Revenge Sex by Jasmine Haynes Page A

home.
Jessica intended to pick up the pieces.
    “Is this seat taken?”
    She startled, holding the stem of the
wineglass too tightly and sloshing a few drops over the rim. “No,”
she answered the man after recovering.
    “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
    She’d been concentrating on Clay and hadn’t
realized anyone was near until the man had spoken. “You didn’t,”
she said, smiling. “In fact, I’ve been saving that chair for you.”
He was exactly her type.
    He raised a brow.
    Okay, maybe that was going too far. She
didn’t know how to flirt, especially with an attractive man in his
midforties who wore a business suit as if it were a second skin.
Add to it the short dark hair with a smattering of gray just like
Clay’s, well, in a word, he was exactly what she was looking
for.
    And she’d blown it by being too forward.
“Sorry,” she said. “That just popped out. I wasn’t saving it, so
feel free.”
    He settled onto the barstool. “My lucky day
then.”
    Okay, that was a bit flirty. Maybe she hadn’t
blown it after all. She glanced in the mirror. Holt was still
talking, but Clay was watching her.
    Warmth spread through her belly. She stuck
out her hand. “I’m Linda.”
    He shook with a firm grip, warm skin, dry
palms, no wedding ring. “Mitch.”
    Mitch sounded real. She didn’t know why she’d
given him her friend’s name. “Here on business?”
    “Conference. What about you?”
    Trying to pick up a man so I can excite my
boss out of his mind. “Purely pleasure.” She smiled. Then she
thought of another game. “Actually business and pleasure.”
    He raised a brow again. “That deserves
explanation.”
    “Well...” She glanced around, making sure no
one was listening, then turned her gaze back to Clay in the mirror.
He was throwing a few bills on the table. Holt pushed them back and
threw down a few of his own, then rose from the booth.
    Clay was leaving, dammit. Then Holt gave a
mock salute and exited. Clay stayed right where he was. And looked
at her. Had he figured out she could see him in the mirror?
    “Well,” she went on, lowering her voice. “I’m
a working girl.”
    “What kind of work?” Mitch asked solemnly, as
if he’d never heard the term.
    “Wor- king ,” she enunciated clearly,
then noticed the sparkle in his blue eyes.
    “Ah,” he said, then signaled the bartender.
“I think I need a drink for this discussion.”
    The young man was there in an instant.
Because of her, she wondered? “Yes, sir?”
    “House scotch on the rocks.”
    Ooh, she liked him. Frugal. Jessica sipped
her wine.
    “All right, tell me more,” Mitch said after
the bartender left to make his drink .
    “What would you like to know?”
    “Do you come here often?”
    “I make the rounds.” She crossed her legs. He
watched the movement.
    “How many people are you with in one
night?”
    “Depends.”
    They paused as the bartender set his scotch
on the counter. The young man eyed her speculatively before heading
to the other end of the bar, where a waitress was waving at
him.
    “Cheers.” Mitch tipped his glass to her.
“Okay, depends on what?”
    “On how much time a man wants to spend.” So
far she hadn’t had anywhere near enough time with Clay. She wanted
hours, and she wanted them tonight.
    Mitch jiggled the ice in his glass. “Do you
do anything ?”
    “Well, yeah. I guess. Like what?”
    “Another woman?”
    She laughed. “Not that anything.”
    His mouth quirked in a half smile. “How about
two men at once?”
    She almost gaped, wondering if he was egging
her on. “Not at the same time, if you know what I mean. But
together in the same bed.” She thought of Clay. And Vince. One
doing this, the other doing that. Her skin flushed with the heat of
her imagination.
    Seeing it, Mitch’s eyes glittered like jewels
in the flicker of a nearby candle. “And what particular acts do you
do?”
    “Um, well.” She sat up straight. “No animals
or vegetables.”
    He laughed out