Accidental Sex Goddess (3 page)

She clapped her hands and gave a saccharine smile. “Aw, it’ll be just like old times. Go ahead, Lance, disrespect the hell out of me.”

“Still so sarcastic. You look terrible.” He sighed as if the fact offended him personally. “And it’s not just the rain.” He took a step closer and tilted his head. “You’ve put on some weight since we split, haven’t you?”

Dear God, I know I once hoped to carry this man’s babies in my womb, but I was young and dumb, and I’d be okay with you smiting him now
.

Really, right this instant would be just fine. It’s already storming and with a carefully directed bolt of lightning, no one would know
…

No? Nothing?

She sneered at the sky.

Lance took another step closer, sheltering her under the brim of his umbrella. “Are you stress-eating again?”

She took a breath. Why couldn’t he have been like this when they first met? The condescension, the insults, the emotional abuse—she never would have fallen for him. “I have a meeting, Lance.” Now to pretend she was going anywhere but—

“Oh. Shit.” He turned and eyed the business fronts— “You’re going to Sex Goddess, Inc.” A pained look crossed his features. “You know that’s not going to change the way I feel about you, right? We’re done, Reese. It’s been six months. I’ve found someone who doesn’t freeze the sheets, if you know what I mean.”

Kiss my ten-pounds-fatter ass, you self-centered—
“It’s for work.”

He held up his hands, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Hey, I’m not judging. I think it’s about time you—”

“The station’s doing a promotion.” Her words were clipped. And to think, an hour ago she hadn’t believed her day could get any worse.

“You’re still working there? I’d heard they were going to have to—” He shook his head. “Nah, I’m sure it was just a rumor.”

Reese clenched her teeth. It wasn’t just a rumor, it was the first verse to her personal country song. “Take care, Lance.”

Darting though the rain, she headed to the double doors of Sex Goddess, Inc., hair and business suit sopping wet, mascara streaming down her face.

Looking like a drowned rat in an establishment that specialized in duck-to-swan makeovers was her boldest feminist act of defiance since picketing the no-girls-allowed youth football league in middle school. Or it was a pathetic cry for help.

A shiver wriggled up her spine as the air conditioning hit her wet skin.

Do the next right thing
, she told herself, commanding her feet to move to the receptionist’s desk. “I’m here to see Halie McCormick,” she informed the raven-haired beauty.

The woman didn’t blink at Reese’s appearance, didn’t look her over or turn up her nose. She gave a nod and said, “The Goddess will be with you shortly.”

The Goddess
.

Jiminy Cricket, she’d rather be anywhere but here. The bottom of a bottle of Merlot, for example. “Thanks.”

She wrapped her arms around herself and paced the small waiting area, trying desperately not to think. She just had to keep shoving everything down until she got through this meeting.

The knot in her stomach grew, ached, and threatened to unravel and take her calm façade with it.

“Reese? Look at you! You poor thing! Come into my office!” Halie wrapped an arm around Reese’s wet shoulders and guided her out of the lobby. “That downpour came out of nowhere, didn’t it?” she said, closing the door behind them.

Reese put a hand to her damp hair. “I apologize for my appearance.” She omitted the part about her broken down car and her walk in the rain.

Seriously, if she’d had a dog, she’d be worried.

Halie slipped behind her desk, motioning for Reese to take a seat. “Don’t give it another thought.”

Reese was suddenly glad she’d kept the appointment. Despite Halie’s attempts to turn Reese into one of her “goddesses,” Reese liked her.

Returning the woman’s smile, she settled into a chair. “Ms. McCormack, I need to begin this meeting by informing you that I no longer officially represent WJRK, though I would like to firm up your partnership with the company for the upcoming charity ball.”

Halie pulled back a bit. The air in the room chilled. “What do you mean, you no longer represent the station?”

Reese swallowed hard. It hurt to say the words. “I was laid off.” To Halie’s quirked brow, she added, “Thirty minutes ago.”

Halie crossed her arms and surveyed Reese, eyes narrow. “In that case, what are you doing here?”

Reese dived in. “I no longer represent the station, but the charity event we—they—have coming up is the most important event of the year. I wanted to make sure you would still be signing the final papers.” She took a breath and forced herself to stop talking.

“You got fired.”

“Laid off,” she corrected softly.

“Severance package?”

Reese winced. “One week’s pay.”

Halie nodded as if pieces of a puzzle were falling into place. “You kept this meeting with me to advocate for the company that just threw you out on your ass?”

“It’s an important event.” Or at least the cause was important. If Almost Home weren’t counting on the money they’d receive from the ball, Reese wouldn’t be here.

“Reese, have you given any more thought to my suggestion that you enter my Sex Goddess 101 program?”

Reese gaped. Seriously? After the day she’d had,
this
was what the woman thought was important? “I can’t afford your program.” Both a convenient excuse and the truth.

“Money isn’t an issue. This one is on me, as well as a per diem for clothes, salon visits, and…other necessities.”

She blinked. Even the wealthiest Chicago women blanched at the price of the program, and Halie wanted to give it to Reese for free? “That’s very generous of you, but I’m only here to solidify your commitment to—”

“Stop, please.” Halie dropped her hands to the desk and clicked her nails. “You have such loyalty. Do they even know what they’re doing, letting you go?”

Tears surged up, thickening in her throat, and Reese swallowed hard to push them back down. She hadn’t yet processed the bomb her boss had dropped on her. She hadn’t
let
herself because there were more important things at stake than her job.

“You know, I’ve been interviewing for a promotions director, but I haven’t found that perfect fit yet. Would you be interested?”

Reese leaned forward. She must have rain water in her ears. “I’m sorry?”

“Would you be the Sex Goddess, Inc. promotions director?”

“Um.”
Wow
. She was pretty sure this didn’t happen in real life. Her ears roared as she tried to process the possibility. Halie was saying something about opportunity and adjustment, something about how change could be good for Reese. “That would be amazing. I—”

“The job is yours.” Halie gave a sharp nod. “I’m good at reading people, and you’re something special, Reese. I’ve always liked you.”

“I— You— It’s—” Words. Words would be good here. But what was she supposed to say? She’d walked into the office unemployed, making a pathetic last ditch effort to save an event she believed in, and suddenly she was being offered a job that hadn’t even been on her radar.

“
However,
I can’t have a woman who doesn’t believe in herself representing my company.”

She flinched as the proverbial other shoe knocked her upside the head. “I believe in myself.”

“Should we recap?” Halie stood and placed her hands on her hips.

I’d rather not.

“Today, you lost your job, but instead of going to a bar with your friends and cursing your employer—”

“It’s a bad economy.” Reese cringed, but it was easier to parrot the party line than let herself be angry. “They really didn’t have a choice.”

“And you’re sitting in a meeting advocating to me on their behalf.” Halie looked Reese over—from the damp ponytail at the base of her head to her saturated suit jacket to her beige pumps. “You dress like you hate yourself.”

Ouch
.

“You do so much for others, and they do nothing for you in return. Even in the bedroom.”

Reese’s breath left her in a
whoosh.
“Excuse me?”

“Your sister told me about your little problem.”

Yep.
Worst. Day. Ever.
“Could we not talk about—”

“I want to help you, and I want you to work for me. But first you have to help yourself.” Halie placed her hands on Reese’s shoulders. “Sex Goddess 101 will open doors you never even imagined, and I want that for you.”

Yeah, but Reese had seen this movie. Take one dowdy wall-flower, replace glasses with contacts, treat frizzy hair with flat iron, and place in tight, revealing clothes. Insert into the world and watch her blossom. “I don’t think I’m really the type. I’m not like my sister.”

It was a good thing she’d been unemployed for almost an hour and not almost a month. Otherwise, she’d probably be falling at Halie’s feet begging for the job. As it was, she was kicking herself. If she missed even one paycheck, she risked losing her condo.

But she couldn’t pretend to be someone she wasn’t, could she?

“How important do you think the station is to the masquerade ball?” Halie asked. “With a good promotions director, could company like mine could pull off a charity event like that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fantastic. That would be your first project. Because I’m not interested in working with WJRK anymore. I don’t like that sexist morning show of theirs. I only worked with them this long because of you. I really like you, Reese.”

Reese’s mind was spinning.

“Let me know when you’re ready. Once you enroll in the program, we’ll be happy to welcome you to the SGI team.” She scribbled something on a card and handed it to Reese. “I think that is a fair compensation package.”

Reese looked at the card and blinked. Silence roared in her ears as she realized an ugly truth about herself: She could be bought.

CHAPTER THREE

Reese Regan, aspiring slut
.

Reese wiped the steam off her mirror and contemplated the pejorative term.
Slut.

Did that mean not having to play the dating game anymore? Did it mean not having to worry if the guy across the table at dinner would be more interested in her cooking skills than her mind? More interested in her housekeeping abilities than her ideas? Did it mean enjoying herself when she was in bed with a man?

If so, she was in. Nothing good ever came of dating, and, frankly, she didn’t care for what the old ritual had to offer. Her cell phone buzzed on her bathroom vanity.

A quick look at the display told her Masey was on the other end. Masey didn’t know about Reese losing her job, so she had to be calling about the date.

“It’s after ten. Don’t you have something better to do than check on my love life?”

Masey laughed. “Sadly, no. I want the dirt.”

Reese held the phone between her shoulder and ear while she pumped lotion into her hand. “Total bust.”

Masey grunted. “Damn. I was hoping to live vicariously through you too. I thought he was a banker.”

“Yep, so he had the whole not-a-bum thing going for him, but he spent the entire dinner quizzing me.”

“About what? Stocks and bonds?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Reese smoothed the lotion over her damp legs and rubbed it in. “Where do I see myself in five years? How many children do I want to have? Do I realize I should have children sooner rather than later if I really care about the well-being of my babies?”

“Nuh-uh!”

“The man actually asked whether or not I had checked in on the health of my ovaries.”

“Dear God,” Masey breathed. “Date from Hell.”

Reese took a gulp of her wine. “That wasn’t a date. It was an interview for the dubious honor of being the man’s wife. He kept telling me how
nice
it was to be on a date with a
good girl.
”

“Ew! What did you
say
?”

“I told him I’m not a good girl, I’m an aspiring slut.”

“Good for you!”

“I would have said anything to end the game of Twenty Inappropriate Questions. And, anyway, it wasn’t a total lie.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Reese pulled the towel from her head and wiped the steam off the mirror.
Aspiring slut.
Her hair tumbled around her shoulders, a dark mass of wet waves. If there had been a Slutty Reese buried somewhere inside her, maybe Mr. Banker would have seen that and would have bypassed the questions in favor of a different kind of entertainment. Maybe she’d be acting out some delicious fantasy beyond the realm of her limited—and disappointing—sexual experience.

Instead, she’d cut their night short and come home to wash breakfast dishes and climb into her second shower of the day.

She’d also had most of a bottle of her favorite red wine—the likely culprit behind getting a case of the giggles after the day she’d had.

“I wouldn’t mind being a slut.”

“Whatever, Reese.”

“I’m serious. You know, just for a little while. I’m sick of being the girl everyone takes so seriously. I want a little fun.” She picked up her wine glass and took a long sip, closing her eyes as the warmth traveled down her throat, into her chest, and sank in her belly.

“You don’t have to be a slut to have fun. You just need to find the right guy. Maybe he’s right in front of you and you don’t even know it.”

Mark Hawk immediately came to mind. She’d had a chance with him once. She’d wasted the opportunity, thinking she wanted something else, but a little piece of bad boy was exactly what she needed.

She always ended up with the wrong kind of guy…or pining after the guy who didn’t want her.

“Don’t settle for a wild fling when Prince Charming is waiting in the wings.”

She snorted. “I found Prince Charming, remember?”

“Lance was no prince.”

“He was. He was perfect. The dream. Then one day I kissed him and he turned into a frog.” And that summed up her life—a backwards fairytale. She’d fallen hard, moved in with him, and almost destroyed her friendship with Ben.