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the ball cap he wore kept his face obscured. All she saw was a huge frame and large shovel-like hands curved around the steering wheel.
    Marti shivered. She wouldn’t stand a chance if he decided he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Where the hell was Jackson? She couldn’t believe he’d left her swinging in the wind like this? Had his car broken down? Had he been in accident?
    If he wasn’t dead, she was gonna kill him. “Um, I’m sure your money’s fine,” she said, trying to keep her tone even, “but I have an appointment.”
    He snorted. “An appointment? What kinda ho are you?”
    Marti’s eyes bugged. “What the fuck kind of man are you? Does your wife know where you are?”
    “You know ‘er?” he asked, his voice getting smaller.
    “No, but if I get your license plate, I can find her.”
    “You’re a crazy bitch.” His head canted. “Sure you don’t wanna take a ride around the block?”
    She straightened, pushing up her sunglasses, and turned her hips to angle her body away. The heel came free, and she stepped hastily away from the car.
    The John’s burly shadow leaned toward her. “You change your mind…”
    Marti jutted her chin. “In your dreams.”
    As the Plymouth pulled away, another car drove up—a sleek black Camry with tinted windows.
    “What the hell?” Glitter Lips flipped Marti the finger.
    Marti straightened and crossed her arms over her chest, not lowering her gaze when the window glided silently down.
    “How much?”
    Her head swiveled. “What? Not even gonna try to be polite? No wonder you have to buy a girlfriend.”
    A choked chuckle sounded from inside, and she leaned toward the window, squinting over the tops of her shades. Jackson’s profile in the darkness was distinctive.
    She relaxed, tempted to beg him to get her out of there, but then he’d know her list had been a ploy to get him to retract the proposal. No, she’d see this to the bitter end. Then he’d know how completely unsuited they were for each other.
    Marti mimicked the other women’s posture and jutted out a hip, placing a hand on the exaggerated swell before giving him a sultry smile. “Wanna date?”
    “I don’t need no girlfriend.”
    “Betcha I could make you change your mind.”
    His head tilted. “I have some cash, but can I afford you?”
    “Guess it depends on what you wanna do.”
    “Why don’t you get into the car, sugar, and we’ll negotiate.”
    Marti scoffed. “Negotiate? I think I better see what you’re offering first.”
    He reached for his wallet in the cubby of the dashboard and flipped it open, slipping out two one hundred dollar bills.
    She glanced up and down the street then pulled open the door and slid into the seat beside him.
    “You okay?” he whispered.
    “It’s not as much fun as I thought it would be,” she said, pushing her mouth into a pout.
    His lips twitched. “Wait. It’ll get better.”
    Marti turned to stare at him as he pulled away from the curb. Maybe he’d been teaching her a little lesson, but he wasn’t doing it to say “I told you so.” No, he was going to make sure she enjoyed the adventure.
    “How’d I get so lucky?” she asked softly.
    “Baby, I’m the one about to get lucky.” He pulled into an alley, rolled down the windows to let a breeze inside then cut the engine. “Get into the back seat, pull up your skirt and kneel on all fours.”
    She guessed it said something about her morals that the coarse set of instructions made her ooze excitement.
    Giving him a blinding smile, she eagerly complied as he opened his door and got out. When she was sideways on the narrow seat, her ass pointed toward the opened door, he stepped behind her and cupped her bottom.
    She widened her stance as far as she could without her right knee slipping off the leather seat.
    “Were you talkin’ to that guy in the Plymouth?” he asked, rubbing her bottom. His voice sounded calm, maybe even a bit amused.
    Already wet, she snuggled her butt against