Mona's Honeymoon Fantasy (Delta of Venus Inc.) (3 page)

Mona adjusted
the ankle strap on the shoe and mumbled from beneath her fall of dark hair. “You
make me sound like a doormat.”

“Whatever. You
simply don’t see how remarkable this whole makeover has been. I just watched
you confront that girl with complete self-assurance. You were positively
commanding and I never in a million years thought you had that kind of balls.”

Mona stood
upright in the beautiful five-inch heels and gave Lana an uncomfortable look. “Well,
did you see the look she gave that woman when she asked for a larger size? I
don’t care how expensive this store is. No one deserves to be treated with
disrespect just because they don’t resemble a skeleton.”

“See, that’s
what I mean. You may have felt that way before but you would never have
confronted anyone about it. Two years ago you would have slunk away, had a hot
fudge sundae and thought evil thoughts about that stick-figure mutant. But now
you feel like you have every right to speak up if you feel like you have a
valid point. It’s just remarkable. You, are just remarkable.”

That exchange
had occurred just a few months ago and it marked the first moment when Mona
really started to feel comfortable in her new skin. Until that moment she’d
still remained that scared, hefty girl on the inside, no matter how thin and
confident she appeared on the outside.

However, all the
counselling, spinning classes and reassurances from her friends couldn’t help
her with one thing: her virginity. She’d employed professionals to help her
with her other issues. It had seemed natural to seek professionals to assist
her with this last hurdle too. But since leaving the Delta of Venus Inc., offices
she was discovering that hiring someone to show her how to do the perfect
sit-up was not the same as paying someone to initiate her into sex. She had
miscalculated her ability to remain practical about this one last aspect of her
transformation and now she felt like burying her face in a bowl of cream cheese
icing, sabotaging all the progress she’d made in the past two years in one
self-destructive but delicious gesture.

Staring at the
back of the leather seat in front of her Mona smoothed her hand down her flat
stomach as if to reassure herself that the fat hadn’t somehow magically
returned. No matter how many times she looked in the mirror or slipped on a
pair of  skinny jeans, it still didn’t seem real to her. Even though she’d
sweated her ass off every day and tracked every single calorie she’d consumed,
she always half-expected to see double-chins in the mirror and feel a pouch of extra
flesh beneath her bellybutton.

She was
distracted from her dark thoughts by movement to her right. Another passenger
was rustling around in the overhead compartment across the aisle. His broad
back was to her and his brawny arms were stretched over his head as he pushed
her luggage gently to the side to make room for what looked like a battered guitar
case.

She looked up
with annoyance at her suitcase, now mushed into the corner of the luggage
compartment. Who did this joker think he was? Probably some spoiled rock star
with an inflated ego and enflamed genitals who felt entitled to park his
precious guitar or his penis anywhere he felt like. Her new confident persona
didn’t allow for this type of behaviour. She felt the righteous anger start to
bubble up to the surface as she watched him rest the neck of his case directly
on her luggage. How dare he?

She blew out a
breath and tried to remain calm. After all, she was going to have to spend the
next several hours in close confines with the big jerk, so unless she wanted to
be a huge stress-ball when she arrived in paradise, she needed to handle this
situation with some tact. She would wait until he sat down and then she would
remove her bag from the compartment and transfer it elsewhere. And she would be
sure to give his guitar a well-placed shove while she was at it. Yes, that’s
exactly what she would do. A nice, civilized, passive-aggressive way of
handling conflict. She would not fly off the handle.

Then he did the
unthinkable. He grabbed her suitcase out of the compartment and tossed it onto
the seat below.

He did NOT just
do that.

The words were
out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Excuse me, but what the hell do
you think you’re doing with my things?”

At the sound of
her irritated voice, the man handling her luggage twisted around to look at her
and her annoyance died a quick and painless death.

He was, quite
simply, sexy as hell. Not handsome. His features were just too rugged and harsh
for that term. If his jaw had been a shade less square or his cheekbones less
sharp he would have been considered conventionally attractive but the harsh
angles of his face gave him a vaguely forbidding look that she found both
thrilling and intimidating. He looked like the kind of man who would be
comfortable making deals in back alleys in the seediest part of town.

“Is this yours?”
He asked, patting her luggage with one powerful-looking hand. His tanned skin
and longish sandy hair gave him the look of California surfer boy turned
juvenile delinquent but his powerful shoulders and broad chest under the white
T-shirt marked him as a man in the prime of life, maybe thirty years old. At
least eight years her junior so strictly off-limits, even if he was so
compelling she had trouble looking away from that hard face.

She recognized
his type immediately. He was the kind of man who could get exactly what he
wanted from women based on his charm alone and did not apologize for breaking
hearts or rules whenever he felt like it.

Then he gave her
a devilish smile and was instantly transformed from a thug into a creature so
unfathomably attractive that she forgot to respond to his question. When he
smiled, his cruel mouth turned up and drew attention away from his harsh
features and he became less intimidating, almost friendly-looking.

Startlingly blue
eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned down at her over his shoulder and
she felt herself gazing up at this metamorphosis in wonder. She tore her gaze
away from his face, not wanting him to catch her awed expression. She sincerely
hoped she hadn’t drooled.

Mona suddenly
became hyperaware that she was now gazing directly at his very spectacular,
very firm-looking butt.

“Hey,” he said
in a deep, raspy voice that seemed to skate along her nerve endings. “I was
just adjusting my bag. You don’t mind, do you?”

Adjusting his
bag? Her mind went blank for a moment. Why would she care if he adjusted his
junk? The thought of watching him perform such an intimate act made her feel
uncomfortably hot and she turned her face away to camouflage the tell-tale
blush she knew must be creeping up her cheeks. And then her dazzled mind
cleared and she realized he was talking about adjusting his guitar case in the
storage compartment. Not the fascinating body parts hidden within the confines
of his dark jeans.

She took a
steadying breath and met his gaze, determined to stay focused on the issue at
hand instead of his panty-melting sex appeal. “Actually, I do mind. It’s not
considered polite to manhandle other people’s possessions.” Her tone was
snottier than she’d intended but instead of getting offended he seemed charmed
by her antagonistic attitude. He half-turned towards her and his grin seemed to
widen, revealing teeth so white and strong-looking she wondered if he’d
appeared in any toothpaste commercials.

“Here, let me
get that,” she said impatiently. Standing up, she attempted to snake her arm
around his broad back to grab her bag off his seat. Instead of moving out of
her way like any normal person, he chose that moment to pivot his body until he
faced her, making it so much more awkward to reach around him. She was forced to
retreat if she didn’t want to end up with her face pressed against his
magnificent torso. But her pride wouldn`t allow her to back off entirely so
they both ended up in the middle of the aisle, nearly touching.

Standing in close
proximity to his hard body was a revelation. He was very tall. She had to look
up to see his amused expression. This close she could also see the golden hairs
of his afternoon beard scattered along his square chin. There was a small scar
just below one ear which should have added to his disreputable appearance but
that flaw only seemed to emphasize his masculine beauty. She could even smell
him. Something outdoorsy and clean emanated from his pores, making her want to
press her nose into his neck, take a big whiff, and hold it in her lungs to
savour.

Remembering that
she was annoyed with the man she retreated from his personal space. She shifted
as far to the side as the seat would allow and made another grab for her
luggage. This time her wrist brushed against his slim hip and she felt the hairs
on her arms stand up in reaction. Clearly there was some electricity here. Just
the simplest contact and she felt everything in her body come alive. She
couldn`t remember ever feeling so aware of another person before. She felt hot
and nervous and even a little giddy.

Flustered at her
body’s inappropriate reaction, she crossed her arms and gave him a disapproving
frown. He still didn’t budge. Instead he effortlessly picked up her bulky bag
from the seat behind him with one muscular arm and placed it gently in the
overhead compartment. He took an inordinate amount of time nestling it in close
to his guitar case and then closed the compartment lid with exaggerated care,
looking at her the entire time.

“There now. Your
possessions are safe and sound. No need to get huffy,” he said with a chuckle.

“Huffy?” She
narrowed her eyes at him. “I was not getting huffy.”

“You sound
huffy. And you definitely look huffy. Like a disgruntled kitten. But cuter.”

“A kitten. I
seem like a kitten to you?” She growled. She’d worked so hard to become a
confident, in-control woman and now this brute was reducing her to the least
imposing creature in the entire animal kingdom. She wasn’t even a tigress in
his eyes. She was a fluffy, little kitten. Only slightly more intimidating than
a stuffed teddy bear. How could a stranger make her so angry and turned on at
the same time? Was this what Miss Bright had been talking about when she
suggested a slightly less traditional fantasy might be the way to go? He
certainly got her engine purring but there’s no way he’d be interested in her.
He was way too much for her anyway. She was looking for something tame and
tender, not wild and brutal. At least she was pretty sure that’s what she
wanted.

“See that?” He
looked down at her crossed arms and impatiently tapping foot. A nervous gesture
she couldn’t get rid of no matter how many counselling sessions she attended. “That’s
huffy.”

She uncrossed
her arms and gave them a quick shake. “Huffy is not what I would call my
current mood.”

“Fine then. What
would you call it?”

“Annoyed?
Irritated? Incensed maybe?”

“Oh Honey. You
need to relax. I didn’t harm your precious bag. There’s no need to get excited.”

“I am not excited,”
she lied. “I merely suggested that you might want to keep your hands off other
people’s things.”

“Oh really?” He eased
in another inch towards her, until his mouth was practically brushing her ear.
“What if I like putting my hands on other people’s things? Especially if those
things belong to a hot little brunette with fire in her eyes and the most
amazing legs I’ve ever had the pleasure to witness in my entire life.”

She stared at
him for several long, uncomfortable seconds. Had he really just said that? This
wildly attractive, much younger man thought she was hot? It didn’t seem
possible. It was much more likely that he was using charm to distract her from
his rude behaviour, which was probably fairly typical for him. Well, she would
just call him on it and prove that he was a big, muscular, sexy, phony.

Mona gathered
herself together and raised her chin to its most haughty angle. “And when
exactly did you see my legs?” She raised one eyebrow in challenge. “They were
tucked to the side while you were mauling my luggage. As far as you know my
legs could be sporting some python-sized varicose veins or stubble long enough
to braid.”

“Long enough to
braid? This I have to see. You really don’t strike me as the hairy bohemian
type.” His smile widened and he attempted to dart a glance down at the limbs in
question.

Mona wagged a
finger in his amused face. “No peaking. If you can describe my shoes then I’ll
accept that your comment about my legs was sincere and not some kind of
standard line you use to get yourself out of trouble.”

“Trouble? Am I
in trouble?” He gave her a wide-eyed innocent look but she just glared back at
him. “You really don’t take a compliment very well, do you?” He grumbled and
then closed his eyes. “Fine. One shoe description coming up.” He put the
fingers of one hand to his temple like he was picking up psychic waves from the
universe. “Your shoes are black and shiny with skinny little straps around the
ankles. The heels are high enough to be sexy but not ridiculous, like you’re
trying too hard.” He opened his eyes and all the humour was gone from his
expression. The heat in his blue eyes was now hot enough to singe her skin.
“They’re beautiful and classy, and probably expensive as hell but they don’t do
justice to your legs.”

“My legs?” She
gulped, completely mesmerized by the hungry look in his eyes.

“Yeah. Want me
to describe them now?” He rumbled.

She nodded,
completely unable to speak.

“Well, you’re
not very tall but your legs are long and shapely. Not too thin but well-muscled
and graceful. And they aren’t hairy at all. In fact, I bet if I ran my fingers
down your calf they’d be just as smooth as warm satin.” He paused for a moment
as if lost in that particular fantasy. “There’s a tiny beauty mark on the
outside of your right ankle. Just above the strap of those sinful shoes.”