Wickedly Hot

by Leslie Kelly

  Freddy, on the other hand, wasn’t worth the trouble it was going to take to fire him. She’d already started looking for someone else, not only because Freddy wasn’t dependable. He also had a nasty habit of hitting on the unattached women in his tour groups.

  “Are we going on this thing or what?” the loud man in the back asked.

  Jade smothered a sigh. She’d known he’d be trouble when she saw his long shorts, coupled with shin-high white socks with the requisite red stripe around the elastic top. She hadn’t even needed to see the brightly-flowered Hawaiian shirt, camera slung around his neck, big ugly glasses and ball cap to know he had “difficult” and “tasteless” written all over him.

  “We’ll be departing in a few minutes,” Jade told the audience, implicitly telling the man to be patient.

  The crowd was a big one tonight. Mostly college-age kids and young adults. The families typically came to the early tour, not this one, which wouldn’t end until ten-thirty, at the Winter Garden inn.

  Pushy tourists, however, seemed to show up at every single one. Lucky her.

  “We gonna actually see any ghosts on this tour? Or just hear made-up stories about them?”

  Jade shot the gum-chewing loudmouth a look that told him to shut up. He merely smirked, his long mustache covering his top lip so that he looked like a walrus.

  “Don’t give the city any more ghosts tonight,” Daisy said, sounding amused. “We have enough murder victims for the tour. And I can’t afford to be out of work because my boss is doing ten to twenty for justifiable homicide.”

  “Justifiable being the key,” she replied, giving Daisy a wry look.

  Daisy grinned, the happy look somewhat incongruous given her blood-red lips and paste-white skin, but the goodness shone through. Daisy was the first to admit she wasn’t a vampire wannabe, merely a player. She liked the look, but nothing else that went with it. That was one of the reasons she’d left New Orleans, which sometimes took its “playing” a little too seriously.

  Jade was so glad she had. She valued Daisy’s friendship, and squeezed her hand to let her know it. “If things don’t go well tonight…”

  “They will,” Daisy said, not letting anything spoil her vision of her reunion with her ex-con boyfriend.

  “I mean if they don’t…then come by, okay? I’m sure I’ll be up late.”

  Daisy smirked. “If I thought you’d be up late for the right reason—because you actually had a man in your bed, instead of a juicy book and a vibrator—I wouldn’t come anywhere near your place.”

  Rolling her eyes, Jade didn’t admit that Daisy’s description was probably closer to the truth than anyone would realize. Except for the vibrator part. She wouldn’t dare such a thing with Auntie Lula Mae staying with her. The old woman had ears like a hawk and would demand to know what the buzzing sound was. And once she’d seen the cute little toy—which Jade had bought off an Internet site when she’d hit fifteen months straight without sex—she’d probably want to know how to get one of her own.

  Eeew.

  But once Lula Mae returned home to Mama’s house…well, Jade predicted her vibrating friend would get a good workout. She certainly could have used it after her incredible interlude with Ryan Stoddard the night before.

  She still shook, remembering the intensity of feeling—of pleasure—they’d shared in the Medford garden. If the light hadn’t come on, she might very well have been the one caught bare-ass naked by the fountain. Because she’d wanted nothing more at that moment other than him. Nothing. But. Him.

  “Have fun,” Daisy said as she walked off down the street.

  Jade grimaced, waved goodbye, and led the group past the cemetery. She’d have to keep a smile on her face and ignore the troublemakers on the tour. As well as put any and all evil, distracting thoughts of sex out of her mind. This was her livelihood, after all.

  There was one surefire way to make sure she kept a smile on her face. All she had to do was think about Ryan Stoddard, tied up, naked and discovered by fifty or so tuxedoed millionaires.

  Naked. Humiliated. Embarrassed. Paid back. Unfulfilled.

  Okay, that wasn’t so satisfying, since they’d both been unfulfilled. Anyway, somehow, naked and Ryan Stoddard were three words she shouldn’t have put in the same sentence.

  God, he’d been glorious. Impossibly big and hard and toned and perfect. Covered with smooth skin that still made her fingers itch to touch, nearly twenty-four hours later.

  Walking away had been about punishing him. But it had punished her as well. She’d never been as physically aroused by a man as she had in those moments before she’d remembered she was out for revenge. Not orgasms.

  Though, those would have been pretty nice, too.

  No, not from him. Vibrators were just as efficient, and they didn’t go around seducing twenty-one-year-olds.

  Or, if they did, at least they could be put back in a drawer.

  “Next week. A woman can survive one week without a man or a vibrator,” she told herself.

  Though, to be honest, she found herself wishing Aunt Lula Mae were a little more hard of hearing, as were most people her age.

  “Where’s the ghosts?” she heard from a dozen people back.

  Mr. Obnoxious.

  Pasting a smile on her face, she thrust the incredible memory of Ryan Stoddard’s body and face and hands and mouth out of her mind. He was out of her life. Probably out of Savannah after the embarrassment he’d suffered the night before. She’d never see him again, and he’d think twice about the women he went after.

  All’s well that ends well.

  But that still didn’t dispel the hint of emptiness inside her when she imagined what might have been.

  6

  SHE HADN’T RECOGNIZED him. She’d noticed him—oh, he’d made absolutely sure she’d notice him. If he’d tried to blend in and be unobtrusive, she’d probably have paid more attention. Deceptive people were sneaky and untrusting that way.

  So Ryan had gone out of his way to be as obvious as possible.

  If any of his buddies, clients or former girlfriends could see him now—dressed like one of those old farts who cruised the mall, looking for high school girls in tight shorts to drool over…

  It was a perfect disguise.

  Ryan had even begun to enjoy the tour once he’d let down his guard a bit. Jade stayed far away from him after his one attempt to move up front. He’d almost laughed when he’d sidled up behind her. He’d been right under her nose, hidden behind some saggy, hideously ugly clothes, a ball cap, thick eyeglasses complete with ugly black rims and a fake mustache.

  She’d never even realized. She’d moved away, putting several people between them, and hadn’t paid him a bit of attention since.

  He had to hand it to her—she wasn’t bad at her job. She had a natural theatrical flare, not surprising since she’d proven herself such a consummate actress last night.

  But there was more than performance. She seemed passionate about her work. She answered questions about the history and architecture of the area without a moment’s hesitation.

  So she knew her stuff. Big deal. Any thief would have to have a good memory. The better to maneuver through dark houses. Or dark gardens.

  “And here,” she was saying somewhere ahead of him, “is the famous bar where an infamous pirate is rumored to demand his rum, even to this day.”

  A drink. That sounded good. If only to steel himself for what he was about to do to this woman very, very soon.

  Last night she’d been the one who’d had the upper hand, and he’d ended up naked and restrained. Tonight, it was her turn.

  By the end of the tour, when they reached the Winter Garden House, Ryan had made sure to be as much of a pest as he could. He was definitely the most noticeable one on the tour.

  So she’d definitely notice when he disappeared.

  He wondered why Jade included the house on the tour, considering it was owned by the wealthy side of her family. According to
the tour, the place had been on that side of the family for decades. Did Jade come here night after night to look at what her side had been denied? Perhaps to see the kinds of things—paintings, jewelry, antiques—that she’d coveted but never had as a child?

  Damn, he really needed to stop this psychoanalyzing stuff. It was stupid and he was no expert. He knew next to nothing about the woman, so why he’d started pegging her as a poor relation out to right the wrongs done to her ancestors, he had no idea.

  Maybe because he didn’t want her to be just an average, avaricious thief. Maybe because he wanted to allow himself to like her.

  Or at least to get involved with her.

  “Stupid, stupid,” he muttered to himself as the tour finished up. Henry, Jade’s uncle, had greeted them briefly, then disappeared somewhere inside the depths of the house. A uniformed waitress supplied everyone on the tour with a complimentary cognac or champagne as Jade wrapped up her story about the ghost who haunted the attic of the building.

  Time to act. Now, while the guests tipped her, thanked her, and exited to the street. She was still in the parlor, and a cluster of people were moving through the foyer to the door.

  He made his move. “I want to look at the upstairs rooms,” he grumbled aloud, scratching his belly and being as disgusting as possible.

  His words earned him a look of disdain from one of the women on the tour.

  “Paid a lot of money, I should get to see upstairs!” He said the words loudly enough to be overheard, then sauntered away.

  From behind him, he heard a buzz of conversation. Ryan merely strolled down the hall as if he owned the place. And up the stairs he went.

  It would take about thirty seconds for one of the other customers to rat him out to Jade. Sixty more to usher everyone else out of the house. She’d be looking for him immediately thereafter.

  Lucky for him this was a weeknight and the inn was relatively empty. Only two other upstairs rooms were occupied and both had their doors firmly shut. After darting into his own room, he turned on a light, sat in one of the antique frou-frou chairs…and waited.

  “Sir. Sir, you can’t be up here!”

  A minute and a half. Damn, she was quick.

  “Huh?” he asked, rising to his feet as Jade rushed into the room, her fists clenched, her face red.

  “You cannot come upstairs to the private rooms. Mr. Porter allows us to visit the downstairs rooms only. You need to leave immediately.”

  Keeping his cap down in case the mustache and big, ugly glasses weren’t a good enough disguise, he lifted his camera. Continuing to mimic the guy with the thick Bronx accent who’d done some repair work for him last month, he said, “I just wanted to get some pictures of this here old bed. People musta been sleepin’ awful cozy in the old days.” Then he cackled. “And I bet it squeaked when the getting got good.”

  She sighed heavily, looking disgusted. Ryan didn’t know whether to be delighted with his own performance, or offended that she really thought he was some tasteless, tacky tourist.

  “I must insist that you come with me right now.”

  She stepped closer. Closer. One step more. Until he had her.

  Quick as he could, he moved behind her and shut the door. The old-fashioned lock worked—he’d tested it earlier. It was easy enough to twist the lock and drop the key into his pocket.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Jade asked, looking more outraged than afraid.

  He didn’t answer. Instead he reached for the long strap of his camera and carefully lifted it over his head, not removing the cap.

  “Unlock the door right now, or I’ll call for help.”

  “Will you?” he asked, no longer trying to hide his real voice.

  He reached for the top button of the hideous Hawaiian shirt and began to undo it. Jade’s eyes widened as she began to realize the kind of trouble she could be in.

  He was tempted to let her be afraid, but something inside him resisted. He wanted her afraid of him. Of his retribution. But not that some whacked out stranger was about to rape her.

  “I know karate and I have a wicked herpes outbreak,” she said, her voice thready. She curled her fingers into fists at her sides, obviously prepared to fight him in spite of her fear.

  Ryan couldn’t help laughing as he finally lifted the ball cap from his head and pulled the glasses from his face. “Well, then, I guess I should count myself lucky you stopped things where you did last night.”

  Then she got it. Her jaw dropped and she stepped back, wrapping her fingers in the velvety antique curtains behind her.

  “Ryan…”

  He peeled off the mustache, wincing a little as the spirit gum stuck to his lip. “Hello, Jade.”

  “How did you find me?” she asked, her voice breathy. She looked more nervous now than when she’d feared he was a rapist.

  He didn’t answer at first, merely letting the tension build as he unfastened another button. Then another. She never took her eyes off him and he’d swear her breathing picked up its pace as more and more of his body was revealed.

  He’d been right—she hadn’t faked her responses last night. She’d wanted him. Badly. Which would definitely work to his advantage now.

  “Did you really think you were going to be so hard to track down?” He could hear the tightly controlled anger in his own voice as the memory of what had happened between them last night returned full-force.

  He’d been totally focused on what she’d done, leaving him there naked and humiliated. Now he was remembering more. How she’d felt in his arms. How her lips had tasted. The way her hands had touched him.

  He didn’t know whether to tear her clothes off and finish what they’d started or lock her in the closet for tormenting him.

  “I, uh, figured you’d leave the city this morning. As soon as you were able.”

  He stepped closer. She stepped back. “You figured wrong. And by the way, your scheme didn’t exactly work.”

  For the first time, she looked less nervous and more surprised. “It didn’t?”

  Shaking his head, he quirked a half smile, full of condescension, not amusement. “Your friend Tally spotted me. She made sure the guests didn’t come out for their toast.”

  He didn’t tell her about the amorous old innkeeper spying him, too. That would have given her too much satisfaction.

  “So, all’s well that ends well,” she said with a nervous laugh, and he sensed the irony in her words. She tried to step around him. “Just a little joke and no harm done, right?”

  He moved yet again, blocking her way with his body. After undoing the last button of the hideous shirt, he pushed it from his shoulders.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” she asked. The lick of her lips and the shake in her voice indicated where her thoughts had gone.

  To him. Undressing. In a bedroom. One night after they’d been so incredibly intimate in so many ways.

  “Do you know how unpleasant it was to wear this disguise?” he asked. “I had to buy this shirt at a used clothing store.”

  The shirt dropped to the floor. Her eyes dropped to his chest, his stomach.

  When he reached for the fastening of the ugly old-man shorts, her eyes dropped again. “You can’t…”

  “Can’t what? Can’t take off the ridiculous disguise I had to wear in order to get you alone again?”

  Her stare never wavered as he unbuttoned the shorts, unzipped the zipper, and dropped them to the floor.

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered, reaching up to clutch her throat.

  “Nothing you haven’t seen before, is it, Jade? Though, you didn’t stick around long enough to really see how you affected me last night.”

  She could see now, though. Her whole face was flushed, her lips parted and wet as she stared at him. All of him, including the erection he wasn’t trying to hide.

  He’d always assumed he was a normally built man. But the shocked hunger in her eyes told him he’d caught her off guard.

  “No,
you’re right. I d-didn’t see you that well,” she stammered.

  He kicked off the ugly shoes, then bent to peel off the socks. Then he rose, standing in front of her completely naked. Uncaring, not bothering even to pretend to be self-conscious.

  She looked like she wanted to run. She looked like she wanted to jump on him. She looked like she needed someone to tell her what to do.

  So he did.

  “Take off your dress and get into the bed, Jade.”

  Noooo, no, this couldn’t be happening. Not to her. Not here. Not with him.

  But it was. She was so hungry, so full of want for this man that she couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

  He’d just ordered her to strip and get into bed. Jade didn’t take orders from anybody. And yet she wanted to do as he said more than she’d ever wanted anything.

  She wanted him. All of him. His mouth, those incredibly thick arms. The flat washboard stomach, rippled with muscles, slimming down into a pair of lean male hips. And, oh mercy, lower. He was thick and hard and throbbing and he hadn’t so much as touched her.

  Lucky thing she hadn’t looked carefully last night before she’d mustered up her last bit of willpower and escaped through the back gate. Because if she’d seen what she was giving up, she might never have left.

  For one moment, a shot of gladness swept through her that no other woman at the party last night had seen him either—other than Tally, who was notoriously vain about her looks and hadn’t been wearing her glasses. So she couldn’t have gotten too good a look.

  Why she felt territorial over this man—a man she’d sworn she hated—she had no idea. But she did. She did.

  “You can’t force me,” she whispered, trying to come up with some resolve.

  “You owe me.”

  “I owe you sex?”