Box of 1Night Stands: 21 Sizzling Nights

by Anthology

  The beauty pulling him downstairs presented a break in routine. He hadn’t experienced motivation like this, for, well, years.

  Alex and the woman were the only ones in the bar when he arrived. The elegant curve of her spine invited him closer. The bartender leaned over the gleaming mahogany, smiling. When Cameron glared at him as he strode closer, Alex walked away and the woman’s head turned, following his retreat.

  Cameron stopped at her shoulder and she straightened, tipping her delicate chin toward him.

  He struggled to maintain his surprise as he saw her glorious face for the first time and recognized her instantly. High cheekbones, hazel eyes like pieces of shattered stained glass…Ginger Hampton was more beautiful in person than he could have imagined. For the first time in four years, awareness flowed through him at the sight of a woman. Her gaze scanned his face then drifted down his rangy body, settling on the scars on his neck, and he waited for an expression of disgust to materialize. God, how could he have forgotten? His heart clenched and his breath paused in his lungs. But it didn’t happen. Instead, her painted red mouth broadened into a full smile.

  “Hello,” she said.

  Cock hardening instantly, he struggled to remember their surroundings. They were in the Castillo bar, not in his suite. Her voice was surprisingly smoky, and he wondered if it was that way naturally or as a result of the alcohol. Either way, he wanted to hear more. She personified sex, and his damaged body wanted to participate. His cheeks heated as he remembered the dog-eared security manual lying on the floor beside his bed, open to her ad.

  How mortifying to be staring into the face of his wet dream. Literally. The pose in the magazine was professional in the extreme. She wore a plain black suit with a narrow skirt, her hair rolled up in a bun. Something about the look in her eyes, though, made him think sex.

  She blinked up at him, quirking a dark brow in question. Her expression gentled as heat washed over his cheeks. He was relieved when the drink suddenly became fascinating to her.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  Ridiculous. Thirty-eight years old and an attractive, intuitive woman could knock him off guard. It never used to be that way; years ago, he did the flustering, and he had never gone without female companionship for any length of time. Until the accident that blew his world apart. Four years after his return from Iraq, his confidence with the opposite sex had pretty much tanked.

  Concentrating, forcing himself to be personable, he held his hand out. She didn’t hesitate to clasp it strongly. Intrigued in spite of himself, heat surged up his arm from the point of contact. “Cameron.”

  The woman smiled sweetly and gave his hand an extra shake. If she noticed the warmth, she didn’t give any indication. “Ginger.”

  A thrill went through him as she confirmed her identity. One of the most photographed and recognizable forces in the security world, she had resigned from the FBI years before. High-end corporate issues were her forte now. A couple of years ago, she had made the papers for rescuing the four-year old daughter of a Fortune 500 CEO. He’d snipped the piece and pored over it repeatedly during his months of recovery. When he’d been released from the hospital, he’d tucked the threadbare clipping in his underwear drawer.

  “Ginger,” he asked, “mind if I sit with you a minute?”

  Interest lightened her unique hazel eyes, and his ego thumped. Didn’t his appearance bother her? If she was interested, he would seriously try to work up the balls to acknowledge it.

  She waved a manicured hand and shifted her knees to give him room. Cameron hiked himself onto the little stool and rested his left elbow on the mahogany rail, his body angled toward her. Alex set a Diet Coke at his elbow, winked at her, and retreated to serve another customer who had entered.

  He cleared his throat. “Are you, uh, waiting for somebody?”

  She blinked at him and frowned at the almost empty glass in front of her. “Yes. A date.” She tossed him a wry smile. “But he didn’t show up.” She glanced at the watch on her wrist. “He’s an hour late now.”

  Cameron’s brows lowered in disbelief. Who would leave someone so beautiful and intelligent hanging that way? “I seriously hope he’s in the hospital or being mugged downtown or some other catastrophic event. He better have a damn good excuse.”

  Ginger laughed and swallowed the last of her drink, her expression dark with sadness as she faced him again. “Thank you for that. I don’t know why he didn’t show. We were set up through a dating service.”

  Madame Eve. Cameron struggled with the thought that she had to be set up on a date. The woman was bangin’ hot and knew people. It amazed him that she didn’t already have a family, let alone a boyfriend.

  Ginger quirked a sleek auburn brow at him. “You’re wondering why I employed a dating service.” She raised a smooth shoulder delicately, the silver chain at her throat glinting in the low light. “I wanted somebody with more substance than I could find in my circles. Most of the guys I know are either too full of themselves, freaks, or too scared to ask. I needed somebody objective to help out and guide me in the right direction.” Resignation tightened her features. “Worked great, huh?”

  Cameron’s jaded heart shuddered at her obvious disappointment. But he could understand her reasoning. And he could certainly sympathize with the men. Honestly, he didn’t know if he had the balls to ask her out. You’re on duty, asshole. You can’t. He’d been directed to work the night shift tonight for a reason. Surely he’d located the woman Madame had told him to watch for.

  He pulled his cell phone out and typed off a quick text, letting Mike know he was going off shift. He offered Ginger a slight smile, just enough for the scar to tug at his lips. Taking a deep breath and his courage in hand, he asked her, “Can I buy you a coffee?”

  ***

  A frantic thrill coursed through Ginger’s body. The intensity of the feeling surprised her. The battle-scarred man beside her appealed to her in ways she didn’t expect, but was more than happy to explore.

  “Absolutely,” she told him with a grin. She would have preferred another martini, but maybe a little head clearing would be good. She wanted to be on her toes. Actually, I’d rather be in bed with him.

  His hard mouth twitched with surprise at her quick acceptance. He had probably expected her to decline. Normally, she would have, simply out of habit. Strange men approached her all the time, trying to get some kind of reaction. They saw her in a magazine or brochure for her company and acted as if they were acquainted and had special privileges to her. Pissed her off to no end.

  This guy was not the type that usually appealed to her. A rough life had etched itself across his strong face. Subtle scars puckered his left cheek, around his neck, and disappeared beneath the collar of his suit. The scarring had resulted from a burn, but she couldn’t tell how long ago. Black hair trimmed close, shaved at the neck and a tad longer on top, hinted at some kind of military background, and his attire suggested he worked in security. Hmm, the only drawback. She had hired Madame Eve specifically to get her away from law enforcement and armed forces types, but they tended to be the rescuers. She glanced at his body out of the corner of her eye. The black suit and matching shirt fitted nicely to his broad, muscular frame, but did not appear expensive. And he was tall, well over six feet. She’d had to crane her neck up at him from her stool, and she didn’t often have to do that. The thought of being feminine and not having to try to fit in as “one of the boys” thrilled her.

  “Black?”

  Ginger frowned. Black? Oh, the coffee. Yes, time to lay off the martinis. She nodded. “Please.”

  Cameron tipped his chin and the young man delivered two steaming cups within seconds. She inhaled the aroma, eyes closed, then smiled her appreciation.

  Though she didn’t do anything wrong, Ginger felt a little guilty when she opened her eyes and looked at Cameron. She had to wonder if he thought she was flirting. Previous boyfriends had been suspicious of any contact she had with other men, even
something innocuous as a business meeting or suspect interview. Girlfriends tended to think she had her sights set on their men, even when she didn’t. Everybody always assumed things about her, and it was frustrating being on the defensive all the time. One of the reasons she was in New York was to try to resurrect a friendship after a miscommunication.

  Her rescuer blew on the steaming cup of coffee in his hand. The scar pulled up one corner of his mouth, but his lips could still tighten. Still flexible enough for kissing, then. He would probably taste like coffee, but what else? Dark stubble shadowed his jaw—how would it rub against her skin?

  He licked his full lips and pursed them in a frown.

  Ginger realized she was staring and forced her gaze down to her cup. She didn’t want to make him self-conscious.

  “So,” she murmured, “do you work here at the hotel?”

  Cameron took another heavy swallow of the steaming coffee. “I do. I’m chief of security.”

  For a split second, Ginger debated telling him what she did professionally, but decided against it.

  Actually, the man seemed familiar to her. A memory teased at her mind. The sight of a broad back walking down the hallway, away from her. That had been the last time she’d stayed here, several months before. Could it have been him? The image had stuck with her vividly.

  She quirked a brow and leaned toward him, putting flirtation into her voice. “Really? Ever catch anybody having sex in the elevators?”

  He snorted. “A time or two, yes. And skinny dipping in the pool. And of course, the ‘hot tub incident’.”

  She giggled, intrigued. “Incident?”

  He leaned toward her. Their shoulders brushed, and she sighed. Very nice. “Yep. A gentleman guest decided one of the hot tub intakes would be a good place to put his, well, you know.”

  Chuckling, she rested her fingers on his forearm. “Seriously?”

  Cautious gray eyes flicked down to her hand. She’d laid the girlie thing on a little thick, but she couldn’t help herself. He didn’t actually appear disturbed, only surprised. Did the scars pose that much of an obstacle for women? Well, this was New York, a city that prided itself on false beauty.

  His physical imperfections didn’t bother her, though. This man actually lived and had the marks to prove it.

  “Seriously.” His dark head nodded solemnly. “We had to shut down the main floor of the hotel for several hours while the fire department extricated him.”

  Ginger covered her mouth with her hand. “The poor man had to have been mortified. Did he survive?”

  His right eyebrow kicked up and he grinned. “Well, other than some swelling, he did recover.”

  She laughed and rocked sideways on her stool, almost losing her balance. A strong hand snatched her arm and hauled her back into position. “Thank you,” she gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. “Oh, my, I needed that. Thank you, Cameron.”

  The big man motioned behind him. “Why don’t we go sit in a booth before you fall down?”

  She stared at him for a long minute. “No, I don’t think so.” She waved down the bartender, who snatched a receipt from the cash register and handed it to her, along with a pen. She scrawled her name across the bottom and handed them back. “Can you have room service send a pot of coffee up to my room, please? Thirteen-seventeen.”

  He nodded and reached for the house phone.

  She slid off the stool and smoothed her hands down her halter dress, tightening her tummy and squaring her shoulders. Cameron’s eyes drifted slowly up her body, following her movements, and her nipples responded to the weight of his gaze. Her stomach clenched at her daring. “Would you join me upstairs?”

  Chapter Two

  Cameron didn’t say anything for a long time, and Ginger worried that she’d moved too quickly. His brows furrowed in a frown. Insecurity tightened the lines of his face, but his ingrained military conduct came to the fore.

  “I’ll walk you up to your room,” he said finally, slipping off the stool to stand beside her.

  He offered less than she expected, but she would take it. Maybe she could convince him to stay longer once they got up there. She rested her hand in the crook of his elbow as he stepped beside her.

  She enjoyed walking with a man taller than her. It didn’t happen very often. Although she appreciated her height, and the career it had helped make possible for her, she found it tedious having to look down at everybody. Too many men became defensive when they felt short. Or they suddenly found it difficult to lift their eyes higher than her chest.

  Cameron waved to the bartender as they left, and Ginger had a feeling the coffee would be waiting for them when they got to the room. The service at the Castillo Hotel was beyond reproach, but for the chief of security, it would be exemplary.

  She stayed here whenever she visited the city. Her hometown of Chicago housed one of the hotels as well, and she often escorted business clients to the restaurant there for the remarkable five-star dining.

  The staff members at both hotels were real and personable. They remembered her name and her preferences. More than once Ginger had called at the last minute, and the reservations department had always found her an available suite.

  Madame Eve had some explaining to do, though, about the fallen through date. So much for her perfect success rate for 1NightStand.

  Ginger pushed the worry aside and concentrated on her companion. She squeezed his forearm slightly, and the muscles beneath the jacket hardened. Oh, my. She wanted to run her hand up his arm, around his shoulders, to the nape of his neck, and into his short hair.

  Her hungry body warmed at the thought of exploring him further, her knight in scarred armor. Although guarded right now, if he got over his insecurities he would probably be a wonderful lover. He had been very solicitous toward her, shifting to give her space yet staying close enough to clasp her elbow when she needed it.

  All too soon, the glass elevator jetted them up the outside of the hotel. She glanced at the lit skyscrapers around them, but her gaze was drawn to her escort. Tension began to mount the closer they got to her room. Does he feel it as well?

  The clenched muscles in his square jaw told her he did.

  “Are you attached, Cameron?” Her breath stalled in her lungs as she waited for his reply.

  His expression twisted. “What do you think?”

  Ginger blinked at the self-deprecation in his tone. “I think a woman would be lucky to be with you,” she told him honestly.

  Surprise lightened his bold features and his lips curved. “Well, thank you, but not everybody feels the same way.”

  A story waited to be told there, and Ginger believed she knew what it was. Women could be ruthless, mercenary creatures, too worried about aesthetics. “Well,” she whispered, “they should.”

  Although her words had been quiet, his gaze slammed to hers. In his eyes, she saw the burning, all-consuming need to belong. It was heartbreakingly obvious he wanted that as much as she did. If just for the night.

  That need had driven her for years and made her different from everyone else she knew. Rather than chasing adrenalin all the time, she wanted a calmer way of life. That need had spurred her resignation from the Bureau. She wanted to belong to someone, not something.

  They walked down the ornate hallway together, in step, all the way to her door. The coffee service waited outside. Cameron pulled a key card from his breast pocket, snapped it into the lock, and pushed her door open. She winked at him as she brushed by. “Master key, huh?”

  He tugged the cart in and pushed it to the center of the sitting room, next to the coffee table. The suite was equipped with a formal area to receive guests, a small kitchenette, a bathroom, office, and expansive bedroom. More room than a guest should ever need.

  Ginger kicked her heels off at the end of the sofa and padded to the small kitchenette. She retrieved porcelain cups, proud when her hand held steady in spite of her nerves. She filled them from the steaming carafe and handed one to him. �
�Have a seat.”

  She took the other cup and curled up on the couch with her legs folded to the side. Cameron hesitated for a minute before sitting on the far end, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee. She counted it a small victory, because he could have settled in one of several other places with more distance between them. As she cradled her drink between her palms, she debated what to talk about.

  “This is a very nice suite,” Cameron murmured.

  She blinked, and tried not to laugh at the nervousness in his voice. He acted as if he had never seen it before. “It is,” she agreed. “Although I’ve never been in a bad one. Everything Castillo is top of the line.”

  She let her attention drift around the room, hoping he didn’t realize she spoke about him. The room was beautiful, though. Black marble floors in the kitchenette, heavy brocade drapes, plush carpeting from corner to corner. Everything top notch. Floor-to-ceiling windows allowed the lights of the city to shine. Her eyes wandered to the open bedroom door. The freshly made bed begged to be rumpled. There was a soft glow from one side of the room, probably the small reading lamp.

  Cameron followed her gaze then looked away. “What do you do, Ginger?”

  She raised her brows at the obvious ploy. Okay. “I’m a corporate security analyst. Mostly business, although my firm does sometimes take personal events. Weddings, birthdays, special gatherings.”

  He shifted on the seat. “I thought I recognized you when I saw your face, but I didn’t know for sure until you gave me your first name. I read one of your articles recently, about terrorist threats. Fascinating. And well-reasoned. I think you’ve done a couple of things for the family, as well.”

  Ginger nodded, disappointed. He had known who she was the entire time. Her false sense of anonymity disintegrated. “I have. Jackson keeps my firm on retainer, as well, for certain occasions.” She sipped at the coffee. “You should’ve told me you recognized me.”