She's one of the few… Jazz has been one of the guys for over a decade, serving her country with distinction, but she longs to explore her femininity, to be desired as a woman, to flirt, cavort and fulfill every sexual desire. When her mother of all people, signs her up for a 1Night Stand, she's not sure whether to be exhilarated or pissed. Flying to Las Vegas on the promise of a total escape, Jazz plans to be Jasmine for just one night, because tomorrow, she plans to re-up for another five years. They're two of the proud… Logan Cavanaugh grew up across the street from his best friend and brother-in-arms, Zach Evans. Inseparable, the two have shared everything, including women, until the year before when an IED attack during combat injured both of them. Zach suffered a concussion, but Logan's injuries were far more extensive. After a year of physical therapy, he can walk, but he'll never run or love a woman again, or so he fears. He’s ready to accept his impotence, but Zach has other ideas. He hopes a 1Night Stand date with the perfect woman will heal Logan's confidence and masculinity. They're all Marines… They’ll share each other, but will one night be enough?
Knocking on the door took more willpower than walking down the long, carpeted hallway from the elevators in the black Christian Louboutins with their fuck me red bottoms. The four-inch heels added a sharp definition to her already muscled legs. She’d been damn grateful for that uncomfortable wax job after she’d slipped on the satin and silk number that hugged every curve with just the slightest flare over her hips before it dropped down her thighs. The skirt’s slit left very little of her right leg to the imagination.
The heels forced a hip-rolling saunter and despite a brief moment of discomfort, every step increased the aura of the illusion she’d sought to create. She felt almost desirable by the time she knocked on the door to 2106. One deep breath and a roll of her head later, she smiled when the door opened to a heart-stopping blond man in a white dress shirt and black pants.
The four top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, revealing a well-muscled chest decorated by sprigs of white-blond hair. His sun-kissed face broadened into a hesitant smile, but no words came out.
“Mr. Evans?” She had little to go on beyond a brief physical description of each man and their names. The blond was Evans. The brunet would be Cavanaugh. But she hadn’t caught sight of him yet.
“Zach, ma’am.” He found his voice and pulled the door the rest of the way open. “Would you like to come in?”
Ordering the butterflies in her stomach to don battle gear, Jazz slid past him, almost wishing he hadn’t stepped so far back. She wondered if he was as solid as he appeared. But whatever hesitation she experienced imploded when the second man in the room rose to his feet. A scar turned the left side of his mouth downward, but the right side tipped up. If she didn’t know better she would have read surprise in his expression.
“Mr. Cavanaugh.” She extended her hand, wanting to see if he would meet her halfway. Thankfully, he did. The weight of his hand closed on hers and a thrill skated up her arm to spread a wildfire through her insides. The mottled skin puckering his jaw and stretching down the side of his neck suggested an ugly burn, but did nothing to detract from his tanned, handsome face. If anything, it added gravitas to what might otherwise have been a sculpture of perfection.