sexy red thong, walked to the full-length mirror, and held it to her hips. “That’s not what I mean and you know it. Why don’t you just model the line yourself?” Megan turned sideways, checking herself from all angles. “With all your curves, you have a better body for modeling lingerie than those celery sticks you hire anyway.”
Just then the door bell chimed and a noise inside the kitchen gained Jenna’s attention. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She shot Megan a smile, thankful that she didn’t have to rehash their same old argument. How many times did she have to tell her friends that parading her scantily clad body in front of other men and women ranked right up there with injecting herself with the Ebola virus? Heck, who was she kidding? She would choose the Ebola hands down.
Unlike her sexy, athletic friend, Megan, who was confident enough to take a strength training–pole dancing class with a group of other women, Jenna preferred to keep things low-key.
Jenna knew that for all appearances she was a bold, confident business woman. One who’d taken her small town in Iowa by storm when she designed her own clothes and opened her first boutique. Unfortunately, even though she’d shed weight, lost the braces, and discovered contacts, on the inside she was still that chubby little girl who hid behind baggy shirts and droopy drawers. The nickname the boys had given her back in grade school, the same name that had followed her through high school, rushed through her mind. Instead of Jenna Powers, they’d called her “Jenna Bow Wow-ers.” It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out what “bow wow” stood for.
As Jenna made her way into the kitchen, she walked past the floor-length mirror and shot herself a glance. She tossed her long chestnut hair over her shoulders and narrowed her green eyes for a closer inspection. Tonight she’d abandoned her loose-fitting casual clothes and opted for a formfitting business suit, because she wanted to project a professional image. Some might see a tall, curvaceous woman, one with confidence and style, but Jenna saw something entirely different. She could never dispel the image that had been ingrained into her over the years. And at twenty-nine years of age, she assumed nothing or no one could ever change that.
She stepped into the kitchen and scanned the room, noting that Dean was nowhere to be found. She also noted that he’d left behind his unique signature scent—one that turned her knees to pudding and made her feel all hot and bothered inside. She inhaled, letting it curl through her bloodstream, letting it arouse her libido.
Before she did something stupid, like moan, Jenna turned her attention to the waiflike model leaning against the kitchen counter, Cassie by her side, a concerned look on her face. Jenna glanced at how the girl was clutching her stomach and stopped dead in her tracks. Oh, no! This was not good. Not good at all.
“Are you okay?” Jenna asked, stepping close enough to press her palm to the woman’s forehead.
“I’m Kate,” she said, thrusting a wobbly hand out. “Kate Saunders. Sorry I’m late. I’m not usually late,” she rushed on, her glossy eyes unsteady, and her face growing whiter and pastier by the second.
“Kate, you don’t look so good.”
“I went to a dinner party last evening and I think I might have eaten something that didn’t agree with me.” Kate swallowed and glanced around the room, panic apparent in her expression. “Um, Cassie, can you help me to the bathroom?”
Cassie set her glass of wine on the table and grabbed Kate by the elbow. “Let’s go.” A few seconds later, Jenna cringed as the sounds of one very sick Kate reached her ears.
“I guess that settles it then,” Megan said, plunking herself into a chair next to Sara, who had a wide grin on her face despite the wretched sounds coming from the bathroom. Of course, Sara hadn’t stopped smiling since she’d
Just then the door bell chimed and a noise inside the kitchen gained Jenna’s attention. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She shot Megan a smile, thankful that she didn’t have to rehash their same old argument. How many times did she have to tell her friends that parading her scantily clad body in front of other men and women ranked right up there with injecting herself with the Ebola virus? Heck, who was she kidding? She would choose the Ebola hands down.
Unlike her sexy, athletic friend, Megan, who was confident enough to take a strength training–pole dancing class with a group of other women, Jenna preferred to keep things low-key.
Jenna knew that for all appearances she was a bold, confident business woman. One who’d taken her small town in Iowa by storm when she designed her own clothes and opened her first boutique. Unfortunately, even though she’d shed weight, lost the braces, and discovered contacts, on the inside she was still that chubby little girl who hid behind baggy shirts and droopy drawers. The nickname the boys had given her back in grade school, the same name that had followed her through high school, rushed through her mind. Instead of Jenna Powers, they’d called her “Jenna Bow Wow-ers.” It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out what “bow wow” stood for.
As Jenna made her way into the kitchen, she walked past the floor-length mirror and shot herself a glance. She tossed her long chestnut hair over her shoulders and narrowed her green eyes for a closer inspection. Tonight she’d abandoned her loose-fitting casual clothes and opted for a formfitting business suit, because she wanted to project a professional image. Some might see a tall, curvaceous woman, one with confidence and style, but Jenna saw something entirely different. She could never dispel the image that had been ingrained into her over the years. And at twenty-nine years of age, she assumed nothing or no one could ever change that.
She stepped into the kitchen and scanned the room, noting that Dean was nowhere to be found. She also noted that he’d left behind his unique signature scent—one that turned her knees to pudding and made her feel all hot and bothered inside. She inhaled, letting it curl through her bloodstream, letting it arouse her libido.
Before she did something stupid, like moan, Jenna turned her attention to the waiflike model leaning against the kitchen counter, Cassie by her side, a concerned look on her face. Jenna glanced at how the girl was clutching her stomach and stopped dead in her tracks. Oh, no! This was not good. Not good at all.
“Are you okay?” Jenna asked, stepping close enough to press her palm to the woman’s forehead.
“I’m Kate,” she said, thrusting a wobbly hand out. “Kate Saunders. Sorry I’m late. I’m not usually late,” she rushed on, her glossy eyes unsteady, and her face growing whiter and pastier by the second.
“Kate, you don’t look so good.”
“I went to a dinner party last evening and I think I might have eaten something that didn’t agree with me.” Kate swallowed and glanced around the room, panic apparent in her expression. “Um, Cassie, can you help me to the bathroom?”
Cassie set her glass of wine on the table and grabbed Kate by the elbow. “Let’s go.” A few seconds later, Jenna cringed as the sounds of one very sick Kate reached her ears.
“I guess that settles it then,” Megan said, plunking herself into a chair next to Sara, who had a wide grin on her face despite the wretched sounds coming from the bathroom. Of course, Sara hadn’t stopped smiling since she’d
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