Flirting With Disaster

by Matthews, Josie

  She was a casualty in the war of love.

  “Hello there.”

  A nasally, masculine voice pulled her from her tugging and self-degradation, and she looked up to find a hulking man standing before her. His neck had the girth of a much larger man, but he was only about five-foot-ten. Short and stocky with an expensive haircut and hardened features. And tan…he was quite tan. He wasn’t homely, but rather handsome, in a bronzed, professional wrestler type of way.

  “Hello,” she managed. Men didn’t usually seek her out.

  His gaze traversed her bosom first, then her face, then her French twist, which had taken twenty-nine of the thirty minutes she’d used to get ready. His smirk and shifty eyes were a bit disconcerting.

  “I’m Richard Fantome, heir to Fantome Fitness.” He held out his beefy hand and she stared at it. She released the strap of her Monili Lambskin backpack and placed her hand in his.

  His grip was strong and sweaty. “Nice to meet you, Jude Du…” Had he seen last night’s broadcast of the Spawn of Satan’s show? “Darling. Jude Darling.”

  An unnaturally white, toothy smile covered half his tawny face.

  “I saw you last night at the bar. I noticed your interest in me.” He kissed her hand.

  Her brows shot up. Oh, how entertaining. A narcissist. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t notice you.”

  He frowned, as she expected. “Well, I’ll have to fix that, then. The castle tour? Unless, of course, you’d rather we went our own way.”

  Jude smiled as Mr. Fantome glanced in the mirror behind the lobby desk, straightened his hair, and flexed.

  “That sounds intriguing.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I’m quite interested in the castle tour, thank you.”

  “That’s acceptable.” He crowded her into a corner of the room until she was backed against the stone wall. “We’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted.” One of his brows lifted and the other lowered in a dastardly, Snidely Whiplash effect.

  Mr. Fantome placed one hand on the wall next to her head. “Are you interested in fitness, sweetheart?” His bicep contracted in her peripheral vision, bulging under his tight V-neck sweater. He moved closer and whispered in her ear. “I bench four-twenty-five.” His breath smelled of Listerine. “I bet I could bench you.”

  Jude jolted in revelation. This man wanted her? Anthropologically speaking, she wasn’t the most attractive woman in the room. But considering her bosom and hip width, perhaps Mr. Fantome was subconsciously attracted to her reproductive attributes.

  Reproductive…

  This could be an advantageous pairing, after all…in a self-sacrificing aspect, considering Mr. Fantome’s overly tight jeans, constrictive sweater and notoriously large ego.

  Jude processed his body language—confident, aggressive… Aggressive would not bode well for her mission. She would need to rectify the situation and ensure control if she were to whip Mr. Fantome into shape for her plans.

  Movement caught the corner of her eye, and she glanced past the testosterone filled giant in front of her as The Count approached with a scowl. Her heart rate increased.

  She slid from under Mr. Fantome’s hulking figure and impulsively grabbed The Count’s Carhartt jacket by the collar to peck his cheek. “Brother, dear, you’re late again!”

  Jude looked at her “brother” with pleading eyes, hoping he would follow her lead and instill in the Hulk’s mind, that she had a protector if need be.

  The Count lifted his gaze from hers to the man lurking behind her. His lips twitched just before they came down on hers with a vengeance, devouring her surprised gasp with his mouth and tongue and doing other unfamiliar naughty things.

  The kiss was…magnificent.

  The way he consumed her, tasted her, demolished all her senses until she couldn’t think straight. Paid escort.

  His hand reached around, and he palmed her bottom. Her eyes popped open, and a squeak escaped, as she pulled back from him in shock.

  “Brother, my ass. I’ve been looking all over for you, Pumpkin.” He glanced at his watch. “We have just enough time for that quickie before lunch.”

  She lifted her gaze to his mocking one. The Beast, Vlad the Impaler, Count Dangerous…whatever she decided he would be today. Those haunting eyes were dark last night. Today, they were an amber storm. She was mesmerized. Absolutely spellbound by his darkness…and his double-crossing treachery.

  He grabbed her arm and dragged her toward an adjacent hallway near the center staircase. She quickly regained her bearings and yanked her arm from his tight grasp. Meeting him eye for eye, she remained fixed on the lethal whiskey daggers in his gaze.

  “Don’t you remember all those naughty things you said you’d do to me last night, darling?” His smirk was malevolent. She squinted, looking for the points of his incisors to protrude from his succulent lips. Yes, today he would be Dracula, King of the Damned.

  “What, like shoot you with wooden bullets to put you out of your misery?”

  The Hulk chose that moment to mark his territory. “Excuse me, but Miss Darling and I are going on the castle tour together.” His nostrils flared in warning. “She’s been matched with me as a contest winner this month.”

  Drac’s hypnotic gaze stayed riveted to hers. “Ms. Darling,” he drawled the ‘l’ like he was licking rich chocolate ice cream from a cone, “has already consented to a very personal tour with me.”

  Hulk smirked. “She obviously gets around.”

  Drac’s fist tunneled past Jude’s ear like a 747 through a jet stream. It struck the Hulk’s chin with a wrenching crack, the punch faster than any body movement she’d ever witnessed.

  The violence sent a shudder down her spine, and she glanced at the titanic brute on the floor.

  The scar down the side of The Count’s face throbbed, his jaw clenched, and those amber eyes had turned dark and macabre. He spun and pulled her to a dark corridor behind the lobby. She stumbled behind him as he lifted a thick tapestry that hung the length of one wall to expose a secret wooden door. He opened the door and tugged her through to a stairwell.

  They quickly descended to a gloomy, dank hallway below the castle. His lair.

  He stopped once the door at the top of the stairs snapped closed and swatted her behind.

  “Ouch!” She rubbed her offended bottom. “What on Earth?”

  He held out half an Almond Joy wrapper. “This was stuck on your ass, Ms. Darling.”

  Jude’s cheeks heated, even in the cold, inky, stone-lined hallway.

  Okay, so shedding Stuffy Duffy wasn’t going to be so easy, after all.

  Five

  “When you are courting a nice girl, an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder, a second seems like an hour.

  That’s relativity.”

  Albert Einstein

  For Christ’s sake, the woman was pure substantiated sin.

  Those voluptuous curves tucked into clothes that made Beck wonder about the rises and hollows he’d kill to explore. Those mountainous, pert breasts. The sensually hard nipples poking provocatively through her thin shirt. The perky ass that twitched when she walked, and those long legs…

  All that creamy skin begged to be touched and marked. Her incredible copper hair waited to be unleashed.

  Beck wanted to strip her bare and mess her The. Fuck. Up. He wanted to run his hands over her soft, soft, flesh and play in those silky, copper curls until they were tangled around his body, holding him while he stroked inside her ʼtil she came.

  She was nutty, erratic…deranged. For God’s sake, she drank like a fish, talked to herself and had convinced herself to marry a gay guy.

  God, he was hard again. She was a temptation he wanted to corrupt. One he should run from. If she found out who he was, what he’d done to her…

  He pulled harder on her hand and paced faster down the secret hallway running the length of the west wing.

  If she wanted a tour, he’d give her a damn tour. “I can’t believe a wom
an of your intelligence would be attracted to that.”

  She stopped in her tracks and his hand slipped from hers. “What do you think you’re doing? This is kidnapping. Are you planning on having your way with me? Raping me in the bowels of your dungeon?” She adjusted her ridiculous hair, ramming the dislodged strands back into the straight jacket of a bun he wanted to rip apart.

  He pressed his finger and thumb into his eye sockets. This was not in his plan for redemption. Messing with fire would only get him burned.

  “No, I’m not going to rape you. I’m saving you from that asshole.” Why, he didn’t know. Or maybe he did. Penance? He only knew he’d sensed every move she’d made since her arrival.

  And he didn’t like it. It was creepy and unacceptable.

  Christ, what was wrong with him? He dropped his hand. Had he gone too long without sex?

  “He was harmless. A prime specimen of narcissistic personality disorder. All you had to do was play along, and then go on your way.” She drew an alcohol wipe from her bag, tore it open and cleansed her hands. “Why would you even care whom I cavort with. I’m a grown, single woman. I can be with whomever I want.”

  Beck grabbed the offending thing and threw it to the ground. “Stop doing that. You’re going to get chapped.” He knew her. Somewhere deep in his soul. And it sucked.

  “I’m preventing illness.”

  “Let your damn immune system strengthen itself by exposing yourself to a few germs once in a while.”

  The woman frowned. Those pale green eyes bore into him like alien x-ray vision. “I was often sick as a child. I suppose a hardy immortal like you doesn’t ever worry about getting sick. You probably relish the thought of swapping germs.”

  Those full lips pouted adorably. He didn’t need adorable right now. And he also needed less of that magnificent rack being lifted as she crossed her arms underneath her breasts.

  Her hair followed the sexual assault and rebelliously burst free from its iron hold at the back of her head. Those fiery curls tumbling past her shoulders were his undoing. That, and the fact she inhaled sharply in surprise and ran her tongue nervously over her plush bottom lip, which drove him fucking nuts.

  “As a matter of fact, I do enjoy swapping germs. Right now, all I want to do is take that smart mouth of yours with mine and shove my tongue so far inside I get to lick and taste every part. I want to share every germ and fill you with everything I have.”

  “You do?” Those gorgeous, green eyes widened and her hands dropped to her sides. “I-I mean, you wouldn’t dare.”

  He smiled. “You shouldn’t have said that.”

  Beck grabbed her hands and pinned them against the stone wall next to her head, trapping her with his body. He stared into her eyes for a fraction of a second, deciding, fighting a primal urge to dominate this sassy, forbidden woman.

  He had no idea what the fuck had come over him since she’d arrived at the castle.

  And right now, he didn’t care.

  He lashed out with his tongue and tasted that pouty, lower lip. It was soft…and oh, so sweet.

  She sighed as her head dropped back against the wall, eyes closed.

  “You like that,” he taunted the little witch.

  “I…I’m not sure.” She opened one eye. “We might have to try it again. I don’t have much experience.”

  Oh yes, she was a sorceress.

  He growled, then took her mouth with a yearning he hadn’t felt in years. He’d teach her a lesson about being…being…so fucking enchanting.

  But it was she, in all her unconstrained innocence, that taught him. She pressed her 1940’s pin-up body against him and took charge of the kiss, nipping and nibbling his lips, sucking like he was a goddamn lollipop. What could she do with that mouth on his cock? He groaned. Her tongue danced and twined with his. Accepting everything he gave, she met him stroke for stroke.

  Who knew?

  He pressed his erection into her writhing hips. She was a torrid bundle of sensual discovery. A siren wired for sex.

  Beck pulled away before he took her right against the wall. He wasn’t that guy. Okay, he used to be, but she wasn’t that girl. He grabbed her hand and led her down the hallway toward his private room.

  Jude stumbled. “Wait, wait.” She let go of his hand and bent to massage her ankle.

  He grimaced as a lash of guilt swept through him and then lifted her into his arms. Her soft body pressed against his, was going to kill him.

  “Put me down. Where are we going?”

  “Someplace I can teach you a lesson about the art of restraint.”

  “I don’t want restraint.” Indignation sharpened her voice. “I want liberty!”

  “Yeah, well I have the feeling Mr. Fit ‘N’ Tan is not the kind of guy you want liberating you.” He caught her knowing smirk in his peripheral vision. “And neither am I.”

  He approached his suite door and placed her gently on her feet. She glanced down at his earnest erection, then lifted her eyes to his.

  “Ignore that.” He turned the key and then scooped her back into his arms, entering his lair.

  Six

  “Any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl, is simply not giving

  the kiss the attention it deserves.”

  Albert Einstein

  He’d hit him. He’d belted the poor, dumb bruiser like it had meant nothing at all.

  Except it did to her.

  Nobody had ever stood up for her. She’d always had to stand up for herself.

  Beast shed his Carhartt jacket, exposing an exquisitely sculpted body beneath a faded LA Dodgers T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Hard muscle flexed across his large shoulders as he arranged logs in the fireplace. The room was small, cold, and simplistic in function. Nothing like the luxurious rooms upstairs. A large bed, two, what looked to be nineteenth century leather rockers, and an end table. A beautiful, rustic wooden table sat in the center of the room, supported by twisted, gnarled tree limbs. It was provocative and beautiful, just like its owner.

  She shivered as he worked in complete silence. “That table is beautiful. Where did you get it? The patterns of the rings are stunning.”

  “I made it.”

  She jolted. He was an enigma. A talented, handsome, mysterious libertine. “I don’t even know your name.”

  He flinched.

  “I can’t keep calling you Beast and Count. It’s rather presumptuous.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, those golden eyes piercing her. “You’d be smart to keep considering me a monster. I’m not a good bet for whatever you’re up to.”

  Her lips twisted. Did he know what she had planned? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He stood, his eyes traversing her body as she sat on the bed, filling with interest as his gaze stilled on her bosom. She glanced down, expecting to find her clothes had surreptitiously fallen off.

  His eyes returned to hers. “I get the feeling you are up to no good. And, for some reason, I keep ending up in the position to set you straight.”

  “You had no reason to ‘set me straight’ today. I had complete control of the situation.”

  The Beast’s brows lowered. “Like last night when you propositioned me?”

  Her heart clenched and her spine tightened. Did she? Oh God, she didn’t remember. “I-I assumed that was what you were interested in when you approached me.”

  He shook his head and his beautiful lips lifted at the corners. “I don’t make a habit of taking advantage of drunk, distressed women.”

  “I’m not distressed,” she lied. “I may have been a tad bit intoxicated, but I’m hardly distressed.”

  The Beast laughed. It was a stunning sight. She couldn’t help but search out those canines just to be sure. Things in this castle all seemed so…strange.

  “Honey, you make a nun during Catholic school detention look like she’s channeling Richard Simmons.”

  She shot him a sneer, then stared down at her hands. Her ankl
e throbbed, but she couldn’t help the smile that crept over her lips. Her Beast had studied her well.

  He sat next to her on the bed, the heat from his body warming her.

  “Beckette. My name is Beckette.” He lifted her ankle onto his lap, removed her shoe, and ran his hand over the minor swelling that had started. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m a bastard and tend to hurt people when they get close. It’s my curse. That’s why I don’t do emotional attachments.” He smirked. “As if I were even capable.”

  Like finding two almonds in a bite-size Almond Joy, her future flashed brightly in her mind. Yes, he’d be the one.

  Her heart beat wildly as she reviewed the ramifications of what she wanted to do…seduce him. Seduce Beckette, The Beast, the man of mystery and beauty. She wanted this emotionally stunted, beautiful man to be the one to take her virginity, father her child…without him knowing, of course. She didn’t need a man. Not that he’d want her. He was a perfect stranger, never to be thought of again.

  She was ovulating. She’d always had her menses schedule plotted in her brain. Now all she had to do was get him to take her to bed.

  It was ludicrous. It was unethical. But she was desperate.

  Our little bundle of joy will be arriving in May!

  She pulled her foot from The Count’s lap, then stood and slid off her other shoe. She paced the small room without a limp. Her nerves had numbed the pain. He watched her, humor lighting his secretive eyes. This man was dangerous, hardened, disreputable. Perfect for an unscrupulous mission.

  But he was also smart. She needed to include that in her calculations.

  “I’m fine, really.” She stood with her back to him and covertly unbuttoned the top of her blouse. Cleavage. Men liked cleavage. She turned and tried to swing her hair in the sultry way women did. Her head thudded against a gourd lantern hanging from a shelf.

  Smooth.

  He leaned back on his hands and smirked, his eyes zeroing in on her burgeoning breasts. She had a good bosom, she’d been told. It’d be advantageous to use her positive attributes to the best of her ability.