Free Girl Gear 4: Striptease by Alison Kent Page B

dumped her beer on the lawn?
    And why the hell did Jacob have to look like an incredibly rich dessert, best avoided but impossible to resist?
    Today he wore denim shorts, leather sandals and a plain gray athletic shirt. Ankles crossed, he’d hooked one arm over the chair’s headrest and draped the other across his middle on his very flat, very fit abs.
    Melanie wasn’t going to allow her gaze to drift lower. Seeing his forearm and his hand resting at the waistband of his shorts, and seeing his fingers tucked beneath the edge, was already giving her fits.
    Between her tight throat, the afternoon humidity and his position’s tempting invitation to climb on top, breathing had become extremely difficult. His body was absolutely remarkable, nearly perfect except for the way his knees slightly bowed.
    She was glad for that, glad to see that he was human, after all, because she’d had at least two beers too many and found herself dizzily elevating him to the status of a god.
    A long-tongued chameleon sex god.
    And that just wouldn’t do.
    She cleared her throat and continued to act as if nothing simmered between them but the humid afternoon air. “Chloe seems to have grown out of that. Now if she gets mad, you know it’s for a very goodreason. Or at least a reason she deems good enough. Which, now that I think about it, is why she can seem to be mad about everything all of the time.”
    Okay, Melanie. Close your mouth before you get totally stupid. She was babbling, waiting nervously for the bomb to drop. For all she could tell, the ticking hadn’t even begun. At least Jacob’s ticking. Hers hadn’t let up since he’d walked through the gate.
    Jacob, on the other hand, was stretched out on the lounger looking half-asleep, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. As if he hadn’t heard a word she’d just said. As if he hadn’t received her package, after all. Or watched her strip down to her skin before she’d shut off the camera to finish her fun.
    Melanie stifled the groan working its way up her throat. She knew he was pulling her leg. The fact that he was so very good at pretending gave him away. No one could have looked at her the way he had not fifteen minutes ago and then fallen fast asleep.
    She glanced toward the DVD player he’d tucked between his legs. Right where she couldn’t help but see it and have her curiosity raised. “Was that part of the documentary you were showing to Sydney and Poe earlier?”
    “Yeah. Just a few extra minutes of footage around the office.”
    “Could I take a look?” She was dying to see how much of her antagonism—both real and faux—toward Mr. Cameraman here had actually come across on tape.
    He seemed to hesitate for a second or two, then said, “Sure,” and sat straighter in the chair, pulling the mini DVD player from the carrier and into his lap. Heloaded one of several stored disks, handing her a pair of headphones he dug from a pocket in the case.
    She took them, but lifted a brow in question. He shrugged. “Speakers on the player aren’t worth crap. They’re tinny as hell, and forget picking up the stereo.”
    “Okay,” she said, and he plugged them into the audio jack and hit Play before handing her the device.
    Setting the compact player on her lap, she adjusted the volume, joining the group interview in progress, thinking as she watched that gIRL-gEAR’s seven female partners really did make for a compelling picture of success.
    The host was asking a question of Sydney, and the rest of the women laughed. Jacob had done a great job capturing the group’s comfort level. They knew one another well, and it showed.
    The screen suddenly went dark, then turned to snow. Just as Melanie reached up to remove her headphones, the picture came back. But what she was looking at was no longer the office conference room.
    No, she was looking at her condo’s spare bedroom, at the white walls and the shadow female figure kneeling on the floor. Through the headphones, she