Chapter Four

“Let me get this straight,” said Chloe, leaning forward in her chair at a wooden table of their favorite lunch spot. “Just turn off my brain and let my body take charge? How the heck do I do that?”

“Grrr,” Jill growled, her face contorting. “Haven’t you ever just gone with the flow?”

“No.”

“Never skipped a step on that slow and steady dating schedule of yours?”

“U-uh. Nope.” Chloe blinked repeatedly. “I have a firm system that weeds out losers and keeps only the men with true potential for a long-term relationship.”

“Which means you actually date how many men in a calendar year?” Jill’s eyelids widened. A head tilt caused her blonde hair to hang at a flattering angle that Chloe could work for in front of a mirror and never achieve.

“I usually date at least one guy a year,” she said, crossing her arms and glancing out to the street. “Sometimes two.”

“So, you have one or two sex partners a year?” Jill’s mouth hung open as if she couldn’t believe anyone was truly that lame.

“No.” Chloe twisted a napkin in her lap. “Not every relationship lasts three months.” She took a sip of her iced green tea. “Some men aren’t willing to wait that long. But I’m a mature, independent woman, and I can take care of myself.”

“You must go through a ton of batteries.” Jill’s comment was muttered around a forkful of salad.

“Hmm?”

Jill swallowed. “Never mind,” she said, sipping her diet soda. “We’ll start at the beginning. I’ll pretend you’re fresh out of high school and ready to learn the secrets of what happens between adult men and women.”

“Geez,” Chloe said, huffing. “I understand the mechanics of sex.”

Jill raised her index finger to indicate school was in session. “Just saying, ‘the mechanics of sex’”—her voice took on a robotic tone—“tells me how much you don’t understand. Lesson number one from Jill Whitney’s guide to Seducing for Dummies. If it feels good—do it. If his hand on your thigh feels good? Then let him slide those fingers higher. If his tongue in your ear feels good? Then let that tongue explore everywhere. Let your body lead you where it wants to go. Which should be to the penthouse of the pleasure palace.”

Chloe coughed and tried to swallow the mouthful of salad she’d begun eating. The lettuce stuck in her throat. A sip of tea slid the mouthful down, and she whispered, “I’m not sure I’ve ever been in the parking lot, let alone to the penthouse you’re referring to.”

“Oh, my, God. Do not tell me you’ve never had an orgasm.”

“Of course, I have,” she said, wanting to be brutally honest, but fear of being ridiculed made her pause. If she couldn’t trust Jill, she might as well start collecting cats. “I just haven’t reached that floor with a partner.” There. The truth was out. Heat rushed over her neck and across her cheeks. If Jill laughed, the whole seducing Constantine plan was going into the nearest trashcan.

“Chloe … Chloe.” The sound of her name broke through her bubble of mortification.

Her friend’s gentle features displayed compassion. No indications of ridicule marred her face.

“That’s more common than you might think. Women are excellent at faking it. We don’t want to bruise a man’s ego. However, men don’t learn anything that way.”

Insecurity and self-doubt about her sex appeal kept Chloe from voicing her true needs with men. What if her inclinations were considered weird? Instead, she accepted whatever small pleasures came with the act.

“Guilty,” she said. “I never thought about it like that before. I’m a mediocre sex enabler.”

“Ha.” Jill laughed. “Mediocre sex enabler. I’ll have to add that as a chapter to my manual.” She grinned, crinkling her nose in a juvenile way that belied her usual woman-of-the-world persona. “A sense of humor is great. When it comes to all things relating to the opposite sex, you have to remember we’re all just human. Love and intimacy can make you crazy. Better to laugh than drive yourself cuckoo with anxiety.”

“You are so wise,” said Chloe. “I’m humbled by your enlightenment.” Repeated bows followed.

“Okay, enough admiration. You, my friend, need a wild sexual encounter. And I’m happy to be your wing-woman.”

Sudden panic rushed adrenaline through her veins. What if Constantine took one look at Jill and decided he’d rather send his smoldering interest in her direction?

“But what if he wants you?” The legitimate concern had to be addressed. Every man wanted Jill. She lit up any room she entered with her bright smile, big blue eyes, and statuesque figure.

“Nonsense.” Her long blonde hair swung side to side with perfect sheen. A graceful hand shoved at the air to whisk away Chloe’s remark. “If I bring Kyle, no man will hit on me.”

“That’s true.”

The museum seemed the least likely place to meet a hunk with Kyle’s broad shoulders and muscular build. But, of course, Jill could find a pearl in any patch of ocean she swam.

“Hey, speaking of Kyle. What gives?”

“Hmm?” Her friend suddenly became engrossed in her Cobb salad. A large forkful of lettuce and tomato went into her mouth. Her brows lifted and she chewed.

“Although I love the visual that elephant thong brought,” Chloe said, “you really didn’t tell me anything else about your night. And after checking my calendar, I noticed you’ve been seeing him for over a week. Yet, it kinda sounded like last night was the first time you two got busy.”

Jill shrugged and took another large bite of salad.

“Okay, it’s obvious you’re starving. But I do expect honesty about this new relationship at some point.”

Her friend’s eyes rolled at the word relationship and she continued eating.

Wow. Her world had shifted. Uninhibited and wild Jill seemed to be settling down. And Chloe was ready to break out of her repressed lifelong role as a good girl. Lust for the tall, dark, and sinfully handsome Constantine caused her to squirm. She wanted him bad.

All the stern protocols which kept her hands neatly folded in her lap and her legs clamped shut were falling away. Just one time, she wanted to be with a man who could take her out of her head and into the moment. Constantine seemed to radiate with endless possibilities for reaching the penthouse of her sexual desires.

If she were wrong? Well, then she’d have a new experience to add to her short list of impulsive decisions. Not since getting drunk on tequila at a high school graduation party had she truly let go. Sure, she regretted the hangover that accompanied the overindulgent night. But she never regretted the fun she had in the proceeding hours.

She doubted fooling around with the man who was sexual kryptonite to her self-control would cause regrets. Whether the elevator took her to the penthouse of pleasure or not, the climb would be one for her permanent memory file.

No regrets. No matter what the consequences.