Every girl has a goody drawer.

Sex toy party hostess Liv Tanaka has a collection. Vibrating purple rabbits, cherry-flavored edible underwear, flavored oils... Hey, wearing a leather corset and stilettos (while selling dildos) pays the bills. Just don’t tell her very conservative parents. Because if they discovered Liv’s sex-toy-selling “Asian Elvira” alter ego, her parents would disown her.

So far, Liv’s doing a bang-up job of keeping her two worlds separate...until Porter Benjamin shows up at her party. Tall and too-tasty-to-resist Porter, who works for her father. Porter, who wants Liv to host a party just for him.

And oh, she’s tempted. But getting involved with Porter means mixing those two worlds that Liv desperately needs to keep separate. And now Liv’s Naughty Toybox is starting to look a lot like Pandora’s box....

For Michael Dean

Boys and Toys

Cara Lockwood

Contemporary, sexy stories for sassy women

Cosmo Red-Hot Reads from Mills & Boon

www.millsandboon.co.uk/Cosmo

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Dedication

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

About the Author

Submission Guidelines

Copyright

Chapter One

Liv’s heart beat madly as she stood in the living room of the upscale penthouse, dressed in her work uniform of a push-up leather corset paired with sky-high stilettos. Her almond-shaped eyes, lined with smoky gray liner, focused on the man in front of her, a thirty something day trader wearing a Lacoste polo and faded jeans. He looked down at her hands, eyes wide, as she clasped the shaft, running a finger sensually over the top, causing his mouth to drop open in a small O. She knew she had him right there, in the flick of her blood red nail over the tip. He’d be all hers.

“How much again?” he asked her, sounding nervous.

“Sixty,” Liv Tanaka said brightly, her pouty red lips curving up in a smile. They both stared at the enormous vibrating purple dildo she held in her hand.

“I’ll take it,” he said, nodding vigorously, and the whole room laughed. Some bachelor party guests hooted and sent wadded-up napkins Paul’s way. Paul, the groom-to-be, flushed a deeper shade of red, helped along by the beers he’d already drunk in the confines of his luxury penthouse on Chicago’s Gold Coast. Still, he happily handed over a bunch of twenties to Liv, who rolled them up neatly and put them down the front of her corset. She may have come dressed as part-Asian Elvira, but she definitely showed that 100 percent sex sells.

“That’ll make Carrie happy!” one of the other guys shouted.

“Careful, Paul, she might want to marry that instead of you!” the best man said, and the room roared with laughter again.

“Why is it so big?” Paul lamented, as he held an oversize vibrator in his hand.

“You feeling intimidated, Paul?” the best man joked.

Conversation happily buzzed as Liv went about showing her wares: dildos, edible panties, flavored oils. She wore a short skirt, as per usual, and her legs were bare. She could feel the eyes of some guys on the ever-rising hem of her spandex skirt, but the partygoers, all in their early thirties, were mostly behaving themselves, and she was beginning to think her reservations about taking on a bachelor party were unfounded. Up until now, she’d said no to most of them—she preferred to be in a roomful of girls or a small number of couples. She didn’t trust a room of all boys to behave themselves.

But the groom-to-be was a friend of her roommate’s so she knew him and his fiancée, and Liv was glad she’d said yes. She’d made enough in the last hour to pay her rent this month. So far, the party was topping the bachelorette one last month, and the couples therapy party the month before that.

As she sold some warming lube to the best man she thought, as she had many times before, that if her Chinese mother or Japanese father ever caught wind of her “job,” she’d be banned from Thanksgiving for the rest of her life.

But she’d tried to find work with her marketing degree, and so far had failed miserably.

* * *

Her dad had offered her a job at the law firm, of course, right out of school, but the last thing Liv wanted to do was spend all her time in her father’s shadow or tucked away in some file room. When her good friend Kat had retired from the sex toy business last year, deciding to ditch it and go to law school, Liv needed serious convincing to take it over. What did she know about sex toys? She’d never even owned one before.

Besides that, she’d only ever had sex with two guys, anyhow.

There’d been her clumsy college boyfriend of six months who’d left her for a girl who lived down the hall in the dorm, and her second—a random hook-up from a neighbor’s party—had been quick and blah and ended with him asking her if she would do him the favor of not sleeping over.

But, as it turned out, hosting sex parties was easier than having sex. It was playing a role, just like during her college stage days when she flirted with majoring in drama. Nobody expected her to deliver, and she found she liked acting naughty. It was the first time she’d ever really gotten the chance, if she was honest with herself.

Plus, the hours were flexible, the pay was great, and she wouldn’t have to move in with Mom and Dad. It also gave her plenty of time during the day to go in for interviews. If she dressed up in a leather corset and heels on weekends, who cared? What her parents didn’t know wouldn’t kill them. She’d been an angel throughout high school, never seriously rebelling. She was long overdue some naughtiness, she thought.

The bachelor party was starting to get rowdy as two of the guests began a mock sword fight with pink vibrators. A knock on the door signaled a late arrival, and Paul got up to let him in.

“Hey, Liv, what are these for?” One of the guests held up two metal balls on a black string; pleasure balls, à la Fifty Shades of Grey.

“Those were made famous by Christian Grey,” she said, grinning. “Ladies wear them.”

“How?” the best man asked.

“How do you think?” Liv smiled devilishly as she took the silver balls from his hand and held them vertically, giving them a little nudge upward.

“No way! Inside?” Paul’s eyes grew larger than the silver balls Liv held. He had returned to the living room with the new arrival, a tall, broad-shouldered man in a baseball cap and jeans who stood next to Paul by the couch. There was something familiar about him, Liv thought, but his cap was pulled down over his face.

“She puts those up there? Seriously?” One of the guests shook his head.

“They find the G-spot, so you don’t have to,” Liv sang, and the boys laughed. The new guest eyed her from behind the couch. She felt her neck flush a little. He was moving closer, toward the table of toys.

“I’m getting some,” the best man declared, jumping up from the couch.

“Now you’ll finally have some balls, Preston!” one of the others teased.

The stranger was near her now, and she could see him out of the corner of her eye. He grabbed a massive purple rabbit vibrator from the table.

“Okay, fellas, next up we’ve got flavored lubes,” Liv said as she picked up some neon-colored bottles. The men hooted and hollered. “I’m going to pass out a few sample bottles. Don’t get too crazy on me now...” Liv handed Paul some samples to distribute.

The new guest moved to her side, eyeing the contents of her table.

“Whoa,” the stranger said, holding the oversize vibrator in his hands. “What’s this one called?”

“That’s the rabbit...” Liv took the latex-covered vibrator from the man and looked up, and then the rest of the sentence dried up on her tongue. She stood frozen, clutching the thing, in front of Porter Benjamin: a junior partner at her father’s law firm. He looked so different wearing the baseball cap and sweatshirt—she only ever saw him in expensive dark suits.

Liv’s stomach tightened, and a cold sweat broke out instantly on the back of her neck. Porter knew her family. Porter knew her dad. And she was in a leather corset and stilettos holding a purple vibrator, in a roomful of sex toys.

Porter was still looking at the rabbit and hadn’t yet made eye contact with her. Liv considered simply walking out the door, leaving her $1,000 in merchandise sitting in Paul’s living room. But then she’d be out $1,000, and the other $250 Paul owed her at the end of the night, plus anything she managed to sell before then. She couldn’t afford to walk away, and she knew it.

Then Porter glanced up at her, and a smile of recognition formed on his face. Too late to run, anyway, she thought.

“Olivia! I thought that was you.”

“Porter,” Olivia said almost grimly, and nodded.

“So...uh...you’re...selling...?” Porter’s eyes glanced around the room at the various sex toys, his eyes widening in surprise.

Oh, God. This was not good. Her first instinct was to lie. She had amnesia. Her body had been taken over by aliens. She was not somehow Liv Tanaka, sex toy goddess. But staring at Porter’s sharp brown eyes, his defined chin, she knew he would not buy any of that. He was friends with Paul, and Paul knew she did this for a living. She couldn’t even say she was filling in for a friend.

“That’s right,” Olivia said, as brightly as she could muster. No sense in acting ashamed now. She was holding a giant vibrator.

“That sounds like fun.” Porter looked down at her outfit, his gaze roaming up her body appreciatively. “Wow, Olivia, I have to say...you look...”

Liv felt her face burn. The last time Porter had seen her, it was at a family picnic at her parents’ house the past summer. She’d worn her face bare, her jet-black hair in a hasty ponytail, with jeans and Converse sneakers. Her mom didn’t even approve of lipstick, so makeup was out of the question. Both parents had started going to a new, more conservative protestant church in the last ten years, so premarital sex and makeup were sinful, in her mom’s opinion, as were flirting with boys, French-kissing, dancing, and drinking. Anything constituting a life.

If Porter told her parents what she was wearing, and in a roomful of men, most of whom were single...

“You look...amazing,” he finally finished, nodding. “I mean...wow.” His glance moved to the table behind her, filled with every kind of X-rated toy you could imagine: anal beads, cock rings, lube in a rainbow of flavors, and, of course, giant dildos and vibrators ranging from mini-size to, well...supersize—all realistically molded, complete with thick, thrumming veins. Porter barely restrained a smile as his eyes roamed the table. Liv might not have been as religious as her mother, but right at that moment, she prayed she could drop through the floor.

“Is this lube latex-safe?” one guest asked, holding up a bright yellow neon bottle of banana-flavored oil.

“Uh...” Liv was still off balance as Porter grinned at her. She glanced down at his tightly fitted T-shirt and wondered why she never noticed Porter was so ripped. She felt instantly on guard. He reminded her of her only one-night stand: Kincaid. Handsome, fit and only interested in new notches in his bedpost. “Liv?” The guest’s voice snapped her back to hostess mode.

“Yes, a hundred percent latex safe,” Liv said, thankful to have somewhere else to focus her attention. Porter or no Porter, she had a show to do.

“What about condoms? Got any flavored condoms?” one guy asked.

“Like you need any condoms, dude. When was the last time you got any?” another teased.

With great reluctance, Liv brought out the boxes of condoms, which came in all shapes and sizes, some even ribbed for her pleasure, and others that glowed in the dark. Porter leaned against the arm of the couch, watching her intently.

As she explained the specialties of each, she debated skipping the next part, which involved her rolling out an extra-large condom complete with tickler on a banana for effect. She tried to ignore Porter’s intent stare as she went to work on it. Her neck burned the entire time, even as the guys hooted and cheered.

Porter Benjamin took steady sips of his beer, his face impossible to read. Did he enjoy the show? Did he disapprove? Liv couldn’t tell.

The timer on Liv’s phone dinged, announcing the end of the show. Paul stood and stretched.

“Okay, fellas, Liv’s time is up with us, so make your last purchases,” he announced.

The guys at the party bought more merchandise, pushing her totals even higher. She was running someone’s credit card through her iPhone swipe when she felt Porter wander closer to the table. He picked up some cherry-flavored warming lube and smelled the bottle.

She finished up her last sale, and then hurriedly began packing her things, her mind running a mile a minute: Do I tell Porter not to tell my dad? Would that just make it worse?

Porter hung around, slowly sipping a beer, watching her as she packed her things. She certainly wasn’t going to press him for a sale. She could imagine the conversation now. Hey, Mr. Tanaka, guess what I did this weekend? I bought a leopard-print gold glass dildo from your daughter!

Liv’s mind whirled with all the excuses she could make. To Porter. To her dad. To everyone.

Porter picked up a box of edible cherry thongs she was about to put in her bag. “How much?” he asked in his deep, gravelly voice, the voice she imagined made other lawyers in the conference room instantly pee their pants and want to settle. She glanced at his deep brown eyes, and then anxiously down at the edible underwear. “Uh...those? Uh...”

She suddenly had an image of Porter with a gorgeous blonde somewhere, nibbling off a red thong. The image made her abruptly lose her train of thought, as she stumbled about trying to remember how much they cost. She’d never had trouble remembering inventory before. “Uh...I think twenty-five. No, wait. Twenty-nine.”

Porter let his lips curl up in a lazy smile. “I mean for a party.”

“Are you getting married, too?” Liv blinked fast. Now she had an image of him with a gorgeous lingerie model type on their honeymoon, of him nibbling on a frilly white lace garter. Unexpectedly, she felt a surge of jealousy.

“Me?” Porter raised his eyebrows in surprise. “No. I’m single.”

“Oh.” Liv sounded a little too relieved. Mentally, she kicked herself. Porter’s smile grew bigger. “I mean, uh, well...how many guests?”

“Just one.”

Liv swallowed hard as she reached for the cherry thongs and zipped her bag. “One?” she squeaked. The look on Porter’s face told her this was no joke, either. He was dead serious.

“Right.” He nodded, eyes set on hers. “How much for a party just for me?”

Chapter Two

Liv stared into Porter’s brown eyes, craning her neck to meet them, not failing to notice his broad, muscled shoulders nearly bursting the seams of his cotton T-shirt.

“You want a private party?” Liv’s mouth went dry. She didn’t do private parties. She’d never even seriously considered doing one—until this moment. Why wasn’t she saying no? Where was her knee-jerk, hell no, perv, response? Because Porter was no creep, that’s why. Because showing Porter her wares, all of them, might be exactly what she wanted to do next Friday night.

Then she had a flash of trying to explain to her dad how she decided to date his junior partner, and how she introduced him to the rabbit on their first date. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest? Would that go over well at Peterson and Tanaka?”

Porter took a casual swig of his beer and half shrugged his shoulder. “I’m not afraid of your father. Are you?”

Liv shifted uncomfortably in her stilettos. Laughter bellowed from the kitchen, where the other partygoers had gathered for a round of shots. “You’re not going to tell him...uh...about...” Her eyes darted to her black duffel bag.

“I take it he doesn’t know?”

Liv blushed crimson. “No. He doesn’t. And I’d rather...keep it that way.”

Paul strode out of the kitchen then, holding a folded check and her dark gray raincoat, which he handed to Liv. “Thanks for doing this,” he said. “And I called the doorman for a cab. He said five minutes.”

“Thanks, Paul,” she said as she shrugged into her belted coat. She cinched it tightly. Paul handed her a folded $100 bill—her tip. “Wow, Paul, thank you.” Porter watched her as she took the bill and added it to the rest.

“You’re more than welcome, Liv. Need help with your bag?”

“I got it, Paul. I’ll walk Olivia down.” Porter grabbed the bag before Liv could answer. She could roll it just fine on her own, but she had to admit she didn’t mind watching Porter’s muscles work. He lifted it as if it weighed nothing and strode confidently to the front door. Porter swung it wide.

“Olivia...after you.”

She felt his eyes on her body as she walked through the door, and the sensation sent a warm tingle down her spine.

As they waited for the elevator, Porter leaned closer.

“You know, I could get into that cab with you right now,” Porter said, his voice a low rumble. “We could have that party tonight.”

“Could we?” Liv’s voice came out throaty and low as she sucked in a breath. Porter took a step closer. It was right then that she realized it had been far too long since she’d been this close to a man.

“I promise it’d be fun.”

“I bet it would be.” Liv’s lips parted as she felt herself moving toward him. She reached up and touched his chest, feeling a wall of muscle. She traced down until she felt the hard point of his nipple.

Before she knew it, she was up on her tiptoes, kissing him.

It wasn’t what she’d planned at all, but there she was, nibbling on his lower lip. He growled and moved in, pressing his body into hers. For a second she forgot about her family and what they might think; all she could focus on was how perfectly they fit together. She groped at the back of Porter’s strong neck, wrapping her fingers into his dark brown hair. His tongue parted her lips, lightly at first, and then when she met his, frantic energy took over. He tasted so good, all she wanted was to devour him whole. He leaned against her, insistent, and she felt him come to life. She was struck by a sudden, delicious thought: he had nothing to fear from being compared to the rabbit. Nothing at all, by the feel of things.

She should be worried about Paul coming out in the hall and finding them, or about anyone else for that matter, but she didn’t care. The kiss was too good.

The elevator dinged and Liv sprang away from Porter, who was breathing heavily, his eyes looking glazed. She moved past him into the elevator, sensing him staring at her legs as she went. Porter followed her in, plunking her bag down on the floor.

“You’re not getting off that easily,” he murmured, pulling her close.

“We’re getting off, are we?” Liv raised an eyebrow. Porter tugged her close, trailing kisses down her neck, to her coat and beyond. Then, nearly on his knees, he slipped his hands through the folds of her coat.

Liv watched as the numbers counted down from the penthouse at fifty-five.

“Oh, God,” Liv moaned, her back pressed against the wall of the elevator as Porter put his hand on her calf and worked it slowly up her inner thigh. He followed his hand with his mouth, leading a trail of dizzying warmth up her leg. She shuddered as his lips touched the softest part of her leg. He breathed in and whispered, “You smell so good. I just want to...”

Liv felt his warm breath on her skin as he explored upward with his hands, his fingers almost to her lace thong, which was drenched and warm. She forgot she was on an elevator and that Porter was the last man she ought to be making out with. She didn’t care about anything but the feeling of his hands on her skin. She clutched the metal railing of the elevator and groaned, arching her back a little. The last thing on earth she wanted was for him to stop. She’d never felt this way before: out of control with need. She felt like something deep inside her had been awakened, something she hadn’t even known was there.

She felt a gentle caress right there, on the damp black satin, and she gasped a little. But she didn’t fight him. She couldn’t.

“My, my...what do we have here?” he murmured as he went for the edge of her underwear, his finger slipping past the elastic.

But then the elevator dinged, breaking the spell, and the doors abruptly slid open.

The cold air of the lobby hit Liv’s skin and instantly, Porter withdrew. Liv’s coat flapped closed and she was struck with cold disappointment as Porter grabbed the bag from the corner and stood up. Liv tried to catch her breath, her chest heaving as Porter held open the elevator door with a devilish grin. Liv pushed her coat together again and pulled on the belt as she stalked out.

The doorman, wearing a suit, sat behind a console desk near the glass doors of the building, and watched her as she walked toward him. He had a half-smirk on his face, but she ignored him, as she flew out of the door.

Liv looked for her cab, but it was nowhere to be seen. Cars rushed by down a busy Clark Street. It had rained while she’d been at the party and the streetlights beamed up at her from the wet sidewalks. Out in the cool September air she came to her senses again. Porter might be enticing, but he wasn’t worth the risk. Not with her parents involved. She felt a stone in her stomach when she thought about having to explain her work.

“Olivia...”

“Call me Liv. Only my...only my parents call me Olivia.” Her lips still felt warm from his kiss. She rubbed them with her finger, wishing she didn’t feel like kissing him right there on the street, again.

“Okay, Liv.” Porter cocked his head as he held her bag. She noticed he didn’t shiver in the cold, even though he’d left his sweatshirt upstairs. Clearly, his hotness wasn’t just cosmetic, but seemed to radiate out from his muscles. “I won’t tell him, you know.”

Liv turned her attention from the cars on the street. “You won’t?” she asked, hopeful.

“I won’t. Scout’s honor.” He held up three fingers.

“You were a Boy Scout?” Liv scoffed, not believing him.

“Nope. Sure wasn’t.” He shrugged. Liv couldn’t help herself and laughed. “But I respect the institution. I won’t tell.”

“Good. He’d have a heart attack. And don’t get me started on Mom. She’d probably force me to join a convent.”

“They can’t be that bad. You’re...liberal.” He grinned.

Liv laughed, her breath visible in the sudden chill of the night. “I’m the liberal black sheep of the family, trust me. Sometimes, I think I was switched at birth.” Then again, given her very thin sexual history, she thought, she wasn’t quite so sure she was the black sheep. She thought of her meager two lovers, wondering if maybe her parents had rubbed off on her more than she thought.

“I won’t tell, but you have to do me a favor.” He ran a finger down the side of her arm.

“What?”

“You know what.” His eyes told her she was planning no games.

Liv’s heart kicked up a few notches. “The party? You’re serious.”

“I’m always serious about sex.” Porter’s brown eyes flashed with mischief.

Something about the way he looked made all her words dry up and shrivel in her throat. He stared at her as if he could already see her naked, and liked what he saw.

“Why don’t we have a party right now?”

“What? But Paul...”

“Paul has a lot of his other friends to keep him company.” Porter reached out and ran a finger through the belt loop of her raincoat. He tugged her closer. “I know you want to, Liv,” he whispered, his breath warm on her ear, and she felt her cheeks flush as she remembered him touching her in the elevator. Yes, he did know just how much she wanted to go.

“Porter...” Liv hesitated. Her body screamed yes, but her common sense said she’d be a fool to do it. She was in enough trouble without sleeping with him on top of it. And she was positive that if she let him into her cab right now and took him back to Wicker Park, she probably wouldn’t even make it to her bedroom before her panties were off. She’d just be digging herself in deeper. She needed to focus on damage control, not on white-hot sex with her father’s employee. “Won’t that be bad for you at work?” Liv couldn’t imagine it would be a very good career move.

“I know it’s a bad idea,” Porter said, stepping closer. “But, Liv...looking at you...” His eyes flicked downward. “I just can’t seem to help myself.”

“Looks like I’ll have to save you from yourself then,” Liv said, as a yellow cab pulled up by the curb. Porter leaned over, opening the door and putting her bag in. As she stood there, he pulled her close, so she could feel his warm hands through the raincoat on the small of her back.

“I promise I’ll be a gentleman,” he whispered, almost a growl.

“You mean, like how you were a Boy Scout?” Liv murmured, eyes on his full bottom lip. His brown eyes sparkled.

Porter laughed a little. “You’re too smart for me, Liv.”

“Used to seducing only the simpleminded, huh? Not much of a challenge, then.” She sent him her patented not this time smile, which she’d perfected in bars across Wrigleyville.

A low grumble of a laugh escaped Porter’s throat as Liv ducked into the cab.

“You could make me up my game,” Porter said, dipping into the cab door. “Want to let me try?”

Liv laughed. “You call this game?” She gave him her best flirty half smile, unable to help herself. “You’re going to have to work harder than that.”

Porter laughed. “Fair enough,” he said as he leaned in the open door. “Okay, then a party next Friday. Seven. My place. Be there or...”

Liv felt nerves tingle on the backs of her legs. “Or what?” She held her breath, imagining Porter going back on his word and marching into her father’s office Monday morning with this little juicy bone of gossip. Fear squeezed her heart. Fear and something else...anticipation. As much as she didn’t want to be found out, she did want to see Porter again. Her whole body screamed to finish what they’d started in the elevator.

Porter grinned, showing off his dimple. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He slammed the car door then and thumped the top of the cab, which hit the gas, sending her back into her seat. She turned around on the black leather in time to see Porter, hands in his pockets, watching her go.

I’m in trouble, she thought as she bit her lower lip. I’m in big, big trouble.

Chapter Three

Liv woke Monday morning feeling a deep sense of dread. She’d managed to avoid thinking about Porter for most of Sunday, running from one errand to another, but now she had no distractions. Now all she could do was relive that kiss over and over again. She’d never felt one so...earth-shaking. Was that how it was supposed to be? Was it just because she’d had so few kisses? That single kiss was hotter than most of the sex she’d had in her life.

She felt herself tingle with the memory.

She sighed. If a single kiss was so amazing, what would a sex toy party for one be like, she wondered.

Not that she could allow that to happen.

If she did, he would probably find out—first hand—just how inexperienced she was.

She knew what guys expected from a sex hostess. It was exactly what Kincaid had wanted when she’d let slip that was what she did for a living. When he’d convinced her to come back to his place, he’d been disappointed when she hadn’t pulled all means of entertainment out of her tiny black clutch.

She still remembered how indifferent he looked as he showed her the door afterward, as if he’d been disappointed by her, by the whole experience. A week later, she’d seen him kissing another girl at a neighborhood bar. She shouldn’t have been upset by it, but she was. Since then, she’d become an expert at keeping men at arm’s length.

She worried Porter would be just like him. Hot and heavy until he found out she didn’t know what she was doing. He’d find her out. Just like Kincaid had.

“He wants what?” Liv’s roommate, Jordan, said after Liv had told her everything. Jordan had just finished the early-morning shift as a barista, and she smelled strongly of espresso as she brushed out her ponytail in the bathroom mirror. She checked out her new neck tattoo, a butterfly, before turning back to Liv. “You know he’s just after sex. Why else would he ask for a private party?”

“Yeah, I know. But I have half a mind to give it to him,” Liv said, scooting past her part-time punk roommate into the bathroom to grab her toothbrush. Together, they shared the small apartment not far from North Avenue and Damen, in the heart of Wicker Park. It was the first one they’d moved into after college graduation, back when Liv thought her dream marketing job would fall into her lap and Jordan was sure she’d land a record deal for her garage band. Three years later, both dreams were still on hold.

It was a miracle her parents even let her room with Jordan. Somehow, she’d managed to slip past their defenses, mostly because she was a good egg, despite the tattoos. It had been Jordan who’d skipped a final so she could take Liv to student health when she’d come down with a very late and very serious case of chicken pox junior year. Her parents loved Jordan for it and were able to overlook the fact she played drums in a rock band.

Jordan brushed out her short blond hair and barked a laugh. “I told you your dry spell was going on too long. This is what happens when girls don’t get laid. They get blackmailed.”

“He didn’t blackmail me!” Liv exclaimed.

“Didn’t he?” Jordan quirked an eyebrow. “He says he won’t tell your dad and then he asks for a party. Like they’re not connected?”

Liv’s mind whirled. “They’re not. He wouldn’t do something like that....”

“You sure?” Jordan challenged. “You think if you tell him no, he’ll take it nicely?”

Liv sighed, pushing a jet-black strand of hair out of her eyes. “No,” she admitted. She jammed the toothbrush in her mouth and scrubbed.

“That doesn’t mean you should do it,” Jordan said.

Jordan threw the towel back on the silver rack and retreated to her room as Liv finished brushing her teeth and spat.

“It does, though!”

Jordan shook her head. “You should just call his bluff. He’s got his job to lose, you know.”

Jordan winked as she shrugged out of her barista T-shirt, exchanging it for one that didn’t smell like stale coffee.

“The worst that can happen is you have to come clean with your dad. So what? “ Jordan kicked off her Converse shoes and plopped down in the center of the couch, reaching for her Mac.

Liv moaned. “You know he’d put me out of business. And then you’d have to take over for me.”

Jordan just cackled. “I couldn’t sell dildos and you know it. I can barely sell coffee and that practically sells itself.” It was true Jordan wasn’t a people person. She tended to be a bit blunt and to the point.

Liv heard the sounds of music as Jordan started to mix a new track before she plugged in her headphones. Liv cinched the belt tighter on her terry cloth robe and retreated back to her room, where she plopped on her bed and opened her laptop. She’d need to start working on her dream, too, landing a job she could talk about at Sunday dinner. The problem was nobody was hiring marketing writers these days, and even when she did land a job interview, she had the sticky situation of what she’d been doing for the last year. She’d been more than vague about her current work. And truth be told, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to do marketing. Her communications degree had been a fallback. She was still trying to figure out her dream job.

* * *

Liv’s phone dinged with an incoming message. Porter’s number flashed across her phone.

You playing with toys?

Liv felt her mouth go dry as she glanced at the clock. It was just before noon. Was he texting when her father was around? Or was he out to lunch? She thought about ignoring him, but her fingers whipped across the keys before she could stop them.

I’m not on the clock.

His response was lightning fast: You will be Friday.

His words made her shiver just a little. You’re serious about Friday? Really?

Better believe it. And I want the most thorough party possible. Full demonstrations on everything.

Liv couldn’t help but grin. That’ll cost you extra.

Liv had just hit Send when her phone lit up with an incoming call from her dad, which nearly gave her a heart attack. She fumbled with the phone, quickly grabbing her hands-free Bluetooth and answering it, as if somehow her dad could read her naughty texts from the other end of the line.

“H-hello?” she stammered, sounding guilty, just as she always did when she was caught red-handed.

“Everything all right, Olivia?”

“Uh...yeah...” Liv cinched the belt on her robe and pulled her legs up under her on her bed. She sat up straighter, even though he couldn’t see her slouch through the phone.

“Sorry to bother you at work,” her dad’s voice rumbled through the receiver. Work? Liv thought, confused. Then it hit her: of course, her fake job, the one her parents thought she went to every weekday from eight ’til six, in the far-flung burbs in a small company no one’s heard of.

“Oh, it’s okay. I’ve got a minute. What’s up?” Liv slapped her laptop shut, too, as if her dad could miraculously read her online job listings, too.

“Uncle Robert is in town this weekend. We’re going to have a few people over at the house, maybe even grill some steaks or something. We want to make sure you can make it.”

Liv’s phone dinged again. She glanced at it.

I’ll pay whatever it takes.

She swallowed, hard, feeling hot and cold all at once. What was she doing? She was flirting with Porter, while her dad was on the line, and probably only a few office walls separated them. Nothing a good shout couldn’t get through.

“Olivia?” Her dad was still waiting for an answer.

“Sorry, it’s...uh...a bit hectic here. But, yeah, I can come. Sure.”

“Great. I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Ok.” Liv was already trying to figure out what to text Porter next.

“Oh, and Liv...” Her dad cleared his throat on the other end. “Just wanted to tell you that we’re proud of you. With this new job, and making that first big step with your marketing career. I know your mother prayed for this to happen every day, and we’re both so happy that it came to pass. It just proves that God has big things in store for you.”

Liv felt as if someone had doused her with a bucket of cold water from Lake Michigan. She was completely sure that God’s plan for her did not involve battery-operated vibrators.

“Uh...thanks, Dad.” Liv hated lying to her parents, but she also couldn’t see how she could be honest with them, either. Aside from her secret college boyfriend, she’d never lied on this scale to her parents before. This was her first big rebellion, and she didn’t know how to handle it.

Liv hung up and opened her laptop again. She’d never intended to lie to her parents this long, but she also had drastically underestimated how bad the job market was at the moment. Her phone dinged with another message from Porter.

Come to my place. 2622 N. Orchard. Come hungry. I’m serving dinner.

Dinner? That threw her. This was sounding like more of a date than a sex party. Was Porter interested in more than a casual hookup? Liv shook her head.

She thought about texting right then and there and calling the whole thing off. Why was she even seriously considering going? Jordan was wrong. Porter wouldn’t tell her dad, not if he valued his place at the firm. But what if that wasn’t true? Even worse, what if she went through with the party, but then Porter found out just how little she knew about the sex that went along with her toys?

She’d have to stall. Put him off. But could she do it? She thought about how little her willpower had mattered in the elevator.

As her fingers hovered near her phone, she remembered what Jordan had said, about Porter getting mad and telling her dad everything.

She couldn’t risk even a remote chance that Porter would do that.

She still remembered the look of pure anger on her father’s face when he’d found that Cosmo magazine she’d hidden under her mattress in her room when she was in eighth grade, the one that blatantly offered tips on blow jobs right on the cover. It wasn’t her fault, exactly. They’d never even dreamed of sitting her down and explaining the birds and the bees. She had to get what she could from fifth-grade sex ed and magazines.

No, she had to do it. She couldn’t risk calling Porter’s bluff. She’d have to go through with the party, but she certainly didn’t have to sleep with him. Unless she wanted to, a little annoying voice whispered in her head. She texted back before she lost her nerve:

I’ll be there.

Chapter Four

“This is a bad idea,” Liv told her reflection as she stared at her long, shiny hair, which hung past her shoulders, and her almond-shaped eyes lined with smoky eyeliner that accentuated the corners. She wore her most modest hostess outfit: a just-above-the-knee knit black dress, long-sleeved, with a scoop neckline. But she couldn’t decide on shoes: sky-high silver strappy stilettos, sensible black pumps, or full-on dominatrix lace-up knee-high black stiletto boots?

“The boots!” cried Jordan, popping her blond head in, her neon green headphones hanging around her neck.

“Are you trying to get me into trouble?” Liv demanded, hands on hips.

Jordan shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe if you show him the whips ’n’ chains first, he’ll get all scared and cut the party short.”

“Oh, great, and then he’ll go back and tell my dad I’m not just into sex toys, but I’m into S&M? That’s all I need.” Liv reached down to the pile of shoes at the bottom of her open closet. “Sensible pumps it is.”

“You look like you’re going to a funeral.” Jordan leaned against the door frame of Liv’s room as she chomped gum.

“I am—my funeral if my parents find out what I’m doing.”

Liv slipped into her second shoe and studied herself in the mirror. She hated the frumpy rounded-toe pumps. She kicked them off and went for the flashy silver strappy stilettos. There, she thought. Not quite dominatrix, but not Sunday school, either.

“I hate to be the one to bring this up,” Jordan said. “But what happens if he wants a sex party every weekend?”

“It’s a sex toy party.”

“Right.” Jordan rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure sex party is going to be more accurate.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Liv’s mouth before she wrestled it under control. “It’s going to be purely professional.”

“Do you need my extra can of pepper spray?” Jordan offered it from the back pocket of her jeans. It was decorated with a pink skull and crossbones.

“No,” Liv scoffed, and was surprised that she meant it. She trusted Porter. “He’s a nice guy.”

Jordan let out a disgusted snort. “Right, because all blackmailers are nice guys. It’s just a cheap trick to get into your panties, Liv. Period.”

“He’s not like that. He’s buying me dinner.” Liv was surprised at how quickly she rose to his defense. She tried to put into words the pull between them, the surprisingly strong current in their first kiss.

“Dinner? Oh, that changes everything,” Jordan said, skepticism clear in her face. “Well, when he answers the door in a fuzzy leopard-print man-thong holding a strap-on, don’t come crying to me. I’ll say I told you so.”

* * *

Liv caught a cab to Porter’s posh Lincoln Park neighborhood, the driver gliding quickly through the darkened streets of Chicago’s North Side. The sidewalks were crowded with people hurrying to dates and dinners, concerts and clubs. She swallowed down the ball of nerves in her throat as the driver stopped in front of Porter’s building—a sleek, three-story luxury brick townhome just south of Diversy. Butterflies zigzagged dangerously in her stomach as she stepped out of the cab, pulling her wheeled suitcase filled with every naughty kind of adult fun imaginable. She tipped the cabbie and then made her way up the walkway to the front door, her stilettos clicking against the concrete.

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