisticated voice.
Every balcony along the historic street was strung with streamers or beads of purple, gold, and green, and most were filled with partiers. Every balcony she noticed, looking up, except one. The sight brought a sinful smile to her face.
The quiet, dark, wrought iron balcony she spied was less than a block from Jack’s place, and the apartment attached to it belonged to her Aunt Sophie. Her aunt—the sort of chic, refined woman she hoped to be by the time she reached her fifties—was a jewelry collector and the proprietor of a pricey store on St. Peter, which she made a habit of closing during the few weeks preceding Mardi Gras. It was too loud and crazy for her taste, both at work and at home, she always said, so she used the time to head to the Caribbean with her longtime lover, Morris, every year.
And she always invited Mia to use the apartment while she was gone, given its prime location on Bourbon, but since Mia’s own apartment was only a couple of blocks away on St. Phillip, she’d never taken her up on the offer—until now.
Get ready, Ty, because here I come.
Straightening her shoulders and pushing out her chest, she walked tall and proud up the street and through the archway that led to Jack’s apartment. Disguised as she was, she thought she should have been nervous, but instead, she felt more confident—and more sexy—than ever before. It was as if the mask and the wig gave her some sort of permission to do all the things she wanted with Ty, without any worries. No worries about it changing his opinion of her. No worries of it messing up their relationship or her job. The only thing worrying her at the moment was wondering how she’d stand the wait until she could get his clothes off and have her way with him.
She’d waited until after ten to arrive, and as she’d hoped, the party appeared to be in full swing. As she climbed the outdoor stairs to Jack and Liz’s place, she found partiers—some masked, some not—who had stepped outside to smoke. Jaunty Cajun music came from inside the door that stood wide open. Leave it to the Cajuns, she thought, to make the accordion sound sexy.
She couldn’t have been more pleased to step casually through the door to find a large crowd in a low-lit room. Some people were decked out in Mardi Gras regalia of the obligatory purple, gold, and green, while others chose regular everyday clothing. She blended in perfectly, without even trying.
Much of the crowd stood back around the edges of the room, forming a circle around Jack and Liz, who perfor
med a sexy version of the two-step. Mia had never seen Jack look at any woman the way he always looked at Liz—like she lit up his life.
Some of the guests moved to the music themselves, but it was clear this dance belonged to the host and hostess. Liz smiled into her husband’s eyes, and Mia could see the sparkle in her gaze, even through the red mask she wore. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen two people more into each other.
God, I want that with Ty.
She flinched when she realized what she’d just allowed herself to think.
Because she couldn’t have that with Ty. What she could have with Ty was hot sex. And friendship. Independent of one another. And that was all.
When the sizzling Cajun song came to an end, the crowd gave a smattering of applause, and Ty suddenly appeared, stepping up to slap Jack lightly on the back. “You almost make him look like a good dancer,” he said to Liz with a laugh.
“Whoa there, ami, I’m the one who’s been doin’ the teachin’ here.”
When Ty raised his eyebrows, Liz replied, “It’s true. Jack’s been taking me out to a place on the bayou for barbeque and two-stepping every Friday night for the past couple of months.”
“Gotta get some Cajun in her soul,” Jack added with a grin.
“I’ll just take some Cajun in my arms instead,” his wife said, pulling him into a steamy embrace Mia envied.
But stop envying Liz and Jack. In fact, stop thinking. And start getting into your game.
Fortunately, watching Ty from across the room made that easy. Since spotting him, everything inside her had tightened with excitement, and with the knowledge that tonight she would finally have him. Her cunt went wet remembering what she’d come here to do.
It was high time she slake her lust with this man, once and for all.
* * * * *
Ty checked his watch for the fifth time in the last hour. Where was Mia?
Not that it really mattered, but she’d said she’d be here, and she was usually punctual, and it worried him if she didn’t show up someplace she was supposed to. He’d known her for so long, he just kind of liked to look out for her when he could. As a favor to Tim, and because she was a friend, he told himself. That was all.
As Liz passed by, a few empty plates in her grasp, he lowered a hand to her arm. “Have you seen Mia?”
She shook her head. “Now that you mention it, no. But Jack said she was coming.”
He gave a slight nod, then let Liz go on her way.
Yet he couldn’t stop a wayward pang of envy for his best friend. Liz had it all. In fact, he’d gotten the opportunity to get a taste of Liz in bed back when she and Jack had first met—they’d wanted to experiment with a threesome, and who was he to stand in the way? Fortunately, things had never been awkward after that. He’d understood it was a one-time experience and from that point on, he’d been happy to get to know Liz as a friend and Jack’s future wife. But as he’d implied to Jack earlier in the week, he often found himself wondering how Jack had gotten so lucky to have his soulmate walk right into his life when he wasn’t even looking for anything like that.
Hell, maybe he did want to settle down. If not, then why was he so jealous of Jack’s happiness lately?
He was having stupid thoughts, that was all. And if he was smart, he’d quit dwelling on those stupid thoughts and do what he’d planned to do at this party—find some lovely, wild woman who wanted to cut loose and have some Mardi Gras fun.
It was at that precise moment he saw the lady across the room. Even behind her mask, he felt her watching him.
A redhead with a smokin’ body. They made eye contact and she slowly licked her upper lip. Sexy as hell.
As he felt the first hint of a reaction in his cock, he decided that maybe his wish was coming true—the redhead must be a friend of Liz’s and she looked exactly like a woman who wanted to get together and get naked.
If his experience held, they’d have a good night or two—or five, or ten—of sex, and then it would be over, but that was okay. Despite his brief moments of wife-envy, he’d pretty much accepted that having sex without romance was just part of how his life worked. And if he’d needed a sign to prove it, the sexy lady in black and silver was it.
Even now, with her gaze intent upon him from behind that alluring mask, she dipped her finger into her glass of wine, then sensually slid it into her mouth, sucking it dry. His chest went warm and his groin tightened further. Very nice, baby, he thought, and hoped like hell she could read the response in his eyes.
Just then, someone bumped into her—a guy, someone else Ty didn’t know. The dark-haired corporate type began talking to her, making her smile, and an unbelievable, and unreasonable, ire rose inside him at having their silent flirtation interrupted. It made his cock go even harder, made him want her even more, feeling as if Mr. Clean Cut over there had just invaded his territory.
Just as he was contemplating walking over and finding some way to stake his claim without seeming like a madman, the guy moved on. Looking after him, the lady in the mask switched her glass from one hand to the other, and in the process dropped her cocktail napkin. It fluttered to the floor at her feet.
To Ty’s surprise, she cast a quick glance in his direction. To make sure he was still watching her?
Then she turned away from him and bent over at the waist, going down, down, making her skirt rise so far in the back—past the sexy, lacy tops of her stockings and well up onto black garters stretched tight—that he stood waiting to catch a glimpse of the mound between her thighs. The skirt didn’t quite go that far, but by the time she retrieved the napkin and stood back up, he was so stiff it almost hurt.
Just then, a piece of silverware tapped against a wineglass, and the buzz of voices filling the room went quiet, leaving only a slow Cajun waltz in its place. “There’s plenty more jambalaya in the kitchen for anyone who wants it,” Liz announced.
Standing beside her, Jack added, “And if you’re ready for dessert, we’ve got fresh beignets and, even though it’s a little late in the season, a great big king cake.”
“Never too late for king cake!” someone yelled in a heavy Louisiana drawl.
Traditionally, the king cake was supposed to be served on January sixth, the epiphane and official start of the Mardi Gras season. A plastic baby, to symbolize the new year, was baked into the cake, and whoever got the piece with the baby had to host the next soiree. But, tradition aside, king cake was a pretty common treat right up through Fat Tuesday—it wouldn’t be a Mardi Gras party without one.
Turning his attention back to the hot redhead, Ty found she’d left her spot to move toward the dessert table. He decided to hang back and avoid the crowd for the moment—he’d approach her when there weren’t so many people around her.
Looked like she’d volunteered to help hand out the cake as Liz cut it—he watched as she picked up two purple paper plates topped with cake and took a few steps into the room until two partygoers relieved her of them. The same scenario repeated three times until it hit him that he was totally caught up in staring at her. But he couldn’t help it. He was getting intoxicated by her lush cleavage and that sexy see-through blouse, and her black strappy heels were so hot he thought he might like to feel one of them digging slightly into his back. Oh yeah.
Just then she grabbed up another slice of cake and started weaving through the crowd until she reached…him. She held up the plate with a come-hither smile. “Hungry?” she asked in a low, drop-dead sexy voice.
He felt the question in his cock. “Very,” he replied, peering down into warm green eyes.
“Enjoy,” she said as he accepted the cake, then she turned and sauntered away, the sway of her hips entrancing.
As Ty bit into the sugary-sweet confection, he found himself thinking, Hell, who needs a meaningful relationship when you’ve got this—a super-hot woman ready for what promises to be a fun night ahead.
That was when he realized he was chewing…paper.
Reaching into
his mouth, he drew out a tiny slip of crumpled yellow paper. It said in sharp black letters, Want to fuck?
His cock threatened to burst from behind his zipper at any second. He lifted his gaze to find the redhead back across the room, still handing out cake. Lowering his plate to the nearest table, he made a beeline for her.
As she bent to scoop up two more plates from the dessert table, he leaned in close behind her, letting his body graze hers from the waist down.
She flinched lightly, but didn’t move away—only straightened and turned to look over her shoulder.
“Yes,” he breathed low in her ear. “And I want to do it hard.”
Maybe he shouldn’t have been a hundred percent certain she’d sent the note, but he was. He just knew—without a shred of doubt. He moved half an inch closer, so she’d feel his hard-on pressing into the crack of her ass.
Setting the plates back down, she turned, handily extricating herself from between him and the table, and grabbed his hand. “Follow me.”
Just the touch of her fingers added to his heat as she led him across the floor, around a corner, and into the bathroom, currently candlelit. He shut the wooden door firmly behind him and spun to look at her.
Her eyes blazed with the same fire that burned hot in his veins, and her ample chest heaved slightly, begging for his touch. A pouty mouth painted with dark lipstick made her look all the more like a mysterious piece of forbidden fruit. And he was ready to take a bite.
They stepped toward each other at the same time, moving into each other’s arms. His settled around her waist and hers circled his neck. “What’s your name?” he asked, his mouth hovering an inch above hers.
She hesitated slightly, then licked her upper lip. “Mina.”
“Nice to meet you, Mina. I’m Ty,” he said, then lowered a kiss onto that dark, sexy mouth.
She responded with eager pressure, hungry and willing, just the way he wanted her. She tasted sweet, like the cake he’d just eaten, as he eased his tongue between her lips. Her breasts pressed firm against his chest and his cock molded perfectly with the indented slit he could feel beneath her skirt.
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