San Francisco and Isabel’s florist shop was flourishing.
“How come your jobs aren’t the issue here?” Audra asked.
“We are able to maintain a balance between our jobs and our real lives,” Suzi said in perfect imitation of an upper-class snob.
“And what am I doing?”
“You’re building a career,” Bea pointed out quietly. She said it as if Audra were building a weapon of mass destruction, her voice a combination of bemusement, aversion and fear.
“Why shouldn’t Audra build a career? She’s a great designer. This is her dream opportunity. Aren’t you excited for her?” Isabel asked in a surprised tone. Her gray eyes flashed as indignation built. “Don’t you guys think you’re being a little unfair?”
“Fair, schmair,” Suzi shot back. “Friends don’t let friends blow their prime years chasing careers. That’s the kind of crap you do later…after you’ve lost your sexual mojo.”
Audra tuned out the inevitable debate between Isabel and Suzi over sexual status, aging, equal rights and staying true to friends. It was old news.
She bit back a scream. All she’d ever heard from her older brother was how her friends were trouble and would screw up her life. Isabel was always nagging her to set goals and prioritize her plans. And now she was hearing from her friends that she wasn’t one of them anymore because she was trying to build a future. Not one damn person in her life was willing to simply accept her. All of her.
“I can have both a career and my friends,” Audra insisted. Wasn’t that the women’s right of the new millennium? She could have it all? It wasn’t as if Audra was looking to add a husband or anything stupid like that to the mix.
“Some career.”
“I design lingerie,” Audra pointed out, matching Suzi’s sneer with one of her own. “That’s hardly at odds with my Wicked Chick designation.”
“You’ve always wanted to design sexy, wild lingerie,” Suzi pointed out. And she’d know, since she and Bea spent years listening to Audra daydream about it, never once discouraging her.
“Instead,” Suzi continued, “you settled for vanilla-sweet nighties for virginal brides.”
“Everyone has to start somewhere,” Isabel interjected in Audra’s defense.
Before Suzi could retaliate, Bea pressed her hands to the table, bloodred nails spread like claws against the faux leather surface.
“Enough of this crap.” The mellowest of them all, her distaste for the bickering and one-upmanship was clear on her face. “Audra, this is an intervention. You either prove you’re still one of us, or you lose your Wicked Chick status.”
Isabel gasped. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Prove myself?” Oh jeez, it was junior high school all over again.
Suzi leaned forward with a challenging gleam shining in her midnight-blue eyes. “Prove yourself.”
Audra rolled her eyes. “How? Outdrink you two? Dance topless on stage? Give up my job?”
Audra tossed the words out in an airy, unconcerned tone. But her insides twisted at the thought of either the first or the last. Given that she’d started her drinking in her early teens, she figured she’d done more than enough partying. That, and she’d watched what drinking had done to her mother, leaving her old and haggard-looking by forty. The booze wouldn’t do Audra’s skin, or her health, a bit of good. And she planned to keep both long into the future. Two drinks were her limit now, although she did a good job of hiding that from her friends.
And quit her job? Oh, God, no. She loved that job. Loved designing lingerie. She couldn’t think of anything more satisfying than starting with a vision in her head, turning it into a reality and seeing a woman prance out of the boutique empowered by the result. They couldn’t—wouldn’t—be crazy enough to think she’d give that up.
“How about all thr—”
“No, much simpler,” Bea interrupted with a dark look at the blonde. Suzi sat back with a huff and a roll of her eyes.
Audra waited. The music pounded a heavy beat around her, the cacophony of voices blending with the percussions.
“I dare you…” Bea began.
Oh, hell, she should have known.
“…to do the next guy to come through the door.”
“This is silly,” Isabel stated. Her gray eyes flashed with rare anger. She crossed her arms over her chest, her sweater pulling tight to curves she tended to hide, rather than display like the other three women. “Haven’t you outgrown that silly game? I thought your club was all about empowerment, not pressure. Audra’s your friend. She doesn’t have to do anything to prove herself.”
A voice in Audra’s head agreed. She didn’t have to. Like drinking, impersonal sex had long since lost its appeal. She could have just as good a time with her vibrator as with most guys. And at least her “D-celled” friend guaranteed she’d come. Swear to God, most guys didn’t seem to know the difference between the G-spot and a parking spot.
But if she didn’t, she’d be saying goodbye to something vital. Not just her friendships were on the line here, Audra realized with a start. So was her sense of self. The badass, wild part of her seemed to be fading away. And she didn’t have a clue what, if anything, she’d find underneath.
“Hey, no problem. I never mind scratching that particular itch.”
Ignoring Isabel’s disappointed look, she gave the girls a wink, tossed back the last of her strawberry margarita and straightened her shoulders. Turning on the barstool, she leaned her elbows back on the table, faced the door and sent up a prayer that the next guy through knew how to park.
Holy cow. She eyed the sexy hunk standing in the doorway and exhaled a deep sigh of appreciation. Oh, yeah, he’d not only know how to park, but she’d bet he was hell on wheels. Audra took inventory, starting at what she estimated to be size twelve biker boots. Her gaze took a slow, appreciative tour up well-worn denim, lingering on a few particularly worn places.
Very nice.
She continued her tour over a well-defined chest and—m’m m’m good—perfect shoulders. The sleeves of the denim work shirt were rolled up to the elbows, and it was buttoned about halfway up to showcase that chest, wide and lightly dusted with a sprinkling of dark hair. How would that hair feel against her cheek? Soft and sensual? Wiry and erotic? Did it thicken as it meandered down his belly? Or did it taper to a very delicious point?
If he’d hurry up and walk through the door, she could find out. Anticipation made Audra antsy. She shifted in her seat and held her breath while her gaze rose to his face.
Oh, baby. Eyes half-mast, a wave of lust-induced appreciation crashed through her system. Now that was one hot man. Black hair tumbled around a face just this side of pretty. His full lower lip promised a sensual nature and, although she couldn’t see his eyes in any detail, the man had cheekbones to die for. The only thing that saved him from being girly-pretty was a stubborn jaw and his nose, obviously broken a
