"You're definitely not husband material." She laughed weakly, a bit hysterically to her ears. "I'm looking for Mr. Right and you're Mr. Wrong in the flesh."
"Should I be offended?"
He sounded as though he'd already decided she'd impugned his masculinity, and she forced open her eyes, felt another flutter at the sight of him poised so erotically over her breast. "If you wanted to be my husband, I suppose you might be offended. If you want to be a romance hero, it's a compliment."
"Define romance hero."
"Romance heroes are fantasy men," she said--an outward show of bravado, when inside she was still rattled and completely relieved that he'd dragged them through what might have been an incredibly awkward moment. For her at least. "Romance heroes are the stuff of grand passion. In books there's always a happily ever after. In real life they're meant for sweeping affairs that leave you smiling every time you remember them."
That green gaze held hers. "So you marry Mr. Right, and have sweeping affairs with Mr. Wrong?"
She nodded.
"And I'm Mr. Wrong?"
"Personified."
His gaze dropped to her breast, watched her nipple strain toward his touch as he traced lazy circles with the rose petals. "Are you in the market for a sweeping affair?"
"I might be."
"If I help you scope out Mr. Right?"
She hadn't thought of that, wasn't thinking of much except holding still, when she wanted to rub her body against his like a cat needing to be stroked.
"Are you in the market?" The repercussions of lust with this man were beyond her comprehension right now.
The answer blazed in his eyes, a green fire that scorched her. "If you let me tie you up again."
The arm he'd locked around her waist tightened, anchored her against him, his rock-solid erection emphasizing his point.
Those crazy flutters inside her rioted to get out. "I'll think about it." She didn't know what else to say, couldn't ever remember being more overwhelmed in her life.
Josh straightened, and that devilish half grin flashed. "Me, too, chere. Me, too. I'll be thinking about it for a long time."
The rose suddenly disappeared and the moment was broken. Taking a step back, Josh worked one-handed the knot that bound her wrists. "Will you stay now?"
"I'll stay." No question. What would be the point of leaving? How could she think about any man now but the one who'd just kissed her?
Josh let her handbag fall to the floor. The chain strap clinked as it coiled into a pile at their feet, a tinkling reminder of her pleasurable imprisonment. Her wrists sprang free and she wobbled slightly on legs that felt as though her muscles had been tied into knots.
Josh steadied her with a strong arm. Taking one of her hands, he lifted it, surveying the indentations where the chain had bitten into her wrist. As if he could erase the marks, he pressed a soft kiss to her skin, making Lennon shiver.
"It's after midnight, chere. Are you heading to bed?"
No, not bed. Not unless she could go there with him, and Lennon simply wasn't ready to take that step just yet. She didn't think she could bear crawling into bed beside him, to act as if nothing had just happened. Not if she expected to sleep.
She glanced at the antique ormolu clock. "It's not too late. Maybe I can still get some work done. What about you?"
Was it too much to hope that he'd go to bed, leaving her to crawl in bed later when he was safely asleep?
The somber glance he cast at his computer equipment answered that question.
"I've got a long night ahead of me. I'm calling room service for some coffee. Do you want anything?"
"No, thanks." Nothing on that menu would help Lennon figure out what had just taken place between them, what could take place if she abandoned her search for Mr. Right.
JOSH CALLED ROOM SERVICE. While he placed his order, he watched Lennon boot up her laptop. Gold silk shimmered with her motions, a champagnelike effect over slender curves that meant this ache in his crotch wasn't going away anytime soon.
He had no business lusting after Lennon--nothing about the situation worked. He did flings; she wanted a husband.A husband. He wasn't even sure what to make of that revelation yet. Or of Lennon's spin on Mr. Right and Mr. Wrong. What was it about romance heroes that had her convinced she could only handle them in small doses?
Sounded like a job for an aggressive P.I. And Josh was aggressive if nothing else. At the moment he questioned whether he possessed more aggression than intelligence, because an intelligent P.I. wouldn't be interested in probing the life secrets of his beautiful blond protectee.
Lennon was from a world Josh didn't belong to anymore. He had no use for cocktail parties or cultural philanthropy. He tracked down missing people, and he'd rather spend his time off fishing in the bayou. Or at a Saints game. Not dealing with endless obligations to family and friends, which was exactly what she--and he by association--was doing at this art gallery opening.
If that wasn't enough, he'd already stirred up enough speculation by appearing at tonight's event. The last thing he needed was to stir up even more by openly consorting with the great-niece of his late grandfather's mistress. His family would go through the roof, and he'd have to deal with the fallout.
Even though at some time in his disreputable past the thought of annoying his family would have satisfied him, nowadays Josh plain didn't want to deal with their reactions. He could almost hear his grandmother: "I never thought I'd live to see the day when history would repeat itself."
His father would scowl and pour a brandy. Not because he'd disapprove of his son's affair, but because he wouldn't want to deal with his mother's diatribes any more than Josh did. Josh's mom would be the one rushing around trying to appease everyone and bring back peace to the family. A bad scene all the way around.
So why wasn't Josh worried? Damned good question.
Placing the telephone receiver back in the cradle, he watched Lennon settle herself in a chair, one smooth motion of supple muscle that made his crotch throb hard. And when she swept that honey-blond hair off her shoulders, he could see the fading marks from the chain that had bound her wrists.
Did Auntie Q hire you to be my knight in shining armor, too? Lennon had asked him just hours ago.
Miss Q hadn't and he wasn't, but that didn't change the fact that he felt more than protective toward Lennon. She did things to his libido he'd studiously avoided for two decades.
Josh hoped like hell the coffee would get here soon. If he had any sense at all he'd drink enough to stay awake all night. The thought of sleeping while Lennon stretched out on the bed beside him...well, that was a joke worthy of a good chuckle.
"What are you working on?" he asked, swinging around the table to sit in front of his own system.
"I'm revising. This manuscript needs to be on my editor's desk soon and the gallery opening has put me behind."
He tapped the keyboard to wake the system from sleep mode. "A romance novel?"
"I write historical love stories set in Georgian England and the Regency period." She never lifted her gaze from the screen. "I'm calling this one Milord Spy, but that's just a working title. My editor will change it to whatever she thinks will sell best."
"Georgian England and the Regency?" He had to dig deep to remember exactly when those time periods were. He remembered crazy old King George, but that was about the closest he got. "Are there any knights?"
"No."
"Milord Spy, hmm? Who's he spying on?"
Lennon still didn't glance up, but her fingers tapped speedily on the keyboard before she replied. "On the heroine. He has evidence that she's a traitor to the Crown during the Napoleonic Wars."
"Is she?"
"No. But he doesn't know that. He's trying to seduce her into revealing her involvement."
Josh typed in his password. "Not very gallant, is he?"
"Not yet, but he will be. Think story conflict. The dark moment. He's going to have to choose between his love for t
he heroine and his honor."
Lifting his gaze, Josh glanced at Lennon. She still stared at her screen, fingers tapping mad bursts on the keys.
"What does he choose?"
"Love, of course."
Of course. Did Lennon demand that kind of sacrifice before she got involved? And where was the damned coffee, anyway? "She doesn't want much, does she?"
The clicking stopped abruptly and Lennon lifted her whiskey gaze from her laptop, leaning on an elbow to peer at him around his monitor. A slow smile touched her mouth. "He made the right choice. It's a romance, black sheep. There's always a happy ending. He keeps his job and gets the girl."
Josh rocked back in his chair and snapped his fingers. "Oh, that's right. You write fantasy, not the real stuff."
Lennon's smooth golden brow dipped downward in a frown. "It's a fairly common misconception. But hey, each of us to our own."
Josh thought her opinion was rather generous, but didn't comment when she went back to typing.
With a sheer effort of will, he set one system to running the names from Miss Q's guest list through the Department of Motorized Vehicles, while another one performed credit checks. More difficult to access than some local and state databases, financial records could effectively eliminate money as a motive for threatening the gallery and its coordinator, which would clear at least one helping off his plate.
But it was damned difficult to focus on taking the databases through their paces with Lennon sitting so close. Her bursts of typing didn't bother him, rather it was her presence that was doing him in. Now that he knew how it felt to kiss those pouty lips, Josh couldn't pretend he'd rather do anything else.
He got up when room service arrived, only to find that caffeine didn't alleviate persistent erections, rather it kept him awake enough to appreciate the full effects of being horny. And it didn't help that Lennon had slouched down so low in her chair that every time he moved, he brushed her knee.
Josh tried to lose himself in the search. Work usually provided the cure-all for anything that ailed him. Not tonight, though. Tonight, dodging the Fair Credit Reporting Act only brought an accumulation of payment histories, liens and recent bankruptcies that pieced together profiles of the guests.
When he learned Louis Garceau had recently declared bankruptcy to the tune of some hefty numbers, Josh had to wonder about a man who valued literary elitism over the more practical aspects of survival. Did Garceau hang around with moneyed philanthropists just to find endorsements for his literary works, or did he have another, more ambitious reason for being here?
Josh jotted down the question on a notepad and dodged another brush with Lennon's knee. Then it occurred to him that her keyboard was silent and had been for a while. Leaning back, he stretched his arms to ease the tension building in tight neck muscles, and glanced around his monitor. And found out why Lennon hadn't complained that their knees kept bumping like too many crayfish in a bucket. She was asleep.
Her lashes painted golden half circles above her cheeks and brought to mind the way her eyes had fluttered closed when he'd kissed her. She looked as gorgeous asleep as she had with those soft sighs tumbling from her lips.
She also looked uncomfortable with her chin propped on her palm. The only heroic thing for Josh to do was get her to bed, because if she moved, she'd wake up with her face in her keyboard.
She'd dubbed him Mr. Wrong, after all, and Mr. Wrongs were romance heroes. Time to be heroic. All part of maintaining an image and living up to expectations.
Getting to his feet, Josh whispered, "Come on, Lennon. Time for bed."
She jolted, and sure enough, her elbow slipped out from beneath her. Fortunately, being the hero he was, Josh steadied her with a hand on her shoulder.
"I'll shut down your system."
Lennon didn't argue, but sleepily allowed him to steer her toward the bedroom. For a hopeful moment, Josh thought he might have the pleasure of tucking her in, but one glance at the king-size bed pulled Lennon from half-asleep to fully conscious faster than he could have unloaded his nine-millimeter.
"It's okay. I'm awake." She still sounded groggy, but had recovered enough to shrug him off. "Thanks."
Her hackles were up, and Josh knew a lost cause when he saw one. "Sleep by the wall, chere," he said, before leaving her to perform her nightly ablutions alone.
The door slammed behind him.
Pouring the dregs from the carafe of coffee, Josh took a fortifying swig before sitting in front of Lennon's laptop. He was looking for the Save function when a phrase caught his eye.
The pearl of her womanhood.
That warranted a second glance, and Josh scanned the document, wondering if reading a writer's unpublished work constituted any sort of crime. None that came to mind, and Lennon had been the one to suggest he read her books.
The hard planes of his face softened as he explored the dewy folds of her body with knowing fingers, his thumb centering on the pearl of her womanhood. Pleasure spread through her like the heat of the summer sun. Her muscles grew languid, melting, her head much too heavy a weight for her neck. Sinking back against the pillows, she curled her fingers into the coverlet, lifted her hips as the first sweeping stroke of his tongue blazed along the folds of her sensitive flesh.
"Well, well, chere. What have we here?" Josh stared at the monitor. "A glimpse of the way Lennon likes it."He'd never been one to ignore opportunity when it fell into his lap, and didn't intend to start now. Information specialists put information to good use. He was one of the best. Even better with proper motivation. And the thought of lovely Lennon climbing into bed was the best motivation he could think of.
The lovely young lady in the story was losing her virginity in this scene. While reading all the problems associated with a virgin sacrificing her maidenhead didn't do much for him--personally, he preferred reading Clancy and Uris--the thought of Lennon sitting nearby working on this steamy scene did crazy things to his already-strained libido.
Had their earlier brush with bondage inspired her?
Josh could only wonder. Had he made Lennon feel this way when he'd tied her up tonight? She'd sure as hell made him feel like pounding his chest in a rare testosterone burst.
Scanning the screen, Josh searched for a hint of the woman who had such an unexpected effect on him. And he found her in her characters' actions. The hero in her story was gentle with his innocent lover, but he possessed her in an undeniable exchange of power that hinted of the various sexual places he would explore with her--once he'd familiarized her with the basics.
Before backing out of the file, Josh made note of the name, Milord Spy, then familiarized himself with her desktop.
A Love All Her Own. A Love to Believe In. Daughter of Midnight. He opened Lord of Shadows and scrolled randomly through the document, landing on page 267.
His lovely lady recognized his need, and his reluctance, but she intended to take what she wanted. Suddenly her slim fingers were between his legs, unfastening his trousers, and he could have done nothing more than brace his back against the sturdy oak chest if the Regent himself had appeared and bade him stay her hand.
She unleashed his beast, her fingertips brushing his hot length, provoking a need that had him grinding out a curse and reaching blindly for her.
Looked as if Lennon liked to be in control, too. The well-crafted scene simmered with sensuality, and Josh shifted uncomfortably on the chair, closed the file and opened another.
"I intend to make you breathe my name on a sigh." His throaty promise filled the shadows between them, whispered across her ear until she shivered with anticipation of his touch. Then with one insistent thrust, he gave her what she wanted, sank his finger deep into her heat. "I plan to explore every inch of your sweet flesh until you want me more than you ever wanted before."
Josh would have felt like a damned voyeur if his head hadn't been filled with images of enacting these scenes with Lennon. He'd never make it through the night if he kept this up. Fortunately,
he found a folder containing more practical files, and headed into those, hoping to alleviate the trouser seam digging into his crotch in what was becoming a regular annoyance of late.Electronic Press Kit. Magazine Interview. Web Site Updates. Not only could he handle these, but reading her biography revealed something he found very interesting.
Lennon McDarby published her first work in the fourth grade, when an elementary teacher submitted her essay in a contest sponsored by a historical organization.
Josh would bet money Doc Linc had read this biography or some variation of it, which meant he'd researched Lennon online. And that got Josh thinking in an entirely different direction.Who was to say that their stalker wasn't some psycho trying to get a response from Lennon? Terrorizing her great-aunt would get one. She was a writer, and as such, a personality up for public scrutiny. Maybe she didn't have the exposure of a celebrity, but she'd surely have...
A Web site.
Heading back to his system, Josh ran a search on Lennon's name and pulled up a disturbing number of hits--both Web sites and bulletin board discussions devoted to her novels.
Within minutes, Josh had titles, reviews and even industry statistics that indicated the romance market was bigger business than he'd ever realized. And apparently Lennon had earned a name for herself there.
Her official fan site and her publisher's pages provided a wealth of promotional information that told him everything about Lennon the writer, but nothing about the woman.
The bulletin board discussions were much more interesting.
Several boards provided a forum for her fans to log on and voice opinions of her latest works. Lennon herself made the occasional appearance to promote an upcoming book or discuss a topic of interest. There were discussions devoted strictly to Lennon's fictional sex scenes. From what he saw, reviewers and readers alike touted her as one of today's spiciest genre novelists.
From what he'd read, he decided that Lennon liked fairy tales. Cinderella stories where the hero rescued his heroine. Beauty and the Beast stories where the heroine rescued her hero. Lennon might be approaching marriage pragmatically, but the woman he met through her writing wanted a romance hero.
One-Night Man Page 8
