Taking the Heat (Jackson: Girls' Night Out 3)

Don’t let them see the real you... Wasn’t that what she was doing in Jackson, too? Hiding behind this costume she’d assembled in the big city?

If she wrote in to her own column, the answer would be easy. If you feel like you’re faking your way through life, then stop faking it. Let people see the real you. Take a chance. If you don’t open yourself up to others, then they won’t be open to you.

It wasn’t even complicated. It wasn’t something she needed to research. But it was still scary as hell. Letting people see the real you.

Veronica stared at the big-city version of herself in the mirror. The smoky-gray shadow made her eyes even bluer. The blush gave her cheekbones. The lip stain made her lips fuller. But she could tone it all down. Be the natural girl she’d been when she’d flown to New York all those years ago. Let people see her.

No.

She picked up her mascara and added another coat, then packed her makeup into its bag and put it away. “Not tonight,” she murmured to herself before she snapped off the light. But before she walked out of the apartment, she found a black marker and wrote a big note and stuck it on the fridge.

#1—Let people see the real you.

She’d start taking her own advice. Tomorrow, maybe. But definitely when she wasn’t standing in front of the whole damn town.

CHAPTER FOUR

VERONICA CHANDLER WAS shining again when she took her place in front of the microphone. The wide smile made her eyes sparkle. Her earrings glittered as she waved to the crowd. “Good Lord, there are a lot of you tonight!”

The place erupted in cheers. Gabe didn’t cheer, but he did clap for Veronica before picking up a beer to wet his suddenly dry mouth. Maybe it was because he was already buzzed or maybe it was because he hadn’t seen her cool, bitchy side right beforehand, but she looked hot tonight. Her legs were bare all the way from ankle to midthigh, and his eyes followed the path up and down several times. Those legs made her look like his kind of girl.

He cleared his throat at the strange thought, but when he tried to look away, his gaze swung right back to those bare legs. They weren’t thin and impossibly long like the legs of some of the fashion models his sister hung out with. Veronica’s legs were tight. Hard. As if she used them to go places and do things. Her calf muscles were cut and the fronts of her thighs tightened when she shifted.

“How have I not seen her before?” Benton asked.

Gabe forced his eyes off her legs and looked at Benton. “She was living in New York for a while.”

“You know her?”

“I met her last week. She’s friends with L

auren at the library.”

“Maybe I should be spending more time at the library.”

“Because bartenders don’t get enough female attention? Please.”

Benton grinned and raised his beer. “Cheers to that.”

Veronica spoke again, drawing their attention. “This first question is R rated. Do you guys think you’re ready for that, or should we ease in with something tamer?”

When the crowd reacted, Veronica covered her mouth and shook her head, her cheeks going pink. “I actually didn’t mean it to sound that way, but I’d say you’re definitely ready.”

“Hell, yeah!” a girl shouted from the left.

“All right,” Veronica said. “This one’s short and not so sweet. ‘My boyfriend won’t go down on me—’”

The place erupted in groans and boos and Gabe found himself laughing until his eyes watered.

Benton booed right along with the crowd. “What a punk ass,” he muttered. Gabe clinked his glass in agreement.

Veronica’s laugh echoed over it all. “Okay. Just listen. ‘My boyfriend won’t go down on me. He says he’s never liked it with anyone, but I can’t help but take it personally. What should I do?’ Signed, I Need Love. Well, I hope your boyfriend is here to listen to this! But, letter writer, it doesn’t really matter if he’s here or not. Because what you need to hear is how many of these guys think he’s a fool. Right, guys?” The place exploded with noise.

Once the cheers died down, she started again. “There are lots of men who genuinely don’t like going down, and there are also lots of women who don’t like performing oral sex. These are not bad people—”

“Are you sure?” someone shouted.

“—and I don’t think anyone should be talked into anything they don’t want to do. I have no idea what your boyfriend’s problem is, and it doesn’t truly matter. If you have to talk him into it, I doubt he’d be very good at it and I doubt you’d have a great time.”