In half an hour, with luck, she would find out if sex with a wildly attractive bad boy would change her attitude. She didn’t care about competing with other more attractive, more confident women, and she didn’t hope for love. One single bout of satisfying sex would do her. Then, she would know she was not as frigid, repressed, and sexless as she had been told.
Staring at the door, she waited for the big, inscrutable hunk.
* * * *
Jay shut the bathroom door behind him. Last year, he had built the set for South Pacific. Although he hadn’t attended any rehearsals of the show, while he had been bumping-in the set, he had heard an actor going over a schmaltzy song about spotting a woman across a crowded room and falling instantly in love.
Jay hadn’t fallen instantly in love with Vix Tremain, but lust had featured strongly. Spotting the blonde, he had pushed through the usual crowd to introduce himself to a sleek beauty who seemed genuinely glad to talk him. Normally a woman with skin as smooth as rich cream and a long-legged, toned body would act like a show pony, but she had a rare natural charm. She also showed a clear interest in him, demonstrated by the odd self-conscious gesture, like touching her hair and moistening her lips. Every move of hers reflected his purely animal attraction. He’d thought the last theater set he ever meant to construct would easily be his most interesting.
Set painters could be anyone—male or female, old or young, ultra-serious, control freaks, or dreadlocked posers. Not often did he get assigned to a beautiful woman who looked as interested in messing around as he was. He didn’t have the time for a relationship, but he could fit in a casual affair that lasted the length of the production, and he could certainly handle one with a golden man-toy. He’d been blatant about his attraction to her, and he’d intimated that a sweaty night would be had by all if she accompanied him home.
The dazzling smile she gave him in response hit him like a punch to the head. He’d seen that smile before. Only last year, when skimming the newspaper, he’d noted a photograph of the Nolans, plain, plump Victoria with her incredible smile and her older husband, Timothy, architect and millionaire entrepreneur.
Jay ran his fingers over the scar on his cheek, a memento from her husband.
For at least a year, he’d thought about revenge on Timmy-boy. Although Jay was visibly scarred, he’d never been handsome. Nor did he make his living out of his looks. Bygones had been bygones, but knowing she was Tim’s ex added to her appeal. In fact, he’d seen screwing her as some sort of compensation for having his future screwed by Tim. His dick had largely guided these self-serving thoughts.
Now, although still influenced by a keen body part, he found he couldn’t use Vix in an act of silent revenge. Perhaps if she had been the woman he’d always assumed she was, a rich bitch with haughty opinions, he wouldn’t have changed sides, but a sophisticated man-toy she was not. Instead, she was bright and wryly funny, both of which he found more sexually stimulating than a bored divorcée looking for a night on the wild side.
Crap! He couldn’t knock back a woman with so little confidence in herself. If he had her, he would be all kinds of a heel. If he didn’t, he would be all kinds of a fool.
He massaged the back of his neck, undecided.
Finally, he eked out a breath, opened the cabinet door, and glumly reached for a condom. This had to be his unluckiest night in his whole misbegotten life.
Meet the Author
From art student to stylist, to nurse and midwife, Virginia Taylor’s life has been one illogical step to the next, each one leading to the final goal of being an author. When she can tear herself away from the computer and the waiting blank page, she immerses herself in arts and crafts, gardening, or, of course, cooking. You can visit her website at www.virginia-taylor.com, and tweet her @authorvtaylor.
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