Tugging the glass door open, he stepped into the room, releasing a sigh of relief when his gaze landed on Fancy busily running on the farthest treadmill, her feet flying over the black belt in a statement of grace and athleticism. Clean, lithe lines of her conditioned body flowed fluently with easy movement, a testimony to natural ability and balance. The long blonde ponytail swayed with each movement, like the mane and tail on a palomino horse racing across the open land, running free. Her face, though, told another story. Simmering rage. Pain. Disappointment.
Steeling himself, he walked over, watching her closely. He prided himself on accurate body language interpretation and hoped the skill would prove handy as he tried to wiggle off the hook as the worm she more than likely considered him now for promising to take her to the dance, then coming on strong with another woman in the elevator to the point of leaving with her. Granted, he had a legitimate excuse, but she didn't know that, and he wasn't sure she would believe him even if he explained.
He stopped beside the machine, standing quiet for a long moment. Her gaze flicked to him before returning straight ahead once more.
"Fancy. Let me explain."
She blatantly ignored him, her feet pounding out a fast rhythm, the only sound in the room along with her heavy breathing.
"I'm sorry. There are reasons behind what happened. Reasons I can't explain right now…" He shoved one hand through his hair in a combing motion. "Just listen to me first. Then you can chew on my ass all you want."
For a long moment, he waited. Right when he decided she intended to pretend he no longer existed on this earth, she reached out, slowed the treadmill, until coming to a complete stop. Grabbing the towel, she wiped her face, finally looking at him for more than a fleeting second.
"Fine. I'll listen. But you should know I'm not in a mood to believe anything you say. As it looks to me, you're a sex maniac who can't get enough women in his life."
He flinched but didn't bother to correct her thinking. After all, he lived the life of a playboy, especially at the convention. Hard not to when dozens of women cooed, flirted, and maneuvered themselves into his line of vision, offering up a night of passion with no strings attached. A man's dream come true.
The challenge tossed out, he focused on the rest of her words and seized the opportunity to convince her of the truth without spilling the beans about his ulterior motives. Seeing her like a difficult jury, he quickly formulated a plan.
"Okay. The woman in the elevator, she's special."
Fancy snorted. "I bet. Even half drunk, she lured you away with liquor smelling pheromones."
"No. It wasn't like that. I can't tell you why, but she's someone I've been watching for. I couldn't waste the golden opportunity presented when we were stuck in that elevator."
She stepped off the machine and walked to a nearby bench, plopping down while patting her perspiring forehead. "You're not helping your cause any."
He followed, sitting down beside her. "Let's just say I was approached by people in power, wanting me to make contact with that particular woman." She swiveled to look at him. Counting that for a positive, he continued. "I can't give details since it was just contact and she's a free woman, but I needed to meet her, find out where she's staying."
"Okay. Suppose what you're saying is true. Couldn't you have slipped her your room number or phone number? Heck, you could have tracked her down at the party after we arrived."
Cringing at her abrupt tone and clear insight, he released a long suffering sigh. "I'll admit, I didn't think. It was a shock to recognize her, and I couldn't come up with any other way to fulfill my requirements. What seemed like a good idea at the time now shows some holes."
"Some holes? Swiss cheese is more like it."
Refraining from debating her analysis, he shifted gears. "I spoke the truth when I said that I really wanted to spend the evening with you."
Fancy blinked, studied him for a long moment, then shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm not buying that." Standing up, she settled the towel around her neck. "While I do believe you didn't set out to hurt my feelings, I can't go along with the idea that you picked me out of the hundreds of women here to be with. I don't know if I was just convenient, you felt guilty, or perhaps I was just a challenge. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that I've been fooled once and won't be again."
"You're different and you've grown on me," he blurted out in honesty, treading water in this debate, fearing he was slowly sinking underwater.
"That doesn't a relationship make," she tartly pointed out.
"But it's a start. Look, I'm sorry. I wish I had come up with another solution. I didn't. My fault. I wish I could tell you the whole story. I'm sworn to secrecy and can't. I'm sorry about that, too." He stood up, taking one of her hands in his. "I really do want to spend time with you, learn more, banter with you, see the smile light up your eyes. Yes, I'm asking a lot for you to give me one more chance. But I promise, if you do, you won't regret it." His thumb lightly caressed her hand as he hardly dared to breathe, waiting on her decision. When she remained mute, he whispered, "You fascinate me, interest me, and amaze me with your spunk and fortitude. At least, give it a try. Just one more time. If I do anything wrong, you can kick my ass because heaven knows I'll do the same."
Her hazel eyes locked on his as she chewed on her bottom lip. She inhaled deeply. "I can't believe I'm saying this, and I'll surely kick myself later, but okay. I'll give you one more chance."
He grinned widely, lifting her hand to brush a kiss across her knuckles. "You won't regret it. I promise." Curiosity nagged at him. "Why did you follow us to her room?"
She blushed slightly and looked away. "I still couldn't believe you'd abandon me like you did. For a moment, I thought there had to be something fishy going on." She shrugged. "I guess I needed to see for myself that you were two-timing me." Her face pinched. "I couldn't think of another reason to get inside the room, to find out what was going on. Pretty lame, but it's all I had at the moment."
Mitch grinned as he felt his heart tug. "Not at all. First of all, thank you for rescuing me. Secondly, I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes even the best minds tend to stutter."
"Even yours?"
He nodded. "Especially mine." Kissing her hand once more, he sighed. "She won't interfere with us again. You have my word."
Chapter 14
"Where are we going exactly?"
After giving her time to shower and change, Mitch dragged her back downstairs, not the least deterred when she refused to attend the costume party. Instead, they found their way to a large buffet table filled with entrees, side items, and desserts provided by one of the publishing companies. With a bit of encouragement, she loaded up her plate, ate her fill, and watched her escort for the evening chew his food. Never before had she considered the simple act of breaking down bites of food into smaller portions even remotely sexy, but when Mitch performed the task, he somehow made the everyday action look sensual and alluring. Either that or her libido kicked into high gear, turning everything into a symbol of sex.
If he makes pulling mashed potatoes from a spoon look like enticing foreplay, think what he can do with his tongue and lips.
With a silent groan, she forced the new images from her mind, scolding her newly arrived hussy voice to keep quiet. He didn't need the ego boost, and she didn't need the distraction or the longings to jump in bed with a confirmed playboy.
Mitch led her through the small groupings of women dressed for the western theme party and farther down the hall. "Since you didn't want to dress up again, I thought we might attend the alternate entertainment."
"Which is?"
"There are author readings in one of the smaller conference rooms."
"Author readings?"
He slowed, allowing her to pull abreast while matching his steps to hers. "Yep. Some of the authors bring their books and read portions from it. Kinda like pre-school at the library when an adult would read a book to a bunch of kids. Same idea, only it's the author's own stories and we're all adults." He grinned down at her. "Like last night only to a bigger audience and no bed."
She sighed deeply at the memory, hoping she'd chosen correctly in giving Mitch another chance. He sounded sincere. Besides, something told her this might be her only chance to play Cinderella for the rest of her life. She couldn't pass this chance up. Middle age loomed ahead, and she really didn't want to spend the rest of her life alone. Work could provide only so much, after all.
They skirted a corner and entered the last room. Fancy blinked at the scene before her. A neutral shag carpet covered the floor, holding a couple of sofas, some straight-back chairs, and a handful of bean bag seats, setting up an environment of laid-back relaxation. A lush, plump arm chair sat at the front of the room, presumably waiting for the first author to enter, sit down as if taking the throne in a medieval castle in front of the small community of peasants. Extra pillows were stacked in one corner, apparently free for the taking. All in all, there were enough seats for perhaps twenty people tops, much different than the number anticipated several doors down at the main auditorium. Yet the cozy atmosphere promised an evening of tranquil entertainment, a fair competition to the main attraction.
"Where do you want to sit?" Mitch gestured toward the variety of furniture sprinkled throughout the room.
"Sofa?" Looking over all the selections, Fancy quickly latched onto the most comfortable looking one with the least amount of present occupants.
He led her over to a love seat and plopped down. She followed suit, her fingers still intertwined with his. "When does the show start?"
Flipping his wrist, he checked his watch. "Soon."
Sure enough, within a few minutes, a few more people trickled in along with an older lady with silver hair, carrying a hardback book. She greeted a couple of ladies before taking her seat at the front of the room.
"Are you sure you aren't going to miss anything at the party?" Fancy glanced over at Mitch, noting his clean shaven jawline, the wide brow, and waves in his short black hair. All contributed to his overall handsomeness. Combined with his prime, ripped body, he rivaled the legendary Adonis. No wonder women bought books with his picture on the cover. She certainly would.
He turned to meet her gaze. "Nope. Not at all. Believe it or not, the parties aren't my favorite part of the conventions."
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. She took him for a former frat boy turned party hopper in his spare time. "It's not?"
"Nope." He shot her a grin. "It's the people-watching."
She smirked. Of course, most of the attendees were women, which meant he stared at the droves of ladies as they mingled and milled around the hotel, in all shapes, sizes, hair colors, and outfits. Nothing about his confession shocked her in the least.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let's get started." The presumed author drew the small group's attention, silencing the room like a third grade teacher brought her class to order following recess. "I would like to read from my latest book entitled,
Tea for Two
."
Nice title. Reminded Fancy of summer afternoons on the front porch or perhaps a wintery evening in front of a fire. Maybe baking cookies in a toasty kitchen. Romantic and sweet.
"He secured the cuffs snugly on her wrists and picked up the small but sturdy riding crop.
Whap
.
Whap
. The stitched leather end landed on her pale flesh, leaving reddened marks behind. A drop of moisture appeared at the tip of his throbbing, granite-hard cock, the swollen purple head testament to his level of excitement, finally able to express his wildest fantasy."
Cuffs? Riding Crop? His throbbing, granite-hard what?
Nearly lulled into dozing, Fancy's eyes flew open, her mouth fell open, and her face burned as the lady continued to calmly read from her book like an audio version, revealing candid details in the tryst of lovers spending the night together. Hearing the words landed well past the risqué line, especially as the couple delved into the land of bondage and dominance. Astonishingly interested, Fancy could only stare at the woman, blink, and wonder how in the world she and Mitch managed to find the one event featuring erotica, a rather kinky variety too.
"She's good." Mitch leaned over to whisper in her ear.
Good?
The generic word seemed so lacking and vague. Good at writing sex? Good at reading sex? Good at stimulating her audience with sex?
Fancy's critique revolved more around the topic at hand, the hardcore play going on between the characters and how someone could read out loud without a single blush or stutter. Maybe the woman did her own audio books too. That at least made for a rational reason for her to be so calm and controlled. For all the author reacted, she could be sitting there reading Jack and Jill.
Come to think of it, maybe she was. Jack and Jill Fetch Water and a Ball Gag. Jill's Been Naughty, and Jack Has a New Paddle. Jack Finds a New Well. Jack and Jill Discover BDSM. Jack and Jill's Well House Orgy.
Choking on her own spit, she coughed to clear the obstruction. Several heads turned to stare at her.