A little while later, Brenna dragged herself from the bed, heading to the bathroom to wash up a bit. She took off her shoes, then shed her skirt on the way, exhausted but bubbling with a happiness she’d never quite experienced before. She felt downright giddy. And dreamy. About sex. About Damon. She’d just never known it could be this good. She’d never known being so naughty could feel so invigorating. It felt as if Damon had opened a whole part of life to her that she couldn’t have experienced without him, and her entire body hummed with an unsurpassed satisfaction.

Peering into the mirror, she sighed happily. She’d quickly grown used to her new hair color and cut. And now…she was even getting used to being a highly sexed woman, using her body in exactly the way it had been built to use.

And it suddenly hit her once more, with new force…that new Brenna didn’t really exist anymore—because this wasn’t an act anymore, someone she was pretending to be, or even trying to be. She really was new Brenna now, totally at home with Damon and totally at ease with all the outrageous sex they enjoyed together.

And this was probably stupid, probably dangerous as hell to even let herself ponder, but what if…what if this all somehow worked out and Damon wasn’t fired and they did keep working together? What if what happened in Vegas didn’t stay in Vegas, after all? What if they spent so much time together that he realized he was crazy about her, more than just physically, and that maybe a relationship wasn’t really such a horrible thing?

Letting out another sigh, this one girlishly hopeful, she withdrew her gaze from her reflection and reemerged into the bedroom, where she found that Damon, too, had kicked off his clothes and made his way under the covers. God, he looked good lying there, all sleepy and sexy and rumpled—and spent, because of her.

“Cell phone’s blinking, babe,” he told her, eyes shut.

She swung her gaze to the dressing table at one side of the room, where she’d dropped her purse and phone earlier. She’d left them at the hotel every night they’d gone out, having decided the purse would be a hindrance she didn’t need, especially since Damon’s Blue Night credit card covered all her travel expenses. And that was before she’d even understood that so much sex would be involved, so it had turned out to be an excellent decision.

Padding naked to the table, she picked up the phone, flipped it open, and retrieved the message.

Then she heard Jenkins’ voice. “Just checking in with you, Brenna. Damon mentioned in e-mail that you’re learning fast and have a real ear for music, so good job. Especially since things aren’t looking promising with Claire. I wouldn’t be surprised if she files suit very soon, and if that happens, you know what it means—Damon’s out and you’re in.”

Oh hell.

She flipped the phone shut, hoping Damon was asleep.

No such luck. “Anything important?”

“No.”

“Then why do you look upset?”

She glanced over to find his gorgeous brown eyes now open and studying her with clear concern.

“It was Kelly,” she fudged. “She’s having man trouble, that’s all.”

“Ah,” he said, tipping his head back lightly into the pillow, then letting his eyes close again. “Turn out the lights and come to bed. I want to wrap around you.”

So now she’d lied to him. Up to this moment, it had only been deceit, keeping something from him that affected him greatly, and that had been awful enough. But now she had pointedly, purposefully, lied to keep her dirty little secret.

And like she’d told Kelly when all this had started, she hated lying.

She did her best to swallow back the stinging guilt as she flipped off the bedside lamp and crawled beneath the covers with her lover—the man she was misleading in order to steal his job.