Arryn twirled around in front of the mirror and studied her butt in the black pencil skirt. Pleased with the way it hugged her hips, she went back to the closet to choose a top. A pang of regret tightened her chest. This night was about seduction, and she wasn't sure she had any clothing sexy enough.

The pale pink silk was cute, but the bottom button was missing. Why did she obsess over such a small detail? If things went according to plan, Devon wouldn't be paying attention to buttons, except to undo them and get her naked.

She stuck it back in the closet and held up the lemonade Juliette midi dress with a sweetheart neckline to show off the twins, and the side slit to accentuate her legs. She had worn it once for a party with Gianna, so she mind as well get her money's worth after forking over two-hundred dollars for the outfit at Reformation.

The ensemble wasn't the typical honky-tonk flair, but that would make her stand out in the crowd, or she should say competition. There'd be plenty of women there wanting to hook up just as she was. Well, the rest of them probably didn't want to get pregnant. According to Darcy, since Devon's divorce, he'd never brought a woman to a company function, so she didn't have a clue what kind of woman he preferred.

Younger and thinner. The words pounded in her head. She spun around again to check out the finished product. She didn't have a skinny bone in her body. Everything was full and rounded. How depressing. She'd never picked up a man in a bar or had a one-night stand. If he rejected her, what would be her next move? Go back to the dating game?

She'd practiced make-believe conversation all week, and read about him in the company newsletters. Fantasized about him at night. How it would feel to stand next to him. To be in his arms. Kiss him. Closing her eyes, she prayed for strength to finish her scheme.

Rhys rinsed the toothpaste from his mouth and wondered why he'd agreed to the night out. A public bar hadn't been his choice of entertainment in a while and certainly not a redneck saloon. Women were there. Lonely. Desperate. Although those types could be a good thing for his hormones, he'd made his no-pickup rule long ago and stuck to it. Most were interested in finding another daddy for their children. If there was one thing he didn't want, it was raising another man's kids, and dealing with a jerk of an ex-husband. No woman was worth that. Not to him. He wouldn't let a one-night fling ruin his future. Surviving a tour in Iraq and one woman's crazy was his limit.

Earlier today, Bennett's Department Store finally accepted his ad campaign, so tonight he'd celebrate. A multi-million dollar deal for his company and a sizable bonus for him. He planned to let loose. And because of that, he'd drive to his condo in town, and take an Uber to the bar. That way, if he drank too much, he didn't have to find another way home and leave his truck in a vacant parking lot.

On Saturday, he'd sleep late and work in a trip to the grocery store before heading to the cabin. A juicy steak and a quiet evening sounded good. The extra hours put in concerning the last client hadn't allowed him much free time, but it'd paid off.

With one last look in the mirror, he ran his hand through his hair, picked up his wallet and keys, then strode out of the house full of anticipation.

The closer Arryn got to the hotel, the more she second-guessed the plan. What was wrong with her? There was no guarantee that Devon would show up the way her luck had been going concerning the opposite sex. If he did, no assurance he'd be interested.

For the second time, she pulled to the shoulder and considered her choice. Even after planning, could it work? A reserved hotel room waited, and she'd chosen a fake name. Also, she researched a medical supply company in Orlando, where she could claim employment. It was far enough away from Atlanta, seeing him again would be impractical. She laughed out loud. What a joke. Even if she got him into bed, he'd never want to see her again.

She took her hands from the steering wheel, but they were shaking so much, she gripped it again to stop the tremors. No. She'd come too far to turn back now. She'd bought new panties.

With a wave of new resolve, she pulled back into traffic. Thirty minutes later, she stood at the window of her second-floor room and stared across the street at the bar. Cowboy's flashed in red neon.

Her stomach somersaulted. Elia Green, Elia Green, Elia Green. She'd repeated the fake name so much over the last week, she'd gotten comfortable with it. Everything was in place. Alias. Fabricated job and hometown. Faulty condoms.

Turning from the window, she opened her luggage. After putting the toiletries in the bathroom, she placed the condoms in the suitcase's side pocket. She felt sure he'd buy her latex allergy story and use her protection instead of his. She'd poked plenty of holes in three of the twelve, and made sure they were first in the box. If she convinced him to stay over and seduced him once tonight, and again before he left tomorrow, her odds went up.

She glanced at her watch. Seven. Too nervous to wait in her room, she checked her makeup one more time, then headed to the elevator.

A few minutes later, she stood inside the club. Most of the tables were full, so she went straight to the bar and ordered a virgin banana daiquiri. Even though alcohol offered fortitude, it was better to keep her wits. Making friends with the bartender, she gave him instructions, then slipped him a couple of twenties. I must be in Elia Green mode because Arryn Rivera would do none of this.

A group of girls let out shrill yelps, and she turned to look at them. In tank tops and jeans, they appeared to be in their early twenties. Probably sorority sisters celebrating someone reaching the legal drinking age.

Nope, this mission wasn't normal for Arryn. This was an out-of-body experience. Sensible Arryn didn't go to bars to pick up men. Elia Green was a wild woman.

Eyes fixed on Arryn, one coed approached. When she reached the counter, she propped a hip on the next stool and rested her elbow on the bar. "Hey, Rick, we need another round of shots," she ordered, then spoke to Arryn. "Are you here all by yourself or meeting someone?"

Surprised by the question, she stuttered. "Oh...I..."

The blue-eyed blonde laughed. "We noticed you standing here and thought we'd invite you to join our party. The more, the merrier."

She started to refuse, but her alter ego stepped up to the plate. "Are you sure? I don't want to intrude."

"No intrusion." She stuck out her hand. "I'm Natalie."

Arryn clasped it. "Elia. In that case, sure. What are y'all celebrating? Birthday? Bachelorette party?"

"Bridget's divorce. It was final today." She pointed to a dark-haired girl in the center of the pack.

Arryn squinted to bring the girl into focus. She looked too young to be married, much less divorced. "Wow, she must have married when she was a teenager."

"Nah. Twenty-five."

"But she barely looks twenty-five."

Rick slid the brown platter of drinks across the bar. Natalie grabbed the tray and balanced it on one hand. "Starter marriage. Seven months. C'mon, I'll introduce you."

Arryn followed to the table and met the crew. The honoree wasn't hard to identify. Across her white tank top were the words, I DO, I DID, I DON'T.

As much as Arryn appreciated the invitation, she was out of place among the group of close knit girls.

Elia slapped sense into her. She refused to let pragmatic Arryn bring her down. The house band started a roaring rendition of Here for the Party. Bridget pulled Arryn to her feet, and they danced and hollered until the song ended. Lord, Arryn hoped they didn't follow up with Redneck Woman, because her heart was pounding, and Elia wasn't any better off.

At a quarter till eight, Arryn's nerves took over again. Still, no sign of Devon and the show started in fifteen minutes. He'd probably decided not to come. Just as well. With all the women in the bar, she'd be the last person he'd notice. She wanted to leave, but Elia reasoned with her. The band wasn't one she was familiar with, but she'd read they were Atlanta natives.

Keeping an eye on the entrance, she started on her second virgin daiquiri. Her palms sweated. Lord, she hoped her armpits weren't doing the same. She felt hot all over and not in a good way.

By the time Rhys parked at his condo and took the ride to the club, it was almost eight. Just enough time for a drink before the show.

Once inside, he scanned the room for Brandon. Not an easy task with the lights so dim. Then he saw him at the end of the bar. A group of rowdy women occupied the table between the stage and where Brandon stood. Rhys gave them a cursory glance as he sidled up next to his friend. They were all loud and sporting tight jeans and low-cut tanks. Except for one. She looked out of place. Like she should be in a cocktail party instead of a local watering hole.

Rhys leaned into Brandon and asked, "You the only one here?"

"Here comes another one."

Devon eased up to the bar. "Hey, y'all been here long?"

"Just now."

The bartender came over. "What can I get you?"

"Blue Moon."

"Balcones, neat."

"Jethro coming?"

Rhys nodded. "Texted. Said he'll be late."

Bridget clasped Arryn's hand and pulled her from the chair to the dance floor. Arryn didn't go all out this time. She kept her movements subdued. No need to spend all her energy. She might need it later. She twirled around toward the door, and her heart stopped. Devon had arrived.

For the past few days, she practiced conversation. Now, every thought evaporated. Wearing a plaid sport shirt, jeans starched, and stacked above boots, he was more handsome than the company photo. Her mouth went dry, and then Elia reminded her. Of course, we're turned on, we're ovulating.

No need to waste time. She should make a move before the band started their set. Catching the bartender's eye, she nodded toward her victim. Rick knew what to do.

For just a bit of fortitude, she grabbed a shot from the table and knocked it back, hoping tequila and banana mixed well together. Holy shit. The inside of her nose went cold. At least it opened her sinuses. She turned her attention back to Rick as he delivered the drink. Gasping, her eyes widened. No! Not him...the guy in the plaid shirt. Holy shit! Her throat closed off. The barkeep gave the drink to the wrong man! The stranger acknowledged her by hoisting his glass as if toasting, then faced his friends again. Her heart sank. Now what? She couldn't go back and buy another drink. She'd look desperate, buying every guy at the bar a beer. This was a disaster. She had to get out of there.

She leaned closer to Bridget. "I'm not feeling well, so I'm leaving. Thanks for letting me join your party."

"Are you sure? If you drink some water and skip the next round..."

"No, I need to lie down. Thank the others for me. I had fun." Arryn didn't give her a chance to respond, she grabbed her purse and hurried toward the door. In five minutes, she'd be back in her room and could forget the mistake and her stupid idea.

The bartender set the drinks down. Rhys pulled out his wallet, but the barkeep shook his head. "It's already covered." Then he tilted his head toward the rowdy party. "Lady in the dress with the lemons on it paid."

Rhys turned to get a better view, and so did his friends. He lifted his glass, tipped his head, and an odd sensation crawled across his skin. Her eyes went wide for a few seconds, but then she glanced away. Weird. Bold enough to buy a stranger a drink, but unable to look at him.

"Damn, you're here five minutes, and a woman is buying you a drink? Kudos, man," Devon said. "You should go over there."

"Not my type."

Brandon's head flinched back. "Ready and willing is every guy's type. Go on. Let me, the guy with two kids and a pregnant wife live vicariously through you."

Jethro nudged his way through the crowd and joined them. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Help me out here," Brandon said. "That hot one." He jerked his head toward the table. "Bought him a drink, and he won't go talk to her."

Jethro leaned out for a better vantage point. "Kind of hard to see from here, but I can tell she's not a blonde, so not his type."

"You should encourage him," Brandon said.

He laughed. "Hey, I'm just saying, he prefers them bleached."

Rhys stiffened and frowned at his friend. "No, I don't."

"Not according to Ace."

"My sister's opinion doesn't count."

He held his hands up in mock surrender. "Fine. Discussion closed. Now, I need to tallboy up."

Rhys didn't drop the subject. "So you side with Brandon and Devon? You think I should go over there?"

"Too late, man. She's leaving," Brandon said.

As Arryn stepped into the warm night air, a voice called after her.

"Hey, wait!"

Her heart jumped into her throat, and she kept walking. She needed to get away, so she picked up speed, but he called again, this time closer. Louder. When she turned, he stopped a few feet away.

"You're not leaving, are you? I haven't properly thanked you for the drink."

Arryn couldn't speak, but Elia had plenty to say. She raised her voice an octave, animated her movements for effect, and spewed words at lightning speed. "That's okay. That was a mistake. Coming to the bar was a mistake. I'm as out of place in there as a priest in a whorehouse." Her hands flapped the air, and Arryn had no control. "But I saw the bar from my hotel window, and I thought crap, I'm only in town for the weekend, so why not do something crazy for once in my life. I mean, I never go to bars, so I don't know what possessed me." She tried to stop her head from bobbing and weaving, but her evil twin had taken command of Arryn's motor skills.

"I can tell you're a nice guy and you're not interested, so if I stayed in there, you'd feel guilty, and come over out of obligation, and ask me to dance or offer to buy me a drink, and then I'd feel guilty for putting you in that situation, so it's better I leave. You don't want to get mixed up with me, I'm a mess." Arryn attempted again to shut the Doppelganger down, but Elia wasn't having it.

"I don't exercise. I don't diet. I don't do yoga, which is proven to keep you limber well into your seventies and possibly prevent osteoporosis. My mother says I'm insane for letting Gianna get away. Clearly, I am nuts. I don't know you, and I'm buying you a drink? What was I thinking? You could be a serial killer, although I don't believe you are, but still, you see what I'm talking about?"

He laughed when she got to the yoga part. He should run away, and Arryn wished he would because now she was having a conversation with him and didn't know how to end it.

Then he reached out and took her hand, and the parking lot spun. Was he going to detain her until he called EMTs to bring a straightjacket? Probably.

He tugged her forward and smiled with sincere interest in his eyes. "Why don't you come back inside and buy me another drink?"

Lord Jesus, Elia.

Well, that didn't work out the way she intended, but it works out nicely, dont cha think?

TEASER: Not great odds. But not terrible. Oh, God.

Oh lord, what has Eliarryn gotten herself into now?