The Seduction of Kinley Foster (What Happens in Vegas) (11 page)

Chapter Fourteen

By the time Kinley grabbed a bite to eat and found the correct conference room, the place was filling up. She found a seat in the front row and opened her laptop. She laid her purse on the chair beside her to save the spot for elbow room. She didn’t like to be crowded at meetings. And she wasn’t that good at appropriate chit chat. That’s why Charlie knew so much about her by the end of the airplane ride. Lord, the woman even knew she’d been wearing her un-sexy school uniform underneath an un-sexy orange raincoat the day she’d shown up at Ian’s offering up her virginity.

A volunteer introduced the speaker—an author whose first book went to auction and sold for big bucks, an event every author hopes happens to them at least once in their career.

“Dialogue should never be on the nose,” the speaker said. “On the nose is when the character says exactly what they are feeling. People seldom say exactly what they mean—unless they are with someone they feel safe with. Like a best friend.”

Kinley snorted. Obviously, the speaker didn’t know even best friends can’t be trusted. Look at Ian and her brother.

“Instead, use subtext. Have characters circle around the truth. This is how we speak in real life,” the speaker said.

Was that true?

Kinley’s phone vibrated. She pushed her glasses up her nose and read the incoming text message.

Did you use subtext on me this morning? —Ian

Kinley’s heart stopped. Her girly parts clenched. She frowned. Was he in the same session? Why was he texting her? He was supposed to be avoiding her so she didn’t have to avoid him.

She fanned herself with her hand. Damn. He was older than her. He should know the rule of one-night stands: no further contact. Nada. Zilch. The big fat Uno. It happened. It’
s over.

What game was he playing? She sat up straight. She refused to turn her head and find him in the crowd. She would ignore him.

She typed what the speaker was saying. Mid-paragraph, her fingers stalled on the keys.

If she didn’t respond, would he think it was because she cared? Knowing him, he probably would. No way in hell was she going to let him think she cared. She grabbed her phone.

Using her index finger, she punched out her response.

None of it was subtext. All truth.—Kinley

She wished she could see his face when he read her reply. Was he really so self-absorbed as to think she lied? That she was into him and just didn’t want him to know? What an egomaniac.

Maybe I spoke in subtext.

Her brows furrowed. She chewed the inside of her lip. What did that mean? Was that comment subtext for something else? Damn him. Damn her for being curious. Damn. Damn. Damn.

What did you not say?

Why wasn’t he out schmoozing with other important people instead of attending a session on the craft of writing? He didn’t need to be here.

The speaker segued from subtext to yes/no alternatives. “Never answer a yes/no question with a yes/no answer. Always have them respond in a way that is more interesting. Have your characters respond in a way that makes the reader an active participant in deciphering what the characters are saying.”

I enjoyed spanking you.—Ian

Of course he enjoyed spanking her. He enjoyed embarrassing her. He’d always enjoyed embarrassing her.

Because you’re an ASS.

She wanted to stand up and shout the words at him, but she settled with texting them in caps. God, this man brought out the worst in her. Five seconds in his presence and she’d reverted back to middle school.

He didn’t respond right back. Was he having second thoughts on what he was going to say? Or was he done with their war of words?

Or because you have a fabulous ass, and when it’s rosy from my hand it’s every man’s fantasy.

Kinley could feel the heat of a blush infusing her body. Having him spank her had been so frustrating, but, at the same time, it turned her on. She didn’t know why, but—
wowza
. Part of her wanted to push him as hard as she could to see if he would do the deed again. Part of her. Just a small part. The part that was remembering last night’
s exquisite orgasms.

Of course, she wouldn’t allow it to ever happen again. That would be asinine.

Enough of the games, Ian.
What do you want?

This time his reply came quickly.

You.

A dizzy feeling swamped her. He wanted her? What did that mean?

What?

Another long pause.

Last night was spectacular. And I want to do it again.

Goose bumps popped like kernels of corn on her arms. She’
d won? She
’d won the bet? She’d won a bet against Ian. No way. She reread the text. Yep—way.

Kinley wanted to jump and shout JACKPOT!

He hadn’t been about to dump her this morning. He hadn’t…

She exhaled a breath. This was crazy.

Sure as she was sitting in the front row, this was a joke. Somehow, there was going to be a punch line thrown into all of these texts, and she knew whom the punch line was going to punch.

Ha ha, very funny. Go away.

She didn’t have time for this. She dropped her phone in her purse and listened to what the speaker said. The woman really knew her stuff.

Kinley’s phone vibrated in her purse.

She drew in an unsteady breath and ignored the silent pulsing. Ian couldn’t harass her if she didn’t read his texts. But what if her mom called? To see how things were going? She should check. Just in case. She fished her phone out. Her vibrators tried to tumble out in the process, causing her heartbeat to kick up several notches while grinding through gears and missing a few.
Shit
. She shoved them back down in her purse. Why hadn’t she left them in her luggage? She read the text.

If you call me a liar again, I’m going to have to spank you tonight.

A rush of decadent desire flooded Kinley. Or maybe fear. She didn’t really want to be spanked. It hurt. The thrill was really just in knowing someone would do it, not the actuality of it happening.

In your dreams.

She pulled at the neckline of her dress and fanned herself, suddenly very hot. Crap, at twenty-six she was having one of her mom’s hot flashes. Or maybe it was a guilt flash. Or a “worst sister of the year” flash. Her brother and Ian may have moved past the fiancée incident, but her brother wouldn’t move past them becoming sexual partners. Any guy that would sleep with their friend’s fiancé sure as hell wasn’t going to be good enough for that friend’s sister.

The heat intensified.

Was she having a guilt-induced heatstroke?

Could she die of a heatstroke while sitting in a conference room in January with goose bumps coming and going on her arms like ants at a picnic?

She fanned harder.

Or in your fantasies, Kinley.

She uncrossed and re-crossed her legs in the opposite direction. She could feel a pleasant tingle. The kind of tingle that would drive a woman crazy if it stayed there all day. Was his text subtext for saying he’d heard her telling him to spank her in her fantasies? Or was it just a generic saying?

I’m blocking your number.

She fumbled with her phone to find the place to block him. Her finger hovered over the “block this contact” option. A smart woman would block his number. Forget he existed. Just like she’d managed to do over the past ten years. Sort of. Well, not really. But that was beside the point. Another text came through.

Let me teach you kink. You won’
t regret it.

Then again…she could respond to just one more text.

Liar.

Chapter Fifteen

Ian chuckled, and his palm itched to feel the soft, creamy expanse of Kinley’s bare bottom. “Well played, Kinley Foster,” he muttered under his breath. “Very well played.” He slipped out the back entrance, hoping the speaker didn’t see him leave and take it personally. The only reason he’d come was because he’d observed Kinley entering the session and had followed her.

He’d love to make a scene and drag her back to their suite. Make good on his promise to spank her. Unfortunately, he was due to take pitches for the rest of the afternoon. And as a respected agent, he couldn’t be seen causing scenes.

Besides…anticipation never killed a man. And Kinley needed time to process the fact that he planned to spank her.

And they would need rules.

“Hi,” said a smartly-dressed black lady, interrupting his thoughts as they both stepped into an available elevator and pushed the buttons for their designations.

The door closed and the elevator voice said, “Going down.”

The lady laughed. “Sorry. My dirty mind always takes it wrong when I hear his voice saying going down.”

Ian chuckled. She was nice looking. Middle-aged. “And now it will strike me as inappropriate every time I hear it.” He searched for her name badge. She wasn’t wearing one. Which could mean she wasn’t a participant of the conference, or it could mean she was an agent or an editor hoping not to be caught in an elevator with an author anxious to pitch to her. He often took his badge off when he wasn’t in one of the session rooms. Funny, she didn’t look like anyone he normally did business with, and it was a small industry.

She held out her hand. “I’m C. Southern. If I’m not mistaken, you’re I. Hartley.” She had a nice southern drawl to go with her last name. Her accent reminded him of an author he represented who lived in New Orleans.

He shook her hand. “You’re not mistaken.” Was she a new editor? He didn’t recall seeing her before. “Are you a writer?” He went for the safe question. Of the twenty-four hundred participants at the Romance Lovers Conference, over a thousand of them were writers.

She laughed. A booming noise. “Not exactly. But this week I’ve found myself branching out. Offering my services to a writer who is trying to broaden her experiences. Bless her heart.” She gave Ian a quick look and then stared straight ahead.

Ian had the feeling the woman was up to something. He just couldn’t decide what. “I also find myself helping a writer this week.”

The woman gave him a sideways look. Ridiculous beads on her eyelashes caught his attention. A tiny smile lifted her lips—a smile that was both mysterious and mischievous.

She was definitely up to something. What?

She rummaged in her purse and pulled out her phone.

The elevator stopped, and the door slid open.

“This is my floor,” she said, while pushing buttons on her phone. She gave him another quick glance before placing the phone to her ear. She stepped out the door. “Hi, glad I caught you. You’re never going to believe who I rode—”

The door shut.

Ian took a step back and leaned against the wall, chuckling at where C. Southern’s phone conversation took his dirty mind. Who did she
ride
last night? He glanced down and noticed a pink card on the floor. She must have dropped it when she pulled out her phone. He bent down to pick up the card. Flipped it over. An invitation.

Fantasy Bashes

By

Charlie & Dan

Must have this card to attend.

RSVP for details.

1800-300-6969

Chapter Sixteen

“Just one moment,” Kinley whispered into the phone, stepping out of the session on dialogue and into the hotel’s busy hallway. Writers carrying matching conference bags were congregating in small groups, supposedly waiting for the next session to begin. But in actuality, Kinley guessed they were ogling a photo shoot of male models in the adjacent conference room.

Kinley did a little ogling herself.

A male model left the photo shoot. Two women vacated a bench to follow him. Kinley grabbed it. “What’
s up?
” she asked, tugging off a boot and rubbing her toes. What possessed her to bring this particular pair on her trip? They weren’t comfortable.

Sexy, but not comfortable.

Oh yeah. She’d brought them to wear while out searching for men to have one-night stands with, all in the name of keeping her New Year’s resolution to have sex this year. While her hiatus had given her time to write the book she always wanted to write, she’d missed dating. Missed sex. Had decided to be a woman that dates around. Not settle for one guy at a time. She admired women who went after sex with the same gusto men did. She wanted to be one of those women—a woman with no sexual hang-ups about doing what she wanted.

“You’re not going to believe who I rode the elevator with just now,” Charlie said. She sounded out of breath. Giddy.

“The Pope?” Kinley searched the hallway for Ian, only half-listening to Charlie. Where had he gone? Had he been serious? Had she? What happened to her grudge against him? Was her hate dissipating? What about her self-preservation?

“Bless your heart. You do try to be funny. I saw your man.” Charlie’s loud booming voice pulled Kinley back into the conversation.

Kinley’s breaths shortened and her stomach tightened like someone had just shoved her body into a pair of Spanx. “My man?” Please let her be misinterpreting the comment.

“
Yes. Your man.
”

“How do you know what my
man
looks like?” She asked the question quietly. Trying not to jump to conclusions. Did she even have a “my man?”

“Ummmm…”
There was a short pause as if it dawned on Charlie that Kinley didn’t sound peachy. “Dan and I dropped by the Club last night.”

Kinley threw an internal conniption.
Son of a
—
damn it.
“You guys spied on me?” Her tone must have leaked anger, because those around glanced her way. Unable to force a fake smile, she turned her head so they couldn’t see her face.

First her brother interfered in her life and now Charlie. Why couldn’t people let her be an adult without a shadow guardian? “Why would you do that to me?”

“I thought you might need Dan to hit on you if no one else did.”

“Do you know how insulting that is?”

“No.”

“Well, it is. You were afraid all your hard work wouldn’t be enough for me to get a man’s attention.”

“Bless your heart. That’s not what I thought. I just wanted you to win the bet. I’m sorry if I took my role too far.”

Kinley relaxed her grip on the phone. Charlie meant well. Just like her brother. “Fine. Just let me handle things from here on out.” She exhaled, letting go of the tension. She was being too sensitive.

“
Honey, I don
’t make promises I might have already broken. Anyhoo…he was really uptight. I couldn’t tell if he was wound up in a good way or a bad way. You know what I mean?”

Already broken promises?
“What—”

“
Whoops. Can
’t hear you. It’s noisier than a swinger’s party on Bourbon Street around me. We’ll talk later.”

The phone went dead. What had Charlie done? And what was that about a swinger’s party?