Feint and Misdirection

by Helena Maeve

  “After that, no wonder,” Jaime drawled. “Let me see what I can whip up.”

  “I can help,” Russ started, but Imogen slapped a hand against his chest, stopping him short.

  “You’re supposed to let him do it. It’s called aftercare,” she said, belligerence leaching out of her as the thought of Megan Luz was replaced with the more immediate sight of her half-naked lovers.

  Jaime narrowed his eyes, but the glare was short-lived, ineffectual. “I also fancy myself something of a good host. Speaking of which, there’s a perfectly good king-sized bed upstairs…”

  “It really is good,” Imogen confirmed blithely. “I’ve tested it.”

  Something unreadable hovered in Russell’s expression for a long moment. “Then we’d better head upstairs.”

  He stood, a hulking colossus of a man, and held out his hand. Imogen took it gratefully, not expecting him to sweep her up into his arms like something straight out of a wedding album. She yelped.

  “Sure you don’t need a hand?” Russ asked, barely straining to hold her up.

  Jaime shook his head. “I’ll be right up.”

  “I can’t believe you’re okay with this!” Imogen shouted, mock-outraged and kicking lazily at the air. “Put me down!”

  “Don’t,” Jaime called over his shoulder, disappearing into the kitchen. “Floor’s cold.”

  Imogen huffed. “You’re both evil.” But evil or not, they were hers—lovers, boyfriends, whatever they were, she wasn’t giving them up.

  For once, it was easy to quit fighting and let someone else take the lead. She knew she was in good hands.

  Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:

  A Touch of Spice

  Helena Maeve

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  Jackie drummed her fingertips against the chipped Formica table. She was determined not to check her watch again—the hands only seemed to move slower if she did and really, she had no business being impatient. She’d known she would be a little early the moment she’d left work. Poor impulse control was to blame—that and a tendency to second-guess her every move for fear of the consequences. Nerves had plagued her all day. It was why she had made her excuses an hour before the end of schedule and pleaded a migraine to get out of carpooling with Clara, the PA down the hall who dropped her off now and again. It wouldn’t be the case tonight.

  A cab had ferried her over to the coffee shop in all anonymity about a good half-hour before Jackie was scheduled to meet anyone. At first it had seemed like a good idea. The place was mostly empty, with students still in class and worker bees like herself still stuck inside their offices. She’d figured that would make it easier to pick Tony out of the masses when he finally made it there. Then patrons began filing in, chased off the streets by the smattering of bitterly cold rain dripping down in a thin sheet over Rotterdam.

  Twenty minutes later, the café was packed, countless umbrellas crowding the far corner of the shop and orders being called out every thirty seconds or so by harried baristas. Jackie leaned her head against the glass. It did nothing to cool her nerves.

  “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” The voice was definitely male and definitely urbane. It also spoke Dutch with a strong accent—not unusual considering that this was a pretty touristy area. Jackie herself had no room to criticise. As an expat, she was here at the mercy of the locals who often caught onto her American brogue and switched to speaking her own language out of kindness.

  She glanced up. “Yes. I mean, not yet. But it will be,” Jackie said, grimacing. “I’m waiting for someone.”

  “Let me guess,” the man said, in English. He bent a little at the waist as he added in a stage whisper, “Your man is a porn star.”

  Jackie’s jaw didn’t drop, but it was a close call. “You’re Tony Marling? Oh, thank God.”

  “I know, I know… I look different with my clothes on!” The man laughed gaily, though he sounded a little strained. “Hang on, I’m going to grab something to drink and I’ll be right with you.”

  He did look different in person, but Jackie would have blamed the discrepancy on the fact that he’d grown a beard since the last recording on his website rather than the crisp polo shirt and aviator jacket. She flushed a little as he returned, armed with a steaming cup of boiled water and a teabag propped tellingly against the side.

  “You’ll forgive me for being disgustingly British, won’t you?” Tony asked. “I converted to Rooibos, but I still can’t stomach coffee.” He was a good-looking man, there was no doubt about that. His blue eyes crinkled when he smiled and his lashes fanned long over his cheeks as he perched at the table. But Jackie had contacted him expecting some kind of stylised sex god. This version of Tony Marling was almost, well, human.

  “I’m a caffeine addict,” she heard herself mumble. “It’s genetic. Turns out that if your ancestors go and drown all the British tea in a harbour about a hundred years ago, you get to wake up at three in the morning craving a latte…”

  Tony chuckled as he dunked his teabag into the cup. His gestures were very fluid, almost absentminded. There was none of that tense, tight-laced struggle of some of the videos Jackie had seen of him on the Internet.

  “So, uh… How did you recognise me?”

  “I’m sorry?” Tony glanced up from the precious alchemy of preparing his tea. “Oh, I looked for the girl wishing she hadn’t been able to make our rendezvous.” His broad grin gave him away. So did his laugh. “You’re hogging a table and you’re the only one here alone and dry,” he explained. “It was a gamble.”

  “Pretty big risk, opening with ‘I’m a porn star’,” Jackie quipped, sure that her cheeks were aflame by now. “A girl might call that harassment…”

  “A girl might,” Tony agreed, “but I was only inferring that about her date. Plus, there’s nothing wrong with being a porn star. I’m living proof.”

  The easy way he said it had Jackie feeling like a complete and total prude. She liked to think she was adventurous in her sex life and non-judgemental when it came to other people’s bedrooms. Still, making an appointment with a guy who recorded himself having hard-core kinky sex was a far cry from paying lip service to the all-inclusive mantra she’d been spewing since college—particularly since she wasn’t meeting with Tony for the hell of it. She had ulterior motives.

  “I figured,” Tony said when she had told him as much. The corner of his lips twitched up. “Thank you for choosing a public place, by the way. I probably wouldn’t have agreed to meet you on a deserted underpass, even if it meant more privacy.” He hitched up one shoulder. “No offence.”

  None was taken. Jackie was actually a little relieved to hear his rationale. She wasn’t the only one out of her depth here. Good to know. “I don’t really know how to start,” she confessed. “It’s my boyfriend—”

  “You want him killed?” Tony interjected, completely deadpan.

  Jackie’s eyes widened. “What?” A couple of heads turned at the outburst, but there was just enough noise in the café that no one paid them much attention. “No! God, no, that’s not—”

  Tony reached across the table to pat her hand, a friendly, harmless gesture. “Relax, I’m kidding. You’re really tense, you know that? I’m regretting not getting us a shot of something stronger than coffee. Besides,” he added, winking, “I’m only a contract killer on Tuesdays.”

  It was only going to be harder to spit out her point if he kept making jokes, so Jackie gathered her courage with both hands and blurted out, “My boyfriend’s birthday’s coming up and I want to surprise him with a threesome.”

  “Come again? Slowly?”

  A shuddering breath expired from her lungs. “I want to surprise my boyfriend,” Jackie said, “by setting up a threesome. He’s talked about it before and I know he likes the idea, so…” She shrugged her shoulders. “I want to do something special for him. It’s his thirtieth.”

  “You hinted at something like that in your email,”
Tony recalled. “I just thought you were testing the waters before you tried to save me from my sins.” He waved a hand, as if that could be enough to dispel her surprise. “That happens sometimes, don’t worry about it. I’m usually flattered when people contact me, whatever the reason—unless it’s spambots sending me those ridiculous penis enlargement emails. Those actually offend me.”

  “Right,” Jackie echoed, not entirely sure what to make of his answer. It wasn’t a categorical no and Tony hadn’t thrown his tea in her face—then again, maybe that was a thing that only happened in movies—but he didn’t look like he was chomping at the bit to take her up on the offer.

  She watched him pluck the teabag out of his cup and set it aside, each painstaking movement suddenly a drag of claws on her fraying nerves.

  “I’m a little socially awkward,” Tony said, swallowing. “Don’t let that put you off.”

  “It’s not.”

  “And I’m also not an escort, so—”

  “Oh, God,” Jackie groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I didn’t mean to imply that you were. I’m so sorry—”

  Tony grasped one of her wrists, his hold very gentle. “Hey, no. I was just going to say I don’t want you to, you know, pay me.” He tried to peer at her through her fingers—a hard thing to do when she was so intent on hiding.

  Eventually Jackie relented, her face burning with embarrassment and the certitude that sooner or later she was going to put her foot into her mouth once again. She should have just tried to pick up a guy at the club, like normal people did, only she hadn’t felt safe and she’d been afraid that Marten would take it the wrong way—so she had opted for email instead, and now Tony sat across from her, smiling behind his steaming cup.

  “You okay?” he asked, withdrawing to his side of the table. “Let’s try this again, yeah? Your boyfriend wants to see you with another bloke and you, being lovely and totally smitten, thought to make that fantasy come true on his birthday. What date are we talking about here? I have to check my calendar…”

  Jackie bit her lip. “This Saturday?”

  “Oh, that’s all right. I’m available Saturday,” Tony announced brightly. “How did you want to do it? I should warn you, I’m not jumping out of any birthday cakes.” He tapped his chest with an open palm, adding, “I’m claustrophobic.”

  “I thought you could just…be in the bedroom with me when he got home.” In her head, the tableau drew itself in far sultrier tones than anything that came out of her mouth. “He likes it a little rough. Do you mind that?”

  Tony shook his head. “You’ve seen my films, haven’t you? I’m good with anything short of actual bodily harm. But we can talk limits in a moment. I’m curious to hear what you want to have happen, love. Sure, it’s your boy’s birthday, but you’ll be with another man. Does that make you uncomfortable at all?”

  It did, but mostly it was making her feel excited. Just the thought of Marten watching as she took another man’s cock inside her had her squirming a little in her seat. She told Tony that she’d be fine.

  “And he’s okay with that, too?”

  Jackie arched a brow.

  He went on, “Some lads like the idea of seeing their wives or girlfriends with someone else, but come the actual screwing and they get antsy. Like roosters pecking at the competition, if you know what I mean.” His shoulders sagged. “What I’m saying is this—you’d have a lousy time of it if it turned out your boy’s the sort to get jealous easily.”

  “I-I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Jackie stammered, sure she was blushing all the way up to her ears.

  “Why’s that?”

  She looked up to find that Tony was peering at her over his cup, steam rising in soft, fragrant eddies that faded into the cacophony of patrons chattering indifferently around them.

  “Because my boyfriend is bisexual.” She had never said that to anyone before—not to her best friend or her sister, not to her gynaecologist, with whom she discussed her sex life at least once a year.

  “Oh,” Tony drawled. “Okay. I can work with that.” If he was taken aback, then he did a brilliant job of hiding it—a consummate actor, whether or not there was a camera waiting to catch the flicker of tension across his face.

  He sipped his tea as Jackie told him the rest. She had been meaning to try something like this for a while. “Couldn‘t really find anyone among our friends I felt comfortable enough with to invite into bed, I guess. As for approaching a complete stranger… I worry it might get me laughed at. Or…worse.” She arched her brows. “And then there‘s that niggling fear that if I pick the wrong partner, I‘ll have ruined a good relationship.”

  Even if Marten wasn’t the jealous type, he himself had only brought up the subject when they were intimate together, often in the heat of the moment. He said it was just a fantasy, but Jackie wondered if he wasn’t simply denying himself for her sake.

  “Then how about we do this?” Tony countered, gazing at her through his lashes. “You take him out for dinner on Saturday and I can be in the neighbourhood—say, around ten?——when you’re done. If he’s up for it, you give me a call and I’ll come up. If he’s not sure or if you’ve changed your mind, then… No hard feelings.”

  “Really?”

  Tony shrugged. “Yeah. I saw the pic you’ve got in your email signature. You look like a nice couple. I don’t want to be the guy who breaks you up.”

  It was that escape route that convinced Jackie. “Okay.” They exchanged phone numbers and Jackie texted him her address, with Tony solemnly promising he wouldn’t stalk her if she didn’t call, and parted ways about an hour later. The drizzling rain had stopped by the time Jackie got off the bus just outside her apartment building. She had to admit she felt a little better after talking to Tony. He seemed decent, like the kind of guy she could stand to be friends with, even if this plan of theirs fell through. She found herself hoping that the feeling was mutual as she roused her smartphone and typed him a quick message.

  Thx for meeting with me. Have a GR8 evening. Jackie.

  “You sound way too much like a smitten teenager,” she told herself, backspacing until everything was deleted. She went with a more conservative—

  Thank you for the talk & wish you a great evening

  Signed with her full name rather than the careless, overly friendly nickname.

  A reply chirped from her cell just as she was about to jump into the shower.

  My pleasure, lovely, Enjoy the birthday boy.

  It was signed Anthony, like the Roman general, and Jackie fancied she could see him grinning as he had typed it out.

  Order your copy here

  About the Author

  Helena Maeve has always been globe trotter with a fondness for adventure, but only recently has she started putting to paper the many stories she’s collected in her excursions. When she isn’t writing erotic romance novels, she can usually be found in an airport or on a plane, furiously penning in her trusty little notebook.

  Email: helenamaeve@outlook.com

  Helena loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totallybound.com.

  Also by Helena Maeve

  A Touch of Spice

  Courting Treason

  Collision Course

  Misfit Hearts

  Eden’s Embers

  Flight Made Easy

  In the Presence of Mine Enemy

  Fault Lines

  Totally Bound Publishing

 

 

 
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