Fearless. Tawny Weber

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      Nobody could deny it. They all knew women who’d been fired or been made so miserable over work affairs that they’d quit.

      “What about the rumor that Luke’s being courted by that financial company as a permanent system consultant? The new position starts in two weeks. If he takes that job, he’s moving to the East Coast.”

      Gia grimaced. That reason, more than anything else, was probably the core of why she’d finally confessed her fantasy. Her crush was about to slip right out of her reach.

      “Great, you answered my question before I could ask, again,” Jessa said with a frown, as though they were cheating her. Then her face brightened. “But, really, it’s not the company policy that’s the issue—it’s timing. Once he leaves town, he takes the chances of your fantasy coming true with him. So you need to make this happen in the next two weeks.”

      “Which brings us to the final question,” Sara said, setting aside her glass and leaning forward in preparation for getting to the down and dirty. “What’s it going to take to make this happen for you? What do you need to go for it?”

      A miracle?

      Hiring a street gangster to kidnap Luke and leave him tied to her bed?

      A hell of a lot more vodka.

      “Las Vegas,” Caryn yelled out, clapping her hands together as if she’d just won a prize.

      Gia exchanged baffled looks with the other women before arching a questioning brow. “What about Vegas?”

      “Luke’s attending the CES convention in Vegas next weekend to work the Tri-Solutions booth and schmooze with potential clients.”

      “You want me to go to Vegas and seduce him?” Gia asked faintly. She’d rather crawl under her couch and hide. Talk about double intimidation. Vegas was the land of strippers, showgirls and pay-by-the-hour kink. Oh, yeah, she’d really stand out there.

      “It’s perfect,” Caryn insisted. “You can have your fantasy, with your fantasy guy, and not jeopardize your job. Or your ego if anything goes wrong.”

      “Are you throwing in fat-free chocolate and calorie-less whipped cream?”

      “I don’t have to. All you need is a makeover.”

      Two sets of jaws dropped right along with her own. Gia was glad to see the other women were just as baffled as she was.

      “Since when did makeover and orgasms go hand in hand?”

      “How will a facial and haircut get her fantasy sex?”

      “I don’t look good enough to get a guy like Luke Monroe?”

      “Don’t be silly. You’re gorgeous. But those silly rules mean you can’t haul the guy into the company supply closet and ride him like a wild stallion. So you need a cover. A fake persona. You can make yourself into the woman you are in your fantasies, and he won’t have a clue the woman blowing his, um, mind is someone he works with.”

      “Oh, I like this,” Sara said, all but rubbing her hands together. “It’s easier to get into the role if you’re in costume. The makeover not only protects your identity, it lets you shed your inhibitions. You can do anything you want, because you’ll be someone else.”

      Anything?

      Excitement flamed in Gia’s belly. Suddenly it seemed as if blurting out her secret had been a good thing.

      Nerves warred with the excitement, and doubts screamed warnings in her head. But the vision of being tied to a bed and having whipped cream licked off her body by a very naked, very aroused, very worshipful Luke Monroe made those easy to ignore.

      Well, that vision and the second chocolatini.

      “I could do it. I really could,” she said, pressing her fingers to her lips to try and hold back her excitement. “And, really, where better than Sin City to go wild.”

      Other than right here, in her mind, where she couldn’t be rejected or make an idiot of herself. Or worse, find out she wasn’t fantasy-sex material.

      “There’s no way we can pull all of this off before next weekend, though. Can we?” She didn’t know if she wanted them to say no way or that it was a slam dunk.

      But when the women started tossing around makeover ideas, everything from temporary hair color to extensions to wardrobe options, Gia couldn’t stop grinning.

      This was like her birthday, Christmas and a naughty-toy party all rolled into one. But she was going to be blowing something a lot bigger than a candle.

      Chapter Two

      Girlz Guide Words of Wisdom…

      Anyone worth doing is worth doing in sexy shoes.

      Thinking and plotting while surrounded by supportive friends was a hell of a lot more fun than standing alone, ready to launch the plan.

      And while passing out at a guy’s feet could get a girl some welcome attention, Gia was pretty sure throwing up was nowhere to be found in the Girlz Guide to Seducing a Hottie. She pressed one hand against her churning stomach, wondering how long she had before she was the first of her friends to inspire a new don’t list.

      Curling her toes into her sexy red leather Giuseppe Zanotti peeptoes, she forced her feet to stay still instead of hightailing it out of the nightclub.

      Maybe this was a crazy idea. She wasn’t seductive like Jessa or wild like Sara and didn’t even have a fraction of Caryn’s confidence. Yet here she was, trying to pretend she was all that and a cherry on top.

      A couple deep breaths got her past the hostess desk and to the entrance of The Bank Nightclub.

      The rockin’ vibe of the place actually took the edge off her nerves. The idea of getting out there, moving to the beat, just losing herself in the lights and crowd, held tremendous appeal. Music pounded a hard, fast invitation. Lights flashed to the beat. Even filled with people, the nightclub was so well laid out it didn’t seem crowded. Instead it was inviting, fun and the perfect setting for her fantasy seduction.

      She wanted to dance. She really did. But she couldn’t make her feet move.

      “Hello, gorgeous,” drawled a friendly voice at her shoulder.

      Well, that made her move. Gia damn near jumped out of her shoes. With a deep breath, she turned to brush the guy off, then pressed her lips together to keep from groaning aloud.

      Holy crap. Mark Lane from Marketing.

      Seriously?

      She’d been here less than five minutes, and she was already busted.

      Then she caught sight of her reflection in the mirrored wall behind Mark and blinked. That really was her?

      Thanks to extensions and Feria, her hair was a flowing mass of titian waves instead of her usual chestnut swing. Brown contacts, a painful СКАЧАТЬ