by Vivi Anna
“Enjoyed the show, boys?” An eyebrow arched sexily, I stared at Jonathan as I spoke.
“Definitely,” David answered, his head bobbing up and down.
I looked David up and down and smirked. Turning on my heel, I sashayed toward the elevators. Damn, I was having fun. Giggles nearly spilled out of me. As I pressed the elevator button, the door opened, and I got in. While the doors were closing, I looked up and noticed that Jonathan still watched me. His gaze sent a delicious shiver up my back. The man was lethal.
My room was on the fourth floor. I assumed Jonathan was staying on the seventh floor in the penthouse. Quaint and stylish, my room reminded me of country living. It even had a little table and a coffee maker.
After tossing my purse on the bed, I jumped on the complimentary basket waiting on the dressing table. I picked up the little note card, Compliments of the Hot and Spicy Writer’s Association. I set the card down and dug into the basket.
There were two plums and a banana arranged in an interesting way and a box of chocolates. I sighed and unwrapped the box. Chocolate, my life preserver. As I lifted up the lid, I burst into giggles.
Inside were four delicately made chocolates, molded into anatomically detailed penises, balls attached. I picked one up and marveled at it. Whoever made these was a stickler for detail.
I bit the tip off and wondered what I had gotten myself into. I supposed I should have researched a little about what kind of conference I agreed to attend. Oh well, didn’t matter. I wasn’t really going anyway.
Popping the rest of the chocolate into my mouth, I collapsed back onto the bed. I needed my rest before starting phase one of my assignment: Locate the target and tickle his fancy.
Chapter Five
After a long luxurious bath in the clawfoot tub, a slathering of cocoa butter and strategically placed perfume, I sashayed into the hotel’s bar with a mission. I wore black leather pants with fashionably enhanced hips and a low cut sweater twin set that displayed more fashionably enhanced products like the triple click cleavage bra. God bless Victoria’s Secret.
I quickly scanned the crowd but didn’t see Jonathan. I didn’t know if he’d be in the place, but I had to start somewhere. I took a stool at the bar and ordered a Pink Lady. As I took a sip, I stared at myself in the facing mirrored wall behind the counter. I ran a hand through my hair and fluffed it up. After trailing my tongue over my plump painted lips, I winked at myself. No man could resist me. I was a temptress, a seductress. An old star harlot like Brigitte Bardot. Jonathan didn’t have a chance.
But what then? I’d entice him, flirt with him, ply him with drinks, and then what? I didn’t have a clue. I obviously didn’t think that far ahead. Would I actually step over the line of journalist ethics—yes, I had a line—and sleep with him for a story?
The moment I spotted Jonathan in the mirror as he walked into the bar and sat down at a table, all the blood rushed from my head down to my crotch. He looked absolutely edible in his soft blue chambray shirt and tan Chinos. His hair was parted and slick to the side. It still looked wet as if he had just stepped out of the shower.
I swallowed the saliva pooling in my mouth as I thought of him just stepping out of the stall, his body slick and wet, the fresh scent of soap on his hard flesh, and a sexy playful grin on his chiseled face.
Little quivers of desire rushed over my thighs and there was a quickening of things in between. Yes, I might just cross that line.
Taking another sip of my drink, I tried to compose myself. I was a professional and this was my assignment. Jonathan Devane was just a story and nothing more. I’m not sure why I was feeling so anxious about him, so unnerved. He was just a man and not anything out of the ordinary.
After flipping back my hair, I swung around on the barstool, crossing my legs seductively as I did. I pretended to scan the crowd, a look of boredom etched on my face. At least, I hoped it was boredom and not pent-up sexual frustration.
It was getting more and more difficult to rein in my lust with Jonathan so near. He was like a pheromone nuclear bomb. No one within a twenty-mile radius was safe from the hormonal fall-out.
As my gaze moved over his table, I was caught in his piercing blue laser sighting. My heart skipped a beat as a smile slowly spread across his perfectly structured face. Those damn dimples winked at me again. I licked my lips, afraid that drool had escaped past them. His smile broadened as he probably thought my tongue made an appearance just for him. So what if he was right.
I breathed deeply and pulled away from his entrancing stare to return my gaze safely back to my drink. I took another sip and turned back on my stool. Contact made. Now I would wait and see if he answered the call.
I finished my drink and was about to order another when a fresh Pink Lady arrived unexpectedly in front of me. I glanced up at the bartender. He smiled.
“From the gentleman at the table behind you.”
I raised my gaze to the mirror and caught Jonathan’s eyes. His head was titled mischievously, his eyebrow arched in interest. He raised his glass in salute. I didn’t return the toast. I grabbed a passing waitress and set the drink onto my tray.
“Could you please tell that man, that I can’t possibly accept this unless I know the motivation behind it? I’m not some floozy he can pay for with one drink.” I slid a ten-dollar bill onto the tray beside the drink. The server grinned and went over to Jonathan’s table.
I watched in the mirror as the waitress set the drink down in front of Jonathan, bent down, and repeated what I had said. I watched his face go from surprised to amusement. He nodded to the server, and she wandered away to fill more orders.
I wasn’t sure what Jonathan was going to do. But I was clearly not ready when he picked up the drink and walked over to where I sat at the bar. My heart sped like a car at the Indy 500 as he moved closer. I had to swallow down the little gasp as he slid in next to me and set the drink down at my elbow.
“Good evening.”
I had to clear my throat before I could speak. His rich male scent floated over me like a euphoric fog. The man smelled so good, I wanted to lick him all over his neck and face like an ice-cream cone.
I glanced at him casually, pretending disinterest, but not too much. I didn’t want him to give up the chase. “Yes, it is.”
“I wanted to apologize for earlier today.”
I turned to my side, facing him. “For staring at my ass?”
“No, that I can’t apologize for. But for acting like an idiot about it, I can.”
I smiled despite myself. He was a charming son-of-a-bitch no doubt about that. “I accept your apology and the drink.” I took a sip from the little straw. “I was getting thirsty waiting for you to come over.”
“I didn’t think it took me that long.”
“Longer than I’m used to waiting.” I slid my tongue out as I sipped on the straw again.
He arched an elegant dark brow. “Do I know you?”
I nearly choked. “No, I think I would remember if we ever met.”
He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing every inch of my face. “Are you sure? You seem very familiar to me.”
I let my hair fall over my eye seductively. “And if you really knew me, you wouldn’t have to ask.”
“Jonathan Devane.” He offered his hand. I took it and shook firmly.
“Yvette Laurent.”
“A French woman. Magnifique! Do you speak fluently?”
I shook my head. Damn, I should’ve seen this coming. He was from down East; everyone spoke French there. “No, I have lost most of it. If you do not use it all the time, it begins to fade.”
“Say something to me.”
“Vous avez un bout stupefiant.” You have an amazing butt. That was one phrase I had memorized in French class because my teacher was definitely President of the Amazing Butt Club, or ABC as I and my friends liked to call it.
Jonathan grinned. “Et vous aussi.” And you, too.
I blushed and looked down at my drin
k.
“I like when you do that.”
I glanced up at him. He was studying me. I felt open and vulnerable to his scrutiny. This was not going as planned. “Do what?”
“Blush.”
I sat up straight and fanned myself with my hand. “Is it getting hot in here?”
“You could say that, Yvette.” He brushed his finger over my knuckles.
My head snapped up, and I met his gaze. His touch had sent electrifying shocks of pleasure searing up my arm. They traveled swiftly and efficiently, settling into my bra and twisting their treacherous arrows around my nipples. A moan nearly escaped my lips before I clamped down on my tongue and bit it sharply.
“Where are you from? Toronto perhaps.”
“Ah, Vancouver. You?”
“Toronto. Ireland originally. But it’s beginning to look quite nice here in the west.”
I just nodded. My voice seemed to be abandoned in my dry throat.
“I need to use the ladies’ room. Will you excuse me?” I said breathlessly, and not to be sexy, but because I couldn’t catch mine. It was stuck between my throbbing breast and my quivering bottom lip.
He nodded as I slid off the stool and sashayed toward the washroom. I felt his gaze on me the entire time. My butt cheeks wanted to clench to avoid his heated stare. I walked slowly careful not to buckle. My knees were so weak and wobbly I felt like I had more than one drink.
I made it safely to the bathroom. Thankfully, it was empty as I splashed cold water on my cheeks. Damn, the man was intoxicating. I hadn’t expected such a reaction to him. I knew it would be difficult to resist him and his seductive charms, but this was damn near impossible. No man had ever affected me the way Jonathan Devane did.
I found myself not wanting to extract his secrets from him, but to jump in his arms and confess of all mine. It was ridiculous. I shook my head. I had to get it together. After smoothing a hand over my pants, I adjusted my sweater. I slipped off the little cardigan and squeezed my breasts together. The front of the sweater was pushed down enough to reveal the tops of my heaving bosom.
I swore under my breath as I stared at the sweep my pale boobs. Damn it, I had a heaving bosom. Why in all that was good and holy was I thinking like a bad (or good?) bodice ripper? I didn’t want to be swept away by this man, did I? For him to take my in his arms and rip away the constricting fabric of my sweater to reveal my...my...heaving bosom.
“Ah!” I squeezed my eyes shut.
There was a soft tap on my shoulder.
I swung around and opened my eyes. An elderly woman with steel gray hair gaped at me with concern, her little purse clutched to her flat chest.
“Are you all right, dear?”
I smiled. “Men.”
The elderly lady just nodded. “I hear you loud and clear. Scream all you want.” She shuffled into one of the toilet stalls.
Turning off the water, I reapplied my lipstick and pushed up my boobs. I would go back in there and seduce the son-of-a-bitch. To hell with ethics, I needed to get him out of my system. And the only way I could possibly see to do this, was to have mind-blowing sex with him. I nodded to myself in the mirror. Time to end the dry spell. It was definitely the only way.
Wasn’t it?
I smoothed down my hair and walked back to the bar. I put a sexy smile on my face. It drooped when I noticed that Jonathan was not where I left him. I climbed onto my stool and glanced around back to his table. Two other people sat at it, drinking and eating something.
I frowned and glanced down at my drink. I noticed the napkin under it with a note written on it. Sorry, business calls. Tomorrow night? Same place? Jonathan.
I crumpled up the napkin into a ball and shoved it into Jonathan’s bottle of beer sitting on the counter. I picked up my drink and gulped down the rest of it. Damn him. I could feel tears sting my eyes. I was slighted again. Business calls. The asshole.
I ordered another drink and swore on the cute little umbrella that came with it that I would not succumb to him again. From now on, I meant business just like he did. The man was no longer a man, but a story. I would not feel anything remotely like morals or sympathy again. This was war. And I was Sun Tzu.
Chapter Six
I hid behind the azalea bush in the front lobby as David stepped off the elevator. According to Jonathan’s itinerary, he didn’t have any meetings or engagements until tonight. So naturally I wondered what David was up to.
I’d gotten up early, dressed in covert gear (denim Capri pants, my Girls Kick Ass t-shirt, and sandals...I needed to be comfortable if I was going to be spying, didn’t I?) and arrived down in the lobby to wait for an opportunity to do some covert operation. Now here was my chance to follow David around and find out what he was up to. Maybe he was doing some corporate takeover stuff for Jonathan. I wouldn’t put it past him.
He was talking with the concierge. I wished I could hear what they were saying. It looked important. Leaning forward, I tipped over into the bush. I quickly reached out and grabbed the branches, but it was too late. I toppled to the ground with the azalea bush spread indecently on top of me.
Everyone in the lobby turned toward the ruckus. The security guard rushed to my aid and helped my up from the ground. I glanced around the lobby. Eyes were glued to me. My gaze rested on David.
He was wide-eyed and smirking ear to ear. He shook his head and put his attention back on the concierge. He dismissed me in an instant. If I hadn’t hated him before, I certainly did now.
After brushing off the stubborn clinging dirt from the pot, I thanked the guard that helped me to my feet. I nodded and smiled at everyone. The concierge rushed over to me, clearly distraught about the situation. I wasn’t sure if it was about me or the azalea plant. By the looks of it, it was definitely done for.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am. Are you all right? Is there anything I can get you?” He hovered around me.
“No, no need. I’m fine. I’m sure the plant didn’t mean to jump me.”
Other patrons laughed at my comment and continued on their business. David smirked again. I reached down, plucked a pink flower from the bush and set it in my hair. Straightening my shoulders, I strode past him.
“Good morning,” I said with a sing-song voice without looking at him.
I could see David bristle in my peripheral. As if I had offended him by wishing him a good morning. I wondered not for the first time, how Jonathan could have a man like that working for him.
“Ms. Laurent?”
I stopped and turned toward the desk clerk with a raised eyebrow.
“The bus will be here in a few minutes.”
“The bus?”
“To take you to the conference,” the clerk informed me.
“Oh right, the conference. Yes, thank you.”
“You’re here for the writer’s conference?”
I turned toward David and his condescending question.
“Yes. Surprised?”
He shook his head. “No. Suits you.”
I glanced out the front lobby windows as the yellow school bus pulled up to the curb. I smiled at him. “So nice talking to you. Got to go.”
“Hello again, dear.”
I looked over and saw the elderly woman from the washroom. I smiled.
“Still having man problems?”
“You could say that.”
“Well maybe something at the conference will help. I hear they’re doing a dominance-submission class this year.”
I turned my attention to the yellow bus in front of me. A big banner, which said Welcome Hot and Spicy Writers of Canada, was draped over the side.
I turned back to the little elderly woman. “You’re with the conference?”
She grinned and patted my arm. “I’m one of the guest speakers.” And with that, she guided me to the bus, and we got on together.
I sulked as I got off the bus in front of the convention center. My plans of following David had been diverted. Now I would have to find a way back to th
e hotel, grab my rented car, and try to track him down.
The little elderly lady, whose named I discovered was Beatrice Waverly, but she wrote under the pen name of Velvet Dream, shuffled up next to me.
“Don’t sulk, dear. You’ll get wrinkles.” She shoved a pamphlet into my hands. “Now here’s the schedule of events. Don’t miss my talk on oral stimulation. If you’re late, you won’t get a seat. I’m very popular.” She patted my arm again and shuffled off toward the center’s front doors.
I chuckled softly and looked down at the pamphlet. I opened it and browsed curiously through the events scheduled. What was on a Hot and Spicy Writer’s agenda?
12 p.m. – Welcome to the world of erotica: guest speaker – Emma Serena
1:30 p.m. – Oral stimulation – guest speaker: Beatrice Waverly
Chuckling, I continued down the schedule, until I came to an unexpected name. Jonathan Devane. This was his evening appearance? I clutched the pamphlet in my hand and hurried toward the convention center. There was still another eight hours until his event, but I wanted to make sure I got a good seat.
There was a line-up to get in. I squeezed in while my mind began to twist and turn in a million different directions.
Why was Jonathan speaking here? Devane Communications didn’t have any interest in publishing. Did they? Was this the big business deal Jonathan was working on?
“Your pass, please.”
I flinched and looked down at the woman sitting at the wooden table parked right in front of the doors to the convention center. I looked behind me at the big line and back to the woman, smiling.
“Um, what do I need?”
“Your conference pass. You have to have one to get in.” The woman with the big hair smiled.
“Oh.” I unzipped my purse and dug into it. I shook my head. “Ah, I think I forgot it.”
“You can buy a new one.”
I took out my wallet. “Okay, how much?”
“Two hundred and fifty.”
I paused, my mouth open. I didn’t have that much cash left. But damn it, I needed to get in there to see Jonathan. I needed to know what he was up to. “Do you accept credit cards?”
