Buch lesen: «Sex & The Single Girl»
“That part you mentioned about me being ready to pounce?”
Aidan’s eyes wandered over Brianne with slow deliberation. “You couldn’t be more right. I’m guessing you’ve got about three seconds before I zero in on my next target.”
She couldn’t have moved to save her life.
Not with his gaze cruising over her with every bit of sensual heat she’d ever longed for ten years ago. More. She would have never guessed back then that a man’s stare could ignite a small inferno.
For that matter, she hadn’t known until just this red-hot, blistering second. If she’d had any doubt about who Aidan’s next target might be, it was obliterated the second he moved toward her. Invaded her personal space. Crowded her.
This was a bad, bad idea. Her hungry lips and aching body didn’t seem to realize it, however.
“Does this remind you of anything, Bri?” His voice was close. Too close. He bracketed her body with his arms, steadying himself on the wall behind her.
Did it? If she wasn’t careful, she’d be so lost….
Dear Reader,
Ever since I lived in Miami Beach, I’ve never missed an opportunity to rave about the colorful setting and the vibrant mood of the place. But the challenge remained—how could I possibly convey the nuances of the infectious energy of the nightlife, the lure of Latin music, the draw of Caribbean cuisine and the steady backdrop of rolling waves behind it all?
Lucky me, I’ve got six books in which to try! Welcome to SINGLE IN SOUTH BEACH, my first miniseries for Harlequin. This month we begin with one of the new owners of the exotic Club Paradise and over the course of the series we’ll meet more of the driven women who put their creative muscle behind this hedonistic playground. Next month, be sure to check out Summer’s story in Blaze #108, Girl’s Guide to Hunting & Kissing.
For now, sit back and enjoy Brianne Wolcott and Aidan Maddock’s story. Since these two hit the town, nightlife on the strip has definitely heated up! Visit me at www.JoanneRock.com to learn more about my future releases or to let me know what you think of my books.
Happy reading,
Joanne Rock
Sex & the Single Girl
Joanne Rock
For fabulous Lisa, Jen and Arete—
my highly educated, superintelligent girlfriends whose advice
I crave most for shoes, shopping and great food.
Who says we can’t still be divas? I adore you.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Prologue
“HOLD ON TO YOUR PANTIES, girlfriends. It’s raining men just outside our front door.” Brianne Wolcott eyed the monitor from security camera number three, the one with the best view of the crowd gathered at Club Paradise’s Ocean Drive entrance—and all the gorgeous guys waiting in line. The mob of people would be checking out the newly revamped disco in another hour. Nervous energy hummed through her. As a new part-owner and head of security for the club, Brianne needed to make sure tonight’s reopening ran smoothly. “Looks like we’re in for a busy night.”
“My panties couldn’t be more firmly in place if they were Super Glued to my hips.” Lainie Reynolds, CEO of the reorganized South Beach resort and nightclub, slid into the oversize leather chair behind Brianne’s desk in the slick, modern office housing the club’s high-tech equipment. “Divorce will do that to you.”
The four founding members of the soon-to-be hottest spot on Miami’s trendy South Beach had called a meeting an hour before they opened their doors for business. Although Club Paradise had been a wildly successful resort for couples over the last five years, the three former partners behind that business—known locally as the Rat Pack—had absconded with the profits. Brianne’s stepfather had been one of those partners, Lainie’s husband another.
With Lainie’s business savvy and legal guidance, the women left behind in the wake of the embezzlement scheme had pulled together to restructure the company. Tonight they were reopening just the club. In a few weeks, they’d have the rest of the resort refurbished and ready for guests.
The couples theme was out, however. Given that three of the four women who now owned the business had been deceived by husbands or boyfriends in the Rat Pack, the new owners had no desire to market themselves for the sticky-sweet couples’ demographic. Club Paradise would slowly be overhauled into a singles’ haven—a lush, hedonistic oasis for the uninhibited.
And although Brianne hadn’t been dumped by a husband or boyfriend in the Rat Pack—merely inconvenienced by her highly immoral stepfather—she’d still bought into the singles theme. She had a hideous track record in the dating world, and even worse experience as part of a couple. She couldn’t wait to enjoy the lavish, sensual luxuries the club would provide.
Summer Farnsworth, another founding partner and the ambiance coordinator for the club, approached the television screen teeming with men. She blew a kinky blond curl out of her eyes and traced a finger over a muscle-bound motorcycle rider who had pulled in front of the line outside. “I don’t know, Lainie. Even Super Glue might not be strong enough to resist the temptations we are going to be subjecting ourselves to in this line of work. Have you seen these guys?”
Brianne suspected Summer would be the quickest to find romance—or at least some sensual diversion— during the course of their upcoming endeavor. Sort of a flower child throwback, Summer prided herself on lack of inhibitions and what she called “living in the moment.” While Brianne had never considered herself uptight, next to earthy Summer and her seductive wardrobe of silk skirts and halter tops, Brianne sometimes feared her tailored clothes and dark colors made her look downright repressed.
“Been there, done that,” Lainie shot back, slowly spinning in the oversize black leather chair behind Brianne’s seldom-used desk, her sleek platinum hair not daring to move out of place. “And I lost half my life savings in the process. You can decorate the club with as many nude statues and erotic paintings of flowers as you want, Summer, a new relationship doesn’t even begin to tempt me. What about you, Brianne? Are you looking for a Mr. Right Now tonight?”
Not yet. She was more interested in keeping an eye out for a Mr. Wrong from her ancient past. Rumor had it FBI agent Aidan Maddock was investigating the scandal that had rocked the club last year, and he was the last man Brianne needed to see. Sure, Aidan might have held more than a little appeal for her at one time, but the man held a grudge against her stepfather and had proved himself impervious to Brianne’s every seductive machination ten years ago. He’d be better off remaining in her past.
But Brianne wasn’t entirely comfortable with spilling her intimate thoughts to women she’d only known for all of a month. “I’ll be too busy doing my job.” Keeping an eye out for the agent she suspected would be watching Club Paradise very carefully. “Speaking of which, I’ve got some security concerns I’d like to share as soon as Giselle arrives—”
“Sorry I’m late.” On cue, the club’s head chef, Giselle Cesare, burst through the office door. A petite, dark-haired Italian-American, Giselle was a nonstop bundle of energy. She balanced a tray of exotic drinks topped with fortune cookies in one hand. “I thought the start of our new venture deserved a toast.” She lowered the tray of drinks on to the desk with a flourish. “Introducing the Good Fortune Potion, newest specialty of the house.”
While Summer squealed, Brianne hurried to stuff a glass in Lainie’s hand. Lainie was having a difficult time getting over the fact that her husband had not only embezzled half her money, he’d also indulged in a quick affair with Giselle before he’d skipped town. What Lainie didn’t seem to understand was that the bastard had hurt Giselle nearly as much in the process, providing her with more guilt than a guileless twenty-five-year-old deserved. Giselle had had no idea that the man had been married.
But even Lainie seemed to catch the momentary spirit of camaraderie and she sipped at her drink, too.
“This is awesome.” Brianne raised her glass to the chef and temporary bartender. “But before we toast the grand opening, I wanted to suggest we open our doors a little earlier than we anticipated to try and minimize the crowds out front. There are already journalists swarming and I don’t want our guests getting hassled about the club’s old scandals.” Nor did she want to miss her stepfather’s nemesis, agent Aidan Maddock, if he tried to get in the disco tonight.
Lainie and Summer were both shaking their heads before she finished. Lainie set her fortune cookie on a cocktail napkin atop Brianne’s shiny lacquered desk.
“We want the press, Bri, even if it’s negative,” she argued. “And we definitely don’t want to lose the long line out front as that’s one of the main elements of cachet for a hot spot.”
“Not to mention the moon is void of course until almost eleven tonight,” Summer added, clutching one of her crystal necklaces as if for good luck. “We agreed to open at eleven because by then the moon will be entering Aries and the stars will be in a favorable position for the new venture.”
Brianne focused very hard on her fortune cookie to prevent herself from rolling her eyes. “But it’s difficult for the surveillance cameras to detect images with the bright lights of the television crew glaring into their lenses. I’d hate to have a security breach our first night because we failed to take a few simple precautions.”
Brianne recognized the importance of security measures. Her last relationship before she’d left New York had been with a guy who couldn’t seem to take no for an answer. If not for her techno-gizmos and stepped-up security measures, she might have actually been concerned for her personal safety. Did it hurt to be a little careful?
“I could send some of my erotic pastries out to the TV group,” Giselle offered, tapping one short, efficient fingernail on her glass. “That might distract them a little longer until we’re ready to open the doors.”
“Send some of the Kama Sutra cookies,” Summer urged, “those pretzel positions ought to keep the crew intrigued for at least another hour.”
Lainie shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to waste her most delicate work on the media.” She sniffed in distaste at the word. But then, all of the members of Club Paradise’s new ownership had been scrutinized in the news over the past few weeks. “I think most of the reporters are male, so I bet a box of the doughnuts with cherry nipples ought to be distraction enough. Good thinking.”
Brianne exchanged surprised glances with Summer. The compliment was the most civil exchange Giselle and Lainie had managed all month.
“Is that okay with you, Bri?” Lainie asked.
“It ought to work. Heaven knows I wouldn’t want to disrupt our moon timing.”
“We all want tonight to be a success, don’t we?” Summer asked, unoffended. “A little help from a favorable celestial alignment couldn’t hurt.”
“Neither could a toast,” Brianne agreed, lifting her Good Fortune Potion high in the air. “To the success of Club Paradise.”
“To a feast for the senses,” added Giselle, clinking her glass in time with her words.
Lainie rose to her feet. “To a fat bottom line and sweet, financial revenge.”
Summer sidled over to the group. “And for crying out loud, girlfriends, let’s have a little fun while we’re at it. May we all enjoy the single life at its absolute, delicious best.”
Their collective clank of glasses sent Good Fortune Potion spilling down their arms and to the floor as they christened their partnership and began a friendship.
1
THE PROMISED FORECAST of raining men had turned into an outright downpour. Too bad Brianne couldn’t seem to enjoy all that testosterone right now.
She slipped away from the sizzling salsa beat and raucous voices in the disco’s Moulin Rouge Lounge to seek the privacy of her office. Not only because she’d never been that much of a party girl, but also because she took tonight’s job seriously.
After the Rat Pack embezzlement and the difficulties the new ownership had faced getting Club Paradise back on track, Brianne wasn’t about to risk any security breaches to land them in tomorrow’s newspapers. From the safety of her high-tech office haven, Brianne could survey lovers’ quarrels on the dance floor or cat-fights near the ladies room—anything with the potential to attach more scandal to the club’s name.
She’d be damn sure nothing happened on her watch. Not with her entire life savings wrapped up in the club now.
Her finger settled over the mouse on her computer to click through the security monitors in the unused portion of the hotel. There shouldn’t be any activity in the resort rooms tonight, just empty scaffolding and paint cans that were part of Summer’s massive decorating overhaul.
She clicked on autopilot, zipping through the views of the former Sweethearts Suite, the Lovebirds Nest and the excessively gilded Honeymoon Heaven. She was about to flip screens back to the lounge when a movement in Honeymoon Heaven caught her eye.
Instantly alert, Brianne pressed a few more buttons to tell the camera to zoom in on a shadowy figure crouched beside the bed. Nerves tense, she waited as the lens refocused and lightened the picture at her command.
Lo and behold, the dark shadow slowly rose from the floor and turned into a huge bear of a man. Standing at a good six-foot-four, he dwarfed the delicate white, heart-shaped bed. His dark hair reached his collar, a bit overgrown and as tousled as if he’d just crawled out of bed with an overenthusiastic woman. A short Fu Manchu beard-mustache combo gave him the trendy-scruffy look of South Beach.
He wore a Harley T-shirt with jeans that had seen better days. Reflective sunglasses perched in his hair even though it was well past midnight.
And for the second time in her life, Brianne thought he was the most unusual-looking FBI agent she’d ever seen.
After ten years, Aidan Maddock hadn’t changed a bit.
Her heart jumped a bit out of rhythm as she stared at the object of her eighteen-year-old fantasies. She’d half expected to see him tonight, given his unrelenting pursuit of her ex-stepfather’s criminal activities. Did Aidan really think she’d be hiding her crooked old man under the bed in the Honeymoon Heaven?
She needed to get him out of the club. And she would go confront him. Soon.
For now, she couldn’t resist another minute or two to just look her fill. She’d wondered during her years working in the film industry in New York if she’d imagined how intriguing-looking Aidan had been.
She hadn’t.
Perhaps it was merely the producer-director in her that so enjoyed watching the way his big body moved, the way he dominated his environment at every turn. But her accelerated breathing led her to think her reaction had very little to do with her work as a director.
And everything to do with being a woman.
He looked utterly out of place in the white room overflowing with lace and gold accents. He picked up a miniature music box in the shape of an old-fashioned woman’s boot and poked at it with one large finger.
The absurdity of the gesture reminded her that she’d always thought they’d be a great match because Aidan would overshadow a more delicate woman. At five-foot-eleven, Brianne had never been a fragile flower.
Silly, romantic thinking of an eighteen-year-old.
Dismissing the notion, Brianne flicked off the camera zoom and prepared to confront Aidan in person.
Until one of Club Paradise’s new employees sidled across Brianne’s monitor screen and insinuated herself in front of Aidan. Brianne recognized the cigarette girl from the Moulin Rouge Lounge. A definite fragile flower, the young woman had wide blue eyes and sort of fluffy blond hair. She looked innocent as a damn baby chick, but she was probably close to the age Brianne had been when she’d fallen hard for Aidan.
Only Aidan looked at this newcomer with considerable more interest than he’d ever shown Brianne.
Not that she cared. It was a purely detached observation. Something Brianne had gotten very good at during her years spent in New York. After her overly dramatic childhood with a temperamental mother and a charming, white-collar criminal stepfather, Brianne had become a quick study in detachment.
Scooping up her handheld computer, she switched the picture from the Honeymoon Heaven camera on to the miniature device so she could keep tabs on the action while she walked through the club to the resort’s tacky white room. Aidan hadn’t needed to pick any locks to get into the suite, but he was definitely treading where he shouldn’t have been by ignoring the signs saying Employees Only.
For that matter, the cigarette girl was way out of line, too. Brianne would tell her that as soon as the elevator reached the top floor.
As soon as she shoved open the door and—
Real life collided with the image on the monitor as Brianne walked in on Aidan and the cigarette girl in a liplock to set a woman’s heart racing. The stacked little blonde pressed every one of her considerable curves against Aidan and practically climbed her way up his tall body.
Brianne lounged in the door frame, determined not to allow any stray feelings to tangle themselves up in what needed to be accomplished here.
Instead, she steeled herself against the sultry over-load of hormones in Honeymoon Heaven and took command of the room in her best director voice.
“Am I interrupting something?”
AIDAN MADDOCK HAD BEEN waiting to hear that throaty purr all night.
He hadn’t particularly wanted to hear it while he had Daisy Stephenson clinging to him like a honeysuckle vine.
Luckily, Brianne Wolcott had the kind of take-no-shit attitude that even a little rebel like Daisy respected. She leaped off him like a scared rabbit and scampered out of the room before he could discreetly thank her for her minimal spying efforts this week. He paid her to be an informant, not a sexual booby trap, but he’d have to wait to explain that until next time they met.
Now, he needed to focus all his attention on Brianne as they were suddenly very alone.
“Nice to see you again, Brianne.” Aidan mentally scrambled to cross swords with the stepdaughter of his recurring nemesis. The same man who’d been at the root of his first-ever FBI case had eluded Aidan and half the police force in Dade County. He would need to be on his toes tonight if he was going to gather any useful leads. “You look…” Hot. Sexy. A hell of a lot better than he’d even remembered. “…great.”
Understatement of the year. The body that had already been slender and seductive at eighteen was worthy of its own pinup calendar ten years later. Her stark black skirt and blouse were slim-fitting and simple, accentuating the sleek, elegant curves of her body. With her long auburn hair and creamy pale skin, she possessed the hot-to-trot attributes of one of those too-cool female cartoon characters in a kick-ass video game geared toward guys.
Not that he ever wasted his time playing video games or anything.
She snapped her handheld computer closed. A half smile kicked up one corner of her soft, peach-colored lips. “Thank you. Although I can’t imagine you’re finding it all that nice to see me since I’ve not only busted you in an off-limits zone, but I also caught you with your pants down.” She let her gaze wander southward to his jeans. “Figuratively speaking, at least.”
The supercharge jolt to his libido was immediate and dead-on accurate. If Daisy Stephenson was a sexual booby trap, Brianne Wolcott was nothing short of dynamite.
He whistled, low and long, like a kettle hissing off steam. “You left Miami as a sweet young thing with big dreams, and now you come sauntering back like hell on wheels. What exactly did those New Yorkers do to you, Bri?”
She tilted her head against the door frame, obviously unruffled by his observation. “Nothing I didn’t want them to. Now, are you going to leave quietly, Maddock, or am I going to have to call security?”
She used to be so damn sweet. So trusting. She’d been naive enough to trust him when he had been gunning for her stepfather in a federal case ten years ago.
“Come on, Brianne. We both know the extent of your new security team is you. For now, at least. Why don’t we sit down and catch up for a few minutes instead? You can tell me all about your stepdad’s latest scheme.” Bottom line, he was here on a mission.
He needed information on Rat Pack ringleader Mel Baxter, a slick crook with a knack for pulling off big scams and walking away clean. After Aidan’s investigative efforts had failed to produce enough evidence to convict Baxter a decade ago, Aidan’s professional reputation was riding on this investigation. He did not need a so-sexy-it-hurts woman from his past fogging up his brain cells.
Brianne straightened in the doorway and strolled closer. Her black outfit clashed with the sticky-sweet white lace fabrics in Honeymoon Heaven. Aidan realized he was tracking the progress of her hips with his eyes and ruthlessly wrenched his gaze upward.
“I made the mistake of having loose lips around you once before, Maddock.” She stopped just outside his personal space, leaving him all of six inches to breathe. “And I guarantee it’s not going to happen again.”
His jaw tightened along with every other movable body part. What sort of freaking perversity made it impossible not to want a woman who declared herself off-limits?
He should have felt ashamed at her obvious reference to the one time he’d slipped up and returned her enthusiastic kiss in those last months before she left for New York. But all he could feel was overwhelming curiosity about what it would be like to be on the receiving end of a kiss like that now.
“Never say never.” He had to keep this conversation light, nonconfrontational if he ever expected to cultivate Brianne’s help. God knows, he needed a break somewhere if he was going to catch up with his quarry. “Haven’t you heard it’s dangerous to tempt fate?”
“Is that a warning, Agent Maddock?” She leaned fractionally closer, getting in his face as boldly as any sparring partner he’d ever encountered. The tough-girl effect was mitigated, however, when a sexy strand of auburn hair slithered out of place and fell forward over one shoulder.
“Just a little friendly advice from your local FBI guy, that’s all.” He tried hard not to imagine what it would feel like to run his fingers over that shiny red curl. And failed. “Because I like you, Brianne, I’ll give you another tip. You’d be doing yourself a favor if you let me know when Mel gets in touch with you.”
She rocked back on her heels, the first sign she might not be as cool, calm and collected as she wanted him to think. Her eyes widened just a fraction before she pivoted away.
Aidan’s professional instincts went on high alert. “He hasn’t already tried to contact you, has he?”
Brianne flipped open the miniature computer she’d been carrying in one hand and checked the tiny monitor screen. “I’m not certain I’d be discussing it with you if he had. But rest assured, I don’t want anything to do with Melvin and he knows it. He’s my ex-stepfather, and he has been for a long time, remember?” She closed the computer again and her gaze connected with Aidan’s. “Look, I don’t have time to escort you to the parking lot since I’ve got to get back to work. I just came up here to tell you to get out of my business and don’t come back.”
She edged around a half-erected piece of scaffolding and headed for the door.
“Wait, Bri—”
“Oh, and because I like you, Aidan,” she turned when she reached the gilded archway of cherubs and vines that led to the hall, “let me give you a little friendly advice.”
Hell, this meeting had gone so abysmally, maybe he ought to be taking advice from the crook’s daughter. He folded his arms and waited.
She cocked a hand on one gently curved hip. “Next time you want to pull a covert snooping mission, why don’t you choose a room that’s not under camera surveillance?”
Aidan would have liked to have argued he hadn’t been trying to be sneaky. But of course, that would have been a flat out lie. By the time his gaze discovered the tinted panel in the mirrored ceiling, Brianne’s high heels were already clicking their way down the Moroccan tiles of the hallway floor.
Didn’t that go over well?
He was supposed to be investigating Florida’s biggest thief of the last decade yet he waltzed in here tonight making rookie mistakes left and right because Brianne Wolcott was involved in his case.
Sure, he’d wanted Brianne to find him tonight—he’d needed to talk to her. But he hadn’t meant for her to discover him kissing the cigarette girl or to record his antics on film. His mistake in not noticing the camera panel ought to damn well teach him not to wear sunglasses past dusk.
Brianne had been right. She had, without a doubt, caught him with his pants down.
But not for long. Aidan might have been surprised at the level of awareness she sparked in him, but next time they met, he’d be prepared. He’d think about baseball while he spoke with her, if that’s what it took to safeguard against inappropriate thoughts.
He was going to have a real conversation with Brianne now. A talk that didn’t involve sexual innuendo or past recriminations. A talk that focused solely on his case.
Chucking his shades in a cupid-covered trash can on the way out the door, Aidan rooted around his brain for enough baseball trivia to stifle all sexual thoughts while he talked to Brianne. As if that were possible.
He could read Baseball Weekly cover-to-cover and not find enough to distract him from mile-long legs and her I’m-in-charge strut.
Nevertheless, as he made his way through the lobby toward the offices at the back of the club, he started ticking off slugging percentages for the whole Marlins’ roster.
OBVIOUSLY, BRIANNE HAD been immune to the Good Fortune Potion. Having the FBI show up her first night in business definitely equaled bad mojo. Especially when the guy with the badge happened to be the object of an embarrassing ancient crush.
She wound through the darkened resort lobby on her way back to her office, all the while wondering why the federal investigator assigned to her smarmy stepfather couldn’t have been fifty and balding. Or a woman. Or even a guy who looked remotely like a Fed was supposed to—sharp suit, regulation haircut, clean-shaven.
Instead, she got all six-foot-four of non-conforming Aidan who looked more like a Hells Angel.
Sighing, she slipped into the safety of her office and cursed her predilection for rebels. Hadn’t she learned anything from dating that psycho guitarist in New York? Sure, his tortured music had appealed to her as a fellow social outsider, but maybe she should have taken the electric-blue highlights in his hair at face value. Jimmy had been out of control.
Not bothering to flip on the light, Brianne checked her monitors and slid out of her shoes, padding silently around the glass-and-mirror studio in her bare feet. Summer had puzzled over how anyone could work in an environment so coldly sterile, but Brianne had never been one to reveal too much of herself. She preferred her remote haven to the raucous party taking shape on monitor number one.
She turned up the volume on the video feed from the stage camera in the Moulin Rouge Lounge. The floor show was just getting underway with dancers in white-feathered headdresses that were far more elaborate than their skimpy costumes. Yet as Brianne absorbed the images of half-dressed women striking deliberately erotic poses, all she could think of was the even more enticing video in her possession.
The archived footage of Aidan Maddock prowling around Honeymoon Heaven.
Assuring herself she only wanted to look at it for a minute, Brianne flicked the appropriate switches on her control panel until the cupid quarters flashed up on the main screen. The gilded white room was vacant now.
Maybe Aidan had realized Club Paradise was exactly what the new ownership purported—a legitimate business out to recoup the losses of its former incarnation. All the women involved in rejuvenating the scandal-mired resort either wanted a chance to make back the money they’d lost when the Rat Pack left town, or they wanted an opportunity to prove themselves career-wise. Some of them were hoping for a little of both.
Brianne rewound the archived footage until she found the moment Aidan entered the room—only about five minutes before she’d discovered him. She smiled in spite of herself as she watched him in action. Instead of breaking out his fingerprint kit or high-tech phone tap equipment, Agent Maddock had pumped six quarters into the hospitality cabinet to earn himself a Milky Way bar that was probably a year old.
Then, as if testing the mattress, he’d bounced on the heart-shaped bed for a minute before peering into every nook and cranny of the saccharin-sweet accommodations.
Her gaze drank in the sight of his rangy body. He’d been that tall ten years ago, but his frame hadn’t been quite as solid. Muscles filled out his Harley T-shirt now, stretching the well-worn fabric in a way that made Brianne’s mouth water.
No doubt about it. Aidan Maddock still sizzled her from the inside out and no amount of her in-your-face bravado was going to change that.
