

Jenna Wilson felt like doing something wild and crazy, something totally out of character for the sweet, obedient good girl she'd been all her life. As the only child of a wealthy, socially prominent couple who waited until midlife to start a family, Jenna had been spoiled. On the other hand, extra pressure had been put on her to please her parents---something she had obediently done since childhood. Somehow she'd always sensed that her parents' happiness depended upon her actions. A weighty burden to place on a kid's shoulders, but one Jenna had felt even more acutely these past two years since her father's death. Her mother expected so much from her; and God knew she tried to please Nelda Wilson in every way possible. She'd even given up her own plans to attend Texas A&M in Corpus Christi in order to carry on a family tradition and attend Tensley College, her mother's and grandmother's alma mater. And next month after she graduated, with a double major in History and English, she'd be expected to join all the right clubs, attend all the right parties and begin the extensive search for the proper husband. No doubt her mother would have a hand in choosing her husband; after all, it wouldn't do for Nelda Wilson's daughter to marry beneath her. And what would be so different about her mother choosing her mate? Hadn't her parents always made all her decisions for her? They had chosen her friends, her boyfriends, her high school and college classes and even her extracurricular activities.
God, how she hated her life! She was twenty-one, wasn't she? Legally an adult. She should be free to live her own life, to do whatever she truly wanted to do. Hadn't she promised herself that once she graduated, she would confront her mother and at long last take charge of her own life? And that's exactly what she intended to do.
If only she'd already had that all-important talk with her mother, then maybe she wouldn't be facing the nightmare event planned for May 11. When her mother had told her about the plans for her to participate in the debutante ball at the Lone Star Country Club, why hadn't she vetoed the idea of her "coming out" along with girls several years her junior? Why hadn't she simply said, "I don't want to do it. It doesn't matter that I had to miss out on the ball when Daddy got sick and died. I'm too old now to be parading around in a big, white pouffy dress. With final exams and graduation so close, I don't have time for this nonsense." But of course she hadn't refused. What defense did she have against her mother's reminder that it was a tradition in her family for the young ladies to be presented to society at this annual ball? For heaven's sake, her great-great-grandmother Rose had been a debutante!
Jenna flopped down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. Even this apartment and her two roommates, Katie Boyd and Dana Lewis, had had to pass inspection and receive the stamp of approval from Nelda. Both girls were from good families and their mothers were part of Nelda's social circle. It wasn't that she didn't like Katie and Dana---she did. But neither girl was any more liberated than she was. Wasn't that why Nelda had chosen them? Because they were under their mothers' thumbs, just as she was.
So what made Jenna think that she would finally have the courage to break free once she graduated from Tensley? Wouldn't she simply look her mother in the eye, as she'd done in the past, then open her mouth to speak and be struck dumb? Probably. And if that happened, she would wake up one morning a few years from now married to some stodgy banker or lawyer, whom she didn't love, and find herself reliving her mother's life instead of living her own.
Her dreams hadn't mattered to anyone, least of all her parents. Her mother had scoffed at the idea of her attending A&M to seek an art degree, then moving to Chicago or New York, getting her own apartment, working at one of the museums to earn a living while pursuing her goal of becoming a professional artist. Her parents had allowed her to paint as a hobby, but according to them, the only true profession for a lady---even in the twenty-first century---was being a society wife. But Jenna knew she would suffocate and die if she were to live that sort of life.
Oh, what she'd give to break free, to go out and howl at the moon, to kick up her heels and do something---anything---totally outrageous. Tonight. Now. Right this minute! What she needed was just one wild ride of excitement and adventure.
Jenna shot straight up, hopped out of bed and flung open her closet door. Flipping through her wardrobe, she found absolutely nothing that wasn't "suitable" attire. For what she had in mind, she'd need something sexy, something that announced to the world that the woman wearing it was ready for a good time. Just as she'd given up on finding something, she spotted a pair of faded jeans that she'd stopped wearing because they were a size 4 and she was now a size 6. Perfect choice, she thought. Skintight, accentuating every curve of her lower body. After yanking the jeans off the rack, she tossed them onto her bed. On to Step Two of her plan.
Rushing out of her bedroom, she called to her roommates. "It's Friday night and none of us has a date. Why don't we do something together?"
"We are doing something together." Dana, her dark brown eyes half-hidden behind silver-framed glasses, glanced up from where she sat at the small flat-top desk in the living room, charts and graphs spread out before her. "We're supposed to be studying. Finals are coming up in a few weeks and if I'm going to graduate, then I---"
"You'll ace the exams," plump, green-eyed Katie said as she emerged from the kitchen carrying a bowl of ice cream. "You and Jenna both. I'm the one who has to worry. I don't have a 4.0 grade point average."
Patting herself on the chest, as if having heart palpitations, Dana moaned sarcastically. "Oh, no, you have only a 3.8."
"Let's face facts. We'll all three ace those finals and we know it. We've worked like demons for the past few years to keep up our grades to pacify our parents." Jenna went over to Katie and took the bowl of ice cream out of her hand, then placed it on the table atop Dana's papers.
"Hey, watch it," Dana complained.
Jenna reached down, grabbed Dana's hands and pulled her to her feet. As she grabbed Katie around the waist, the girl gasped. Jenna held tightly to both of her roommates. "We're not going to study tonight and we're not going to stay here while the rest of the world is out there having fun. Just because our parents stuck us in a women's college doesn't mean there aren't a lot of men out there."
Dana's black curls bounced around her face as she shook her head. "I just want to know one thing---what have you done with my friend Jenna Wilson? Are you her clone? Or did you simply take over her body?"
Jenna laughed, loving the very thought that she wasn't acting like her usual logical, well-behaved self. "Come on. Where's your spirit of adventure? Haven't you ever wanted to go somewhere you shouldn't, and do something forbidden, with someone really bad?"
A warm flush colored Katie's cheeks as she smiled. "Yes, I have. But I've never had the guts to do it."
"You've both lost your minds," Dana said, but when she tried to pull away, Jenna held even tighter. When the two looked squarely at each other, Dana conceded, "Oh, all right. Yes. But I'm not the kind of girl who...well, let's face it---I'm the bookworm type, the girl who's had one sexual experience in her whole life."
"That's one up on me," Katie said.
"Me, too," Jenna admitted.
"Oh, great," Dana said. "So what are you suggesting that two virgins and a semivirgin do to get in trouble?"
With a wicked smile on her lips, Jenna danced her friends around the room. "I say let's put on the most slutty outfits we can pull together and drive over to Mission Creek to the Saddlebag Bar. I hear that place is really wild. Lots of cowboys drinking, shooting pool and looking to get laid. We can drink and dance and flirt like crazy."
"And what will our parents say if they find out?" Dana asked.
"Why should they find out?" Jenna said. "Besides, that's part of the fun---doing something that our mothers wouldn't approve of."
"I'm game if y'all are," Katie said.
"Oh, all right," Dana told them. "Count me in."
Brent Jameson downed the last drops of his beer and set the empty bottle on a nearby table before taking his turn in the game he was playing with Clay Hargett, one of the other ranch hands who worked with him at the Carson Ranch just outside Mission Creek. Brent was taking a working holiday away from his job in Chicago as a commodities analyst. His specialty was the cattle industry, but he'd lived away from his hometown of Kansas City, Texas, for ten years and felt he needed a refresher course in being a cowpoke. What better way to stay on top of things in the cattle industry than by doing some firsthand research?
"Six ball in the side pocket," Brent said as he took his shot. He wasn't a professional by any means, but he was a damn good pool player and won more games than he lost up against the guys here at the Saddlebag Bar.
"I see now that I'm going to lose my twenty bucks." Clay smiled in his good-natured, easygoing way.
Brent had found that he enjoyed the hard work and the simple, down-to-earth rest and relaxation guys like Clay experienced. The physically draining job on a ranch, as well as the rough and ready downtime, was addictive. But Brent knew that nothing could ever be as exciting, as exhilarating, as satisfying as his job and his lifestyle back in Chicago. As much as he enjoyed playing cowboy, it wasn't the life for him. After two weeks on a ranch outside Laredo, owned by one of his father's old friends, he'd moved on to Mission Creek, where he was working incognito on the Carson Ranch. Flynt Carson had been a business associate for several years and readily agreed to hire Brent on a temporary basis.
After his stint in Texas, he'd return to Chicago, to his tailor-made suits, his expensive condo and his sleek, silver Jaguar convertible. The first thing he would do when he went home was telephone one of the lovely ladies he knew. Any one of a dozen would do just fine. Cheryl, with her mane of black hair and legs that went on forever. Or maybe glamorous redheaded Erica, who liked to play rough. Or Stephanie, with the cantaloupe-size boobs, who knew every trick in the book. Oh, yeah. He had his first night back in Chicago planned. He would take the lucky woman to dinner, to the theater and then to bed.
He'd been too long without a woman. Although he was considered something of a playboy, he didn't customarily have one-night stands. He was always careful in every way a man needed to be careful when it came to sex. And that's all it was for him---sex. He wasn't ready for some woman to rope and brand him. Fortunately, he had yet to meet the female who could wrap him around her little finger.
Sinking the eight ball into the corner pocket, Brent ended his third game with Clay, winning their twenty-dollar bet. Just as he shook hands with his opponent, he heard somebody let out a long, low and very loud whistle that instantly gained his attention. He and half the men in the Saddlebag Bar visually searched the room, seeking the object of that hungry wolf whistle.
And there she was. My God, what a beauty. Petite but voluptuous. No more than five-two, with a to-die-for body. Young and luscious. Her skintight faded jeans hugged her trim hips and firm, round butt. A skimpy, white tank top left little to the imagination, revealing the swell of her large, full breasts and the tiny span of her bare waist. Her long, straight, baby blond hair caressed her naked back as she walked.
Just looking at her gave Brent a hard-on.
Jenna had never felt so self-conscious in her entire life. Her heart beat ninety to nothing, pounding so loudly that she could barely hear the band. All sounds blended together into one big roar inside her head. Katie and Dana followed her, somewhat reluctantly. They had ended up taking pieces from their own wardrobes, along with items borrowed from fellow Tensley students, to put together their ensembles. Admittedly, Jenna's outfit was the most provocative, but she loved feeling seductive. Her new and heady sense of power pleased her greatly.
A country and western band played loud, she-done-him wrong music, which mixed with the drone of talking, laughing and occasional cursing. Smoke created a thin haze, a transparent gray sheen coating the interior of the roadhouse. Huge ceiling fans swirled and whined softly. Couples clung to each other on the dance floor and others made out in darkened corners. A section just off the dance floor held numerous small tables, with a variety of customers seated in the wooden chairs. Men and women congregated around the four pool tables in the back of the roadhouse and the crowded bar area was filled to capacity.
When someone let out a loud whistle, Jenna instinctively knew the guy was whistling at her. She'd had boys following her around like lovesick puppy dogs ever since she'd outgrown her training bra, but her parents' tight rein on her social life had curtailed any chance of romance. That was why she was a twenty-one-year-old virgin.
Dana grabbed Jenna's arm. "He's whistling at you!"
"He looks mean and dirty," Katie said. "Oh, gee, I wish we hadn't come here."
"We should leave now, before we get in trouble," Dana said.
"No. We aren't leaving," Jenna told them. "Remember why we came here. Fun. Excitement. A walk on the wild side."
"I don't think I have a wild side." Dana dug in her heels---her red, four inch spike heels she'd borrowed from a friend---and refused to budge.
"Have you ever seen so many hot, sweaty men in your life?" Katie scanned the honky-tonk, her eyes wide with wonder, like a kid in a candy shop, overwhelmed by the abundance of goodies.
"There has to be a guy in here for each of us." Jenna surveyed the bar, where the man who'd whistled at her stood. He waved at her and grinned. No, not him, she thought. He wasn't what she was looking for---a little too old, probably thirty-five, and skinny as a rail. "It's just a matter of zeroing in on what we want. We might have better luck if we separate and scout out the area."
"I'm not separating." Dana grabbed Katie's arm and held tight.
A tall, lanky cowboy, with a winning smile and sandy brown hair approached them. He gave Jenna a once-over, nodded and then went straight past her to Katie.
"Hi, there," he said. "I'm Andy Bolden. How about a dance?"
"Uh...ah..." Katie stammered. Her cheeks flushed bright pink.
Jenna jerked Katie free from Dana's tenacious hold, then gave Katie a shove toward Andy. "She'd love to dance."
As Andy led Katie toward the dance floor, Dana stared dumbfounded as her friend disappeared in the crowd. "What just happened?"
Jenna continued searching, her gaze pausing occasionally when she saw an interesting specimen. "Huh?"
"You just sent Katie off with a perfect stranger."
"So what?"
"So...so...oh, I don't know, just so."
Jenna saw him on the far side of the room, near one of the pool tables. That's him, she decided. If ever a guy's appearance epitomized the bad boy image, this man's did. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of just what somebody like that could teach her about life. If she wanted a good time---and she did---he'd be the one who could give it to her. He was tall, a little over six feet, she guessed. With broad shoulders, long, narrow waist and slim hips. Lean and mean. His old jeans fit nicely over his long legs and his white T-shirt molded to his wide chest and big arms.
"What are you staring at?" Dana asked.
"Him."
"Him?" Dana's gaze followed Jenna's line of vision. She drew in a deep breath, then blew it out dramatically. "My goodness, Jen, you've got to be out of your mind. That guy is probably lethal. Just look at him."
"I am looking at him. And he's looking back at me."
Across the crowded roadhouse, Jenna's gaze met and locked with Mr. Wrong. Mr. Absolutely-perfectly-wrong-for-a-nice-girl-like-me. She might not have much experience in matters like this, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the man found her as fascinating as she did him.
"Go get a beer or something," Jenna told her friend. "I'll see you later."
"Where are you going?" Dana's voice squeaked when she spoke. "And what are you going to do?"
"I'm going over there---" Jenna nodded the direction "---to play a game...of pool."
"Don't do it," Dana said.
Totally disregarding her roommate's advice, Jenna sashayed away, her focus on the ruggedly gorgeous hunk across the room. As she drew nearer, she noticed how black his hair was and that he not only needed a haircut, but he also needed a shave. A five-o'clock shadow darkened the lower half of his face. A sensible tingle of fear radiated up her spine, but she refused to allow the warning to sway her from her objective. When only a few feet separated them, the intensity of his blue eyes---strikingly blue against the tan on his incredibly handsome face---captivated her.
With a boldness she'd never known, Jenna walked right up to him and said, "Hi, there."
An amused smile spread his lips slightly apart, as if he found her amusing. "Hi, yourself."
Butterflies did a wicked dance in her belly. Say something, you idiot. Don't just stand there. "How about a game?" she asked.
"You play pool, blondie?" His voice was honey-coated raw and deep, with just a hint of a Texas drawl.
Her father had played billiards with her, teaching her his favorite game, just as he'd taught her to horseback ride and shoot a rifle. If she'd had a brother, her father probably wouldn't have bothered teaching her, which made her glad she'd been an only child.
"Would you like to find out just how well I play?" she asked teasingly.
"What do you have in mind?"
He ran his heated gaze over her, from head to toe, lingering at her breasts and then at the apex between her thighs. His perusal was downright suggestive, but instead of feeling insulted or threatened, Jenna felt hot and bothered. What was the word her more experienced friends used? Horny? That was it---she felt horny.
Easing closer, her body almost touching his, she looked up at him. "Just how confident are you that you can beat me?" she asked.
His grin widened, giving her a glimpse of his straight, white teeth. "Do you want to make a bet?"
She ran the tip of her tongue over the inside of her lips, making a complete circle. Her bad boy swallowed hard as his gaze fixed pointedly on her mouth.
"You set the stakes," she told him.
"If I win, you give me a kiss." He continued staring at her mouth.
"And if I win?"
"Name your prize, honey. I'll let you have anything you want."
"Anything?" She couldn't resist the urge to give him the same kind of once-over he'd given her, but when her gaze hesitated at his crotch, she gasped. The guy was already partially aroused. The fit of his clinging jeans left no doubt about it.
Before she knew what was happening, he slid his arm around her waist, pulled her up against him so that their bodies aligned perfectly. With his semihard sex pressed against her, he lowered his head and whispered in her ear. "Eight Ball okay with you?"
"What?" His nearness robbed her of breath, and for just a second it robbed her of her mind, also. "Oh, yes, the game. Sure, Eight Ball is fine with me."
He released her as quickly as he'd grabbed her, leaving her weak-kneed and light-headed. Dana had been right---this guy was lethal. What had she gotten herself into with this sexy cowboy? She had to win their game; otherwise, he would claim his kiss. And something told her that by claiming the kiss he'd take more than she intended to give.
Watching him move like a sleek, dark panther as he racked the balls, Jenna found herself totally mesmerized. She'd never been so instantly attracted to a man, so completely overwhelmed by her own desires. But he seemed totally oblivious to the spell he'd cast over her. He removed a cue from the rack, chalked it and glanced at her.
"What's the matter, honey, change your mind?" His cocky, self-confident smile taunted her.
"No, I---I'm still playing."
Trying to concentrate on the game instead of the man, she chose her cue, chalked it and faced her opponent.
"No point in lagging," he told her. "As far as I'm concerned, ladies go first."
Putting on a show of bravado, Jenna sauntered around the table, psyching herself up for the break, that all-important first shot. Maybe she could distract him just enough to impair his game. Saying a little help-me-dear-Lord prayer, she leaned down, putting her cue into position, then made a perfect shot, sending the three ball into a corner pocket. With a sigh of relief, she glanced at her bad boy, who seemed totally unaffected by her success. His sky-blue eyes possessed a devilish twinkle, as if he had a secret she needed to know, but didn't.
If he thought that first shot was pure luck and nothing more, then she'd have to prove him wrong. Studying the angles, she deliberately brushed against him as she eased past. She'd have to pocket another one of the solids, which left her everything from one to seven, except the three ball.
"Six ball in the side pocket," she said, then with expert precision, she aimed, shot and could barely contain her exuberance when the six ball landed in a side pocket.
"You're good, honey," he said. "Looks like you've got a chance of getting whatever you want from me."
"Maybe I don't want what you think I want," she told him, realizing she'd better cool his ardor before it got completely out of hand. She wanted to flirt, to have a little fun, but this guy was ready to hop in the sack.
"So, sweet thing, tell me, do you live here in Mission Creek?" he asked.
"My name is Jenna. And I was born and raised here. What about you? I haven't seen you around before." Of course she hadn't seen him around. If he was a ranch hand who frequented the Saddlebag Bar, there wouldn't have been a chance for their paths to have crossed in the past.
"I'm new. Came in from Laredo and started working on a ranch here in Mission Creek recently."
Just as she'd thought---a cowpoke. Her mother would faint dead away if she had any idea her darling daughter was in the middle of a pool game with a ranch hand at the Saddlebag Bar.
Jenna called her next shot, then when she hit the four ball into the corner pocket, she couldn't help squealing just a little. She was winning this game, hands-down. So, if you win, what prize will you claim? she asked herself.
She felt him staring at her, studying her. Was he trying to figure out her strategy or was he simply enjoying the scenery?
"Aren't you interested in knowing my name or do you pick up nameless guys in bars all the time?" he asked.
"I don't...I haven't..." When she saw him looking directly at her breasts, she almost yanked the edge of her tank top higher, but she forced herself not to react. "Yes, certainly I'd like to know your name."
"It's Brent."
"So, Brent, has a woman ever beat you at pool?"
"Nope. Tonight could be a first," he replied. "But I must admit that win or lose, I think I'll come out on top."
She couldn't miss the subtle innuendo; and damn it, his words fanned the sparks in her belly. The picture of the two of them lying on satin sheets as black as his hair flashed through her mind. Brent on top. Big, hard and commanding. An involuntary shiver passed along her nerve endings.
"You're awfully sure of yourself, cowboy."
"Not really," he said. "Just wishful thinking on my part. After all, how would I know what you might ask for if you win."
"Use your imagination." She knew she was playing with fire, but the risk of getting burned seemed unimportant at the moment.
"That's just what I'm doing." His eyes narrowed as he looked directly at her. "Imagining what it would be like."
She took a deep breath before she continued. At that precise moment she wasn't a hundred percent sure whether she wanted to win or lose. Concentrate, Jenna, she told herself. Concentrate.
With one shot after another, she successfully put all the solids into pockets. One final shot and she would win the game without Brent even getting a turn. All she had to do to win was put the eight ball into...she studied her shot.
"Eight ball into the side pocket."
Although she trembled inside, outwardly her hands were steady. Brent watched closely as she chalked her cue and aimed. If she won, she could ask him for anything. A dance. A kiss. A stroll in the moonlight. A wild ride on black satin sheets.
The eight ball rolled steadily toward the side pocket. Jenna held her breath. Then as if an invisible breeze blew the ball off course, it veered slightly to the left, missing the pocket by half an inch.
"Damn," she cursed under her breath.
"Bad luck, honey." He took her cue from her and placed his and hers back in the wall rack, then draped his arm around her shoulders. "How about I buy you a beer before I claim my kiss?"
"Okay." She hated the taste of beer, but she was hardly going to admit that fact to her bad boy.
Brent found them a table, then ordered their drinks. She was halfway surprised when the waitress didn't ask to see her ID. Maybe they weren't very strict about things like that at the Saddlebag Bar.
"So, Jenna, what do you do?" he asked.
"What do I---oh, you mean what do I do for a living?"
"Yeah. You know that I'm a ranch hand."
"I...er...I'm between jobs right now."
"Hmm."
Jenna glanced around, searching for Dana and Katie. She caught a glimpse of Katie with her long, lean cowpoke, but she didn't see Dana anywhere.
"Looking for someone?" Brent asked.
"A couple of girlfriends who came with me."
"Getting tired of my company already?"
"No, of course not, I---"
The waitress returned with their drinks. "Here you go." She set one bottle in front of Jenna and handed the other one to Brent, obviously flirting with him. Brazen hussy, Jenna thought.
Brent drank half the beer in one thirsty swig. Jenna sipped on the atrocious stuff, forcing herself to swallow it when she would prefer to spit it out.
"You should have told me that you don't like beer."
"I like it all right, it's just that---"
Reaching out, he pressed two fingers over her lips to silence her. The touch of his calloused flesh on her mouth ignited fireworks inside her. How was it possible that this man could do such dangerously marvelous things to her senses with nothing more than a look or a touch?
"Want to dance?" He shoved back his chair and held out his hand.
She took his hand. He led her onto the dance floor. She had never dreamed that walking on the wild side could be so sensually stimulating. Surely he'd ask for his prize now, she thought. What better place to kiss her than while he had her in his arms? They moved with the rhythm of the music, their bodies intimately entwined. She felt hot and cold all at the same time. And the pressure of his hard sex against her belly unnerved her. She'd never wanted anything more in her life than to pay him the debt she owed. Perspiration broke out on her upper lip. Moisture coated her palms. And a trickle of sweat made its way downward between her breasts.
She stared at him, silently pleading with him to kiss her. Now. Oh, Brent, now!
When he rubbed his cheek against hers, rough against soft, she thought she'd scream. Was he teasing her? Tempting her?
"Don't you want to collect your winnings?" she asked, and even to her own ears, her voice sounded breathy.
"More than anything. But not in here. When I kiss you, I want a little more privacy."
"Oh." Oh, my God!
"My truck's outside," he whispered against her neck. "How about---"
"Let's go," she said, without giving the consequences a thought.
The parking lot wasn't that well lit and Brent's truck was parked in a dark corner, but she went with him, no questions asked, more than ready to pay her debt. If he tried to seduce her, she wasn't sure she'd be able to resist. And she wasn't even sure she'd want to.
Brent backed her up against the side of the truck, splayed his hands out on either side of her shoulders and stared right into her eyes. "You know I want more than a kiss, don't you?"
Yes, on some instinctive level, she knew. She might be inexperienced, but she wasn't stupid. Brent was older than she by a few years and probably ages older in experience, so who better to initiate her than someone like him. No, not someone like him---only him. She nodded her head, unable to speak. Brent caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. She gasped as tingling sensations zinged through her body.
"Honey, these lips of yours have been driving me crazy. You can't know how much I want to taste them."
When he lowered his head, Jenna flung her arms around his neck and urged him into action. She had expected a rough, tongue-thrusting possession. Instead he gave her gentleness. His mouth took hers firmly yet tenderly, playing with her lips, using his tongue to outline them and taste her essence. She shivered. He groaned deep in his throat. The kiss became the center of the universe for Jenna. Nothing existed except Brent and her and this moment in time. With each passing minute, he deepened the kiss, claiming her more and more, teaching her how unbelievably erotic a kiss could be.
Breathless and aroused, she gasped for air when he eased his mouth from hers and kissed a soft, moist path down her throat and over the tops of her breasts. His big hands cupped her buttocks and lifted her up and against him in a way that told her plainly what he wanted.
"Let's go somewhere even more private." He delved his tongue inside her tank top, between her aching breasts.
"Jenna! Jenna!" Two voices called her name.
She heard her name, but the speakers' identities didn't register immediately. After all, she was cocooned in a sexual fog that blocked out the rest of the world.
"Jenna, thank goodness," Dana said. "There you are."
Dana? What was Dana doing interrupting her like this? Jenna wondered.
"We're ready to go home," Katie said. "We thought we'd never find you."
As Jenna turned to focus on her two roommates who came running toward her, Brent kept his arm firmly around Jenna's shoulders. She didn't want to go home. Not now. Not until later. Much later. She wanted to go with Brent, to stay with him and learn from him.
"You two go on without me," Jenna told them.
Dana reached out, grasped Jenna's hands and pulled her away from Brent. "We can't go without you. We came with you. In your car."
"Didn't I give one of you the keys to my car?"
"No," Katie replied. "You've got the keys. Besides, you can't stay out late tonight. Remember, we've got finals to study for and you have to meet your mother tomorrow to be fitted for your dress for the debutante ball."
"Finals? Debutante ball?" Brent stared quizzically at Jenna. "Honey, just how old are you?"
"Old enough," she said.
"She's twenty-one," Dana told him. "Just barely."
"You're a college kid," Brent said as the realization hit him. "You sure had me fooled."
"We go to Tensley," Katie said. "A women's college."
"We've never done something like this before," Dana explained. "This is the first time any of us has been at a roadhouse."
"I'll be graduating in a few weeks." Jenna glowered at her friends. "Besides, what difference does it make? I am twenty-one. And that makes me a legal adult."
"Honey, you were passing yourself off as something you aren't." Brent inspected her, this time not pausing at any particular area. "You're certainly a good little actress. And you definitely dressed for the part."
He turned away and headed for his truck. Jenna grimaced. She couldn't let him leave her this way, not without trying to explain.
"Brent?"
He paused, glanced over his shoulder and waited for her to speak.
"I really do want to go with you. We could still---"
"I don't give spoiled little debutantes cheap thrills. If you want to go slumming, find yourself another cowboy."
Brent unlocked his truck, got inside and started the engine. Jenna stood in the parking lot and watched him back up and drive off. With anger and humiliation boiling inside her, she turned to her roommates.
"How could y'all do that to me? You ruined everything. I've lost him, and it's all your fault!"


