Good, Bad...Better. Cindi Myers

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СКАЧАТЬ laughed. “I’d forgotten all about that. I was so mad when he said no, I started hanging out with that group of wild kids.”

      “And the next thing we knew, your dad had signed you up to be away at camp practically the whole summer.”

      She shook her head, remembering. “I was so homesick the first week away, I cried myself to sleep every night. But I wouldn’t have dared to say anything to him about it.”

      “Maybe you should try the same thing now. But instead of friends, you need to find a guy who would worry him. Someone he’d do anything to get you away from.”

      Jen immediately thought of Zach. One look at her with a leather-clad, long-haired tattoo artist would send her father’s blood pressure soaring. “I’m not ten years old anymore, Shelly. I couldn’t do something like that now.”

      “Why not? I mean, if you’re going to be this grownup, independent woman, a fling with a hot, slightly dangerous guy seems like a good way to start. Personal freedom means sexual freedom too, right?”

      “Right.” Not that she knew a lot about it, given her limited experience.

      “Listen, I’ve got another call coming in. Maybe it’s Aaron. I’ll talk to you later.”

      “Sure. Good luck with Aaron.”

      “Yeah, I’m gonna need it.”

      Jen said goodbye and laid the phone on her bedside table. She stared up at the ceiling, mulling over her options. While the idea of a fling with Zach made her heart race, she didn’t think she could pull it off. Better relegate that idea to the realm of fantasy.

      But that didn’t mean she was giving up. She’d find some way to make her father see she was serious about living life on her own terms.

      As soon as she figured out exactly what those terms were. She glanced again at the calla lily above her breast. The tattoo was a nice start. But her father was right—it looked out of place with her leotard. And most of the rest of her clothes weren’t cut to show it off to advantage.

      Okay, then the next step was obviously a new wardrobe. She had some money saved, and charge cards. Time to buy some of the things she’d admired in stores but hadn’t had the guts to wear before. Now, what should she buy?

      She remembered the leather halter Theresa had been wearing. Her new tat would look fantastic with something like that. But she’d left the tattoo shop without getting the card for the store. She smiled. “Guess I’ll have to make another trip to Austin Body Art.” She’d ask Theresa for some clothes-shopping advice. And if Zach happened to be there, maybe she could flirt with him a little. Just to see what happened next….

      WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON ZACH WAS FINISHING AN elaborate design on a customer’s back while another artist, Scott, worked on a college girl, when Jen returned to the shop. The sight of her silhouetted in the sunlight in the doorway set every nerve in Zach’s body on red alert. She was wearing a dancer’s leotard and tights and a short, wraparound skirt that showed off every curve and muscle of her petite body. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice gruff.

      “I wanted to see Theresa.” She walked into the shop and looked around, those gray eyes flickering over him.

      “She’s not here.” He forced his attention back to his work.

      “When will she be back?”

      “I don’t know. She went to lunch.”

      “I’ll wait.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her walk past. She moved with a dancer’s grace, her back a long, elegant line. He followed her with his eyes, distracted from his work and annoyed that he would let a woman do this to him.

      “Maybe I can help you with something.” Scott looked up from the transfer he’d just applied to a coed’s ankle. A young, lanky blonde, Scott fancied himself a lady-killer.

      “That’s okay. But thanks.” The smile she gave Scott made Zach tighten his grip on the tattoo machine. He didn’t miss the way Scott looked at her.

      “How’s the tat?” Zach asked. If she had a simple question about that, he could get rid of her quickly.

      She put a hand to the tattoo. “It’s great. Theresa did a beautiful job.”

      “Let me see.” His customer, a beefy kid who played tackle for the University of Texas Longhorns, grinned and motioned her over.

      She walked toward them, hips swaying, and leaned over, giving them both a great view of her cleavage. Her breasts weren’t very large, but they were nice and round, with pert nipples that pressed against the thin fabric of the leotard. Zach got hard watching her, while the customer all but drooled. “That looks great,” the kid said, his eyes almost bugging out of his head.

      “Hey, watch it!” The guy flinched and shot Zach an angry look.

      Scott laughed and Zach glared at him and shut off the machine. “Sorry. Didn’t realize I was bearing down so hard.” It was difficult to concentrate on his work with Jen so near.

      She smiled and touched the tribal band etched around the customer’s bicep. “You have some very nice tattoos, yourself.”

      When she reached out to touch the guy, it took all of Zach’s self-control not to shove her hand away. As it was, the kid was puffing up like a muscle-bound toad, ogling her as if she was a particularly juicy fly.

      “Did Zach do all the work?” Her gaze flickered to him again as she asked the question.

      The kid nodded. “Oh, yeah. Zach is the best.”

      “Yes, he is the best, isn’t he?” Her smile made him hotter than ever.

      “You told me you were the best!” The coed pouted at Scott.

      “I do the best butterflies,” Scott said soothingly. “Now lie back and relax.”

      Zach started up the machine again and returned to etching the feathers of a highly stylized eagle. Jen leaned over to watch him. “That’s gorgeous.”

      The kid grinned. “Really slick, ain’t it? People that know tats know Zach’s work. No one else does anything like this.”

      “Zach is definitely a talented artist.”

      He tried to ignore the flush of pride that swept over him at her words. What did he care what this ballerina—or whatever kind of dancer she was—thought? “Why do you want to see Theresa?”

      She straightened. “I’m hoping she can give me some advice.”

      He almost laughed. His sister as Dear Abby? Hardly. “What kind of advice?”

      Jen sat in a low-slung leather chair and crossed her long legs, the poor excuse for a skirt sliding up her thighs. The customer leaned forward, his mouth gone slack. Zach squeezed the kid’s shoulder, not too gently. “Sit up straight.”

      He forced his own gaze back to his work, determined not to let her get to him. “What kind of advice?” he asked again.

      “I’m СКАЧАТЬ