Just Toying Around… Read online

  No. She hadn’t. Meg glanced behind her to confirm what he said and, sure enough, they did indeed share a connecting door. She didn’t know quite what to make of that, and decided to sort the conundrum out when a half-naked man wasn’t standing less than two feet from her.

  “Would you mind if I came in out of the hall?” he asked, gesturing behind him as a couple of teenagers tittered past. “I’m attracting quite a bit of attention. The kind that could get me arrested.”

  Meg started. “Oh. Sure. Sorry.”

  He murmured a thanks as Meg stepped back and allowed him to come in. A clean, masculine fragrance bathed her as he passed, making her knees go weak. Gathering her scattered wits, she hurried to the bed and drew the coverlet over the newest batch of products awaiting her critique, then she doubled back and unlocked her side of the connecting door. She could feel his observant gaze following her.

  “Is your side locked?” she asked.

  He shoved an impatient hand through his damp hair and swore hotly.

  Meg took that as a yes. “Er, why don’t you call down to the front desk and ask someone to come up and open your door? You can wait in here until they arrive.”

  “Thanks.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then lifted the receiver and dialed the front desk. “I’m really sorry about this. I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.”

  Meg pretended to check her watch. “I’ve got a few minutes.”

  What she really had was a bad case of lust. The man had the best ass she’d ever seen. The damp terrycloth clung to the hard muscles of his butt like butter over warm bread. The finely sculpted muscles of his back glistened with wet droplets and, strangely, Meg found herself consumed with a peculiar urge to nibble a path from his sinewy shoulder up the curiously vulnerable side of his neck.

  Heat swamped her, made her breasts heavy, her sex moist. She’d never been more attracted to a man in her life.

  “They said they’d send someone up in a moment,” he told her. He tightened his towel, glancing about the room as though unsure of what to do or say next.

  Making an attempt to be some sort of hostess, Meg hastily scooped up her discarded clothes from the back of the only desk chair. While she’d unpacked all of her things and arranged them to her satisfaction, she’d yet to clear away her dirty clothes. “Have a seat,” she offered, summoning a weak smile.

  “Thanks.” Firmly holding the towel in place, he folded his big frame into the chair.

  “So how did you come to get locked out of your room? Like that?” she asked meaningfully, gesturing toward the towel. Her gaze lingered just a fraction longer than necessary.

  “I thought I heard someone knock on my door, stepped out into the hall, and the door closed before I could get back in.” He lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug and grinned. “Bet it happens to everyone.”

  Meg’s lips quirked. “I’m sure it does.”

  “Has it ever happened to you?”

  “Nope.”

  He chuckled, the sound a rich, deep rumble. “You could have lied. I was almost feeling better.”

  “Sorry.” Meg laughed. “Sucks to be you.”

  His eyes widened at that comment and an outright laugh burst from his chest, making the muscles dance across his abdomen. “Yes, right now, it does sorta suck to be me,” he admitted. He extended his hand. “I’m Nick Devereau, by the way.”

  “Desiree Moon.” Meg didn’t even hesitate. The lie rolled off her tongue before she’d even realized she’d said it. She didn’t know what exactly had possessed her to do that, but it felt incredibly liberating. Wicked. That settled it, Meg decided. For this week only, she would be Desiree Moon and all that persona entailed. A delightful quiver eddied through her.

  She took his hand, felt the warm masculine palm dwarf her smaller one. A zing sparkled up her spine at the contact. Swift. Tingling. Hot.

  An intriguing grin claimed his lips and an equally intriguing glint stewed in his sexy, heavy-lidded caramel gaze. “It’s a pleasure,” he murmured.

  Oy. Indeed it was.

  A brisk knock sounded at the door, breaking the charged silence.

  Meg withdrew her sensitized hand and straightened, reluctant to see him go now that she’d decided to pursue the life of her alter ego. “That’ll be for you.”

  He stood as well and followed her across the room. All the while she was aware of his scrutiny. She could feel that hot stare. It made her all shivery inside.

  Meg opened the door so that he could meet the bellhop in the hallway. He paused, then leaned toward her, bringing his tantalizing scent with him. “Thanks, again.”

  Meg resisted the urge to chew her nail. To bite her fist. “You’re welcome.”

  He turned to go, but seemingly thought better of it and swung back to face her. “Look, could we get a drink later?”

  Delight bloomed in her chest, resulting in a small smile. “Sure. Just knock.” She gestured toward the connecting door.

  He grinned. “Until then.”

  Meg leaned against the open doorway as he left, once again mesmerized by his sheer physical beauty. That back. Mercy. Hmm-hmm-hmm. That ass.

  Meg straightened, horror dawning.

  That ass…had her bra dangling from it.

  The hooks had gotten caught in the cloth.

  Meg darted out into the hall just as the bellhop planted the key card into the lock. Nick started at her abrupt appearance, then smiled. “Desiree?”

  “Nick, uhhh…”

  He frowned. “Is something wrong?”

  Meg tentatively moved toward him, her gaze darting to where her bra swung drunkenly from the towel. “I, uh…just wanted to let you know I’ll be back in my room by eight.”

  He smiled. “Okay.”

  The bellhop opened the door and Nick moved to go in. Meg lunged and attempted to covertly snatch her bra. The hook hung stubbornly, and to Meg’s slack-jawed astonishment, she not only managed to snag her bra—she snagged his towel as well.

  Mortification momentarily burned her cheeks, robbed her of speech. Her gaze was riveted to the only part of his anatomy she’d been unable to properly peruse. Unable to control herself, her lips curled into an appreciative smile.

  She’d been right.

  He was definitely well proportioned.

  3

  “FLASHING HER, that’s a direct approach. Little forward if you aren’t going to seduce her.” Ron licked his forefinger, leaned forward and smoothed his eyebrows, then stood back and admired his Fonzie-like reflection. “Myself personally, I like to woo a woman.”

  “Woo?”

  “Yes, woo. It’s all part of the chase, the thrill of the hunt.”

  “This is a woman, Ron. Not an elk, for chrissakes.” Dropping into the desk chair in his brother’s room, Nick exhaled wearily and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He shuddered to think of what Ron considered wooing. A trip through a drive-thru, then back to his place to show off his lava lamp collection?

  “So what’s she look like? She a hottie?”

  A cloud of dark-chocolate hair, kiss-me mossy-green eyes, smooth skin and a mouth designed for sin flashed through Nick’s mind. The hair, the eyes and the skin were pleasing to look at, not remarkable on their own. But the mouth that tied it all together… Damn.

  “She’s attractive,” Nick managed, feeling a telltale tightening in his groin.

  Ron nodded, apparently satisfied with Nick’s assessment. “So, did you sense any interest? She hot for you yet?”

  “She’s interested,” Nick said casually.

  And though he had no intention of taking advantage of the situation, she was most definitely hot for him.

  Out of all the uncertainties surrounding this scheme, Nick didn’t have a doubt about that one fact. She’d practically devoured him with her eyes. That bold green gaze had inventoried every inch of his exposed flesh…and then some.

  Nick took care of his body, worked out regularly. He wasn’t ignorant of his build and the resulting effect i
t had on women. He’d been covertly studied before. But he’d never been so intensely scrutinized. Never felt a woman’s gaze like that.

  Furthermore, when his towel had come off, she’d made no pretense of turning away. Her gaze had dropped to his male equipment, lingered, then she’d had the audacity to smile.

  Appreciatively.

  Nick found himself equally intrigued and baffled. Baffled because, while he’d gone into her room to set things into motion, he’d been the one knocked for a loop. He’d demonstrated an appalling lack of control, something he never permitted himself to do. Something that mustn’t happen again.

  Ron grunted as he shoved a foot into his boot, pulling Nick from his reverie. “Listen, if you find anything out tonight that might be helpful, give me a call no matter what time. Keep me posted. I—I need to know what’s happening, okay? This is my future we’re trying to protect.”

  “Sure,” Nick said, frowning at the desperation in Ron’s tone. Ron was very adept at playing him, Nick knew, but he seemed genuinely worried this time. Who knew with Ron? It could only be wishful thinking. “But I seriously doubt anything will happen tonight. We’re just meeting for drinks.”

  Ron’s brow furrowed. “Whatever. Just call me. I’m meeting Cindy, but should be back by ten.”

  “Cindy?”

  Ron smiled. “The check-in clerk. I’m giving her some free samples.”

  Nick’s brows rose. On that note, he decided to take his leave. He stood. Desiree had said she’d be back by eight, and it was pushing that now. “I’m gone,” Nick told him, heading for the door.

  “Work your magic, big brother.” He paused, giving Nick a small glimpse of Ron’s more vulnerable side. “I’ve got a lot riding on this.”

  That last statement lacked Ron’s trademark bravado and, for the first time, Nick detected a hint of fear in his brother’s voice. Ron was genuinely afraid of losing this business. Fear was the beginning of wisdom. Given that, perhaps the end would justify the means.

  Nick fervently hoped so.

  “MR. KENT will be arriving tomorrow. He rarely attends these trade shows, but he’s very anxious to meet you.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting him as well,” Meg murmured. Marcus Kent, the senior editor for Foreplay magazine, had recently decided to personally handle Desiree Moon’s reviews. They had communicated via e-mail and telephone, but had never met in person.

  “Do you have everything you need?” Ann Dolan, Marcus’s assistant asked. “Everything in your room to your liking?” She smiled. “You’re our star, you know. I was told to keep you happy.”

  Meg laughed. “I’m happy and I have everything I need, thank you.”

  “Good.” Ann sighed. “Well, we’ve covered your schedule, outlined your workshop. I think we’ve done everything we were supposed to do.” She quirked a brow. “Would you like to go to the lounge and get a drink?”

  Meg hesitated. She nudged up her sleeve and checked her watch. “Er, actually I’m supposed to meet someone.”

  Ann’s eyes widened. “Oh, of course,” she said knowingly. “You brought Antonio. Naturally, you would. Duh.” Ann popped her forehead with the palm of her hand. “This is a trade show. You’re here to critique. How else would you…well, you know?”

  “I, uh—”

  She nodded approvingly. “Mr. Kent will like that,” Ann confided. “The majority of our critics are women. He’s been very interested in getting a fresh hetero male perspective. I’m supposed to call in tonight with a report. I’ll be sure and let him know that you brought your partner with you. He’s been anxious to meet the legendary Antonio,” she shared with a droll smile. “We all have.”

  Meg’s insides froze. Antonio? The fictitious Antonio? “Well,” Meg faltered, “I’m not sure that my, uh— That Antonio would be comfortable talking about our—”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. Mr. Kent will put him right at ease. He has a way of doing that.”

  That would be fine, Meg thought, if she had an Antonio to put at ease! How on earth would she get out of this mess? She’d have to think of something, and quick. The man would be here tomorrow, expecting to meet her…and dear old Antonio. Dread mushroomed inside her. Her dinner—which she’d enjoyed—curdled in her stomach.

  “Well, I won’t keep you,” Ann told her, standing. She drew her purse from the back of the chair. “I’m sure you’re anxious to get upstairs and, er, get started.”

  Meg managed a weak goodbye. Her mind whirled. Actually, she had been anxious to get back upstairs so that she could wait for Nick. But now… Now, she had a mess to deal with. It had never occurred to her that she would need to bring a partner, that they would expect her to have him here with her.

  But it should have.

  This was a sex-toy trade show and she, a critic.

  Meg absently worried her bottom lip. Well, she would think of something. She would make up a lie. She’d simply tell them that poor Antonio had been called home on an emergency. His mother was ill, his house had been hit by a tornado, his brother needed a kidney transplant and he was the only match. Something. Meg snorted at the extreme scenarios her desperate mind created. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought. Might as well make it a good one.

  Meg stood and refused to think about it anymore. She would handle it in the morning. Right now she needed to get back upstairs. To wait for Nick. A tingle of excitement bubbled through her.

  Though the meal had been delicious, she’d barely been able to eat. It had been a long time since she’d had anything that remotely resembled a date—she’d been too busy double-timing it up her career path to enjoy any sort of social life—and something about this guy… Meg paused consideringly. Physical attraction aside, something about this guy seemed different. She didn’t know exactly what yet, but she intuitively knew that the potential for something extraordinary had been presented to her and she didn’t intend to waste it.

  Besides, now that she’d decided to momentarily ditch her ho-hum life and trade it in for the week for an exciting one, she couldn’t wait to get started. Meg shuddered to think about what that said about the life she’d led to date, that she’d be so willing to abandon it. True, since the scholarship fiasco she’d forsaken all men and pursued her career with single-minded determination. But had it really been that bad? That boring? That empty?

  Yes.

  With that disturbing realization in mind, Meg hurried to her room. Rather than sit on the end of the bed and twiddle her thumbs while she waited for him, she took the opportunity to straighten up. Meg couldn’t stand clutter, liked her surroundings balanced, harmonized and color-coordinated. In her line of work, presentation was almost as important as the quality of the dish she prepared and that mentality had spilled over into other areas of her life. She’d been told she was maddeningly meticulous. Meg grinned. She just considered herself thorough.

  Less than five minutes passed when a soft knock sounded at the connecting door. So he’d been just as anxious. Meg felt a grin tug at her lips. Taking a fortifying breath, she smoothed her jacket and opened the door.

  “Hi,” she managed. He looked devastating. He wore khaki trousers, a white oxford shirt and a come-hither smile that melted Meg’s insides.

  “Ready?”

  “Sure.”

  Meg slipped her key card back into her purse and allowed him to escort her from the room. The sheer size of him struck her again. Her head lay a good two inches below his shoulder. Though totally against her feminist nature, the thought made her feel safe. Protected. This was the sort of man that a cave woman would want to take as a husband. A big, tough, muscled warrior who would defend and protect.

  A ribbon of heat curled through her. Need consumed her, made her knees momentarily go weak. Hell, they hadn’t even made it to the elevator and yet she found herself hit with the insane notion to skip the drinks altogether and drag him back to her room.

  Which was ridiculous, of course, because Meg had never dragged any man to her bed, m
uch less a complete stranger. And while this man happened to be the answer to her every carnal fantasy, he was still a stranger.

  He was just a stranger she was impossibly attracted to.

  But she didn’t have to consider what Meg would do, she reminded herself, only what Desiree would do, and this week she was Desiree. A sly smile curled her lips as she cast a sidelong glance at her companion. The possibilities were endless.

  Nick guided her into the elevator with a hand at her elbow. The minimal contact nonetheless ignited a sparkler of pleasure low in her belly. “Did you enjoy your dinner?” he asked, pulling Meg from her mental musings.

  “I did,” she replied. “What about you? Have you eaten?”

  “I ordered room service.”

  Well, that took care of that line of conversation.

  Now what were they going to talk about? Meg wondered as the silence yawned between them.

  “Fifty percent chance of rain tonight,” he remarked casually.

  “Is that right?”

  He rocked back on his heels. “So I heard.”

  “I like rain,” Meg replied, her lips curling into a small grin.

  “I do, too.”

  “Makes me sleepy.”

  The elevator glided to a smooth halt. He twined his fingers with hers and waited for the doors to open. “That covers the traditional pleasantries,” he murmured, his voice a smooth decadent rumble. “How about we move on to a more interesting topic of conversation.”

  “Like what?” Meg chuckled.

  His lazy, half-lidded gaze captured hers. “You.”

  Oh, he was smooth. Definitely out of her league and she out of her element. What on earth was she doing? “You’d be sadly disappointed if you thought I’d be a more interesting topic of conversation.”

  He gave her a sideways glance. “I doubt it.”

  They strolled into the lounge and found a secluded table tucked past the bar. In a gentlemanly fashion Meg hadn’t witnessed in ages, Nick obligingly pulled out her chair.

  “What would you like to drink?” he asked.

  “Chardonnay.”

  “It’ll be quicker if I go to the bar.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t go away.”