every penny.
CHAPTER SIX
“What are you writing?”
Reese slammed her notebook closed and bit her lip. The PitStop was picking up with the Thirsty Thursday crowd and Reese had been so engrossed in her SG 101 homework she hadn’t even noticed.
Ben looked down at her, his green eyes crinkled with concern. The man was masculinity personified with his thick five o’clock shadow and steel-toed boots.
Been there, rejected by that, she reminded herself.
He cocked his head to the side. “What’s different? Did you cut your hair?”
Her hand instinctively went to her hair. The no-ponytail rule seemed simple on Sunday, but the reality of her wavy hair in Chicago humidity made her wish Halie had cited more exceptions.
“It looks nice.” He reached for her notebook again, his work-roughened fingers brushing the backs of her hands. “Come on, what’s in the book?”
“Nothing, just...” Just writing down miscellaneous sexual fantasies.
At the beginning of the week, Reese had sent Halie an email with her description of Reese the Sex Goddess. She’d made it as far-fetched as possible so Halie would let her move to the next step. The sooner she could get through this, the better. Two minutes after she’d clicked send, Halie had burst into her office.
“You’re good with words.” She’d rubbed her hands together, eyes bright. “I think this is going to be key for you. I’d like you to keep a notebook and write down any and all stray fantasies you have.”
Reese should have known better than to laugh. Halie hadn’t scolded her but had said, “I can’t name names, but this worked for a former client—a certain actress who may or may not be known for her excellent lips and her many adopted children. I didn’t think she’d make it through the program. So insecure. So unaware of her sexual power. This exercise...well, most women fantasize more than they realize. Writing it down makes you slow down and enjoy it. It’s a perfect step two for you.”
So, Reese had started creating lame little fantasies and jotting them down in hopes of convincing Halie that she was the kind of woman who saw a copy machine and imagined a hot office romp and not an efficient way to duplicate expense reports.
She was totally faking it. But who knew faking it could be so much fun?
Her last entry had been a rather elaborate fantasy about Mark Hawk and some creative use of his soundboard. And if she’d made herself write it only after having a graphic fantasy about the other brother? Well, there was no harm in correcting an errant thought. What counted was that she was correcting the thoughts to begin with. She wasn’t going to be the girl mooning over her best friend like she had been in those days before Lance.
Ben arched a brow. “What’s in there?”
“Forget it.” She bit her lip. “Sit down. I need to tell you something.”
He pulled out a chair. “Sounds serious,” he said, taking a seat.
“It kind of is.”
“More slut fantasies?”
“Sort of.”
He reached across the table again. She smacked his hand before he reached her book. “What the heck?”
“This is my private journal,” she said, clutching it to her chest.
Ben rolled his eyes. “Damn, what are you writing in there? Dirty stories?”
“What if I am?”
“Then I want to read them.”
She groaned.
Ben grinned.
“Do you remember what Lance said about our relationship?”
Ben’s smile fell away. “You’re not getting back together with him, are you?”
She shuddered. “No. Of course not.”
“Okay. Then why are we talking about him?”
She bit her lip. “Listen, I know he was a jerk, but he wasn’t an idiot.”
“We’re all entitled to our opinion,” Ben grumbled.
“He said the way you flirt with me was what kept him from asking me out for so long. He thought I was…yours.”
“In that case, I’m sorry I didn’t flirt with you more.”
Dropping her gaze to her beer, she took a breath. “He said our body language is
CHAPTER SIX
“What are you writing?”
Reese slammed her notebook closed and bit her lip. The PitStop was picking up with the Thirsty Thursday crowd and Reese had been so engrossed in her SG 101 homework she hadn’t even noticed.
Ben looked down at her, his green eyes crinkled with concern. The man was masculinity personified with his thick five o’clock shadow and steel-toed boots.
Been there, rejected by that, she reminded herself.
He cocked his head to the side. “What’s different? Did you cut your hair?”
Her hand instinctively went to her hair. The no-ponytail rule seemed simple on Sunday, but the reality of her wavy hair in Chicago humidity made her wish Halie had cited more exceptions.
“It looks nice.” He reached for her notebook again, his work-roughened fingers brushing the backs of her hands. “Come on, what’s in the book?”
“Nothing, just...” Just writing down miscellaneous sexual fantasies.
At the beginning of the week, Reese had sent Halie an email with her description of Reese the Sex Goddess. She’d made it as far-fetched as possible so Halie would let her move to the next step. The sooner she could get through this, the better. Two minutes after she’d clicked send, Halie had burst into her office.
“You’re good with words.” She’d rubbed her hands together, eyes bright. “I think this is going to be key for you. I’d like you to keep a notebook and write down any and all stray fantasies you have.”
Reese should have known better than to laugh. Halie hadn’t scolded her but had said, “I can’t name names, but this worked for a former client—a certain actress who may or may not be known for her excellent lips and her many adopted children. I didn’t think she’d make it through the program. So insecure. So unaware of her sexual power. This exercise...well, most women fantasize more than they realize. Writing it down makes you slow down and enjoy it. It’s a perfect step two for you.”
So, Reese had started creating lame little fantasies and jotting them down in hopes of convincing Halie that she was the kind of woman who saw a copy machine and imagined a hot office romp and not an efficient way to duplicate expense reports.
She was totally faking it. But who knew faking it could be so much fun?
Her last entry had been a rather elaborate fantasy about Mark Hawk and some creative use of his soundboard. And if she’d made herself write it only after having a graphic fantasy about the other brother? Well, there was no harm in correcting an errant thought. What counted was that she was correcting the thoughts to begin with. She wasn’t going to be the girl mooning over her best friend like she had been in those days before Lance.
Ben arched a brow. “What’s in there?”
“Forget it.” She bit her lip. “Sit down. I need to tell you something.”
He pulled out a chair. “Sounds serious,” he said, taking a seat.
“It kind of is.”
“More slut fantasies?”
“Sort of.”
He reached across the table again. She smacked his hand before he reached her book. “What the heck?”
“This is my private journal,” she said, clutching it to her chest.
Ben rolled his eyes. “Damn, what are you writing in there? Dirty stories?”
“What if I am?”
“Then I want to read them.”
She groaned.
Ben grinned.
“Do you remember what Lance said about our relationship?”
Ben’s smile fell away. “You’re not getting back together with him, are you?”
She shuddered. “No. Of course not.”
“Okay. Then why are we talking about him?”
She bit her lip. “Listen, I know he was a jerk, but he wasn’t an idiot.”
“We’re all entitled to our opinion,” Ben grumbled.
“He said the way you flirt with me was what kept him from asking me out for so long. He thought I was…yours.”
“In that case, I’m sorry I didn’t flirt with you more.”
Dropping her gaze to her beer, she took a breath. “He said our body language is
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