Right Moves Read Online Free

chances of snagging a rich husband.
    Taylor, Giselle and Cherish, however, did. They were three attractive, intelligent women caught in the mousetrap, wishing they were socialites like our readers, but not having been born or married into families that held the coveted key to the society door.
    I, on the other hand, had been born into the upper echelon and held my own key, though I very rarely used it. The Richie Rich types had never appealed to me. That, of course, made it ironic that I tripped over my own tongue when it came to Jack Reed. Then again… He didn’t really fit the Richie Rich image any more than I did. Well, he did have a house in Troon North, I’d just learned. That screamed status without saying a word. And yes, his athletic club was like the Taj Mahal of workout facilities. But the man himself was…down to earth. Vibrant. Passionate. Determined. Sweet.
    I grinned as I thought of how he’d invited me to his party. A cocky millionaire would not have been the least bit tentative. Nor would he have needed me to clarify whether I’d attend his soiree in a professional or a personal capacity. He’d have assumed I’d be there only for him. I’d grown up with enough of that kind to know this.
    Without having anyone to share my delight over my impending social engagement, I forced myself to continue working. A giddy smile refused to leave my lips, though, and I stopped typing every ten minutes or so to marvel over the fact that Jack Reed had asked me out…and to pat myself on the back for actually having the guts to accept his invitation.

Chapter Two
     
    Four days was not enough time to gain ten pounds. I realized most women would not empathize with me, but as I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my bathroom, I wished a five-thousand-calorie-a-day diet wouldn’t make me hurl, because I could use some help in the bust and butt areas. I wasn’t exactly flat in front or back. But both features were more pebbles in the road than speed bumps. Even at thirty, I was afraid I was too cutesy Taylor Swift when I wanted to be sexy Sofia Vergara.
    Surveying myself from every angle, I decided black pants and a satin blouse in pewter didn’t help my plight any more than a skirt would, so I stripped off the outfit and went straight for the navy-colored dress I’d worn to a fundraiser at the Botanical Gardens last year. The thin straps were made of dazzling crystals and the bodice was fitted, yet modestly cut. The hem of the skirt sat just above my knobby knees, concealing enough of my thighs to keep me from feeling too self-conscious. What made the dress so spectacular was the dip in the back. The material draped along my waist, exposing my shoulder blades and spine.
    I knew it wouldn’t be too excessive for Jack’s party, given the location and guest list, but I suffered a few moments of doubt as I pondered the message a dress like this sent out on such an occasion. As I contemplated this, I realized I wanted the dress to send a message. No… I needed it to send a message, because there was absolutely no way in hell I could do it myself. And the truth was, I wanted Jack to find me alluring. I wanted him to make a move on me.
    The honesty of those sentiments propelled me into a mini panic attack that I had to ride out before I could slip into my shoes, lest I fall right out of the three-inch heels. I rushed into the bathroom and sat at the vanity, wishing I had a paper bag to breathe into as I started to hyperventilate. Even applying my lip gloss was a challenge as my hand shook.
    I had very little experience with dating and even less experience with sex. The most action I’d gotten was when Michael Hadley, the boy my father had hoped I’d eventually marry, had rented Eyes Wide Shut and fingered my pussy during a particularly arousing scene and had then made love to me as the eroticism on screen had escalated. I’d been twenty-one and had responded in a very enthusiastic way. But then the usual doom