The Cover Model
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Note from the Publisher
Dedication
Trademarks Acknowledgement
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
About the Author
Titles by Cheyenne Meadows
Reviews
A Silver Publishing Book
The Cover Model
Copyright © 2013 by Cheyenne Meadows
E-book ISBN: 9781622321315
First E-book Publication: February 2014
Cover design by Reese Dante
Editor: Jason Huffman
Logo copyright © 2012 by Silver Publishing
Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.
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All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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This book is written in US English.
PUBLISHER
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Note from the Publisher
Dear Reader,
Thank you for your purchase of this title. The authors and staff of Silver Publishing hope you enjoy this read and that we will have a long and happy association together.
Please remember that the only money authors make from writing comes from the sales of their books. If you like their work, spread the word and tell others about the books, but please refrain from sharing this book in any form. Authors depend on sales and sales only to support their families.
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Thank you for not pirating our titles.
Lodewyk Deysel
Publisher
Silver Publishing
http://www.spsilverpublishing.com
Dedication
For Edward, who's a wonderful sounding board, a great friend, and always willing to nudge me along with suggestions.
For Tiffany. Thanks for everything.
For my parents who have been nothing but supportive in this venture. No matter what I write you hold your heads proud. That means the world.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
007: Danjaq, LLC
Charlie's Angels: Columbia Pictures Industries, Inc.
Energizer: Eveready Battery Company, Inc.
PowerPoint: Microsoft Corporation
Superman: DC Comics E.C. Publications, Inc.
Twilight Zone: CBS Broadcasting Inc.
Chapter 1
Fancy climbed under the warm covers, tucking the thick comforter around her chilled feet before rolling to her side. Releasing a weary sigh mixed with relief, she adjusted her pillow, closed her eyes and relaxed.
Finally. After two long weeks of endless days, she could sleep for a full night without having to get up at the crack of dawn. A blessing in her book.
After her supervisor dropped the bombshell on her a month ago, that she would not only have to attend this quarterly meeting in Seattle but also present their latest research findings, Fancy's life had immediately shifted from fast to warp speed. Her daily workload remained unchanged, but she had the additional project dumped in her lap, leading to a data collection, presentation preparation, and a last minute research tweaking marathon, the excruciating pace similar to the twenty-six mile run with a sprint at the finish.
Inhaling a deep breath, she pushed the recent happenings out of her thoughts, focusing on the present. Sleep tonight. Spend a few hours in a boring meeting in the morning. Present just before noon. Hit the spa at three. Then she could rest and relax for the remainder of the week, taking in presentations as she wanted, shopping and hanging out around the pool in between.
Thud.
Cracking one eye open, she quickly scanned her hotel room, finding nothing amiss. Must be another patron moving furniture around in the next room. With the explanation, she settled back in to the soft mattress.
Thump. Thump. Thud.
A deep groan and high-pitched blasting wail followed.
Irritation shot to the fore as the annoying noises continued a few inches from her head. Sitting up, she glared at the wall, as if the responsibility lay within the thin barrier.
Bang. Thump. Thump. The sounds grew louder as did the feminine squeals.
It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize the issue. Someone in the room next to hers enjoyed a session of mattress dancing.
A short scream carried easily to her ears before the sound became muffled.
A particularly loud and enthusiastic bout of mattress dancing.
Puffing out a breath, she flipped over, closed her eyes, and tried to ignore the hot monkey sex happening a few feet away. Seizing control of her escalating temper, she consoled herself with rational facts. How long could it last anyway? More than likely her precious silence would resume in five minutes or less. Until then, she would just burrow into her nest and think about something else. Anything else.
More moaning and a harsh male bark rattled her precarious hold on quickly rising anger. Staring at the clock, she watched and waited, knowing the session would end soon. It better.
Ten minutes passed, and still the carnal sounds continued. Grasping the sheet tightly in her fists, Fancy fought the urge to throttle Superman. After all, a common man wouldn't last that long. No way. Most were in and out in less than three minutes, rolling over and snoring before the woman could ask who got to sleep in the wet spot for the night.
Another minute crawled by with no lessening to the racket.
Either Superman really did hang out next door or he brought a few friends to play with. An orgy? She blinked at the astonishing realization.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Sitting up, Fancy threw the covers aside. It was one thing to lay there and l
isten to wild monkey sex. Another to have the dang bed smacking into the wall, sounding like a demolition hammer tearing through wood and sheetrock.
That's it. Orgy or not, she wasn't about to stand any more interruption to her much deserved sleep. All her time, effort, and sweat over the past weeks would be wasted if she flopped on her presentation due to exhaustion and lack of shut-eye the night before. No Energizer sex rabbits would interfere with her biggest career honor yet.
Slipping on her house shoes, she marched to her hotel room door, threw the bolt, then stormed to the room directly to her south. Absently noting the number posted on the door, she knocked politely, trying mightily not to disturb other hotel guests who might be trying to get some rest. She tapped her knuckles again. Twice. Three times.
When no one answered, she curled her fingers into a fist and beat on the wooden door so hard the frame trembled. "Open up!" The wooden barrier stood as before, closed to her.
Sucking in a breath, she doubled her efforts, putting all her strength behind the blows. "I know orgies are illegal in this state. I demand you cease and desist at once, or I'll call the manager and the police," Fancy bluffed. Whether orgies actually crossed the legal line, she had no clue, but if it earned her some quiet, she would lie like the devil.
The door jerked open revealing a tall dark-haired man who scowled down at her, his body nude except for a white towel wrapped around his hips. In the background, a raven-haired woman scurried naked across the room.
"What in the hell is your problem?" His voice boomed in anger.
Undaunted, she fired back. "Listen, Stud Muffin. I'm exhausted and have a very important presentation in the morning, requiring sleep tonight. So why don't you, Pocahontas, and the rest of the tribe take the party somewhere else, call it a night, or invest in some gags?"
He crossed his arms over a broad and nearly hairless chest. The action drew attention to the bulging muscles in his arms and prominent pecs topped with dusky hued nipples. "There's no fucking orgy here." Annoyance laced heavily in his tone.
She ignored the literal and blatant double innuendo. "There has to be. I've listened to the sounds of heavy coitus in progress for a good fifteen minutes. The average man lasts approximately four or five minutes even at a leisurely pace."
"Baby, I'm not an average man." The low baritone timbre flowed over her like hot chocolate syrup over an ice cream sundae. Gone was the irritation, only to be replaced with seductive smoothness. His gaze slowly lowered over her body before returning to her face.
For the first time, she really looked at the male specimen before her. Short black hair topped his head, a good foot above hers. Piercing deep blue eyes the color of a stormy ocean sparked lazily with amusement and hinted at something more. Afraid to linger, she raked over him with an observant gaze. A strong jaw shouted stubbornness while the dimple in his chin softened the severe angles. Long fingers folded under his crossed arms. Collarbones blended shoulders into chest, a rolling area of muscle and smooth, tanned skin. Darker nipples topped prominent pecs. Six pack abs showed little body fat, excellent conditioning, and a familiarity with exercise. Dark hairs lined from his belly button downward, disappearing beneath the white terry cloth towel, which tented intriguingly. Her face heated.
"No matter." She waved her hand to dismiss the awkward topic at hand.
"How do you know it's been fifteen minutes?" He arched an eyebrow at her.
Her face scrunched in agitation. "Weren't you paying attention? I'm in the next room, just on the other side of this wall." She pointed with her right hand. "Which is thin enough to allow the noise you're making to travel through to my side. Not to mention the headboard banging against the same wall at the level of my head." Dumb as a box of drill bits. All they knew was screwing. She blinked at her own bad pun and gathered up steam for another lecture.
He smirked in obvious amusement.
Another flare of anger brewed over the boiling cauldron. "What's so funny?"
"You're a voyeur." The words slipped out of his mouth soft and smooth, like fine wine after dinner.
Voyeur? Me? She half-choked and stuttered, trying to clear the blockage of her own saliva. "What?" Her voice cracked on a squeak. Sucking in air, she tried again. "Why do you think that?"
"I don't know. Listening to others have sex and timing the act…" He shrugged.
"What? I'm not a voyeur!"
A door creaked to her left. Glancing over, she found an older bald-headed man peering out the door and staring straight at her. Her face burned like a lit match.
"What else would you call it?" A slow wicked grin appeared on the troublemaker's face, full of challenge and self-confidence. Talk about arrogance in spades. His gaze locked with hers, twinkling with sensual humor. His tightened jaw told her he stubbornly refused to give ground on a topic he appeared an expert in.
"I am not!"
"You're the one standing here confessing to eavesdropping through the wall on my sexual activities."
Ohhhhh. Dang horny toad! She threw up her arms in frustration. "Here's a novel idea. Ejaculate already and curl up with Pocahontas for a nice long nap. Can you manage that?"
The corners of his mouth twitched. "In due time."
Argh! Spinning on her heel, she stormed back to her room and slammed the door shut behind her.
Chapter 2
Mitch shook his head at the back of the retreating woman, an amused smile on his face. He hadn't seen a woman dressed in a nightgown from neck to ankles since the age of five when his family spent Christmas Eve with relatives. Full of excitement over the arrival of Santa Claus, the kids woke the adults early, tugging them all to the living room still dressed in their night clothes. Not since his elderly grandmother had a woman worn such a severe garment in his viewing.
The woman's pinkened cheeks from embarrassment and anger flashed into his mind along with the flares of outrage and appreciation in her hazel eyes. Her mortification when the other guest caught her defending the voyeur label. He could have argued that particular topic for a while longer, digging through her top outermost layers to the deep core, discovering hidden feminine secrets she probably never put to words in her life.
He glimpsed something in her rapt appraisal of him that told an intriguing story. With years of practice with the opposite sex, he felt confident in his judge of character and observation skills of the fairer sex. Unless he completely missed his guess, passion burned deep inside her frigid layers despite her outward appearances.
Fiery. The word fit her well. Daring to pound on his door and demand he abandon his pleasures with a passionate woman in order to allow for some quiet time. Not many would have been so bold.
She didn't mention a man or wear a wedding ring that he noticed. Combine that with the flush on her cheeks and crack in her voice when he called her a voyeur and the facts pointed toward a wallflower.
Not necessarily the turn-off most thought. Wallflowers held their own appeal. While lacking the flashiness and flirtatiousness of the more experienced lovers, they provided their own twist to a romantic liaison.
Perhaps no man bothered to coax out the hidden desires thus far. If one took the time to do so, he would cherish her and thank his lucky stars to have found a spirited woman that could set his bed sheets on fire. With a bit of effort, such a woman could blossom from bud to vibrant rose.
Until her loose tongue started firing insults his direction.
A chuckle rose from his chest as he recalled her petty argument and proper terminology. Others would call him a bastard along with a few other choice four letter words for disturbing their sleep. This one flung out facts and reasons along with some mild derision. In all his years, he couldn't recall being called a stud muffin in scorn.
Odd but interesting.
If he hadn't been already aroused, jousting with her in the silly argument would have sparked definite responses in his highly revved libido. Too bad his stay would only last a few more days. Otherwise, he might pursue Miss Dignity and dis
cover what lay hidden beneath that white cotton gown.
"Coming back to bed?" Tasha cooed to him from across the room.
With a final glance toward the woman's closed door, he stepped back and shut his own, taking a moment to reset the chain and lock. Spinning around, he stared at the glorious beauty of his present lover. Bountiful breasts tipped with raspberry nipples begged him to taste. Long, lean legs added feminine curves along with a perky rear that fit just right in his grasp. As he watched, Tasha parted her legs, using one finger to trace lightly over her promised land, opening the pink folds in eager invitation.
"I need you."
Reaching down, he yanked off the towel, his engorged cock bouncing with the movement. Stalking to the bed, he enveloped her in his arms, sealing his mouth over hers.
Who needed a cute, little, shy kitten when he had a sexy tigress ready and waiting in his bed?
Chapter 3
Just before eight am, Fancy stepped off the elevator on her way through the lobby to a smaller conference room on the opposite side of the hotel. Two steps found her staring at a mass of humanity dominated by women. Some stood in lines waiting to enter the main auditorium, others mingled around tables and booths, stationed shoulder to shoulder around the edges of the front entrance area.
'Romance Book Convention', a large banner displayed over the open double doors announced.
Romance books? She blinked and stared transfixed at the controlled chaos before her. A table to her left held tall stacks of paperback books with cardboard boxes stashed underneath. The next vendor proudly displayed books for sale, neatly organized in a metal turn-a-round. Pairs and groupings of women chatted away, speaking with the sales people, conversing with friends, all laughing and smiling in obvious happiness.
Shaking her head, Fancy walked into the busy area, intent upon making her way through as quickly as possible in order to arrive at her destination with plenty of time to spare. Her laptop, tucked away in a carry bag, contained her PowerPoint presentation representing hours of work on her part and a year's worth of research on behalf of the laboratory she worked for. All she needed to do was get the room set up, plug in the computer to the overhead, and do a quick trial run. Afterward, she would have a few minutes to battle jitters as the other meeting attendees trickled in, a few other presenters would take their turn, then she would be on.