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Authors: Rogue Phoenix Press

Tags: #romance, #contemporary

Safari Moon

BOOK: Safari Moon
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Safari Moon

AnnChristine

 

Published by Rogue Phoenix Press
at Smashwords

Copyright © 2009

978-0-9820025-4-4

 

 

Electronic rights reserved by Rogue Phoenix
Press, all other rights reserved by author. The reproduction or
other use of any part of this publication without the prior written
consent of the rights holder is an infringement of the copyright
law.

 

This is a work of fiction. People and
locations, even those with real names, have been fictionalized for
the purposes of this story.

Chapter One

 

 

Wanted: A professional wildlife photographer
to take pictures in the Alaskan wilderness. Experience first hand a
real safari moon. Call(555)381-1252 or send resumes to 2286 Main,
Suite 2D Bend, Oregon.

 

Solo St. John was in the middle of an erotic
dream about his buddy, Nyssa Harrington, when the click of his
front door shutting brought him to instant alert mode.

 

Solo looked up, caught a flashing glimpse of
a good deal of naked flesh; long legs, perfectly rounded derriere,
and a waist he could span with his hands. The intruder's long blond
hair curled around her shoulders an inch above the ties of her
bikini top.

 

Then he saw the skunk. He blinked twice.

 

This woman and the skunk were not the
subject of his brief and very strange dream, a fantasy that made
his mind speed along at sixty in a residential zone. This was
someone he had never seen before and he resented the intrusion.

 

"Hello," she cooed seductively from his
living room. "Will you come out and play?"

 

The skunk stuck a black and white head
around the open door to his bedroom. A second later the animal
turned and lifted his tail before disappearing into the living
room.

 

Solo was out of bed and pulling on his jeans
before the count of five. Yet in that short time, the lady in
question, along with the skunk that was now exploring his fireplace
hearth, had taken over his living room.

 

The lithe, supple blond sported an expensive
camera, and all the while the lady in question babbled nonsense
words.

 

"I'm willing, able, and eager." She posed
for him, a pose meant to entice.

 

"You're insane?" He hesitated then said to
the lady, "Get that animal out of here!"

 

"I read the ad in the newspaper for a
wildlife photographer, and I wanted to be the first one here." She
smiled and tugged on a leash which was connected to the skunk.
"Juniper is my pet. She's deperfumed or whatever."

 

Pet?

 

He had never, to his recollection, set eyes
on this woman. Frozen stock-still in his bare feet between the
bedroom and the living room of his rustic forest retreat in the
hills outside Sisters, Oregon, Solo St. John was completely,
utterly baffled.

 

After all, he had placed the ad in a few of
the most widely distributed papers in Oregon. That was two days
ago. Yesterday, having second thoughts and knowing he didn't want
to train an assistant, he pulled it. Although none of this made
sense, instinctively, he knew she told the truth. The ad was the
cause of this phenomenon in his cabin.

 

"Come here and play." Posing seductively
once again, she beckoned him with one slim index finger.

 

Why didn't he want to play? Wouldn't any
normal, warm-blooded American male dream of waking up to an almost
naked blond bombshell in his living room? Wouldn't that male want
to play?

 

Why didn't he feel turned on and excited.
Why didn't he fantasize about what would happen if he obeyed? All
those lush curvaceous parts on display didn't interest him in the
least.

 

He closed his eyes for a brief count of
three. No, this wasn't a dream and the slap on the face he gave
himself didn't cause the vision to disappear. He still had a good
view of long, shapely legs and a bust line that threatened to pop
the seams of her minuscule top.

 

"Lord." Only now, he realized he must have
left his front door unlocked. He pulled his gaze from the fiasco on
his hearth and reminded himself that a gentleman didn't stare.

 

"Smile." She brought the camera up and
clicked a sideways snapshot of him before she stepped back and
captured a print of the skunk. "You did want someone who could
photograph wildlife. Didn't you?"

 

Solo raked a hand through short, ragged
blond hair he knew had begun to stand on end. He didn't need this,
and he was always hard pressed to put two and two together this
late at night. He was a morning person, up before dawn. Even if
he'd had all his wits about him, he wouldn't know how to politely
rid himself of this strange intruder and her pet skunk.

 

He didn't want to admit, even to himself,
but it looked like she was disrobing. Stripping was a better term.
All she needed were a pair of tassels and music.

 

As he stepped forward in an attempt to stop
her, she slipped off her top and twirling it around her index
finger tossed it at him. The bikini bra flew past him and missed
his nose by less than an inch. The bottoms landed squarely against
his chest and slid down his body to land on his bare feet. Before
he could reach her, she stood in front of him, all kinds of pale
pink flesh revealed and waiting for him.

 

"You didn't listen. I came to apply for the
job--Solo."

 

What job? Not the want ad he'd placed in the
paper and then discarded. His mind whirled with questions, but it
also automatically supplied a professional reply--appropriate for a
job interview in his office, anyway. "And what do you think your
qualifications are?"

 

"Isn't it obvious?" she returned throwing
her arms wide and puffing out her voluptuous breasts. She moved
sideways, graced him with a profile that should have made him
drool. Before he could respond, she held the camera to her eye and
he heard rapid fire clicks of the shutter. "I can take sixty-five
shots a minute," she told him breathily. "Among other things."

 

With a great deal of effort, he tried not to
look at the other things she referred to. Instead, he focused his
gaze on Juniper. The skunk looked as out of place as he felt.

 

Realizing he needed to get this lady and her
props out of his house, sooner than later, Solo grabbed a knitted
afghan from the couch.

 

"Here." He held the cover in front of him
with stiff arms and his eyes closed, though he'd already seen all
her charms.

 

"If you insist. You must know I can work
under any conditions. I don't have any inhibitions." She shrugged
off his offering and stared disdainfully at the clothes she'd
discarded. "I mean, you do want your new assistant to be willing,
able, and eager. Don't you, Solo? That is what the ad said."

 

He didn't like the way she said his name so
intimately. And he'd never mentioned anything about willing, able,
and eager in his ad. His non-existent ad. "How did you find the
cabin?"

 

She purred. At least that was what he
thought he heard.

 

"Asked direction at the little grocery store
down the road. Told the nice old lady behind the counter I was your
fiancée and I wanted to surprise you. She thought that was the
sweetest thing she'd ever heard."

 

"Sweet?"

 

"When I got here and found the front door
unlocked, I walked in." She offered him a smug smile. "Well, do I
get the job?"

 

"I don't think so," he deadpanned.

 

He was used to women throwing themselves at
him. His tall frame and classic Roman features, coupled with the
tan and wheat-blond hair he sported, he was told, made him
irresistible to the opposite sex. He didn't pretend to understand
why he was so often singled out, but he'd lived with it all his
life. True, women had always flocked after him, but never before
had anyone gone to such extreme lengths to impress him.

 

He stepped farther from the fireplace,
hoping to distance himself from the nightmarish situation. “Tell
me, what kind of job do you think you’ve applied for?”

 

“Your personal assistant. What else?”

 

“That’s what I’m afraid to ask.”

 

“Well, I intend to give you all the fringe
benefits of my perfect bod.” She moved her hips suggestively.

 

“I haven’t asked for them,” he managed.
“What makes you think I advertised for or want fringe
benefits?”

 

“You don’t have to play coy with me. I know
what you want. I heard Colonel St. John say you liked aggressive
women.”

 

She didn’t have a clue. “I doubt that--”
Solo paused then, "He said what?”

 

“Oh, come on. You’re no different from any
of the male species these days. One track mind and all.
Sex...sex...sex with a capital X.” She fluttered her eyes lashes.
“I even had my boobs improved. Just for you.”

 

In two days?
Impossible, he thought desperately. What could he
have put in that damn want ad to provoke this insane
stunt?

 

“Look at my boobs,” she coaxed. “Don’t you
think they’re perfect? I had a butt lift too.”

 

His gaze flashed to her gargantuan breasts
then dropped to her derriere, which he hadn’t looked at before.
He’d been occupied elsewhere. But, no, he didn’t see anything
special about any part of her anatomy.

 

“Kitty Kollier.” She extended her hand while
she moistened her lips with her pink tongue. Finally, almost
defiantly, she grabbed the afghan but did nothing with it. “My
credentials are impeccable. I’ve never been fired from a job in my
life. Surely you can hire me. I promise you won’t regret a
minute.”

 

He already did. “I don’t think you
understand what the job requires.” He tried to take the sting out
of the inevitable rejection. In Alaska there would be little time
for the kind of hanky-panky she had in mind. “I need an assistant,
true. But I need someone who can develop film and keep records.
They need to be quiet, on demand, and awake at all hours of the
night.” Was he digging himself an early grave?

 

“You do remember my qualifications, don’t
you?” She peered at him with pale, empty blue eyes that hid, he
felt sure, an IQ no larger than her new, surgically improved bust
line. Which gave her quite a span of numbers to work with.

 

“Do I have to spell it out for you?”

 

She smiled demurely. Or what someone named
Kitty’s version of demure looked like, at any rate. “Your ad
already did--spell it out. Willing--eager--able. That’s me.” She
sidled closer, a long manicured, fake fingernail pointed at him.
Idly, she ran the hard tip down his naked chest. He had the
impression she intended playing with him.

 

Solo reminded himself he wasn’t her toy
mouse. He reached for her hand, grabbing it in one swift move in
order to push her away. She pursed her lips in a calculated little
pout. He didn’t know what she’d read but he wasn’t about to keep
her in his house a minute longer.

 

His normal mode of behavior was to avoid
scenes at any cost, but this time he didn’t see that he had a
choice. This woman did not understand any subtle hint he might dish
out. Keeping his distance the best he could, he bent to pick up her
bikini from the floor. “I’m not hiring you. Do you have any other
clothes?”

 

“But, Solo...”

 

She fluttered her lashes in what he hoped
would be her last effort. The work she put into the flirtation
almost caused her to drop her blanket. Holding the material with
one hand at her chest, she let the sides of it slide apart barely
keeping her breasts covered. Then she pushed her shoulder forward
in a blatant display, obviously trying to attract him.

 

“I heard you needed someone, and...” Her
words were as artificial as the woman herself. “You weren’t
advertising for a personal assistant, but you wanted to settle down
with someone special. The ad was a cover.”

 

Solo’s feet froze to the braided rug. “You
heard what?”

 

“You were too shy to put something in the
personal section, but you really looked for a wife. I was told you
planned to interview all the applicants and see what they had to
offer.” She cooed. “That’s just so cute, that a guy like you would
be so shy when it comes to...well, you know...sex. Like I told
you...”

 

“You’re willing, eager, and able,” he
finished for her.

BOOK: Safari Moon
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