All around them, their images were reflected in the powder room’s lavish mirrored surfaces. Dizzied by their multiple likenesses, Damon nodded. He hooked his thumbs on Natasha’s filmy thong panties, then tugged them down. With leggy agility, she kicked them off. He pocketed them in his dinner jacket.
Avidly, Natasha pulled him nearer. But with her nakedly revealed to him that way, there was only one thing Damon wanted to do. With a grin, he dropped to his knees. With both hands on her spread thighs, he lowered his head, then lavished her with kisses. In no time at all, Natasha shuddered into a climax.
Surely her cries were audible in the hallway outside; probably so was the sound of raw, hard thrusting against the vanity as Damon took his own pleasure next. Natasha’s heels thumped against the vanity’s lower doors; her hands grappled with its slick surface, trying to find stability in a world quaking with passion. Harder, faster, Damon thrust inside her. They both came closer and closer to the edge. He’d never felt anything hotter. He’d never known anyone more remarkable.
Groaning with a nearly instant release, Damon gave another mindless hip swivel, then buried his face in Natasha’s sweet-smelling neck. Her body sagged in satisfaction against his. Her knees clutched his hips for balance. Her hands cupped his ass again. Heart pounding, Damon kissed her. He gazed into her eyes.
It had been only minutes since they’d sneaked into the powder room together, but it felt like forever. It felt amazing.
“That was ...
incredible
,” he breathed, still panting.
“
Really
incredible,” Natasha agreed, laughing with joy.
Her face was flushed. Her hair was tangled around her shoulders. With her dress still hiked up high and her body still pulsing intimately around him, Natasha was the epitome of the sex goddess he’d always known she could be. Feeling ridiculously glad about that—glad about
her
—Damon kissed her again.
“I hope that met your expectations of a sexy, illicit liaison at a party you just crashed,” Damon said with a smile. “I’m not sure the vanity can hold up to another try.”
“Oh
yeah
.” Natasha nodded. “You bet it did.”
“I still can’t believe you did this.” Damon shook his head, marveling at her. “It was so adventurous. So risky. So—”
“So sexy?” Natasha raised her eyebrows. “That’s true. The tricky part will be sneaking out of here, though. Any ideas?”
“I vote to brazen it out as if we own the place,” Damon suggested. “That usually works for me.”
Natasha agreed. A few seconds later, they’d had a quick cleanup, straightened their clothing, zipped up everything that needed zipping, and tidied their disheveled hair. They inhaled and linked hands, preparing to reenter the party long enough to sneak outside again. At the last instant, Natasha turned back.
“Hang on. I’ve got to do one more thing.” She searched her evening bag, pulled out a miniature bottle of lavender-scented spray-on hand sanitizer, then squirted it all over the vanity. She wiped down the surface with a towel, tossed the towel in the nearby hamper, then faced Damon with a self-conscious grin. “There. I wouldn’t have felt right just leaving it like that.”
“No, you wouldn’t. And
that
is how I know you’re still you,” Damon said with an answering smile as he opened the door for a peek outside. “Still the woman I’ve come to admire and—”
And love
, he’d been about to say, but at the unexpected sight that greeted him in the hallway beyond, Damon fell silent.
“Yes?” Natasha prompted teasingly from behind him. “Don’t hold back now, Damon. The woman you’ve come to admire and ... ?”
“
Love
, I think he was about to say.” In the hall, Wes Brinkman folded his arms over his chest. He studied Damon and Natasha with knowing eyes—and no small measure of aggravation, too. “Isn’t that right, Damon? That’s what would fit your playbook right about now. After all I’ve done for you lately, it’s really starting to piss me off.”
Surprised to find the B-Man Media mogul standing outside in the hallway, Natasha gaped at him. Hanging back behind Damon, she double-checked to make sure her clothes were in order. Yep. Everything was fine. She could safely face the world outside.
Outside, where the party seemed to be continuing downstairs in all its raucous glory. Then she realized what Wes had said.
“
Playbook
?” Natasha asked Damon. “What playbook?”
Damon looked uncomfortable. He raked his hand through his hair, even though he’d already straightened it. He frowned at Wes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Wes.”
“Oh, I think I do,” Wes said. “I should have seen this improv coming, too. Only I was distracted by a sudden attack of ... well, I guess you’d say it was
guilt
I felt.” Wes chuckled. “Guilt over having booted you out of my place on Destiny’s command. I know, I know.” Jokingly, Wes held up his hands. “It’s unbelievable, but it’s true.
I
felt guilty. You’re my friend, Damon! And Destiny and I are history. I realized after she left what an unbelievable ass hat I’d been, leaving you to fend for yourself in your hour of need, so—”
“I can’t talk now, Wes.” Damon took Natasha’s arm, trying to usher her into the hallway past Wes. “Come on. Let’s go.”
But Natasha dug in her heels. Something about Damon’s guilty expression made her stay put. She wanted to know more.
“What playbook?” Natasha asked Wes.
“Well ...
playbook
is probably overstating things,” Wes admitted with another jovial chuckle. “We both know Damon isn’t the greatest at executing a plan, right, Natasha?” He glanced at a tense-looking Damon. “No hard feelings, buddy, but it’s common knowledge that you suck at follow-through. You’re one hundred percent impulse and zero percent long-term strategy. That’s why
I
stepped in to make sure your little scheme to take back what’s yours from Little Miss Puppies and Rainbows here achieved liftoff.”
Wes nodded toward her. Disbelievingly, Natasha arched her brows. “You mean
me
?
I’m
‘Little Miss Puppies and Rainbows’?”
“Hey.” Wes shrugged. “They were Damon’s words, not mine.”
Openmouthed, Natasha looked at Damon. She wanted to know exactly what he was supposed to have been scheming to “take back” from her. But first ... “You called me that?”
Damon glowered at Wes. “Only the ‘puppies’ part.”
“
What
?”
“I may have likened you to a basketful of puppies,” Damon told her in a low voice, “but only in the best possible way!”
Natasha couldn’t think of a single “best possible way” those words could be used to refer to her. Especially by Damon.
Before she could find out more, Wes jumped in again.
“Damon doesn’t know the half of it, though, does he, princess? He probably thinks you
spontaneously
crashed this party—this party that just
happens
to be full of movers and shakers and industry types you could—and did—schmooze with on Damon’s behalf.” Wes shook his head at Damon. “This poor sap might even think you dragged him in there for a quickie just for the fun of it, when we both know the real reason was to avoid—”
“Hey! I
did
crash this party,” Natasha objected before Wes could, damningly, go any further. “And as far as our encounter goes—”
No
. She wasn’t going to discuss her quickie with Damon with
Wes
, of all people. “As far as my reasons for being here are concerned, at least
I
have what’s best for Damon in mind.”
“What’s
best
for me?” In a tone of disbelief, Damon broke in. He grabbed her arm. “Natasha, what are you talking about?”
She couldn’t tell him. Not like this. Instead, Natasha faced Wes. “When who knows what
you
want to accomplish,” she said for diversion’s sake, “with whatever you’ve been up to.”
“With whatever I’ve been up to?” Wes mimed in an overly prissy voice, raising his brows. He laughed. “That’s easy! It’s no secret. I’ve been photographing you both. And videotaping you, of course.” Appearing simultaneously proud and gleeful, Wes beamed at them. “I’ve been documenting the rehabilitation of America’s favorite playboy, the king of chocolate himself, Damon Torrance!” Wes swept his arm toward Damon in a grand gesture. “The traditional media is going to go ape shit when I release the footage. People are going to eat it up! I might even be able to get a whole reality show out of it.
That’s
the payoff I’m always looking for, right there,” Wes informed Damon. “Even when I’m trying to be altruistic, I make money! And let me tell you, the whole world is going to want to watch Damon woo his true love, the wholesome single mom from suburbia. It’s
so
romantic!”
“You
taped
us?” Menacingly, Damon advanced toward Wes. “You followed us and filmed us and made a
reality show
out of us?”
“I
did
,” Wes said, suddenly disgruntled. “I
was
. Until you blundered in here and threatened to screw up the whole thing by crashing a party and getting busy in the bathroom and behaving like ... well,
not
like America’s sweetheart. More like your old self. Which is why I called you and told you to get lost.”
Damon fisted his hands. “You
filmed
us?” he repeated.
“Come on.” Unconcerned, Wes waved off Damon’s aggressive stance. He sighed. “Don’t pretend you didn’t see my crew. I know you spotted them a time or two. I saw it on the footage. I saw you spot a cameraman less than an hour ago—and ignore him.”
Damon fell silent. This time, Natasha guessed, he couldn’t even employ his favorite tactic and just brazen out the situation. Because Wes had deliberately called him on it.
It was true, then
, Natasha realized with a sinking heart. Damon and Wes must had been conspiring to rehab Damon’s damaged public image. And
she’d
inadvertently gone along for the ride.
“But don’t worry,” Wes assured them both. “We can edit out the sexy stuff.” He leered toward the powder room. “As long as you skedaddle right now. After all, there’s no point churning through unusable footage. Time is money.” Wes rubbed his fingers together, cash-only style. “I have to give my crew full credit, too. They covered your rehabilitation with almost as much zeal as they did your breakdown in Las Vegas. God knows, it couldn’t have been as dramatic.” He shot a cheerful glance at Natasha. “That’s a cute kid you’ve got, by the way. Milo, right?”
Natasha gasped. She could scarcely wrap her imagination around what Wes was saying. But it sounded, if she wasn’t mistaken, as though Damon had set out to remodel his workshop-damaged reputation by the most expedient means possible ... .
By pretending to date Little Miss Puppies and Rainbows.
By pretending to
love
... her. And having Wes document it all.
“Leave the kid out of this.” Damon’s face looked stony. “In fact, leave
all
of us out of this, Wes. I don’t want—”
“Leave you out of it?” Wes laughed with obvious incredulity. “I can’t do that. Not now. Come on, buddy. All’s well that ends well, right? You got the girl. So what if your tender courtship winds up on TV? People are going to love the farmers market scenes. When you chose Natasha over all those panting, hot-to-trot Stepford Wives, I thought I might cry.”
“Fuck off, Wes. You’re sick.” Damon shook his head, doing an excellent impression of being disillusioned ... now that he’d been caught in the act. “I thought I could trust you. Hell, at one time, I even thought I was just like you! But—”
“You
are
just like him,” Natasha said quietly.
Damon gawked at her. “I used to be. A little. But now—”
“You’re
exactly
like him,” Natasha forged onward, feeling almost overcome with grief and disappointment ... feeling herself growing weirdly detached from this horrible revelation
and
the party continuing downstairs. “The only difference between you and Wes,” she said, “is that you’re less honest about it.”
“Honest?” Damon’s jaw tightened. “
You’re
going to tell me about being honest? The woman who lied about being married?”
“Woohoo!” Wes said with relish. “
That
sounds intriguing! Tell me more. Maybe we’ll make it into a bonus webisode.”
Ignoring Wes, Natasha jerked up her chin. She stared at Damon instead, finding him suddenly ... unfamiliar to her. She couldn’t believe she’d been so blind. She couldn’t believe she’d bought in. All Damon’s flattery, all his kindness, all his consideration had been false. She should have known him better.
She should have. But she hadn’t.
And Damon’s supposedly instantaneous, white-hot, super-sexy inability to resist her? That must have been a lie, too.
In retrospect, it all made sense.
“It looks that way, Pinocchio,” she said. “It looks like I
am
going to tell you about being honest.” With deliberate dispassion, Natasha crossed her arms. “But hey ... I know what it’s like. Pretty soon, you get in too deep to come clean, right?”
At least
she’d
told the truth before sleeping with him. Before falling for him. Before making promises to him.
Damon shook his head. In a cold voice, he said, “
I
don’t have anything to ‘come clean’ about. And if you think I do—”
“I think you do. But I’ve heard just about enough for now.” Squaring her shoulders, Natasha gazed directly at Wes. “You didn’t have permission to film us, Wes. If you release that footage, I’ll sue your ass off. Consider yourself forewarned.”
“Ooh!” Wes made playful paws with his hands. He growled, then waved them in the air. “The puppy just grew claws.” He guffawed, then elbowed Damon. “No wonder you’re hot for her. Under all that composure and practicality, she’s a feisty one.”
Wasn’t anyone taking this seriously? Heartsick, Natasha addressed Damon next. “I have to hand it to you. You really had me going. After all these years ...” She shook her head. “I guess you never truly know somebody until you let them screw you.”