by Velvet Veers
Good thing the bet's not contingent on me seducing him on the first date. Since the conference ended tomorrow, tonight would be her last shot.
The short, daring, red dress she chose with the open v that plunged to her belly button would surely help things along. The dress was one Claire had picked up on special, one that she'd never thought she'd wear but decided it would make a nice addition to her wardrobe—just in case. Looked like her instincts and nose for bargains paid off. With the accompanying stiletto heels, the red, strappy spikes that all her friends called “slut shoes,” her legs seemed endlessly long. She had heard men liked that.
Claire flipped the television on while she applied her make-up. The announcer stated a prominent citizen had been found dead in his home-one bullet hole through his head. Glancing at the picture flashing on the screen, she gripped the vanity as her world began to spin. It was none other than the face of Rodney Rosenberg. The announcer said the police were investigating the possibility of a robbery.
Claire sank to the couch, shock and horror immobilizing her. She kept staring at the honest face of Rodney Rosenberg. She could not believe it. He was dead. Her mind jumped to the conversation with Rodney only the day before along with his parting last words, “These men are very dangerous. Watch your back."
* * * *
Claire O'Malley breezed into the lobby bar The Anatole. One look in his direction, told him something had her dander up. She stormed up to the table and threw her hands on her hips. “That better be tea, mister, after what you put me through last night."
Joe looked at the mad hornet in a sexy-as-hell dress. “No. Bourbon. Would you like some?"
"You have the nerve! Yesterday you commanded me not to drink. With that demand, I assumed you were a tee-totaller and here you are drinking. Want to explain?"
Walleye Joe got up and pulled a chair out for Claire. “Sit, Claire. You're making a scene. People are staring.” Placing his hands on her shoulders, he pushed the blazing inferno into the chair. When she squirmed resistant under his touch, he pressed down firmly on her shoulders, as if to send her a message.
Walking back to his seat without taking his eyes off her, he took a whopping gulp of his drink and sat down. “Now, that's better isn't it? The reason I didn't want you to drink last night was because I wasn't sure if you were one of those sloppy drunks. You know the kind. I didn't want to take the chance of the evening being ruined. Especially since I was the guest speaker."
Claire relaxed visibly and let out a sigh. “Oh. Okay. I'll buy that. Just don't tell me what to do again."
"I can't make that promise. I hardly know you."
"What is that suppose to mean?"
"Well, if you do something stupid, I'll have to tell you what to do—or not to do. After all, you are my paid escort. You see my point?"
"Look, buster, I'm my own person and no one tells me what to do."
He lifted one eyebrow and stared at her for a while before he remarked, “I'll keep that in mind, Claire. Are you ready to move into the banquet area?"
* * * *
She nodded. Truthfully, she was afraid to open her mouth. When he looked at her with those penetrating blue eyes she shivered from the sheer power of the sexual currents running between them.
But why am I feeling this? He's not my type! Big burly lumberjack types had never appealed to her before, so why now? She liked executive GQ men and Walleye Joe lay at the other end of the spectrum. And with all that facial hair, she couldn't even tell if he was attractive.
When Claire stood, Walleye Joe took her elbow gently and placed it in the crook of his arm. He led her into the Venice Ballroom to schmooze with the fishing crème de la crème. She stood by Joe's side, unable to participate in the conversation but reveled in the deep timbre of his voice. His encyclopedic knowledge and passion for fishing astounded her. Never having fished herself, she was amazed at the array of fishing poles, bait, and techniques used to catch a fish. Why bother with all this trouble, she wondered, when you can buy it in the store?
They migrated over to their assigned table near the front of the stage. Who should be sitting across from her but Harvey Morgan, the fishing commissioner himself! What luck. Walleye Joe introduced her to the other guests at the head table. Claire responded with expected courtesy though her mind raced with all the questions she wanted to ask the commissioner.
The conversation moved to the fishing commissioner's responsibilities and his importance in the community and Mr. Morgan launched into in full, self-glorifying detail. With his inflated sense of importance, one would think he was the governor of Texas.
Claire had an aversion to braggadocios. This man took the prize catch. Well, it was time to dive into the fray-or more appropriately, fry. She might as well get her hook wet now.
When there was a lull in the conversation, Claire jumped in. “I saw on the news this morning that your accountant died in his home last night. What do you think happened, Mr. Morgan?"
Several people at her table gasped and Walleye Joe frowned.
Have I made a faux paus? Well, who gives a shit? After all, she was a reporter first and this opportunity was just too good to pass up.
The commissioner reddened, then cleared his throat. “I did hear about that. I'm absolutely appalled someone would break into his home and kill him in cold blood. It's daunting to think one isn't even safe in your own home these days."
"So the police are sure it was a burglary?"
Morgan's beady eyes narrowed murderously. “Of course. Who else would do such a thing?"
"I don't know, but I was just wondering ... he was your accountant. Maybe he found something unusual at work that targeted him for assassination."
The commissioner sputtered and coughed. “Excuse me? What did you say your name was again?"
"Claire. Claire O'Malley."
Morgan pointed his finger in her face. “You're that damn female reporter always poking around for another sensational story. How did you get invited to this affair?"
He turned to Joe. “What is the meaning of this, Walleye?"
Claire glanced at Walleye Joe, attempting to gauge his level of fury. It seemed at least a twenty on a scale of one to ten.
Claire tried for a quick recovery. “I moonlight for Companionship, Inc. I've been hired to escort Walleye Joe for the evening. I'm not working as a reporter tonight. I was just asking you those questions out of personal curiosity."
"Well, enough of your interrogation, young lady, or I'll have you removed from the premises immediately. Do you comprehend?"
Harvey Morgan stood up and headed toward the men's room.
Claire ate her dessert in silence, not daring to look at Walleye. But she could hear him breathing—like a bull ready to charge. She was quite sure his foot scraped the floor under the table.
The master of ceremonies adjusted the microphone at the podium before he began introductions. Walleye pushed away from the table and sauntered to the stage, waiting for his cue.
Claire watched, mesmerized, as Joe spoke eloquently about the art of ice fishing and the soul of the nature experience. She watched his every gesture, animated and passionate, incredibly knowledgeable about his field. She saw a new side of the man and was wowed. When his eyes caught hers, she could feel him reeling her in—like a fish on the end of a line. But Claire wanted to be reeled in.
Once he finished, they turned the podium over to the fishing commissioner. He spoke on the water level, the record fish caught so far this season, and the continued efforts of his administration to make Texas fishing the best it can be.
The evening finally drew to a close and she dreaded the confrontation she knew was coming. Walleye Joe was beyond angry and she was beginning to feel intimidated, a rare occurrence for Claire. She jutted her chin defiantly in the air.
Well, she'd just show him she wasn't easily frightened.
They sauntered into the lobby and he stopped to chat with several people along the way. She inched toward the valet
desk. Maybe if she were lucky, people would stop him all along the way and, once she got close enough to the valet, she'd make a run for it.
No such luck. He grabbed her elbow firmly, steering her toward the lounge in the secluded section of the hotel. When she resisted, he grabbed her firmly and said, “We are going to discuss this, and you might as well go along or we can have it out right here in the middle of the lobby, witnesses notwithstanding. Your pick."
She walked silently beside him as he led her to a booth in a dark, back corner of the lounge, well away from earshot. She scooted to the far corner of the seat and he eased in beside her, his thigh burning her leg.
It's a good thing I don't suffer from claustrophobia. That's all I need to add to this chaos.
Walleye just sat there, his hands folded in front of him, not saying a word. The suspense was about to undo Claire when the waiter came up and took their drink orders.
Perfect timing, she thought, breathing a sigh of relief. Now he had to talk.
After the waiter left, Walleye Joe turned to face her square on, his arm across the back of the seat. “Let me see if I have this straight. Correct me if I'm wrong, but only after I've had my say. You are a reporter by trade and you've essentially used me to get a story. How am I doing so far?"
"I am a reporter, that part is true, but escorting you is also part of my work as an employee of Companionship, Inc.—quite separate and distinct from my job as a reporter."
"Sure it is. That's why you pumped the poor fishing commissioner for information at what was designed to be an enjoyable social function for everyone involved."
Claire looked at her nails. “I'm truly sorry about that. I admit I made a mistake. I guess once a reporter, always a reporter. I'm like an old bloodhound. When I pick up the scent of a story, I start the chase and don't stop until I've got the prey. I can't help that—it's my inherent nature.
"But I swear to you that I did not take this assignment with Companionship, Inc. to get a story from the fishing commissioner. Anyway, how would I know I'd be landing you as my first client?"
Walleye Joe sat frowning at her for a long time then finally spoke. “Okay, I'll give you that. There's no way you could've known about hooking up with me. So why did you take the job for Companionship, Inc.?"
Claire bit her bottom lip and tried to decide whether she should tell the truth—she opted for the lie. “I need the extra money. As satisfying as my career in journalism is to me, it doesn't pay well. Unfortunately, it takes the green stuff to keep a roof over one's head, gas in the car and food on the table. And my cat likes her Purina. She's very particular."
Walleye took a swig of his drink. Claire drank in every detail of his face, suddenly realizing how very, very attractive this man was, hairy face and all. But her heart fell. She'd already blown it. Might as well call it a night—and forget about the bet money. No way was she going to recover this one. Damn, there went her extra season ticket to the Dallas Stars.She grabbed her purse. “Well, Joe, I guess I'd better be going. It's getting late and I've got a full day tomorrow. I'm really sorry about everything that came down tonight. If I could, I'd go back and reverse what I did to you. I really wish there was a way I could make it up to you."
Claire decided to take one last shot at winning the bet. It would be a crapshoot, but what did she have to lose? She ran her fingertips seductively up his arm lying over the back of her seat. “Unless you want to take our nightcap up to your room?” There she'd done it—propositioned a man for the first time in her life. And she was still breathing.
* * * *
Walleye Joe felt conflicted, suddenly tight and uncomfortable. Feeling like he was about to choke, he ran his hand around the inside rim of his collar. He'd finally decided to do it—go ahead and indulge his animal instincts with this one-night stand with a prostitute. Then maybe his raging libido would leave him in peace.
But Claire's explanation of why she was moonlighting had thrown him into a tormented inner conflict. It was one thing to share a one-night stand with a prostitute—and quite another to seduce a working girl just trying to eke out a living. “I have a really busy day tomorrow. We better call it a night."
* * * *
Claire's heart fell to her feet, but she wasn't about to show her disappointment—and it wasn't just about losing the bet money. She wanted him.
"Certainly,” she said, forcing her voice to sound cheerful and nonchalant, belying the pain she felt at knowing this was the last time she would ever see Walleye Joe.
He walked her to the valet area where she handed her ticket to the desk manager. While they waited for the car to be pulled up, she felt the deep silence and emptiness wash over her. What in the hell is wrong with me? I've never in my life felt such a pull toward any man. Attraction was one thing—a deep urge to make love with the person was another. And with Joe, she felt a force field of magnetism pulling her to him.
She cleared her throat and said, “I want to apologize again for my behavior tonight and for embarrassing you. It was uncalled for. The truth is, I had a really great time both nights and found your talks of fishing quite interesting."
"Thanks, I had a nice time, too."
Claire leaned in and placed a hand on his chest. His heart pounded under her touch; she knew the force of their attraction was mutual. Maybe he wasn't as immune to her as he acted. Standing on her tiptoes, she slipped her free hand around his neck, pulling his head down to her level. The moment his warm full lips touched hers, Claire's blood heated, rolling through her veins like hot lava. Butterflies flittered in her stomach—and she wanted more.
Moving in closer, she felt desire emanating from his body like heat waves. Her passion flared to a roaring crescendo and she felt his hard, thick penis press against her crotch. It took every thing she had not to grind against it in a wanton fashion.
The car came to a screeching halt behind her and she released him. They stared into each other eyes until the valet cleared his throat. Breathless, Claire said her goodbye quickly and climbed into the car.
Fastening her seatbelt, she eased the car down the driveway. Faster than she could blink, a lone figure popped up from the backseat, grabbing her neck with his arm. Her heart leaped to her throat, and she yelped in surprise. How could this have happened?
CHAPTER 5
Walleye Joe felt crestfallen and immobilized as he watched Claire drive away. With his body in dire straits with desire, he contemplated jumping in his car and following her. To where though? To her apartment for a one-night stand? To make hot passionate love and leave her in the morning? That really wasn't going to do it for him. Not his style. But with his hormones racing, it was hard for him to think.
As he watched her car trail off, his breath quickened—there were two visible heads instead of one. Who in the hell was in the car with her? Whoever it was began to grab her from behind. Adrenaline surged as Walleye Joe shifted into autopilot. He did the only thing he could think of—ran after her car on foot, hoping like hell he could catch them at a stoplight.
The brake light stayed on. Good. Maybe he'd have a chance to catch them. As he got closer, he figured out that Claire had probably been so frightened she'd pressed her foot on the brakes instead of the gas, allowing Walleye time to catch up. A stroke of luck—or genius. He flung open the back door and grabbed the guy, wrestling him out of the car. The carjacker packed a punch hard into Joe's stomach, catching him off guard. The air whooshed out of Joe's lungs and he gasped for breath.
The carjacker took advantage of Walleye Joe's incapacity and tore down the street, fast as an Olympic sprinter in a hundred-yard dash. Joe helplessly watched the guy disappear. At least Claire was safe. He moved to open her door where she gaped at him, pale, with a glazed look in her eyes. She was obviously in shock. He squatted down beside her, speaking softly. “Claire, honey, are you okay?"
No answer.
"Claire, talk to me, baby. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you.” He peeled her fingers off the steering wheel
and engulfed her in his arms, rocking her gently. “You're safe now. The guy's gone."
Still no answer.
He had to do something. “Baby, let's go back in the hotel. You're safe now.” He gently helped her from the car. She followed obediently, like a sheep being led to slaughter. The valet came running up and asked if he could help with anything.
Joe answered. “Yes, you can. She'll be staying with me tonight. Room 2015. You need to have the manager call the police. Someone tried to carjack her, so don't move the car until they take a look at it."
"Sure thing."
Walleye Joe led Claire into the hotel elevator and up to his floor. He had his arm around her shoulders for support and she leaned heavily against him, her body limp. At the feel of her trembling, he rubbed his hand up and down her arm, trying to make her feel safer. He unlocked the door to his room, still supporting her with his other arm. Carefully he walked her to the couch and she sank down in a heap.
"Would you like something to drink?"
"Can you make me some hot tea? I'm so cold."
"Do you take anything in it?"
"Cream and sugar, please."
"Coming right up. You just relax and I'll be right back."
As Walleye Joe fixed the tea, a knock on the door interrupted him. He opened it to a policeman holding his badge in the air.
"We were called by the manager of the hotel about an attempted carjacking. I'm Detective Sam Moon with the Dallas Police."
Walleye Joe opened the door to allow the officer entry. “I am Joe Holek. I'm staying here at the hotel as a guest speaker for the fishing conference. This is Claire O'Malley who escorted me to the banquet tonight. Please have a seat. I'm in the process of making some tea for Claire. She's pretty shaken up. Would you care for some tea?"
"No, thanks. I just had my last jolt of coffee for the night.” Officer Moon took out his pen and pad. “Ms. O'Malley, I know this is going to be difficult for you, but we need to get as much detail as we can from you now, while what happened is fresh in your mind. When did you become aware that the intruder was in your car?"
