Hers for the Evening (19 page)

The haughty façade turned him on. Inside she was probably screaming for him to get on with it. “They’d like to visit the plant.” He’d played golf with an investment group out of Seattle. Before doing a public offering, you had to feel out the interest level. If financial institutions didn’t back you or your stock price dropped significantly, you could end up getting a lot less than you’d planned on.

“Sounds good.” Devon was not normally a two-word-answer person.

“I would prefer that they come after the 10K has been signed off.” The report to the Securities and Exchange Commission was the final result of the year-end audit process. “I’d like to have the earnings release to give them.”

“I agree totally.”

Okay, that was three words. She glanced again at her watch, a twist of her wrist and a slide of her eyes, probably thinking he wouldn’t notice. Hunter noticed everything about her.

Her perfume was different, more exotic. Beneath the soft velvet, the beads of her nipples revealed how thinly laced her bra was. If she wore one at all. A pulse beat at her throat.

“Do you have any questions about them?” he asked. 126

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“Not right now. After I’ve had some time to mull it over, I’m sure I will.”

Devon always had questions. It was time to look at his own watch. Two minutes to go until the scheduled appointment. “Good. We can talk more on the plane tomorrow.” He turned, made a move to the door, stopped. “Do you want to do breakfast in the morning before we head out?”

He could almost feel her hold her breath so she wouldn’t scream at him.

“That would be fine. Seven-thirty?”

Damn, he shouldn’t find this so amusing. He pretended to consider that a moment. “Or I suppose we can catch a bite at the airport after we turn in the rental car.”

She huffed. “Whatever you decide.”

He’d made his decision. He was going to have her tonight. He’d thought of nothing else for two weeks, worked it, arranged it. The courtesan, who should be walking down the hall to her door right now, would play a big part in making it happen.

The man had damn well better be the punctual type. Hunter didn’t have a lot of excuses left. “Let’s eat here. The food will be better.”

Her nostrils flared. “Okay, fine. Seven-thirty.”

“We should probably load up the rental car first,” Hunter added. Devon shot out another breath. “All right.” Testiness hardened her consonants. “I’ll meet you in the lobby with my bag at seven-thirty ,” she emphasized. What was up with him? Devon had never known Hunter to be so indecisive. He usually said, “this is what we’ll do,” and it was up to her to object if she didn’t like it. That applied to a major business crisis or something as simple as where they’d take a vendor to lunch.

She wanted to scream. Get. Out. The other Hunter would be here at any moment. This was the dumbest idea she’d ever had, arranging for his services while on a business trip with Hunter. She felt darn near naked in the fishnet stockings, garter belt, short dress, the velvet draping her breasts, and no damn brassiere. If she leaned over even the slightest, the low-cut cowl neck would reveal everything down to her navel.

“Then we’re set,” he said, his expression bland. He didn’t care that she had another date or had used an excuse to get out of dinner. Nor did he seem to find it a big deal if he happened to be here when the man she’d dressed up for finally arrived. Dammit, he’d seen the wine and the platter. It appeared as if he was 127

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stalling in order to check out her date.

Well, it was a big freaking deal to her.

Rat-a-tat-tat.

Devon froze at the knock, her limbs seizing up, as if Hunter seeing his doppelganger was the end of the world. As if he’d know she’d hired his lookalike to fuck her.

It was completely mortifying.

Until she remembered that resemblance was in the eye of the beholder. People rarely saw that in themselves. Maybe he wouldn’t pick up on it.

“Ah, Devon, do you want me to open the door for you?” The hint of a smirk curled his lips.

She could swear he was laughing at her.

“No, I’ll get it.” She had to make sure the stand-in didn’t call himself Hunter. Rushing past, she yanked the door open. Her heart had been pounding for the last ten minutes. This must be what it felt like for your husband to catch you with your lover ten seconds after you’d both pulled your clothes on.

“Hi.” She practically dragged the courtesan inside. “This is Hunter Nash,” she said quickly. The man had been instructed to refer to himself as Hunter, to build her fantasy. She had to somehow communicate it was so not cool at this moment.

He extended his hand to Hunter. “Kenneth. Nice to meet you.”

The name shocked her. Kenneth. With his hair cut like Hunter’s and a dark gray suit and tie against a white shirt, he looked more like Hunter than Hunter did himself in the casual golf attire she wasn’t used to. The bone structure was different, sure, but Isabel was correct. Hair style, clothing, and a sexy grin went a long way.

They shook. Hunter sized him up, a quick flash of the eyes, up, down, but he gave off no clue as to whether he saw the similarity. “It’s great to meet a friend of Devon’s.”

Was he teasing? She wanted to shoot him.

“Any friend of Devon’s is a friend of mine.” Kenneth—really, this was ruining the whole fantasy—closed the door, then slipped his arm around her waist.

“Right, sweetie?”

She tipped her head back. What’s up with that? They were both teasing her.

“Sure, honey.” She used the endearment, but sent Kenneth a glare. 128

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He took her chin in his hand as he had that evening in her office, and gave her a kiss with enough tongue to liquefy her bones. At least it would have if the real Hunter hadn’t been watching.

She pulled back. “What are you doing?”

“You make me crazy in that sexy dress. I had to have a kiss.” His eyes glittered for her the way she’d always imagined Hunter’s would when he was horny. “I’m sure Hunter doesn’t begrudge me a brief kiss.” He glanced up.

“Right, man?”

“Not at all.” Good Lord. His blue eyes glittered in tandem with . . . the other guy’s.

Something was off in this whole scenario.

Kenneth chuckled, arm across her back hitching her closer, his hand splayed over her rib cage, gently nudging her breast. Hunter’s gaze dropped, and she could have sworn his breath quickened.

The courtesan nuzzled her hair. “I have a feeling old Hunter here wouldn’t mind watching at all.”

She swallowed. How had she lost control of the situation?

“Watching is great.” Hunter speared her with a blazingly hot look.

“Participating is so much better.”

Devon gasped, pulled free, and stepped back toward the door. “Now wait a minute here—”

Kenneth reeled her back in, brought his lips to her ear. “This is your fantasy,”

he whispered, his fingers rising inexorably to her breast. “Take it.” Her nipple came to life with his brief, but hard pinch. “You may never get another chance.”

He retreated enough to lock eyes with her.

She couldn’t say a word.

Still holding her trapped in his gaze, Kenneth pointed to the table. “Pour her a glass of wine.”

“I’m not getting her drunk in order to want this,” Hunter stated flatly. A look passed between the two of them. A corresponding chill shot through Devon. “What’s going on here, Hunter?”

He stared at her for . . . ever, then shot a quick glance at Kenneth. “I was in the office late on a Saturday night.”

Pins and needles jabbed every extremity. “Which Saturday?” Of course, she already knew.

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“There is only one Saturday that counts.” His answer said it all. Good Lord. He’d seen her. Her skin heated, her face burned, her vision blurred. Like the Wicked Witch, she wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor and drain away unnoticed through the grout in the entry tile.

“I’ve thought of nothing else but being a part of it ever since.” Hunter didn’t move, didn’t try to touch her, yet his eyes caressed her body as if he’d used his hands. “You can’t possibly imagine how much I want you.”

As much as she wanted him. She wasn’t alone in this obsession. As terrifying as it was to have her secret revealed, she wasn’t the only one anymore. He felt the same things. The tension stretching across her chest had the slightest give, but for one issue. “How did you know about tonight?”

“I know about Courtesans.” Not a single muscle on his face twitched. His gaze didn’t flinch or flicker.

Once again her body froze, time suspended. He knew of Courtesans. It still didn’t make sense. How could he have connected all those dots? She jerked a thumb at the stand-in. “He told you that’s where he came from?”

The courtesan stood there, arm still anchoring her to him, fingers brushing her breast, and let Hunter field the questions.

“I received an anonymous voice mail to come to the office that night, and I recognized the woman’s voice.”

Isabel. She was the only one. “How could she do that?” Devon shook her head. It was a violation of the trust clients placed in Courtesans, in Isabel herself. She preached confidentiality. “I’m her client.”

“You’re her friend.” Kenneth tucked her hair behind her ear. That would be how Isabel thought. Devon was no longer a Courtesans’

patron; she was Isabel’s friend. Isabel had never considered Hunter off limits once they were both divorced. Business and pleasure were separate. Instead of supplying a fantasy, she provided what she believed Devon truly wanted: the real Hunter, not a stand-in.

“It’s a gift she wanted to give you.” Kenneth turned her chin to Hunter, forced her to look at her CFO, her employee, the man she’d lusted after for months. “Tell him you need it,” he murmured.

She couldn’t breathe. Hunter captured her with the blueness of his eyes. Her gaze dropped. He was big, hard, filling out his slacks. His arms were still bronzed from yard work in the summer sun. His chest beneath the fitted polo shirt was 130

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muscled, tantalizing. A lock of dark hair nudged down onto his forehead.

“It’s your choice, Devon. I asked Isabel to tell me the next time you were with him.” He didn’t say Kenneth’s name or look at him. “I’ll leave now if you ask me to. I don’t want you to feel coerced.” He took one step, a hand out, like a man trying to reassure a frightened animal. Then he smiled, a devastatingly sexy smile that melted her and drenched her panties. “But I need this,” he said, undermining her desire to be pissed as hell. “You have no idea how badly.”

Despite another’s arms around her and his hand on her breast, Hunter was the only man in the room. She’d ponder how he’d tricked her tomorrow. She’d deal with Isabel’s definition of friendship later. Maybe she wouldn’t give a damn later.

Because, God help her, Hunter was everything she’d dreamed of for the last year. Kenneth was right, this was everything she wanted. Everything times two.

“Stay,” she whispered.

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8

HUNTER’S HEART DAMN NEAR JACKHAMMERED THROUGH HIS CHEST. “We need a glass of wine to celebrate.”

Devon stared at him wide-eyed. Now that she’d agreed, she’d freaked herself out, but he knew her well enough. Once she said yes, she meant it. He uncorked the bottle, a sweet dessert wine she favored. He poured, drank deeply, the sweetness caressing his throat as he swallowed, topped off again, then filled the second glass, and set the bottle back in the ice bucket. She stood within the courtesan’s hold. Without letting go, the man propelled her forward, deeper into the room, almost as if he were presenting her to Hunter, and it somehow made the moment hotter. Slipping his hand beneath the fall of hair at her nape, Hunter held the glass to her lips. “Drink.”

She sipped. He didn’t force her to take more than she wanted.

“Now taste me,” he ordered. Blood rushed through his veins. His hand a guide on the back of her neck, she rose slightly on her high heels, tipping her head back. Finally, after ten years, her mouth touched his. Holy Christ. He drowned in her scent, in the sweetness of her lips. She licked him first, along the seam, entreating him to open. He wanted nothing more than to devour her. She tasted sweet like the wine, fresh like winter air, and the hot spiciness of feminine arousal intoxicated him. He took her tongue deep, then forced a retreat and took her mouth. Her nipples hardened against his chest, and he felt the imprint of a male hand as the courtesan teased her breasts.

He’d never done a threesome, never thought he’d want to share, but watching her that night had done something to him. He wanted to see as well as do. He wanted to watch her be tasted as much as taste her himself. Kissing her, he stole a hand between them and worked her other nipple. She moaned and writhed, rose high on her heels to wrap her arm around his neck, and consumed his mouth as if it were the spoils of war. Together, he and the courtesan drove her closer to ecstasy, then, as if telepathy existed, they pulled back at the same moment, leaving her frenzied, bewildered, wanting, craving.

She blinked, focused, glanced from him to Kenneth and back. Her chest rose 132

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and fell. She licked her lips. “Which one first?” she whispered. The courtesan tossed his jacket on a chair, stripped off his tie, and undid his shirt to the third button. Moving behind her, he bent his knees, holding her hips and grinding his pelvis against her ass. “You don’t have to choose. We can both play at once.” He raised his eyes to Hunter’s as he rocked against her. “I suck your nipples, he licks your pussy.” She moaned for them both. “He fucks you, you suck my cock. It’s interactive. Nobody gets left out.”

She laid her head back on his shoulder and pierced Hunter with her gaze. There was no coercion; she wanted this, she knew what she was doing. He reached inside her bodice and cupped one bare breast, flicked the nipple, then bent close to lightly bite the turgid bud.

“Hunter.” She moaned. He’d heard her say his name exactly like that before. With the other man’s mouth on her pussy, then his cock buried inside her. His name, not Kenneth’s. Her pleasure enflamed him. He rewarded her, taking her nipple deep, sucking.