“I wanted to apologize for earlier today.”
I turned to my side, facing him. “For staring at my ass?”
“No, that I can’t apologize for. But for acting like an idiot about it, I can.”
I smiled despite myself. He was a charming son-of-a-bitch no doubt about that. “I accept your apology and the drink.” I took a sip from the little straw. “I was getting thirsty waiting for you to come over.”
“I didn’t think it took me that long.”
“Longer than I’m used to waiting.” I slid my tongue out as I sipped on the straw again.
He arched an elegant dark brow. “Do I know you?”
I nearly choked. “No, I think I would remember if we ever met.”
He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing every inch of my face. “Are you sure? You seem very familiar to me.”
I let my hair fall over my eye seductively. “And if you really knew me, you wouldn’t have to ask.”
“Jonathan Devane.” He offered his hand. I took it and shook firmly.
“Yvette Laurent.”
“A French woman. Magnifique! Do you speak fluently?”
I shook my head. Damn, I should’ve seen this coming. He was from down East; everyone spoke French there. “No, I have lost most of it. If you do not use it all the time, it begins to fade.”
“Say something to me.”
“Vous avez un bout stupefiant.” You have an amazing butt. That was one phrase I had memorized in French class because my teacher was definitely President of the Amazing Butt Club, or ABC as I and my friends liked to call it.
Jonathan grinned. “Et vous aussi.” And you, too.
I blushed and looked down at my drink.
“I like when you do that.”
I glanced up at him. He was studying me. I felt open and vulnerable to his scrutiny. This was not going as planned. “Do what?”
“Blush.”
I sat up straight and fanned myself with my hand. “Is it getting hot in here?”
“You could say that, Yvette.” He brushed his finger over my knuckles.
My head snapped up, and I met his gaze. His touch had sent electrifying shocks of pleasure searing up my arm. They traveled swiftly and efficiently, settling into my bra and twisting their treacherous arrows around my nipples. A moan nearly escaped my lips before I clamped down on my tongue and bit it sharply.
“Where are you from? Toronto perhaps.”
“Ah, Vancouver. You?”
“Toronto. Ireland originally. But it’s beginning to look quite nice here in the west.”
I just nodded. My voice seemed to be abandoned in my dry throat.
“I need to use the ladies’ room. Will you excuse me?” I said breathlessly, and not to be sexy, but because I couldn’t catch mine. It was stuck between my throbbing breast and my quivering bottom lip.
He nodded as I slid off the stool and sashayed toward the washroom. I felt his gaze on me the entire time. My butt cheeks wanted to clench to avoid his heated stare. I walked slowly careful not to buckle. My knees were so weak and wobbly I felt like I had more than one drink.
I made it safely to the bathroom. Thankfully, it was empty as I splashed cold water on my cheeks. Damn, the man was intoxicating. I hadn’t expected such a reaction to him. I knew it would be difficult to resist him and his seductive charms, but this was damn near impossible. No man had ever affected me the way Jonathan Devane did.
I found myself not wanting to extract his secrets from him, but to jump in his arms and confess of all mine. It was ridiculous. I shook my head. I had to get it together. After smoothing a hand over my pants, I adjusted my sweater. I slipped off the little cardigan and squeezed my breasts together. The front of the sweater was pushed down enough to reveal the tops of my heaving bosom.
I swore under my breath as I stared at the sweep my pale boobs. Damn it, I had a heaving bosom. Why in all that was good and holy was I thinking like a bad (or good?) bodice ripper? I didn’t want to be swept away by this man, did I? For him to take my in his arms and rip away the constricting fabric of my sweater to reveal my…my…heaving bosom.
“Ah!” I squeezed my eyes shut.
There was a soft tap on my shoulder.
I swung around and opened my eyes. An elderly woman with steel gray hair gaped at me with concern, her little purse clutched to her flat chest.
“Are you all right, dear?”
I smiled. “Men.”
The elderly lady just nodded. “I hear you loud and clear. Scream all you want.” She shuffled into one of the toilet stalls.
Turning off the water, I reapplied my lipstick and pushed up my boobs. I would go back in there and seduce the son-of-a-bitch. To hell with ethics, I needed to get him out of my system. And the only way I could possibly see to do this, was to have mind-blowing sex with him. I nodded to myself in the mirror. Time to end the dry spell. It was definitely the only way.
Wasn’t it?
I smoothed down my hair and walked back to the bar. I put a sexy smile on my face. It drooped when I noticed that Jonathan was not where I left him. I climbed onto my stool and glanced around back to his table. Two other people sat at it, drinking and eating something.
I frowned and glanced down at my drink. I noticed the napkin under it with a note written on it. Sorry, business calls. Tomorrow night? Same place? Jonathan.
I crumpled up the napkin into a ball and shoved it into Jonathan’s bottle of beer sitting on the counter. I picked up my drink and gulped down the rest of it. Damn him. I could feel tears sting my eyes. I was slighted again. Business calls. The asshole.
I ordered another drink and swore on the cute little umbrella that came with it that I would not succumb to him again. From now on, I meant business just like he did. The man was no longer a man, but a story. I would not feel anything remotely like morals or sympathy again. This was war. And I was Sun Tzu.
Chapter Six
I hid behind the azalea bush in the front lobby as David stepped off the elevator. According to Jonathan’s itinerary, he didn’t have any meetings or engagements until tonight. So naturally I wondered what David was up to.
I’d gotten up early, dressed in covert gear (denim Capri pants, my Girls Kick Ass t-shirt, and sandals…I needed to be comfortable if I was going to be spying, didn’t I?) and arrived down in the lobby to wait for an opportunity to do some covert operation. Now here was my chance to follow David around and find out what he was up to. Maybe he was doing some corporate takeover stuff for Jonathan. I wouldn’t put it past him.
He was talking with the concierge. I wished I could hear what they were saying. It looked important. Leaning forward, I tipped over into the bush. I quickly reached out and grabbed the branches, but it was too late. I toppled to the ground with the azalea bush spread indecently on top of me.
Everyone in the lobby turned toward the ruckus. The security guard rushed to my aid and helped my up from the ground. I glanced around the lobby. Eyes were glued to me. My gaze rested on David.
He was wide-eyed and smirking ear to ear. He shook his head and put his attention back on the concierge. He dismissed me in an instant. If I hadn’t hated him before, I certainly did now.
After brushing off the stubborn clinging dirt from the pot, I thanked the guard that helped me to my feet. I nodded and smiled at everyone. The concierge rushed over to me, clearly distraught about the situation. I wasn’t sure if it was about me or the azalea plant. By the looks of it, it was definitely done for.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am. Are you all right? Is there anything I can get you?” He hovered around me.
“No, no need. I’m fine. I’m sure the plant didn’t mean to jump me.”
Other patrons laughed at my comment and continued on their business. David smirked again. I reached down, plucked a pink flower from the bush and set it in my hair. Straightening my shoulders, I strode past him.
“Good morning,” I said with a sing-song voice without looking at him.
I cou
ld see David bristle in my peripheral. As if I had offended him by wishing him a good morning. I wondered not for the first time, how Jonathan could have a man like that working for him.
“Ms. Laurent?”
I stopped and turned toward the desk clerk with a raised eyebrow.
“The bus will be here in a few minutes.”
“The bus?”
“To take you to the conference,” the clerk informed me.
“Oh right, the conference. Yes, thank you.”
“You’re here for the writer’s conference?”
I turned toward David and his condescending question.
“Yes. Surprised?”
He shook his head. “No. Suits you.”
I glanced out the front lobby windows as the yellow school bus pulled up to the curb. I smiled at him. “So nice talking to you. Got to go.”
“Hello again, dear.”
I looked over and saw the elderly woman from the washroom. I smiled.
“Still having man problems?”
“You could say that.”
“Well maybe something at the conference will help. I hear they’re doing a dominance-submission class this year.”
I turned my attention to the yellow bus in front of me. A big banner, which said Welcome Hot and Spicy Writers of Canada, was draped over the side.
I turned back to the little elderly woman. “You’re with the conference?”
She grinned and patted my arm. “I’m one of the guest speakers.” And with that, she guided me to the bus, and we got on together.
I sulked as I got off the bus in front of the convention center. My plans of following David had been diverted. Now I would have to find a way back to the hotel, grab my rented car, and try to track him down.
The little elderly lady, whose named I discovered was Beatrice Waverly, but she wrote under the pen name of Velvet Dream, shuffled up next to me.
“Don’t sulk, dear. You’ll get wrinkles.” She shoved a pamphlet into my hands. “Now here’s the schedule of events. Don’t miss my talk on oral stimulation. If you’re late, you won’t get a seat. I’m very popular.” She patted my arm again and shuffled off toward the center’s front doors.
I chuckled softly and looked down at the pamphlet. I opened it and browsed curiously through the events scheduled. What was on a Hot and Spicy Writer’s agenda?
12 p.m. – Welcome to the world of erotica: guest speaker – Emma Serena
1:30 p.m. – Oral stimulation – guest speaker: Beatrice Waverly
Chuckling, I continued down the schedule, until I came to an unexpected name. Jonathan Devane. This was his evening appearance? I clutched the pamphlet in my hand and hurried toward the convention center. There was still another eight hours until his event, but I wanted to make sure I got a good seat.
There was a line-up to get in. I squeezed in while my mind began to twist and turn in a million different directions.
Why was Jonathan speaking here? Devane Communications didn’t have any interest in publishing. Did they? Was this the big business deal Jonathan was working on?
“Your pass, please.”
I flinched and looked down at the woman sitting at the wooden table parked right in front of the doors to the convention center. I looked behind me at the big line and back to the woman, smiling.
“Um, what do I need?”
“Your conference pass. You have to have one to get in.” The woman with the big hair smiled.
“Oh.” I unzipped my purse and dug into it. I shook my head. “Ah, I think I forgot it.”
“You can buy a new one.”
I took out my wallet. “Okay, how much?”
“Two hundred and fifty.”
I paused, my mouth open. I didn’t have that much cash left. But damn it, I needed to get in there to see Jonathan. I needed to know what he was up to. “Do you accept credit cards?”
The woman grinned. “Of course.”
I slipped out my Visa and gave it to the woman. She smiled and pushed a form toward me.
“If you could just fill this out.”
I grabbed a pen and started to fill out the information. I wrote down Yvette Laurent for my name before realizing my credit card said Makayla Bradley. I looked up at the woman who was busy processing my credit transaction.
“Um, the name on the card is different from this one.”
“Honey, we’re all using different names here.”
I turned to the ‘woman’ standing next to me—a five-foot-eleven blonde bombshell with an adam’s apple.
The woman at the table handed back my card and my conference pass. “Enjoy.”
I nodded and scurried into the center. I made a run for the meeting room and was able to grab a seat at the front. As I settled in my seat, I noticed that my heart beat quicker, and my palms were sweaty. I felt very nervous for some reason. The thought of seeing Jonathan up front and on the stage directly in front of me made me very anxious. Or it could’ve been the thought of sitting here for eight hours without leaving which would’ve been the case if I wanted this seat by the time Jonathan came on.
Before I could make a decision on whether to stay or go, the blond bombshell sat down beside me, a smile so wide on his face I thought it would split his chiseled face in half.
“Honey, you looked like a drag queen running for a shoe sale, you got here so fast.”
“I know. It’s my first conference. I’m just really excited.”
He stuck out his well-manicured hand. “Lady Gwendolyn.”
“Yvette Laurent.”
“Stick with me darling, and I’ll get you into the best events.”
I smiled. I liked this man with the long blond wig, sparkly eyelashes, and three inch siren red heels. “Okay, but I have to be back in this room in this exact chair at eight o’clock.”
“Deal.”
For the next few hours, Gwendolyn gave me the tour of the conference, regaling me with several stories of conferences past. This was his fourth one, so he knew a lot of people, and a lot about each of the panelists. Between panels we snuck out for a drink, then true to his word, he had me back in the same chair in the same room for Jonathan’s talk.
I sat anxiously on the edge of my seat waiting impatiently for Jonathan’s appearance. As he was introduced, I thought I was going to hyperventilate. It was taking too long. Hurry up, stupid announcer, I thought. Bring on the main event.
Jonathan stepped out on the stage with style and confidence. I thought I heard a collective sigh from the predominantly female audience as he spoke assuredly into the microphone.
“Good evening.” His gaze swept the crowd making warm contact with his audience, until it rested securely on me. He smiled.
I felt my nipples instantly tighten into little hard buds. As he continued to speak, I felt he was talking directly to me. Flutters of lust brushed at my sex. When he was done, I looked around at the audience and knew by the flush on their faces that they also felt the flutters. Oh, he was good. Too damn good.
After his speech, I rushed outside to get some needed fresh air. I stood by a little clumping of bushes and spoke into my voice recorder.
“What was he up to? Opening a publishing house was a bold but possibly brilliant venture. It was risky endeavor to compete with the American market.”
“Hello.”
I jumped and fumbled the recorder. It dropped to the sidewalk. I knelt down to retrieve it, but Jonathan had it picked up before I could reach for it. He placed it in my outstretched hand.
“Do I make you nervous?” There was a devious flash in his eyes.
“Not likely.” I dropped the recorder into my purse.
“I’m sorry I left you without a word and with a pathetic excuse for a note.”
I would not soften. I would not give in. Raising my chin, I feigned a look of boredom. “No matter. I’m far from over it.”
“Let me make it up to you. Meet with me later.”
“No need, Jonathan, really.” I looked down at
my nails, pretending to examine a chip in one.
He watched me with keen interest. “I dare you to meet me later.”
My head snapped up toward him, my eyes flashing. “Excuse me?”
He took a step toward me, exuding confidence. I could feel his heat pressing against me, caressing me. His scent penetrated my senses and weakened my knees. Dear Lord, the man was like aerosol heroin.
“I dare you to meet me later. I guarantee you’ll be thanking yourself if you do.”
Oh, the arrogant bastard. But damn, he knew just what button to push.
“I’ll take that dare, and I guarantee you’ll be thanking me as well.”
He grinned, dimples winking playfully. “I have no doubt.” He offered his hand.
I took it cautiously. He turned it and brought it up to his mouth. Pressing his lips to the back, he scraped his teeth (fangs? I swore his canines were a bit long) against my knuckles, sending electrifying shivers up my arm and over my entire body. He peered up at me through dark hooded lashes.
“Shall we say, same place, eleven o’clock?”
“Okay,” I managed to squeak.
Jonathan released my hand, grinned, and turned on his heel.
Dumbfounded, I watched him walk back to the conference hall, my hand cradled against my breast. Little tremors of delight surged through my body and rooted deeply between my legs. Oh, the man was too much. I was definitely no match for his disarming charms. I could not win this game.
Jonathan reached the center doors but turned around briefly to look at me.
Or maybe? I smiled. Just maybe I had his number. Win or lose, I would go down trying. And hopefully, so would he.
“That man is one tasty piece of eye candy.”
I jumped and turned around to see Gwendolyn smiling at me.
“Jonathan Devane is one hot piece of work.”
“Do you think so?” But I couldn’t help the smile that blossomed on my face.
Gwendolyn opened his red leather purse and took out a pack of cigarettes. He slid one in his mouth and lit it before offering one to me. “You look like you could use one.”
I chuckled but shook my head. “I don’t smoke.”
Love's First Bite: Bad Boys and Alpha Vampires Boxed Set (6 book bundle) Page 24
