DEDICATION
A heartfelt thank you to the amazingly talented Lara Santiago and the always inspiring Jane Leopold Quinn.
HIDDEN NYMPH
CARMIE L’RAE
Copyright © 2008
Dressed up like a slutty woodland waitress wasn’t the worst humiliation Josea could think of, but it was close. She smoothed the short, jagged flaps of leather over her butt and planted one spiked heel on the curb. Gartered black nylons and five inch heels slimmed her athletic legs more than she’d thought possible, and the jasmine crown she wore enveloped her in a cloud of sweet perfume. The scent of flowers was almost strong enough to mask the exhaust fumes assaulting her from the street. Almost. But not quite. The jasmine couldn’t cover the odor of traffic any more than her determination could calm the queasiness in her stomach.
Ahead towered an ornate old building, a far cry from the mid-priced apartment she had rented.
Could she really do this? Did she have a choice?
No, with rent officially past due tomorrow, she didn’t have a choice. Unless begging for money or surviving the next week on tap water and a handful of stale Wheat Thins constituted choices. And they didn’t. Not even for a dull little homebody like herself.
Josea sucked in her breath, and turned her head to avoid a familiar face – Kevin Layton. With an easy grin, Kevin made his way toward the building. His tuxedo lay perfectly against his athletic frame, and his sun-streaked hair shone against the black fabric. She and Kevin had known one another for years and worked for the same law firm 6
Carmie L’Rae
now. Worse, Kevin’s best friend, Ari Davenport, was the one man she couldn’t get out of her mind.
She didn’t move from the curb until Kevin entered the building.
She’d known she might run into people she knew tonight. Atlanta’s social scene could seem small for a city of its size - not exactly a good thing when a woman got desperate enough to trade in her conservative office attire for streetwalker couture and show up at one of the year’s biggest soirees.
Even with tonight’s pending disaster nipping at her heels, she couldn’t turn back. It didn’t matter what price she had to pay, socially or literally to make this move back home. She belonged here, and one way or another, she’d make it work.
Josea hooked her thumbs in the top of her skintight bustier and twisted. The blood flowed back into her breasts, and her nipples tightened as the silk slid against them. The dark hair brushing her shoulders and moving like a lover’s hand across her back was her favorite part of the costume. The soft tresses transformed every movement she made into a sensual stroke, awakening nerves, heating blood. Her body responded with a familiar ache, reminding her how long it had been since she’d had a real lover, a man who gave her more than she dared to ask for.
She closed her eyes, and chocolate brown contacts settled over her pale blue irises. Not even her mother would recognize her in this getup. If she ran into half the attorneys at her firm, no one would know she hid inside this little woodland nymph. She lifted her chin and headed for the building Kevin Layton had entered.
More than one man’s head turned as she approached the double doors, and with every stare, her confidence wavered. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
She strode into the belly of the beast. Instead of fiery breath, a blast of cool air hit her. The lobby boasted creamy stone pillars and heavily veined marble floors gleaming beneath monstrous chandeliers.
Hidden Nymph
7
One suit after another sailed past her. Eyes skimmed her head to toe. She wanted to scream, I am not a prostitute! I’m an attorney. I wear suits just like yours. Or, I will as soon as I start making money.
Who was she kidding? The tailored suits strolling past her cost thousands of dollars. Student loans, deposits for her apartment, and basic utilities had depleted her checking account down to its last twenty dollars. Moving
A heartfelt thank you to the amazingly talented Lara Santiago and the always inspiring Jane Leopold Quinn.
HIDDEN NYMPH
CARMIE L’RAE
Copyright © 2008
Dressed up like a slutty woodland waitress wasn’t the worst humiliation Josea could think of, but it was close. She smoothed the short, jagged flaps of leather over her butt and planted one spiked heel on the curb. Gartered black nylons and five inch heels slimmed her athletic legs more than she’d thought possible, and the jasmine crown she wore enveloped her in a cloud of sweet perfume. The scent of flowers was almost strong enough to mask the exhaust fumes assaulting her from the street. Almost. But not quite. The jasmine couldn’t cover the odor of traffic any more than her determination could calm the queasiness in her stomach.
Ahead towered an ornate old building, a far cry from the mid-priced apartment she had rented.
Could she really do this? Did she have a choice?
No, with rent officially past due tomorrow, she didn’t have a choice. Unless begging for money or surviving the next week on tap water and a handful of stale Wheat Thins constituted choices. And they didn’t. Not even for a dull little homebody like herself.
Josea sucked in her breath, and turned her head to avoid a familiar face – Kevin Layton. With an easy grin, Kevin made his way toward the building. His tuxedo lay perfectly against his athletic frame, and his sun-streaked hair shone against the black fabric. She and Kevin had known one another for years and worked for the same law firm 6
Carmie L’Rae
now. Worse, Kevin’s best friend, Ari Davenport, was the one man she couldn’t get out of her mind.
She didn’t move from the curb until Kevin entered the building.
She’d known she might run into people she knew tonight. Atlanta’s social scene could seem small for a city of its size - not exactly a good thing when a woman got desperate enough to trade in her conservative office attire for streetwalker couture and show up at one of the year’s biggest soirees.
Even with tonight’s pending disaster nipping at her heels, she couldn’t turn back. It didn’t matter what price she had to pay, socially or literally to make this move back home. She belonged here, and one way or another, she’d make it work.
Josea hooked her thumbs in the top of her skintight bustier and twisted. The blood flowed back into her breasts, and her nipples tightened as the silk slid against them. The dark hair brushing her shoulders and moving like a lover’s hand across her back was her favorite part of the costume. The soft tresses transformed every movement she made into a sensual stroke, awakening nerves, heating blood. Her body responded with a familiar ache, reminding her how long it had been since she’d had a real lover, a man who gave her more than she dared to ask for.
She closed her eyes, and chocolate brown contacts settled over her pale blue irises. Not even her mother would recognize her in this getup. If she ran into half the attorneys at her firm, no one would know she hid inside this little woodland nymph. She lifted her chin and headed for the building Kevin Layton had entered.
More than one man’s head turned as she approached the double doors, and with every stare, her confidence wavered. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
She strode into the belly of the beast. Instead of fiery breath, a blast of cool air hit her. The lobby boasted creamy stone pillars and heavily veined marble floors gleaming beneath monstrous chandeliers.
Hidden Nymph
7
One suit after another sailed past her. Eyes skimmed her head to toe. She wanted to scream, I am not a prostitute! I’m an attorney. I wear suits just like yours. Or, I will as soon as I start making money.
Who was she kidding? The tailored suits strolling past her cost thousands of dollars. Student loans, deposits for her apartment, and basic utilities had depleted her checking account down to its last twenty dollars. Moving
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