But tonight she didn’t care. She’d worn jeans, canvas slip-ons and her old gray hooded sweatshirt over a white tank top. Her underwear, including her bra, was boring beige. No one, man or woman, spared her a second glance, and she didn’t bother looking at them. She kept her eyes on the guacamole and her drink.
“How’s everything with the Ranger?” Olivia asked over the rim of her sangria.
Maggie looked up. Olivia had decided to dress for ladies’ night. A man would have to be blind to miss her friend’s bright orange blouse and white pencil skirt. “He’s driving me crazy.”
“You could ask him to leave.”
“I don’t want him to leave. I don’t have a book without him. That’s part of the problem.”
“And the other part?”
“I want to tear my clothes off every time I see him.”
“Not very professional.” Olivia caught their server’s attention and signaled for another round.
“He’s the one who started it. If he’d just stay at his motel.”
“To be fair, you started it. You’re the one who picked him up at the car show,” Olivia pointed out.
“I started a one-night stand. He’s trying to make it into something more.” Maggie set aside her empty second drink. Just saying those words made her body tingle with need. Or maybe that was the alcohol. She was starting to feel a little fuzzy. “I just keep wondering, what would happen if I let him?”
“Let him what?”
“Touch me. See me naked. Again,” Maggie said as the server deposited their drinks and scurried away into the crowd of women.
“You would have sex.” Olivia spoke loud enough for the table next to theirs to pause mid-conversation to listen.
“Liv, that’s part of the problem.” Maggie leaned forward, dropping her voice to a near whisper. “This isn’t just sex. He made me a promise.”
Olivia leaned in. “What sort of promise? And why are we whispering?”
“We’re in public.” She looked down at her drink. “And this is personal.”
“Go on.”
Maggie hesitated. But this was what best friends were for—spilling secrets over margaritas and asking for drunken advice. “He promised it would be better than my wildest dreams.”
“And this is a problem because?”
“I’ve never told you this.” Maggie met her friend’s questioning gaze. “I’ve never told anyone this. Except Hunter. But he didn’t count at the time because I never thought I’d see him again.” She paused and took a breath. “I have some pretty wild fantasies.”
“Good for you.” Olivia reached out and patted her hand. “You’re wound up so tight from all the pressure you put on yourself that sometimes I worry you might explode. Like I told you Saturday, sex is just what you need. Look at it this way, you’re simply searching for a way to vent your sexual frustration and explore your hidden desires so that you can concentrate on your work.”
When Olivia put it like that, it sounded completely sane. Why shouldn’t she have sex with Hunter? She wasn’t looking for a ring and a promise from him. As long as she knew that up front, what did she have to worry about? Olivia might be right, if she wanted to focus on her work, put her book first, she should sleep with him. She turned this logic over in her tequila-filled mind. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right. He offered to fulfill your fantasies, for goodness’ sake. Go get him!”
“I need to call a cab.” Maggie pushed back from the table and pulled her wallet out of her purse. Tossing a pair of twenties on the table, she looked at Olivia. “Will you be okay if I leave?”
“Go.” Olivia made a shooing motion with her hands. “Have sex. And don’t forget to come back for your car in the morning.”
Five minutes later, Maggie slid into a cab and gave the driver her address. Before she reached for her seat belt, she pulled her arms into her sweatshirt.
“Hey, lady, what are you doing back there?” the driver called.
Maggie met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Losing my bra. Just keep your eyes on the road.”
12