James, Sherry - [Studs For Hire 01]

by Woman On Top (lit)

  Yeah, right. She really had the look of a seductress going here. Perhaps it'd be best to put this would-be temptress skit on hold until later.

  A lot later.

  "Okay, so you've checked in. I'll see you in the morning,” she said in a rush, suddenly eager to get rid of him.

  "Not so fast.” Trevor opened the door and slid into the seat beside her.

  Sydnie cringed. Great. Just what she needed. One close look at her this way, and Trevor would bolt from the car in horror, never to return.

  The roominess of the classic car shrank with Trevor's muscular frame filling the right-hand side. Why did he have to be so darn handsome—and so big? Just looking at him made her tingle all the way down to her toe ring.

  "Sorry. I'm kind of in a hurry,” she said, searching for any excuse to end this impromptu meeting. She needed more time to prepare herself for this. Much more time. She needed a facial.

  And she needed air.

  Even with both windows wide open, the car was suffocating. She grabbed the door handle but Trevor's hand encircled her arm, stopping her. The touch of his fingers on her skin, and the overwhelmingly close proximity of his body, sent the temperature soaring into the bursting thermometer zone.

  "Sorry, babe. You're not buggin’ out on me this time."

  "What could be so important that it can't wait until tomorrow?” she asked, breathless from the simmering warmth of his touch.

  "I want an answer. And I'm not letting you go until you give me one."

  "Pretty demanding, aren't we?” She swallowed hard, wondering where this extremely dangerous encounter was headed.

  "I want to know why you keep setting me up for the fall?” he asked with a harsh tone.

  "Setting you up for a fall? I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Cut the innocent act, Syd. You said there was a lot riding on that job today. Now I know why. You knew damn good and well I was walking into a reporter's feeding frenzy."

  "Oh ... that. Well, I see you survived."

  "Only because years of business experience have taught me how to handle tough situations. But whether or not I wax my body hair is getting a bit too personal for comfort."

  "Did someone really ask you that?” she grinned and tried not to laugh.

  "Yes!"

  "So do you?"

  "Do I what?"

  "Wax your body hair?"

  Trevor shot her a devilishly sinful grin. “Why don't we get naked so you can find out?"

  Oops! She set herself up for that one. “I don't think so."

  "All right. So tell me what is going on, then."

  "What? Nothing ... is going on. It just slipped my mind to mention the media promo scheduled for this morning."

  "Try again,” he said, his lips mere inches from her own. “From the first day I started working for you, you've been deliberately assigning me jobs that you knew I'd find ... let's say ... challenging. So far I've been attacked by a sex deprived old women, a Rottweiler, and now reporters. What's next on your list of tricks?"

  Even though Trevor was chewing her out, the movement of his lips as he spoke, mesmerized her.

  "How about a kiss ... from me,” she said before she could stop herself, or think about the repercussions.

  Desire chipped away the tense muscles lining Trevor's face. “Now that's one job I'd love to do.” The deep timbre of his voice sent a tremble of anticipation flowing through her body. He brushed aside her pony tail and let his fingertips graze over the flushed skin at the nape of her neck. Her breath hitched. With a firm, but gentle tug, he inched her forward—closer to his lips, closer to the heat. His mouth covered hers with deliberate slowness, teasing her senses with the delicious taste of him.

  Sydnie moaned softly in the back of her throat as his tongue sought and found hers. The kisses they'd shared last night had been hot, electrifying even, but this one, this one here in her car, in a public place, in broad daylight, sent her yearnings accelerating way over the speed limit.

  This felt almost naughty, and even dangerous.

  And she loved it. Bye-bye predictability.

  She clasped his shoulders and snuggled up against him. Trevor responded to her hunger and slid his hand beneath her shirt. With mystical fingers, he traced circles around her belly button. Her breath hitched and a fire erupted at the center of her femininity.

  Yeah, this was dangerous all right, she thought as they slid lower on the seat. Dangerous as hell.

  "Your skin is so soft, so smooth,” he whispered against her cheek. His tongue traced an arresting trail along her jaw and to her earlobe. The warmth of his breath against her skin sent her heart reeling.

  You bet. She was quite the seductress, here. Had Trevor playing right out of her hand she thought as she struggled to catch her breath.

  Trevor pushed up her shirt and loosened the clasp on her bra, exposing her breasts to the waning afternoon light. The brush of his fingertips across her nipple sent her heart into spastic mode.

  Yep. She certainly had this situation under control.

  "Whoa, dude,” a voice said from outside of the car.

  Sydnie and Trevor froze.

  "You guys really ought to do that kind of stuff in the dark. It's better for everybody that way. This is a nice place. Someone might call the cops."

  Sydnie craned her neck and glanced up at a young blonde-haired kid who stared down at them with his mouth open. Embarrassing moment number three clicked onto her growing list.

  "Thanks for the advice,” Trevor mocked.

  "Hey, don't I know you?” the kid asked as he pointed at Sydnie. “You live on my floor, don't you?"

  "Could be,” Syd said as she tried to move beneath Trevor and relieve the ache in her twisted neck. An excruciating pain shot up her leg as it cramped from their tangled position. “I work a lot,” she said in an effort to dismiss her newly introduced neighbor.

  "Obviously.” The kid scrunched up his face in revulsion. “Or else you'd have more time for sex in the privacy of your own home. The world is really going to the dogs when people your age have to have sex in their cars just so they can get it. That's major stress. Take a vacation,” he admonished.

  "We'll do that,” Trevor bit out. “Since you find us so old and repulsive, why don't you beat it?"

  "Sure, dude. No need to get nasty,” the kid mumbled as he hopped on his skate board and took off down the street.

  "Is he gone?” Syd asked.

  "Yeah."

  "He's right. This is a nice neighborhood. If someone sees us, they will call the police. You'd better get off of me."

  "I can't."

  "What? What do you mean you can't?"

  "Let's just say that the gear shift is pushing against a ... strategic point and my leg fell asleep."

  Sydnie giggled.

  "It's not funny."

  "Oh, yes it is. Look at us. That kid was right. People our age don't get it on in cars."

  Trevor joined her laughter. “Yeah. I hate to admit it, but I'm not as limber as I once was. Making out in a car used to be a snap."

  With Sydnie's help, Trevor managed to push himself into an upright position. She yanked her shirt down and studied the steering wheel, suddenly feeling like that shy teenage girl from high school again.

  Trevor stomped his foot against the floor in an effort to shake away the numbness in his right leg.

  "When was the last time you parked?” Trevor asked.

  "Ah, it's been a while,” Syd said, not wanting to admit that she hadn't had such an encounter since back in nineteen ninety-something. She removed the band holding her now skewed ponytail in place and ruffled her fingers through her hair.

  "Yeah. For me too. I guess I'm kind of out of practice—making out in a car that is."

  "Feeling out of practice with anything else?” Sydnie asked, deciding to try her hand at some sneaky interrogation. She needed to concentrate on getting some of her own answers.

  "What do you mean?"

  "How
about advertising? Do you miss it?"

  "What makes you ask?"

  "Curious. The creative person needs to exercise their right brain to keep it sharp. It's like anything. You don't use it. You lose it. I thought maybe since you're no longer working for Smythe and Jones you might be going through withdrawal."

  She glanced at Trevor out of the corner of her eye. He looked as though he was processing her questions, but had no intentions of answering.

  "You once told me you thrived on the creative challenge. Do you still?” she asked, trying again.

  "Sure. But working with wood takes creativity, and some projects can prove to be very challenging. I like it. And I like the freedom. It'd be nice not to have to put up with the pressures of the advertising world every day,” he added as though he were speaking to himself.

  "Would?” Syd asked. Now they were getting somewhere.

  "I mean, is. It is nice not to have to put up with the hassles. Guess I'm not quite used to the idea of being out of the ad business, yet. I did it for a lot of years. But come to think of it, I don't really miss trying to please the moguls.” Trevor slipped on his sunglasses. “Listen. I've got to run. I'll catch you later.” Trevor got out of the car and shut the door. “I'll see you tomorrow, Syd,” he said as he leaned down and looked at her through the window, his dark glasses hiding his eyes, and his thoughts from her.

  "Right. See you tomorrow. Oh, Trev. Before I forget, I've got a photo shoot lined up for you tomorrow morning at ten."

  "Photo shoot? What for?"

  "Publicity. We need some shots of our guys to attract business, and to use for the grand opening celebration."

  Trevor stiffened. “Ah, I don't know, Syd. That's not my sort of thing."

  "Too bad. It's part of the job.” She handed him a business card with the photographer's address printed on it. “Be there, or be fired."

  "Whatever you say, boss,” he grumbled and gave her a mock salute.

  Syd pursed her lips as she watched Trevor walk toward his truck. Trevor Vanden Bosch was starting to crack. He'd slipped, and he knew it.

  Syd smiled. The plan was working. Now all she needed to do was what Casey had suggested. Kick things up a few more notches.

  * * * *

  "This better be good,” Alfred said as he planted his hands on his hips.

  Trevor believed the ad campaign he'd slaved over all night long was damn good. But it didn't matter if Trevor thought it was fantastic. If Mars hated the ideas that were supposed to be Sydnie's, they were sunk.

  And if Trevor couldn't stay awake long enough to sell Mars on the campaign, he was sunk.

  "Don't worry, Alfred,” Smythe chimed in. He tugged on his sleeves of his expensive suit coat and smiled like a shady used car salesman. “We promised you a colossal advertising campaign, and that's exactly what we're going to deliver. Unfortunately I can't stay to do the honors, so I've asked Trevor to take over for me. I have another pressing matter to attend to. Trevor,” Smythe said smoothly, “the floor is yours. Now if you'll excuse me gentlemen, I must rush off. Duty calls."

  Trevor cursed under his breath. Duty called all right. The duty to tee off at the golf course in twenty minutes. Trevor tamped down the urge to grab his boss by his tailor cut coat tails and force him to bleed through this like he had to. Trevor didn't care to take this trip to hell alone.

  But that's exactly what would happen. And then Smythe would make good on his promise and fire Trevor when it all fell apart.

  "Just as well,” Alfred said as Smythe slithered through the door. “I don't like that man. He's as underhanded as a swamp rat. If it wasn't for Sydnie, I'd take my account elsewhere."

  Even though Trevor agreed with Alfred's accurate observation of the president of Smythe and Jones, he didn't comment.

  Mars glanced around the room. “Isn't Sydnie coming?” he asked.

  "I'm afraid not. You'll have to settle for just me."

  "Look. I don't have anything against you, yet, Vanden Bosch. But I'm beginning to wonder if you fall in the same rodent category as your boss. Besides, I miss Sydnie."

  Trevor ignored Alfred's implication and instead concentrated on the tinge of jealousy he was feeling. He was glad that Syd no longer worked for Smythe and Jones. That way she stayed far away from Mars, and Mars stayed far away from her.

  "I miss Sydnie as well,” he said boldly as his gaze locked with his client's.

  "I was looking forward to taking her out for dinner tonight to celebrate,” Mars countered. “When do you expect her back? I'll pick her up at the airport and take her out then.” He crossed his arms and widened his stance, clearly changing the thrust of the meeting.

  Seconds ticked by as each of the two men threw their nonverbal challenges for Sydnie's affections into the ring.

  "I'm not sure,” Trevor said at last. “When I spoke with her this morning, she made it sound as though it could be a while."

  Mars eyed Trevor doubtfully. “Have her call me as soon as she gets back,” he demanded.

  Trevor stiffened at the man's order then opened his portfolio. Getting into a boxing match with Mars wouldn't be a good idea. “Let's get started."

  "Yes, let's.” Mars eased his tall frame into a leather chair and waited. Trevor took a deep breath, ready as he'd ever be to put his head on the chopping block.

  "...and now,” Trevor continued thirty minutes later after showing Mars layout after layout, “Sydnie proposes we use everyday women to model the Venus Bra."

  "Everyday women? You mean just any woman off the street?"

  "To a certain degree. The idea is that the Venus Bra and thong panty can make any woman as sexy as any model, and as bewitching as Aphrodite herself. Men will love the lingerie because it'll give them something extra special to come home to."

  Mars shifted in his seat, not looking thoroughly convinced. The diamond studded ring on his left hand winked in the light as he gripped the arm of the chair.

  "Stardust Lingerie is a heartland-based company,” Trevor continued. “With that foundation, we can prove to the world your lingerie is designed specifically for the everyday woman—the secretaries, the nurses, the farm wives. They, too, can be Venus. Women are tired of seeing waif-like models strutting down runways. The average woman in this country doesn't weigh one hundred pounds. Convince her she is as sexy, as alluring as Aphrodite, and her loyalty to the product will make Stardust Lingerie number one in the galaxy. You'll sell millions of Venus Bras."

  Mars steepled his fingers and nodded, relaxing a bit. “I like it,” he said at last. “In spite of my earlier misgivings, I'm willing to give it a go."

  Trevor breathed a huge sigh of relief. At least he wasn't sparring with Mars over advertising ideas.

  "Great. We'll put the campaign in motion immediately."

  "Not quite so fast. I have one stipulation.” Mars stood and shifted his weight to one foot. He brushed back his blazer and placed a hand on his hip.

  "Whatever you want, Alfred. We'll do it. Say the word."

  "I want Sydnie to be the lead model in the campaign."

  What?! Trevor's heart lodged in his throat. Anything but that! “Excuse me?"

  "You heard right, Vanden Bosch. I want Sydnie to be the lead model. I want to see her on those billboards, in the magazines ads. And on my TV."

  "Sydnie isn't a model,” Trevor said with a hard edge. No way did he want every man, including Mars, and his dog, to see Sydnie in what he'd seen—practically nothing.

  "Isn't that the whole idea? Or did you just waste the last thirty minutes of my time whistling Dixie?"

  "No. Of course not, but—"

  "But what? Sydnie is an average everyday woman, yet she's prettier than a starlit night, and is sexy as Aphrodite herself. She's got a great pair of legs, too. Combine all those elements with that glorious hair of hers, and she'll have men running out to buy my lingerie so fast they won't care about anything else. Sydnie will be their Aphrodite, their Venus."

  For only the men of the world
? Or for Alfred Mars?

  "Syd is conservative, shy. She won't go for it,” he said in an effort to talk Mars out of this ridiculous stipulation.

  "She isn't quite the shy innocent you think she is, Vanden Bosch. I know what she's after by wearing those tight sweaters and short skirts. She's like any woman. They all want the attentions of us men."

  Trevor fisted his hands, wanting to belt the man. He took a deep breath. He had to remain calm, keep his cool, or he'd blow this deal, although at this moment he really didn't give a damn. “Sure, she wears tight sweaters on occasion. But that's her choice. I think she deserves the right to say yes or no on this proposal."