by Lisa Wells
“34 C?” the sales lady asked.
“D,” Kinley replied.
Charlie raised an eyebrow.
Kinley sighed. “C.”
The sales lady walked to a dressing room, unlocked the door and opened it. “Get undressed, and I’ll bring you a few things to try on.”
Charlie pushed Kinley toward the door when she didn’t move. “She’s going to need the works.”
“What are the works?” Kinley asked from behind the closed door. Ian Thompson better not have a small penis or she was really going to be pissed to have wasted so much of her conference time on him. She should be researching agents right now.
“Tonight, once you have him back to the hotel room, when you take your clothes off, your body needs to leave him speechless.”
“Then she needs a wax and a spray tan. I’ll call my guy.”
Kinley paused in the middle of unhooking her bra. Anxiety snapped her into action. She opened the door and stuck her head out. “Not doing the wax thing. Been there, done that, ain’t happening.” She shut the door.
“Nonsense,” Charlie said. “Make the appointment for one o’clock. I’ll get her liquored up over lunch.”
Kinley shuddered. The worst pain she’d ever endured had been for a Brazilian wax. “I’m not getting waxed down there,” she stated loudly. She’d rather be featured standing in the nude next to a naked super model in a “who wore their birthday suit better?” photo shoot than wax her privates.
“Trust me, three chocolate martinis in you, and you won’t even feel a thing,” Charlie replied.
Chapter Nine
Kinley walked into Club Uno a new woman. Her curly hair had been straightened and cascaded down her back like spilled chocolate. Her thick eyebrows had been oohed and aahed over as the cross-dresser technician plucked them into a hissing-cat arch. Her eye shadow was a clichéd smoky look using colors that enhanced her brown eyes, and her lips were a pale neutral with lots of gloss.
After much discussion between Charlie and the boutique babe, the outfit she wore shouted “do-me, I’m easy.” There wasn’t anything about the form fitting black dress that gave off an elementary school librarian vibe. The front had a deep V that stopped just above her belly button. The back was scooped out so low underwear wasn’t possible. Kinley’s freshly-waxed playground was going commando.
The grand finale of her attire was a pair of hooker red shoes with toothpick heels that easily added four inches to her height and dropped thirty points from her perceived IQ of those assessing her.
She’d been made to practice runway walking in them for over an hour after her lunch martinis until Charlie was convinced she could pull them off.
Hours later, she stepped out of the taxi—carefully, mind you, she wasn’t about to go all drunken Hollywood Celeb/flash the crowd with her girlie bits—and did the runway strut to the front of the line. “Hi,” she purred in her best attempt at a sexy voice. Tonight she planned to be the mysterious woman that others viewed as edgy and ballsy with just a hint of Moscato sweetness.
The bouncer gave her a look that made her want to have a cigarette. Even though she wasn’t a smoker.
“I’m—”
“The best looking thing I’ve seen in years.” The bouncer unlatched the cord meant to keep the unsuitables out. He allowed Kinley to enter.
Who needs a man’s name when you’ve got an ass, tits, and heels?
Inside the plush club, she took a deep breath and then smiled like the room was her movie set and she was their porn star. “Show time.” She didn’t look for Ian. Charlie specifically told her not to. She said to arrive late and casually walk through and find a seat at the bar—then proceed to chat up the bartender and anyone who sat down beside her.
When Kinley fretted about the plan, Charlie assured her Ian would notice her the moment she entered the room, and he would come to her. Getting him to come to her was part of the seduction. He wouldn’t want to, but he wouldn’t be able to help himself if she did exactly what Charlie told her to do.
“May I buy you a drink?” a man asked, coming up to the bar and standing beside her.
Kinley looked him over. “It depends. What’s it going to cost me to let you buy me a drink?” She did an internal sigh. Thank God someone was hitting on her. Just because you dress like you’re all that, and just because someone you barely know tells you, you’re all that, doesn’t mean you’re all that. Kinley was more than aware that although her legs might be long, her thighs were too large. And her ass could be perkier. And underneath the makeup was an ordinary woman.
He leaned an elbow on the bar and checked her out. “Not a thing.”
“Really?” she sounded as skeptical as she felt.
A sheepish grin lifted his lips. “Okay. I’ll be straight with you. My friends think you’re going to shoot me down. Let me buy you a drink, and I’m the boss in their eyes.”
Kinley resisted the urge to run toward the exit. To call uncle and forget this charade. “How old are you?” she asked the young hunk staring at her. And thus part two of Charlie’s plan was in action.
Flirt with members of the opposite sex while you wait for Ian’s approach.
“Celebrating my twenty-first birthday,” the boy-toy said with a variation of the sheepish grin that made him look about eighteen.
She placed her hand on his arm. “Happy birthday.”
“What are you drinking?” he asked.
A woman who drinks bourbon is dangerous. A woman who drinks wine is a housewife. Charlie’s words played in Kinley’s head.
“Anything with bourbon.”
Birthday Boy commandeered the bartender’s attention. “We’ll take two Boulevardiers with Maker’s Mark.” He sat down on the barstool next to Kinley. “So what’s a beauty like you doing alone in a bar?”
“It’s a long story.” She smiled like he’d said something incredibly funny. “So have you gotten lucky yet?”
His face turned red, highlighting freckles she hadn’t noticed before.
She glanced down at her dress. Had she inadvertently given him a bald eagle shot? And then it dawned on her what she’d asked him. “Sorry. I was talking about luck at the slots. Not with the ladies.” She could feel heat in her cheeks. And this was Vegas. Oh my God, he probably thought she was soliciting him!
“Oh.” His shoulders relaxed. “Not yet. If things don’t turn around, it’s going to be an expensive trip.”
Their drinks came.
Kinley held hers up for a toast. “Here’s to you having a safe, fun, and luck-infused birthday weekend.”
He picked up his glass, clinked hers. “Here’s to meeting a beautiful woman on my twenty-first birthday.”
She smiled. What a sweet young man. “Thanks for the drink.”
Birthday Boy took a sip of his. “If you get lonely, you’re welcome to hang with us tonight.” He pointed to a group of guys sitting at a table. “We’re pretty harmless.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He gave her a smile and then turned to walk away.
“Oh wait,” Kinley said, grabbing his arm, remembering Charlie’s instruction to lay the flirting on thick. When he glanced at her, she winked at him. “This is for the guys watching. You need bragging rights on your birthday.” She leaned in and touched her lips to his—very quickly, but long enough for his friends to see. And long enough for Ian to see if he was indeed watching her from somewhere.
Birthday Boy cleared his throat and touched his lips. “Thanks.” He sauntered back to his friends like a cowboy after a successful eight-second bull ride.
Kinley laughed. She could feel Ian’s eyes on her. But she hadn’t spotted him yet. Not that it mattered if she saw him. Only that he saw her. What would he say when they talked?
Several minutes later, another of the birthday group joined her. Told her it was his birthday. She sent him packing with a pat on his cheek.
Less than five minutes after that, Ian walked up to the bar. “I don’t kn
ow what you think you’re doing, but stop it.” The order was made in a pissed-off, gruff voice.
She’d hit a nerve. “Hi,” she said, biting back a smile.
“I’ll have an Aberfeldy neat with a water back,” he said to the bartender. He didn’t say anything else to Kinley. He didn’t even look at her.
Was this part of the seduction? Did he want her to pretend they didn’t know each other? “I see we both have good taste in drinks.” She laid a hand on his forearm to get his attention. She felt his pulse beat hard beneath her fingertips.
“Thanks,” he said to the bartender who brought him his drink. He took the straw and, eye-dropper style, added four drops of water into his glass. Then he downed the drink and slammed the glass on the counter, still not glancing her way.
Kinley’s brows drew in. He seemed mildly livid. A step beyond pissed. “Perhaps you’d like to buy me a drink?” she said, pushing her empty glass next to his hand. There was no way in hell she was buying her own drinks tonight. They cost a small fortune.
“Bring her another, and put her drinks on my tab tonight,” he said to the bartender. “And bring me another.”
That’s better. She slowly uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, willing him to look at her.
He didn’t.
“Thanks,” she said. Trying to stay in character.
Nothing.
Time to try a new tactic. “Give me your phone,” she said in what she hoped was a sexy voice.
He slashed an eyebrow at her, causing her insides to melt into a puddle of dreamy nostalgia. She’d done it. After all these years, Ian Thompson just executed his signature move on her. The one that made all of the middle school girls giggle and the high school girls swoon.
He handed over his phone.
She took it, her hands shaky. “What’s your password?”
“Nine, one, nine, two.”
She unlocked his phone and punched her name and number into his contacts. “Call me sometime.” She handed him his phone back.
“I don’t live around here.”
“Oh.” This is where she should invite him back to her hotel. But Charlie told her under no circumstances should she do that. So she didn’t. Was that a mistake?
The bartender brought their drinks.
He picked his up and pushed hers toward her. Then he glanced down at her legs. “Have a great evening,” he said, still not looking her in the eyes, and before she could blink, he walked away.
Kinley’s smile disappeared. “You too,” but he was already too far away to hear her words. What in the hell was that about? Shit, shit, shit.
She watched him cross the floor to a table occupied by a woman. When he sat down, the lady leaned in and said something to him that made him throw back his head and laugh.
Kinley felt a shot of some type of emotion. She had no idea what the emotion was, but it wasn’t pleasant. Who in the hell was that? How was she supposed to pick Ian up if he was here with some bimbo? Not that the woman looked like a bimbo. Kinley had the market on bimbo for the evening.
She slid off the bar stool and strolled over to the birthday table. “Who wants to dance?” The drinks were beginning to warm her insides and numb her brain.
Four of the guys glanced at one another, and then they all turned their attention to a redheaded young man. A cutie-patootie. “He will.”
He stood and led her to the dance floor.
She swayed to the music. A sultry jazz. Reminded herself not to dance like she usually did, although a little voice in her head shouted, “Do the Running Man!” She reined in the impulse. No one would get seduced if she pulled out the Kinley-moves.
“Do you know why it’s me you’re dancing with and not one of them?” he asked, as they danced.
“Why?”
“Because they’re all hot for you.”
Kinley stumbled and put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself. Why wasn’t he interested in her? Did he see her for what she was? A fraud with fat thighs? “And you’re not?” Kinley Foster, did you just practically ask a guy why he doesn’t want you?
“I’m gay.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and swung her around. “You’re a horrible dancer.”
“I know. Sorry about your foot.”
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but the broody hunk who bought your drink after my friend bought you one…”
Kinley accidentally stepped on his foot again. Broody was a good word for Ian. Especially tonight. “What about him?”
“He walked by our table and told us to stay the hell away from you if we wanted to live.”
Kinley giggled. She felt oddly elated by the knowledge. She’d made Ian jealous. “He was teasing. He’s got a weird sense of humor like that. Rumor has it he’s gay. Would you like his phone number?” Did Ian still have the same cell number? The one her brother gave to her on a Post-it note five years ago with a message from Ian that he would like for her to call him? You’d think she would have forgotten it the moment she wadded up the slip of paper and threw it in the trash. She hadn’t. When she’d added her number to his phone, she should’ve sent a text to herself. Damn it.
Kinley’s phone beeped as they were leaving the dance floor. She glanced down at the message.
You’ve been there long enough. Time to leave. —Charlie.
Kinley texted back. I don’t have him yet.
Leave anyway. —Charlie.
…
Ian watched Kinley walk off the dance floor and back to the table of douches. Fuck. He stood. He was going to have to get into a fight tonight. Where in the hell was the rest of her dress? That couldn’t be all of the material that came with it.
He motioned for the waiter. “I’d like to close my tab.”
What the hell had he been thinking, inviting her here? No. Stratch that. What the hell had he been thinking throwing down that seduction gauntlet in the first place?
He glanced around impatiently for the waiter and his credit card when Kinley turned and sashayed toward the door. His nostrils flared. Her ass had the room mesmerized. Is that why she was walking like that? To draw the attention of every man in the joint onto her ass? He needed a friggin’ blanket.
And where in the hell was she going? Wasn’t she supposed to be seducing him?
The guy he’d seen her kiss got up and hurried to catch up with her.
She stopped. They talked and then laughed. Her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow.
Ian settled up his bill in time to see them walk out the doors.
What the fuck? Had she changed her mind about seducing him? Was she going to find someone else to teach her about sex and sexual tension?
He stormed toward the door. She wasn’t going anywhere with another guy on his watch. If she was determined to get laid in the name of research, it was going to be him and not some jackass out for ass.
He exited the building in time to see her sliding into a taxi. Her dress rode up enough to show the outline of her cheeks. The sight had him sucking in a breath and nearly tripping over his own two feet.
The guy with her leaned down to say something.
Ian came up behind them and pushed the guy away. “She’s with me,” he said. His hands fisted at his sides, daring him to give him a reason to throw a punch. He wanted to hit the guy.
The guy took a step back. “No problem, dude, I was just being a gentleman and making sure she got a cab.”
Ian slid into the backseat and shut the door in the would-be-suitor’s face. “Take us to the Masquerade,” he said to the driver. He turned toward Kinley. “What the hell is going on with you?”
She blinked. Her eyes somewhat glazed. “Nothing. I’m just going back to the hotel.”
He swore under his breath. “I thought the whole idea was for you to seduce me into coming back to your hotel with you?”
As the taxi pulled away from the curb, she ran her hand down the side of his face. “You’re in my taxi, and we’re headed back to the hotel,” she said softly. “
I’d say I succeeded.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Hell. He’d played right into her hands. He threw back his head and laughed. “Well played, Kinley Foster.”
Kinley giggled and scooted to the corner of the taxi. The move caused her dress to shimmy up her thighs to the point of nearly being indecent.
Ian’s gaze locked onto her legs. “Are you wearing anything under that?” His voice was husky.
She parted her legs slightly. Not enough that he could see anything. Just enough to make him forget to breathe. “What do you think?” she asked.
He reached out and touched her leg at the knee. He slowly ran his hand up her leg until the tips of his fingers were touching the hem of her dress.
“Oh,” she said, her eyes half-closing.
He forced himself to remove his hand. She wasn’t his for the taking. She was his best friend’s little sister. Best friend’s little sister. Best friend’s little sister. Best friend’s little sister.
Chapter Ten
Kinley stepped into the hotel in front of Ian and stopped. The elevators stared back at her, and she was swaying juuuuust a bit. The two of them were reaching the point of no return. She’d been panting with desire in the taxi. But here in the bright lights, the film of desire was more transparent. It seemed tawdry. She felt like her legs were going to buckle beneath her at any moment.
Was she really going to turn to Ian to help her end her sexual hiatus? To start the ball rolling on her New Year’s resolution? She’d be killing two birds with one stone, and all that, but still…
Ian placed a hand on her shoulder and caressed her bare skin. “If you’re having second thoughts, we can call off this game.”
His words snapped her out of her frenzy. What they were doing wasn’t tawdry. It was normal behavior between two consenting adults. He’d like for her to back down. Then he could make fun of her for not having the nerve to finish what she’d started.
Damn it. She wasn’t going to be the one who halted their experiment. And yes, by God, she’d be honest with herself about why she was doing this. She wasn’t just doing this to get out of her sexual slump. But her other reason wasn’t something she wanted to think about right now. She’d think about it later. When the conference was over. Or never.
