before, she'd put on her own suit. The black two-piece had appeared fairly modest in the Macy's dressing room, and she'd snapped on a mid-thigh-length black jean skirt over the bottoms as well. But the deep plunge of the halter top and the hip-hugging waistband of the skirt left a lot of bare flesh revealed. Her wedge shoes made her legs feel miles longer - which was good until she realized that meant miles more nakedness too.
She thought about swamping herself in the fleece sweatshirt again. She considered turning around and coming up with another plan for a different day. Then she remembered Ian Stone and how he'd trampled her pride and her reputation. Her inner resolve stiffened. With a deep breath, she knocked on the front door.
As she'd hoped, it wasn't Griffin who opened it. If yesterday was any indication, he was tucked in some secluded corner. The guy on the other side of the threshold wasn't familiar to her, though he was dressed in the common male uniform of board shorts and a tan. His smile was white, and a dark blue tattoo over one pumped pec showed the silhouette of a surfer carrying his board under his arm.
"Babe!" he said, as if they were old friends. His warm palm cupped her shoulder to draw her inside. "You need a beverage!"
It was that easy. She figured the layers of mascara she'd applied had done their part, as well as the raspberry gloss she'd pinkied onto her mouth. Once she had an umbrella drink in her hand, Jane decided she could introduce herself as something more exotic with an entirely straight face. Jana. Janelle. Jezebel.
As she walked across the deck, a man grabbed her wrist, and dragged her near to dance to an old B-52s tune. He put his hands at her waist and she used the shuffling circle they made to search for Griffin. If she spotted him, she wasn't sure what she'd do. Wave? Stick out her tongue? But both seemed childish when all she wanted was to remind him of his obligations, one professional to another.
She glanced down at her naked skin and skimpy outfit with another wave of misgiving. Perhaps this had been a bad idea after all. The urge to cover up had her edging away from her dance partner. His fingers tightened on her waist.
"Where you going?" he asked.
"To get my sweatshirt." She made a vague gesture toward the front door where she'd left the thing on a bench.
"And hide away all that creamy skin?" the guy protested, leaning close to her ear. "That would just be so...wrong."
Her smile was halfhearted. "Yeah, well, I'm a little chilled." Please, please don't offer to warm me up.
He took her hand and started boogying across the deck. "Okay. Where'd you leave it?"
"At the entrance." Gratified that he hadn't followed with the obvious line, she let him lead her through the crowd. Even with her wedge heels, her lack of height meant she didn't see much more than the shoulders, chests and backs of the male guests. If there was one thing she could say about the surfer crowd, their upper bodies were very well developed.
When her dance partner finally stopped, she stuttered her steps to prevent her nose from ramming into his spine. He spun around and pressed her against a nearby wall. Jane realized he'd drawn her into a small side room that held a washer, a dryer and a wooden contraption draped with a handful of beach towels.
"This isn't the entrance," she pointed out. "That's where I left my sweatshirt."
He smiled at her. "Let me be the one to warm you up."
Oh, damn. "You just had to go there," she muttered. Then she raised her voice. "No, thanks."
"Please," her dance partner wheedled. He was a nice-looking guy, and for a second Jane considered it. She hadn't been kissed since the Ian disaster and she was all Jezebel-ed up, wasn't she? Why not take a little walk on the wild side?
Someone strolled by the open door, and the man called out. "Jer! Come in here and convince this pretty little thing that I can rock her world."
"Jer" paused, stretching muscular arms to grip the doorjamb on either side. Jane's pulse tripped, then started accelerating. The new guy was big enough to block a lot of the light. The room's walls started to contract - in her mind anyway.
The second man's smile seemed sinister. "Ricky's good, but I'm better. You want to take a turn with