Nice & Naughty. Tawny Weber
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that count most? Or that there’s no time like the present to get off your ass and fix your life? Or, you know whatever those other feel-good sayings are that you’re always quoting from those empowerment classes you teach?”
“You’re paraphrasing the message just a little, there.” Jade grimaced. Still, Beryl was right. That was pretty much the message Jade included in all her presentations.
The classes had started out as a simple Dress for Career Success talk for teenagers that she’d offered at the library. Somehow midtalk, she’d sort of drifted from making an impression through clothes to why every woman deserved to pursue her dream career. Since Jade was currently working in a library—where, let’s face it, fashion was closer to a word in the dictionary than an actual trend—she’d felt a bit like a fraud. But the kids—and many of the parents—had loved the presentation. So much so that the following month, she’d been asked to tweak the presentation for the ladies’ club.
A year and a half later, Jade still felt like a fraud, but her workshop repertoire had expanded from Fashion and Career Empowerment to Embracing Sexuality, The Art Of Saying No, and Lingerie for All Ages. Not too bad for a woman who wasn’t living her dream career or getting any regular nookie.
Still, it was enough to make her want to dig into the bowl of chocolate chips for a little comfort.
“Isn’t being empowered about creating a life that makes you happy?” Beryl prompted. “And for that, you need a man, of course.”
Shocked, Jade dropped the chocolate morsels back in the bowl and stared. She couldn’t have heard that right.
“Of course?” Ruby repeated, so offended her voice hit five different decibels. “Nobody needs a man to make them happy.”
“They do if they want sex,” Beryl countered with a gloating smile only a sheltered and slightly spoiled twenty-two-year-old could pull off.
Ruby and Jade exchanged eye rolls, but neither was willing to delve into the ins and outs of self-pleasuring during their baking marathon. But Jade made a mental note to add a Sexing Solo workshop to her spring-workshop offerings.
“Part of being empowered is being able to say no,” she pointed out gently instead. “It’s also empowering to accept someone else’s decision with grace.”
Beryl’s lower lip poked out for a second as visions of fun double dates burst in her head. Then, in her usual cheerful fashion, she shrugged it off. “Fine. If you don’t want to date, that’s your call. So, where’s the cookie press?”
Used to Beryl’s verbal one-eighties and non sequiturs, they all scanned the kitchen. The three large green-and-red bins they’d hauled in that morning to start preparing for the Carson Holiday Open House were stacked against one wall. Held every year on the twenty-third, it was a little over two weeks away. Just enough time to make and bake every delicious holiday treat in Mom’s cookbook. Jade sighed.
“We’re missing one bin,” Ruby realized. “It’s probably still in the garage.”
“I’ll get it.”
Jade waited until the kitchen door shut behind Beryl before shaking her head.
“A blind date,” she breathed in dismay. “Seriously?”
“The mind boggles at the horror,” Ruby agreed. Then she gave Jade a long, considering look. “She’s right, though. You do need a date. Just not a blind one.”
“I don’t think so. In the first place, I have no interest in dating. In the second, even if I did have an interest, one of the joys of small towns is that there is nobody here to date. The men are all too young, too old, too married or just too icky.”
“Not all of them,” Ruby objected. “There are one or two nice single guys within your optimal age-dating range.”
“Optimal age-dating range?” Jade repeated with a laugh.
“You know what I mean.”
Sliding the tray of decorated cookies toward her sister and accepting a new one of raw shapes, Jade sighed. “Sure. Charlie Lake is home for the holidays and asked me out last week. Mark Dinson is managing the bank now and he’s invited me to dinner a few times.”
“But …?”
“But while they might be within the optimal dating-age range, and non-icky, they just don’t do it for me.” Jade gave a discontented shrug.
“You’re not still holding on to—”
“No!” Jade interrupted, knowing exactly where her sister was going. “I’m not hung up on Eric. I’m not letting his leaving me at the altar affect my trust in the opposite sex. And believe me, the sex with him wasn’t so great that it ruined me against orgasms for life.”
“How long’s it been since you got lucky?” Ruby asked, not looking convinced, but obviously not wanting to argue.
Her last block of resistance crumbling, Jade scooped up a handful of mini milk chocolate chips and tossed a few in her mouth.
“It’s been a while,” she acknowledged, figuring that sounded better than admitting it’d been eighteen months, long enough to make her feel almost virginal. “But what are the options in Diablo Glen? I mean, it’s not like I can just go up to one of these guys who live here and say, ‘Hey, I’m not really attracted to you, you don’t melt my panties and I don’t want a future together. But d’you suppose you could scratch an itch for me?’, now, can I?”
Coming over to sit at the table with Jade, Ruby pushed the sleeves of her red sweater up before carefully counting out twelve chocolate chips for herself.
“You know, most of the guys around here would probably go for that just fine.”
“Which brings us back to icky,” Jade pointed out.
Yet another reason to wish she lived in a big city. The anonymity offered so many sexual possibilities. Not that she was looking to turn her life into a series of one-night stands. But a chance to scratch an itch, a few delicious orgasms here and there, and the freedom of not having to see the guy again unless she actually wanted to?
That dream appealed to her almost as much as the dream of a career as a fashion stylist. Ever since she’d been old enough to dress her Barbies, she’d loved creating looks, putting together outfits and developing signature styles. By eight, she’d even taken her Ann doll from raggedy to bohemian with just a little tie-dye and tiny pair of faux-leather boots.
“Speaking of icky,” Ruby said, finishing off her measly dozen morsels and getting to her feet as the timer dinged. “Did you hear the latest in the Panty Thief Caper?”
Jade wrinkled her nose. “There’s nothing caperish about a creep who sneaks into women’s bedrooms and steals their undies.”
“Men’s, too,” Ruby said, setting a tray of cookies on the cooling rack and putting another in the oven. “I heard old Ben Zimmerman was having a fit. He won’t say what was stolen, but he’s still screaming up a storm.”
“He’s going to scream louder when his unmentionables end up paraded through town. This creep left the latest pair of panties hanging from the top of the cart corral at the grocery store this morning, along with a note that said ‘No Peeking.’”
“What do you think it’s all about?”
“It’s a nuisance.” Jade shrugged.
“That’s it? A nuisance? Don’t you worry, living alone like you do? How do you know your panties are safe?”
“Oh, please,” Jade dismissed with a laugh. “Just a few minutes ago you were trying to get some guy into my panties.”
“Don’t joke, Jade. This might not seem like a big deal now, but you don’t know what could happen. Someone this unstable could easily shift from stealing when people aren’t home to sneaking in when