She’d really done it this time.
After a lifetime of getting into one scrape after another, Brianna had finally managed to pull off the big one. The snafu of snafus. The fiasco of fiascos. Oh hell. Might as well call it what it really was.
The worst fuckup of her entire ridiculous life.
She peeped back into the living room full of rowdy men, all impatiently waiting for her. And there, smack dab in the middle of them, was the very last man she wanted to see right now. Quinn MacRae.
The bane of her existence. The epitome of trouble. The very embodiment of the biggest pain in her ass.
The absolute love of her life.
How was she going to get out of this one?
One of the rowdies spotted her and pointed in her direction. “Hey, I think she’s finally coming out!”
His pronouncement sent the rest of the pack into a frenzy of hooting and hollering. Brianna slammed the door shut and leaned back against it.
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t. Not with Quinn there.
The hollering changed from a cacophony of whistles and catcalls to an orchestrated chant of her stage name. “Si-ren! Si-ren! Si-ren!”
What was she going to do? Better yet, how had she let herself get talked into this in the first place?
She caught sight of the phone bill sticking out of her purse. Oh yeah, that’s how. She was flat broke.
Well, that and the fact that her best friend Maggie had called, coughing and hacking, begging her to take over tonight. Since they’d practiced Maggie’s routine together, Brianna was her first and only choice to take her place. The ironic part was that Brianna had never done anything like this before. She only knew the routine because it was an amazing workout. Must be something to do with all that bumping and grinding.
Her face flamed at the thought of Quinn seeing her do those suggestive moves. He already had a less-than-stellar opinion of her. She didn’t think this latest mess was going to improve things any.
A movement across the room caught her eye, making her jump. For a second she’d thought someone else was in the room with her, but it was only her reflection in the mirror. Brianna stopped and really looked at herself.
Her hair was teased into a wild and sexy do completely unlike she usually wore it. Plus which, she’d slathered on so much makeup her own mother wouldn’t recognize her.
Feeling hopeful for the first time since she’d spotted Quinn, she stepped closer to the mirror and pushed at her breasts. You know, in this skimpy harem-girl getup she really didn’t think any of the guys would be looking at her face any time soon. Breasts pressed and plumped to magnificent proportions in the red push-up bra, even she barely recognized the monolithic pair as her own.
Nope, there wasn’t a man alive who’d be looking at her face. Not even Quinn.
Relief washed over her. She was safe. An idiot. But safe.
Besides, what did she care what he thought of her even if he did recognize her? Her shoulders straightened of their own accord. Tilting her chin up, she bravely met the gaze of the seemingly confident woman reflected back at her.
She was a good person. Occasionally she got into some trouble. Okay, more than occasionally, but within reasonable parameters. The bottom line was she needed the money. That she was willing to work for that money made her an honest person as well as a good one.
So there, Mister Holier-than-thou Quinn MacRae.
Giving a final nod to her sexed-up image, she headed back to the door. The men were now stomping their feet in tandem with their chanting. She couldn’t put them off any longer without causing a riot.
Pulling herself up to her full five foot ten inches, plus the four-inch stilettos, she put on her mental suit of armor. She could do this. She would do this. Consequences be damned.
She opened the door and the chanting stopped. As one, the men fixed their hungry eyes on her, raking over every inch of her body in the revealing costume. Stripping her before she’d even started the routine.
She wanted to turn and run. To get the hell out of there. But there was no turning back now.
There was nothing to do but brazen it out.