Banshee Seduction (Montgomery's Sin Book 1) (2 page)

She preferred working in the library. She loved the smell of books, especially the old ones. The hushed voices. The respectful attitudes. Most of all, she loved the people. All sorts of characters from every background came in. Some for a purpose, some for a warm-up in the cold of winter, others to give the kids something to do in the school break, but Ginny’s favorites were the ones who came in to fantasize. She could see the dreams in their eyes, feel the hope in their hearts as they looked for their next adventure. The joy of reading spanned every creed, color, age, sex, orientation, and religion. It knew no bounds, for it had never been shackled.

With a sigh, she turned away from the mirror and wriggled her way into the tiny white stretch-fabric dress Roni had sent around for her, almost stripping the skin from her body as she hauled the material up her curvy frame. She squeezed it past her hips and persuaded it over her breasts inch by inch until she realized she’d forgotten to breathe and puffed out a noisy gasp. She waited for a moment, hitching in small drafts of air, and hoped the dress wouldn’t split its seams while she tried to bend at the waist to pick up the pair of shoes she had placed on the floor. She collapsed onto her bed, flat out, and wished she’d not eaten at all, never mind consuming a full plate of spaghetti and meatballs. She rubbed her belly. Sweet howling banshees, she’d probably damaged a kidney…and her liver. The grunt in the base of her throat turned to a wail, accompanied by supportive voices. She’d twisted her gut, she had to have. All the squeezing of her innards wasn’t going to let her digest her dinner, and her lungs were flat. She was going to die.

The piercing wail was cut off abruptly by the sheer terror of the unexpected voice.

“Aren’t you ready yet?”

The swift rush of adrenaline shot Ginny upright in a smooth move she surprised even herself with, until she stood by the side of her bed. Her body hadn’t been given the option to bend. It would have been strangled by the Band-Aid she’d squeezed it into. High-pitched, her voice trembled past the restriction. “How did you get in?”

Roni grinned and circled her hand in the air. “I…you know.”

Yeah, she did know. Unfortunately, Roni had a bad habit of zapping in and out of her private moments. Private. Pah, it wasn’t as though she had any of those, so she could hardly object. Besides, she needed Roni to rescue her.

“I can’t bend over in this dress.” The wail became louder, and Roni’s smooth left brow shot up.

“Well, you’re not supposed to.”

Ginny skimmed her gaze over the black leather dress Roni had been painted into and wondered how she had the ability to breathe.

“I think I’ve damaged my insides.” The other women bitched inside her head, making it to the outside so Roni could hear.

The model’s sympathetic smile reassured her. “No, you haven’t.”

“But, I can’t…” Ginny flicked her fingers at the shoebox on her bed.

Roni picked it up, and against all odds, she kneeled effortlessly on the floor at Ginny’s feet, the dress she wore appearing not to hamper her flexibility.

“I love these shoes.” Roni slipped one of the crystal-encrusted four-inch heels onto Ginny’s foot and stroked it in awe as she withdrew her hand to pick up the next one.

“Yeah.” Ginny sighed, and the women’s voices dissipated in direct correlation to her distraction.

“You have such good taste in shoes.”

“I do.” She couldn’t help but grin as she agreed. It was a weakness. She might dress conservatively on the whole, but she always had on a pair of heels most women would kill for, each pair lovingly treated and perfectly stored. She considered she might have to get another closet built in her apartment to accommodate the overflow.

Roni came to her feet and scanned Ginny from head to toe. “Shame you have such crap dress sense.” She gave her a smile and flicked her long, red talons at the current piece of material adhering to Ginny’s flesh. “I like this one. I’m pleased I sent it.”

“I…”

Roni spun her around so she could stare at herself in the mirror.

“Oh, my.” The air stuck in her throat as she perused the vision before her. Perfect. Voices hummed with admiration.

“Of course, you can’t wear those panties.”

“I can’t?” She twisted as best she could in the body-hugging material to get a better view of her backside.

“No, I can see the panty line. You need thongs.”

“I don’t have—”

Phut.

The woman was gone. Ginny hated the whole disappearing act. You could never have a full conversation, never win an argument. Not that she wanted to argue with Roni, she’d just like the opportunity to—

Pff.

“Here. A white thong.” Roni removed the sales tag and handed the thong to her.

“Where did you get them?”

Her friend’s smile was wide and feral; her sharp white teeth gleamed. “It’s okay, Miss Honesty, I left payment for them. I just didn’t have time to wait in line.”

“I’m sure.” Ginny glanced at the label. “Especially as the bridal shop would be closed at this time of night.”

Her friend wafted a dismissive hand as though a visit to a closed underwear store was something she did on a regular basis. She probably did. Most shops would be closed by nightfall when Roni was available to shop. It was a little inconvenient for her to visit in the daytime when the pesky sunlight fried her alabaster skin.

Ginny stared at Roni, wondering if the woman was going to leave the room so she could have some privacy to whip off her panties and exchange them for the new ones, because the dress was not the type to allow for discretion. She was going to have to peel it up before she could do the whole panty exchange.

“Do you need help?”

She smiled at Roni’s lack of patience. “Nuh-uh. I can manage if you would be so kind as to turn your back. I don’t need you seeing my hoo-hah.”

“Hoo-hah? For the love of Satan, it’s your p—”

“I know what it is,” Ginny interrupted hastily.

Roni’s wild red hair flicked as she turned her back with an ungracious grumble.

Ginny writhed to get the clingy dress far enough up to strip off her big-ass panties and haul on the thong as fast as she could before Roni lost patience and took over. Being a model meant Roni had little time for self-consciousness, and even less tolerance.

Voice muffled as she writhed to get the tiny scrap of material over her hips, she glanced up to check Roni was still in the same place. “Where did you say we were going?”

“I didn’t, but we’re going to the new club—Montgomery’s Sin.”

“Oh my, I’ve heard things about that place.” The girls at work had been the previous Friday night, failing to turn up for work on Saturday—again. The club was reputed to be wild. “It’s supposed to be full of all kinds. They say it’s where the devil goes to collect the souls of the fallen, the defeated, and the damned.” She tried not to sound like some kind of innocent, but she knew terror and awe laced her voice. Nightclubs terrified her. The thunder of music, the dark, prowling people.

“Yeah, well, there’re two things here. First, I think the devil is too important to collect his own souls—he sends out his minions to do that. Second, I don’t think you fall into any of those categories. You can consider yourself quite safe. Now, me…there’s a whole ’nother matter.”

“Perhaps it’s an exaggeration, but I do believe it’s a den of iniquity.” Ginny stretched her dress back into place and smoothed her hands over the fine material to check for any bulges.

Roni turned around and eyed her with a wicked grin. “Yeah. It’s precisely why we’re going.”

•●•

“I’m not going!”

“Jesus, come on, Matt. You know you have to.”

“No. I don’t.”

“You do. Your reputation is at stake if you don’t get back on the bike of life and start to ride again.”

“I never got off it.” Matt punched the remote control to flick between the two sports channels. What to watch?

“You haven’t been out partying since Emma left you.”

He had to close his eyes so his friend couldn’t see them roll to the back of his eye sockets. Daniel wouldn’t be amused, especially if Matt accompanied it with a short burst of fire from his nostrils. Daniel didn’t seem too keen when he did it; the man was inflexible about that kind of thing. At least when they were in public. Still… Matt sighed. They’d been through this before, and Daniel seemed unmoved by his excuses.

“I wanted Emma to leave. I was glad when she went.” He pushed the sound out between gritted teeth.

“Well, we know that, but no one else does. It’s been four months, and people think you’re pining.”

Matt jerked upright and stared at his sports agent. If there was one thing he wasn’t, it was pining. He simply wanted to be alone. “I’m not fucking pining. The woman was a witch.”

“Matt, I don’t think you can say—”

“Yes. Yes, I can. She was a witch. Long sharp nails, black cat, evil spells.”

“You exaggerate.”

He pointed the remote and waggled it at Daniel. “You should have been there when she threatened to carve out my heart with the curved black dagger.”

Daniel closed his eyes and sighed long and loud. His agent really didn’t seem to believe him, but it was true. The woman had been wild. Matt’d had a lucky escape—after all, she could have called in her coven. The luck he’d been having lately, she might possibly have. Right now they could be sticking pins into a little doll. He ran a mental check over his body. No. No more pain than the usual sharp pangs and dull aches.

Daniel coughed and drew his attention back to where he stood in the middle of Matt’s huge, white-carpeted living room.

“As your agent, I am telling you, you need to get out there again. Show people you’ve matured, grown—and no, I don’t mean physically. If you grow any more, people will start to notice, Matt.”

“I can’t help my height.” He was pretty sure he hadn’t grown any more, and as for mature, how old did he have to be to qualify?

“No. But you can help your situation.”

Trapped. The desire to sulk had him playing with the remote a moment longer before he heaved a sigh and met Daniel’s determined stare.

“All right. For an hour.”

“Two.”

“No.” That was the trouble with agents—never satisfied, always ready to negotiate, and from the look on Daniel’s face, he wasn’t going to be moved from his opening gambit with ease.

“Okay. An hour,” Matt repeated, but at Daniel’s sour look, he reluctantly conceded, “…and a half.” He waggled the remote at his best friend and agent and gave in to the desire to be rebellious. “But I’m not getting changed.”

His lips twitched as mild horror spread across Daniel’s face. The man’s topaz eyes scanned Matt’s washed-out lime-green T-shirt, which read, I’M NOT RICH, I’M NOT FAMOUS, BUT THE ASS BESIDE ME IS. TALK TO HIM.

“You could just slip on a white shirt…”

“No.” Matt stood up, empowered by his mutiny. “Take me as I am, or I don’t go at all.”

With a dramatic sigh, Daniel turned toward the door at the far end of the room. “Okay. Deal. Let’s go. You’re such a diva.”

Matt almost regretted it. It had been too easy, and he really didn’t want to go out. There was a Cowboys’ game on he would far rather have stayed at home to watch. He needed to study their new quarterback’s moves.

He flipped the remote a full circle in the air, pointed it at the TV, and paused as he heard his name.

“Matt Dane, the New York Chameleons fullback and Peter Pan of football, shows all players what clean living can do. The guy never has a single wrinkle, bloodshot eyes, or an injury due to poor fitness levels. For a man of his age, he’s always in tip-top condition, probably because he never goes out. Just look at the game he played on Friday night. Over to you, McCoy.”

“Yes, indeed, The Dane was up against Travis Ludwig, and I can tell you he was more than a match. There were some really nice chunk plays, and the call of toss on third down, with The Dane out front, ripped off a nice gain. He was even covered on the next level and easily hammered it in there. I can only say, I’m delighted the man doesn’t have a life.”

Click.

Silence.

“Let’s go.”

“Can we please go now?” Ginny gazed around the new nightclub. Violet neon lights lined the walls and pushed back the dark to cast haunting shadows over the place.