The Cover Model (7 page)

The thought startled him. He hadn't been thinking past the convention. Yet his mind rebelled at the idea of spending a few days with this little gem then walking away forever. Surely, fate hadn't put them together like this for just a tiny moment in time. What were the odds they'd live in the same city? Work down the street from one another? He saw more than coincidence but didn't want to harp on the details. No. Way too early to be thinking about more than getting to know a woman different than any other he'd met. See what happened, then go from there.
I'm not ready to give up my playboy life, right? Not for another decade at least.

"Mitch?"

Her voice broke through his thoughts. "Hmm?"

She pushed the book toward him. "Your turn again."

"Oh." He plucked the paperback from her fingers, careful not to lose the spot. "Now, where were we? Oh, yeah. Our wayward duke couldn't keep his hands off the young, beautiful chit." He chuckled, actually halfway enjoying the Victorian romance, despite the flowery words and abbreviated sexual encounters. The author gave her readers a glimpse into the bedroom, just not a detailed one. Too bad. Mitch would get a kick out of a hot and hardcore session. His cock jumped at the thought of reading erotica to Fancy. Tight discomfort settled in his groin. On second thought, save the erotica for later. When they were both naked and could replay the sultry scenes until exhaustion sent them to sleep.

Speaking of, he noted the drooping eyelids and lines of fatigue on Fancy's face. She probably did go to bed early each night, and his presence kept her up way past her bedtime. "Are you getting tired?"

She nodded. "But I'm having fun and don't want to stop."

He smiled warmly. "Then why don't you lie down? I'll keep reading."

Without a single complaint, she curled up in a ball, resting her head on the pillow beside his hip.

Mitch read a bit more, noticed when Fancy drifted off to sleep, and carefully slid off the bed. Marking the book, he replaced the novel on the table, pulled the cover over Fancy, and took a moment to stare at the sleeping woman.

His heart tugged at the innocence and beauty she portrayed. With a sigh, he kissed the top of her head. "Good night, Sleeping Beauty." Walking quietly to the door, he turned the doorknob lock, then stepped out. Checking to make sure the door locked behind him, he pulled his key from his pants, and let himself into his own room. The identical room felt cold and lifeless compared to hers. Puffing out a breath, he headed toward the shower.

Chapter 10

She'd woken up refreshed and delightfully happy. The smell of Mitch's cologne still lingering on the bedspread next to her reminded her of an eventful night to come. Her chance to finally step out as Cinderella, minus the huge ball gown and glass slippers. She could only hope the night ended better than in the story and she would also see a happily ever after before everything was said and done.

Valiantly, she'd tried to pay attention to a couple of presentations that morning, only to find herself too distracted and excited to garner much from the speakers. At the first break, she had bolted, heading directly for the costume place.

Twirling around, Fancy checked herself out in the full-length mirror for the third time in the past ten minutes, a bit uncertain about her outfit for the evening's events; Old West night. She envisioned most of the men would dress as cowboys, either good or bad as indicated by the color of cowboy hat. Perhaps a couple might dare to come as a Native American. The women surely would lean toward a dutiful wife, saloon dancer, or school teacher with a handful of Annie Oakleys and Calamity Janes tossed in for good measure. She'd had those images in mind when visiting the nearby costume shop that Mitch pointed out the day before as they had shared lunch. The school teacher's dress called to her, although she had to pass on the period style short ladies' boots. Her tennis shoes would just have to do. No way could she dance in boots or spend hours in her black flats without arch support.

The impromptu get-together still bumfuzzled her. While she could understand running into one another at a restaurant, she didn't understand why he chose to sit with her and begin chatting away. The reason didn't really matter, considering she thoroughly enjoyed herself and him. Once she could see past the cover model face and body, she found a decent man with a witty mind, charming smile, and quirky sense of humor. She wouldn't have guessed he was a lawyer, but looking back, she could see it now. Intelligence and an easygoing manner pointed to a logical and steady career, one that offered rewards to those willing to do the hard work.

Then last night. She sighed in remembrance. He'd shown up at her door and they had spent the evening in her bed, reading a romance novel to one another. She'd never thought much of reading out loud, except perhaps teachers to small children or a loving parent to their infant. Yet the night sparkled for her. Even more touching was Mitch had taken the time to cover her after she'd fallen asleep and lock her door as he'd left. She vaguely recalled him mumbling to her and kissing her crown, but she could have already been asleep and dreaming. No matter. She'd had a blast and knew the upcoming night, attending a ball with Mitch, would only be better.

Why did he pick me?
The question hounded her. The sexiest man at the convention had asked her to the party. It didn't make sense, but she vowed not to fight it. Spending the evening on the arm of Mitch Jameson might be a highlight to her fairly mundane life. Even if the dream date lasted for only a few hours before he moved on to another lady the next night, she could scribble the events down in her diary to re-read sometime down the road.

Don't knock him until you try him.
The adventuresome voice in her head clanged loudly. A motto to live by for today.

Worrying with her hair, she tugged the ponytail holder out and grabbed a brush. After a few strokes, she twisted and wound her long hair into a solid bun, held in place with a few pins and clips. Satisfied the blonde locks would remain in place, she brushed off imaginary lint and checked the mirror one last time, halfway cringing at her white tennis shoes only partially covered by her dress. She didn't have any other shoes than black flats used for her presentation and her workout sneakers. However, the western dress truly needed something else in footwear. Releasing a sigh, she chose to ignore the issue, telling herself that no one would notice the fashion faux pas.

She glimpsed the clock on the wall. Six fifty. Mitch should be knocking on her door any moment. A thrill of excitement sped through her.

Three raps on her door caught her attention. Hurrying over, she checked through the peephole and immediately opened the door to find Mitch dressed in black jeans, a black western shirt, a prominent belt buckle, and fancy leather cowboy boots. His black hair complemented the outfit, while the form-fitting clothing hinted at a toned physique, one the ladies drooled over.

"Wow."

The corners of his mouth kicked up as his gaze raked her from head to toe. "School teacher, huh?"

"Yep. It seemed the most appropriate. What do you think?" She spun around for him.

"It fits you and will make the men wonder what treasures are hidden beneath that dress."

"Really?"

He nodded and offered his arm. "Didn't you know that men like a bit of mystery?"

She pocketed her room key before linking their arms, settling her hand on his silk shirt-covered forearm. "Honestly, I hadn't considered it before, just assumed they liked to catch a look of whatever female parts were on display."

"Ah. While some men might, others prefer the less obvious, more demure ladies."

"So which do you prefer?" She glanced up at him as he punched the button for the elevator.

"That would be telling." He grinned wickedly before leading her into the elevator, giving a courteous nod to the other two women already inside.

Fancy leaned against the right side as all eyes watched the number at the top front, waiting to hit the ground. Only a moment later, a large jolt and whine ended their descent with the doors still firmly shut.

"Oh, no. Don't tell me it's not working," the older lady in the back whispered in worry.

Fancy frowned but remained quiet. Not claustrophobic, she waited impatiently for the large metal box to begin moving once again.

"Oh, my," a young redhead whispered in awe, her gaze locked on Mitch.

Mitch poked buttons, but nothing happened. With a sigh, he pulled out his cell phone. "I'm going to report the problem. Maybe they have someone here that can get us moving again."

We can only hope.
Fancy shook her head. Not the beginning of the perfect night that she envisioned. If this was a sign of what was to come, she might as well tromp back upstairs, crawl under the covers, and hope tomorrow proved a brand new day.

Her gaze landed on Mitch's sculpted posterior, and she promptly forgot about their present predicament. She could drag him back to her room, strip him down, and squeeze his lovely rear like a roll of toilet paper. Her fingers could trace every hill and valley of his body, taste him, explore him, and discover the truth behind the codpiece he'd worn not too long ago. The thought sent her belly into a slow somersault and whetted her appetite for more. The thoughts, so unlike her, latched in her mind, refusing to budge as they became more and more elaborate and detailed, astonishing her while revving up her dormant libido at the same time. She fanned herself against the sudden heat flushing through her system.

Who needed a penis pacifier when Mitch was around?

Chapter 11

Mitch disconnected the call to the hotel front desk. "We might as well sit down and make ourselves comfortable. They have to call in the elevator repairman, and that might be a bit before he arrives."

"Wonderful. We're going to miss the costume party." The middle-aged woman checked her watch and sighed heavily, her large bosom lifting and lowering with the effort behind her red plaid western shirt tucked into brown denim jeans. "It's already seven. Time for the party to start." Looking up, she met the gaze of the others. "I guess we might as well get to know one another. I'm Jane Chambers."

"The romance author?" His eyebrow shot up.

"Why, yes. You know of me?" Her lips curled up into a smile.

"I've done some cover shoots for your books."

"My best sellers, I bet." She tittered.

Directly across from him, he noticed the redhead blink in recognition, a wide smile appearing on her face. Starstruck and hungry came to mind. "I'm Darla and your biggest fan."

The red hair, the shape of her face, and overbite. Emerald green eyes widened in excitement. He compared her with the picture he had back in his room. Donna. Darla. Bingo. They matched too closely for coincidence. Talk about luck. Being stuck in an elevator with his target woman, who luckily had hardly changed her looks at all.

"I'm Fancy." Her voice carried like a warm spring breeze, although a bit breathless.

He glanced at her, caught her staring at his backside, and bit back a grin. It seemed beneath that prim and proper exterior resided a passionate woman ready to step out into the world. Later, he would coax her into further letting her hair down. After they escaped this elevator glitch. First, he had to figure out more about Donna/Darla in order to point the Feds her direction.

"And I'm Mitch, as this pretty little one seems to already know."

Darla nodded enthusiastically. "I've got all the books featuring you on the cover. I even have an oversized poster of you at home on my bedroom wall."

Kind of creepy being a pinup man to an embezzlement suspect who supposedly ripped off investors for millions, emptying their retirement funds in the process, and handing the money over to terrorists.

"Fine way to begin our date." Fancy sulked with a frown on her face, no longer interested in his rear as her eyes scanned the room.

Damn it. What are the odds?
He cussed at fickle fate and racked his brain for ideas. All those years of schooling and a law degree had to be good for something. One suggestion came to mind, attached, and refused to budge. If he could get Darla back to her hotel room with the thought of sex on her mind, then somehow escape before actually performing the deed, he'd net the information the Feds needed, could report to his contact, and be done with this mess just in time to enjoy the rest of the convention.
Here goes nothing.

"Oh, I don't know. The night is still young." He locked his gaze with Darla, throwing all his experience and skills at seduction into play. If he could make her believe he wanted to hop into her bed, perhaps she would take him to her hotel room. Once there, he could find a way to excuse himself, report back to his contact, and be done with this spy business. Giving her a small smile, he purposely dropped his gaze to her abundant cleavage threatening to spill out of the low cut saloon gown.

"Very nice… dress."

She grinned at the compliment. "Thanks."

Hearing an outraged gasp, he glanced to his side. Sure enough, Fancy sat on the floor in her demure neck-to-ankle proper school teacher's dress with a scowl of exasperated irritation on her face.

"Umm. Excuse me, god's gift to women. Remember me? Your date for the evening?"

Inwardly, he cringed, realizing how his seduction act would appear to Fancy. Yet no other solutions came to mind, and he would be dense as a doorknob to let this fateful opportunity pass. Not when Darla sat staring at him like he was the cherry on top of a tasty sundae, one she couldn't wait to eat. As much as he hated the notion of hurting Fancy's feelings and killing her budding interest, his morals couldn't let this golden chance pass. People's lives and hard earned money stood on the line, not to mention erasing a ton of inflowing currency to a known terrorist group. Mitch's gut ached at the pain on Fancy's face. He wouldn't hurt her for the world, but for the life of him, he couldn't think of another way to corral Darla. After all, she could leave this elevator, reinvent herself, and even disappear for good. No. This was his one perfect shot and he couldn't blow it. Lives might depend upon this very moment.