Brash by Nicola Marsh

Turner, Vivien Leigh. Gorgeous .
     
    When Jess had fantasized her seduction scene, she hadn’t banked on the island humidity making the silk stockings stick to her legs like taffy and the satin corset making breathing difficult.
    She also hadn’t counted on the sheer discomfort of it all. How did the Bombshells wear this stuff on stage and prance around without wanting to tear it all off?
    The lace knickers chaffed, the garter rubbed, the stockings slipped and the corset constricted to the point of making her dizzy. At this rate she’d be naked before he arrived. A move guaranteed to make him run.
    No, she had a subtler plan in mind. Sexy stuff on the inside, respectable on the outside. But not too respectable. Enough to give him a glimpse of what he could have if he followed through on the underlying attraction simmering between them.
    The simple primrose shift sundress would do the trick. Short enough to ride up a tad and reveal the lace-topped stockings and garter. Deep V in the back to reveal corset ribbons when she leaned forward.
    Perfect.
    She also had work spread across the dining table, the wedding portfolio bulging to the brim with samples and seating plans and reams of paper, with her laptop booted up and displaying the virtual cake table she’d devised from snippets Zazz had provided.
    All very businesslike, all very legit.
    It was what would happen afterward that would blow her mind.
    And his.
    Jess glanced at the villa’s entrance hall floor-to-ceiling mirror and performed a little shimmy. She looked like a sunflower swaying in the breeze. Bright. Vibrant. Happy.
    Nothing like the promise of sensational sex to bring out a bloom in a girl’s cheeks.
    On cue, the doorbell rang and with one hand behind her back, fingers crossed for luck, she opened the door.
    Jack’s eyes widened a fraction as his gaze flicked over her and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
    “You look like you’re dressed for a sunny day at the office,” he said, clutching his portfolio tighter, like he half expected her to haul him into the villa and have her wicked way with him.
    She would. Later. When she’d lulled him into a false sense of security.
    “We’re having a business meeting; I thought it appropriate to dress the part.” She opened the door wide and beckoned him in, biting back a laugh at his wariness as he eased past her. “Drink?”
    “Sparkling water, please.”
    She registered his relief when he caught sight of the work strewn across the table. Sucker , she wanted to yell, but settled for a sedate smile as she added ice to their glasses and topped up with water.
    “Thanks.” He took the glass she proffered and rolled it across his forehead before draining half in a two gulps. “Damn humidity.”
    “Is it making your hair frizz?” She deadpanned, glancing at his hair, thinking it looked perfect: finger tousled and mussed and sexy.
    He laughed. “You’re one to talk. Remember those crazy hairstyles you had in the outback because of the heat?”
    She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t remind me.”
    But she didn’t mean it. She wanted to be reminded of their time in the outback. Wanted to re-establish the incredible bond they’d shared.
    “Remember I almost convinced you to smear kangaroo poo through it to tame the fly-aways?”
    “Bull. I never fell for your crap,” she said, knowing she had. But it wasn’t his teasing barbs she’d fallen for as much as the whole package.
    She needed to remember how he’d rejected her regardless. It would keep this interlude between them purely physical. Sex with no strings. Her shot at proving Max had been wrong and she wasn’t frigid.
    Yeah, Jack would be perfect to kick-start her new sensual side but she’d be a fool to see a trip down memory lane as anything but a few shared moments that had no bearing on here and now.
    Her reticence must’ve showed on her face for his grin faded and he flipped open his portfolio, slid out a few sheets and passed them to