"No! That's not what I meant. And yes, I had sex ed. We were in the same class, remember?"
"That's right, you were the shy girl who blushed every time Mrs. Yates said the word erect—"
"Stop, or else I'll throw hot rocks at your new set of acrylics."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Try me. Besides, you might deserve a stoning for concocting this whole crazy scheme in the first place. What if seducing Trevor doesn't work."
"Oh ye of little faith,” Casey mocked. “It'll work."
"Yeah, it'd work all right if you were the one seducing him. This morning I felt like that shy, blushing teenage girl all over again. It was so embarrassing."
"I could."
"Could what?"
"Seduce Trevor for you. I'd be more than happy to find out what he's up to."
"Thanks for offering, Case, but no thanks. I'll manage. Somehow.” Syd cringed at the doubt she heard in her own voice. Yeah, she'd manage somehow all right. She'd manage to make a fool of herself and send Trevor running for the nearest door.
"Yes, you will. Now give yourself some credit. You're an attractive woman. What man could resist you?"
"All of them apparently,” Syd sighed. “My phone isn't exactly ringing off the hook with marriage proposals. Seems like lately, I can't even get a date. And I blew it with Trevor this morning. I had the perfect opportunity to play the temptress."
"And you didn't,” Casey stated flatly.
"I started to."
"And?"
"And ... I felt like a nervous idiot and shoved him out the door. Maybe I should call my doctor and see if he'll give me a prescription for anxiety."
"Enough with the negative thinking already. You've got to exude confidence, and I know you have it inside that stubborn brain of yours, or else Trevor will see right through you."
"Ugh ... I know you're right, but I'm just not sure about this."
"Trust me. You'll do fine. You said things got hot and heavy between you two last night. Keep doing what you did then and he'll be melting at your feet."
"But that's different. Last night wasn't planned. Trevor caught me off guard."
"Syd, stop making excuses. Now listen to me. Are you listening to me?"
"Yes, yes. Although I'm not sure I should be."
"That hurts, Syd. I'm trying to help you and what does it get me? Ridicule."
"Sorry. My nerves are on the verge of being shot."
"Okay. You can do this. Be yourself, just pump it up a notch. Put that Venus bra on again, light those eucalyptus candles I told you to buy, and hell, put Barry Manilow back on the stereo if that's what it takes. Create the right atmosphere and he's massage oil in your hands. Besides, Trevor is so hot for you that his eyes smolder in his head every time you're together. You have nothing to worry about."
"Well ... maybe you're right,” Syd groaned. She wanted to believe everything Casey said, but it was pretty tough when a girl had been burned once before. And if Trevor's eyes really did smolder for her, she hoped they didn't throw her so far off balance, she fell.
* * * *
Trevor strapped on his leather tool belt, grabbed his tool box out of the bed of his truck, and strode up the walk to the large Tudor style home. Thrilled wasn't a word he'd use to describe his feelings about being back in the posh Happy Hallow area. The nightmare of his last visit to the neighborhood was still making him seriously consider psychotherapy.
But if he wanted to keep his cover, he didn't dare defy Syd's orders. He had a sinking feeling that he was walking on thin ice the way it was, he didn't need to make things worse by refusing to do the job.
With a little luck, he could wrap up this charade in a couple more days. He'd get the information he needed, Alfred would be ecstatic with another colossal ad campaign, Smythe would be happy because Alfred was happy, Trevor would get his partnership and Sydnie wouldn't be any the wiser.
"Yeah, right, Vanden Bosch,” Trevor scoffed. He knew better than to believe that he and Syd could waltz through this ordeal unscathed. Once his mission was complete, misery would be his constant companion. He was going to miss Syd's sauciness, her soft skin and delectable lips.
She'd be mad as hell at him he knew, and he didn't relish the idea of being on her black list again, but then, he wasn't sure if he'd ever really gotten off it in the first place.
Trevor cursed under his breath. This was a situation that no matter what he did, he was going to come out the loser.
And so was Syd. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her. He'd done it once, and he sure as hell didn't want to up his score to two and O.
"Thanks, Smythe,” he grumbled. He reached for the doorbell button, but paused. Maybe he should come clean, confess his sins now, before something really went wrong, like Syd finding out the truth. Surely she'd be more understanding, more willing to forgive him if he told her the only reason he was doing this was to appease his boss.
Well, that wasn't exactly the only reason, he thought silently. The truth was, he'd agreed to this wild scheme because it was a chance to be near her again. And maybe, just maybe, they could pick up where they'd left off before this whole promotion debacle ruined it all.
But first he needed to find out how well Syd accepted his confession. And if she didn't kick him out on his butt in a fit of female rage, he'd brave telling her the rest of the story.
How he truly felt about her.
The creak of the heavy mahogany door startled Trevor out of his musings as it swung wide. Bright lights flashed and popped before his eyes, blinding him.
"What the hell?” Trevor held up a hand to block the glare of flashbulbs.
A hand reached out of the crowd and grabbed his shirt and yanked him into the house. He was pushed and shoved among a crush of people filling the foyer and an anonymous elbow jabbed him in the kidney. He lurched forward from the sharp pain and a tape recorder whopped his lip. The unmistakable taste of blood hit his tongue.
"Ace Loveman, with Mating.com,” a short, scrawny guy said as he stuffed his business card in to Trevor's hand. “How does it feel to be a Stud?"
"Would you compare a Stud to a Chippendale?” a lanky brunette asked from the back.
"I heard you'll be posing for Playgirl next. Is that true?” an older woman with flaming red hair asked as she pushed her short frame through the crowd. Her cat glasses sat on the tip of her nose, a sliver chain dangled from the bows and draped around her neck. She stared at Trevor over the top of her glasses as she waited for an answer, her pen poised and ready to jot down every word he said.
"Are you on a special diet?” someone else asked.
"What kind of exercise regime do you follow?"
"Do you wax your body hair?"
"Are you allowed to have sex with your clients?"
What the hell was going on here?! Trevor stared in disbelief at the mob of reporters filling the house. He'd walked into a circus all right. A media circus.
"Hold it!” He shouted over the pandemonium and waved his arms. Silence cloaked the room like a thick fog. He studied the throng of reporters and they all looked liked they were frozen in time, ready to titter off the edge of a cliff with their tape recorders and steno pads at the ready for one last scoop.
No one moved. No one dared to breathe.
But their eyes. He suppressed a shiver. Their eyes were as intense as those of a pack of starving wolves.
He raked his fingers through his hair and chaos erupted once more.
"What do you find sexy in a woman?” someone shouted.
"Do you worry about harassment charges?” another asked.
"Are you a Viagra user?"
Trevor groaned and eyed the door only a few feet away. If he could push backwards through the crowd, he'd bolt for his truck and get the hell out of Dodge.
An ear piercing whistle came from the back of the room and the commotion came to an abrupt halt.
"Let the poor boy alone,” a gravelly voice ordered. “Let me through. Let me
through, I say. This is my house."
Trevor watched the crowd of reporters part like the Red Sea for a little old lady who was lucky to stand five feet with her blue hair puffed like a cotton ball. She stopped in front of Trevor and craned her neck to look up at him.
She smiled and grabbed his hand and shook it with all the gusto of a Sumo wrestler. “Howdy there, son. My name's Della. This here is my house you're standing in. Glad you could make it."
"Ah, great to meet you, Della.” A series of flashbulbs popped as the two exchanged pleasantries.
"Now knock that off, all of you!” Della scolded as she shook her finger at the crowd. “You've done got yourself enough pictures for your papers. Let this poor boy be now so he can get to work. Go on, now, all of ya. I've let you traipse over my Berber carpet long enough."
A chorus of grumbles rumbled through the reporters as they filed out the front door one at a time.
"I'm pretty good with my hands,” Ace Loveman said before he made his way to the door. “Do you suppose I could get a job at Studs for Hire?” He smiled and rocked back on his Nike heels.
"I don't know,” Trevor said skeptically. “You'd have to talk to the boss and—"
"You want to be a Stud?!” Della chuckled. “Sonny, I think you need to start pumping some iron and take a few steroids before you can ever hope to look like this stallion here.” Della posed her hands in front of Trevor like she was highlighting a prize on a game show.
Trevor fought a rush of mortification and wished he could run before he lost what little sanity he'd managed to save. But he had the dire feeling that before the day was over, he'd need more than psychotherapy.
Hell. He'd need a padded cell.
CHAPTER TEN
Sydnie braked her Torino to a stop in her apartment building parking lot in the Old Market area of downtown Omaha. She rolled the windows down all the way and allowed the early summer breeze to flutter through the car's interior.
Cutting the engine, she leaned her head back and inhaled the freshness of the new season. The late afternoon sun warmed her recently babied skin.
She had to admit she felt like a new person, invigorated even, after hours at the spa. Like Wonder Woman, she was ready to take on the world and make her mark.
But no matter how invigorated she felt, she knew no amount of pampering could prepare her for the Seduction of Trevor plan she and her friends had plotted.
Whether she was ready to push Trevor to the brink of sexual frustration, didn't matter. It was now or never, time to put aside her doubts and be that femme fatale she'd always fantasied about being.
If Trevor was up to no good and after something, then she needed to find out exactly what it was.
And why.
If her instincts were right, Trevor was still working for Smythe and Jones on the sly, and he was searching for some kind of information from her concerning the Stardust Lingerie account. But what? What could she possibly know about the account that he didn't? They'd worked hand-in-hand on the ad campaigns for the company, bounced ideas off of each other and pretty much always agreed on what worked, and what didn't. It just didn't make sense.
Could there possibly be something else that he wanted from her? Her business was so new that it really couldn't be considered competition yet to any other contracting firm.
Trevor surely didn't hope to buy the business, did he? Since he claimed he'd been fired from Smythe and Jones, it was possible he might be looking for a new business venture. The day he'd applied for a job at Studs, he did mention he was in need of a change in his life—
But they had no figures, no proof that the business would even be successful. Sydnie had no doubts that Studs for Hire would be a runaway hit with the female population, but most investors preferred to wait and see before they entrusted their money in a supposed sure thing. And the majority of male investors probably wouldn't see a handyman service that advertised Playgirl contenders as fantasy plumbers, as a wise choice for their dollars.
Of course there was always the possibility that Charles Smythe wanted to resume his dirty little tricks and had arranged to drive her out of business. Chauvinistic Smythe wouldn't hesitate to seek revenge on a woman because she embarrassed him by quitting with a bang. And assigning Trevor to do his dirty work would be so typical of the man who'd caused more than one person a ton of grief.
But if Trevor's sudden appearance wasn't for either of those reasons, why else would he be here?
There was only one other she could think of—rekindle the flames between them. Syd shook her head, not buying that scenario. Trevor had made it blatantly clear that night in his office that he was in no way interested in a relationship with her.
Had he changed his mind?
Even if he did, that was tough. She'd been made a fool of and had been seen as nothing more than a tawdry office fling by her co-workers. Once was enough.
The familiar sting of tears filled Syd's eyes as she remembered the worst night of her life. She'd never been so humiliated and devastated at the same time. The iciness that had frosted Trevor's eyes was as clear to her now as if the whole scene had happened only moments ago.
And now, she'd tallied up another equally embarrassing scene between them.
True, last night the situation was different. Trevor had caught her making an idiot of herself while dancing in her underwear, but that hadn't stopped him from kissing her. And he wasn't the one who'd put the brakes on their foreplay. Next time she saw her dad, she'd be sure and tell him thanks for his impeccable timing. A few more minutes in her embrace, and she might have gotten Trevor to confess.
What if her dad hadn't called, she wondered. Would they have made love right there on her desk? Syd groaned. What did it say about her love life that every time she actually came close to having a love life, her dream man was always a co-worker? And that the co-worker she'd chosen, was only capable of breaking her heart in the end.
"Its says you spend way too much time at work, that's what,” she mumbled.
But what had transpired between them since she'd hired Trevor on with Studs for Hire, suggested that maybe he did care about her. At least a little. Maybe he had changed his mind about wanting to get involved.
Nah. Casey was right. Sex was his motive. He was a man, after all. Trevor was probably filled with regret once he'd come to his senses and realized what amazing, hot sex he'd missed out on.
Sydnie laughed out loud at the thought. Yeah, you bet.
"Private joke?” a husky voice asked from the passenger side window.
Sydnie jumped in her seat and plastered her body against the door. “What the—” she yanked off her sunglasses and stared in disbelief at the man grinning mischievously at her. “Vanden Bosch! You scared the heck out of me! You should learn to knock."
"You're in a car."
"So. You could still knock.” She watched him roll those whisky-colored eyes of his. “Kind of making a bad habit of spying on me, aren't you?"
"I wasn't spying. I pulled into the lot not more than two minutes ago."
"Do I dare ask what you're doing here?"
"Looking for you."
"Why?"
"What is this, twenty questions? I'm supposed to check in with the boss at the end of each work day. Remember? I'd hate to go against employee rule number five and get written up,” he mocked, undoubtedly making reference to the new employees’ handbook she'd left in his truck.
"How did you know I'd be here?"
"Process of elimination. You weren't at the office, so your apartment was next on the list."
"And if you hadn't of found me here, where would you look for me next?” she asked.
"Are you hoping I'm following you?"
"Of course not! I'm just curious, is all."
"Since you asked, I'll tell you. I'd start with the nearest ice cream shop."
Sydnie bit back a sigh. Was her life really that predictable—work and ice cream cones? Heck, she even had a shower and fridge in her office so she
could work late. Why did she even bother to pay rent for an apartment?
She studied Trevor out of the corner of her eye. He leaned through the car window and looked as roguish as any rebel character she'd seen in a movie. Maybe now would be as good a time as any to sweep away some of that dull predictability. As Casey suggested, have a little one-on-one fun. That is if she could muster up the nerve to seize this fortuitous moment.
Syd glanced down at her clothes and saw her favorite grey sweats and an old, oversized concert T-shirt. She put her sunglasses back on to help hide the fact she wasn't wearing any makeup and realized her hair was still pulled back in a most unbecoming ponytail.
James, Sherry - [Studs For Hire 01] Page 11
