“What do you mean?” Maggie didn’t even try to pretend that she hadn’t been eavesdropping.
“We can’t locate the animal.”
Maggie raised her voice just a bit louder. “Does that mean the animal never arrived in this building? That she’s lost here? Or that you gave the dog to someone else by accident?”
“We don’t make those kinds of mistakes,” Mandy spoke primly, but Quinn caught a glimpse of fear in her eyes.
“Good. Then produce the animal and we shall be on our way.”
An hour later, the best explanation they could come up with was the dog might have accidentally been included in a lot that went to a dog breeder in Ojai, a small tourist town about an hour north of Los Angeles.
With his day already shot, Quinn decided to drive out there. They now had a picture of the animal. She was so ugly she was cute. Her big brown eyes, pug nose and black and white markings should make it possible to distinguish her from other Boston terriers, but Quinn was secretly hoping that the breeder would help them out here.
However, once they arrived at the one-acre lot, he found the breeder apologetic. “It’s hard to tell them apart—unless it’s your own dog.”
Great.
Maggie stroked a puppy, allowing it to lick under her chin. “Did you receive the correct number of dogs in your last shipment?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I’ve already sold them but I can give you names and addresses.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have pictures?” Maggie asked.
“I’m afraid not.”
Once they were back in the car, Quinn turned off the radio. “You don’t suppose we could phone each of those people, have them e-mail us a picture of their dog—”
“—and ask Laine if one of them happens to be hers?” Maggie let out a long sigh. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Besides most people don’t have digital cameras and scanners and—”
“Okay. Okay. Now what?”
“Could we stop and eat something? I’m starved.”
“Sorry. You should have said something earlier.” Quinn could really be insensitive sometimes. Especially when he got wrapped up in his work. Or wrapped up in solving a mystery. He didn’t want to be chasing all over California for clues about Laine’s dog. He wanted to be looking for the person who had made love to him. But he had fewer clues about her than he did about Molly. At least the dog had a name. His mystery woman didn’t.
QUINN WASN’T SULKING, he was brooding. He’d wasted the day looking for Laine’s missing dog and canceled his date for the movie premiere he was supposed to attend that evening. Instead he took another long drive to clear his head. Could Laine Lamonde have set him up? He couldn’t discount any possibilities no matter how improbable, but what would have been the star’s motive?
That was the burning question. Why would any woman have acted like his mystery woman? Quinn even considered whether a friend or a rival could have sent a prostitute. But why? Although Quinn had never paid for sex, he believed that the woman he’d been with at Hotel Vendaz had been way too creative, too personal and into lovemaking to be a pro. He hadn’t imagined that electric tension between them. Besides, Quinn had a reputation as a ladies’ man and none of his friends were into practical jokes. And surely if it was a prank, the jokester would have come clean by now.
Nothing made sense.
When his cell phone rang, he checked the caller ID to see the caller’s identity. Maggie. “What’s up?”
“I found Molly.”
“Where?”
“Those idiots sent her to Laine’s address—at the studio. She’s been with the animals on that Halloween movie we’re filming.”
“Good work.”
“Thanks. Laine’s agent wants me to send her to—”
“Just do it. And thanks, Maggie.”
The moment he hung up, his cell phone rang again. This time the caller identification had been blocked. He answered out of habit more than a desire to speak to anyone. “Quinn here.”
“Bonjour.”
It was her! The woman whose name he still didn’t know. Elation seared through his excitement, and Quinn pulled onto the shoulder of the road.
A million questions zipped through his mind, like asking her name, or how she’d gotten his private number, or if she really had a French accent or needed to conceal her real identity—especially since that would mean he knew this woman. But he didn’t want to frighten her away with the third degree. He kept his tone casual. “I’m glad you called.”
“Really?”
He sensed her hesitation, as if she might hang up if he said one wrong thing. He needed to keep her talking. He just hoped his expert negotiation and people skills didn’t let him down. “I enjoyed being with you.”
“We were good together, yes?”
“Yes.” Were? He didn’t like her speaking in the past tense. As if they had no future. No possibility of another date. He clutched the phone, determined to change her mind. Determined not to lose the best thing that had happened to him in such a long time. Right now he felt so alive, every sense so alert, that the air he breathed seemed fresher, as if filled with crazed ions like the crisp air before a storm.
He sensed that she might hang up at any moment, that this connection was fragile. He held his breath, waiting for her to make the next move. She didn’t. Why had she called? He knew better than to ask so direct a question or he might frighten her away. An indirect method might be best. Was she wondering if it was safe to meet him in person? Would she consider allowing him to take her to dinner?
He didn’t think so. Last night she’d come to him wearing a mask. Now he couldn’t see her at all and she’d blocked her phone number so he couldn’t return her call. Clearly she still wanted to keep her identity secret.
“What are you wearing?” he asked.
She hesitated. Had his somewhat off-the-wall question and change in conversation taken her completely by surprise? Was she dressed for dinner? Ready for dancing? Or a night on the town?
“I’m wearing bubbles.”
“Bubbles?”
“I’m taking a bath. And the slick bubbles on my bare skin made me think of you.”
No doubt, just as she intended, his mouth went dry at the thought of her naked flesh covered with frothy bubbles. “You called the right man.”
“I did?”
Quinn was now in his element. He loved to make deals, but first he had to set the bait. “You remember how I played with your breasts with my palms last night?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to play with yourself just like that.”
This time, she didn’t hesitate. “Hold on. Let me put you on speakerphone so both of my hands are free.”
Water splashed and he imagined the ripples of water parting the bubbles, her pink nipples peeking through white foam. And he immediately grew rock-hard, his slacks tightening uncomfortably. Still, he had to wonder at how easily she’d accepted his suggestion. She’d called him. Was she setting him up to make a fool of him?
“Can you hear me?” she asked.
“Just fine.” He considered his next words carefully, and concluded that he could live with the consequences if his statement somehow became public. “Are your hands on your breasts?”
“Hmm. My hands are softer than yours.”
“Pinch your nipples,” he ordered.
“Mmm.”
“Keep your hands on your breasts.” He had no trouble issuing orders. Although he’d never done anything like this in his life, he knew exactly what he wanted her to do next. Now that he had her thinking about sex, he switched the subject. “Are you taping this conversation?”
She chuckled. “Non. I assure you that if our conversation became public, I would have much more to lose than you would.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you are a powerful man.” Water swished in the background but he heard no other clues to her location. No traffic. Or airplanes. Not even a dog barking. “And a Hollywoo
d scandal would only enhance your reputation. But I could lose my job.”
He had to use every ounce of control to refrain from asking her where she worked. Probably for him, he guessed, since she knew his schedule and phone number.
“Where are your hands?” he asked her.
“On my breasts, exactly where you suggested.”
He almost groaned aloud at the image. But he kept to his agenda. “I’d like us to make a bargain.”
She didn’t reply to his suggestion. Like an expert negotiator, she distracted him. “My nipples are quite tight and hard. And I’m tingly all over. Perhaps, I should hang up.”
Why is it that God gave man a brain and a penis and not enough blood to service both at the same time? Since all the blood in his body seemed to have gone south, he was having more difficulty than usual keeping the conversation on track.
On the upside, he hadn’t scared her off. So he pressed a little more. “I’m going to give you a very pleasant hour over the phone and you’ll give me something in return.”
“I will?”
“Tomorrow, visit me in my office,” he suggested, praying she wouldn’t hang up.
A long silence hung in the phone connection between them.
Finally she spoke. “Tell me why you want us to meet again.”
His heart rate accelerated. The writer in him knew what he said next might be the last thing he ever said to her. He mentally rejected one line after another. And finally settled on the truth. “The sex was wonderful, but I want more from you.”
“More?”
“You’ve caught my attention,” he admitted. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” Had he gone too far? Or not far enough?
“I like you thinking about me. So I agree to your terms.” He pumped his fist in success.
“But I have one condition of my own.”
“Which is?”
She chuckled, a rich, deep sound that shot straight to his core. “Such impatience. Tomorrow, I’ll send you a gift. And it will be up to you whether or not to accept that gift in the manner I’ve asked.”
So vague. So mysterious. What was she up to? He knew better than to ask. Dared not push her any harder. So he took what she’d offered.
The air eased out of his lungs with a breath of elation. She would meet him tomorrow. “Then we have a deal.”
MAGGIE HAD NEVER HAD PHONE SEX before. She’d certainly never watched in a mirror as she brought herself to climax, either. But just hearing Quinn’s sexy voice in her ear had done strange things to her psyche. Suddenly her secretary persona had been left behind and she’d blossomed into this boldly sexual woman who knew what she wanted and knew how to get it.
Maggie had hung up the phone, liking this emerging bombshell part of herself. First, it was fun. Second, she had been having the best sex of her life. And third, she found that her knack for planning was allowing her the opportunity for additional trysts.
She fully intended to keep her word and visit him tomorrow in his office. It wouldn’t matter if he arranged to have his office watched. She wouldn’t even have to evade the security cameras to enact the plan that had popped into her head fully blown as she’d agreed to Quinn’s bargain. As long as she kept her identity secret, as long as nothing went wrong with her outrageous scheme, she wouldn’t lose her job. And now that Quinn had admitted that he was thinking about her quite a bit, she felt even more secure about her role in this game she was playing with Quinn.
However, her nerves were frazzled at her audacity. But the excitement and the risk of discovery kept egging her on. She was so keyed up, so jazzed by the risks, that she wondered if living on the edge could become addictive.
That she’d stirred Quinn’s interest excited her enough to risk another encounter. The sex had been wonderful, but when Quinn had told her that he wanted more, her heart had clenched, quivered and filled with hope that maybe her one-night stand could turn into a full-fledged fling.
So what if women threw themselves at him on a daily basis? So what if he came from a background that made it impossible for him to believe in love? She wasn’t even considering anything permanent—in fact, that kind of thinking was fatal when it came to Quinn. Quinn was heat and pleasure and oh-so temporary—which simply added to the exhilaration.
After taking her shower, she planned to go straight to bed. She hadn’t slept at all last night and snuggling into her covers after being so physically sated was irresistible. But the moment she belted her bathrobe, Maggie heard knocking at her front door.
Her pulse skyrocketed. Quinn couldn’t have found her, she told herself. She’d blocked the call before dialing his number. And she’d continued to use the phony accent to disguise her voice, hadn’t she?
Yet, her friends didn’t come by without calling. Her family lived fifteen hundred miles away in Michigan and never paid her unexpected visits. Her best friend Leslie was out of town researching water skiing on Lake Powell for a trendy travel magazine and…Just answer the door, Maggie.
She checked the peephole first.
Kimberly? What was she doing here on a Tuesday night? Tuesday night! Yikes. They were supposed to have met downstairs about ten minutes ago to attend a play given by the UCLA drama department. Maggie liked to watch the up-and-coming actors and actresses for talent and had especially wanted to see Serena Kendall again, a grad student who oozed sex appeal and talent in her second leading role. Kimberly enjoyed viewing creative efforts of college writers who only had shoestring budgets to work with.
Maggie opened her door. “I’m so sorry. I totally forgot.”
Kimberly checked her watch. “If you hurry and dress we can still make it.”
Maggie didn’t want to cancel on her friend. She didn’t like women who abandoned their girlfriends every time there was a new man in their life. At the same time, she didn’t have the energy to dress, let alone stay up another four hours.
Maggie shook her head. “Would you mind if I don’t go? I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.”
Kimberly peered at her. “You don’t have some man stashed in the bedroom, do you?”
“I wish. But no, why?”
“Because your skin is positively glowing with that I’m-so-sated look.”
“Does phone sex count?”
Kimberly walked straight into Maggie’s kitchen, opened the fridge and helped herself to a beer. She twisted off the top, took a deep swig, then settled into a kitchen chair. “Your life sounds much more interesting than the play. Tell me you called Quinn.”
“I called Quinn.”
“And?”
If Maggie hadn’t been so confused, she would never have admitted what she’d done. But now that she had, she didn’t mind. She needed someone to talk to. Kimberly would understand, and she might need her help again tomorrow.
“Quinn knows I’m not Laine, but he doesn’t know that I’m Maggie.”
Kimberly grinned. “You know, it worries me that I actually understood that convoluted sentence.”
“You want to talk about my grammar or my sex life?” Maggie filled up a glass with ice water and sat at the table across from Kimberly.
“Look, I was all for a glorious one-nighter. But aren’t you pushing your luck?”
“I agreed to meet with him tomorrow. In person.”
“You may have an invisible S on your chest, but you aren’t stupid.”
“I have a plan.”
Kimberly shook her head and sipped her beer. “You’re playing with fire and you’re going to get burned.”
“Hey, you were the one who encouraged me in the first place,” Maggie reminded her. “I was hoping you could help me out tomorrow by answering Quinn’s phone. I’ll call in sick.”
Kimberly shook her head. “I don’t know which calls to put through to Quinn and who to stall.”
“I’ll make you a list.”
“Am I putting my career on the line here?”
“Of course not.”
“If Quinn finds out who
you are and that I’m helping you…” Kimberly shuddered. “He’ll fire us both.”
“Me, maybe, but not you. I’ll tell him that you had no idea what was going on.” What Maggie didn’t mention to her friend was that she wasn’t just doing this for herself. She was offering Quinn something he’d never had before—a woman who wanted him for himself and not for what he could give her. And even if she was taking an incredible risk, she couldn’t resist giving his ego a boost. “Quinn might get angry, but he’s fair. You’ll be okay.”
“I don’t know.”
“If you want Quinn to produce your movie, you need to make contacts, and there’s no better way to make those contacts than to answer Quinn’s phones.”
“Quinn scares me. He’s so intense. He makes me nervous. I always spill coffee or trip or do dumb things around him. It’s bad enough that he thinks I’m a klutz but—”
“Stop making excuses. You encouraged me and now you can’t back out. Besides, I promised to show up and I can’t pull this off without you to cover the phones and the door.”
“And why won’t he recognize you this time?”
“Quinn will be screening his new movie in his office tomorrow.”
“So?”
“He’ll be alone.”
“So?”
“It’ll be dark.”
“So?”
Maggie had no intention of telling her friend her entire plan. Some things were private. Kimberly didn’t need to know the intimate details. “If the lights are all out, he won’t be able to see my face.”
Kimberly slugged back her beer, set down the empty bottle and spun it between her fingers. “You’re going to seduce him in his office?”
“That’s why I need you. No phone calls. No interruptions.”
“And then what?”
Maggie frowned. “What do you mean, ‘and then what?’ Then I leave and—”
“What will you do the next time?” Kimberly asked.
“I’ll think of something.”
Kimberly sighed. “The more seductions that you set up, the greater the chance that you’re going to get caught.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Stop thinking with your hormones and use your head. Suppose he checks with security?”
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