The Cover Model (2 page)

She ignored the literal and blatant double innuendo. "There has to be. I've listened to the sounds of heavy coitus in progress for a good fifteen minutes. The average man lasts approximately four or five minutes even at a leisurely pace."

"Baby, I'm not an average man." The low baritone timbre flowed over her like hot chocolate syrup over an ice cream sundae. Gone was the irritation, only to be replaced with seductive smoothness. His gaze slowly lowered over her body before returning to her face.

For the first time, she really looked at the male specimen before her. Short black hair topped his head, a good foot above hers. Piercing deep blue eyes the color of a stormy ocean sparked lazily with amusement and hinted at something more. Afraid to linger, she raked over him with an observant gaze. A strong jaw shouted stubbornness while the dimple in his chin softened the severe angles. Long fingers folded under his crossed arms. Collarbones blended shoulders into chest, a rolling area of muscle and smooth, tanned skin. Darker nipples topped prominent pecs. Six pack abs showed little body fat, excellent conditioning, and a familiarity with exercise. Dark hairs lined from his belly button downward, disappearing beneath the white terry cloth towel, which tented intriguingly. Her face heated.

"No matter." She waved her hand to dismiss the awkward topic at hand.

"How do you know it's been fifteen minutes?" He arched an eyebrow at her.

Her face scrunched in agitation. "Weren't you paying attention? I'm in the next room, just on the other side of this wall." She pointed with her right hand. "Which is thin enough to allow the noise you're making to travel through to my side. Not to mention the headboard banging against the same wall at the level of my head."
Dumb as a box of drill bits. All they knew was screwing.
She blinked at her own bad pun and gathered up steam for another lecture.

He smirked in obvious amusement.

Another flare of anger brewed over the boiling cauldron. "What's so funny?"

"You're a voyeur." The words slipped out of his mouth soft and smooth, like fine wine after dinner.

Voyeur? Me?
She half-choked and stuttered, trying to clear the blockage of her own saliva. "What?" Her voice cracked on a squeak. Sucking in air, she tried again. "Why do you think that?"

"I don't know. Listening to others have sex and timing the act…" He shrugged.

"What? I'm not a voyeur!"

A door creaked to her left. Glancing over, she found an older bald-headed man peering out the door and staring straight at her. Her face burned like a lit match.

"What else would you call it?" A slow wicked grin appeared on the troublemaker's face, full of challenge and self-confidence. Talk about arrogance in spades. His gaze locked with hers, twinkling with sensual humor. His tightened jaw told her he stubbornly refused to give ground on a topic he appeared an expert in.

"I am not!"

"You're the one standing here confessing to eavesdropping through the wall on my sexual activities."

Ohhhhh. Dang horny toad!
She threw up her arms in frustration. "Here's a novel idea. Ejaculate already and curl up with Pocahontas for a nice long nap. Can you manage that?"

The corners of his mouth twitched. "In due time."

Argh!
Spinning on her heel, she stormed back to her room and slammed the door shut behind her.

Chapter 2

Mitch shook his head at the back of the retreating woman, an amused smile on his face. He hadn't seen a woman dressed in a nightgown from neck to ankles since the age of five when his family spent Christmas Eve with relatives. Full of excitement over the arrival of Santa Claus, the kids woke the adults early, tugging them all to the living room still dressed in their night clothes. Not since his elderly grandmother had a woman worn such a severe garment in his viewing.

The woman's pinkened cheeks from embarrassment and anger flashed into his mind along with the flares of outrage and appreciation in her hazel eyes. Her mortification when the other guest caught her defending the voyeur label. He could have argued that particular topic for a while longer, digging through her top outermost layers to the deep core, discovering hidden feminine secrets she probably never put to words in her life.

He glimpsed something in her rapt appraisal of him that told an intriguing story. With years of practice with the opposite sex, he felt confident in his judge of character and observation skills of the fairer sex. Unless he completely missed his guess, passion burned deep inside her frigid layers despite her outward appearances.

Fiery. The word fit her well. Daring to pound on his door and demand he abandon his pleasures with a passionate woman in order to allow for some quiet time. Not many would have been so bold.

She didn't mention a man or wear a wedding ring that he noticed. Combine that with the flush on her cheeks and crack in her voice when he called her a voyeur and the facts pointed toward a wallflower.

Not necessarily the turn-off most thought. Wallflowers held their own appeal. While lacking the flashiness and flirtatiousness of the more experienced lovers, they provided their own twist to a romantic liaison.

Perhaps no man bothered to coax out the hidden desires thus far. If one took the time to do so, he would cherish her and thank his lucky stars to have found a spirited woman that could set his bed sheets on fire. With a bit of effort, such a woman could blossom from bud to vibrant rose.

Until her loose tongue started firing insults his direction.

A chuckle rose from his chest as he recalled her petty argument and proper terminology. Others would call him a bastard along with a few other choice four letter words for disturbing their sleep. This one flung out facts and reasons along with some mild derision. In all his years, he couldn't recall being called a stud muffin in scorn.

Odd but interesting.

If he hadn't been already aroused, jousting with her in the silly argument would have sparked definite responses in his highly revved libido. Too bad his stay would only last a few more days. Otherwise, he might pursue Miss Dignity and discover what lay hidden beneath that white cotton gown.

"Coming back to bed?" Tasha cooed to him from across the room.

With a final glance toward the woman's closed door, he stepped back and shut his own, taking a moment to reset the chain and lock. Spinning around, he stared at the glorious beauty of his present lover. Bountiful breasts tipped with raspberry nipples begged him to taste. Long, lean legs added feminine curves along with a perky rear that fit just right in his grasp. As he watched, Tasha parted her legs, using one finger to trace lightly over her promised land, opening the pink folds in eager invitation.

"I need you."

Reaching down, he yanked off the towel, his engorged cock bouncing with the movement. Stalking to the bed, he enveloped her in his arms, sealing his mouth over hers.

Who needed a cute, little, shy kitten when he had a sexy tigress ready and waiting in his bed?

Chapter 3

Just before eight am, Fancy stepped off the elevator on her way through the lobby to a smaller conference room on the opposite side of the hotel. Two steps found her staring at a mass of humanity dominated by women. Some stood in lines waiting to enter the main auditorium, others mingled around tables and booths, stationed shoulder to shoulder around the edges of the front entrance area.

'Romance Book Convention', a large banner displayed over the open double doors announced.

Romance books?
She blinked and stared transfixed at the controlled chaos before her. A table to her left held tall stacks of paperback books with cardboard boxes stashed underneath. The next vendor proudly displayed books for sale, neatly organized in a metal turn-a-round. Pairs and groupings of women chatted away, speaking with the sales people, conversing with friends, all laughing and smiling in obvious happiness.

Shaking her head, Fancy walked into the busy area, intent upon making her way through as quickly as possible in order to arrive at her destination with plenty of time to spare. Her laptop, tucked away in a carry bag, contained her PowerPoint presentation representing hours of work on her part and a year's worth of research on behalf of the laboratory she worked for. All she needed to do was get the room set up, plug in the computer to the overhead, and do a quick trial run. Afterward, she would have a few minutes to battle jitters as the other meeting attendees trickled in, a few other presenters would take their turn, then she would be on.

"Oh, my. Would you look at this?"

Catching the fascinated tone, Fancy automatically searched for what caught the short brunette's attention. The woman held a brightly colored paperback in her hands, greedily eyeing the cover. Inching closer, she peered over the stranger's shoulder.

The lady glanced at her before holding the book out for better appraisal. "Isn't he eye candy extraordinaire?"

Blinking in recognition, Fancy's mouth dropped open. Sure enough, the man on the cover looked exactly like her noisy next door neighbor with the high sex drive. No wonder, with a body like that and scores of women drooling over a computer-generated and altered picture of him. His overblown ego and unflappable self-confidence became much more understandable with the realization he was a male model.

"I'll buy any book he's on," the women whispered in awe, still staring at the front cover.

"He's on many?" Fancy couldn't help but ask, curiosity demanding an answer. The man, stripped to the waist, held a pretty petite blonde's hands over her head as he pinned her against the wall, their gazes locked on one another. Her gown dipped low, revealing the tops of well-endowed breasts. What caught her attention the most was the man's rippling muscles on his back, the ripped arms, and the smoldering look that made her stomach flip over with exquisite slowness. Overall, the picture exuded sexual desire and outright need, catching the attention of passers-by and poking her dormant libido into wakefulness.

"Oh, yeah. Mitch is like one of the most popular male cover models out there."

Make that a famous male model.
Just what she needed, another pompous full-of-himself man to contend with.

"Mitch?"

"Mitch Jameson. He's absolutely gorgeous," the woman prattled on, lavishing praise on the man. "Rumor has it he's at the convention and will make an appearance. I hope so! To see the guy strip down and run my hands over his body…"

Fancy rolled her eyes. So much for getting any rest as long as horny and lustful women overran the hotel and a hunky cover man stayed next door. She might as well have rented a room at a sex convention.

With a sigh, she turned away, unable to vanquish the image from her mind. Shaking her head, she walked through the crowd, dodging excited ladies along the way.

In all honesty, she had never really picked up the addiction to romance novels, leaning more toward non-fiction and biographies. The adult fairy tales seemed too redundant, too focused on sex. Additionally, her busy life pushed lighthearted reading down the priority pole, low enough that she rarely picked up even a magazine since she could spend the same time studying and learning, helping advance herself in her chosen career. She had lofty goals for her life, starting with climbing the ladder at her present laboratory, winning several awards, with the Nobel Prize as the ultimate dream. No one accomplished such without going the extra mile and devoting their free time to further education.

"Miss? Oh, Miss?"

Pausing, she glanced to a nearby table.

"Would you like to try a penis pacifier?"

Fancy's mouth fell open as her gaze followed the woman's hands to the small pacifiers in a rainbow of colors spread out on a sheet of white paper. A couple of seconds passed before she connected the items to the women's words. Sure enough, the plastic pacifiers had a penis-shaped sucker on the end, each about three inches long and as round as a quarter. Surprisingly, they were quite detailed, resembling a small, erect, circumcised penis.

How in the world?
On second thought, she didn't really want to know.

"Ummm… no. No thanks." The words squeaked out as she stared in stunned amazement at the blatantly suggestive objects. Even as she watched, a middle-aged redhead handed over cash and picked out a blue one. Plucking it off the display table, she removed the plastic cover and stuck it in her mouth.

Oh, good grief. I
am
at a sex convention.

Her face burned immediately. Scooting around a group of visitors, she set a rapid pace down the hall, heading to the conference room and the comfortable world of human genetics.

* * * *

Rubbing her tired eyes, Fancy ambled down the long corridor, intent on simply heading back to her room, changing clothes, and sitting around the pool for an hour or two so her mind could just vegetate after too many meetings and hours of presentations.

She had intended to start the morning off listening to a few presenters, then finally get through hers. The lunch break had been to follow immediately after, giving her ample opportunity to drop her items off in her room, change clothes, find some food, then visit the spa for some rest and relaxation.

That plan flew out the window when she discovered, much to her embarrassment and chagrin, the bald-headed man, who had opened his door and stared at her as she argued over the voyeur label, happened to be chairing this particular get-together. He directed several scowls and frowns in her direction throughout the day, as if weighing her professionalism compared to the potential kinky peeping tom. She read the censure in his facial expression, sat up straight in her chair, and listened to every last word for the entire eight hours for fear he would notice her absence and chalk it up to distasteful and scandalous reasons. A definite no-no in the Good Old Boy system of cutting edge genetic research. While more women entered the profession, the vast majority were men. Some of those held antiquated views on women in the workplace, particularly
their
workplace. She would know. She had fought against the system her entire career.