by Tamryn Ward
“Love to.”
“Well, there you go.” Beth looked around again. “That is, unless you’re meeting someone else here tonight.”
“No, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“Good! Then you’re mine for tonight.” Full of boundless energy, Beth yanked harder on Jane’s arm until she relented and slid off the stool. Her diet cola in one hand, the other gripped firmly in Beth’s, Jane wound through the crowd toward the rear of the bar. And only after they slipped through a hidden door next to the stage did they find a little bit of elbow room.
“They’re this way.” Beth led Jane down an ugly, dim hallway to a cramped, smoke-filled room full of mangy-looking, rock star wanna-bes and women wearing way too much makeup and too little clothing.
The men clearly appreciated what Jason hadn’t a few nights ago. Every one of their gazes settled first on her boobs before venturing anywhere else. And they took the roundabout, indirect route—down her legs and back up again—to her face.
“Hey, everyone, this is Monica. She’s the one I told you about—the one dating what’s-his-name on WDTL.”
“Cool.” One guy who looked like a throwback to the eighties—big hair bands and grotesquely tight spandex and all—grinned like the cat about to eat the canary. “A hot chick with connections. They’re always welcome. Want to do a line?” He motioned toward a card table in the far corner of the room. Another guy was bent over inhaling white powder off a mirror through a rolled-up dollar bill.
“No thanks. I don’t care for coke…at least not that kind.”
“No problem. Just trying to be hospitable. What about weed? Someone here’s got a joint burning.”
So that’s what I smell. Sure hope I don’t fail my next drug screen just because I’m standing in here inhaling secondhand smoke. She fanned her face with her hand. “No thanks. I’m fine. Really. Beth insisted I come back here and meet everyone and I have so maybe—” With one thing in mind—escape—she turned to find the door.
One of the guys caught her wrist and held her tight. “Sure hope you aren’t planning on going anywhere yet. We haven’t had a chance to get acquainted.”
She tipped her head to look at him.
He was a scary-looking character with hair longer than she’d ever worn, and more Lycra than you’d find in a sporting goods store. His face was pocked with acne scars and, as she glanced down at the hand gripping her tightly, she saw his fingers were stained from smoking. Definitely not her type. Not even close.
“Sorry, gotta go. I’m meeting someone outside. I just remembered.”
“Yeah? Your radio boyfriend?”
“Yes, that’s it. My famous radio boyfriend who can get your CD played on his station during morning drive-time.” When he released her, she made a beeline for the door, ignoring Beth’s insistent shouts as she left.
Dragging in a few non-drug-laden breaths in the hallway, she nearly collapsed from relief then headed out toward the main part of the bar.
The minute she walked out into the large room, she caught a glimpse of him. It was Jason.
He stood casually resting a shoulder against a wood pillar chatting with a cute brunette. His smile flashed bright in the dim light and his eyes sparkled with the look of piqued interest. Immediately, the sting of jealousy burned her stomach.
He hadn’t looked at her that way, even though she thought Monica’s face and body were far more attractive than the brunette he seemed to fancy at the moment.
That woman was almost ordinary, reminded her of herself—when she had been plain old Jane. Sure, he might not want to revisit what he’d had with Monica—for good reason—but she couldn’t imagine he’d find someone like that woman, someone like Jane Brown, attractive.
That kind of thing didn’t happen—at least not outside of the movies. In the real world, rich, good-looking guys like Jason went for the beautiful women with tight butts and perky boobs and perfect hair.
As if he sensed her staring at him, he stopped smiling and glanced her way. She immediately felt foolish, yet couldn’t stop gawking, couldn’t move. Like a deer caught in headlights, she stood frozen and gaped at him.
But a swift and unexpected swat on her ass broke the spell quick enough. Angry, shocked, flabbergasted, she spun around to see who or what had done such a thing.
Mr. Lycra Pants gave her a crooked grin, handed her something, whispering, “Here, love, hold this for me, will you?” then climbed on stage, and blew her a kiss before taking a seat behind a massive drum kit.
Ewww… She shuddered and stuffed the grimy, wrinkled cigarette pack he’d handed her into her purse.
“I see you’ve made some new friends.” Jason said from behind her.
She turned to face him, noticing his wrinkled nose which she assumed was because he didn’t exactly understand her attraction to Mr. Lycra Pants, not that she could blame him. “No, they’re not my friends.”
“Well, I’d say he thinks so,” Jason said, pointing over her shoulder.
Knowing exactly who he was pointing at, and guessing what kind of gestures the gentleman—and she used that term loosely—was making at the moment, she didn’t bother turning around. “He’s on drugs.”
“Speaking of drugs…” Jason sniffed. “I smell something…marijuana? You weren’t smoking pot, were you?”
“Oh, gosh no!” Frantic, Jane waved her arms up and down like some deranged bird trying to take flight. “I smell like weed? I was only back there for a few minutes. Beth insisted.” She thrust her arm forward toward his nose. “Do you still smell it?”
“Back where?” He shook his head then bent to sniff her neck. “No, it’s coming from somewhere else.”
“Shoot! That’s what I get for playing groupie to a bunch of heavy metal hair band wanna-bes.” She waved her arms up and down again. “It was so smoky back there. It must have soaked into my clothes. I wish I had some perfume with me. You know I don’t do drugs, don’t you? I swear I didn’t touch the stuff.”
“Easy! I believe you.” He caught her wrists. “Now stop that before you hurt somebody.” He smiled over her shoulder and holding her hands, drew them together in front of his chest. “Sorry, she’s just showing me something she watched on Animal Planet last night.”
Jane turned to see whom he was talking to.
“Monica, who’s this?” Beth asked as she stepped around her. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
“Er…Beth, this is Jason. Jason, this is Beth. Beth and I work together.”
Jason released one of Jane’s hands to shake Beth’s. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Beth said, almost falling over herself. The girl’s tongue was practically skimming the floor. “What do you do? All of Monica’s friends have interesting careers. Let me guess. Are you a lawyer? Doctor? Local politician?”
He released Jane’s other hand and stuffed both of his in his pants pockets. “No, nothing that…exciting. I buy and sell jewelry.”
“Oh. Cool! Next time I want some new earrings, I know where to go.” Beth gave Jason an ear-to-ear grin and twisted her hair with her fingertips. What a flirt!
To Jason’s credit, he didn’t seem to be biting, at least not this time.
“Sure,” he answered. “Monica can give you my number if you ever need it. She has my card.”
Evidently, Beth caught Jason’s subtle but definitive shutdown when he didn’t eagerly dole out his number. Her smile faded considerably. “Sounds great.”
Earsplitting music bellowed from the speakers as the band started playing.
Beth started gyrating to the beat, resembling a pole dancer without the pole. “Well, gotta go. Monica, are you coming?”
Jane stood between Beth the pole dancer and Jason the bitter ex-boyfriend, wanting to stay and talk to Jason—if that was possible with the loud music blasting from those speakers—but knowing he was probably looking for a reason to leave.
She glanced at him to see if she could read his expression. It was
rather indifferent. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you want to dance with me?” she yelled, hoping for a yes but expecting a no.
He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “This isn’t exactly my kind of music.”
She shrugged, shouting, “Mine either.”
“And the whole mosh pit thing is a little too dangerous for my blood. I’d like to avoid a trip to the emergency room tonight.”
“It’s not that wild out there. ‘Course it’s not like they’re doing the waltz either.” A silly thought struck her and she smiled. “How about we make total asses out of ourselves and slow dance?” The thought of his body pressed snugly against hers made her hotter than hot.
He chuckled, and even with the bass making mincemeat of her eardrums, that wonderful sound found its way to her ears and her heart.
“Yes?” she yelled, motioning toward the dance floor, which was filled to capacity with jumping, shouting men and women. “Come on! It’ll be fun.”
“What the hell.” He took her hand and led her into the crowd, stopping somewhere in the middle and gathering her into his arms.
If there truly was a heaven on earth, she’d found it. There, in the middle of mayhem, with people hopping up and down and slamming into each other, she’d found peace. Content to stay there forever, she looped her arms around his neck, pressed her ear against his chest and inhaled his scent. Her body tingled wherever it made contact with his. And wave after wave of warmth coursed through her body.
She tipped her head to look up and he glanced down at her. One of his hands pressed against her back, pushing her tighter against him while the other palmed her cheek. His thumb stroked her lower lip and she instinctively slipped her tongue out to taste it.
A spark flashed in his eyes as he tipped his head and lowered it until his mouth hovered painfully close to hers. Breathless, eager for his kiss, she closed her eyes and waited.
He didn’t kiss her. Instead, he tortured her by leaving his mouth a fraction of an inch from hers. Their breaths mingled as their breathing quickened. And her lower regions burned with the need to be touched. She ground her pelvis into his leg, pressing and rubbing, furiously trying to ease the ache between her legs as they swayed. His hands dropped to her bottom and rested there, and hers slid down his chest, her fingertips tracing the lines of his developed muscles through the thin knit material of his T-shirt.
It was a magic moment, the most erotic, intense experience of her life. Their gazes locked and she could tell he too was overcome by the intensity. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips and she mirrored him. They didn’t speak, there was no need for words. Everything that needed to be said was conveyed through their eyes. In his, she saw the confusion and hunger, the fear and hope. It hurt to see him that way.
Then the song ended and with it the magic. Jason stiffened, stepping back when she lifted her hands, and gave her an awkward smile. “Shit, I can’t do this. My God…you…I could have…I mean, I want to…” He sighed. “I gotta go. Good night, Monica. You’ll be okay here, won’t you?”
“Sure. I’ll be fine. Bye.” She watched him as he pushed his way through the crowd then decided to call it a night as well. Being a very sexy, very available Monica—despite all the gawking stares—just wasn’t what she’d expected it to be.
That didn’t surprise her.
What did surprise her was finding Jason standing next to her car, his back turned, his head lowered as he scribbled a message on a piece of paper and slipped it under her windshield wiper. As he turned around to walk to his car, he saw her watching. “I…uh…” He ran his fingers through his hair as he visibly grappled for words. “God help me, but I want to talk about this.”
“About what?” Jane asked, wanting to be crystal clear about his intentions before jumping up and down with glee and making a total ass of herself. She hurried to get closer, hoping he’d forget all about talking and just get to the good part. She could only imagine what a make-up kiss would be like from a guy like Jason, especially after that incredible dance.
“Us.”
She did a little celebratory skip across a couple of empty parking spots. “You do?”
“Don’t look so happy.”
“Sorry. I’m finding it tough to contain myself these days.” She performed a little happy dance—including a shake of the tush—for his benefit then flung her arms on his shoulders and pressed her body to his. His erection was a stiff bulge that pressed against her stomach. “Looks like you’re having a hard time too,” she teased as she slid a hand down between their bodies toward his crotch.
“Cute.” He grabbed her wrist to stop her and gently pushed her away. “Uh-uh! Not yet. We need to take this slow. I feel like I don’t know you anymore. I need to know if this is really you or if it’s all some kind of act.”
“Oh no. This is no act. It’s me.” When he didn’t look completely sold, she added, ”You don’t believe me? Then let me prove it to you. Give me a chance to show you who I am. Let’s start over from the very beginning.” She held her hand out. “Hi, I’m Jen—er, Monica. Monica Starke.”
“Jen?”
“I…uh…that was my nickname in grade school. You see, there were two Monicas in my third grade class, so everyone started calling me by my middle name,” she said, not sure what Monica’s middle name actually was, and hoping he’d never read her driver’s license.
“Really? You never told me that.”
Looks like he’s buying it! Mental note to self, check driver’s license as soon as possible. “How could I? We just met.”
He took her hand in his and gave it a shake, staring into her eyes as if he could see clear down to her soul. “Hello, Monica. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Now that we’ve gotten the formalities over, how about we sleep together?” she suggested, half-teasing, half-serious.
“Wow, mighty forward, aren’t you?”
Feeling a little naughty, she grinned. “What can I say? That’s me. I know what I want and I go for it. So what’s the answer?”
He stepped back and crossed his arms over his wide chest, clearly distancing himself. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that the man likes to be in control?”
“Sure. And in bed that’s exactly the way I like them. Completely in control, if you know what I mean.” She winked. This teasing, flirting stuff was a whole lot of fun!
Jason’s jaw dropped to his chest and then he laughed. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Do you expect me to apologize?”
“No. But that doesn’t mean we’re sleeping together either. I don’t have sex on the first date.”
“Was this a date?”
“See? We haven’t even gone on a date yet. What kind of guy do you think I am?”
“A really nice guy,” she answered honestly. “So when are we going to have our first date?”
“How about Friday? Seven o’clock?”
“Hmmm…I’ll have to check my calendar.” She smiled. “That sounds great! See you then.” She plucked the note from her windshield and fisted it before getting into her car. Jason, being the gentleman he was, opened her door for her and gave her a flirty smile as she slipped into the seat.
She read the scribbled message—Call me. We need to talk.—then slipped it into her wallet, taking a quick peek at Monica’s driver’s license while she had it handy. Monica’s middle name was Irene. Oh well. Hopefully Jason would forget her little fib. Closing her wallet and dropping it back in her purse, she started the car, opened the window and said “goodnight, sweet dreams”, in the huskiest voice she could manage.
His laughter echoed in her head all the way home. And her dreams were sweet that night as well. Very sweet.
Chapter Six
Monday morning, Jane went to work early, hoping to catch Monica before she got into the office. She sat in the parking lot, waiting for her little subcompact car and her five-foot-two, plain-Jane body to arrive.
But what she saw wasn’t what she’d
expected.
It seemed that Monica had made a few improvements. In fact, Jane hardly recognized her own body!
Her hair was darker, cut with shaggy, sexy layers around her face and very shiny. And her clothes fit her just snug enough to make the most of her curves.
Gasp! Monica had made her into a babe.
That wasn’t the only change Monica had made. The car was new. Fire engine red. And a convertible of all things!
All Jane saw were dollar signs. New hair, new clothes, new car. Had Monica maxed out all her credit cards in a week? Jane couldn’t exactly kill her if she had.
“Monica!” Feeling really strange looking at her own body from the outside, Jane dashed across the parking lot.
“Jane!” Monica smoothed her black skirt down her legs. “We need to talk.”
God, her voice sounded strange. “Yeah, we need to talk. Where’s my car?” Jane asked, pointing at the convertible.
“Where’s my Lexus?” Monica pointed at the Honda.
“Long story.” Jane motioned toward the building. “Want to talk inside? We can use your office.”
“Sure.”
Jane hurried inside, unlocking the door with her key. She was relieved to see that no one else had made it in yet. They’d hopefully get at least an hour to talk things through in private before the rest of the staff made it in.
They both ran to Monica’s office and headed for the leather chair behind Monica’s desk. Monica made it there first.
“Maybe I should sit there, just in case Mr. Kaufmann comes in,” Jane suggested.
“Oh. Yeah. I forgot.” Monica shuffled around the desk and sat in the chair opposite Jane. “What happened? Why am I you? How do we change back?”
“I don’t know. All I remember doing is making a silly wish and then the next morning I woke up in your bedroom.”
“This is your fault! What were you making a wish like that for?”