Revenge Sex by Jasmine Haynes

closet.
    She stood back once more to assess herself.
Sexy in all black, Jessica smiled. With her blond waves, she looked
absolutely fuckable.
    Now, all she needed was the special perfume
that would drive Clay mad. At the hollow of her throat. On her
lips. Between her breasts. She had one stop to make. It wouldn’t
take long. Vince was so easy. All she had to say was that she had
an unquenchable desire for a blow job. She’d steep herself in the
scent of sex.
    Clay wouldn’t be able to resist her.
     
     

Chapter Twelve
     
     
    Jessica felt a momentary panic when she
entered the Marriott’s lobby forty-five minutes later. It was a
riot of travelers, dragging roller cases, queuing to check in for a
weekend conference or getaway, or lining up at the restaurant’s
entrance. The hotel bar was on the other side of a waist-high row
of planter boxes filled with ferns and philodendrons.
    The panic hit when she saw Clay through the
profusion of greenery, seated in a booth opposite Holt Montgomery.
Dammit. They were having a business meeting. Couldn’t they have
finished that at work? She growled under her breath. The good
thing, though, she’d at least picked the right Marriott.
    She flashed on another idea. Originally she’d
planned a full frontal assault on his senses along the lines of
what she’d done on Wednesday. But what if she made him think she’d
found a man right here? Even better.
    With an exaggerated sway of her hips, she
entered the bar without looking in their direction. The booths and
most of the tables were filled, yet it wasn’t particularly noisy
despite the number of people. The flickering candles were reflected
in the glossy black tile floor as she headed straight for the bar
and an empty seat on the end. Propping herself on the barstool, she
set her large purse—filled with all the necessities a girl needed
to totally wow her man—on the floor beside her. Then she
smiled at the bartender. Clay’s booth was visible in the mirror. He
was looking her way. Perfect.
    “What can I get you?” In his twenties, the
bartender was tall, lean, and cute. He’d come to her ahead of the
two gentleman already signaling him.
    “A chardonnay, please.”
    “Any particular vintage?” He listed off an
impressive quantity.
    The house wine, she wanted to say because she
was thrifty by nature, but the occasion called for something
special. “What would you recommend?”
    “The Wente is a good bet. They’re a local
winery over in Livermore.”
    “I’ll try that one.”
    “Great.” He gave her a smile as he left to
fill her order.
    Her gaze drifted to the reflection in the
mirror behind the bar. Clay nursed a tall mug of beer. Without his
suit jacket, his shirtsleeves were rolled up, his tie missing, and
his dress shirt undone a couple of buttons. She drank in the sight
of him in his casual repose. Never had there been a sexier CFO.
    Holt talked
at him animatedly, his hands cutting through the air. In his early
fifties, the CEO was an exceptionally good-looking man, with thick
wiry gray hair and gray eyes that saw right through you if you were
trying to feed him a load of bull. Though not as tall as Clay, he
cut a commanding figure in a boardroom, and she had a lot of
respect for him. But she was ready for him to take his leave.
    “Here you go.” The bartender waited for her
to try the wine. After she sipped, he tipped his head at her.
“Good?”
    “Great.” She wasn’t a connoisseur, but it was
smooth and mellow.
    He gave her a thumbs-up, then backed off as
one of the guys he’d been ignoring snapped his fingers.
    Twenty-something, or a man like Clay, who was
seasoned, successful, handsome as the devil? Definitely Clay. Or
someone like Holt Montgomery. Older men were so much sexier. Why
Ruby had given Bradley the time of day was a mystery to her.
    Not that it mattered. Ruby had offered Jessica a chance she’d never dreamed of having.
She wasn’t a home wrecker, but Ruby had wrecked her own