Bad Boys Over Easy

by Jen Nicholas; Jordan Summers Erin McCarthy

Perhaps all that kept her from saying yes was the right approach.

  Derek sat back in his leather chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. How could he approach this woman without giving her reason to be defensive? He rocked back and forth, resting his calfskin-clad feet on the edge of his maple desk. His mind wandered in a thousand different directions as he picked and discarded idea after idea.

  Damn, there had to be a way into her inner sanctum. One no one else had bothered to explore. He sat up, popping the video he’d purchased from one of the show’s participants into a nearby VCR. Still embarrassed by his onstage antics, the man had only been too eager to help him.

  Derek watched the tape with a reporter’s eyes, looking for any sign of weakness or unexplored opening. He focused on Amanda’s smooth and fluid movements, watching how she used a coin on a chain to place the men on stage in a trance. The coin twirled back and forth, flashing in the stage lights, guided by her long slender fingers.

  Derek shifted as he imagined those same fingers skimming over his chest and wrapping around his thick cock. He groaned, pulling at the fabric of his trousers to ease his sudden discomfort. Getting into her inner sanctum began to take on a whole new meaning for him. He expelled a heavy breath. Perhaps he had a bit more than just a professional interest in Ms. Amanda Dillon, but he’d keep it in check.

  He always did. The women Derek dated knew the rules. He didn’t lie to them, because he didn’t have to.

  On the video, the men’s gazes dimmed, glazing over, while their lids dropped closed. Amanda’s hypnotic voice spilled out, calm and soothing, weaving them deeper and deeper under her spell. Derek blinked, as he realized he’d almost gone under with them.

  Damn, she was good…for a fraud.

  In an instant, Derek knew what he would do. A smile creased his face and he clasped his hands together, rubbing them in anticipation. The way was clear. Time to meet Ms. Amanda Dillon on her home turf. He smiled as his eyes frisked over her body, looking forward to the day when his hands could do the same.

  Two

  Amanda stood off to the side of the stage, house lights turned up so she could see the audience. As always, women made up 90 percent of the crowd.

  The first thirty minutes of the show concentrated on mesmerism tricks. She told people about their past, predicted their future, all while holding them captivated, and more than a little curious about how she’d done it.

  The audience gladly participated, but Amanda knew what they really wanted. Each night the crowd grew more restless in anticipation of her hypnosis segment. Her act had turned into a monster and she saw no way to kill it, not even with angry villagers and torches.

  Her gaze scanned the group. In her mind, she’d already singled out four of the men she’d pick for tonight’s performance. They easily stood out among the rest, their arrogant demeanor screaming for attention. Amanda smiled. She’d give them all the attention they could handle and then some.

  She skimmed the group, searching for her fifth victim—eh—participant. Her eyes locked on to a man dressed in black trousers and a crisp white shirt. He sat quietly, observing her intently with his silvery-gray gaze. His black jacket hung casually over a crossed leg.

  Amanda’s heart thumped and skidded to a halt, taking her breath with it. The man was gorgeous, but not in the normal Neanderthal kind of way. His build was trim, but firm. With the body of a triathlete, he sat loose limbed, his gaze locked to hers, yet completely aware of his surroundings. Almost as if he could leap into action at a moment’s notice.

  Geez girl, he’s not a superhero. That thought did little to lesson his impact.

  His dark sable hair held glints of salt, even though his aquiline features told her he wasn’t much older than thirty-five. But it was his eyes that held Amanda. Like piercing storm clouds, they flashed, giving her a glimpse of the man beneath.

  And oh, what a man.

  Her heart stammered, and then raced as she took a deep shuddering breath. Heat flooded her face, trailing down her body, licking at her nipples, before settling in her groin. It had been…had been…well forever, since she’d experienced this kind of reaction to a man.

  Excitement and fear battled inside Amanda as she forced herself to look away. You’re a professional, remember?

  Amanda grinned. For purely selfish reasons, she’d just found her fifth participant. She moistened her suddenly dry mouth and made her way back to center stage where a bottle of water awaited her. She loosened the cap and took a drink before placing the bottle on the hardwood floor.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please.” She spoke into her cordless headpiece mike that could be flicked on and off by a control button at her waist.

  The crowd hushed as tension filled the room. Amanda smiled.

  “I’ve chosen tonight’s participants. Notice I didn’t say willing,” she added and the crowd exploded with laughter.

  “When I point to you, please quickly come forward to the stage.”

  Amanda made a big show of pointing to each man. One particular he-man type shook his head in denial. “Oh come on, tiger, I won’t hurt you,” she purred.

  Ego warred with good sense. Lucky for Amanda the former won out. It always did, she thought wryly. She saved the best for last as the spotlight spun around the room waiting for her to make her final choice. It wasn’t difficult. She’d known all along whom she wanted onstage next to her.

  Amanda pointed, singling out the man with the silvery-gray gaze. She crooked her finger and beckoned him to come to her. His lips quirked and he arched a brow in challenge. For a second she thought he’d refuse, but then just as quickly he smiled and stood, making his way forward.

  Amanda released a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. She actually felt relief. Why it mattered so much that this man participate, she didn’t know. But it did. It was as if his presence brought her back to life, reminding her why she’d become a performer in the first place. Exhilaration flooded her, filling the empty well where her creativity had been housed.

  She returned his smile as he stepped onto the stage, rearranging the men until her last pick stood next to her.

  Big mistake.

  Heat rolled from his body in waves, pounding her with unexpected warmth, while his woodsy masculine scent teased her senses. Amanda could feel his hot gaze sliding over her face and down her length, pausing at her aching breasts before moving lower.

  All the attention made her wet and needy. She fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

  If he kept this up, she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything other than her body’s reaction to his nearness. Moving him had definitely been a mistake. The man shifted, drawing himself a few inches closer to her. Amanda’s body tingled in feminine awareness, before sounding tornado-like warnings.

  Too late.

  With trembling fingers, Amanda reached into her pocket and pulled out her coin on a chain. One of many devices she used to place people under hypnosis, this item seemed to work best during a performance. She glanced at each man’s face to assure she had his undivided attention.

  The gray-eyed man’s gaze smoldered in undisguised appreciation. How could she make it through the show if he continued to look at her that way?

  Forcing herself to focus, Amanda raised her trembling hand in the air and let the coin slip down until it could spin in the spotlight. “Gentlemen, I want you to listen to my voice, while you look at the coin. Watch how the light reflects off the surface like sunshine on a lake.”

  Amanda flicked her wrist, causing the coin to spin back and forth. “Soon you’ll find yourselves unable to look away and that’s okay. You’re safe in the light. Nothing can harm you.”

  She glanced at the men, checking their responsiveness. Many control freaks were somnambulists. These types of people were so highly suggestible that they’d do almost anything she asked. The key was discovering the line in the sand they would not cross.

  Amanda continued. �
��Your eyes may start to water or you may find yourself feeling the urge to swallow. These things are natural. Just allow them to happen.”

  Unconsciously her gaze sought the man beside her. His concentration appeared locked on the coin as he shifted his weight. She allowed herself to take a moment to look at him. He really did have beautiful eyes, framed with decadently long lashes. It would take Amanda a bottle of mascara to create the same effect. Up close, his face seemed a deeper tan, as if he’d spent days lounging on a beach somewhere.

  Amanda pictured him in a small pair of trunks, his lean muscular form spread out on a blanket across white powdered sand. On the other hand, perhaps he sunbathed nude. The thought caused her to blink and gently squeeze her legs together to stave off the ache. The subtle movement only made things worse.

  She followed the fascinating crinkles around his silvery gray eyes, which told her he laughed a lot, to the sensuous swipe of his mouth. Amanda forced back a groan as she imagined exactly how deadly those lips could be to her senses if she allowed him access to her body.

  Amanda tore her gaze away from the man. Several of the other men stood, eyes drooping, their breathing slow, steady and deep. She continued her induction. “Your eyelids are getting heavy. It’s getting harder and harder to keep them open. When you’re ready, and only when you’re ready, allow them to close.”

  The docile tones she used loosened the last of their resistance. Within a couple of minutes all the men had their eyes closed. The muscles in their faces relaxed as the last of the tension left their bodies.

  Normally at this point she’d ask the men to do something highly embarrassing to prove they were under trance, but for some reason Amanda couldn’t bring herself to make the man standing next to her quack like a duck.

  She bit back a curse. She’d never allowed anyone to get under her skin the way this man had. Someone backstage coughed, snapping her out of her reflection. The audience remained quiet, waiting for her next move.

  Amanda signaled to a stagehand, who brought five chairs up on stage. She turned to the men before her. “I want you all to open your eyes and walk carefully to the chairs and take a seat.”

  Simultaneously, the men opened their eyes and strode over to the waiting chairs. Amanda waited until the last one sat then turned to the audience. She still couldn’t believe she was about to do this. She’d never changed her show for anyone before. Heck, Amanda had never even considered it.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to do something a little different tonight. Instead of having these fine gentlemen woo me at the same time, I’ve decided to bring them up individually.”

  A couple of anticipatory gasps rang out from the audience followed by encouraging applause.

  Derek was damn glad he’d placed a pebble in his shoe before coming up on stage. His toe would probably hurt for a week, but the pain was a small price to pay to keep from falling under hypnosis while Amanda spoke. Up close, she was even more striking than the photograph. Derek battled with his natural urges while standing next her.

  The stage lights highlighted her velvety golden hair and soft features, which shone through despite the stage makeup. Bright blue eyes with a luscious red mouth that pouted even when she didn’t try to. Amanda looked almost fragile beneath the glaring spotlight and much younger than he’d initially anticipated.

  Her body was curved like a woman should be. Her breasts were full and achingly touchable. At one point, Derek shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching out.

  Amanda’s hips flared and rounded while her generous bottom beckoned to be touched, caressed—stroked. It would be a miracle if he managed to keep his cock in his pants long enough to strip her of her secrets and write this story.

  She’d just varied her performance. Derek didn’t know why she had changed tack, but it immediately made him wary. He was prepared for the performance he’d viewed on the video, but Amanda spoke to the audience about one-on-one.

  Personally, he was more than ready to do one-on-one with Ms. Amanda Dillon, although he’d prefer that act to be private. Professionally, Derek wasn’t at all sure he was ready to cross swords with her. What if she discovered his deception? She was a trained hypnotist who should be able to recognize a trance state, or lack thereof, at fifty paces.

  Unless the entire act was a fraud like he initially suspected. The thought of a nice, hot, juicy scandal fired his blood, almost as much as the woman standing before him.

  Covertly, Derek glanced at the men beside him. There was no mistaking the glazed look in their eyes. The men were under hypnosis. If they were faking it, he’d eat his Italian loafers.

  Perhaps she wasn’t a fraud after all.

  Amanda chose that moment to summon him over to her side. Derek’s heart rate shot to the stratosphere. He’d practiced gazing without really seeing in the mirror. In theory, he’d done well, but this wasn’t theory any longer.

  Amanda asked the man in the black slacks to come to her. He stood in a smooth motion and all but glided across the stage. Amazing for a man who was at least six feet tall. His fluid muscles bunched and stretched like a great wolf striding toward her. For a heartbeat, Amanda felt the overwhelming urge to run. It wasn’t as if he was going to pounce on her onstage.

  The thought sent a ripple of awareness racing through her. Once again she considered how long it had been since she’d felt anything other than annoyance for a member of the opposite sex. Amanda couldn’t recall. This meant one thing. It had been too long.

  The man stopped in front of her, his gray gaze unfocused. He looked relaxed, but something about his appearance disturbed her. She looked again. His chest rose and fell in steady, deep rhythms. Amanda ignored the niggle of unease at the back of her mind. He was under like the others, maybe just not as deep.

  For some reason the realization brought a mixture of joy and sadness to Amanda. Part of her wished he wasn’t under trance. She shook her head to clear it and continued, knowing his being hypnotized was for the best. The truth was Amanda didn’t think she could handle the focus of that gray gaze directly. It was too powerful. Too sexual. Too male.

  “Are you comfortable?” she asked, her voice quivering.

  The man nodded slowly.

  “Good.” Amanda smiled as she focused on his face. Dang, but he was gorgeous. “I’m going to ask you to woo me in a moment. I want you to give me everything you’ve got.” She turned and winked at the audience, which brought snickers from the crowd.

  “But first I’d like to know your name.”

  He swayed ever so slightly. Amanda reached out to steady him. Her hand locked onto solid muscle and heated strength. She pulled away as if she’d been burned. Maybe knowing his name wasn’t such a good idea. Before she could change her mind, he spoke.

  “My name is Derek Armstrong.”

  The name sounded as strong as he felt. She brushed her fingers along her pants leg and swallowed hard, shoring up her resistance.

  “Where do you live, Mr. Armstrong?” Amanda’s mouth asked the simple question, but her mind demanded more information. When’s your birthday? Are you married? Would you like to have sex on the stage?

  Her eyes widened as the last thought trampled its way through her mind, along with a cavalcade of others. You are a professional. Time to start acting like one, she reminded herself again.

  “I live in New York,” Derek’s voice was as smooth as maple syrup gliding over blueberry pancakes.

  Amanda’s stomach growled and her nipples tightened. She knew she had to ask him to woo her. It was part of the act, but her common sense told her to back away from the nice wolf before he ate her.

  She went on with the show. “Okay, Derek. Woo me.”

  For a minute, he didn’t move. He didn’t glance her way. He just stood there, muscles locked, his hands balling up into lightly clenched fists.

  Amanda was afraid she’d have to ask again. As soon as the thought flitted through her mind, he moved. Except it wasn’t the move she’d been
expecting. He slid from in front of her to behind her with such grace that it would’ve made a ballerina blush.

  His hand snaked out around her waist and pulled her close, until her back rested against his wide supportive chest. The curve of her bottom greeted his thighs. She could feel the ridge of his erection pressing against her lower back. The move sent gooseflesh rising over Amanda’s arms.

  “He’s smooth,” she said in a shaky voice to the audience.

  His mouth pressed sensually against her ear while his breath disturbed her neatly coifed hair. “I want to take you—for long walks in the park. Lunches at Le Bernardin and shopping at Tiffany’s.”

  How did he know she liked to have lunch at Le Bernardin? She opened her mouth to ask. His lips skimmed her ear, erasing the question from her mind. Amanda shuddered and her nipples pebbled, raking across the lace of her bra with every inhalation.

  What had he whispered? Oh, yeah, Tiffany’s.

  “He has good taste, folks. We’re talking exquisite jewelry here.” Amanda giggled nervously, wondering how much more she could take before she begged him to sleep with her. She flicked the mike off so the audience wouldn’t hear her pant.

  “I want to see your laughter first thing in the morning and your beautiful face glowing with passion as I make you come last thing at night.” His fingers splayed across her stomach possessively, pulling her in a notch tighter.

  The crowd gasped.

  Amanda didn’t care.

  Heat radiated from his touch, sending warmth searing through her body, lighting up her nerve endings like a roman candle on the Fourth of July.

  Amanda couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Refused to think. She should push him away. He’d taken over the show, her senses, with a few well-placed lines, and she’d willingly allowed him to do so.

  The only problem was the audience couldn’t hear his hypnotic voice. So the performance was just for her. Jealousy wrapped comfortably around possessiveness swirled inside her. Suddenly Amanda didn’t want to share, so she did the only thing she could think of, the only thing that would stave off the panic threatening to capsize her. Amanda flicked on her microphone and summoned the other men from their chairs, asking them to woo her too.