by Sara Hantz
“A what?”
“An Australian parrot. They were everywhere when I went to Queensland a few years ago.”
“I’ve never been. But it’s on my bucket list.”
“It’s a beautiful country. You’ll love it. I keep threatening to go back, except work keeps getting in the way.”
“Tell me about it. People might think writing novels is the perfect occupation, but I can assure you it has its moments.”
“Yeah. Same as being a journalist. Our lives are one continual deadline.”
Mac nodded. It was good to be with someone who could appreciate what his life was like.
“Anyway, back to the dress. You don’t look anything like a parrot to me, so stop thinking you do.”
“Good to know.” She smoothed down the dress with her hands. “Okay, I’ll buy it.”
She turned and headed back to the changing room, leaving Mac alone. He walked to the selection of masks and picked them up, one at a time, deciding which would suit Sheridan best. Except he didn’t want her to hide her face or beautiful eyes.
A shiver shot down his spine as one question pounded relentlessly in his mind. How the hell would he say good-bye to her when the convention ended?
Chapter Seven
“Would you like to come up for a drink?”
As soon as Sheridan asked Mac the question, she asked herself just what the hell she was doing. She hadn’t intended to invite him to her room. She was here to work, and somewhere along the line, she’d detoured and was more intent on spending time with Mac. If he wanted to, of course. Though judging by the way he’d been staring so obviously at her body when she was trying on dresses, that was a moot point.
A night of no-strings-attached sex could be just what she needed. When she left, Caitlin had told her to have fun, and perhaps she was right. Sex would help her to unwind. Even if jumping into bed with a guy she’d just met was totally out of character.
“Sure.”
They stepped into the empty elevator, and as they started their ascent, Mac turned and pulled her into his arms. He traced the side of her face with his fingers, sending arrows of desire shooting all around her body. Heat flared up between them, and the air caught in her throat. He was so close. His breath hot against her skin. She was trapped, unable to move as his mouth moved closer to hers. She didn’t want to move. All she wanted was to feel his lips. His hands on her body.
She let out a soft moan and leaned forward, but just before her mouth could find his, the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened.
They jumped apart. Two women stepped into the elevator and stood with their backs to Sheridan and Mac. They seemed oblivious to what they’d just interrupted. Sheridan’s heart pounded and her cheeks flushed. She exchanged a glance with Mac, and his fingers brushed hers, turning her body to jelly. She had to force herself to remain standing and breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
Finally, they reached her floor and they half walked, half ran to her door. She fumbled with the key card so much it was like it had a mind of its own.
“Here, let me,” Mac said, taking it from her.
They pushed the door open and fell into the room. Sheridan kicked the door shut behind them and grabbed Mac by the hand and pulled him toward the bedroom. Standing by the bed, Sheridan paused. Was she doing the right thing? The intimacy of the elevator was behind them, and now it was for real. She hadn’t been with a guy since her ex, who dumped her after being in Vegas. And now she was in Vegas about to have sex with someone she’d just met. How ironic. Except this was no comparison, since they were both single.
Mac kissed her gently on the lips, and she banished any worry she had to the back of her mind. She wound her arms around his neck and gently pressed her body into him. Her arms dropped until she could feel his biceps and then farther until they rested on his ass.
Mac stepped back, and Sheridan’s arms fell away. He turned her to the side and unzipped her dress. She tensed in anticipation of his hands caressing her body. He slid the straps from her shoulders, and it dropped gently to the floor, revealing her black lace panties. The expression on his face as he scrutinized her from head to foot flooded her with desire. She moaned, and as her legs gave way, Mac caught her and then placed her gently onto the bed.
Her body thrummed as she watched Mac throw off his jacket and shirt, and pull out a condom from the back pocket of his pants before discarding them, too. He then removed his boxers, and she took a sharp intake of breath. She’d never desired a man so much in her life.
She squirmed as he grazed her center while he threaded his fingers through her panties and dragged them down, nipping the inside of her legs with his teeth as he went. She breathed in his scent, an evocative heady mix of citrus fruit and ginger. She gasped and pulled him toward her, tilting up to meet him. He nudged her legs apart, and he thrust into her. She groaned, contracting her muscles tightly around him. With long strokes, he took her higher and higher until she peaked and waves of pleasure rolled over her. Only a few seconds later, Mac called out and followed her over the edge.
…
Sheridan snuggled into him with her arm resting across his chest, and it felt so right. This had to be the rosy glow he’d written about for so long. He hadn’t even realized it existed, other than in fiction. Of course he’d hoped it might happen, and thought maybe it would once he met his ideal woman, if there was one for him other than in his dreams. Whatever. He had to admit he certainly hadn’t imagined her to be like Sheridan. Which made it even better.
“You’re quiet.” He started at the sound of Sheridan’s voice.
He detected a note of reticence. Did she regret what had happened between them? He hoped not.
He ran his fingers through her soft curls. “Just thinking,” he replied.
“About?”
“Life.”
“Very philosophical,” she murmured.
“Well, I do have my moments.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the top of the head. “I’m on a panel tomorrow. I should go back to my room and do some preparation.” He gave a sigh. “Not that I want to,” he added.
“Stay then.” She pulled away from him and leaned on her arm. Her dark hair hung seductively over her shoulders, and her eyes locked with his, sending a raft of desire through his veins.
“I could be persuaded to.” He grinned and leaned over to touch her.
…
Sheridan stretched her arms above her head and then opened her eyes. Sunlight streamed in through the gap in the blinds. Today was going to be a great day. The thought took her by surprise. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken up feeling so happy and content. She turned her head to the side and saw Mac lying there looking right at her. A memory of the previous night flashed before her eyes.
“Hey, beautiful,” Mac murmured. His lips curled into a lazy smile.
Warmth flooded through her. Until panic crept in from nowhere. What the hell was going on? He called her beautiful, and now she was completely under his spell and unable to do a thing about it. How could she be sucked in by it all? It wasn’t how life worked. Sex was sex was sex. And now she was feeling like she’d swallowed a library full of romance books. And the worst of it was that she enjoyed the feeling. She couldn’t have felt more on a high if she’d done three hours at the gym followed by a ten-mile run.
“I’m going to order room service. Want something?” She hoped that ordering food and coffee might ease the ridiculous mind games she was experiencing.
“Sure. Then I’ve got to go back to my room to get ready for this morning’s panel. I need to read through my notes. What are you doing today?” He flashed a sexy smile in her direction, which sent spirals of desire coursing through her veins.
A repeat of last night would be good.
She had to stop this craziness. She was there to work. That was all.
I could do both.
She shook her head. It was like someone had taken over her mind and body. She had to get back on t
ask. There was an article to write.
“First, I’m going to speak to the organizers of the convention, take a few pics, get a few quotes, and then hang out and look for people to interview.”
Suddenly, it didn’t seem so important to do a detrimental piece like she had been thinking. She might not read romance or understand its pull, but that didn’t mean other people shouldn’t. She’d tell it like it was.
“Sorry, it’s such a let down.” He reached over and threaded his fingers through her hair.
“It’s not so bad.”
More ridiculous thoughts.
Yet, she meant it.
His eyes widened. “You’ve changed your tune since yesterday. I thought this was the assignment from hell?”
“It is. It was. It still is. I don’t know. It’s a long way from being a political journalist. But it’s not your fault I’m here. It’s not anybody’s fault here, so I shouldn’t take it out on you all.”
She wanted to pinch herself to make sure she was really awake and not in a strange dream, because everything that had come from her lips was so alien. Nice alien. But alien nonetheless.
“Spoken like a real trouper.” He grinned.
“Just watch it, or I’ll kick you out of bed with no breakfast.”
She reached over for the phone, called room service, then ordered a huge breakfast for them both. She was starving.
“Did they say how long it will be?” Mac asked.
“Fifteen minutes.”
“That’s long enough.” He smirked.
Sheridan snuggled back down under the sheets and turned to face him.
…
Mac glanced at his phone. Shit. If he didn’t leave soon, he’d barely have enough time to shower and change. He could always phone down and say he was sick and he’d be at the convention later. That would give him more time to spend with Sheridan. She was the most amazing woman he’d ever met and didn’t want to ever leave her side. He’d keep that thought to himself, though. One night in a Vegas hotel wasn’t a good foundation for a relationship. He’d have to take it slow and not frighten her off. For all her bravado, he sensed it wouldn’t take much to send her running in the opposite direction.
“You better go.” Sheridan smiled at him from over the table where they’d been eating breakfast. She was only wearing a figure-hugging T-shirt, and his eyes were drawn to the outline of her breasts. He forced himself to remain in the chair and not leap over the table to where she sat.
“We could play hooky?” he half heartedly suggested. He didn’t know what he’d do if she agreed.
“Go,” she said, firmly. “We’re not teenagers. You can’t let your fans down.”
“You’re tough.” He shook his head, feigning disappointment.
“I could have told you that a long time ago. I’m the toughest nut to crack that there is.” She folded her arms tightly across her chest and threw him a menacing look. Except it didn’t last long and she giggled.
“Apart from under the sheets.” He smirked.
In bed, there was no hard exterior. She was the most giving, yet adventurous, lover he’d ever had. But it was so much more. They’d talked for hours after. Agreeing, disagreeing. It didn’t matter, because there was an easiness between them that he’d never felt with a woman before.
“If you say so.”
“I do. And tonight we’ll resume where we left off. If that’s okay with you?” he asked with a nod.
“Of course.” Her cheeks flushed.
He left the table and went back to the bedroom where he pulled on his clothes from last night. He stood in the doorway for a few seconds, watching Sheridan as she read the newspaper.
He walked over and kissed her on the top of her head.
“Meet me for lunch later at Barakoa?”
She looked up at him and gave a seductive smile. “You bet,” she replied.
He slipped his hand down the front of her T-shirt and cupped her warm, full breast in his hand.
“It’ll kill me not to be able touch you, but we’ll make up for it later.”
Chapter Eight
Sheridan sat back in the chair, allowing memories of the last day and night to wash over her. She glanced up at the air conditioning and scowled, still half convinced there was some underlying subterfuge on the part of the hotel and convention organizers to drug them. Then again, did she care? Because she’d met the most amazing guy, who did things to her she hadn’t believed possible. And she didn’t just mean the sex. Although that was incredible, she had to admit. There was more to it. He made her feel safe and cared for. She’d never experienced such intimacy before. Hadn’t known it was possible.
She loved what was happening to her, but it scared her, too. She was in total unchartered territory. What she had believed to be utter crap—true love—she now wondered if it actually existed. And not only that, she was talking love at first sight. Because that was near enough what was happening to her.
Her phone vibrated on the table, and she picked it up to see her editor’s number on the caller ID. She tensed. “Jane. Is there a problem?”
“No. Just calling to see how the convention’s going?”
She should only know.
Except no way would Sheridan tell her how close she and Mac had become. Gossip was Jane’s middle name, and no one in their right mind confided in her about anything.
“As you’d expect. Crazy. And plenty of middle-aged women hanging on to the every word of the many tanned, half-naked, muscle-bound cover models, hoping to sleep with one of them.”
“Lucky you. Maybe I should fly over and cop a feel for myself.” Jane laughed.
Sheridan sucked in a breath. She’d seen Jane in predator mode, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. “No time. The convention’s over tonight. Maybe next year.”
As long as I’m well away from there.
“I might just do that. Remember, we need your copy by ten Sunday morning. What interviews have you done so far? Have you spoken to the organizers?”
She stifled a sigh. Jane could be so annoying with her micromanaging. She should learn to let people get on with doing things their way. “They’re on my list for today. I have also spoken to an author, B.A. Mackenzie. He’s given me a good insight into the convention.”
In more ways than one.
Warmth flooded through her as, once again, the memory of their night together invaded her consciousness.
“He? You’ve met a male romance author, huh?”
Sheridan could almost hear the cogs in Jane’s brain whirring. Why hadn’t she kept meeting Mac to herself?
“Yes.” A breath caught in the back of her throat.
“I love it. Make him the main focus of your article. A male romance writer will certainly capture the interest. Is he gay?”
“No,” Sheridan replied with more force than she’d intended.
“You seem pretty sure of yourself.”
Sheridan knew Jane was sitting there on full alert, making all sorts of assumptions. She couldn’t allow her to even suspect there was anything between her and Mac because it would damage her reputation, on so many levels. And get back to her father quicker than you could say hookup.
“It wasn’t hard to work out, given the way he only had eyes for women and not men when we were talking.” Okay, a slight exaggeration and probably a naive assumption. But it wasn’t hurting anyone.
“Sounds like a sleaze,” Jane replied.
“You know what these arrogant pseudo-celebrities are like.”
Forgive me, Mac. You know I don’t mean it.
Jane laughed. “So pander to his ego and get a good story. Hopefully, he’ll drop his guard, and you’ll get some good quotes. For a start, we want to know what sort of guy writes romance.”
Sheridan shook her head. The dreaded question. The one she herself had asked. And really wished she hadn’t.
“Well, I’m…”
“Actually, why don’t you do an argumentative piece. Male versus female wr
iters. We could call it ‘Can Guys Write Romance?’” Jane interrupted. “Get input from the organizers and convention attendees. Bring out the worst in them all. It will make fabulous reading.” She laughed.
Sheridan shuddered. That wasn’t what she had in mind, especially not now.
“Leave it with me. Copy will be in on time. I’ve never let you down before. I’m not going to start now.”
Sheridan was well aware that Jane wanted her to hang Mac out to dry just to give the convention story a boost. It wasn’t necessary. She was sure she could make the convention sound insane without even mentioning Mac.
“True. So what about Vegas? Are you having fun?”
Not in the way you mean. Actually, exactly in the way you mean.
“It’s how I imagined it to be. Wild and crazy.”
Although she had to admit that in the short time she’d been here, she hadn’t come across a miserable person. Everyone seemed to throw themselves headlong into the craziness. And some might even say that Sheridan herself had embraced it after what she’d done last night.
“Yes. But are you enjoying yourself?”
Yes. Yes. Yes.
She caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair messy and falling over her shoulders. The look of a girl who’d spent a night of decadent pleasure.
She hadn’t realized how incomplete and one-sided her life had been until being with Mac had shown her what she was missing. She shuddered to think how she’d cope if that was the one and only time she’d experienced it.
“I’m not here to enjoy myself,” she forced herself to say. She wasn’t going to admit anything to Jane.
“This assignment is wasted on you.” Jane gave a long sigh.
“I didn’t ask for it.” Sheridan grinned. It was a good thing they weren’t video-conferencing or Jane would get a shock— Sheridan hadn’t even bothered to get dressed yet. If she didn’t get into the shower soon, half the morning would have been lost.
“Touché,” Jane replied. “Try to enjoy the rest of your time there. I’ll see you next week.”
Sheridan said good-bye and then walked over to the window and stared at the vast expanse of imposing mountains. They were stunning, especially the way the sun’s rays painted the giant rugged peaks. It made her feel very small. She realized that Vegas had got to her. But not in the way it did to most people. And not in the way she’d expected. It had brought Mac to her, and that was something she would be eternally grateful for. She had no idea if they would see each other after the convention ended. She hoped so. The thought of never seeing him again made her stomach churn.
