by Jamie Wesley
These were the people who held her future in the palms of their hands.
Wait. What time was it? Val dug her phone out of her bag. It was only one fifteen. They weren’t supposed to arrive until three. What were they doing here so soon? She’d rehearsed for the interview (they’d called it a meet and greet, but she wasn’t born yesterday) excessively, but she’d planned to do a final run-through before they arrived.
Val glanced at Malcolm out of the corner of her eye. Did he recognize them? He was watching them curiously, probably because of their attire, but there was no air of recognition on his face. He started to walk down the stairs.
She grabbed his arm, her heart now beating at triple its normal speed. “Wait.”
He looked down at her. “Why? What’s wrong?”
The woman’s head cocked to the side. “Hi, are you Valerie Shaw?” Her gaze shifted. A hint of surprise entered her tone. “Aren’t you Malcolm Turner?”
“Yes to both questions,” Val said, hating the shakiness in her voice. Showtime was now. Her nerves would have to take a backseat. She moved down the stairs and shook the other woman’s hand.
“Ms. Shaw, I’m Elizabeth Mansfield and this is James Park with the Sex Sells competition.”
The man, who had a well-trimmed red beard, took Val’s proffered hand. “I hope we’re not interrupting. We apologize for arriving so early. It didn’t take as long to get out here as we thought it would.”
Val forced her lips into a smile. “No, of course not. Please call me Val.”
Malcolm moved to shake both their hands. “I’m Malcolm.”
Elizabeth’s gaze shifted between the two of them. “Did you know each other before the competition?”
Malcolm shook his head. “No, I needed a vacation and came here as a camper. We figured out we were both competitors in the contest last night.”
“Not just competitors. Finalists,” Elizabeth said.
Yeah, rub it in, lady. Val put extra effort into making sure her lips didn’t droop. “Yes.”
“We were very impressed with both of your entries. It’s a shame there can only be one winner. We’re looking forward to seeing your final presentations.” She turned to Val. “Is now a good time to talk? We understand if it’s not.”
“Of course.” Time to suck it up and get the job done.
“Great. Malcolm, do you mind if we talk to you as well since we’re here?”
He frowned. “We’re scheduled for a meeting next week at my office with my co-owners.”
“Yes, I know. I’d still love to meet them, but it can’t hurt to talk to you since we’re here. It’s really an informal thing anyway. The final decision will come after we see your presentations in a few weeks.”
Malcolm nodded. “Okay. I’m game if you are.”
Val willed some of the confidence in Malcolm’s voice to make the leap into her body. When her wish went unanswered, she took a deep breath and escorted Elizabeth to the empty dining hall, while Malcolm and James headed to the lake.
Elizabeth glanced around the room which Heather loved to describe as rustic chic with its rough-hewn wooden decor. “What a lovely place and a cool idea. Summer camp for adults.”
Val shrove to keep her nerves under control and out of her voice. “We think so. I’ve enjoyed my time here.”
“What exactly are you doing?”
“I provide nightly entertainment and hold dance classes for campers during the day.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Similar to your proposal.”
“Yes, I thought it would be a good test run.” And she needed the cash, but why reveal all the facts when they weren’t needed?
“I have to tell you I love your idea. It’s so empowering to women. Claiming their sexy as they say.”
“Yes.” Val inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Elizabeth got what she was trying to do. Optimism, that little loudmouth that had seen her through her darkest days, began to wind its way through her, slowing her racing heartbeat.
“I have some news that should make you happy. There were three finalists—you, Malcolm and his family, and one other person. However, we’ve determined that the other finalist’s proposal was stolen from someone else and we had to eliminate him. We haven’t made an official announcement yet, but we saw no reason to keep you in the dark since we were meeting with you anyway. You now have a fifty percent chance of winning.” Elizabeth beamed, clearly expecting Val to respond in kind.
Val tried. She pushed her lips upward. “That’s great.”
It should have been great. It was great. It was also terrifying. She was close to reaching her dream, but oh so far. Yes, Elizabeth had praised her entry, but she must have also loved Malcolm’s. That only made sense. She might not have an Ivy League degree, but she wasn’t stupid. This man, who’d she’d been trying to seduce, was her competition. He stood between her and her dream coming true. How was she going to compete with him?
Oh God. Yes, Elizabeth and James worked at the Sex Sells organization, but they looked like they’d been classmates with Malcolm at Harvard. They would be expecting some slick presentation with fancy charts and projections and all she had was passion. These were the type of people who would respond to facts and figures, not dreams. She’d planned to go with the homey approach. What was she thinking?
She’d worked so hard. What if her best wasn’t good enough? What if she wasn’t good enough? Val’s mind raced harder. What if Malcolm was being nice to her out of pity knowing he had the competition in the bag?
What if, what if, what if?
Val hopped up from her chair. “Do you want some water?”
Elizabeth looked puzzled, but she nodded. “Sure. That would be great.”
Val used the time it took to walk into the kitchen to try to calm her rioting thoughts. She’d come this far. She’d been knocked down in Vegas, but she’d gotten back up again. She always did. No, she didn’t have a fancy degree, but she did have a fantastic idea. Elizabeth had told her it was terrific less than ten minutes ago.
She had to trust herself and be herself. She knew no other way and doing so had gotten her this far.
But what if it wasn’t enough?
SIX
Malcolm finally accepted the truth. Val wasn’t coming out of the lodge. Or, more likely, she’d gone out a different door to avoid him. She’d surprised him by paying him no attention during her performance. She’d made him feel like another face in the crowd. He didn’t like it. There was something between them, something that couldn’t be ignored.
He was worried about her. He’d seen her usual vibrancy wane as soon as the Sex Sells people showed up. Had her interview gone poorly? Was that why she’d disappeared? And why was he so concerned about it? If she’d flubbed the interview, Satisfied would be the beneficiary. A logical position to take, but he couldn’t stand to see her in pain. Which was completely illogical considering he’d known her less than a week, but facts were facts.
Was she avoiding him because they were the final two competitors? He got it. Val and he had been in their own little bubble, but reality had intruded when the Sex Sells judges arrived. The contest wasn’t a game. Something real and valuable was at stake. It had taken him awhile to adjust. After his interview, he’d wandered around the campgrounds trying to get his head back on straight. He’d ended up at the dock Val had taken him to. His first thought when he’d spotted it was he couldn’t wait to come back with her. A thought that had scared the shit out of him. But not more than her walking out of his life.
He refused to let her hide. If she wanted to dump him or do whatever the hell you did when you’d never been on a date with someone, then she’d have to do it in person.
Malcolm headed back to the dock, but she wasn’t there. He checked her dance studio and a few other places, but no dice. That left only one option. Malcolm strode toward her cabin. He climbed the stairs. Faint music filtered out from inside. A flash of movement caught his attention in his peripheral vision. He stepped toward the
window. And stilled.
Val was inside, dancing. Harder and with more purpose than he’d ever seen before. Like the devil was after her. Or like she was trying to forget something.
He’d seen her performing aerial routines and enthralling the campers. He’d gone through a ballroom lesson with her. This was different. She writhed across the floor in movements intended to entice, her movements sharp and precise. A line of sweat trickled between her breasts. The urge to follow that trickle with his tongue threatened to overwhelm him. He didn’t know who her intended audience was, but she could make a dead man hard. And he sure as hell wasn’t dead. His erection pushed against the zipper on his shorts. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He wanted her like he’d never wanted anyone or anything in his life.
Malcolm knocked on the door. When no response was forthcoming, he tried the knob. It turned easily beneath his hand. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Val stood with her back to him. He took the opportunity to watch her uninterrupted. Her ass was high and round enough to make a grown man cry. She thrust her arm out to the side and rolled her hips, another move clearly intended to entice and draw attention to her amazing legs. Her talent was a sight to behold. Her sexiness too. Any man would be lucky to call her his.
She pirouetted and spotted him. Even in her surprise, she didn’t stumble. She was much too graceful for that. She did come to an abrupt stop, her eyes widening. “Malcolm! What are you doing here? How did you get inside?”
“I knocked, but you didn’t answer. I tried the door, and it was unlocked.”
She frowned at the door knob like it had betrayed her trust. He struggled not to laugh.
“What do you want?”
He’d certainly received more enthusiastic greetings in his life, but he refused to be deterred. “To find out why you’re avoiding me.” He gestured for her to continue. “Please, don’t stop on my behalf.”
She growled a warning.
Because he was clearly a masochist, he kept on talking. “That’s certainly a different routine than the one you taught me.”
A dangerous light entered her eyes. “Yes. I’m working on something for one of my classes.” She moved closer. Laid a hand against his chest. Rose on her toes to whisper in his ear. “How would you like to help me out?”
There was no doubt she was setting a trap for him, but he couldn’t stop himself from walking straight into it. “I’d love to.”
“Excellent.” She grabbed a chair and carried it to the center of the room. “This is your last chance to back out.”
Malcolm met her gaze. “Why would I do that?” He sat and took a quick look around. A bed with a red and yellow quilt spread across it caught his eye. A dresser, a table, and two chairs were the only other furniture. Looked like she’d pushed them to the side to give her space to dance.
“To save yourself.”
“I’ll take my chances.” This was some kind of test. Good thing he’d been a straight-A student since pre-K. “Why weren’t you rehearsing in the studio?”
“Because people are more likely to interrupt me there. Only the truly arrogant knock on the door of my private cabin after I’ve made it clear I want to be left alone.”
The sting in her voice didn’t hurt. Not when she spoke the truth. Not when he knew she was doing it to keep him at a distance. He smiled, having no intention of letting her get away with it. “Yes, the truly arrogant are a pain in the ass, aren’t they? What are you working on?”
“Teaching women how to give a proper lap dance.”
Malcolm froze. Shit. Keeping him off balance was clearly one of her priorities in life. But he had to remain even-keeled if he wanted to get some answers and figure out where this thing between them was going. “I see. Is there a lot of demand for that?”
A grin teased her lips. “You’d be surprised. Performing a lap dance might not be something most women want to do in the middle of a club, but in the privacy of their own home with their man or woman watching? Oh, yeah.”
“And you’re only too happy to help them.”
“Got it in one, Harvard. It’s about commanding and owning your sexy. It feels good to be sexy. Women have a hard time embracing the fact. We get called names if we embrace it. It’s bullshit.”
“I don’t disagree.”
Val studied him. “Ever been to a strip club?”
She expected him to say no. The twist of her lips gave her away. “Yes.”
No need for her to know his visits had come as a result of attending a couple of stereotypical bachelor parties.
One eyebrow lifted slightly. “Then you should know the rules. No contact. Your challenge if you choose to accept it is to not touch me unless I give you permission.”
He held up a hand. “Until you give me permission.”
“So sure, are you?”
“Yes.” The heat between them was combustible. It was only a matter of time before the flame burned out of control.
She came to stand between his legs. “Would you care to make a wager?”
His fingers itched to touch her. “What are the terms?”
“If you play dirty or touch me without my permission, I win.”
“What do you win?
Her lips curved. “You go to yoga with me in the morning.”
“If I win?”
Her shoulders lifted. “Whatever you want.”
So confident that he couldn’t make her break? He always succeeded when he put his mind to a task. “Then I accept.”
“Sure of yourself, are you?”
“Yes.” The only way to be with Val. She wouldn’t accept or respect anything else.
She took his hands and placed them palms down on the edges of the seat. “Your hands stay here.”
“Until you tell me to touch you.”
Her eyes flashed. Her dangerous mood hadn’t abated. “We’ll see about that. Remember, I can touch you.”
“But only in the course of the dance.”
She placed a hand over her heart, feigning indignation. “Of course. I don’t cheat.”
“You just play dirty.”
“Guess we’re about to find out.” She moved to her dresser and pressed a button on her iPod. Throbbing music poured out of mini-speakers.
She came to stand in front of him. Her head lolled to the side, her hips swayed to the music, picking up the rhythm of the bass. He’d expected her to get to the lap part of the dance right away. He should have known better. As her hips continued to sway to the music, her hands joined the action, skimming her breasts, her flat stomach, her hips. She moved closer to him, still dancing, but not close enough for him to touch. She spun, putting her back to him. Then she bent forward and rotated her hips. His eyes lands on her perfect ass.
Malcolm ground his teeth together to keep an undignified groan from spilling out. She rotated her hips and faced him again. “Are you okay?”
He forced himself to speak. “Never better.”
“Good to hear.” Val’s lips split in a self-satisfied grin. She knew he was at the edge of his control. Of course she did, damn it. What the hell was he doing? She was the queen, and at the moment, he was nothing more than one of her subjects whose sole purpose was to worship her. He would have to find a way to turn the tables. Somehow. The moment was too important.
She dropped to her hands and knees. He wasn’t fooled by the subservient move. She knew damn well the move put her tempting breasts on near-perfect display as she crawled his way.
“Hi,” she whispered and looked up at him with perfectly innocent eyes. She raised her arms in the air and again began to sway to the music. As he watched, her nipples peaked against the material of her sports bra.
He cleared his Sahara-dry throat. “Is this what you teach your students? Tease until their participant thinks he’s going to lose his mind if she doesn’t touch him soon.”
“Of course.” Her lips stretched wide. “I’m happy to hear it’s working.”
He sniffed. “I don’t ha
ve all day. I have a bet to win.”
Her eyebrow arched. “Pushy clients don’t get what they want. I’m in charge.” But she rose to her feet. Stepped between his legs. Placed her hands on his shoulders.
He wanted to lean forward and lick her stomach. Take a bite of the fragrant flesh. Push aside the waistband of the barely there shorts and taste the treasure inside.
“Better?” she whispered.
He looked her straight in the eye. “It’s a start.”
“As I tell my students, first you make eye contact. He must think he’s the only one in the world you’re thinking about.” She executed a perfect body roll, barely touching him, but setting all his senses on fire nevertheless. Then she performed another one, placing her breasts entirely too close to his watering mouth. “Ooh, you’re doing good.”
Which could only mean one thing—she was going to turn up the pressure.
“Then it’s time to tempt him a little more.” She turned her back to him and eased herself on to his lap. Except she didn’t. Not completely. She teased his lap with her butt as she worked her hips in a circular motion. His erection leaped, eager for more contact. She chuckled and executed the move again. So close and yet so fucking far away. He dropped his head back and sucked in a breath of air that seemed to be in short supply.
“If he’s a good boy, then it’s time to reward him.”
“I’ve been the best boy.” His voice sounded strangled. Why had he egged her on? He gripped the edges of the chair so hard he expected the pattern of the leather to imprint on his hands.
The temptress smiled and circled his lips with her index finger. “Yes.”
Then she straddled him again. Except again, she maintained a small, but undeniable distance between them. She gripped his shoulder, rose on her toes, and moved her hips in that intoxicating way of hers. She alternated between lowering her hips and raising them to torture him. Each time she would get closer to his erection. But never quite close enough.
How she maintained the rhythm of the music when all he could hear was the roar of his heartbeat in his ears he did not know. He wanted to grab her hips and grind against her center.
