Up Close and Personal. Joanne Rock

this to seduce anyone but yourself.” She spoke from her heart, knowing the answer probably wasn’t what the woman wanted to hear, but hoping the message would make sense anyway.

      “How can I seduce myself when it’s me who notices all the cellulite every time I contract my stomach muscles?” Bryanna slowed her undulating movements, her harem-girl dancing costume not as sheer as some the other women had chosen.

      Jessica wasn’t sure if she should play it safe and make a few suggestions for setting the stage for seduction, or if she should forge ahead with what she really thought. Bad advice could cost her that coveted word-of-mouth business. But damn it, she had to trust her gut on this.

      “The dance is meant to help you see beyond the superficial of the exterior so you can feel the sensuality of the movement and tap into a new wellspring of sexual confidence and well-being.” It might sound New Agey, but the approach had worked wonders for Jessica when she’d been at her most sensually vulnerable.

      Other students slowed their dance movements to listen, the flow of sheer silk skirts and scarves coming to a halt.

      “What good is reclaiming my sexuality if I don’t have anyone to share it with?” Bryanna straightened, her body rigid with tension Jessica could feel from several feet away.

      Or maybe Jessica simply recalled too well what it felt like to experience self-doubt after her own sexual confidence had been scared into hiding.

      “Tapping into your own sensual power creates an aura of attractiveness and charisma that draws people, without any effort at all from you.” No seduction necessary.

      At that moment, someone rapped on the door to the connecting suites where they conducted their workshops. One of the students in back moved to admit the newcomer. The door frame filled with shoulders and one-hundred-percent he-man.

      Rocco Easton.

      Feminine squeals greeted his arrival as if he was some sort of rock star. Clearly he had created quite a following for himself with his fake persona of sexy waiter. Would these women still admire him if they knew his true identity or that he’d bluffed his way into their midst the night before?

      She couldn’t imagine what he wanted anyway. Hadn’t he screwed up her life enough already? Or did he want to embarrass her after all and snatch the keys to her car in front of her whole class? Still, the sight of him in khakis and a navy polo shirt that showed off amazing muscles elicited a purely feminine flutter inside her.

      “Rocco, darling.” Ingrid, the director’s wife, drew him deeper into the room. “We need you to settle a friendly disagreement we’ve been having this morning about the nature of attractiveness.”

      “If this is about lipstick color or something, I’m not going to be much help.” He sauntered inside, his eyes meeting hers. Holding.

      Jessica’s skin tickled with the memory of his touch, her heart picking up speed at just the sight of him. She might have doubts about his motives, but she didn’t doubt their sensual connection for a second. And she didn’t want any part of that sinfully sweet reaction.

      He was a repo man, a guy who sneaked onto people’s property at night to make off with the cars that struggling families depended on. He was the guy who told lies to latchkey kids about why he needed to take away a refrigerator housing nothing more than milk and a few precious eggs.