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    “Greg and Andrew are here, too,” Elisabeth said, looping her arm through Jessica’s. “They’re inside somewhere, doing God knows what.”
    “Oh, I know what,” Marc joked.
    Lauren grinned at him. “Maybe we can join them after a dip in the pool.”
    Jessica couldn’t stop looking around her, at the luscious grounds, the huge outdoor kitchen with a grill, and the many reclining pool chairs with umbrellas beside them.
    “It’s so, so pretty here,” she whispered.
    “Thank you,” Roman said, and she laughed, not realizing she’d spoken out loud.
    “Let’s go get changed,” Lauren suggested, and grabbed Jessica’s other arm. Now she was sandwiched between the two women as they marched toward what looked like a . . . cabana?
    “He has a cabana?” she asked, wanting to get her word choice right.
    “Of course,” Elisabeth laughed. “Guests wouldn’t want to change in front of everyone. It’s really nice inside, too. There’s a bathroom and sauna, as well as several private areas to change clothes.”
    “I brought a bathing suit, “ Jessica said.
    Inside the cabana, Elisabeth opened one of the doors for her, as if letting her into a fitting room in a department store. That’s what the small stall reminded her of, although much fancier. There was a teak stool to sit on, and several hangers and hooks on the white-painted walls. Still, she could hear the voices just outside—the men talking, laughing.
    It felt like she was so very close to them as she pulled her sundress up over her head and hung it on the hook, then slipped out of her bra and panties.
    Naked. With Roman merely a few yards away.
    She quickly pulled on her bikini. It was very patriotic-looking, with a stars-and-stripes print. It had been on sale at a Walmart back in Denver. It was an old one, but it fit, so . . .
    Hopefully, since none of the rich people she had met in New York shopped there, they wouldn’t know she was decked out in Walmart’s finest. Maybe Roman and his friends would just assume it was some designer brand. Or not.
    It’s not like you need to fit in with their money. They knew she worked at WhipperSnapper. She wouldn’t be working there if she had money, so there was no reason to pretend otherwise.
    Jessica was about to open the door when she realized—she’d forgotten a beach towel. How could she forget something so simple like that?
    Stepping out of the private enclosure, she felt very undressed in her bikini. She should have brought a sarong at least. Or a stupid towel.
    Lauren and Elisabeth were chatting with each other through the thin walls as they changed. Jessica stood quietly with her arms crossed over her chest and listened. Not because she wanted to eavesdrop, but because there was nothing else to do.
    She cleared her throat so they’d know she could hear them.
    “I’ll be out in a minute, Jess,” Lauren called.
    Jess. She had only been there for ten minutes and she already had a nickname!
    “No rush, I’m just hanging out,” Jessica said. “I forgot a towel. I don’t know what I was thinking, packing a bathing suit and no towel.”
    Elisabeth stepped out of her stall wearing a beautiful bikini—black with rhinestones and little cutouts that would give her interesting tan lines.
    “I love your suit,” they both said in unison.
    Jessica laughed. “No, really, I love it. So pretty.”
    “Julian picked it out for me, so I can’t take credit,” she said, waving her hand, as if to say, no big deal.
    “Julian’s her on-call stylist,” Lauren announced, as she emerged from the room. Her voluptuous figure filled out her one-piece emerald green bathing suit perfectly, her breasts pushed up and forward by a built-in underwire.
    “You have a stylist?” Jessica asked. “Wow.”
    “He’s awesome. But he doesn’t get the BDSM thing at all. He’s always frowning when I have a new mark on me,” Elisabeth laughed. “Doesn’t matter how many times I try to explain to him