by Vivi Anna
The woman grinned. “Of course.”
I slipped out my Visa and gave it to the woman. She smiled and pushed a form toward me.
“If you could just fill this out.”
I grabbed a pen and started to fill out the information. I wrote down Yvette Laurent for my name before realizing my credit card said Makayla Bradley. I looked up at the woman who was busy processing my credit transaction.
“Um, the name on the card is different from this one.”
“Honey, we’re all using different names here.”
I turned to the ‘woman’ standing next to me—a five-foot-eleven blonde bombshell with an adam’s apple.
The woman at the table handed back my card and my conference pass. “Enjoy.”
I nodded and scurried into the center. I made a run for the meeting room and was able to grab a seat at the front. As I settled in my seat, I noticed that my heart beat quicker, and my palms were sweaty. I felt very nervous for some reason. The thought of seeing Jonathan up front and on the stage directly in front of me made me very anxious. Or it could’ve been the thought of sitting here for eight hours without leaving which would’ve been the case if I wanted this seat by the time Jonathan came on.
Before I could make a decision on whether to stay or go, the blond bombshell sat down beside me, a smile so wide on his face I thought it would split his chiseled face in half.
“Honey, you looked like a drag queen running for a shoe sale, you got here so fast.”
“I know. It’s my first conference. I’m just really excited.”
He stuck out his well-manicured hand. “Lady Gwendolyn.”
“Yvette Laurent.”
“Stick with me darling, and I’ll get you into the best events.”
I smiled. I liked this man with the long blond wig, sparkly eyelashes, and three inch siren red heels. “Okay, but I have to be back in this room in this exact chair at eight o’clock.”
“Deal.”
For the next few hours, Gwendolyn gave me the tour of the conference, regaling me with several stories of conferences past. This was his fourth one, so he knew a lot of people, and a lot about each of the panelists. Between panels we snuck out for a drink, then true to his word, he had me back in the same chair in the same room for Jonathan’s talk.
I sat anxiously on the edge of my seat waiting impatiently for Jonathan’s appearance. As he was introduced, I thought I was going to hyperventilate. It was taking too long. Hurry up, stupid announcer, I thought. Bring on the main event.
Jonathan stepped out on the stage with style and confidence. I thought I heard a collective sigh from the predominantly female audience as he spoke assuredly into the microphone.
“Good evening.” His gaze swept the crowd making warm contact with his audience, until it rested securely on me. He smiled.
I felt my nipples instantly tighten into little hard buds. As he continued to speak, I felt he was talking directly to me. Flutters of lust brushed at my sex. When he was done, I looked around at the audience and knew by the flush on their faces that they also felt the flutters. Oh, he was good. Too damn good.
After his speech, I rushed outside to get some needed fresh air. I stood by a little clumping of bushes and spoke into my voice recorder.
“What was he up to? Opening a publishing house was a bold but possibly brilliant venture. It was risky endeavor to compete with the American market.”
“Hello.”
I jumped and fumbled the recorder. It dropped to the sidewalk. I knelt down to retrieve it, but Jonathan had it picked up before I could reach for it. He placed it in my outstretched hand.
“Do I make you nervous?” There was a devious flash in his eyes.
“Not likely.” I dropped the recorder into my purse.
“I’m sorry I left you without a word and with a pathetic excuse for a note.”
I would not soften. I would not give in. Raising my chin, I feigned a look of boredom. “No matter. I’m far from over it.”
“Let me make it up to you. Meet with me later.”
“No need, Jonathan, really.” I looked down at my nails, pretending to examine a chip in one.
He watched me with keen interest. “I dare you to meet me later.”
My head snapped up toward him, my eyes flashing. “Excuse me?”
He took a step toward me, exuding confidence. I could feel his heat pressing against me, caressing me. His scent penetrated my senses and weakened my knees. Dear Lord, the man was like aerosol heroin.
“I dare you to meet me later. I guarantee you’ll be thanking yourself if you do.”
Oh, the arrogant bastard. But damn, he knew just what button to push.
“I’ll take that dare, and I guarantee you’ll be thanking me as well.”
He grinned, dimples winking playfully. “I have no doubt.” He offered his hand.
I took it cautiously. He turned it and brought it up to his mouth. Pressing his lips to the back, he scraped his teeth (fangs? I swore his canines were a bit long) against my knuckles, sending electrifying shivers up my arm and over my entire body. He peered up at me through dark hooded lashes.
“Shall we say, same place, eleven o’clock?”
“Okay,” I managed to squeak.
Jonathan released my hand, grinned, and turned on his heel.
Dumbfounded, I watched him walk back to the conference hall, my hand cradled against my breast. Little tremors of delight surged through my body and rooted deeply between my legs. Oh, the man was too much. I was definitely no match for his disarming charms. I could not win this game.
Jonathan reached the center doors but turned around briefly to look at me.
Or maybe? I smiled. Just maybe I had his number. Win or lose, I would go down trying. And hopefully, so would he.
“That man is one tasty piece of eye candy.”
I jumped and turned around to see Gwendolyn smiling at me.
“Jonathan Devane is one hot piece of work.”
“Do you think so?” But I couldn’t help the smile that blossomed on my face.
Gwendolyn opened his red leather purse and took out a pack of cigarettes. He slid one in his mouth and lit it before offering one to me. “You look like you could use one.”
I chuckled but shook my head. “I don’t smoke.”
“Are you entering a piece into the reading tomorrow?”
“Ah, what?”
“Are you reading one of your stories tomorrow? I am. It’s going to be wicked fun.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You should. I bet you could come up with something hot to write about.” He winked.
I couldn’t help but smile. In the back of my mind, I thought of Jonathan listening to me read a sexy story. Something I had written just for him. A hot ball of lust gathered deep between my legs.
“Yeah, maybe I will.”
Chapter Seven
Lounging on the king-sized bed, I finished tapping out the last sentence of my short erotic story on my laptop as I cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder. Serena was currently giving me the second lecture of the night.
“Mak, give this up. You’re going too far this time.”
I could hear the irritation in her voice and knew she was most likely pacing back and forth in the apartment. Serena did that when she was angry.
“Serena, on my honor, I can tell you I haven’t done anything that goes beyond journalistic ethics.”
“Not yet anyway.” Serena sighed. “And besides, you have no honor.”
I put aside my laptop and reclined onto the fluffy pillows. “I do, too. Sort of.”
“Why this vendetta, Mak? I’ve never seen you so determined to do a story.”
“It’s not a vendetta. It’s a story that could take me out of the shit pile and into a gold mine.”
“There are lots of stories out there that could do that. You’re a good writer. Why waste yourself trashing people? And especially Jonathan Devane. What really happened that ni
ght in Toronto?”
I glanced over at the slinky red dress I was going to wear to meet Jonathan and sighed. “He snubbed me, Serena. We were going at it, and then he pushed away from me as if he was embarrassed to have been caught with the likes of me.” I looked away from the dress and glanced up at the ceiling, blinking back the humiliation I still felt. “He’s a pompous egotistical prick, and he deserves to be taught a lesson.”
“And you’re just the girl for that?”
“Damn straight I am. By the time I’m done, he’ll be more than humiliated.” I closed my eyes against the hard lump I felt form in my throat. My stomach hurt and I felt sick.
Opening my eyes, I tried to shrug off the feeling. Must have been all the little chocolate penises I ate earlier. Beatrice had sent me a few extra boxes. Damn things were addicting. At least I hoped that’s what it was, and not guilt swirling around in my gut.
Serena sighed loudly. I imagined she was shaking her head. “Just be careful, Mak. When you play with fire, you get burned.”
I sat up on the bed. “Yeah, yeah. If that’s not the most overused analogy.”
“It’s overused because it’s true.”
“Okay, duly noted. Thank you for clearing that up. Anything else I should be worried about?”
“Yeah, Jasmine’s been snooping around the offices.”
I popped off the bed. “You didn’t tell her where I was, did you?”
“Of course not. Although I should sic her on you so you’ll stop this hare-brained scheme.”
“But you won’t. Because deep down inside, you love me, Serena. I know you do.”
Serena chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose. But I can’t guarantee that everyone will keep their yap shut.”
“Carmen would never tell. She hates that woman more than I do.”
“Yeah, but Jasmine’s been waving around free two-day spa passes. You know how Carmen is a sucker for a great exfoliant.”
“I’m not worried,” I said as I gnawed on the side of my finger.
“You should be.”
After I hung up the phone, I paced around the hotel room. I was nervous because of the possibility of Jasmine’s arrival. Or, was it because I was dressing for sex when I had no intention of it ever happening. No sex. I’d made myself a bargain. And no amount of butterflies in my belly or pulsing aches in between my thighs was going to jeopardize that.
Wandering into the bathroom, I stared hard at myself in the mirror. I fluffed out my hair and pursed my lips. I knew what I was doing. With that I nodded to myself and continued to get ready for my date...er meeting with Jonathan.
I strode back into the room and stared at the sexy red dress, matching red tanga bikini, and crotchless nylons, I had lain out on the bed. I fingered the flirty lace on the panties. I was wearing them because they made me feel good. Not because they would make Jonathan drool. If everything went as planned, Jonathan would never see them.
I frowned and picked up the panties. Except these were just too damn nice not to see. I tossed them back on the bed. Okay, if he happened to see them, just by chance, that would be all right. No harm done. Right?
I screamed with frustration and fell back on the bed into the clothes. I wrapped the dress around me, rolled back, and forth with my eyes squeezed shut. Damn it all. I would just get dressed and see what happened. I was never any good at sticking to plans anyway. Whatever happened happened. I would just deal with the consequences later. That was my specialty.
Later, after primping, preening, and a generous slathering of coconut body butter, I entered the hotel bar at ten minutes after eleven. I purposely restrained myself from arriving on time or early for that matter. I didn’t want to look eager. Not that I was eager. Just apprehensive about my new plan of having no plan. Anything could happen, and that made me very nervous.
I glanced around the bar. Jonathan was seated at a corner table with two other men I didn’t recognize. He looked up at me. The moment his gaze met mine, my knees nearly gave out. His eyes traveled down my body and I knew I had chosen the right outfit for the evening.
The dress was halter style, dipping low in the front and clinging sinuously to my naked breasts. I had considered wearing my plastic nipples just like the ones Samantha of Sex and the City wore in one of the episodes but decided against it. Too over the top.
As Jonathan’s gaze caressed me, my nipples hardened into tight buds. I didn’t need any stinking plastic nipples, mine were doing fine all by themselves. I discreetly glanced down at my breasts and noticed twin peaks jutting out from the clinging fabric of my dress. Nope, those plastic nubs had nothing on me.
I made my way over to the bar. I slid onto a stool and crossed my legs slowly, showing off the long elegant line and the promise of a prize at the top. Of course, the effect would have been better if my legs had been longer. But by the appreciative glance I got from the bartender, I figured I was doing all right with the stems nature had given me.
I ordered a peach Bellini and settled in to wait for Jonathan to come to me.
A half-hour and two Bellinis later, I wondered if the man was standing me up again. I refused to look behind me. Refused to look and act like a desperate woman in need of some attention from a gorgeous male specimen. But his waiting was killing me and pissing me off.
Again, the man managed to get the best of me. I was going to finish my drink and leave. Maybe even go up to my room, pack my bags, and call it a day. I could write my killer story from the comforts and security of my little downtown apartment. With no delicious smelling, intoxicating man to agonize over.
I stiffened when I felt a hand touch my exposed lower back. The touch was gentle but intimate, and I felt the zings go straight to my crotch. Wet heat pooled between my legs. I nearly groaned as an ache so intense clutched at my insides.
“Sorry I kept you waiting.”
I turned to the deep arousing voice and arched an eyebrow. “I was beginning to think you were ignoring me.”
He took my hand in his and brought it up to his mouth. He pressed his lush lips to the back, his eyes glued to mine. “You’re absolutely impossible to ignore.”
I had the urge to lean forward and gobble up his edible mouth. It was just begging me to nibble at the plump flesh. I pressed my lips together and tried to rein in the insatiable craving. The man should come with a warning label. Warning! Do not look, smell, or touch. Hazardous to your libido.
Soft music erupted from the speakers situated around the small dance floor in the bar. A few couples stood up and went to dance. I tore my gaze away from Jonathan and glanced casually at them. I didn’t want him to read the desperate desire for him in my eyes
Jonathan still kept my hand in his. “Care to dance?”
My head snapped back to him. I swallowed and hoped it was not audible.
“You’re not afraid are you?”
“No. I’ll dance with you.” I slid off the stool.
Jonathan put his arm around me, settling it lightly at my back, barely touching as he led me to the floor. I could feel my body quiver and hoped he didn’t notice, but by the small smile on his face, I knew my hopes were lost.
“You need to stop daring me into things.”
“Why? It works so well.”
I glanced up at him and caught his playful grin.
When we reached a small spot on the floor, Jonathan took my hand again and pulled me into a waltz. He moved fluidly across the floor leading me with practiced ease and poise. I could feel the heat of his hand at my back and hoped I didn’t sweat too much. I looked up at him under my lashes.
“You dance...well.”
“Ballroom lessons. My mother made me take them when I was a boy.”
“Really? Interesting.”
He shook his head. “I actually wanted to box. She let me after I took the dance lessons. She said a man should know how to dance and fight. Made him well-rounded.”
I chuckled. “I’ve done some research on you, Mr. Devane.”
“Really?�
�� “Yes, I googled you.”
His eyebrow arched in amusement. “Googled? Well there’s a first time for everything.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s not the first time you’ve been...examined.”
He chuckled. “No, not the first.” He spun me around and dipped me. His eyes bore into me. “And what did you learn?”
“Well, you’re a very successful businessman. One of the richest men in the country. Have had a long line of women strung around your finger. And you’ve ruthlessly snatched Devane Communications away from your father.”
I said it with a smile, but I could feel him stiffen the minute the words were out of my mouth. He spun me around again but did not pull me in close like before. He looked down at me, a smile still on his face, but I could see it did not quite reach his eyes. I wondered if I’d gone too far too soon.
“Hmm, yes I imagine it does say all of that in the media. They have a way of slanting things to their liking. Ratings, you know.”
“Funny, coming from a man that owns two television stations, a radio station, and a movie studio.”
He peered down at me, curiosity furrowing his brow. “Yes, I suppose, but my station runs mostly children’s programs with an occasional documentary thrown in. Most of the places you find distorted information about me are in tabloids and cheesy entertainment magazines.”
I could hear an edge to his voice. I decided to end that piece of conversation. I didn’t want him angry with me. Not yet anyway.
“I noticed you’ve never done an interview before. Why is that?” Okay, I couldn’t just stop. Just wasn’t natural.
“Same reason. Distortion of facts. I wouldn’t want my words turned and twisted.”
“Not all reporters do that.”
“Yes, they do.”
“I wouldn’t.” I flinched, and my feet stumbled as I stepped on his foot.
He looked down at me, his eyes flashing a dark blue.
“I mean I wouldn’t if I was a reporter.”
“Well, I guess not everyone has your ethics. Your honesty.” His gaze was penetrating, and I had to look away. I glanced down at our feet.
