The Cover Model (11 page)

Looking around, she found nearly the entire population in the lobby staring at them both. Some ladies openly ogled his rear, others chuckled and fanned their face. "I think you're causing a scene."

He craned his head this way and that with a grin. "Yeah, that happens when I wear this outfit."

Boy howdy, can I see why.
Fancy wanted to drag him upstairs, help him shimmy out of his clothes, and find a measuring stick. "Why are you wearing that anyway?"

"Cover model meet and greet. I spent the past hour with other models in one of the side rooms, taking pictures with guests, chatting with them, answering questions from the crowd."

"Oh. I had no idea. I would have been there if I did." Fancy found the idea of staring at yummy men a heck of a lot more appealing than when she walked in the front door of the hotel a few days ago.

"That's okay. I'll give you a private viewing later." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

She couldn't help but grin at his over-the-top flirting. Before, she would have rolled her eyes and snorted. Now, she actually enjoyed his teasing, finding him all the more attractive with his humorous side on display.

"Actually, I like that idea."

Surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a sincere smile full of victory and promise.

Her breath caught at the sight.

"Want to get some lunch?"

She slammed on the brakes in her mind and quickly changed gears. "Sure. What did you have in mind?"

"That little soup and sandwich shop?"

"Perfect." She glanced down at her bag of purchases. "I need to drop this off in my room."

"I have to change clothes anyway." He released her and gestured to his outfit. "Not like I can walk around in public like this."

"True. I'd hate for you to get arrested for prostitution." She bit her lip to keep from grinning.

He shook his head and nudged her along with a hand around her back. "Come on, silly. I'm hungry."

As they stepped off the elevator, he glanced at her once more. "I'll meet you in your room in fifteen minutes."

"Deal." She pulled her hotel room key from her pocket, made a beeline for her door, opened it, and stepped in. Dropping her bag on the end of the bed, she hurried to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, checked her hair, then sat down in the chair to watch the clock, her mind replaying the vision of gorgeous Mitch in those snug leathers and the intriguing lump in the front.

Chapter 18

Damn, bro. You've got it bad.
Mitch shook his head, still perplexed how the cute little prudish scientist managed to slip under his skin. He would have never guessed in a million years someone like Fancy would catch his eye and tug at his heart. Always before, he'd leaned toward the faster women, those with generous curves, outgoing confidence, and plenty of experience to know their way around a man's body enough to leave him begging for more. Yet those same women paled in comparison to Fancy. Her trim body, runner's build, long blonde mane. The cute dimple on her left cheek when she grinned.

Even the silliness amused him. Her struggles to find herself immersed in an ocean of new experiences both entertained and inspired him. Each day she relaxed a bit more, slowly blossoming right before his eyes. He couldn't wait to see the end result. No doubt she'll become a beautiful, unique flower shining like the morning sun.

A girl like that wanted commitment, marriage, family. The analytical part of his brain kicked in. In all honesty, he didn't expect to entertain the notion of settling down for a good decade yet. Just under thirty, he had plenty of time to sow his wild oats, sort through the masses of ladies, then finally choose. Yet his best laid plans seemed to be crumbling with the introduction of Fancy.

He wasn't done with her, not nearly so. Their time at the convention might be drawing to a close, but that didn't mean they had to part ways. She'd mentioned her work was just down the street from his office. With such proximity to one another, surely they could find a way to date, to see one another, to pursue what they'd started here in Seattle. Besides, he'd hurt her badly with the Darla fiasco. Although she appeared to forgive him and they seemed back on track, he needed to prove himself once and for all, show her he kept his promises.

Finding his hotel door, he shoved the key in, turned the lock, then stepped in. Automatically pushing the door shut behind him, he stepped into the room, his mind still on the woman who proved a magnetic draw and an enigma at the same time.

"About time you showed up."

Startled, Mitch's head jerked up. He spied Darla sitting calmly in the wooden desk chair, her legs crossed, the short black skirt riding up. Her appearance hadn't changed in a couple of days, but the determined, lustful expression on her face made his skin crawl. Her washed-out green eyes snapped in glee. He spun around but stopped at the obvious clicking of a gun's hammer.

"You're not leaving so soon."

Slowly, he turned, finding a small handgun aimed his direction. Darla stood up and sidestepped, placing herself between him and the door. "I believe we have some unfinished business."

His breath caught while his heart pounded. "What business?" His voice came out nearly as a growl, but he didn't care. He wanted no part of this bitch and her crazy ideas. Unfortunately, he had a bad feeling she wasn't about to take 'no' for an answer.

"You and I are going to have some playtime tonight."

"You're fucking crazy." Anger rushed to the fore. No way would he touch her, have sex with her.

She smiled wolfishly. "You're right. But I always get what I want." Waving her pistol, she gestured to him. "Strip."

"No." He kept his eyes locked on her face and kicked his brain into gear. She wouldn't kill him. That would defeat her purpose. Of course, afterward, the option returned to the table. For now, he debated simply walking out, chancing a bullet to his butt, or attempting to disarm the loon before she accidently shot him somewhere important.

"I have a feeling you're going to change that answer." She shrugged, then picked up a glass of water. "See this?" Darla swirled the liquid, then replaced the glass on the small table. Next, she held up a medicine bottle. "It's bitter almonds. Highly toxic. All I have to do is mix the two together, and we have a deadly poison. Just like I've already done for the stupid twit next door."

Mitch eyed her carefully. "You didn't."

Darla nodded. "A whole pitcher of water and in the glass sitting in her room, just waiting for her to drink."

"You bitch. You can't do this." He started toward her.

She raised the gun once more. "Don't you see? I already have. You try to leave, I'll shoot you. You give me what I want, you get to save the twit."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you want?"

"Simple. You take off your clothes, lie down on the bed, and put these restraints on." She grabbed a bag and tossed his direction.

He let the paper container fall to the floor at his feet. "Then what?"

"We'll have a rip roaring good time. Afterward, I'll let you go in time to warn the uppity bitch next door. By then, I'll be long gone." She nodded toward the leather at his feet. "No harm, no foul and a win-win for me. Now get cracking."

Mitch's mind spun, but one look into the calculating, unbalanced eyes of Darla and he realized she could and would carry out her threat. Hell, she'd probably shoot him if he made a dash for the door, citing the unfortunate incident along the lines of if she couldn't have him, then no one else could. Fear washed over him, not only for himself but for Fancy. If she drank the water Darla supposedly left… He shuddered at the thought.

He trusted Darla about as much as he would place his faith in a congenial rattlesnake, yet one hard fact remained. If she told the truth, he'd be dead before he left the room, which, in turn, sentenced Fancy to death by poisoning.

With no way out, he bent over, collected the restraints, and tossed them on the bed. Then he began stripping as if his life depended on it.

Chapter 19

"Hey, it's been fifteen minutes already. What's taking so long?" Fancy didn't bother to knock, just turned the knob, pushed the door open, and walked in. What she found made her mouth fall open, her eyes widen, and a blow torch blow across her face.

Mitch lay spread-eagle on his bed, both hands and legs secured with some sort of leather straps, like one would see in a psych ward. His nude body tensed as he looked to her, his eyes bright as if trying to decide what to say. Darla's red hair trailed down her back, bringing attention to the black corset she wore. Matching hose and heels completed the outfit.

As she watched, the woman twisted around, showing off bare breasts puffed up by the stiff material and a lack of panties. Anger coated her face.

"Fancy, run!" Mitch yelled from inside the room.

Fancy blinked. "Umm. Excuse me. I'll come back later!" Turning on her heel, she started toward the door. Fleeing seemed a prudent option in order to find a bouncer to rid them of this plague called Darla.

"Come back here!" The stern command stopped Fancy in her tracks. Looking back, she found a small handgun pointed her direction.

"That's better. Now get over here. In this chair." She motioned with the gun.

Surprise turned into fear as the situation came into focus. She kicked her mind in gear, searching for a way out of this ridiculous mess.

"Sit down. I'll handcuff you to the chair so you can watch."

"Watch what?"

"Darla's version of what horny, crazy women do for a fuck." Mitch bit each word out, anger apparent in his voice. He yanked at the restraints. "Shit."

"Shut up!" Darla sighed heavily, her ample bosom heaving. "We were just getting started."

Fancy's gaze fell on Mitch once more, trying to read his expression. He sounded pissed, understandably so. Rage soared at the thought of Darla tying Mitch down, apparently against his will, in order to basically rape the guy. No way. Not on her watch. She racked her brain for ways out of this particular hot mess.

Recalling how Mitch's insults pecked at Darla's control, Fancy followed his example. "Let me see if I got this right. She's so lust-driven after your perfect body, she decided to strap you down and jump on board for a round of ride 'em cowgirl?"

"Yeah. But she didn't bargain for my dick being unwilling." The corners of his mouth kicked up in a tight grin, carrying not the least bit of humor.

"Impotence." Fancy nodded, striding a step closer. "That's a shame." If she could just release his hands, even one, he could free himself. Slowly, in order to keep Darla unawares, she sidled inch by inch.

"Tell me about it." The wooden headboard groaned as Mitch tugged at his bindings once more.

"Probably because of overuse, you know. I've read that happens sometimes. And you haven't actually been a monk in probably decades."

Darla's head snapped back and forth between the two as a tic developed in her jaw.

"Don't you realize tying him up is counterproductive?" Fancy directed the question at Darla. One more step. Still facing their captor, she reached behind her, brushing against the leather restraint tied to the headboard.

"What?"

Rolling her eyes, Fancy continued. "An alpha man like Mitch doesn't like to be tied down. It goes against his natural dominance. Thus, your plan is doomed for failure."

"What the hell do you know?"

She shrugged. "I'm a researcher. I've had enough biology seminars to understand the psyche of the typical male, the alpha male, and the submissive female. Alpha males might appreciate alpha females, like you, but they still must claim the throne with you bowing to him." Frantically, she searched for the end, gingerly pushing the cut area under the metal bar.

"I'm not bowing to anyone!" Darla straightened her arm. Her head tilted from side to side as if contemplating the truth in Fancy's words.

"It's basic neurobiology. Everyone knows that. I'm surprised you hadn't realized the problem yet." Pulling up on the slack, Fancy slipped one part free. Containing her excitement, she worked on the other side, noting Mitch held perfectly still in an attempt to help her.

Darla glanced over her shoulder and then back to Fancy, the gun steady in her grip and aiming at Fancy's chest. "Enough talk. Sit down."

Fancy shot the woman a mutinous glare. "I don't think so."
Come on. One more notch.

"Do it now, or I'll shoot you on the spot." She leveled the weapon at Fancy's head. Sucking in a breath, she gave one final tug, feeling the material give. Lifting her chin, she met Darla's gaze with a cold stare.

Slowly, Fancy walked toward the waiting straight-back chair with wooden arms, buying time any way she could, constantly watching for potential weapons or chances at escape. Her heart galloped and palms broke out in a cold sweat.

"You shoot me, a crowd will appear immediately. They will see what happened, call security, and haul your ass straight to jail."

"Don't tell me what to do!" The gun wobbled with the influx of rage.

Seizing on the small sign of victory, Fancy pushed the woman further. "Honey, haven't you realized by now you've painted yourself in a corner? The man doesn't want you, his cock won't work…"
Geez. I said the word 'cock' out loud. How mortifying.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
"You shoot me and you'll be caught red-handed. In all reality, you've lost control over the situation and are destined to fail."