Dead Sexy. Kimberly Raye

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СКАЧАТЬ Nikki remembered her mother talking about Winona when she’d been much younger and not so nice. She’d had bright red hair and matching lipstick and, rumor had it, had spent her evenings down at the local saloon.

      “Now it’s not that men don’t like the pleasers,” Winona went on. “They do. They just don’t see themselves spending eternity with a woman who’d rather cook for them than warm the sheets. Men see those kind of women more like sisters. Somebody to listen when a man feels like whining, to cook when he feels like eating and to boost his ego when he feels down and out. Sure, men get involved with pleasers every lovin’ day, but the first whiff they catch of a teaser, bam—” she slapped her hands together “—the pleaser is stuck home on a Friday night watching reruns of Dog the Bounty Hunter.” She eyed the T-shirt draped over the back of a nearby chair and shook her head. “Did Bill get you that?”

      “I am not a pleaser.”

      Winona smiled. “You should be proud, dear. You’re a good girl. Not a thing like your mama.” Winona frowned. “Now there’s a teaser for you. Jolene’s right up there with Pamela Anderson. Poor Izzie. She’s always had her hands full with that one. But you…you’re a good girl. Why, you’re the spittin’ image of Izzie herself at your age. That woman was, is and always will be a saint.”

      “We had sex,” Nikki blurted.

      “Always putting others first and going out of her way and—excuse me?”

      Yeah. Excuse me? common sense demanded.

      But Nikki’s pride had shifted into overdrive, not to mention the sudden urge to defend her mother, and the words starting pouring out before she could stop them. “Me and the good-looking man who checked into this room—Jake,” she heard herself say. “His name is Jake and we had sex. Lots of sex.” She snatched the white undies from Winona’s hand. “He couldn’t keep his hands off me.”

      “The man who checked into this room?”

      “Jake McCann.” Nikki hiked the sheet up under her arms and scooted toward the edge of the bed. “He’s totally enamored of me.” She pushed to her feet, careful to wrap the sheet around her. “All he thinks about is me.” She wiggled to the far corner of the room and retrieved her jeans and T-shirt. “And sex.” Winona looked shocked and Nikki gave herself a mental high-five. “It’s been really nice talking to you.” And then she turned, waddled toward the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her.

      She leaned back against the cool wood and closed her eyes. Her heart beat a frantic rhythm as the past few seconds replayed in her mind.

      A smile tugged at her lips.

      But the satisfaction she’d felt at blabbing out the truth—the sex part anyhow—quickly fled as she realized that she’d blown her reputation in less than a full minute.

      Her mother was going to be the happiest woman in the world.

      As for Aunt Izzie…

      Nikki didn’t want to think about that right now. She couldn’t. She was too busy trying to digest Winona’s words. A pleaser? Is that what the people in town really thought of her? That she was desperate? Starved for love?

       If the T-shirt fits…

      She’d been starved for sex, not love.

      She had plenty of love in her life. She had friends who appreciated her. A mother who adored her. A great-aunt who treasured her.

      Granted, the emotions didn’t come from a man. But she didn’t need a man in her life at this very second. Which was the reason she wasn’t at all bummed that Jake McCann had up and left without so much as a few words scribbled on a Post-it.

      Sure, she would eventually start dating again and, hopefully, find the right man. But until then she was content being single. She liked her freedom.

      She relished it.

       Yeah, that explains why you feel disappointed.

      Disappointed?

      Hardly. She’d gone into last night knowing full well that it was a one-night stand only. A way to burn off the frustration that had been making her completely and totally crazy.

      Mission accomplished.

      Nikki listened to the footsteps on the other side of the door, followed by the jingle of keys and the heavy creak of hinges. Then everything went silent.

      She splashed cold water onto her face and patted it dry. Dropping the sheet, she scrambled into her clothes. A few seconds later, she pulled open the bathroom door.

      She spared a quick glance around the room. There was no suitcase. No personal items scattered across the dresser. No clothes hanging in the closet. And definitely no note.

       And the problem is?

      There was no problem. It had been one night and it was now morning. Which meant over. Done. Fini.

      She swallowed against the regret creeping up her throat, snatched up her purse and headed for the door.

      It was time to forget all about last night and get back to work.

      The minute the thought struck, anxiety rushed through her. She glanced at her watch. She was three hours late.

      The realization stirred a memory of a small girl sitting up on the couch all night, waiting for her mother to come home. She’d spent so much of her life waiting. And being disappointed.

      Not that she resented Jolene. The woman wasn’t nearly as irresponsible as she’d once been. As wild as ever, maybe, but at least she no longer made promises she couldn’t keep. She loved Nikki, and Nikki loved her, and they’d made peace with the past.

      Even so, Nikki liked being on time.

      She left the hotel room behind, climbed into her SUV and gunned the engine. She had to get home, get changed and, most of all, get her act together.

      That meant forgetting Jake.

      A dark, sexy, erotic image rushed at her and brought a burst of heat to her cheeks. Her nipples tingled. Her thighs ached. Her foot faltered on the gas and she found herself stuck at a red light.

      Three hours and counting…

       6

      IT WAS ALMOST noon by the time Nikki pulled open the swinging glass door and walked into To Dye For.

      As was typical on any given Saturday, every seat was filled. From the cutting stations to the shampoo chairs, to the half dozen hair dryers that lined the far wall.

      Nikki drew a deep breath and gave an apologetic smile as she bypassed the small reception area and one very unhappy client.

      Jean MacGregor was an older woman with lots of wrinkles, dyed brown hair and sparkling silver eye shadow. A coral pantsuit hugged her overweight rump and sizable breasts. A pair of gold cat’s-eye glasses hung from a chain around her neck. She smelled of СКАЧАТЬ