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LENGTH: Long Category
SENSUALITY: Spicy

Cover art (c) Kat Richards
ISBN 1-58608-532-8
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Smart, ambitious Miranda Dale doesn’t want anyone to know that she’s bankrolled her expensive education by working summers as an exotic dancer—in northern Canada. Now she’s about to leave her hometown of Albany to take the job of her dreams at a prestigious Chicago accounting firm. But when Miranda goes out celebrating and locks eyes with sexy stranger Jack Steele at a bar, she completely loses her head—and all her inhibitions—with disastrous results. That spontaneous public striptease has been all too revealing!

Jack can’t stop thinking about the sexy young woman who singled him out at a bar on his most recent business trip—and draped her brassiere around his neck! And now he has to face down the false allegations of sexual harassment made against him by one Celeste Sharpe—his former junior accountant. Jack, a partner at a prestigious Chicago accounting firm, is living under a microscope. The last thing he needs is the temptress of his recent fantasies to show up at his firm—as his new junior accountant....

Rating: Contains explicit sex scenes and adult themes.

"Four ½ Stars! Lasting Impression is a fabulous modern romance which will keep you engrossed till the very end. Charlotte Vye is a hugely talented author who has written a sexy romantic comedy in a smart and sassy style which draws the reader in from the very first page. She makes you care for her characters and you will root for the two of them to get together. Miranda is a smart and sexy woman the reader will love and root for whereas Jack is fabulously sexy! … Charlotte Vye has written a gripping tale that is heading straight for my keeper shelf! I can’t wait to read more books by this fabulous author!" Julie Bonello, eCataRomance Reviews

"Five Angels! Lasting Impression certainly made a great impression on this reader. Funny and endearing, the characters of Jack and Miranda are obviously perfect for each other, but it was intriguing to see how Charlotte Vye created all the twists and turns that they had to go through in order to find happiness with each other. …. Charlotte Vye has another winner on her hands with Lasting Impression. Be sure to pick up your copy as soon as you can, the love story between Jack and Miranda is a treat to read." Sarah, Fallen Angel Reviews

"LASTING IMPRESSION is a humorous tale of repressed lust and raging desire. … Full of sexual frustration, repressed feelings, and sexual heat, this one will make a LASTING IMPRESSION on you. Ms. Vye pens a story that will have you screaming for them to just get together already." Ansley Velarde for The Road to Romance

"Miscommunication, misunderstandings, sexual tension that’s through the roof and fantastic characters makes LASTING IMPRESSION a great read. Charlotte Vye does a superb job on this book. …. LASTING IMPRESSION left a lasting impression on me, and it will you too, so don’t miss it." Jennifer Ray for The Road to Romance

"LASTING IMPRESSION is chock full of sexual tension. Ms. Vye has written an enjoyable read." Joy for RomanceJunkies.com

LASTING IMPRESSION

By

Charlotte Vye

© copyright July 2004, Charlotte Vye
Cover art by Kat Richards, © copyright July 2004
New Concepts Publishing
5202 Humphreys Rd.
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com

Chapter 1

Miranda was in a tumult, physically and emotionally. She’d had too much to drink. One glass of wine with dinner was her usual, but now, after a celebration dinner and several unaccustomed cocktails out bar-hopping, she felt light-headed, almost giddy. But instead of her senses being dulled by the alcohol, she felt more alive than she’d felt in ages. She felt like anything could happen, like she wanted something to happen.

And she thought it was because of that man over there.

She felt engorged, ready to burst out of her skin. One look at him, and she’d gone hot all over and found herself staring.

He was too sexy to be true. Tall, dark and handsome, with the kind of rugged physique a girl could really lean into. There was something about the way he held himself that had immediately attracted her. A real hunk, for sure.

She imagined herself melting into those protective arms in the throes of an erotic kiss. Then, as if he sensed her, he suddenly turned and looked in her direction, his eyes fastening on hers. She flushed--whether from experiencing genuine chemistry for the first time in her life, or from embarrassment at having been caught ogling, she wasn’t sure. But she didn’t look away. Under his appraising stare, she felt the sudden, flooding warmth of sexual arousal.

He smiled. Miranda barely managed to smile back. She held her breath, willing him to read her mind, her body. Come here.

But his eyes slid away, as if to say, Sorry, I’m not available. And Miranda looked into the bottom of her empty glass.

She didn’t know what had gotten into her. She wanted to walk over there and rub her breasts up against his back like a desperately needy cat. That would be pretty out of character, she told herself, with her reputation as a studious goody two-shoes. No one who knew her would ever guess that she’d bankrolled her expensive education by working summers as an exotic dancer. And no one ever would. To distract herself from her thoughts, Miranda decided to fight her way to the bar. Maybe she’d get another one of those yummy chocolate monkeys.

The music was, if anything, louder than before, and the bar thronged with people. The small space that served as a dance floor was packed. Miranda noticed that two young women had climbed up on some tables near the dance floor and were dancing like go-go dancers. Not very good go-go dancers, Miranda thought critically as she watched them, stalled on her way to the bar in the press of people.

Neither one of them had a feel for the music at all. And they didn’t know how to move their bodies, either. They were like marionettes, moving awkwardly, as though some inexperienced puppeteer were pulling their strings. These women didn’t seem to even realize that they were women at all, with shoulders and breasts and hips. One lumbered like a dancing gorilla.

No, no, no, thought Miranda, shaking her head as the lumbering gorilla waved her arms gracelessly about. It hurt her to watch it, it really did. Miranda had always taken her dancing seriously, almost as an art form. After all, exotic dancing was an entertainment, but it was also a form of self-expression. These two didn’t have a clue.

Impulsively, Miranda changed direction and moved toward the area where the dancing was taking place. She noticed a table which had just been cleared. This’ll be fun, thought Miranda, as she easily hoisted her slim figure up on to the table.

She gave herself up to the music and started to dance, easy, graceful, and--she couldn’t help it--sensual. Even without a costume, she felt sexy, hot. She was pulsing with erotic energy. Ever since she’d laid her eyes on that gorgeous guy.

The table lifted her above the rest of the patrons of the bar. She began to scan the crowd, looking for him. Already, some faces had turned her way, watching her. Miranda felt a flush of excitement. Maybe she didn’t dance just for the money.

There he was, and he was looking at her. Miranda saw him, standing stock still, his jacket slung over his shoulder as if he were leaving.

But he wasn’t going anywhere. She could see that.

She held his gaze. This time he didn’t turn away. She felt her nipples tighten, aware that they were showing now through her thin silk blouse.

She danced to the music, using her eyes, her body, and her talent to draw him in. And he responded to her in the same way that men always responded to her when she danced. He was transfixed, raking her hungrily with his eyes.

There was a crowd assembling around her now. She kept her eyes on him. She raised her arms gracefully overhead while softly grinding her hips in a slow, sensuous rhythm, a rhythm that she knew growled sex to every man in the room. Then she turned and gave him a slow, deliberate view of her behind, still moving in time to the music, in that same suggestive rhythm. She arched her back and let her long hair fall down between her shoulder blades. She could feel the energy in the room changing. She was vaguely aware that the two girls had climbed down off their tables.

When she twirled back around she locked eyes with her gorgeous guy, and grasping the open neck of her blouse in both hands, gave a little tug and popped open the top button. She could hear the raw excitement around the table, hear rasping, choked voices urging her to take it off, but she smiled and shook her head. She focused on her man and coaxed him closer to her with a beckoning finger. He approached, as if drawn forward by some magnet, and she popped open another button, revealing an eyeful of cleavage and a teasing glimpse of her lacy, push-up bra. He moved closer, and she gave him a hot, encouraging smile.

There was no turning back. Miranda was so deep in the sensuality of the moment, so full of repressed sexual desire, so turned on by her intimate dance with this sexy man--and encouraged by the clapping and cheering of the other men around her urging her on--that instinct simply took over. Slowly, suggestively, she pulled the thin green silk from inside her low-slung jeans.

The men in the room went wild, calling for more. She looked down at her man. Their eyes locked in a private, intimate moment of their own. His face was imprinted with desire. He was close to her now, right at the edge of the table. She could almost reach down and touch him. She tugged at the bottom of her blouse and snapped open some more buttons, revealing her lower tummy and her belly button. Then she turned her back and looking coyly over her shoulder, released another button and allowed her loosened blouse to slide off one bare shoulder.

She had every man in the room eating out of her hand. Still moving her hips seductively, still looking over her shoulder, she slowly inched her blouse up with both hands, as if she were going to lift it off over her head, revealing a flash of bare back and the clasp of her skimpy brassiere. Then,

with one hand expertly poised on the clasp of her brassiere, she paused for effect.

She heard loud, husky voices urging her on, and she released the clasp. Allowing the silk to drop back down her back, she only pretended to undo the remaining buttons in front. Then she whirled around again to face the excited crowd--and her dark, sexy stranger. Pretending to hold her blouse together with one hand, she smiled enticingly at him, and slowly, provocatively, pulled her brassiere out of her sleeve.

She flourished the flimsy pink undergarment at the crowd, pulling on its ends playfully as if it were a slingshot. Then, enjoying his reaction, she squatted down low in front of him, and leaning forward, reached over with both arms to place the brassiere around his neck. She almost grazed his face with her breasts, encased only in the thin silk.

She wanted him to reach out and touch her. And then she realized that never before, in her short career as a dancer, had she ever wanted such a thing.

With one last, meaningful glance, she rose and continued dancing, her breasts braless and provocative. One last tease. She stroked the fly of her jeans, pretending she was about to unzip. The audience shouted encouragement--but she was only teasing. She laughed, having thoroughly enjoyed herself, and stopped dancing, shaking her head at the audience.

She saw the object of her desire gallantly holding up the brassiere that he’d retrieved from around his neck. But Miranda suddenly, as if coming down from a cloud, realized where she was and what she’d done. This wasn’t work, this was a public bar! And she wasn’t in the wilds of northern Canada either!

The realization stunned her. All she wanted to do was throw a blanket over herself and get the hell out of there. She smiled a frozen, embarrassed smile at him, clutching her barely-buttoned blouse to her chest. As he held her bra up to her, smiling, handsome as hell, she blurted, "Keep it."

She whirled away from him and as she slipped off the table she saw the shocked, astonished faces of her friends Jenna and Sandy looking at her.

The full import of what she’d done hit her like a Japanese tidal wave.