Page 31 of Mr. Scandalous

Mostly, she tried not to notice her body. She got in and out of the shower without turning her head toward the looking glass. She put on her clothes as quickly as possible and she never, ever slept in the nude.

But now she had to look and see her scars through fresh eyes. Had to see herself the way a stranger would see her.

Gingerly, she ran a hand down her abdomen and fingered the pink, uneven edges of the burn that started directly below her belly button and ran parallel to her hipbones.

The scar widened, flaring out to encompass her entire pelvic girdle and three inches down the tops of her thighs. Her pubic hair, which been singed off in the fire, had never grown back.

She was as bald as a hairless Chihuahua.

How’s this for edgy, Tori?

She tilted her head and turned slightly for a three-quarter view. A full Brazilian bikini wax wouldn’t have produced a muff this bare. Eden gave a sharp bark of laughter at the notion of women paying lots of money to achieve the same slick look. What she wouldn’t give to have her hair back. She missed the dark, curly trouser tresses.

Face facts. Upon first sight, anyone would find her pink, scarred mons unsettling.

Josh had certainly been unsettled. Correction. He’d been shocked.

Eden tried to squelch the memory, but it rose up anyway. It happened last year ago, but her shame stung as vividly as if the rejection had been yesterday.

It was her fourth date with Josh, and they’d been getting along really well. They liked the same music, read the same books and enjoyed the same restaurants. She’d only been mildly attracted to him sexually, but she’d had two glasses of wine over dinner and her resistance was down. When he’d suggested they end the night in her apartment, she’d thought why not?

The thing was, he knew about the fire. She’d told him about her wounds and the surgeries and still he hadn’t been prepared. He’d actually gagged when he’d seen the scars and instantly went from erect to flaccid in five seconds flat.

“I’m sorry, Eden,” he’d said, scrambling off her bed. She’d thrown the blankets over her nakedness, flattened that he’d found her so repulsive. “I tried to keep an open mind about this but—” he had slapped a palm over his mouth “—I can’t.”

And then he’d literally run from her apartment.

Eden brushed a tear from the corner of her eye.Stop crying over that jerk.But what if Alec felt the same way? What if he was unable to look past her disfigurement?

Fear clutched her.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go through with this fling. She was all bluff and false bravado.

“I can’t,” she said to her reflection.

You have to. You need him to get unblocked To save your biggest account.

“No more pain,” she whimpered. “I couldn’t bear it if he rejects me, too.”

Her scar was the real reason she’d insisted on the role-playing games and taking things step-by-step. To make absolutely certain she could trust him not to react negatively, but she couldn’t do this alone. She needed help. Emotional support. Encouragement.

Jayne. She would know what to do. Eden picked up the phone and called her adventurous friend for sex advice.

* * *

Be prepared for anything.

Eden’s parting words circled in Alec’s head—a dare, a challenge, a call to adventure. Did she have any idea how she’d piqued his interest and stirred his blood? His body prickled with anticipation.

She was an erotic mastermind.

On Tuesday evening, Alec perched on a camelback sofa in the lobby of the elegant Grand Duchess Hotel, the wallet in his hip pocket stuffed with condoms as his fingers nervously drummed against his kneecap.

For the ninety-ninth time in the span of ten minutes, he checked his watch. Seven minutes after seven. Where was she? Had he been stood up?

A flash of red on the sidewalk outside the window caught his attention and Alec turned for a better look.

The big-haired blonde strutted down the sidewalk, all sass and spicy attitude. She wore a stretchy blouse so low-cut it oughta be illegal, and her glorious, look-fellas-no-bra breasts bounced high with each step she took.

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