by Fran Lee
“What the hell are you doing? You go chasing after that book broad? You get yourself tossed into the slammer?”
“Yes and no. I can’t explain right now, Frankie, but you’ll be the very first to know.”
As he hung up the phone and rubbed his unshaven jaw and stretched slowly, her voice asked softly, “Are you in a lot of trouble with your boss?”
He jerked his head around to see her standing in the hallway, dressed in that sinful piece of blue silk she had retrieved at some point, her eyes concerned and her coppery hair mussed from lovemaking. He rose from the sofa and moved across the room, watching the way her wide green eyes darkened at the sight of him, shirtless and wearing only a pair of unzipped jeans he’d dragged out of his suitcase when he’d gone to answer the phone.
“He’s not my boss. Just my manager. And he makes enough money from me. I don’t jump when he calls.” His voice was husky and low. God, how he wanted to pick her up and slide his cock back inside her once again.
His hands slipped around her small body and he bent to catch her mouth hungrily, ignoring her breathless protest. He felt her sag against him, heard her little moan and the deep sigh of pleasure and he swung her from the floor into his arms. He wanted this woman. He wanted her now. He wanted her under him. On top of him. Bent over the bed. Sitting on the countertop spread wide for his enjoyment. He wanted to do so many things to and with her, he ached. He didn’t realize she was struggling until he was halfway to the bedroom.
“David. Stop. We can’t stay here fooling around all day. I have commitments and so do you.”
He cut off her protest with a searing kiss but after a few moments she wriggled out of his embrace, forcing him to set her on her feet again. Her face was pink and her eyes sparkled with pleasure. He groaned and put his hands on his lean hips, fighting to get his body back in line.
“So last night was just a one-time deal then?” He watched her face and the play of emotions flowing through it. “That’s all you wanted?” His body throbbed with need and she wanted to skip out on him? He couldn’t believe it. It had never happened to him before.
She swallowed hard, as if finding what she had to say very difficult. “David, last night was incredible. Last night was my dream come true. I think you must know that. But dreams don’t stay wonderful and satisfying if you bury yourself in them and exclude the other things in your life. Believe me, I would love to spend the whole day in your bed but I have people who are counting on me. And so do you.” She gazed up into his face and turned to the entryway mirror to fix her messy hair.
He stared down at her as she ran her fingers through her coppery red curls and she stuffed the ivory pins back in to secure a quick knot. He ran his fingertips slowly along the curve of her neck and she shivered and closed her eyes. “I can’t walk away from you when you do that.”
“Then don’t walk away.” His voice was thick with need.
She turned and met his gaze and a sad little smile curved her lips.
“What?” he growled, frowning at her.
“Usually this goes the other way, you know.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Usually the woman clutches the man’s arm and begs him to stay and he says, ‘sorry, babe, but I have things to do, places to be’.” She sighed softly as her fingers trailed over his whiskery cheek.
He stared down into her face, unsure what she was trying to say, until she stood on tiptoes and brushed his mouth with hers. “You will always be my dream lover, David Chance, no matter where you go. No matter where your future takes you. I will never be able to forget you. But you will forget me. That is a certainty.”
He felt like she’d just slugged him in the gut. He couldn’t seem to get his breath. She couldn’t be fucking serious?
She backed away and smiled up into his confused dark eyes. “I’ll put another face on my next novel and I will see to it that you get a full model’s session pay and royalties on the first five books I wrote. I think that’s only fair. I hope that’s enough. And I’ll end the series about Chance Davis with number six. Chance Davis died last night. And Chance Braza goes on without having to worry about the world knowing his secrets. No one will know but you and me. And I can promise you that your secrets are safe in my heart.”
She touched his rough cheek gently with a hand that trembled. He caught the hand and turned the smooth palm to his mouth. “So this is it? You just leave and I go on to Milwaukee and we never meet again?” He sounded almost angry.
Sam wanted so terribly to pull him to her and kiss him but if she did, she would be making him stay when he needed to be cut free and let go again. A sort of romantic catch and release.
He had brought magic into her life last night. But it would be the most unrealistic thing in the world for her to ask him to stay. The exquisite night spent together had done something amazing for both of them. David Chance would benefit from it, just as she had. But he had his own life, while she had hers. And they couldn’t possibly be further apart. She had to keep her head tacked on. This was her dream. That’s all it was. But it was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do, walking away. Or at least, that’s the way it always ended in books. “Two ships passing in the night” and all that. Trite, but true.
“Thank you so much for last night, David. You were everything I ever dreamed you were.” She reached for her bag and smiled brilliantly up into his eyes. “Go catch that plane to Milwaukee and I’ll see that your money reaches your business manager.” And then she was gone.
He stared at the door for some time after she’d vanished through it. His body was throbbing with need. His mind was rebelling.
What the fuck?
Had he just been dissed by a woman half his size? Had she really just fucked him and walked out of his life like he was some fucking gigolo?
By the time his brain kicked back in and his indignation forced his feet to move, she was gone. And by the time he stormed into the lobby, his feet bare and his fly hanging half open, to demand if the front desk clerk had seen her leave, he realized that about twenty women were staring at him like he’d just served himself up for breakfast on a silver platter. He flexed his massive shoulders and rolled his head, then backed into the safety of the elevator just as they began to rush forward.
He rode the elevator back up and stalked into the penthouse suite in a towering fury. No way. No fucking way was some half-pint redheaded writer going to screw him half to death and then dump his sorry ass. He threw his suitcase onto his bed and tossed his things into it. If it was a war she wanted, he’d fucking well give her one. And when he got her alone next time, she wasn’t going anywhere.
He jammed his feet into his shoes with a muffled curse. And he barely caught sight of his naked chest in the hall mirror before he headed out the door half-naked and still in a lather. He snatched a shirt from the mess in his suitcase. Damn her. Damn all women to hell. No. Just her. Yeah. He had a better punishment in mind for her.
Chapter Four
Phyllis was on the stair machine when Sam arrived at the gym and the curious, avid look the woman gave her made her blush. “It’s okay, Phyllis. He isn’t going to sue. But I agreed to stop using the name and the face. The series ends with the one currently in edits.”
The woman pursed her lips and asked thoughtfully, “And what else did you give him for his kindness?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. Just dinner and a drink.” Her face turned a darker pink.
“You are a lousy liar,” Phyl snorted, shaking her head.
She sure as hell was. She had gone back to her apartment this morning in a mental and physical haze, too confused and dazed to think straight. The amazing night she’d spent in his bed, on his floor, in his shower and other places that she blushed to recall had left her virtually exhausted, in more ways than just one. She swallowed hard and licked her dry lips, trying to appear casually calm. But the calm fizzled as she stared at the console in front of her and tried to focus on a climbing rou
tine.
“He was my dream come true…” Sam’s soft voice died off as a tear slid down her cheek.
And what a dream. She could never have imagined what it would feel like to be in such strong arms, moving in sensuous rhythm with a body that far surpassed even her most heated dreams. To feel the hot, deep movement of his body inside hers as he made her forget everything except his touch, his mouth, his hands, his marvelous ability to make every delicious little dream come to life. What a pathetic ninny she was.
Phyllis stared at her and then said quietly, “You are madly in love with the man and you only met him yesterday.”
Shaking herself back to the moment, she shook her head. “Wrong. I met him when I was fourteen and terrified of life after the accident. He kept me happy for the last twelve years and I owe him my life and my success. That man was my lifeline and he wasn’t even aware that I existed.” She started moving and almost tripped over her own feet.
Her business manager just stared at her. “So, where is your lifeline now?”
“Probably disembarking in Milwaukee, getting ready for a show.” She shrugged and focused on her program. “I left him in his hotel suite this morning.” And she was still berating herself mentally for doing that.
“You walked away from that gorgeous hunk? Are you out of your pea-pickin’ mind? You let that man just walk away?” Her business manager stared at her as if she’d just gone bonkers.
Sam shook her head. “He was my dream. You can’t hold onto a dream. You have to let it go, or it will just fade into nothing.” I think. Too late now. The die had been cast and he was gone forever. Stupid.
Phyllis stared at her with her mouth hanging open then seemed to decide to keep silent. “There went one hell of an impressive ad campaign,” she murmured.
* * * * *
“About time you decided to honor us with your presence, Braza!” Frank exploded when David stepped into his manager’s hotel room at the Milwaukee Hilton later that afternoon.
He was in no fucking mood to listen to another tirade about how he owed his manager his very existence. It was getting old. Way old. “I don’t expect you to understand, so I won’t bother to explain.” David shrugged and walked to stare out the window at the traffic below.
“How’d it go with that broad? She kick out some money?”
“Yeah but I’m not going to accept any of it.” David turned back from the window and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets.
“You’re shitting me, right?” Frank’s jaw dropped.
David shook his head and his eyes met the faded blue gaze of the older man. “No, I’m not. We had a long talk and she agreed to stop using my face and my name. I got a lot of free publicity out of those books. Just let me handle it.” It was a lie but he had no intention of confiding his real plans to Frank. His plans for Samantha Hastings had nothing to do with forgetting about anything. He planned on full vengeance. But not for the fucking books.
Frank stared in open shock at his star client, his jaw working soundlessly. When he finally managed to form a coherent sentence, he shouted, “Are you crazy? You let that broad get under your goddamn skin in just one night?” Black eyes seriously challenged his tone and he cleared his throat, suddenly conciliatory. “Look, you’ll forget her in a week. You’ll get your head together and you’ll decide you want that money.”
David stared at the older man without comment on his thoughts for the future. Forget Samantha Hastings? Fat chance of that-double entendre intended. Green eyes flashed in his thoughts. Her long, slim legs wrapped around his body as she let him know exactly how well pleased she was with his every touch. No faked response there. Forget her? Frank had no friggin’ idea what the hell he was talking about.
It left a sour taste in his mouth to think that she had played him for a jackass, using that incredible little Mata Hari body and that sweetly innocent smile to make a fucking sap out of him. And he had fallen for it. Settle with her? For money? No, it wasn’t her money he wanted. He wanted far more than money.
David just shrugged and sauntered out of his manager’s room without another word to find his own suite. Let Frank think that. He knew exactly what he wanted. He would flush her out and drag her back if it took every damn dirty trick he knew. He wasn’t going to let her get away with using him, then dumping his ass. No way.
* * * * *
Phyllis was sitting at her desk when Sam stepped into the office. She raised her eyes from the pile of paperwork and smiled broadly. “Well, the book sale receipts for March are in and you and I are both a whole lot richer.” She stretched her arms over her head and kicked her feet up onto the edge of her desk. “So, what is our next project, since you don’t plan to continue with the series?”
Sam returned her smile guiltily. Not being able to write more in the series about her dream man was seriously cramping her style. Book six in the series was in edits, but there would be no book seven. She had seriously tried to write a totally different hero. It had so far been fruitless. She hadn’t managed to put ten words on paper since that night in his hotel room.
Every time she tried to think up a new hero for a new book, she would be assailed by the memory of dark, slumberous eyes that could almost see through her soul. Hands that cupped and teased and heated her body until she almost orgasmed just thinking about them. A hard, sensuous body moving over hers in an erotic dance that melted her body and mind into putty, and lips that left her breathlessly aching for still more wicked pleasure.
“I’m sorta up against a brick wall here, Phyl. I’ve genuinely tried to work up another hero and build other plots. I’m just…stuck!” She twisted her hands irritably into the hem of her sweater, frustration eating at her. “I seriously can’t write another book right now.”
Phyllis’ jaw dropped and her face went pale. “You can’t be serious. I have advance sales posting on book six, and we owe your publisher another book before end of year. I don’t care what the hell you write about. Just write, for Pete’s sake! You can’t dump your career just because you can’t write about one guy!”
Sam sighed and sank into the big chair opposite Phyllis’ desk. “I’ve tried for the past ten days. I just keep drawing a blank. Or I start writing about Chance again and I can’t do that. I promised.”
Oh yes, she had promised. And like an idiot, she had walked out and decided to never see the man again. And now she would have to live with that utterly asinine decision. Try as she might, she couldn’t get him out of her mind, out of her system or out of her fevered dreams. She was so damn pathetic. One night with a hot body and she was a complete basket case. How disgusting.
Phyllis’ voice brought her back to earth. “You damn well better pick up that phone and call him, or I will.”
“Call him for what?” Sam frowned. She hated it when Phyllis was right about things. She had wanted to call the damn man for the past week but she had made her decision and she would stick by it, come hell or high water. Besides, he hadn’t called her either.
“To get his damn ass back here and give you back your inspiration. You are about to throw away a multimillion-dollar writing career because of your damn pride!”
Sam sighed and shrugged. Phyllis was going to be no help at all, she could see. Every damn time she closed her eyes, she was back in David’s arms. She had to get her head screwed on straight again even if that meant she had to buy a one-way ticket to Mars.
And Council Bluffs might as well be Mars…
“It’s about time I took a long vacation, Phyllis. I’ve already made reservations and the ticket is paid for, so don’t try to talk me out of it. I’ll keep in touch and of course I will try to formulate some other characters, but I don’t plan on being back in Cleveland for at least ninety days.” She needed time to get him out of her system for good.
The older woman’s mouth worked soundlessly and Sam patted her hand gently. “Oh, and make sure you pay David Chance that money I promised to send to him. Unless you want a lawsuit of biblical pr
oportions.”
“You can’t just walk off when I’m sitting on the damn hot seat!” Phyllis’ mouth was working like a guppy out of water.
“Oh yes, I can. Watch me. Here I go.” Sam rose from the chair and turned to walk to the door. “You’ll survive. Just give me some room to breathe for the first time in the past two years. I’ve pumped out five best sellers for you and I’m damn tired. I love you, Phyl, but I can’t do this anymore until I get my head screwed back on straight.”
* * * * *
Council Bluffs had been her hometown a long time ago and it held many fond memories for her. It would be a comfortable place to lounge around and take long walks in familiar parks. Of course, nobody lived there who remembered her anymore. Not since her mom had died. But it did feel like home, to some degree. Sort of. Okay, not really. But it was far enough away from Cleveland to make her feel comfortable. Nothing here reminded her of her career or of a breathless night spent living her fantasies. In fact, nothing here even smacked of a fantasy.
She had traveled cheap and fast.
The hotel room was anything but luxurious but it would serve her needs nicely. It had an internet connection and cable TV, so she was set. She didn’t need luxury.
She had only stayed in one four-star hotel in her life and it had been the one night she would never be able to forget. A night spent with a man who had taken her, body and soul, into a world she had only seen in dreams. Into a realm where even a plain, scarred woman could imagine she was somebody special, beautiful, desirable. And, oh my God, had he ever made her feel totally desirable! She shook away the memories and swore at her own inability to get her mind off him. She had to!
If she was lucky, she would get to sleep in until noon and be a lazy slob, letting the maid clean up after her. Eating out and not having to worry about dishes. She owed herself the rest. She owed herself the vacation. She owed herself the time to be alone and think.
