9½ Days. Mia Zachary

over the top. There were some tomatoes in the crisper and—she felt the contents of that cabinet calling to her.

      No!

      Okay, she’d skip the salad and just make vegetables crudité with some low-fat cottage cheese on the side. She slammed the refrigerator shut. It was no use. She was going to open that cabinet. She was going to reach inside and she was going to blow her diet all to hell. Like a thief sneaking into forbidden territory, Jordan rushed across the room and grabbed the bag of Dove milk chocolates. Holding it up to her face, she inhaled the addictive scent of cocoa butter and sugar.

      Just a few. Only a few.

      She walked down the hall to the living room, flopped onto the overstuffed couch and tucked her bare feet underneath her. After laying the bag beside her with the opening in easy reach of her hand, she picked up the issue of Style and Grace magazine on the far cushion. Idly flipping though the pages, Jordan unwrapped a chocolate. She’s so pretty. Not an ounce of fat anywhere on her. Another page. Another chocolate. Look at her thighs. They don’t even meet. Another. And another…

      There was Camryn.

      Her numb fingers dropped the candy she held back into the bag. Her sister looked stunning. Simply stunning. Her golden skin was bared in a flame-red slip dress with a plunging neckline. The artful lighting emphasized the high ridge of her cheekbones, the long line of her torso and the subtle definition of her athletic legs.

      Jordan looked down to see the lone chocolate left in the bag. She felt sick. Guilty and sick and weak and ugly.

      Think about something else, anything else. She’d have to run an extra mile tomorrow morning. Damn it! She tossed the magazine away and got up to turn on the television. One of the cable stations was showing Black Lace, a movie in which the main character enticed her boss with anonymous love notes.

      Yes, that was the answer. Focus on the seduction. If she could learn to act sexy and alluring, it wouldn’t matter how she looked. In the fantasies, she could be anyone she wanted. In the dark, he’d never see that she wasn’t perfect.

      She ran upstairs and got the Fifty Fast Fantasies book from her bedroom. Snuggled onto the couch once more, she ran her index finger along the table of contents until she found one she could use. A scene in the movie distracted her for a second, then she gave all of her attention to the chapter called Strangers For One Night.

      Pretend your lover is a handsome stranger. Why not pick him up as if he were a one-night stand? Surprise him in an unexpected location, wearing your naughtiest undies underneath. Let your “stranger” know that you don’t normally do things like this, but you can’t resist him. Then take him back to your place and give him a night neither of you will ever forget.

      For her this to work, Jordan would have to be sensual, naughty and fun—everything the guidebook recommended. Well, at least she could fake it. When she’d found the high-school drama class, she’d found herself. As long as she put on an act, as long as she’d played a role, she’d become confident and outgoing and even somewhat popular. It hadn’t taken long to figure out that the way she wanted people to see her was just another stage personality.

      Her grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary was a little over a week away. She needed David by her side. She needed him to perpetuate her lie. Otherwise, she could already hear her cousin’s snide taunts if she had to show up alone and admit that her engagement was a fraud.

      She could do this. She had to do this. It would give her the chance to discover her wild side. And it would save her a week of awkward questions and embarrassment. If she could act in high school and all through college and at the office, she could do it in the bedroom.

      Jordan grabbed a notepad and began making a list of things she would need to make the Strangers fantasy a reality.