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room were Vance and a few previous boyfriends.
    As she replaced couch cushions and turned out the lights, the mental movie created when Braden described that long-ago day played over and over in her mind. Her embarrassment ratcheted higher with each loop, causing a strange fight-or-flight type of response: her heart raced, she was short of breath, and there was a throbbing pulse in her clit.
    Turning out the lights en route to her bedroom, she was surprised to realize, you’re turned-on, you sick bitch . She undressed for bed, knowing she would think of Braden every time she wore those cut-offs in the future. And for a change, she felt not just horny, but sexy .
    Then she made the unfortunate mistake of glancing in the mirror.
    And as with any other train wreck, she couldn’t look away. Her ample breasts (courtesy of her paternal grandmother’s side of the family, despite neighborhood gossip) were succumbing to gravity. Her formerly small waist was now average, at best. And with her rounded ass and hips, she was nothing but a Rubenesque divorcee in a Yoga-butt world. She yanked a huge t-shirt over her head and covered the offensive curves with relief.
    It was after eleven, so she climbed into bed and tried to sleep, but it soon became clear it was not gonna happen. Visions of Braden -- both young and less-young -- were doing “the eye thing” in her head. Fuck it. She sat up and reached for her laptop.
    An hour later, after responding to Jake’s email from baseball camp (he hadn’t mentioned Braden, so neither did she), taking care of the few bills she could afford to pay, and reading two chapters of a novel without retaining a word, she killed the light and hoped she was tired enough to tune out the words and pictures in her head. But of course, she wasn’t. The hottest man she’d ever seen could very well right now have his cock in his fist and be thinking sexy things about her.
    When had she ever been that tired?
    Nobody’s ever been that tired.
    She got comfortable and in the spirit of “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” allowed the images in. Maybe she couldn’t have him in real life, but here in the dark of her own mind she could be what he thought she was. What she wished she were.
    Her fingertips became his eyes as they skimmed across her breasts and teased her tight left nipple. The one he saw . Her body responded to her conjured version of him with the same damp heat and soul-deep ache she felt when he was there. For the first time since college, she brought herself to orgasm with only her hands and her mind.

* * *
    The next day, Natalie asked Lisa to meet her for happy hour at the pub near the law office. Lisa found her at their favorite table in the back corner.
    “Hey girlie,” Natalie gave her a quick hug.
    “Hey yourself. What’s up?”
    Natalie smiled as a cute young waitress with a nose ring and a sleeve of colorful tattoos set down a pitcher of beer and filled two icy mugs.
    “Enjoy, ladies. Holler if you need anything else.” They thanked her as she rushed off.
    Natalie grinned at Lisa and lifted her mug. “To you.”
    She tapped her beer to Natalie’s. “For what?”
    Natalie slid a check across the table. “For this. Guess what, you’re hired. My dad’s assistant will call you to set it up.”
    It wasn’t a life-altering check, but it would certainly chip away at some debt. “I’ll drink to that,” she grinned. “Thanks, Nat. No wonder you’re a lawyer; you’re pretty damned persuasive.”
    “Wasn’t me. They loved your work. Actually, if I can hang onto the portfolio a little longer, I think you might sell a few prints.”
    Lisa nodded. “Yeah, sure. That’s fine.” She didn’t need the portfolio back right away. Maybe she’d wished she had it last night when Braden was admiring her work, but she wasn’t going to invite him in again.
    They drank in thoughtful silence, something Lisa would’ve found unusual if she weren’t the cause of it. She blinked when