Sinfully Sexy (14 page)

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Authors: Linda Francis Lee

Tags: #Romance, #Sex in the workplace, #Fiction

BOOK: Sinfully Sexy
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"Unfortunately, I never got to the crowd part."
Julia laughed out loud, took Chloe's hand, then pulled her along to her
bedroom. In a matter of thirty minutes, with Julia's help, Chloe
dressed and fixed her hair. They worked on her makeup, and Julia
even insisted on a dab of perfume. When finally they returned to the
ballroom, Chloe hardly recognized herself.
When she walked in, Pete was taping one of the Roses as she introduced
herself to Trey. Several heads turned. Trey concentrated on the moment
like a pro. But the minute Pete called cut, Trey looked over
at her as if he had sensed she was there all along.
His dark eyes heated with a sensuality that she recognized. She felt as
if he undressed her with his gaze.
"Next!" Pete barked.
Leticia stood from her chair, her red dress glittering like a jewel
under the intense lights. "I'm ready."
Trey refocused.
"Roll tape."
Leticia strode forward, staring directly at Trey. Chloe could feel the
intensity that the woman exuded.
Her body looked like every man's wet dream.
"The camera adds twenty pounds," Julia whispered. "She's going to look
fat."
Chloe told herself that she wasn't happy about it. In fact, she
forcefully reminded herself of her plan.
"Hello, Trey," the woman purred in an
I-want-to-have-wild-passionate-sex-with-you voice. "I look forward to
spending time with you. I look forward to getting to know you. And I
hope you look
forward to me."
She emphasized the word me. Not
seeing
me
, or even
getting to know me
.
No one under the age of thirteen would understand the double meaning,
but everyone older would.
Trey smiled, then kissed the back of her hand.
Next came Mindy. If the nurse had been worried before, she had packed
the worry up along with her white stockings and crepe-soled shoes.
Chloe would have sworn that the royal blue organza blouse she had
chosen was unbuttoned a few buttons lower than when everyone had first
gathered in the ballroom.
"Hi, Trey," she stated, sounding more like a high school cheerleader
than a medical professional. "I'm hoping that we have some time to
spend together. I thought that you might want to practice a little CPR."
Chloe choked. Julia swallowed back a laugh. Trey, if he was surprised,
didn't show it. He chuckled appreciatively, and Chloe knew that when
they showed his hint of a roguish smile on television tonight, every
woman in El Paso between the ages of eight and eighty would fall madly
in love with him.
"He's good," Julia commented.
If she only knew how good.
The first six introductions were completed with a few minutes left
before noon. Pete thought it was a good idea if diey got Chloe's intro
out of the way, since, as a professional, she should be quick and
efficient. Then they'd only have five to do that afternoon.
Pulling back her shoulders, Chloe walked forward. Professional or not,
her knees were shaking with
both fear and excitement. She was going to be on TV!
Even though she had worked at KTEX since she graduated from college,
she had never been in front
of the camera.
But the second Pete called action she froze.
Chloe stared in horror at the dark, opalescent lens of the camera. She
squeaked when Trey reached out and touched her chin.
"Hello," he said kindly.
"Ah, hello," she managed, still staring into the lens.
Think, Chloe, think.
"Ah, hello," she repeated.
"Cut! What the hell is going on with you, Chloe?" Pete bleated.
Sense returned the minute the red recording light blinked off.
"See, I told you I was shy! I shouldn't be doing this. I'm not cut out
for this."
"Pull yourself together while we do the sweeping shots of the entire
group of women instead."
The wide-angle shots of all the Roses went quickly. When they were
done, Pete added, "Chloe, we'll do your intro after lunch with the
remaining girls." He turned to the group. "We'll start back at
twelve-thirty. Don't be late."
The Roses were herded out to the kitchen, where Julia's housekeeper
Zelda had laid out a spread of sandwiches, salads, and sodas. But no
one was hungry.
Trey came up to Chloe. "You said you'd take me to your house."
"Oh," she groaned, still embarrassed at having failed at something so
simple. Stage fright! Her!
"Of course."
She headed out the back door. Trey grabbed his suitcase and followed.
She didn't slow down, despite
her high heels, as she took the path she had taken a thousand times
before between Julia's mansion and her own house.
When they stepped through the archway that connected the side yards,
Trey tilted his head. "So this is where you live."
"Yes," she replied, trying not to feel defensive.
Her home was tiny compared to Julia's. But she loved it, and she was
proud even though no doubt it
was probably microscopic compared to anything this man would live in.
"I find it fascinating that you work with Julia and live next door to
her, too."
"Kate lives on the other side of Julia."
"Did you move here at the same time?"
"No. We all lived here as kids."
"You moved here with your family? Do you still live with them?" he
asked.
Her jaw felt tight. "It was my grandmother's house before she died a
year ago."
"I'm sorry."
She relaxed, but just a bit. "She left it to me."
"So you live alone."
"Actually, no. My father moved in six months ago."
He glanced around. "I guess you really are close to your father if he
lives with you."
"Absolutely." She looked around as well. "Though I wish I could spend
more time with him."
"What?"
"Nothing. Tell me about your friends and family."
That distracted him. Suddenly he was lost in some kind of thought that
she couldn't fathom.
"There's nothing to tell."
"Sure there is. Tell me about your friends from when you were a kid,
guys you went to school with."
He stared out into the yard, at the flowers and trees, without
responding. After a second, he walked around her on the narrow path,
not touching her, and headed for the house. She would have sworn
he said that he didn't have any friends.
"No way."
"What?" he asked.
"You don't have any friends?"
"I didn't say that."
"Sure you did."
"You're mistaken." He walked to the back porch like he owned the place,
pulled open the screen door that was at the top of two cement steps,
and gestured for her to enter. "The clock is ticking until we
have to return."
"Fine. If you don't want to talk about not having any friends, who am I
to push?"
He muttered an oath under his breath, and used his head to gesture for
her to get inside.
The minute they entered, she felt at once relaxed and nervous. This
house invoked such a mixed bag of feelings in her. Her home for so
long, and now she even owned it. But it still felt more like her
grandmother's house, however much Chloe had added her own touches.
Trey looked around. But it wasn't the tiles or the stenciling he
noticed.
"Who's this?" he asked with a smile. "Though I think I can guess." He
peered closer at the framed color photo. "That's Julia; that's Kate."
He straightened. "And that's you." He turned to look at her. "You
were cute."
"Cute?"
Uncomfortable, she strode past him, praying he couldn't hear the
pounding of her heart at the unfamiliar compliment. "I was never cute.
Come on, I'll show you around and fill you in about the rules."
"Rules?" he queried, setting the photo down. "You expect me to live by
rules?"
That's when it hit her.
"Instructions," she clarified, her mind suddenly racing.
If he wanted to pretend to be Trey Tanner, regular working stiff like
the rest of them, who was she not
to let him live like an average, ordinary, not filthy-rich guy?
"Helpful hints, is more like it," she added. "I'll just show you around
so you'll know where everything is when you need to clean the house."
Inspired, she gestured to a closet, opening the doors like she was
on a game show.
"Clean the house?" he asked incredulously. "You expect me to clean?"
She batted her eyes innocently. "I would have done it myself for the
other Catch, but since I have my hands full now with both producing and
being on the show, it seems like you can clean for yourself."
He made a noise that she pretended was agreement.
"Over here we have the dishwasher. Detergent is under the sink along
with anything else you will need. Windex, 409—"
"What is 409?"
"Tsk, tsk." She wagged her finger at him. "Don't tell me we are going
to have another coffee episode."
"My coffee was great."
She snorted. "Whatever. It's never too late to learn," she told him,
then turned and headed for the refrigerator. "I didn't know what a
bachelor would want. But I bought pork chops for the grill. Lettuce and
tomatoes for salads. Cold cuts for sandwiches. There's plenty of things
in here that you can whip
up for lunches and dinners."
"Whip up?"
"You know, cooking. Or is that something else you don't know about?
Good Lord, Trey, where were
you raised?"
She looked at him with devilish seriousness.
"I know about cooking," he grumbled, his humor evaporating.
At least he didn't out-and-out lie and say he knew how to cook. She
didn't believe for a second he had cooked himself a meal in his life.
But she only smiled.
"I knew we had to feed our bachelor, so I worked meals into the budget."
"But not a cleaning service."
"Oops, no." She giggled with relish and closed the refrigerator door as
the last piece to her plan fell into place. "The only other thing
you'll have to do is mow the lawn."
Genius. Pure genius.
"I am not going to mow the lawn."
"You don't know how, Trey?" she asked with a sweet pout. "Is that
beyond your talents?"
He glared. "It is not beyond my talents."
"Good!" She turned on her heel and marched out to the garage, where her
brand-new, wonderful
mower sat. "Ta da! What do you think?"
"I think you're intentionally trying to make me crazy."
"Would I do that?" She tried to look hurt.
"Yes."
She laughed out loud. "Let me explain how it works."
She told him about the self-propelling mechanism, the pull cord for
starting, and the ever-important clutch. "Do you want me to
demonstrate?"
"I can use a mower," he stated arrogantly.
She raised a brow, then shrugged. "Watch out for my flowers."
When he growled and looked like he might do something they would both
regret—kill her or kiss her—she swept out of the garage. "That's about
it. Now I'll show you where you'll sleep."
Which meant bedroom, and bed, and her body started another slow rise to
awareness.
He followed her back into the house. She saw the irritation in his
eyes, but good manners compelled
him to hold the doors for her as they returned inside. Every time their
bodies got close, she could feel
the heat of him, like sun breaking through a cold cloudy day.
At the back of the house, she bypassed her own bedroom, proceeding to
the guest room. But he
stopped at her door and looked inside.
"You can't go in there!"
He did anyway.
Crossing her arms over her sequined-and-beaded chest, she was put out
by the way he constantly did as he pleased. She tried not to be
affected by the sight of this tall, strong man in a tux who looked so
out of place in her tiny bedroom. One of these days she would have the
money to replace her twin bed and simple furniture that she'd had since
she moved to El Paso. In junior high, Julia had marched into the house
and told Chloe's grandmother that her granddaughter's room was an
embarrassment. She had
then proceeded to dole out instructions to Chloe and Kate as to how to
paint all that furniture.
The paint had remained, faded but well cared for. Her grandmother had
watched silently, only nodding her head in approval when they were done.
Now, decades later, with a sophisticated man taking it all in, she felt
vulnerable and very young.
"Amazing room," he said.
She wrinkled her nose in surprise. "You like it?"
He turned around and met her gaze. "I like you."
"You don't like me. And I certainly don't like you," she sputtered
indignantly.
But that didn't stop him from smiling confidently. "Did I tell you how
great you look?"
She snorted with effort because in reality a little thrill raced down
her spine at the compliment. "First
I'm cute, and now you say I look great? What's gotten into you?"
"I had a hell of a time concentrating on all the other women today
because I was thinking of you."
"You can't play favorites."
"I never said you were my favorite."
She punched him in the chest.
He laughed out loud. "Ouch."
"That didn't hurt."
"True."
Then he reached out. But she was too fast for him. She leaped away and
tried not to look like she was hurrying to safety. "We have to be back
on the set in fifteen minutes. Can't afford to dawdle when the clock is
ticking."
ELEVEN
Everyone took their places back on the set at Julia's house. Trey was
the last to return, and Chloe
would have sworn he looked at her with a strange grimace as if he
didn't get who she was. Or maybe
it was that he didn't quite get what had happened between them in her
bedroom. She suspected there weren't many women who walked out on him.
Good. One more example for him of what the real world was like. Though
this afternoon she planned
to give him a lesson he wouldn't soon forget.
"Let's get started, people," Pete called out. "We need to finish up and
pronto."
The next five Roses were taped doling out the sort of sugary
Trey-you-are-so-amazing sorts of lines
that made Chloe feel like she was going into a diabetic fit. Though she
knew just how to cure the sweetness, and ultimately succeed in her plan
to get kicked off the show.
"Chloe, you're up," Pete called out.
She still wore the sexy dress, and she was feeling a little feisty,
which helped matters. The minute the camera started to roll, she had
just the sort of out of body experience that she knew she'd need to get
through this— especially after she'd gone stock-still in front of the
camera that morning.
She strolled up to him, thinking feline—Persian, roaring lion, sultry
tiger—every step of the way. He stood there with his hands clasped in
front of him, his feet apart. He looked commanding and powerful, his
shoulders wide and strong beneath the perfect cut of his tuxedo.
"Hey there," she cooed with a sexy softness.
Suspicion narrowed his dark eyes faster than if he had bit into a
lemon. It pleased her that she had scratched his polished surface. With
effort, she held back a giddy smile.
She took the remaining steps, working her hips, and stopped barely a
hand's length in front of him.
Tilting her head back so she could look him in the eye, she thought
bold, sexy, bad girl thoughts, then reached out and walked her fingers
up his chest. "Oooo, you're such a big strong manly man."
Suspicion turned to wry disbelief—or maybe it was leery disbelief.
Either way, she could tell from his expression that he knew something
was up.
"I just love big strong manly men. Those types of guys I heard you
mention."
That really got his attention.
"What was it you said?" She thought she might have purred. "As I
recall, you said you're a Neanderthal who thinks sex is a game and your
only goal is to score." She pretended to shiver with pleasure, though
in truth the pleasure she felt had everything to do with the strange
choking sound he was making. "You did say that, didn't you, Trey?" she
asked with an innocent smile at the camera. "Oops, did I make you mad?"
She didn't wait for him to answer. She started to turn away, having
every intention of beating a sexy, albeit hasty, retreat. But he
startled her when he caught her arm. His grip was like steel, but
surprisingly gentle.
"I think you must have me mistaken with someone else. I certainly have
never thought of sex as a game. Sex is about two people sharing a
connection."
The awareness that sizzled through the room was tangible, and every one
of the Roses swooned.
She was supposed to have left him standing there speechless,
dumbfounded. Instead he had regained
the upper hand in a matter of seconds. Damn, damn, damn.
She turned her back on the camera and leaned close. "You just made that
up," she hissed. "You don't believe it."
He gave her an aggravatingly knowing smile.
Things weren't going as she planned.
Okay. She rolled her shoulders. Think. Regroup.
"Fine, but I do know what you said," she said for the audience to hear.
"Think back," she persisted.
"Are you sure you never said something like that? About men and women,
and perceptions? Perhaps when you were in the 'interviewing' process?"
She saw the minute he remembered what she was talking about. The day
when they were questioning potential candidates for
The Catch
.
This time he leaned close so no one could hear, his jaw muscles
starting to tick. "I was talking about
what you thought I must think."
The camera might not have picked up the actual words, but it surely
made out his defensive stance—like a guilty man who had been caught,
and wasn't happy about it.
Relief!
"A technicality," she whispered with a laugh. But the truth was, she
felt anything but triumphant. At the look on his face, all she felt was
guilty and mean.
She steeled herself against her conscience. The fact was, he started
this. She shouldn't feel guilty. She was adding a little spice to the
show and she was getting herself the boot in the process. It was
perfect.
She forced a carefree laugh for the camera, then tugged her arm away
and headed off the set, but not before she finally got herself back in
order and remembered to slap him on the butt and wink.
If he could have, she was sure he would have murdered her right then
and there.
Perfect! She had just regained the upper hand.
Yep, she practically gloated. It was just a matter of time before she
was sitting on the sidelines,
producing full-time, with Trey mad as Hades and leaving her the hell
alone.
Kate was truly shocked. Julia was trying hard not to laugh out loud.
"Did he really say that?" Julia wanted to know.
"He did," Chloe said with a superior shake of her head. "Or sort of,"
she amended.
"Sort of? Chloe, what did he say?"
"That. But he was just saying what he thought I thought about the sort
of man he was. Or is. He is."
She cringed. "But he did say it. Just for different reasons, perhaps,
than I let on."
"And you think that's going to get you kicked off?"
"Wouldn't you kick me off if you were in his shoes?"
"No question."
Julia laughed, Kate shook her head, and Chloe was feeling relieved. But
her relief was short-lived.
"What do you mean, you're offering me a rose?" she yelped an hour later
when he called her name as
the camera taped the first rose ceremony.
With the camera light glowing green, he pruned the list down to eight.
She was the eighth and final Rose he called. Some of the girls preened
and gushed. Others sat quietly, clearly thankful to still be in
contention. While others, including sweet Janice, sat on the sofa,
holding back tears of disappointment that they hadn't been chosen.
Chloe, on the other hand, was furious. Pete and his cameraman caught it
all.
"You can't offer me a rose," Chloe stated. "You're supposed to cut me.
I was horrible, mean, a total witch!"
It was Trey who turned to the director with barely held patience, and
called, "Cut."
"Great, cut the camera, cut four other women, but you won't cut me!
Well, too bad, I don't accept
your rose."
The Roses and the stagehands gasped.
"You can't not accept," he said through gritted teeth.
"Says who?"
"Says me."
"And that matters why?"
"Because I'm the boss!"
He visibly tried to rein in control. This was more of the man that she
expected him to be. This was a
man she could hate and ignore. Not the fun, playful guy from earlier.
Not the guy who actually looked
a little hurt by what she had falsely accused him of.
"No, you are not the boss," she stated. "You're the co-boss. And I say
a Rose can say no. It will be
great. Viewers will love it. Isn't that right, Julia?"
The owner of KTEX TV grimaced. "Actually, I think he's right. We can't
make our bachelor look any more unappealing than he already looks."
"Unappealing?" Trey demanded.
"Sorry," Julia responded without looking the least bit contrite. "I'm
not sure where you learned to woo a woman, but it might very well have
been in Neanderthal 101. That said, we don't need you looking any
worse, since it's too late for us to find someone else." She turned to
Chloe. "Accept the damn rose and let's get this done. We only have an
hour until airtime, and we still have to edit the footage. Tick, tick,
tick, everyone."
Chloe glared, but she knew Julia was right. She hadn't thought about
the ramifications of making their bachelor look so pathetic that a Rose
would cut him.
Their Catch needed to look like a rugged alpha male. She might not like
that, really, she told herself firmly, but tons of women loved that
kind of guy. And while they would scream at the screen and throw verbal
tomatoes at him, they would swoon just a little since they didn't have
to deal with him in real life. For this show to succeed, first thing
tomorrow morning, every secretary and soccer mom in the city
limits needed to be talking about the Catch over coffee.
She just had to get him to cut her. Which led her to Plan B.
At the end of the next episode, he would cut the field down from eight
to six. She had every intention of being one of the two he sent packing.

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