Bedding Mr. Birdsong

by Deborah Camp

  “Oh!” Zaney felt herself blush when Shondra shook his hand. “I’m sorry! Matt, this is Shondra Nelson. She’s one of the other dressers.”

  “There are more dressers than you?”

  “Zaney is the head dresser. Our boss lady,” Shondra said, smiling. “I’m one of her assistants.”

  “Boss lady?” Matthew’s brows lifted and he gave her an arched look. “Impressive.”

  “Look who showed up,” Foster said, breaking in and hanging a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Who made this suit, darling? Zegna?”

  “You have a good eye. You’re right.”

  “Very nice.” Foster ran his hand down the coat sleeve. “And you wear it soooo well.”

  “Thank you. I enjoyed seeing your work this evening. Your clothes complement a woman’s body beautifully.”

  “Oh!” Foster batted his eyelashes. “Aren’t you sweet? Zaney, let’s be sure to put him on our guest list for Fashion Week. Are you joining us for drinks? We’re heading to the Rose Bar here in the hotel.”

  He looked at Zaney. “Are we?”

  “If you want to, yes.” A thrill raced through her. Silly. It wasn’t a date or anything. But it was heady stuff being singled out by such a handsome man. Several women were ogling and whispering about him. Wait . . She focused more keenly on the whispering models. OMG. They’d probably slept with him.

  “Zaney?”

  She blinked up at Matthew’s frown and realized her mouth was hanging open. “Uh. Right. Did you say something?”

  “Have you eaten dinner? I don’t want to topple any plans you’ve made.”

  “I don’t have any plans. We’ll go to the Rose Bar.” Her stomach grumbled, but she ignored it. She was too keyed up to eat. “Let me finish up here.”

  “No rush. I’ll just stand back and watch, if you don’t mind.”

  “I thought that was you,” Beverly said, bumping her hip against Matthew’s. “You remember me? You picked me up one night at the Savage and we spent a month together one weekend?” Her laugh was low and dirty.

  “I remember.” Matt’s smile was cool. “Bev, right?”

  “That’s right!” She widened her dark eyes at him. “Can you recall this girl’s name? You’ve nailed her, too.” Beverly hooked arms with Sydney, who was smiling like a cat who had swallowed a canary.

  Zaney looked from one girl to the other, then at Matthew. He didn’t seem to enjoy this game of “Guess That Lay!” Although, he wasn’t mortified. In fact, he handled it better than Zaney. She would have gladly retreated to the shadows, but Matthew was coolly unflappable, giving the women an indulgent smile.

  “Sydney,” he said, smooth as silk. “Tall and talented Sydney.”

  Sydney tapped his pocket square. “Did you lose my number, Mr. Birdsong? I looked for that text you said you’d send about going out again? Never showed up.”

  “Sorry. I got busy with work.” He shrugged. “It happens.”

  Zaney couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disturbed by his adept handling of this awkward situation. Clearing her throat, she flagged his attention. “We’re heading to the Rose Bar. What about you two?”

  “We’ll be there,” Beverly assured her, giving Matthew another smirk. “I have my date with me. A shipping magnate’s son from Norway. He’s tall and blond, too. Blonder, even.”

  “And richer, I’m sure,” Matthew rejoined.

  “You bet, babe.” Beverly winked at him. “And Syd is with Tim Scarborough, the Box Tops band’s drummer.”

  “Oh, yeah? They’re good,” Matt said, approvingly.

  And like that, the tension evaporated and they chatted a bit about the Box Tops before moving on, promising to meet up again at the Rose Bar. Zaney ran the back of her hand across her forehead in dramatic fashion.

  “Whew! For a minute there, I thought we might have a cat fight. Or maybe a cat and dog fight. You never know with high-strung models.” She propped her hands on her hips. “How in the world can you remember all their names? Or are Beverly and Sydney especially memorable?”

  He touched a finger to his temple. “I’m in advertising and public relations. It’s a skill one must perfect.”

  She blew out a whistle. “I bet if I could peek into your mind, it would look like one of those old Rolodex things.”

  His gaze swept over her apron and black outfit. “Are you . . . ready? Or are you still working?”

  “I’m almost ready.” She indicated a folding chair. “Have a seat or whatever. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” Snatching up her big, leather tote, she made her way to the back of the room and ducked behind a rack of clothing. Hastily, she changed out of her work clothes and into the yellow sparkly mini dress she’d stuffed into the tote. Adding a pair of dangly earrings and slipping her feet into gold heels, she fluffed out her hair and applied some lip gloss and a touch more mascara.

  Matthew had his back to her when she approached him. Of all people, he was talking with Gary, who spotted her first and gave her a nod. Matthew glanced over his shoulder, froze, and pivoted slowly to face her.

  “My, my. That’s what I call a change of clothes.”

  She glanced down at the sequined dress. “I knew I’d go out afterward. Always do. So, I come prepared.”

  “You surely do.”

  “See you around,” Gary said, essaying a two-finger salute.

  “Are you going to the Rose Bar?” Zaney asked.

  “No. That’s not a scene I’m all that interested in.” Gary flashed his evil, seductive grin. “I have other plans. Later, Zaney! See ya, man.”

  Watching his cocky stride, Zaney shook her head as a vision of West Side Story flashed through her head. “He’s our best tailor.”

  “Tailor? Him?” Matthew stared in the direction Gary had gone. “I thought he was a model.”

  “Yeah, almost everyone does. But, no. He’s a demon behind a sewing machine. He’s probably meeting up with Bruno, one of our top cosmetics guys. He and Gary make it their business to get as many free drinks as possible from their league of admirers.” She realized that he was staring at her like a cat stares at a goldfish. “You really like this outfit, huh? It’s a Mendoza original from three seasons ago.”

  “What?” He blinked as if coming out of a daze. “Oh, right. Ummm. I hope I didn’t embarrass you.”

  “When?”

  “With Sydney and Bev.” He gestured haphazardly around the nearly empty area. “And others.”

  “Others? I missed the others.”

  “Right. Well, you were changing clothes.”

  She slipped her hand in the crook of his arm and guided him toward the door that led to the bank of elevators. “Why would I be embarrassed? I didn’t slip them the old sausage link and never call or text them afterward.”

  He chuckled, but didn’t sound that amused. “It wasn’t exactly like that.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, it sounded exactly like that.” She pressed the ‘down’ arrow on the elevator panel. “Do you dance?”

  “Yes. Do you?”

  She smiled as the elevator doors slid open. “That’s for you to find out.”

  Chapter 6

  Some Friendly Advice

  The girl could dance.

  Standing at the edge of the dance floor, Matthew had watched as Zaney was passed around like a collection plate at a tent revival. It seemed that everyone – men and women alike – wanted to shimmy with her or hold her close for a slow one. The minute he’d walked into the bar with her, some short dude dressed in tight black jeans and a purple pullover had grabbed her hands and pulled her to where couples gyrated to the music of a live band.

  After a few minutes, Matthew gave up and asked a pretty blond to dance with him. Turned out he knew her – or had known her once. Maybe twice. He wasn’t sure. After a few moments, he did recall her name. She pouted a little as they took a turn, but she warmed up after he teased her and turned up his charm quotient. The next woman he asked to dance was, thankfully, not someone he’d met before. She was a r
ealtor and she slipped her business card into his jacket pocket after the dance.

  By the time he’d finally corralled Zaney, several other business cards lined his jacket pocket. The song hadn’t been a ballad, so he didn’t get the opportunity to mold Zaney’s body against his. Instead, he’d watched, mesmerized, as she’d danced in front of him, eyes closed, a dreamy expression on her charming face, and her body undulating in a way that had his dick throbbing in time with the music.

  She’d worked up a sweat and curls of her hair had stuck damply to her forehead and temples. When she’d swayed, a strand of hair had clung to the corner of her mouth and Matthew had reached out and freed it. She’d opened her eyes to slits and had given him a slow, sexy smile that had sent a rush of hot lust through him. In that moment, under the strobe of rose/gold lighting that shimmered over her red hair and gilded her shoulders, he’d wanted her with every beat of his heart. The song had ended and she had been claimed by a black guy who was built like a football lineman. She’d squealed out his name and flung her arms around his thick neck as the band had strummed the first bars of a slow one. Natch.

  Now, seated beside her in the back of a taxi, his gaze lingered on her crossed legs before lifting to watch the lights from the street stream over her profile. He liked the way her nose tipped up ever so slightly. And her lips – so plush and pink. That made him think of other lips and that made his cock swell even more. He’d been partly turned on since they’d arrived at the bar and now it was more than partly.

  “You were breathtaking tonight on the dance floor,” he said, reaching over to lace his fingers with hers. She gave a little start, looked at their clasped hands, and then lifted her questioning gaze to him. “You’re a popular girl, Zaney. I thought I’d never get a chance to dance with you.”

  She smiled and gave his hand a little squeeze before she turned her face away from him to stare out the window. “I knew practically everyone there. They were mostly in the industry. Fashion folk.”

  He swept his thumb across the back of her hand. Was she turned on at all? He couldn’t decipher her feelings and it bugged the hell out of him. He wanted her to want him. Urgently. Like he wanted her. “What are you thinking about?”

  Her smile took on a mysterious tinge. “You really don’t want to know.”

  He angled closer and whispered against the back of her ear. “I really do.”

  She lifted her shoulder, bumping his chin. She glanced at the driver, then whispered, “Tell you later.”

  Oh. He settled back, liking the sound of that. Another two blocks and the cab pulled to the curb in front of their building. He paid the fare and followed Zaney into the foyer. She had her key out and unlocked the door.

  “Where’s Frito?” he asked, noticing the absence of barking.

  “He’s in his bed in the bathroom with the door closed.” She stepped inside and held the door open. “Can you hear him now?”

  He listened and heard a faint growling. “Ah, yes.”

  She motioned for him to come inside. He did and shut the door behind him. “I wasn’t the only popular one tonight,” she said, switching on a small lamp and tossing her purse onto the couch. “You made some new friends.”

  He caught her hands and brought one up to his lips, kissing her wrist where a pulse fluttered. He didn’t want to talk about any female except her. “I would have rather danced all night with you.”

  She leaned back against the wall, her green eyes going soft and mossy. “Do you want to get me into bed, Matthew Birdsong?”

  “Into bed, on the couch, on the floor, against this wall is fine.” He dipped his head and touched his lips to hers. Barely. Her breath mingled with his and her brow knitted as if she didn’t know what to make of him. He waited a few seconds, drawing out the moments before he would know her taste, explore the landscape of her lips and tongue. Then he kissed her, his mouth molding to hers as he pressed her hands against the wall on either side of her head. His tongue painted the seam of her lips before she gave a little sigh and allowed him entrance.

  She tasted like sweet ambrosia and he groaned as his cock reacted, pushing hard against his fly. He widened his stance and rocked his midsection against her, letting her feel his arousal as he swirled his tongue around hers and lapped her up. Her fingers tightened around his and she hummed with pleasure. When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, he was a little breathless and a lot turned on. Her cheeks were flushed and her long lashes trembled against them.

  “Zaney.” He nestled his face in the crook of her neck. “You’re delicious. Are you wet for me, baby?” He let go of one of her hands, sliding his palm down her delectable curves to the hem of her dress. “Are you?” He curled his fingers under the material and lifted it until his knuckles made contact with silky lace. Damp. Very damp. “Oh, fuck, baby.”

  “That’s what you want? To fuck me?”

  For some reason, hearing her put it like that pinched his heart and rattled him for an instant. Didn’t sound right coming from her. “To make you come,” he whispered, attempting to explain that he wanted to pleasure her even more than he wanted the pleasure of her. “To make this a night neither of us will forget.”

  “Sounds nice, but not for us.”

  “Not . . . for us?” He inched his head back to stare into her eyes. Shit. She wasn’t teasing. He looked down a few inches. “Your nipples say otherwise.” He brushed her thigh with his exploring fingers. “Your body is calling you out, sweetheart.”

  She lifted the hand on his shoulder and traced a line from the corner of his eye to the corner of his mouth. “We wouldn’t do well as anything other than friends.”

  Oh, fuck. Back to the friend proposition again. “Like I said. I don’t have women friends. Unless you’re talking about friends with benefits?”

  She tapped his chin with her forefinger. “Listen. I’m serious, Matt. You see, I wouldn’t want to just have sex with you. That’s not how it works with me. I’d want more – and the thing is, so would you. You like your lifestyle, right? You enjoy bedding one beauty after another. No strings. No promises. No expectations. No attachments of any kind. I understand that, but once you plunge inside of me . . . once you bury yourself in me and feel me clutch you, glove you, tighten around you because I never want to let you go? Once you experience that? Then you’d be done for, Mr. Birdsong.”

  He hung on her every syllable, a slave to her words and the feelings they unleashed inside him. This woman was going to make him come in his trousers, for Christ sake. He needed to get those panties of hers off and release his aching cock.

  “I’ll be inside your head like a tune you can’t stop hearing,” she whispered, her breath tapping his face as she positioned the tip of her finger against his temple like a drill. “I’ll get under your skin and burn. You’ll dream of me, jack off thinking about me, fantasize about me when you’re at work. You’ll screw other women, but you’ll only want me. You’ll crave me, Matthew. Believe me, it will be sweet, sweet misery. I wouldn’t want to put you through that.”

  He shook his head a little, trying to follow her train of thought. Was she being serious or a cock tease? Or both?

  “If I did the walk of shame for you, Matthew Birdsong, I would do so with my head held high and with a ‘fuck you’ strut because I would be absolutely certain that you wouldn’t be able to forget me, that you would text me and call me.” She laughed, a sexy, breathy sound. “You’d bug the hell out of me, wanting to see me again, wanting inside me again. And you’d hate yourself because that is not the life you want, is it? You don’t want to be hung up on one woman ever again. You can’t trust them, right?”

  He nodded.

  “So, yeah. It’s better if we keep it friendly. I don’t want to screw with your head and heart or have you screw with mine. You have a sweet thing going for you here and you want to keep it that way. I get it.” She shook free of his other hand and rested her palms against his chest where his heart had settled in to a steady, plodding rhythm.
/>
  “You’re fucking with me, Zaney,” he accused, feeling as if he’d just been kicked in the balls when he wasn’t looking.

  “No, I’m not.” She pushed out her lower lip. “I’m telling you who I am. I’m low maintenance in almost every other part of my life, but when it comes to my man? I’m high maintenance. I expect – a lot.” She carefully pronounced the last two words, mesmerizing him with the play of her tongue. “More than you can give or would even be capable of giving because of your trust issue with women.” She gave him a little nudge, separating their bodies. “So, while I’m intrigued by the size of that bulge behind your fly and I’d love to get to know it and you more intimately, this wouldn’t work for us, Matthew.” She reached behind her and opened the door as she extended a cool smile. “So, let’s be friends.”

  What a performance. Her eyes didn’t give her away and her smile was just right – a little chilly, but still kind. Yeah. She’d been rehearsing this. Okay. He’d play along. He sure wasn’t going to beg.

  “Right.” He jerked at his jacket, then at his sleeves. “Good call, Zaney. I’m glad one of us is sober enough to rein in our primal urges.”

  She lowered her brows in a slight frown. “I didn’t accuse you of being drunk.”

  “No, you didn’t.” He winked at her. “But I do have a buzz on and I was thinking with the wrong head.” He held out his hand. “Friends, then?”

  She hesitated only a second before slipping her hand into his. “Friends.”

  “Great. Hey, thanks again for the interesting evening.” He patted his jacket pocket and pulled out a card or two before pushing them back inside. “I met some new beauties tonight and that’s always a good thing.” He stepped out into the foyer. “See you later.”

  “Later.”

  She didn’t seem as cocksure of herself now as she slowly closed the door. Good! Matt strode across the hall, unlocked his door, and stepped inside. He disarmed the beeping security system and flung his keys onto the sofa table on his way to the bedroom. Every long stride escalated his irritation.