Sexy All Over

by Jamie Sobrato

  He smiled. “I guess I should tell you, I’m not much of a biscotti fan. I just came up here for the sex.”

  She tossed the bag aside and smiled as she perched herself on the countertop in front of him. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  “So, about that skill demonstration you mentioned…”

  “I don’t usually do it for an audience,” she said in a half whisper as she leaned in close to him.

  “You never once had an orgasm with a guy before Friday night?”

  Naomi shook her head. “You make it sound criminal.”

  “It should be, for the guys involved. You’ve really had to take care of yourself for all these years?”

  Not that it was any of his business, but the pushy journalist in him couldn’t resist asking.

  “I guess I’m a freak of nature,” she said, spreading her legs until her skirt slid up her thighs.

  “You’re definitely not a freak of nature.”

  Naomi laughed. “Too bad there’s not an Olympic Games for that kind of thing. I’d finally have a sport I could be competitive in.”

  “Maybe you could teach me a few things.”

  “I hate to be the one to break the news, but we’ve got different equipment. The techniques don’t translate very well.”

  Zane’s cock stirred again in his pants, ready for any techniques she was willing to demonstrate. “I meant, you could probably teach me a few things about your body, since you’re the best expert on it.”

  A slow smile spread across Naomi’s lips. “I’m sure I couldn’t teach you anything you don’t already know.”

  “You’re giving me too much credit.” He trailed his hand up her side, along the dip in her waist and up her rib cage to the soft fullness of her breasts. He brushed against her gently. “I want to watch you,” he said.

  She closed her eyes, her face soft and vulnerable, as he teased her nipples. Then she slid her hands up her thighs, pushed her skirt all the way up, and pulled her panties down.

  Her legs spread wide open in front of him, she gave Zane a tempting view of her pretty pink folds, and it was all he could do not to take her right then and there.

  She dipped her fingers inside herself, first one, then two, then three. Then she slipped them back out and began rubbing her clit oh-so-slowly.

  He was so mesmerized by the show, he almost didn’t notice that she’d opened her eyes and was watching him, watching her.

  “I think it’s only fair,” she finally said, “that if I teach you all my best techniques, you have to teach me yours.”

  Zane stood up from the bar stool and pulled her tight against him so that she could feel the fullness of his erection. He kissed her with all his pent-up desire.

  “I think you’ve got yourself a deal,” he said.

  He might have problems on his hands come morning, but tonight, he had only one thing on his mind.

  ZANE RANG NAOMI’S DOORBELL and waited, as his insides protested the fact that he was about to say goodbye to her. He’d already seen her once today at the salon, where she’d overseen the chopping off of three inches of his hair, so now he had a new haircut that didn’t look bad at all.

  He had to admit, Naomi was very good at her job. Even he could see the logic of her argument about why he needed to lose the rebel-without-a-comb look. He didn’t necessarily agree with it, but he did want to keep his job, and if looking like a prep-school grad was the way to do it, then what the hell. He’d save his own style for after-work hours.

  Naomi’d had to run off to an appointment with a new client right after his haircut, so she’d asked him if he could stop by her place later for a final discussion about his makeover.

  Whatever. He didn’t have any makeover issues to discuss, but he did want to see her again, which is why he’d agreed to come by. He should have insisted they meet in a public place to avoid a replay of last night, but what could he say? He knew they had private things to discuss.

  He’d spent the morning tracking down sources for the Atchison Tyler story, and it looked as if three were willing to talk to him, which meant he could probably break the story by the end of the week.

  And permanently end his chances of anything ever happening with him and Naomi again.

  The sound of heels clicking on tile could be heard from inside, and then Naomi opened the door. Her sleek brown hair had been swept up on top of her head in a sexy career-girl style, and her pale blue suit hugged curves he realized then he wasn’t ready to let go of. She was talking on the phone to someone, but she smiled and waved him in.

  “Hey,” he said in a stage whisper as he entered.

  To the person on the phone, she said, “I hear what you’re saying, but it’s not going to happen. I can’t see you.”

  Zane went into the living room and sat down on the burgundy couch cluttered with pillows, unable to resist eavesdropping. He sat back, and the pillows nearly swallowed him up.

  “I have to go now,” she said. “I have a visitor…. No, I’m not going to forgive and forget…. Goodbye,” she said and hung up the phone.

  She came into the room and sat down near him. “Sorry about that.”

  “Didn’t sound like a client.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not a client, just a pain in the ass.”

  Zane realized he had no claim on Naomi, but some little part of him felt a stab of jealousy for what had sounded like a conversation with a guy.

  She smiled as she surveyed his appearance. “You look great!”

  “Don’t make too big a deal out of it. I may have to mess up my hair or something.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll pretend you look like something the cat dragged in.”

  Zane smiled. “Do you have a cat?”

  “Just an imaginary one. She’s low maintenance, and she never sheds.”

  “Oh. That’s…bizarre.”

  “You’ve got to allow a girl a few eccentricities.”

  “Aren’t you worried about your image being compromised?”

  She shrugged. “I’m a multifaceted girl. Are you ready for your big test?”

  “This won’t involve multiple choice questions, will it? Because I’m lousy at those.”

  “It’s more of an oral exam.”

  “I feel kind of bad telling you this now, but…”

  “Don’t tell me you returned all the clothes.”

  “No, the clothes are fine. It’s just that this makeover might have been for nothing. I got a call on my cell phone on the way over here from Spectra News Network. I guess word leaked out about my troubles at Mediacom, and now Spectra wants to hire me.”

  Naomi blinked. “Wow.”

  “They made an interesting offer. I’ll have my agent present it to Jack and see what Mediacom’s willing to counter with.”

  “This is excellent news. You’re going to end up being their darling again.”

  Zane shrugged. “I don’t know if I give a damn one way or the other. I guess I’ve started doing some soul-searching since this whole ‘change your image’ ultimatum came down, and I’ve realized it’s time for some kind of a change—I just don’t know what.”

  “Maybe Spectra is the change you’re looking for. Aren’t they based in New York City? Would you move if you took the job?”

  Zane nodded. “Looks like I would have to move.”

  He’d grown up moving all over the world as a navy brat while his father served in the military, and he’d never felt an attachment to one particular place—certainly not sprawling, humid Atlanta. But for reasons he couldn’t explain, the idea of leaving here now had him feeling edgy and off center.

  Her forehead creased. “Do you have any family here?”

  “No, most of my family lives in Maryland now, so I’d actually be a little closer to them in New York.”

  “Well, whatever you decide, it’s been a pleasure working with you.” She grinned. “And I mean that in the most literal sense.”

  “Am I your all-time favorite client?”


  “No contest,” she said with a little laugh. “I asked you here because I was going to review your on-camera style, but it sounds like you’ve already got what the networks are looking for.”

  “Can I call you for emergency image advice if I ever need it?” he joked.

  “Absolutely. But for now, I think my work here is done.”

  “Thank God.”

  A smile played on Naomi’s lips. “Has working with me been that awful?”

  He pinned her with a look that should have said it all. “You know that’s not true. I just wasn’t crazy about being made over against my will.”

  “I know what you mean. Whatever you do, you’ll be a success. You’ve got that star quality—people can’t look away when you’re on camera.”

  “How about off camera?”

  She sighed. “I think you know how I feel about your off-camera presence.”

  “Yeah,” he said, feeling an unwelcome tightness in his throat. “Same here.”

  “I always give my clients a chance to fill out a report card on me,” she said, picking up a piece of paper from the coffee table.

  She handed it to him, and a glance revealed it to be a survey.

  “I can tell you now, you get tens on everything,” he said as he set the paper aside.

  “Any constructive feedback?”

  “You should know, it’s pretty unprofessional to sleep with your clients.” He grinned, and she slapped him on the leg.

  “I’ll remember that!” She laughed, then sobered. “Really though, I’m curious, being a person in the business of images—what’s your overall impression of me?”

  “Polished perfection. If you were a car, you’d be the gleaming showroom model.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I love it when guys compare me to vehicles.”

  “Hey, it’s an analogy, that’s all. But I’m not finished. You project the image of someone who’s in control of herself and things around her. You try not to appear too uptight, and sometimes you succeed. You turn heads wherever you go, partly because you dress so well and partly because you’re beautiful and well groomed. But none of that has much to do with who you really are.”

  Naomi propped her head on her hand as she listened. She was trying to appear casual, unmoved by his observations. “You don’t think so?”

  He shrugged. “Just going by my journalist’s instincts.”

  “So how do my public image and the real me differ?”

  “Don’t you know?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. I think I’m pretty up-front about who I am, so I’m interested to hear your opinion.”

  “You’ve got a lot going on under that polished surface. When I first met you, I thought you were just another high-maintenance babe.”

  Her eyebrows shot up, and when she recovered, she flashed a wry grin.

  Zane continued, possibly digging his own grave, he realized. “I soon saw my error though. You’re not high-maintenance so much as you are exacting. You’re a perfectionist, but I like that your high standards apply mainly to yourself—not to everyone around you.”

  She smiled. “Except the people who pay me.”

  “You may think you’re at your best when you’re all polish and expensive suits, but I’ve seen you at your best, and it’s when you’ve let your guard down—when you’re not trying to be perfect.”

  “I don’t try to be perfect,” she said. “I just aim for my own personal best.”

  Zane tried not to smile. She took this stuff seriously, no doubt, and he couldn’t help finding it all charming. Naomi was his polar opposite. No damn wonder she was so irresistible to him.

  He edged closer to her on the couch, then leaned in close. “I’ll tell you a secret. You’re at your personal best when you’re naked in my bed.”

  “How about naked on my couch?”

  His cock stirred at the sexy shift of conversation. But he’d come here to end their relationship, not prolong it. He’d be a supreme asshole if he slept with her again, knowing he was about to ruin her father’s career, knowing he didn’t have the spine to tell her the truth.

  “How do we always manage to turn these meetings into something sexual?” he said, his tone teasing, his body anything but.

  “I guess that’s what happens when you base a relationship on sex and business—the two get confused.”

  “I haven’t been confused,” he said. “Have you?”

  “Maybe a little. This isn’t exactly my standard consultant-client arrangement.”

  “Yeah, to be honest, I’ve never slept with my image consultant before.”

  “Because you’ve never had one before?”

  “Oh, right.” Part of him wanted to kiss her, and part of him—his damn nagging conscience—wanted to set things straight, once and for all.

  “So, if I’m at my best in bed, does that mean I’m in the wrong career field?”

  “I was only telling a half-truth. You’re at your best all the time. I’ve never met a woman more polished, intelligent, beautiful and fun than you.”

  “Now you’re just blowing smoke.”

  “No, I’m being honest. And while I’m being honest…” His gut clenched. “I have to tell you, I think we shouldn’t keep doing what we’ve been doing.”

  Her smile vanished, but she said, “I agree. I was just trying to figure out how to say the same thing to you.”

  Zane breathed a sigh of relief. “If we keep going like we have been—”

  “Someone’s going to get hurt,” she filled in for him.

  “Exactly.”

  She smiled, but it had a brittle quality. “I’m glad we agree on this.”

  There was an awkward silence. Zane had never had to do a sit-down to end a sexual relationship before, but that’s what happened when you mixed business with pleasure.

  “This is kind of…weird, huh?” Naomi finally said.

  “Yeah, I’m used to ending a fling by just not answering phone calls.”

  She expelled a nervous laugh. “You’re my first fling, and probably my last.”

  I’m going to miss you, he wanted to say. But what purpose would it serve? And was it really true?

  Definitely true, and definitely not a good idea to say it.

  “I’m honored,” he said. “Hope you have a few good memories.”

  “More than a few.”

  “Me, too,” he said, making the understatement of the year.

  “We’d better say ‘bye’ now before we have any more of those awkward silences.”

  Zane stood up from the couch and extended a hand to her. When she was standing in front of him, the temptation to take her in his arms and carry her to the bedroom was almost more than he could handle. She was the biggest threat to his unattached lifestyle that he’d ever faced, and he knew he’d be smart to get out while he still could, while the getting out was still easy.

  He leaned in and placed a soft, let’s-stay-friends kiss on her cheek, careful not to embrace her or touch her more than he would a friend.

  “Bye,” he said. “Thank you.”

  “Bye,” she said in a soft voice as Zane turned to leave.

  His stomach did a flip, and his chest tightened. For a casual, mutually agreed-upon breakup of an affair that had barely gotten started, this was sure as hell feeling like anything but.

  13

  TALIA UNDRESSED in front of the mirror in Ken’s bedroom, checking herself for signs of too much dessert. She wasn’t a natural athlete by any means and didn’t hold any special affection for sweaty activities that took place outside of bed, but she did give it the old college try when it came to keeping her body up.

  And she was lucky. She’d been blessed with a naturally strong figure, not slender, but very well proportioned.

  In the other room, she could hear Ken banging around, setting up for their photo session. He claimed his music room was easily converted to a photography studio, and she’d believe it when she saw it.

  Talia had always imagined that someday
she’d do some boudoir photos to capture the fact that she’d had a great body. It would be something to comfort her in her old age, when even hours at the gym wouldn’t be able to save her from the cruel effects of gravity.

  But she’d never dated a photographer before, never really contemplated the fun possibilities of herself naked with a guy and his camera. Sure, she’d played around with her own digital camera and its self-timer for the sake of sending naughty e-mail attachments, but to think of her body raised to the level of fine art…It was an incredible turn-on.

  “You ready?” Ken poked his head inside the room, but when he caught sight of her in front of the mirror naked, his gaze darkened.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Suddenly, she was having a few doubts. What if she looked like a cow on film? Didn’t they say the camera adds ten pounds?

  But Ken came into the bedroom, his gaze locked on her. “You look incredible,” he said, and her doubts began to melt away.

  Then he took her in his arms and lifted her onto the dresser, and she couldn’t remember what she’d been having doubts about. He pressed between her legs, spread them wide, dipped his thumb down to rub against her clit, and she was suddenly ready for a hell of a lot more than a photo session.

  “Do you do this with all your girlfriends?” she asked, breathless.

  “Do what?”

  “Take their picture?”

  “No, and I usually don’t have girlfriends.”

  That was when she realized her slip. Her assumption. Girlfriend? Where had that come from?

  But then Ken was working some suction magic on her breasts, getting her so worked up she couldn’t imagine taking a break for photos, and she decided to let her own mistake slide. What the hell did it matter, when she felt this incredible? She let her head fall back, thrust her breasts harder against his mouth, and sighed.

  He made a warm, wet path up her chest and neck to her ear. “You ready to get started?”

  “I hope you mean pleasuring me, not photographing me.”

  He smiled. “I thought it would be nice to get that look of arousal in your photos. You’re even more beautiful when you’re turned on.”