Janelle Denison - Tempted

“Oh, yeah,” Jessica agreed, her pale blue eyes sparkling mischievously. “Sounds like heaven.”

Stacey reclined on the matching love seat cornering the sofa and crossed her long legs. “Seven days of doing what we want, when we want. Spontaneity is the word for the week.”

“And relaxation,” Brooke interjected, thinking of all the novels she’d been wanting to read for the past six months and had brought along to curl up with at night.

“Aw, Brooke, you’re no fun,” Stacey lightly chastised. “This week was supposed to be about spontaneity and shedding inhibitions in celebration of being single again, remember?”

Averting her gaze to the fire crackling in the hearth, Brooke took another drink of her potent margarita. Yeah, she remembered the lecture Stacey had imparted on the drive up to Quail Valley for their ski vacation. But Brooke had always been the quintessential good girl—responsible, dependable and virtuous—thinking long and hard about consequences before acting. She’d even accepted her job as an accountant for Blythe Paints because the position was staid and reliable.

Being reckless wasn’t in her psyche…unless she counted that very spontaneous, uninhibited kiss with Marc three months before. Try as she might to forget about that impetuous embrace, the incident, and the man, invaded her thoughts on a daily basis. And at night, well, she’d never had such erotic dreams, had never woken up so on edge. It might have been her own ministrations that had brought her the release her body sought, but it had been Marc who’d starred in the forbidden fantasies she’d woven.

Dismissing the kiss should have been relatively easy, considering she hadn’t heard from Marc since that night. It was the way of the Jamison men, to seize the moment, then move on before the situation got too complicated. In this case, it was probably for the best.

Ignoring the heat flushing her skin—from the combined effects of tequila, the warmth of the fire and her sensual memories of Marc—she met Stacey’s gaze. “You’re the impulsive one, not me,” she retorted.

Stacey made a sound of mock disgust. “You’re just too exciting for words, Brooke.”

She shrugged unapologetically, casually studying her nails. The pale pink polish was chipped and in need of a fresh coat—she planned on treating herself to a manicure and pedicure sometime this week. That’s about how exciting her life got. Predictable…and boring, she realized.

“Let’s try something different, in the way of girl talk,” Stacey suggested. “If you could create the perfect, ideal male to be stranded up here with, what qualities would he have and what would he look like? Use your imagination. Fantasize a little.”

Unbidden, Brooke’s imagination conjured up thick black hair rumpled deliciously, a hard male body made for sin and pleasure, and eyes that darkened from silver to charcoal with a kiss. The fantasies that crowded her mind were something she refused to share with anyone.

Curling her legs beneath her on the sofa cushion, she shoved Marc from her mind and decided to give her ideal male her best shot. “Looks don’t really matter,” she said honestly, “as long as he’s intelligent, warm and humorous.”

Stacey braced her elbow on the armrest of the love seat and propped her chin in her hand, giving Brooke and her description of her exemplary mate her undivided attention. “And sexy?”

“In an understated way. Nothing presumptuous or arrogant.” She finished off her margarita and thought about one of the things that her own marriage had lacked, and that she had often wished for. “His sole focus would be on me and my needs.”

“Oh, yeah,” Stacey said in a throaty purr.

Brooke caught her friend’s drift right away. “And I don’t mean just sexually.”

Stacey wriggled her brows suggestively. “Though being focused on sexual needs doesn’t hurt.”

“I’m talking about emotional needs.” She sounded practical and dull, but didn’t care. After witnessing what her mother had gone through with her father, and her own experience with Eric, those qualities were important to her. “He’d be a good listener, and not afraid to show his feelings. He’d be secure in his masculinity so he didn’t need other women to stroke his ego. And that goes hand in hand with him being monogamous. That’s an absolute must.”

Which certainly left love-’em-and-leave-’em Marc out of the competition.

“That’s very sweet,” Jessica said, a bit of awe in her voice. “Do you think men like that actually exist?”

Brooke glanced at her sister, regretting that Jessica’s illusions about men had been shattered at such an early age by their father’s actions. “Yeah, I do,” she said softly, knowing at the same time that it was only her fantasy.

“You’re so serious about men.” Stacey drained the last of her drink and set her glass on the coffee table in front of her. “Ever thought of just going out and having a wild, mindless affair? Finding some guy that turns you on and having your way with him?”

Brooke imagined ripping Marc’s shirt off, buttons flying. She imagined dragging those tight jeans he wore down his hips, pushing him onto his back and straddling his thighs, then seducing him…

Swallowing a groan, she tried to force those erotic images right out of her head, but she couldn’t ignore that she had wondered a time or two what it would be like to be as sexually liberated as Stacey. To enjoy a man’s attentions without pouring a lot of emotion into the relationship. To just lose herself in mutual pleasure with no expectations, no strings, and without the risk of investing that deep, significant part of herself she could never recover once it was offered.

Men did it all the time. Her ex-husband had been guilty of playing that game, but then again, Eric hadn’t invested the same emotions that she had into their relationship. She’d learned, belatedly, that he’d been incapable of doing so. She’d discovered, belatedly, that she’d been little more than a challenge for her husband, one he’d conquered, claimed, and quickly grown bored with. She’d determined, belatedly, that commitment wasn’t an attribute the men in the Jamison family took seriously.

She knew that, so why was she allowing a bad boy like Marc to get under her skin and consume her thoughts?

“I don’t think Brooke is that kind of girl,” Jessica said when Brooke didn’t answer Stacey’s question.

The corner of Stacey’s mouth tipped up in a lazy, confident smile. “Everyone has a wild side. It’s just a matter of whether or not they tap into it.”

“Very enlightening,” Jessica said with a giggle. “And on that note, I think I’ll go blend the next batch of margaritas.”

Once she’d disappeared into the kitchen, Stacey glanced at Brooke, purpose glimmering in the depths of her eyes. “Ever looked at a guy and thought, I wonder if he’s any good in bed?”

Brooke kept her thoughts centered and focused. “No.”

Stacey considered that for a moment. “Ever looked at a guy’s hands and wondered what they’d feel like sliding over your body?”

Marc had nice hands, large, callused, hot. Her body thrummed at the thought of those palms stroking over her flesh, touching her in sensitive places. “Never.”

“Ever looked at a guy’s lips and imagined the slow, deep kisses he could give…or maybe the different ways he might use his mouth?”

“No, never.” Liar, liar, liar, a voice inside Brooke’s head chanted.

“Ever heard the phrase, ‘just do it’?”

Brooke shrugged. “Yeah.”

“It was meant for people like you.”

Brooke frowned. “People like me?”

“Yeah, people who are too serious and self-controlled. You need to loosen up so you can get in touch with your feminine needs. ‘Just do it’ needs to be your new motto—at least for this next week. Then when we return to civilization you can resume looking for that fantasy man of yours.”