The Cover Model

by Cheyenne Meadows

  "Fancy? Fancy?"

  Lifting her head, she spotted Molly waving at her from the corner of her table. Heading over, she graced the other woman with a small smile. "Good morning."

  "Oh, thank goodness. I need a huge favor! I've got to run to the bathroom and need someone to watch my table."

  Fancy blinked at the woman, her mouth falling open. "Watch the table? Me?"

  "Yes, you. I would ask Claire right there, but, as you can see, she's overwhelmed with customers. And I can't hold it any longer to wait for someone else."

  "But…"

  Molly sped off, not slowing to toss one final comment over her shoulder. "Everything's marked. I'll be right back." With that said, she disappeared from sight.

  Plopping down in the vacant seat, Fancy stared over the table, taking in a few quick facts. A price list sat to one side while another list of the colors and flavors sat to another. How hard could it be anyway?

  With no one at the table, she turned her attention across the room, taking in other vendors selling everything from books to key chains, T-shirts to bobblehead dolls. Though still early, people meandered around, more still filing in the main lobby doors usually in clusters of two or three. She could only imagine how packed the area would become by late morning or early afternoon.

  "Don't tell me. You have an obsession for penises?"

  Her head spun around so fast, her brain nearly rattled inside. Sure enough, she found a recently familiar voice standing a few feet away, loose sweats covering his bottom half while a matching royal blue sweatshirt completed his clothing. He grasped a towel in one hand, busily drying his damp black hair. Either he just came from the shower or a swim. Considering his attire and the time of day, she voted for the pool.

  His words replayed through her head, sending a wave of fire across her face. Sticking her nose in the air, she answered in her best haughty tone. "No. I just happen to be watching this table for a friend while she goes to the bathroom."

  "Uh-huh." His low baritone voice and twinkling deep sea blue eyes pricked a nerve.

  "I don't need a penis." When his eyebrow arched, she realized what she said. Hurriedly, she tried to correct her mistake. "I mean, I do just fine with my own plumbing. No extra parts needed." Exasperated and embarrassed, she prattled on, "I pee just fine."

  "You don't need a penis to play with?"

  "Nope. I play with myself just fine."

  Mitch threw back his head and laughed, big guffaws that drew the attention of those standing nearby.

  Just great. Now he thinks I'm a voyeur and into self-love. Could this day get any more mortifying?

  Her mouth slapped shut while a blowtorch blasted across her already burning face.

  Still chuckling, he placed both hands on the table, bracketing the rainbow layout of penis pacifiers and stared her in the eye. "It's much better when playing with someone else."

  She met his gaze unflinchingly, recognizing his teasing and opting to play along. For now. "Really? I think I would rather play hide and seek."

  Molly strode over, her head turning back and forth at a rapid pace.

  He grinned wickedly. "Hide the salami?"

  "No." She threw up her hands. "You hide and I choose not to seek!"

  "Baby, you don't know what you're missing." He winked at her.

  She snorted. "Actually, I do. Remember night before last? The hot monkey sex orgy? I had an unwanted front row seat. So thanks, but no thanks."

  Mitch shrugged. "Change your mind, you know where to find me. I'm Mitch, by the way."

  "I know."

  He blinked.

  She waved toward the tables stacked full of books. "You're on the front covers. Women know you on sight, drool over you, and fantasize being the heroine to your hero. Yeah, I've heard all about you in the couple of days I've been here." She rolled her eyes.

  "I see. And do you have a name besides Voyeur Wannabe?"

  Her mouth pursed in a frown. "If you must know, it's Fancy."

  "Fancy, huh? Unique and intriguing."

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she waited for more, expecting the usual teasing or play on her name, the various negative comments she'd heard over the years about her different name.

  When he said no more, she relaxed a hair. "Is that good?"

  His cobalt blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "Baby, knock on my door sometime, and I'll show you good."

  "I'm surprised you can fit in the elevator with such a huge ego."

  "That's not the only part of me that's huge." He waggled his eyebrows.

  "Oh good grief." She threw her hands up in the air. "Can't you think of anything besides your overused penis?"

  "Nope." With a final grin, he ambled down the hall toward the elevators.

  "Oh my."

  Fancy glanced up at Molly, immediately standing so the other woman could sit. "I didn't sell anything."

  The other woman waved her hand. "No biggie." She glanced at a retreating Mitch. "I can't believe the sparks flying."

  "What sparks?"

  "Between you and the hottest cover model around."

  Fancy blinked at Molly, completely dumbfounded. Maybe she slipped and hit her head on the toilet while in the bathroom? Spying no blood or signs of injury, she tossed out that idea. Perhaps the bleach fumes were too strong and affected the woman's perception?

  Molly looked at her and grinned slyly. "You don't get it, do you?"

  "Get what?"

  "It's going to be a good conference. Just you wait and see." With a pat on the arm, she shooed Fancy on her way. "Go get cleaned up. The sweaty and limp look isn't in this year."

  With a shake of her head, Fancy followed Molly's advice, walking down the hall, to the stairs, and trotting up them until she reached her floor. She needed a hot shower and possibly a nap. Afterward, she could finish the romance novel she'd started last night. If the sun peeked out from behind the clouds later, maybe she would take a small tour around the nearby scenery. If all else failed, she could wander around with dozens of others attending the convention in one of the conference rooms taking in a book signing. Maybe a seminar, a meet and greet, or even a costume party in the evening if she could beg a ticket. So much to do, so little time left on her vacation.

  * * * *

  Mitch sauntered down the hall, wrapping the damp towel around his shoulders, a persistent smile covering his face. Slipping his room key in the lock, he pushed the door open, shut and locked it behind him, then headed directly to the shower. He had thirty minutes to get the chlorine from the pool off his body, dressed, and ready for the photo shoot. Dropping the towel at the bathroom door, he twisted the faucet and stepped into the warm spray, letting the soothing water ease the small aches and pains from his morning workout as his mind wandered.

  I play with myself just fine. Her words replayed in his mind, turning his amusement once more to chuckles. Little Miss Prim and Proper proved entertaining all right. Combine her silliness in the teasing, innuendo-laden discussion, and the shock written on her face when she realized exactly what she said, and she made for a woman who garnered his interest.

  He'd been with a number of women, all more experienced and worldly compared to the little blonde that inhabited the room next to his, if her words and reactions were true. Some were drop dead gorgeous. A couple graced the cover of magazines, and one even landed the prestigious centerfold of a particular magazine favorite of men. Yet, he had to give Fancy credit. She possessed wit, spunk, and an ass that made him long to cup it in his hands and squeeze. He longed to explore every inch of her curvy body with his mouth and hands, before flipping her over to her hands and knees, raising that delicious rear in the air, covering her body with his own, then driving deep as she mewed and begged for more. His cock hardened painfully, throbbing with immediate need.

  What in the world am I thinking? He could have any number of women attending the conference. Hell, Tasha would surely be up for another hard ride or three. Yet here he stood in the shower thinking abo
ut a woman with a sharp tongue, a propensity for nagging, and an obnoxious, uptight manner. If that weren't bad enough, she dared to bang on his door at night and serve him a righteous tongue-lashing for engaging in moral sin loud enough to keep her from sleep. Instead of pissing him off, he found her oddly entertaining and easy on the eyes, prompting a daydream that could easily turn into a wet dream for the upcoming night.

  All I need now is to have my head examined.

  With an exasperated sigh, he stuck his head under the spray and pushed all thoughts from his mind.

  Chapter 6

  Finally! Darla stepped off the elevator and headed straight for the main lobby, eager to begin her convention experience. She'd dreamed of this for oh so long, attending a romance novel get-together, seeing the authors, entering in the fun. But more than that, she intended to meet the man of her dreams. Mitch Jameson, cover model extraordinaire.

  Her heart sped at the visual image of him. His athletic build, large frame, and handsome face made for a perfect male physical specimen, thus the number of book covers that sported his image. She knew because she had each and every one. Add in a few posters and every magazine article about him and she fell into the category of Mitch's biggest fan, a role she took seriously.

  Just as seriously as she intended to not only meet him this year but spend time with him. The convention would be a complete failure if her dream fell through. No. She'd waited way too long for this. Failure wasn't an option. Whatever it took, she'd ensure Mitch would see her, speak with her, dance with her, maybe even more.

  An excited shiver coursed through her body. Oh, to have Mitch in her bed…

  She stopped abruptly as she nearly plowed into a mass of humanity, mostly women, all standing in line to look at tables of wares, books, and other miscellaneous items. A quiet roar carried through the entire room as at least one hundred people stood talking, looking, and browsing.

  Impatient, Darla waited until she could squeeze closer. Spying a book, she stood on tiptoe to peek over another woman's shoulder. Sure enough, another picture of Mitch, this one minus his shirt, giving everyone a full view of his wide chest and glorious six pack abs. Without hesitation, she snaked her arm through, grabbed up the paperback, and checked out the title. Once she decided her collection didn't include this particular novel, she dug money from her purse and handed the greenbacks over.

  As soon as the woman gave her a bag, she dropped her latest treasure inside, and continued snail-like down the line until she found the station with the list of activities for the convention. Grabbing up a copy, she quickly scanned the paper, found out the models would be attending every evening party, and smiled widely.

  Mitch Jameson, you're going to be mine.

  Chapter 7

  Hearing the door next to hers open and shut, Fancy glanced up from her book in interest. Mitch had either slipped out again or he had another visitor. In most cases, the fact wouldn't raise eyebrows, but since this was the third time the door had opened and shut in the past thirty minutes, she couldn't help but notice and wonder what went on a few inches away from where she presently sat.

  After the first night's orgy, did she really have to wonder?

  With a resigned sigh, she tried to focus once more on her new book, determined to ignore any and all goings-on.

  A loud bark of laughter and peals of giggles carried through the wall, pricking her already irritable nerves. Grumbling, she returned to her reading.

  Loud tapping on a nearby door broke through her concentration once more. Setting the book aside, she climbed off the bed, opened her door, and peer into the hallway.

  Sure enough, three young and pretty women stood at Mitch's door. Two wore short shorts and the third a sundress. All appeared made up and ready for an afternoon of delights.

  "Why on earth did I have to have the room next to the sex maniac?" Fancy muttered under her breath, still standing in the hall.

  The door opened. An all too familiar woman greeted the others and waved them in.

  Pocahontas. In a white chemise.

  Just great. She planned on spending a lazy afternoon absorbed in an adult fairy tale, reading of adventure, love, and sizzling sex, only to have the real thing going on next door. One orgy was more than enough for this trip.

  Ire shot to the fore. Enough was enough. She deserved peace and tranquility after working her butt off for the past few weeks. Purposely, she skipped out on the presentations today to enjoy a day to herself, relaxing and enjoying some much deserved downtime. Now, the orgy had returned to invade her quiet time once more.

  No way.

  Ignoring conventional manners, she stomped to the next door, opened it, and stormed inside. A handful of women stood around, all in various states of undress. Mitch, the only male in the room, kneeled on the bed, nude except for a funky pair of green tights with a prominent, unnatural bulge in the front. His arms wrapped around a topless Pocahontas, his hands covering the tips of her heavy endowments.

  A porn flick? Oh my god.

  Amazed shock sent the words tumbling out of her mouth, full of pent-up anger and contempt. "It's one thing to listen to you engage in wild animal sex all night long. It's another to shoot a sordid porn flick here. This is where I draw the line!"

  Everyone stopped, turned their heads, and stared at her with their mouths gaping open.

  "Who, pray tell, are you?" A tall brunette dressed in jeans and a blouse lowered her camera and glared.

  "Next door neighbor to the sex addict." Fancy pointed to Mitch.

  "Oh, hell." The male voice carried easily across the room.

  "You know her?" The photographer asked.

  "Yeah, we've met." He stared at her, those deep blue eyes locking onto her gaze and refusing to let go.

  "I'm not a voyeur, damn it." Ohhh. The pervert has me cussing now. Something she rarely did, especially in public.

  His eyebrows shot up. Feminine chuckles sounded in the room.

  "That's debatable," he muttered loud enough for her to hear.

  "Look, Miss I'm Not a Voyeur. I'm on a strict deadline for this photo shoot." The photographer's face furrowed in annoyance. "If you don't mind, I would really like to finish here and be done."

  Photo shoot? Model plus photo equals romance book covers.

  Fancy's face burned like fresh asphalt on a hot summer's day as the puzzle piece shifted into place. "Oh." She blinked and glimpsed the haughty grin on Mitch's face. The ape reveled in her embarrassment. She hoped someone starched his underwear in the next washing. Twice. Or better yet, tie the laces of his codpiece in tight knots.

  Codpiece? She blinked and stared at the prominent material covering his groin, her mouth gaping open in amazement.

  "Yes, photo shoot. You know. Pirate and the captive." The photographer waved at the couple. "If we don't get back to work, there'll be a definite shortage of pirate book covers this season."

  "Pirate? As in eye patch, talking parrot, and a wooden leg?"

  Mitch snorted. "Plundering and stealing the virtues of fair maidens." He grinned wickedly at Pocahontas who giggled in return.

  Women lusted after pirates? Men who sailed the high seas and didn't bathe for weeks? Who hunted other water vessels, killing crews, and stealing their loot? What about scurvy and lice? Her mind whirled with amazement, comparing the realities of the occupation to the obvious fantasy version, which romance readers seemed to seek out.

  The dark-haired female model ran her hands over Mitch's belly, her fingers dipping beneath the snug cloth, disappearing behind the thick codpiece before returning to his shoulders. She smiled widely and winked at him.

  "More like yo ho…" Fancy mumbled under her breath, glaring at the beautiful woman shifting in Mitch's arms, leaning into his powerful chest, resting her raven head on his shoulder as he placed kisses along her shoulder and throat.

  Her stomach turned as the green-eyed monster called jealousy reared his ugly head. Shaking her head, she threw the negative emotion away.

 
; "Focus, people. I have to be done in a few minutes."

  "Yeah, I have to make an appearance at the party tonight, too," Mitch chimed in as he climbed off the bed and stood beside it.

  "What's tonight's theme?" A girl with long red hair and dressed in a long white satin gown asked.

  "Paranormal," answered another girl, this one in a low cut fluffy blouse and skin-tight shorts that barely covered the essentials.

  "Ohh. Vampires. Shapeshifters. Ghosts."

  "Wicked. I can't wait."

  Vampires? Shapeshifters? Ghosts? Fancy blinked in bewilderment. She thought pirates pushed the line, making for a marginal hero to read about. Now to hear women also lusted after and fantasized about ghosts blew her mind. Truly, she missed some important detail. Heck, she missed the whole seminar. After all, she found nothing particularly sexy about a man who sucks your blood, an entity you can't see, or a human/animal cross who brings home dinner clamped between his jaws with the bone in, blood covering his face, and the hide still on. Icky.

  "I don't get it."

  As a group, the women turned and stared at her with open mouths and shocked expressions on their faces.

  "What's not to get? Vampires and shifters are damn hot." This from the redhead. "All those alpha males." She licked her lips.

  A petite brunette spoke up. "A sexy vampire who wants to turn you and spend eternity together. Yum."

  Fancy shook her head. The thought of sucking on another person's neck left her repulsed. What about personal hygiene? Bacteria present on the skin? Disease? She crinkled her nose. Eternity? They wanted to spend centuries with an arrogant fang-wielding man who could read minds and erase memories? From what she recalled of history, Dracula wasn't a sociable, polite man big on the rights of women. In fact, most would label him cruel and barbaric. Yet here stood some beautiful women who wanted to live by his side for thousands of years. For the life of her, she couldn't grasp their rationale. Definitely no accounting for taste.

  Personally, she didn't think she could tolerate living with a man for a decade, let alone a century, after seeing what many of her friends experienced. What began with happiness and overflowing love soon turned to continuous bouts of bickering, arguments, and downright anger. Some men cheated. Others grew lazy and apathetic. One even labeled his wife too busy to give him the attention he deserved after delivering twins and returning to work full-time. None of those examples encouraged Fancy that a lifetime with even the love of her life would be possible.