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so freaked out,
though she knew all about the list. According to Alana, no one would look
through her files and even if she’d lost it at work as she feared, someone
would return it in no time.
    But Kelly knew the truth. All her best friend cared about
was getting to the frigging club.
    “Uh, yeah. I’m wearing this.” Kelly crossed her arms over
her chest. “Why?”
    With a harrumph, Alana turned back to Kelly’s closet and
started shoving aside hangers.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Finding you Kink clothes. Jesus, Kel, you’re not going to
grab a bite at the Double Burger. You’re going to a club.”
    She looked down at herself again. “I’ve gone clubbing in
stuff like this before. I’m going to keep you company, not to score. And wait a
second. Did you say Kink clothes?”
    “Yeah. Kink’s the club we’re going to.” Alana shook back her
ink-black curls and tipped her head to examine the dress she’d unearthed. “Now
this works.”
    Kelly propped her hands on her hips. She’d only worn the
simple gold halter-top once because it was a size too small, particularly up
top. But the one and only time she’d worn it, she’d gotten really lucky with
the fifth guy on her list, so she’d kept it for old times’ sake. “Kink’s a sex
club, isn’t it?”
    “It’s whatever you want it to be, really. It’s sectioned
into three parts—vanilla, Neapolitan and chocolate cherry with nuts. The flavor
you choose is up to you.”
    “I’ve heard stories but I’ve never been.” Kelly frowned.
“Leave it to you to show up in town a couple weeks a year and hit that place up
first thing.”
    “Honey, you play at being bad and I’m the real deal.” Alana
gave her a wolfish grin. “I’m a Neapolitan girl, by the way.”
    “Which is?” she asked, trying like hell to keep her mind off
her PDA. Worrying about it all night long wouldn’t make it appear in her purse.
    “It’s better seen than described. Kink’s not a BDSM club or
anything like that, though I’m sure some of the people who go there are into
the lifestyle. They do have a room that caters to that but it’s not really my
scene. Kink’s more about the freedom to be yourself. However you want to be, with
whoever watching.”
    Kelly sat on the end of her bed and stared at her reflection
in the mirror over her dresser. She wasn’t some neophyte sexually. She’d come a
long way from her wallflower days in high school, and a lot of that was because
of the confidence her sex list had given her. She’d taken control of her sex
life in college, just as she’d regulated her diet and exercise to yield the
best body she could. Maybe she’d never be a centerfold model or, egads, cute ,
but she made the most of what she had to work with.
    Some guys found her attractive now. Even if keeping the list
had become predictable and tedious, she stayed the course. Because that was
what she did. Thanks to having unreliable parents who’d missed school events,
ignored holidays and greeted birthdays with barely a hug, she’d fought to
create her own family of friends and work. Anything to combat the loneliness
she’d never fully been able to shake.
    Much as she hated to acknowledge it, she missed her parents.
Even now, her mom and dad were strumming guitars by a campfire in Sedona rather
than returning home to celebrate their only child’s upcoming twenty-sixth
birthday, despite her admission that she wished they’d come for a visit. So
much for that.
    She’d learned to make her own routines. And to cling to
them. Routines meant safety. Familiarity. Boredom.
    Hooking up with Spencer would definitely change things up.
But the chances of it actually happening were pretty much nonexistent.
    Even if he wasn’t sleeping with Leigh, that didn’t mean he
was available. He’d spelled it out to her, hadn’t he? He was married to the
store. And he didn’t mention that he was in the market for a mistress.
    She needed, one way or another, to break her obsession