The men began the same routine. Some sang while others recited poetry; all the while Derek refused to release his hold. Amanda fought to concentrate. The audience let out catcalls and loud applause, letting her know exactly how much they were enjoying the show.
But this wasn’t a show to Amanda.
Derek continued whispering exactly what he’d like to do to her in her ear. She’d never been given a tongue bath before but it sounded intriguing coming from his lips. With each new suggestion, Amanda’s breath hitched. The man must have memorized the Kama Sutra. His words alone were about to cause her to have an orgasm.
She needed to distance herself. Amanda tried to step away. Derek’s grip tightened again. She covered the microphone with her hand, forgetting all about the button at her waist.
“You have to let me go or we’ll both embarrass ourselves.”
He paused, as a flicker of understanding crossed his face, before fading. “I was only wooing you.”
Amanda closed her eyes. In the flourish of passionate words, she’d forgotten she had commanded him to woo her. Of course, he was in trance like the rest of the men. That fact had slipped her mind, until now.
Heat flooded her face. What had she been thinking? Carnal images of twining bodies flashed in her mind. Okay, she knew what she’d been thinking, but that didn’t excuse her behavior.
She twisted until she could see Derek’s gray eyes. Hunger the likes of which she’d never experienced gnawed at her. For one second, her gaze locked to his lips, fanning the flames of her need to brush fire. Amanda blinked as the panic she’d been holding back struck. She shoved against his grip. This time Derek released. And there was no doubt that if he had not released her, she wouldn’t have escaped.
She faced him, her hand still on her mike. “You may stop wooing me now.”
His nostrils flared, but his expression remained unreadable. If he weren’t under trance, Amanda would have sworn her request had angered him. She glanced down at the front of his trousers. A ridge of hard flesh pressed against the fabric, giving her a clear view of his impressive erection.
She licked her lips and stepped away. Her gaze darted nervously to the audience and back to his trousers. “You may take a seat, Derek,” she instructed, her voice sounding breathless.
His lips curved into a wicked grin. “As you wish.”
Derek almost growled as he strode back to the seat at the edge of the stage. The other participants continued their outlandish idea of winning Amanda over. Didn’t they see she wasn’t responding to their attempts? He sat, which wasn’t easy in his current condition.
He’d made a mistake grabbing and holding Amanda. Her fresh scent and warm body threw his hormones into overdrive. Derek felt like a teenager around her, unable to keep his hands to himself. He wanted to lay bare what he had managed to detect. Her soft curves now branded him, burned into his flesh from the too-close contact.
Amanda’s lips all but begged to be kissed. If they hadn’t been on stage, he would have indulged them. Damn, what was the matter with him? Women were plentiful in his life. He didn’t need one more. Of course, his shaft wasn’t convinced. He sat on the chair, attempting to cool the blood raging through his body.
He couldn’t afford to cross the line into the field of emotion. He tensed as he realized how close he’d come to doing just that. Many washed-up careers lay there. Derek vowed his wouldn’t be next.
Amanda Dillon was a story. A very sexy, desirable, and intriguing story, but a story nonetheless. He’d do well to remember that fact.
The show drew to a close and Amanda once again stood before the men on stage. She gazed at their faces, judging their level of trance, and then began her countdown to bring them out of hypnosis.
One by one, the men awoke. They glanced around the stage, blinking, taking in their surroundings. Amanda watched closely, her gaze fixating on Derek as a bit of regret stung her. Did she regret placing him under hypnosis or was it because once he awoke he’d no longer be enamored with her?
Amanda wasn’t sure. All the men on stage stretched and yawned. All but Derek. She frowned, signaling for the stagehand to retrieve the video copies for the participants while she stepped forward to check on Derek. His breathing was even, yet his eyes remained closed.
She clicked off her mike. “Derek, I want you to awaken.”
No response.
Amanda glanced around at the audience, who came to their feet in a standing ovation. Her eyes widened as panic began to set in. Why wasn’t he awake? Her gaze scanned the perimeter of the stage. She caught Wendy’s attention. Her assistant stepped onto the stage nonchalantly.
“He won’t wake up,” Amanda stated calmly, as fear worked its way up her spine.
Wendy’s eyes practically bugged out of her skull. “What do you want me to do?” She slid a glance to Derek, her expression perplexed.
“I’m not asking you to carry him off stage. All you have to do is smile, wave, and then take him to my dressing room. I’ll finish waking him there.”
“What if you can’t?”
Amanda felt the color drain from her face. “What do you mean, what if I can’t?”
“I just wondered what we’d do with him if you can’t wake him up.”
“We won’t have to worry about it,” Amanda said, her voice firm, despite her trembling hands.
Wendy nodded, grasping Derek by an arm. She smiled and waved at the audience on cue. “Come on, handsome, I’ll take care of you.”
Something suspiciously like jealousy hit Amanda in the stomach, her insides knotting at her assistant’s overly familiar tone.
Wendy walked a few feet from Amanda, and then turned. “Has this ever happened to you before?”
“Never.” Amanda frowned.
Wendy glanced at Derek, and then back at Amanda. “Well, if you’re going to have someone following you around and wooing you for a while, it doesn’t hurt that he looks like a movie star.”
Amanda’s gaze flicked to Derek’s handsome face, her body responding instantly with a slow, steady ache. Returning her attention to Wendy, her eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t help either.”
Three
Derek allowed Wendy to lead him backstage. He wobbled occasionally for effect, although it wasn’t difficult with the pebble stabbing him in the foot. His plan was going better than he’d anticipated. Wendy walked him to a door marked with Amanda’s name. She opened the door and pushed him inside. The flowers he’d sent Amanda filled the room. He smiled to himself, pleased that she’d kept them.
“Please have a seat.”
“Where is my love, Amanda?” he asked, fighting to keep a straight face.
Wendy’s hazel eyes bulged with what looked like panic, before narrowing in suspicion. “You seem familiar. Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so,” he said, dropping his gaze to his hands. Had she recognized his voice? He’d spoken to this woman on multiple occasions. Surely, she’d say if she did. The moment stretched on, grating his nerves.
“Hmm, I guess you’re right. Oh well, Amanda will be here any second. You can sit on the couch and wait for her.” She patted his arm and spoke slowly as if he couldn’t understand English.
Derek nodded and sat on the tiny blue couch that had seen better days. Wendy assessed him for several minutes, and then turned away, a smile curling her lips.
The second Amanda’s assistant turned her back Derek scanned the room. All the items in Amanda’s dressing room appeared worn. Odd, considering her act raked in the money. What was she doing with the cash? He made a mental note to find out.
For now, he needed to get back into character and play his part. He leaned back, his large frame taking up over half the navy couch. He gazed, unfocused, at a point on the wall. Several minutes later the door burst open and Amanda Dillon entered the room. He responded to the crash, but just barely.
“I thought I told you to get rid of these flowers,” she snapped at Wendy.
Derek flinched.
Amanda closed her eyes for a second. “I’m sorry, Wendy. I didn’t mean to bark at you. I’m just freaking out.”
“I know.” She smiled and squeezed Amanda’s shoulder in silent support.
Amanda touched her hand briefly, then rushed forward and dropped to her knees in front of him. Her fingertips brushed Derek’s legs before settling on the couch beside him. The sight had the muscles in his thighs tensing. It didn’t take much imagination on Derek’s part to realize what else this position would be good for. He bit the inside of his mouth to keep from groaning aloud.
She pressed forward, parting his legs to accommodate her body. Derek started reciting the states and capitals in his mind, before picturing his grandmother in her underdrawers. He inwardly cringed at the latter, but he was desperate. Anything to keep his mind off Amanda’s head being anywhere near his cock.
“Derek, can you hear me?” she murmured.
He nodded slowly, his gaze turning to her.
“Good.” She mirrored his acknowledgment. “I’m going to count to ten, and when I reach the number ten, I want you to wake up feeling refreshed and well rested. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Spontaneously, Derek reached for Amanda’s hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. She quivered.
“What was that for?” she asked, as her mouth dropped open, forming a silent “O.”
He smiled, reveling in her reaction to his touch. “I have only just begun to woo you,” he warned. “Tell me what you desire when you close your eyes at night—the moment before you drift off to sleep. Is it someone like me, who’d pull you close and tell you everything is going to be all right? Or do you desire unbridled passion, hot and wet, matching the fire I sense inside of you? I can be both.” The last words left his mouth like a whispered promise that he intended to keep.
She flushed, awareness flaring in her vibrant blue eyes. Her face went from open to closed as she snatched her hand away. “I’m going to count now. One…Two…Three…Atch-oo. Sorry, allergies.” She glanced at the flowers.
Derek inwardly cringed. Just his luck the woman was allergic to flowers. It was his fault she suffered. She began to count again.
Amanda reached the end of her count, with her hand still tingling from where Derek’s lips had touched. She expected to see his eyelids flutter and recognition to return, but it didn’t happen.
He looked no different from when they’d started. His breathing remained steady, his gaze unchanged. The only discernible difference she could note was the slash of color in his cheeks.
What am I going to do now?
Her heart raced painfully in her chest. She couldn’t send him home in this condition. There had to be a way of waking him. Her mind scattered as she considered all her options. The same answer came back repeatedly.
She was responsible for him until she could wake him. Amanda needed to take him home with her so she could consult her hypnotherapy journals, making sure she hadn’t missed anything. The thought of having this man in her home both frightened and thrilled her.
She turned to Wendy, unable to close her expression before her assistant noticed. “I’m going to take Derek home with me so that I can continue to work on him.”
Her assistant’s brow shot to her hairline. “Continue to work on him, eh?”
Amanda ignored her remark. “I’m sure this is simply a temporary setback. Everything will be fine.”
“Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?”
“Wendy, we’ll have that discussion later. Right now I need you to help me get Derek back to my apartment.”
Wendy released a heavy breath, blowing her bangs up at the same time. “Well, I suppose it could be worse.”
Amanda snorted. “You’re kidding, right? How so?”
“He could be a troll, instead of drop-dead gorgeous.”
“At the moment, I don’t think his appearance ranks as the most important thing here, do you?”
“I guess not,” she said begrudgingly. “But look at him, his appearance certainly doesn’t hurt.”
“No, it does—” Amanda spoke before she realized what she was about to agree with. She clamped her mouth shut.
Oblivious, Wendy continued. “He’s not just a side of beef. He’s like the whole cow. Fine. Fine. Fine.”
“Enough! I don’t want to talk about it anymore. You know, he can hear you. The man’s not deaf.” Amanda scowled.
They both glanced at Derek, who sat unblinking on the couch.
“Yeah, I know he can hear me, but he won’t remember anything once you wake him up. Pity, really.” An evil grin crossed her friend’s face.
“No! Whatever it is, the answer is no.”
A smile tugged at Wendy’s mouth as she eyed her boss.
“Don’t say a single word. Not one. I mean it,” Amanda warned.
Wendy smirked. “I wouldn’t dream of it, boss. Besides, it would be way too easy.” She laughed, grasping her flat belly.
“Laugh now. We’ll see what happens the next time you come to me wanting a raise.”
Wendy wiped the tears from her eyes. “I can’t help it. The whole thing is funny.”
Amanda’s lips twitched.
“It holds such delicious possibilities,” she added, winking at Derek.
“Are you implying that I would take advantage of Mr. Armstrong’s condition?”
“Nope, of course not. I’m implying I would if I were you.”
An hour later, Amanda opened the door to her apartment and flipped on the lights. For some reason she was nervous. Her gaze darted around the room to make sure she hadn’t left anything lying about.
White covers draped her couch and two chairs. Photography books were scattered across her coffee table. Her kitchen nook remained tidy, because she never bothered to cook, what with the city being filled with so many good restaurants.
She stepped aside and asked Derek to enter. He did—with a big smile on his face.
“So this is your home,” he stated more than asked. “It’s nice. It smells like you.”
Amanda frowned and took a whiff. At least it didn’t stink. She shut the door behind him and locked it, before turning to face him. She needed to go through her journals, but first she needed a shower to clear her head.
“You’ll be sleeping in here if I can’t get you out of this trance. I know it’s not much. They claim it’s a second bedroom, but my bet is on a closet. There’s a tiny guest bathroom there.”
He laughed, his gray eyes twinkling. “I’m sure it will be fine, but where will you sleep?”
She licked her suddenly dry lips before answering. “My bedroom is through there.” She pointed to a door off to the left of the room. “If you need anything just call.”
“I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”
“It’s not a problem. You won’t be disturbing me. I’ll be researching the best way to help you. Besides, I don’t sleep very well anyhow.”
He tilted his head, his expression curious.
“Nope.” She shrugged. “I consider myself a functioning insomniac.” Amanda laughed.
“You’re not the only one. I tend to get up in the middle of the night and work.”
“I suppose we can keep each other company then.”
He grinned. “I’d like that.”
Derek settled into the little room Amanda used as a guest bedroom. She’d been right when she pegged it for a closet. He hoped like hell that the space didn’t make him claustrophobic before he got what he needed for the article.
Dotted like tiny bushes across a vast landscape, pictures covered the light green walls. Some were of Amanda as a child, smiling, two front teeth missing, her pigtails daring to be yanked. A few had her dressed like a sorcerer, including the hat and wand. She looked happy.
A tinge of guilt thumped across Derek’s chest. He pushed it aside.
The photos continued through the years. Am
anda graduating from high school and going on to college. Shortly thereafter the tone of the pictures changed, grew dark, shadowed. Smiles became less and less frequent.
One of the pictures showed Amanda next to a man that he assumed was her father. The man’s head dipped indulgently to the girl, but never lost the sadness lurking in his eyes.
Derek frowned. He knew the names of Amanda’s parents, but not much more. Her father passed away eight years ago, not long after the photo had been taken. Since they didn’t invest in her show, he’d ignored them, dismissing them as unimportant with regard to his story angle.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
He rubbed his chin. The sound of his nails scraping over newly formed stubble filled the silence. His lips quirked. Maybe Amanda would allow him to use her razor. He shook his head in amusement as he pictured her expression when he asked.
As he suspected, there was more to Amanda Dillon than met the eye.
The sound of a shower running in the distance caused Derek to turn. An image of Amanda’s stark-ass naked body standing under the spray scored his senses like long fingernails scraping down his bare back. Would she stand facing the water or have her back turned so the droplets curved around her lush bottom?
Both images had Derek’s cock leaping to attention. He ran his fingers through his hair, while he worked on tempering his thoughts. With her in the shower, he had the perfect opportunity to make a call. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone.
Several seconds later, his editor Dave Mason answered the phone.
“Where in the hell are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all evening.”
Derek glanced over his shoulder. Amanda’s door remained closed with the shower still running. “I’m in Amanda Dillon’s home.”
“You’re what?”
“I’m in Amanda Dillon’s home. It’s a long story. I’ll explain later. Do me a favor, Dave. Check out Amanda’s parents.”
Bad Boys Over Easy Page 16
