The Cover Model

by Cheyenne Meadows

  He smiled in return, working to set the hook deeper. Leaning in, he sniffed at her ear. "You smell delicious." A pungent smell of alcohol permeated her breath and clothing, proof she partook in a few rounds at Happy Hour already this evening. With any luck, the intoxicating brew would lower her inhibitions, easing the amount of work he needed to do in order to complete his goal.

  "It's my perfume. Enchanted Evening."

  "It's perfect." He flicked his tongue over her earlobe and nuzzled her cheek.

  "Mmmm." She sidled closer.

  "Hey! Horn dog! I thought this was our night!" Fancy protested from his other side, a severe frown marring her pretty face. A crimson stain of anger flashed across her cheeks.

  He understood her upset and much preferred the fiery emotion than her to sulk or deflate in defeat. Bear with me, Fancy. Please. Glancing over, he grinned at her.

  "No worries. There's enough of me to go around." With a wink, he turned his attention back to Darla, nuzzling her cheek and setting his lips against the soft skin of her throat.

  Darla melted into him, closing her eyes.

  "Wait. Let me get this down." Jane tugged her purse open, dragging out a notebook and a pen. "This will make a great scene." She started scribbling madly.

  Wrapping his arms around Darla, he pulled her into his embrace and sealed his lips over hers. She responded immediately, aggressively taking the lead on the kiss, opening her mouth and pushing her tongue into his mouth, plundering deeply. He groaned and responded, sliding his palm over the tops of her cleavage before dipping under the material, cupping a bare breast in his hand and feeling the nipple pebble under his palm. Judging from her response, she was fast on her way to being play dough in his hands.

  Keep the act up a little longer. Push her into thinking you're so hot and heavy for her that you can't keep your hands off her and her assets for another minute. Hell, if he had to shed some clothes in the elevator, so be it. Anything to keep her lust-filled brain focused on him until they could get out of the elevator and into her hotel room.

  Then, he would figure out some way to escape, track down Fancy, and plead for understanding.

  "That's just great. This is my big night, and I'm stuck in an elevator. My date is groping another woman and checking her tonsils. They're probably going to strip naked and have sex right here, too. Meanwhile, author extraordinaire here, is busy taking notes for her next book." Fancy's cranky tone sent a wave of amusement through him despite the circumstances.

  Breaking the lip lock, he peppered kisses over Darla's jaw. "You won't mind, being a voyeur and all."

  Darla tugged her bodice down, grabbed his head, and pulled him to her newly exposed breasts, whispering at him to lick over the rosy tips. He practiced restraint, teasing and tempting, pressing her for more passionate responses without giving much in return while keeping an eye on the other occupants, especially the wallflower that presently held his true attention.

  "I'm not a voyeur, you lust-driven dimwit." Fancy huffed and scooted over, putting distance between them.

  Jane looked down at her with a sympathetic expression. "Men are scoundrels."

  Fancy nodded. "Not worth spitting on."

  The elevator dinged happily, and both doors opened as normal.

  Fancy leaped to her feet and helped Jane up. Both stared at him as Darla quickly covered herself.

  "A pleasure, Mitch." Jane waved at him with a silly grin on her face.

  Fancy glared and stormed out, rage evident in every stiff movement.

  His gut clenched in guilt.

  "Your room or mine?" Darla asked.

  He pasted a sultry smile on his face and nipped at her exposed collarbone. "Let's make it yours." Standing up, he held a hand out to Darla. Once she stood on her feet, he wrapped an arm about her waist and let her lead the way.

  Ten minutes later, he struggled to come up with an excuse, any excuse to dash off before she pushed their interlude past third base. As much as he wanted to claim impotence for the first time in his life, his traitorous cock standing at attention would prove the words a lie, and as long as she continued to provide stimulation to that particular part of his body, his erection wouldn't fade. He shuddered at the idea of not being able to get it up but would have eagerly traded just about anything for the blameless excuse right now. Instead, he kissed and touched, doing his damnedest to avoid the juncture between her legs, not wanting to press his luck or take a chance on her getting the wrong idea.

  What wrong idea, you stupid bastard? You've done everything but invite her to jump on board for a ride on the Mitch express.

  Never had he been so desperate to climb from a woman's embrace, especially before they consummated the act. Even in college, when a night of drinking led to some mighty awkward moments the next morning, he had never had the overwhelming urge to flee like he was having right now. The woman turned his stomach, yet he couldn't seem to break out of the role he'd cast himself in.

  Cussing under his breath, he closed his eyes and struggled to find a way out of this erotic mayhem without alerting her to his undercover status. Besides, he really didn't want to piss off a potentially unbalanced rich woman with ties to some nasty people. Bad things could happen. He liked life, thus kept the kisses and touches light, hoping she'd grow bored or frustrated and kick him out. Yeah, right. Like his luck ran in that direction lately.

  A polite knock sounded at the door.

  Darla ignored it, busily wrapping her red painted lips around his cock, lashing her tongue over the sensitive tip. He jerked in response to the harsh and slightly painful treatment. Shit. Answer the door already, woman.

  The tapping came again and soon turned into heavy banging.

  "You better get that," he mumbled between clenched teeth, "before the neighbors start complaining."

  She released him with a frustrated growl. "Whoever it is better have a damn good reason…" Marching over to the door, she yanked it open. "What do you want?"

  Whoever interrupted them, he owed a big favor. Seizing the opportunity, Mitch yanked his boxers and pants back up. Checking to make sure his wallet remained in his back pocket, he stood beside the bed and bided his time to make a hasty exit straight for his room and a blistering hot shower.

  "I felt it my obligation to inform you about this man. He's a bounder. A sex fiend. All he cares about is getting his jollies with no thoughts to commitment or marriage."

  His lips twitched at Fancy's familiar voice and words. Leave it to her to come to his rescue by warning a hot-to-trot woman of his less than honorable intentions. Where she came up with such crap, he'd never know, but this once, he wouldn't complain.

  "Yeah, well, that's perfectly fine with me."

  "Don't you see? He's a gigolo. All he wants is to do naughty things to you. Maybe even kinky stunts."

  "Don't you see? I want him to do those things to me!" Darla's tone grew in exasperation.

  A pregnant pause followed.

  He could almost see Fancy's mouth opening and closing like a fish.

  "You want a one-night stand?"

  "I'm not after a wedding ring, you dufus."

  "Dufus? You call me a dufus for taking the time to warn you about a man just after you for a quick roll in the hay?" The question ended on a high note.

  "It's called modern times, prude. You're so far behind, the rest of the world has lapped you already." Darla's tone carried a bite.

  "I'm not prude."

  "I call it like it is."

  "Well, then that makes you a slut."

  Mitch bit back a chuckle at the petty argument over him. While the bickering stroked his ego, it also added another notch to his belief that women were crazy.

  "He's mine, and I'm not about to share him. So go find your own man before I call security!"

  Slamming the door shut, Darla spun around. Her gaze locked on his chest, then flew up to his face. Her mouth fell open. "Where are you going?"

  "Sorry. Nosey body ruined my appetite." He schooled a s
erious expression on his face, struggling to avoid showing the amusement he felt with the ridiculous situation.

  "Prim and proper turned you off?" She stepped closer, resting her hands on the warm skin of his chest. "Don't worry. I'll turn you on again. Fast."

  He bracketed her wrists and pushed them away. "Sorry, Darla. I've lost the mood. Maybe some other time." Without waiting for an answer, he brushed past her, heading straight for the door.

  "Just out of curiosity, why in the world would you take her to the party tonight?"

  Pausing, he turned to stare at the redhead, shooting her a boyish grin. He shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

  Any other time, he would jump back in her bed and spend the night discovering all the ways to make her scream in pleasure. If she wasn't a low-life criminal and if he didn't have a fiery, yet cute blonde to track down. He needed to explain his lewd behavior, thank her for her timely assist, and hope she decided to give him a second chance.

  Turning on his heel, he stepped into the hallway and shut the door soundly behind him.

  First, a shower. Then Operation Forgiveness.

  Chapter 12

  Darla flung a throw pillow across the room, furious over the twit's intervention, which led to the end of her time with Mitch. Her one chance with the man of her dreams, and some prim and proper idiot bumbled in, warning her about his nefarious ideas. Right afterwards, Mitch dashes off as if he couldn't get away soon enough.

  "Damn him." She would never have another opportunity like that one, not to have Mitch in her bed and living out her secret fantasies.

  Or would she? Ideas began to flow, ways and means to ensure her night of bliss with the hunky cover model would happen.

  Tapping a finger on her lips, she plopped down on the bed and thought. As fast as he had scooted out, she would be unlikely able to draw him back with promises of hot and heavy sex. No. She would have to come up with something better. Something foolproof.

  Bending over, she dug through her suitcase until her fingers bumped the object she searched for. Pulling the item out, she held it up.

  All she had to do was track Mitch down in his room when he was alone. With a gun pointed his direction, he would obey her every whim, even tying himself to the bed. After he secured himself well, she would have hours and hours to play out all her dreams.

  "He may balk at the beginning, but once I get his lovely cock in hand, he'll beg for anything and everything."

  For the first time since he had left, a smile appeared on her face. "I'll have him just where I want him."

  What about the infuriating school marm?

  She considered the other woman for a long moment. If she dared to return, things could get complicated. If all else failed, she could tie her up as well. Dispose of her later.

  Teach her to try to take my man away.

  Hopping up, she hurried to get dressed, solidifying her plans as she zipped here and there, collecting her belongings. Instinct and fury prompted her to pack her bag and move to another hotel. Make Mitch think she'd checked out or even disappeared. Give him time to lower his guard. Besides, she needed to swing by a certain sex shop across town that specialized in bondage supplies. She'd also stop by the front desk, find out which room Mitch inhabited for the duration of the convention. They certainly wouldn't hand over a key, and they might not even give her the information she wanted, but she had other ways. More devious ways. If push came to shove, she could hack into their guest registry and lift the keys from a distracted maid. Desperate times called for desperate measures. She'd pull out all the stops in order to make this work.

  One way or another, she was going to have the night of her life in Mitch's arms.

  Chapter 13

  Tucking his long sleeved black T-shirt into his jeans, Mitch gathered up his room key and headed next door. After thoroughly scrubbing himself in the shower and brushing his teeth to expel the last of Darla's touch and taste, he prepared himself to track down Fancy. A hurt and angry Fancy.

  Yanking out his cell phone, he chatted briefly with his contact, describing Darla/Donna, reporting her room number, and tossing in any further details he could recall. The man assured him he'd take the matter from there and thanked him for a job well done.

  Mitch locked his room, then walked one door down and paused. Leaning his ear against the hotel door, he listened for sounds of movement inside. Finding none, he knocked. Silence greeted him. Spinning on his heel, he tapped his chin for a moment and considered where she might be. He didn't hear the shower running through the thin walls between their rooms, yet, he couldn't see her bouncing back downstairs to attend the party after he callously stomped on her feelings, though for a good reason. Not with the fury radiating off her from his behavior. That left a couple of options. Either she had holed up in her room after all and ignored the world or she'd headed to the workout room to banish some stress. Sure, she could have opted for a night on the town, but she didn't seem the sort who would go bar hopping in search of hard liquor or a man. Nope. He would place his bets on the small gym in the basement of the hotel. Long steps ate the distance to the elevator as he readied himself for the difficult discussion to come.

  Tugging the glass door open, he stepped into the room, releasing a sigh of relief when his gaze landed on Fancy busily running on the farthest treadmill, her feet flying over the black belt in a statement of grace and athleticism. Clean, lithe lines of her conditioned body flowed fluently with easy movement, a testimony to natural ability and balance. The long blonde ponytail swayed with each movement, like the mane and tail on a palomino horse racing across the open land, running free. Her face, though, told another story. Simmering rage. Pain. Disappointment.

  Steeling himself, he walked over, watching her closely. He prided himself on accurate body language interpretation and hoped the skill would prove handy as he tried to wiggle off the hook as the worm she more than likely considered him now for promising to take her to the dance, then coming on strong with another woman in the elevator to the point of leaving with her. Granted, he had a legitimate excuse, but she didn't know that, and he wasn't sure she would believe him even if he explained.

  He stopped beside the machine, standing quiet for a long moment. Her gaze flicked to him before returning straight ahead once more.

  "Fancy. Let me explain."

  She blatantly ignored him, her feet pounding out a fast rhythm, the only sound in the room along with her heavy breathing.

  "I'm sorry. There are reasons behind what happened. Reasons I can't explain right now…" He shoved one hand through his hair in a combing motion. "Just listen to me first. Then you can chew on my ass all you want."

  For a long moment, he waited. Right when he decided she intended to pretend he no longer existed on this earth, she reached out, slowed the treadmill, until coming to a complete stop. Grabbing the towel, she wiped her face, finally looking at him for more than a fleeting second.

  "Fine. I'll listen. But you should know I'm not in a mood to believe anything you say. As it looks to me, you're a sex maniac who can't get enough women in his life."

  He flinched but didn't bother to correct her thinking. After all, he lived the life of a playboy, especially at the convention. Hard not to when dozens of women cooed, flirted, and maneuvered themselves into his line of vision, offering up a night of passion with no strings attached. A man's dream come true.

  The challenge tossed out, he focused on the rest of her words and seized the opportunity to convince her of the truth without spilling the beans about his ulterior motives. Seeing her like a difficult jury, he quickly formulated a plan.

  "Okay. The woman in the elevator, she's special."

  Fancy snorted. "I bet. Even half drunk, she lured you away with liquor smelling pheromones."

  "No. It wasn't like that. I can't tell you why, but she's someone I've been watching for. I couldn't waste the golden opportunity presented when we were stuck in that elevator."

  She stepped off the ma
chine and walked to a nearby bench, plopping down while patting her perspiring forehead. "You're not helping your cause any."

  He followed, sitting down beside her. "Let's just say I was approached by people in power, wanting me to make contact with that particular woman." She swiveled to look at him. Counting that for a positive, he continued. "I can't give details since it was just contact and she's a free woman, but I needed to meet her, find out where she's staying."

  "Okay. Suppose what you're saying is true. Couldn't you have slipped her your room number or phone number? Heck, you could have tracked her down at the party after we arrived."

  Cringing at her abrupt tone and clear insight, he released a long suffering sigh. "I'll admit, I didn't think. It was a shock to recognize her, and I couldn't come up with any other way to fulfill my requirements. What seemed like a good idea at the time now shows some holes."

  "Some holes? Swiss cheese is more like it."

  Refraining from debating her analysis, he shifted gears. "I spoke the truth when I said that I really wanted to spend the evening with you."

  Fancy blinked, studied him for a long moment, then shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm not buying that." Standing up, she settled the towel around her neck. "While I do believe you didn't set out to hurt my feelings, I can't go along with the idea that you picked me out of the hundreds of women here to be with. I don't know if I was just convenient, you felt guilty, or perhaps I was just a challenge. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that I've been fooled once and won't be again."

  "You're different and you've grown on me," he blurted out in honesty, treading water in this debate, fearing he was slowly sinking underwater.

  "That doesn't a relationship make," she tartly pointed out.

  "But it's a start. Look, I'm sorry. I wish I had come up with another solution. I didn't. My fault. I wish I could tell you the whole story. I'm sworn to secrecy and can't. I'm sorry about that, too." He stood up, taking one of her hands in his. "I really do want to spend time with you, learn more, banter with you, see the smile light up your eyes. Yes, I'm asking a lot for you to give me one more chance. But I promise, if you do, you won't regret it." His thumb lightly caressed her hand as he hardly dared to breathe, waiting on her decision. When she remained mute, he whispered, "You fascinate me, interest me, and amaze me with your spunk and fortitude. At least, give it a try. Just one more time. If I do anything wrong, you can kick my ass because heaven knows I'll do the same."