LITMIR.BIZ

      EVEN AS A BAD GIRL, lies didn’t come easy to Audra. She hadn’t been able to admit another failure, so when she’d sashayed back into the club, she’d smiled and let her friends assume she’d done the deed.

      Five blood-pumping dances and an order of nachos hadn’t blunted her sexual frustration. Finally tired of the unearned congratulations from Suzi and Bea, and the unspoken judgment of Isabel, she’d told the girls she was heading out. It would’ve been a clean break if not for the fact that she was Isabel’s ride home.

      Now, with her oldest friend in the passenger seat next to her, Audra flew down the freeway toward Auburn and the small neighborhood they’d grown up in.

      Unlike Suzi and Bea, Isabel was into the whole focus-on-building-a-career thing. She’d taken over her parents’ florist shop and was looking for ways to turn it from a small-town posey-pusher into one of the area’s prominent florists.

      Audra and Isabel had grown up next door to each other, both living over their parents’ business. That Isabel had lived over the florist and Audra over a bar probably played into their personalities a bit. As a child, Isabel had been quiet, sweet and a little pudgy. Audra? She’d always been trouble.

      Somehow, the two balanced each other out, though.

      “Congratulations again on netting that deal with the mall,” Audra said, remembering Isabel’s earlier news. “You’ve been trying to snag that account for almost a year now. That’s great that it finally came together.”

      They shared a smile. It was obviously a night to celebrate career achievements. Then Audra remembered the by-product of her latest achievement, her failure to live up to the code of the Wicked Chicks, and her mouth drooped.

      “There’s nothing wrong with being ambitious, Audra,” Isabel said, obviously misreading her expression and figuring her frustration was career-focused. After all, for Isabel, most things were. “You worked your butt off going to school full-time and working in the boutique, too. You deserved to celebrate your success.”

      “Designing vanilla fluff.”

      “Oh, c’mon. Don’t let that kind of defeatist thinking take hold. You have to start somewhere. How many people can claim the title of head designer right out of school? So you’re not creating quite the kind of thing you want. Put in your time, pay your dues, and you’ll be there soon enough.”

      Audra lifted her chin and pulled back her shoulders. Right. She’d get there. Damned if she wouldn’t.

      “Did you want to read that book I was telling you about yesterday?” Isabel asked, referring to the latest motivational tome she’d discovered. Audra had to hand it to her friend: Isabel was just as confident and determined to make her business a success as the Wicked Chicks were to live life to the fullest.

      “Nah, I’ll let you read it and give me the rundown, as always,” Audra said with a wink.

      Instead of her usual nod of agreement, Isabel frowned.

      “You know,” she said hesitantly, “you might want to read it yourself. Maybe it’d help you figure out why you agreed to debase yourself with meaningless sex, just for the sake of a girls’ club you’ve outgrown.”

      “Debase?” Audra asked, ignoring the club reference, “What’s so debasing about doing a hot, sexy guy?” Now, if she’d had to do that geek, well, that would’ve been beyond debasing. But Jesse? Her mouth still watered at the memory of his fingers, his lips. Oh, God. His tongue. She squirmed in her seat and shook her head at Isabel. “Look, I like sex. Just because you’re trying out this chastity thing doesn’t mean my choices are wrong.”

      “But this wasn’t your choice, Audra. Why do you let them push you into those dares? I thought you said you were glad you’d grown out of that type of thing.”

      Audra’s jaw worked. So what if she’d backslid a little? It wasn’t just that Suzi and Bea were two of her closest friends. Her image, the sexy persona she’d developed in her teens, defined her. It made her special. Made her more than the pitiful little castoff of dismal parents who fought over her custody. Not over who got to keep her, but over who had to keep her.

      It gave her control. Over herself, her life, the people around her. Isabel just didn’t get that. She had two parents who adored her, who thought she’d hung the moon. Sure, she’d dealt with her share of crap growing up. But not like Audra.

      Unlike the Wicked Chicks, Isabel preferred to stay in the background, to live the quiet life. In a lot of ways, it was amazing she and Audra had been able to maintain their friendship all these years.

      Especially in the face of snotty-ass attitudes like she was currently copping.

      “Look, Audra, I’m not judging you.”

      At Audra’s sneer, she shrugged and admitted, “Okay, maybe a little. But that’s just, you know…me. I don’t get the whole sex-without-emotions thing.”

      “Emotions can’t be trusted. Not when it comes to men,” Audra stated adamantly as she pulled off the freeway. She’d learned that the hard way. The only guy she even considered semireliable was her brother. And that was more because she trusted his wife than out of any deep faith in him sticking around.

      “Think of guys like dessert. Some you want to spend a lot of time on, savor. Get to know, maybe try a few more times to see if they’re as good as you remember. Others are like M&M’s. Quick, easy and clean. An easy between-meal treat that satisfies, but isn’t really worth remembering afterward.”

      Isabel’s laughter gurgled out, as Audra had intended. She glanced over and gave her friend a wink. Isabel rolled her eyes and shrugged. They’d been through over this same ground too many times before. They knew the drill.

      Audra focused on negotiating streets she knew like the back of her hand. Finally, she pulled up in front of the small building that housed Isabel’s flower shop and her apartment above. Audra’s gaze landed on the neon lights flashing beer logos in the windows of the Good Times Sports Bar.

      The difference in the two was as glaring-bright. Audra’s brother, Drew, had taken over the bar after their father died. He’d put some effort into cleaning it up, but it was still a bar. Its edgy brick facade was in sharp contrast to the pale green florist

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