Fantasy Man

by Tuesday Morrigan

  "Ms. Feathermoore?"

  With a start, she realized she was staring. “Sophia. Please call me Sophia,” she said. “No, I haven't tried it on."

  The sound of his footsteps seemed unnaturally loud as he took several steps to her. “I know I'm asking for a lot, Sophia, but could you please just give me and the costume a chance?"

  Her fingers tightened on the doorknob. When he asked like that, how could she say no? She nodded her head in agreement. “I'll be right back.” She closed the door and returned to the costume.

  She stared down at the assortment of pieces critically. The dress was fashioned from a black-and-white floral-patterned fabric. Big, puffy, elbow-length sleeves and multiple layers of black tulle gave it shape. Combined with its wide black satin border and lace inserts, the dress was more ornate than Sophia was used to. Nervous excitement filled her as she looked down at it.

  For some reason, Sophia suddenly found herself excited about the costume.

  She quickly stripped out of her conservatively cut suit and placed it on her desk beside the costume pieces. Dressed in only her black bra and panties, she lifted the floral costume and stepped into it. Sophia gripped the open pieces and pulled. For a moment, she feared the dress would not move over her hips, and then after a slight shimmy, it brushed over her ample hips. With a sigh of relief, Sophia shoved her arms into the dress and reached behind to grab the zipper. She was only able to move it halfway up her back.

  "Well, I'm decent,” she muttered as she lifted her hair and artfully arranged it to cover the exposed skin on her back. Next came the wide black satin strip. Realizing it could only be one thing, Sophia tied it around her waist and into a bow.

  Sophia grabbed her purse and searched it until she found her compact. She would have preferred a full-length mirror, but the small one would have to do. With a flick of her wrist, she snapped it open and then placed it on top of her computer screen. After some maneuvering, she was able to get a decent glimpse of herself.

  The sight made her sigh. She looked like a sexed-up maid. The costume was all wrong.

  On another woman it might have been seductive, but she just felt foolish.

  Still, she'd promised to try it on. Once he saw her in the costume, Ansley would have no choice but to agree that the outfit wouldn't do.

  She took a step out of the room and softly closed her office door behind her. The stone floor was cold beneath her feet. Her stocking-clad feet provided little friction against the intricately designed stone floor. She slipped for a moment. Her fingers clutched the doorknob tightly as she found her footing. Eyes closed, Sophia took in a deep breath and tried to relax. After a few moments, she felt comfortable enough to stride forward.

  Halfway through the hall, in the middle of the barely lit corridor, she called for him. “Mr. Westwick. Ansley?"

  "Yes, Sophia.” The brightening of the atmosphere followed the deep, exciting presence of his voice. He'd turned the dial on the hallway light. And ruined all hope of hiding in the shadows.

  Nervous energy seemed to hum and crackle between them as she stood in the hall, waiting for his reaction. After several seconds of silence, Sophia lifted her head to look at him.

  Ansley's eyes shined brightly with barely leashed heat. The fire was so striking she gasped softly in shock. At the sound of her surprise, he blinked and seemed to collect himself. “I see the costume fits."

  She nodded her head in agreement. “Yes."

  His gaze flashed over her body, heating her limbs with his visual caress. “It looks like it was made for you."

  Anxiousness pumped through her blood. She fingered the ridiculously short skirt as she spoke. “I'm surprised it actually fits."

  "I sized you up the first time I saw you."

  "Oh."

  Short, brittle silence cloaked the hall.

  He cocked his head to the side and considered her critically. Heat filled her face as his expression altered. One broad hand lifted to cradle his chin. “The costume is not quite right,” he murmured in consideration.

  Ansley grinned at her as the fingers on one hand caressed his hard jaw. “You know what you're missing?” he asked as his gaze raked over her barely clad form. Emotion shined in his deep eyes as he looked into her face.

  She tilted her head to one side and looked over the man before her. There was way too much amusement on Ansley's face. It didn't bode well for her. “What?” she asked cautiously.

  "Pumps. You're missing a pair of, what do they call them?” He snapped his fingers. “Fuck-me pumps."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Three

  Full Disclosure

  It was Thursday, only one day passed since she last saw Ansley, but it seemed much longer. Maybe because she hadn't been able to think about anything but him and all the emotions he made her feel.

  "Good evening, Ms. Feathermoore."

  Just as they had the day before, they were meeting at her gallery after hours. Only this time, the hour was later, the night dark as ebony. She hadn't bothered to lock the door and so he strode in, long, muscular body moving with the kind of prowess that made her think of a predator on the hunt.

  If only she was his prey...

  Slowly, Sophia lifted her gaze to meet Ansley's. Fantasy Man. The first time she heard his voice she'd pictured him as a large, broad-shouldered man. Ansley's deep, gruff voice simply conjured up the image of a tall, strong man. He lived up to the impression.

  Sophia hadn't ventured far enough into dreamland to envision his face. She had known from his voice that he would be compelling, but she hadn't ventured deep enough into her reveries to expect him to be handsome.

  She now knew why.

  Looking up at him, seeing the strength and masculine beauty in his hard features, she felt every dream he had starred in go up in smoke.

  There is no way a guy who looks anything like that would want me.

  "Good evening, Mr. Westwick. If I didn't know better I'd say you were afraid I would change my mind,” she said with a laugh that sounded strained to her ears.

  He stared deep into her eyes. “I've discovered I'm a worrier. I was afraid that you would come to your senses and leave me to find the stolen piece myself. That would have been useless since I need you."

  "I need you."

  She swam into a deep channel of bliss at the words. I need you. No one had ever said those words to her. Especially no one as strong and commanding as Ansley.

  And then she thought of the words that had come before them. He needed her to find his client's artwork.

  He doesn't actually need me.

  She could not ignore that fact. Going down that road was dangerous. She needed to remember that their relationship was professional in nature. Keeping that in mind, Sophia turned to fully face him. “Did you bring the additional information I requested?"

  He smiled. “Anxious to get your hands on it?” he said with a chuckle as he reached beneath his long black cape.

  "Yes,” Sophia lied. The truth was, she desperately needed something besides her daydreams to occupy her mind. The information he gave her piqued her interest so that when she wasn't fantasizing about him, she was thinking about the case.

  A manila folder appeared between them. He held the slim file in one hand. His long, tanned fingers looked shockingly large and competent against the pale yellow tone of the folder. Sophia couldn't help imagining those very fingers against the darker color of her flesh.

  Cupping her breasts.

  Sliding between her thighs.

  Pleasuring her through the night.

  She flipped the file open and stared down at the sheets, determined to ignore her desires. It took her a moment to figure out what was written on the first page. Once she did, she smiled. The missing piece was from her favorite period.

  "It's an eleventh-century full body of armor.” She gasped, startled, and lifted her head to stare at Ansley in surprise. “That's very unusual."

  "Especially in the Uni
ted States,” he replied as he stared down at her.

  The full weight of his gaze was overwhelming. Sophia found herself unable to hold it. She lowered her head and looked over the file in her hands. She stopped at a glossy photograph of the armor. Lips parted, ready to ask Ansley a question about the piece, she raised her head to look into his face.

  And froze.

  It was like a dream come true. Emotions she'd kept checked away flooded to the surface at the look in Ansley's eyes.

  He hungered for her.

  But then, before she could get a true grasp on the sight, it was gone. The fire disappeared from Ansley's gaze, and he took a step back. “I think it's best if we discuss our game plan in your office."

  Sophia blinked hard at the swift change that went through Ansley's face. If she hadn't been staring at him, she'd think she'd imagined the attraction there.

  And maybe, just maybe, I did, she thought with a silent sigh of dismay. She'd dreamed of the man for over a year. It stood to reason that she would project her fantasies onto him and see what she wanted to see.

  This was what she really feared about meeting Ansley. She was such a dreamer many family members claimed she lived in the world between reality and reveries. Where Ansley was concerned, she found it easy to drift away. The problem with dreaming was at some point she had to wake up. Sophia wasn't sure her heart could take the fall.

  "Sophia?” he called softly.

  "Yes? Right, let's go inside.” She closed the file, stepped into the dark gallery, and strode to her left. Mind on the man behind her and the file in her hand, Sophia turned the dial on the lighting. When Sophia turned around, she found Ansley standing right behind her.

  The man moved silently, never giving her a warning. It was unnerving to say the least. She looked up and stared into his eyes. He was so close Sophia could feel the comforting heat of his body.

  Sophia wanted nothing more than to take a step and bridge the small chasm between them. She ignored the fine flickering of need that swept through the muscles of her lower abdomen. Over the last eighteen months, she'd learned it was best to distance herself from the hunger Ansley elicited.

  Of course, completing the task was much easier when Ansley stood more than two thousand miles away. With his body so close to Sophia's, regaining her control was turning out to be an ordeal.

  Nothing has changed.

  As much as it hurt to admit the truth, the fact was, things were no different today than they'd been a month ago.

  Sophia was simply Ansley's consultant.

  Nothing more, plenty less.

  She held up the file. Ansley's sharp gaze shifted to it. She couldn't help feeling embarrassed at her actions. The folder seemed to be a barrier of sorts. One she desperately needed.

  "Let's go into my office and talk about this,” she managed to say in a cool voice as she shook the file gently.

  His gaze flashed to her face. Amusement sparkled in his eyes. He knew exactly what she was doing. She couldn't hide from him. “Okay,” he said calmly, but Sophia could hear the laughter in his tone. Irritated with him, herself, and the very situation that made her nervous, she spun around and strode into her office.

  She flipped on the light and made her way to her desk. Once behind it, she began to feel a little more composed. Her job was like a sanctuary. Here she felt relaxed and in control of her life.

  "Please take a seat,” she said as she motioned to the seats before her.

  Sophia flipped open the file and scanned through it while Ansley sat before her, taking her office in. She tried to keep her mind on the interesting case he'd given her, but it was difficult with his commanding presence filling the room. Still, she managed to keep her eyes down and on the file. By the time she reached the end, she knew the case was like nothing else he'd given her. It was more exciting and potentially rewarding.

  She lifted her head and looked at him. “So?” he asked. There was such confidence in his voice. He knew her answer even though she hadn't given it to him.

  "At least I have somewhere to wear that costume."

  He smiled. “Good, because I'm looking forward to seeing you in that costume again.” He stood and made his way to the door, leaving her to stare at him as a blush crept up her face. His flirtatious comment made her feel warm, wanted, and entirely feminine. It was blatant. Even she, with her poor communication skills, knew he was flirting. When they spoke on the phone, his comments always straddled the line, leaving her to wonder if he wanted her or not. She spent hours wondering if she should reach out to him and let him know what she was feeling.

  Thankfully, Ansley was more forward than she was.

  She closed the file and placed it on the desk. After grabbing her bag, she walked from the room to meet Ansley in the gallery. She found him on the phone talking to someone. She didn't want to listen in on his conversation, but she couldn't help hearing his tone.

  Ansley did not sound pleased.

  After he ended the call, he turned to her. “I've just received some more information about the piece. It might not be at the Bainsworth estate."

  She sucked in a silent breath. If the armor was not at the estate, there was no reason to go to the party. No reason for Ansley to spend the weekend with her.

  "So?” she asked, hoping he wouldn't tell her the whole affair was off.

  "Don't get me wrong, I would still like to check out Bainsworth's. I just wanted to warn you that we might not find the armor there."

  "I understand."

  "I need to speak with my friend. Ask him a few questions.” His gaze flickered and an indecipherable emotion passed over his face. “He's free now. Would you like to come along?"

  "Yes.” She strode toward the exit but stopped halfway there. She'd forgotten the file he gave her. “I'll be right back.” Feeling foolish, she trod back to her office and grabbed the file.

  He stood beside the open door, allowing the cool night air to enter the gallery. The soft breeze swept through his dark hair, giving his roguish aura even more fire. “Are you ready, Sophia?” he asked.

  She considered Ansley's question. Normally, Sophia would ignore her emotions and brave the event, comforted by the knowledge that she was doing her job.

  There was nothing normal about the night.

  "Sophia?"

  The tender tone of Ansley's normally gruff voice broke through her thoughts. “Yes, I'm ready."

  His riveting gaze searched her face for a moment. Then the fine corners of his eyes tightened. Sophia got the distinct impression that it was the closest Ansley came to truly smiling. Pleasure filled her at the sight of his softened features.

  Palm up, Ansley held out his hand. Sophia accepted what he offered and slid her fingers over his flesh. The feel of her skin moving over Ansley's sent heat snaking through Sophia's body.

  Swift and unrepentant, desire surged through her. The dark fan of Sophia's lustrous ebony locks lowered to cover her face as she dropped her head under the weight of her need. Sophia gritted her teeth and clenched her thighs as her sheath pooled with moisture.

  The tiniest touch and she experienced more pleasure than she'd felt with her last lover.

  She should have known Ansley would be dangerous to her when she gifted him with the nickname. But it was only now that Sophia realized just how much trouble the night could turn out to be.

  "Thank you."

  Sophia lifted her head and glanced at Ansley at his words. “For what?” she asked, confused.

  Her confusion turned to surprise when he gifted her with a slow smile. It did miraculous things to his hard, handsome face. It didn't just soften his features, it softened his aura. For that short period, the jaded element that surrounded him faded to the background. “For trusting me,” he replied.

  Eyes wide with the weight of Ansley's revelation, Sophia allowed herself to be led out of her gallery. She shivered as a cold, autumn gust of wind breezed by her. Clad in her skimpy costume, there wasn't much between her and the gust of wind. She
felt a chill deep in her bones.

  "You should have worn your coat,” Ansley rumbled as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. If he promised to keep her warm, she'd never wear her coat again.

  * * * *

  The pale yellow glow of headlights drifted across their parked car a few moments before a second vehicle pulled up alongside them. Ansley darted a glance at Sophia's shrouded face before turning back to the new car. His jaw was clenched tight in irritation at the sight that greeted him. Sophia's face was very expressive. He doubted she could keep her emotions hidden from those around her.

  And judging from what he'd seen, she was neither pleased nor comfortable.

  "I'll be right back,” he murmured as he opened the driver's-side door. Despite the turbulent emotions he felt, he closed it softly behind him. Ansley couldn't help wondering if Sophia regretted agreeing to the case.

  He couldn't blame her.

  Sophia Feathermoore was a sheltered, dignified beauty, and so far he'd asked her to wear a scandalous costume, steal someone's identity, and sneak into a party.

  He'd had no choice really. The suit of armor was his first job technically. Like most novices, he'd failed miserably at it. For years he'd searched for something, anything, that pointed to the armor's location, and then six months ago, rumors of a suit that matched the armor's description started floating through the art circuit. He'd chased each and every lead until they brought him to Bainsworth.

  Ansley thought he was damned when he'd reached the conclusion that Bainsworth purchased the suit of armor on the black market.

  And then Briton Wilde, a former client he'd acquired a special piece for, informed Ansley that every two years Bainsworth threw a grand gala. Better yet, Briton just happened to know someone who'd been invited but could not make it.

  When Briton told him about the event, Ansley immediately thought of Sophia Feathermoore.