Guilty Pleasures (3 page)

Eva refused to laugh at the whining tone. “Yes, we have to. It's our anniversary, and I want to have some fun.”

Jake had other plans. The hotel was packed with a convention of bank executives, and he knew they could score big. “I'll go sightseeing on one condition.”

Suspicion clouded her eyes. “What
”

He smiled, and she melted against her will, like ice cream left out too long. “Jake…”

“Just this last job.” He got up and approached her. He put his hands on either side of her waist, his thumbs stroking the undersides of her heavy breasts. “I swear, baby. Just this last time.” A hot kiss on her throat, her chin, her lips. Once, twice, longer.

She murmured yes against his mouth.

His fingers teased her nipples to hard pebbles, and it was off to the races.

 

2

It was lunchtime. The conventioneers swarmed the bar, occupied all the seats in the restaurant.

“Are you sure about this
” Eva whispered as they stood at the entrance.

“Absolutely. Go do your thing. Call me when you're ready.”

Eva drew in a breath and sauntered into the dimly lit room. She quickly scanned the occupants, seeking the most likely candidate.

She smiled when she spotted him at the end of the bar. She lifted her chin. The adrenaline charged her like a new battery. If she were a man, she'd have a hard-on. The hunt always did that to her, the equivalent of foreplay.

She approached, pretended to look for someone as she absently took a seat. She brushed against his arm, nearly caused him to spill his drink.

“Oh my goodness. I'm so sorry.” She reached for a napkin and patted his chest.

“No harm done.” Pale lashes shading paler blue eyes peered at her through horn-rimmed glasses. He held his arms up and away from his plump body as she wiped away the invisible spill.

“I can be so clumsy sometimes. That's what I get for not paying attention.” She balled up the napkin, checked his fingers.
Gold band, third finger, left hand. Bingo.
Her eyes flitted over him. A Mona Lisa smile, secret and seductive pulled at the corners of her mouth. “At least let me buy you a drink.”

“I … I c-couldn't do that.”

She noticed his stutter and wondered if it was natural or nerves. “Please.” She pressed a bit closer, giving him a whiff of her Dior.

His doughboy faced flushed; the Adam's apple bobbed up and down. “If y-you insist.”

Eva leaned in. Her breasts brushed his chest. “I'm sorry. What did you say
It's so noisy in here.”

Perspiration dotted his upper lip. “Uh, the d-drink. That would be f-fine.”

She turned to the bar, got the bartender's attention. “One more for the gentleman.”

Eva leaned toward the mark and in his ear said, “My name is Leslie. And yours
”

“S-Stan. Stan Ingram.” He licked thin pink lips.

“Pleasure.” The word was a hot puff of air. She felt him shiver. Eva put her purse on the counter and hopped up on the stool, her shirt rising to a dangerous height. “So what brings you here
” she asked, keeping her voice low, forcing him to lean in to hear her.

“Convention,” he shouted.

Eva nodded. “You're with the group
”

“Huh
”

She crooked her finger. He leaned his head toward her. She repeated her question.

“Yes. I … I a-am.”

Their drinks arrived. She raised her glass. “To … hmmm … new friends.”

His pale blue eyes almost sparkled. He clinked his glass against hers.

“So, Stan, what do you do
”

He launched into a banal, mind-numbing monologue about his job at the bank, how long he'd been there, his grandiose plans for the future.

Eva pretended to listen, smiling, nodding and offering the appropriate
hmm umms
in all the right places. In reality, she was doing a quick calculation: ten years at the bank, four as VP of financial securities. He should easily rake in a cool hundred-grand-plus, not including perks. One more thing she needed to check.

“It must be hard on your wife when you have to travel.”

He cleared his throat, adjusted his navy pin-striped tie. His cheeks grew rosy. “Lenora unders-stands. S-she knows it's p-part of the j-job.”

“That's wonderful. Tell me more.” She signaled for another round of drinks.

*   *   *

“Listen, I am so glad you suggested we get out of that bar,” Eva said, wrinkling her nose. They walked toward the elevator. “It was so hard to hear you. And your life seems so fascinating. I've never met a vice president before.”

He blushed crimson. No one ever complimented Stan Ingram. Most folks generally ignored him, even his wife, of late. To have this gorgeous woman hang on to his every word was the kind of ego boost that Stan only dreamed of. She smelled good, looked good. She didn't laugh at his stutter, but rather at his jokes. No one laughed at Stan's jokes. Not even his wife. This woman was interested in what he had to say. She asked questions. She touched him when she spoke or laughed. No one touched him. Not even his wife. He couldn't remember the last time he and Lenora had a conversation—a real conversation, one that didn't center around her achievements and his lack thereof. Lenora was a beautiful woman too. But her dark-haired beauty had become cold, distant, and calculated. Still, he couldn't let her go. He remained mesmerized by the fact that she'd allowed him into her life, to partake of her bed, to experience the wonders of her body. He was trapped. But while he was with Leslie, he could pretend that none of that mattered.

“We could order room service. I-if y-you're hungry.” He swallowed.

Eva turned to him and smiled. “I'm starving.” She ran her tongue slowly across her lips.

The elevator dinged. They went up to Stan's room.

This should be over in an hour, tops.
Eva followed Stan inside.

*   *   *

Eva tossed their things into the suitcases, squashing Jake's shirts like dirty laundry. Another vacation blown to hell—and their anniversary, at that. She threw eye-daggers at him. He was busy checking the photos. He went over them one by one—a second time, then a third and fourth. Eva slammed a suitcase shut, leaving the sleeves of his good shirt dangling like broken wings.