Hers for the Evening

by Jasmine Haynes

  “I’ve a mind to do a few rounds of golf.”

  “It’ll be too cold for golf.” The daytime temperatures for November in Sedona were mid-fifties to low sixties.

  “I’ll be fine as long as it doesn’t snow.”

  “Men,” she said softly. She was hoping for snow flurries to get rid of him. If 122

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  he saw the courtesan . . . she didn’t want to imagine what he’d assume.

  “Women,” Hunter said with a chuckle. “Relax and enjoy.” He was behind the wheel of the rental car, having chosen the scenic route from Flagstaff rather than the highway. Though a much shorter distance, it took longer but Hunter claimed the vistas through Oak Creek Canyon and Slide Rock State Park were worth it.

  “Oh my God,” she breathed as he came out of a turn to a magnificent view of a red rock butte jutting into the sky.

  “Was I right?”

  “God, yes.” She wasn’t a nature girl, but one couldn’t help but be in awe of the majesty.

  He pulled down his shades and glanced at her.

  “What?”

  Pushing the glasses back up the bridge of his nose, he set his attention to the road as it meandered into another turn. “I like the way you say, ‘God, yes.’ ”

  Over the last couple of weeks, he’d tossed out several strange comments. They almost sounded like double entendres. Devon was afraid she’d been revealing too much with her body language, her attire, her glances. Was he starting to suspect she had a thing for him? Good Lord, that wasn’t why he was staying over, was it, hoping to get lucky with her? No, no, and hell no, the man was off limits. She had her substitute, and he would have to do.

  “You want to go hiking while we’re here?”

  She looked at him, tried to see inside his mind. “High heels are not appropriate footwear for hiking.” Though she did have her workout tennies. She couldn’t allow herself to spend that much time with Hunter. Alone time. Off-work time. It was bad enough sitting next to him on the plane, his body heat practically jumping across the armrest. She did not travel business class on such a short flight and sandwiched next to him on the plane . . . Lord, sandwich, she was making up her own double entendres. After the flight, the car was only marginally better. With bucket seats, at least she wasn’t touching him, but his scent still tantalized her. For some reason—lust and obsession—her gaze kept falling to his trousers, wondering. She crossed her legs trying to tamp down the burgeoning sensations between her legs.

  “You need to let go, Devon. There is life beyond work.”

  She snorted. “You sound like my ex-husband.”

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  “I am not anything like your ex.” A touch of growl laced his voice. She cleared her head with a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m edgy. Too much sitting still.” She’d never quibbled like that with Hunter. Her obsession was getting to her. She needed another night with her stand-in. She needed to stop wondering how big Hunter was, what his taste would be, how his skin would feel, if his chest would be smooth or dusted with soft hair, whether his nipples were sensitive, if he’d like them pinched . . . How he compared.

  “Apology accepted,” he said.

  She wanted to crawl over the hand brake between them and discover the answers to all the questions running around in her mind.

  “This is silly,” she muttered aloud.

  “Arguing?”

  She searched for something other than the truth. “No, attending the conference together. One of us could have handled everything. Two is a waste of company money. Besides, you should be at the office to oversee the audit.” She could hear the desperation leaking into her voice. The last two weeks she’d been telling herself she was fine, her obsession had dropped back down to mild attraction, yet here it was flaring out of control again. Maybe she’d have Isabel send the courtesan tonight. Which made him sound like a wrapped package that could be shoved in the cargo hold. Hunter didn’t fight her by saying it was a two-person job or that he had a capable staff handling every aspect of the audit and he was only a phone call away. “You would have missed the beauty of Sedona.”

  As he spoke, the towering red rocks fell away and the view expanded to the Sedona valley rimmed by distant buttes. The resort they were headed to was at the southern end. Somehow the sight worked magic on her. Or perhaps it was Hunter’s calm voice and laid-back attitude.

  She was here. She enjoyed his company. At the end of the three-day conference, she was going to screw the heck out of her stand-in and pretend he was Hunter. It was a win-win. Unless she got all edgy and ruined it. 124

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  7

  THE WOMAN COULD WORK A ROOM LIKE NOBODY’S BUSINESS. There were workshops on economics, investment strategies, mergers, due diligence, acquisitions, market instability, et cetera, but the real business was networking. Devon was a master. She had the men eating out of her hand after the Wednesday evening cocktail reception, and the female attendees were equally impressed. She walked the walk, talked the talk. He wanted her straight up against the elevator wall. Or on his room’s balcony, with the amazing view of Bell Rock and Court-house Butte in the background. He’d sat out there despite the chill of approaching dusk, a glass of wine in his hand as the sun set, painting the red rocks with spectacular hues. He wished Devon would let down her guard enough to watch it with him. Thursday, he wanted to jump across the dinner table when he perceived she was too friendly with a money man from Minneapolis. Friday, his jaw ached from all the teeth clenching he’d done. He wanted an hour alone with her, just one. She’d managed to avoid any one-on-one time, even for a second.

  Saturday, he saw her through the workout room window. In a zebra leotard and black leggings, she revealed every curve. He was ready to cut out on his golf date, but she’d asked to borrow the rental car for some Sedona shopping. He’d invited her to dinner that night. She said she wanted a long soak and a good book.

  With a couple of phone calls, he’d learned all about her weekend plans and what she was preparing for. Him. Only not him. It was the other one, the twin. Maybe he needed to take the direct approach and ask her to have an affair with him. He would even take plain old fucking, he was that enthralled. At eight-twenty Saturday night, he knocked on her suite. Holy hell. She opened the door wearing the sexiest little black dress. Short and velvety soft, it flirted with her thighs. He’d never seen the top half of her knees. The bodice plunged, the material draping her breasts in artful folds. The long sleeves ended in points below her wrists. Her stockings were fishnet, the heels of her shoes fuck-me high. Her blonde hair caressed her shoulders and bare nape. He’d never seen her hair down.

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  She’d done this for the other one. His eyeballs suddenly ached with jealousy. He barely knew where to find his voice. “I thought I’d fill you in on how the golf game went with Metro.” He hadn’t been wasting time to gain the extra day with her.

  She glanced at her watch, then once over her shoulder.

  “You have a date, I’ll be quick.” Oh no, he wouldn’t. He intended to be here when her date arrived. He’d bulldoze his way inside if he had to.

  “All right, a quickie.” She blushed as if she suddenly heard the dual meaning of the word, then opened the door wide to let him in. The large sitting room opened onto a balcony with a fantastic view of the red rock bluffs. At least it would be in daylight. A long sofa and armchair grouping took up one corner opposite the flat-panel TV. The computer workstation was tucked away by the bedroom door. A bottle of wine chilled on the dining table. Two glasses. Beside them lay an attractive plate of specialty cheeses, crackers, and fruit.

  He eyed them, eyed her. She didn’t offer an explanation for why she’d claimed a desire for tub time in order to get out of dinner with him. Her nose tipped in the air.

  The haughty façade turned him on. Inside she was probably screaming for him to get on with it. “They’d like to visit the plant.” He�
��d played golf with an investment group out of Seattle. Before doing a public offering, you had to feel out the interest level. If financial institutions didn’t back you or your stock price dropped significantly, you could end up getting a lot less than you’d planned on.

  “Sounds good.” Devon was not normally a two-word-answer person.

  “I would prefer that they come after the 10K has been signed off.” The report to the Securities and Exchange Commission was the final result of the year-end audit process. “I’d like to have the earnings release to give them.”

  “I agree totally.”

  Okay, that was three words. She glanced again at her watch, a twist of her wrist and a slide of her eyes, probably thinking he wouldn’t notice. Hunter noticed everything about her.

  Her perfume was different, more exotic. Beneath the soft velvet, the beads of her nipples revealed how thinly laced her bra was. If she wore one at all. A pulse beat at her throat.

  “Do you have any questions about them?” he asked. 126

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  “Not right now. After I’ve had some time to mull it over, I’m sure I will.”

  Devon always had questions. It was time to look at his own watch. Two minutes to go until the scheduled appointment. “Good. We can talk more on the plane tomorrow.” He turned, made a move to the door, stopped. “Do you want to do breakfast in the morning before we head out?”

  He could almost feel her hold her breath so she wouldn’t scream at him.

  “That would be fine. Seven-thirty?”

  Damn, he shouldn’t find this so amusing. He pretended to consider that a moment. “Or I suppose we can catch a bite at the airport after we turn in the rental car.”

  She huffed. “Whatever you decide.”

  He’d made his decision. He was going to have her tonight. He’d thought of nothing else for two weeks, worked it, arranged it. The courtesan, who should be walking down the hall to her door right now, would play a big part in making it happen.

  The man had damn well better be the punctual type. Hunter didn’t have a lot of excuses left. “Let’s eat here. The food will be better.”

  Her nostrils flared. “Okay, fine. Seven-thirty.”

  “We should probably load up the rental car first,” Hunter added. Devon shot out another breath. “All right.” Testiness hardened her consonants. “I’ll meet you in the lobby with my bag at seven-thirty ,” she emphasized. What was up with him? Devon had never known Hunter to be so indecisive. He usually said, “this is what we’ll do,” and it was up to her to object if she didn’t like it. That applied to a major business crisis or something as simple as where they’d take a vendor to lunch.

  She wanted to scream. Get. Out. The other Hunter would be here at any moment. This was the dumbest idea she’d ever had, arranging for his services while on a business trip with Hunter. She felt darn near naked in the fishnet stockings, garter belt, short dress, the velvet draping her breasts, and no damn brassiere. If she leaned over even the slightest, the low-cut cowl neck would reveal everything down to her navel.

  “Then we’re set,” he said, his expression bland. He didn’t care that she had another date or had used an excuse to get out of dinner. Nor did he seem to find it a big deal if he happened to be here when the man she’d dressed up for finally arrived. Dammit, he’d seen the wine and the platter. It appeared as if he was 127

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  stalling in order to check out her date.

  Well, it was a big freaking deal to her.

  Rat-a-tat-tat.

  Devon froze at the knock, her limbs seizing up, as if Hunter seeing his doppelganger was the end of the world. As if he’d know she’d hired his lookalike to fuck her.

  It was completely mortifying.

  Until she remembered that resemblance was in the eye of the beholder. People rarely saw that in themselves. Maybe he wouldn’t pick up on it.

  “Ah, Devon, do you want me to open the door for you?” The hint of a smirk curled his lips.

  She could swear he was laughing at her.

  “No, I’ll get it.” She had to make sure the stand-in didn’t call himself Hunter. Rushing past, she yanked the door open. Her heart had been pounding for the last ten minutes. This must be what it felt like for your husband to catch you with your lover ten seconds after you’d both pulled your clothes on.

  “Hi.” She practically dragged the courtesan inside. “This is Hunter Nash,” she said quickly. The man had been instructed to refer to himself as Hunter, to build her fantasy. She had to somehow communicate it was so not cool at this moment.

  He extended his hand to Hunter. “Kenneth. Nice to meet you.”

  The name shocked her. Kenneth. With his hair cut like Hunter’s and a dark gray suit and tie against a white shirt, he looked more like Hunter than Hunter did himself in the casual golf attire she wasn’t used to. The bone structure was different, sure, but Isabel was correct. Hair style, clothing, and a sexy grin went a long way.

  They shook. Hunter sized him up, a quick flash of the eyes, up, down, but he gave off no clue as to whether he saw the similarity. “It’s great to meet a friend of Devon’s.”

  Was he teasing? She wanted to shoot him.

  “Any friend of Devon’s is a friend of mine.” Kenneth—really, this was ruining the whole fantasy—closed the door, then slipped his arm around her waist.

  “Right, sweetie?”

  She tipped her head back. What’s up with that? They were both teasing her.

  “Sure, honey.” She used the endearment, but sent Kenneth a glare. 128

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  He took her chin in his hand as he had that evening in her office, and gave her a kiss with enough tongue to liquefy her bones. At least it would have if the real Hunter hadn’t been watching.

  She pulled back. “What are you doing?”

  “You make me crazy in that sexy dress. I had to have a kiss.” His eyes glittered for her the way she’d always imagined Hunter’s would when he was horny. “I’m sure Hunter doesn’t begrudge me a brief kiss.” He glanced up.

  “Right, man?”

  “Not at all.” Good Lord. His blue eyes glittered in tandem with . . . the other guy’s.

  Something was off in this whole scenario.

  Kenneth chuckled, arm across her back hitching her closer, his hand splayed over her rib cage, gently nudging her breast. Hunter’s gaze dropped, and she could have sworn his breath quickened.

  The courtesan nuzzled her hair. “I have a feeling old Hunter here wouldn’t mind watching at all.”

  She swallowed. How had she lost control of the situation?

  “Watching is great.” Hunter speared her with a blazingly hot look.

  “Participating is so much better.”

  Devon gasped, pulled free, and stepped back toward the door. “Now wait a minute here—”

  Kenneth reeled her back in, brought his lips to her ear. “This is your fantasy,”

  he whispered, his fingers rising inexorably to her breast. “Take it.” Her nipple came to life with his brief, but hard pinch. “You may never get another chance.”

  He retreated enough to lock eyes with her.

  She couldn’t say a word.

  Still holding her trapped in his gaze, Kenneth pointed to the table. “Pour her a glass of wine.”

  “I’m not getting her drunk in order to want this,” Hunter stated flatly. A look passed between the two of them. A corresponding chill shot through Devon. “What’s going on here, Hunter?”

  He stared at her for . . . ever, then shot a quick glance at Kenneth. “I was in the office late on a Saturday night.”

  Pins and needles jabbed every extremity. “Which Saturday?” Of course, she already knew.

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  “There is only one Saturday that counts.” His answer said it all. Good Lord. He’d seen her. Her skin heated, her face burned, her vision blurred. Like the Wicked Witch, she wanted to melt into a puddle on the fl
oor and drain away unnoticed through the grout in the entry tile.

  “I’ve thought of nothing else but being a part of it ever since.” Hunter didn’t move, didn’t try to touch her, yet his eyes caressed her body as if he’d used his hands. “You can’t possibly imagine how much I want you.”

  As much as she wanted him. She wasn’t alone in this obsession. As terrifying as it was to have her secret revealed, she wasn’t the only one anymore. He felt the same things. The tension stretching across her chest had the slightest give, but for one issue. “How did you know about tonight?”

  “I know about Courtesans.” Not a single muscle on his face twitched. His gaze didn’t flinch or flicker.

  Once again her body froze, time suspended. He knew of Courtesans. It still didn’t make sense. How could he have connected all those dots? She jerked a thumb at the stand-in. “He told you that’s where he came from?”

  The courtesan stood there, arm still anchoring her to him, fingers brushing her breast, and let Hunter field the questions.

  “I received an anonymous voice mail to come to the office that night, and I recognized the woman’s voice.”

  Isabel. She was the only one. “How could she do that?” Devon shook her head. It was a violation of the trust clients placed in Courtesans, in Isabel herself. She preached confidentiality. “I’m her client.”

  “You’re her friend.” Kenneth tucked her hair behind her ear. That would be how Isabel thought. Devon was no longer a Courtesans’

  patron; she was Isabel’s friend. Isabel had never considered Hunter off limits once they were both divorced. Business and pleasure were separate. Instead of supplying a fantasy, she provided what she believed Devon truly wanted: the real Hunter, not a stand-in.

  “It’s a gift she wanted to give you.” Kenneth turned her chin to Hunter, forced her to look at her CFO, her employee, the man she’d lusted after for months. “Tell him you need it,” he murmured.

  She couldn’t breathe. Hunter captured her with the blueness of his eyes. Her gaze dropped. He was big, hard, filling out his slacks. His arms were still bronzed from yard work in the summer sun. His chest beneath the fitted polo shirt was 130