Curves for Casanova

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, businesses, and incidents are from the author’s imagination, or they are used fictitiously and are definitely fictionalized. Any trademarks or pictures herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored by or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks or pictures used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form (electronic or print) without permission from the author, except in the embodiment of reviews.

Editor: Leanore Elliott

Cover Art provided

By

Wicked Muse Covers

©May, 2013; Seraphina Donava
n

CHAPTER ONE

Libby Jones stepped into the elevator.  She hated them and always had. The small enclosed spaces made her nervous. However, given that her only other option was to run into the last person in the world she wanted to see, she would use the closet like contraption.

Accepting this
job a few months ago, she’d thought it was a godsend. But…that was before she’d realized who the McBray in McBray Enterprises was. Humiliation burned through her at the memory of the one time they’d met before and all she wanted was to dig a hole and crawl into it. For two months now, she’d avoided seeing him, or more correctly, she’d avoided letting him see her.

Pressing the button in a flurry of panic, she let out a startled yelp as the closing doors slid open again and a man shouldere
d his way inside.

Her luck had indeed run out on this particular
afternoon, when he nearly appeared beside her in the elevator. 

Lookin
g up, she felt her heart sink. Finding herself alone in the elevator with none other than Gavin McBray, tech genius and billionaire playboy, was her worst nightmare. 

Memories of their previous meeting, of hot and steamy kisses in a darkened hallway while
a party raged beyond the doors, passed through her mind. Visions of his hands sliding over her body and pressing tightly against her, assaulted her senses once more.

T
hey were near to ravaging each other when buzzing of his phone, incessant and intrusive had brought her crashing back to sanity. 

While he’d taken the call, apparently a very important one, she’d slipped away and made her way down the dock to a waiting taxi
. At the time, she’d told herself it was for the best, because one night stands weren’t her thing, even if they were with men who looked like her most secret fantasy come to life. 

It was only after taking the job at McBray that she’d discov
ered who her almost lover was. Desperate for work, she’d told herself she could manage it. As a lowly secretary, they were hardly likely to even see one another, she’d told herself. In fact, they were about as far apart socially as any two humans could be. 

N
ow they were face to face, and she was caught…completely and utterly caught.

She’d only been at that party because her cousin, a model, had woun
d up with an extra invitation. Recalling the slow dance they’d shared, and how he’d led her from the dance floor to a deserted hallway, Libby felt like she couldn’t quite catch her breath. Trying to remind herself that he was her boss now and that it was unacceptable to jump on him and climb him like a tree.

Her saner half told her
it would be utterly humiliating if she did that and he fired her, or worse if wasn’t attracted at all. She braced herself for the awkward silence.

Libby
then tried to distract herself from the feeling of an overwhelming attraction as her gaze fell to her feet. She abruptly became too aware of her outfit now, her shoes were from a thrift store and her clothes had come from the clearance rack of a close-out store. Hoping, that he wouldn’t even look at her, she felt immediately uncomfortable. 

“You’re Jones,” he said. 

Libby was fairly certain she squeaked aloud as she said a fervent prayer that perhaps he’d enough champagne that night not to remember her. Turning to look at him, her eyes wide and feeling like an idiot, she answered, “Yes, sir. Libby Jones.”

“Liberty, i
f I remember correctly,” he prompted. 

S
he could have groaned at that. “Yes, sir.”

He nodded.
“How do you like working for me, Miss Jones?”

“
I love my job, sir,” she lied. She hated her job. Oh, of course she loved the pay, but the work itself was about as challenging as a game of tic-tac-toe. 

“Really?” he challenged. 

Libby saw the gleam in his eye.

It seemed h
e knew she’d lied. 

“Honestly?” she muttered
, seeing that at this point fessing up was her only option, “I feel that I’m being underutilized. I would prefer to have more responsibility.”  Satisfied that her answer was sufficiently businesslike, she tried to look anywhere but directly at him. 

He didn’t respond, just kept his gray eyes trained on he
r, his expression inscrutable.

Fearing she’d overstepped, or worse, been recognized, Libby added, “But
, I am grateful to have a job. I’m paid very well for the work I do, and I’m hoping that in time, I can advance within the company and put my skills to better use.”

He smiled then.
“What a diplomat you are, Miss Jones... Speaking of diplomacy, what is an appropriate way to address the sensitive topic of our first meeting?”

She
closed her eyes with a nervous clenching running through her body. “I was rather hoping we wouldn’t.”

“Liberty, you ran from me. Women never run from me.
How could we not?”

Libby didn’t respond, in part because she didn’t have an appropriate response and in part
, because the elevator made a sound unlike anything she’d ever heard, before it came to a shuddering halt. “What was that?”

“I believe it’s called mechanica
l failure,” Gavin answered her seemingly panicked question. “It’s fine. The elevator has a failsafe breaking system that works independently of the engine. Just because it stopped doesn’t mean it’ll fall.”

“I know
that,” she answered in a near whisper. Her voice sounded thin and breathless. “I hate feeling trapped. As long as it’s moving, it doesn’t feel that way, but with it stopped--” She began to hyperventilate.

Gavin stood very still as if he had no idea what to do.

They
were
trapped. Libby thought wildly. Maybe for him, it was an inconvenience, for her it was truly like a nightmare.

“Liberty
?”

Libby couldn’t answer.
She couldn’t speak, and she felt like her lungs were going to explode, but she was unable to stop drawing in the great lungfuls of air, even as her vision began to fade around the edges. Just as she was accepting it, giving into the fact that she was probably going to pass out, she felt him step closer, his hands seizing her upper arms.

She looked up at
him and his mouth was on hers. Stunned, she simply stood there as he kissed her. It wasn’t some horribly invasive kiss, where he shoved his tongue down her throat. In fact, he didn’t use his tongue at all. He simply melded his lips over hers, touching them softly, moving them expertly over hers in such a way that she forgot the elevator and everything else. 

The files she’d bee
n clutching fell to the floor. The heat was there, blossoming between them just as it had before. His hands on her arms and his lips over hers were the only points of contact, but it felt as if her whole body had simply been set ablaze.

A soft hum of pleasure escaped her, and she felt
him smile against her lips. His hands coasted over her arms, until his fingers twined with hers and he raised her hands to his shoulders, bringing them closer, until their bodies skimmed lightly against one another, a teasing and tantalizing promise.

Standing so close that she could feel the heat from his body, he lifted his mouth from hers and stared down at her. 

“You kissed me,” she stated the obvious, but still sounded surprised. 

“You were hyperventilating—
and I don’t have any paper bags.”

Libby had
no idea what to say to that.
Kissing as first aid?
  “Oh, um—thank you?”

He laughed.
“Since, I’m probably going to wind up in court anyway. I’ll go ahead and say it... I enjoyed kissing you, just as I did at Carlton’s party. Just as I hope to again very soon.”

Confused, Libby said the first thing that came to mind. “But I’m not a model.”

*~*~*

When the elevator halted with a shudder, Gavin had
intended to make some inane comment and turn the conversation back to the burning question of why the gorgeous redhead had bolted when they last met.

H
e took in the look of absolute terror on her face and it stopped him. He was overcome with the urge to kiss her and even told himself it was to get her mind off the elevator entrapment.

When he broke the kiss he was exhilarated and excited about seeing this intoxicating woman again in his life.

Then, she looked so puzzled at his interest in her, with the ‘I’m not a model’ line. Gavin sighed. And there it was, he thought, his image rearing its ugly head. Yes, he dated models because they were accessible to him. He often met them at parties and they wanted to be seen on his arm and photographed for the tabloids. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. 

More often than not, h
e’d taken them to his bed, of course. He was a man and they were more than willing, but he’d yet to meet one that he wanted to keep there. They were a bit like wax fruit, he’d thought at one point, beautiful on the outside, but once you got past the augmented breasts, the plumped lips, the botoxed foreheads, there was nothing satisfying about them, other than their appearance.

This was true for him and his dating, until he’d met Libby. She’
d stood out from the crowd, just as beautiful as any of those women, but so much more because she’d been real. There was a vulnerability in her that called to him. There was no coyness or guile.

His first sight of her that night, she’d had her head thrown back, laughing with the bartender, a person most of the guests
pointedly ignored.  Open, friendly, inviting, he’d been drawn to her immediately. 

Steadying himself, he finally answered her question.
“How is that relevant to the fact that I just kissed you? Besides, I know you’re not a model. I scoured every modeling agency in the city after that party looking for you, but you‘d vanished.” Gavin now went full circle to his original question. “Why did you run?”

*~*~*

Libby thought back to that time. She’d regretted running out on him. Even as the taxi had sped away that night, she’d bemoaned the fact that she hadn’t given in to the undeniable passion which had exploded between them. 

At the repeated question, she
cocked her head to the side while gazing up at him. He still stood close, his face mere inches from hers.

She could feel the heat of his body, though beyond the kiss, he hadn’t touched her. “Well, Mr. McBray, you might be used to women who will go home with a man at the drop of a hat, but I’m not used to being one of them... I was out of my depth there. I only went to that party because my cousin had an extra invitation, but standing there in the midst of all those thin, gorgeous women? I knew I didn’t belong.”

“Gavin. My name is Gavin,” he corrected without touching on the subject of the elite crowd or the defense of her personal morals. “Have dinner with me tonight and let me convince you of just how beautiful you are.”