“Do you remember anything from the class?”
“She had the greatest set of—”
“Anything about the course material?”
“I passed the final, didn’t I?” Zane said only somewhat indignantly. Grey sounded a bit rattled. And for a man who considered revealing emotions a weakness and who usually kept his feelings corked tighter than a bottled genie, this tiny sign of frustration was probably just the tip of some huge revelation.
“I suppose I can count on you, then.”
“As good as counting on yourself,” Zane told him. “We do have the same IQ.”
“Yeah, but I actually use mine,” Grey countered.
Zane grinned, knowing his next comment would rub Grey the wrong way, maybe even enough to get him to the point of this conversation. “You called me for help, remember?”
“Someone’s sabotaging the newspaper,” Grey finally blurted. “For all I know, it could be my stalker. Her name’s Toni Maxwell. The newspaper’s trouble started around the time of her arrival.”
“So post a guard to keep her out,” Zane suggested.
“I posted two guards, Zane.” Grey’s voice dropped as if he were strangling on the words.
“And?” Zane prodded.
“She managed to walk right past them—in a gorilla costume, no less.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know, one of those out-of-work stage singers who embarrass people with stupid songs on their birthdays.”
“Very clever.” Zane laughed.
“Perhaps, but not funny.”
“Right. Not funny.” Zane almost choked trying to muffle another chuckle. “So what kind of damage did the singing gorilla do?”
“For starters, she stripped.”
“Naked?” Zane could just imagine Grey’s face going catatonic at the prank. He’d have given up a week’s worth of parties to have been there.
“The security guards arrived before she took off much.”
“Too bad.”
Zane didn’t understand his brother. Why couldn’t Grey act like every other red-blooded American man and salivate at the sight of a woman stripping? Zane had read studies that men thought about sex on an average of every five to six minutes. As a man proud of his hedonistic and passionate tendencies, Zane figured the estimate of five minutes couldn’t be normal. The truth must be closer to two or three.
“Here’s the clincher, brother. While this Toni Maxwell entertained the office staff at my expense, someone poured oil into the ink. We had to reprint the entire run in the main press and hit the stands three hours late.”
At the conclusion of his brother’s story, Zane steered his mind away from the very pleasant thought of this woman stripping in Grey’s office. While he probably indulged himself much more frequently than Grey, he could focus on business and put two and two together when necessary. “And you suspect Toni Maxwell was a plant? A distraction?”
“Well, she damn sure doesn’t work for the local singing telegram outfits.”
“You questioned her?”
Grey remained silent. Very silent.
Zane knew his brother well. “You want me to question her?”
“I don’t have the time or the desire.”
And Zane did—if he forfeited the enticing invitation from a very nubile southern charmer that he’d met last Saturday night to go sailing on Lake Pontchartrain. She’d promised him an afternoon of delights as a not-very-sincere apology for asking about his bank account. While she could live off her plump trust fund without lifting a finger for the rest of her life, she was quite the little mercenary, more interested in his wealth and his opinion of prenuptial agreements than in him. While her attitude mildly offended him, he hadn’t intended to let her opinions interfere with his pleasure.
The only other obligation in his immediate future was to meet with Reina Price, a close friend and tenant of the house in the Garden District he’d inherited from his grandmother. Reina, European and exotic, went to the same parties as Zane and knew the same crowd of people. He thought of her like a little sister who usually was capable of taking very good care of herself. Over the years, they’d become good friends and never before had Reina asked for his help. He wouldn’t abandon Reina now, especially when she felt she couldn’t trust anyone else with her problem. The jewelry designer wouldn’t tell him much over the phone, so he’d agreed to meet her tomorrow afternoon.
When Zane remained silent, Grey gave him a business recap. “Circulation is down. Paper and fuel costs are on the rise. The union is giving my attorneys fits. I’m going to have to fire people who have worked for us for years. And to top it off, I’m handling the fallout from Lane’s book. I can’t deal with this woman stalking me, too.”
“You need a vacation.”
“Sure, I’ll just take off and leave all these problems behind.”
“Why not? All your troubles will still be waiting for you when you come back.”
“Maybe you can go off and relax while the family business is falling apart, but I can’t.” Grey sighed. “Never mind, Zane. I’ll handle this somehow.”
“You always do,” Zane agreed, but guilt stabbed him. Grey had run the family business for years while Zane had played and dabbled and loafed. Now that Grey seemed at the end of a fraying tether, Zane felt obligated to offer, “Why don’t we trade places for a while?”
His brother didn’t respond immediately, making Zane wonder if Grey was considering the proposal or rolling his eyes at his twin’s foolish idea. “Oh sure, and let you run the place into the ground?”
“Hey, hotshot. Sounds as though you’re going down fast anyway. This way, if we go belly-up, you can blame me.”
Even if the family business declared bankruptcy, the brothers would remain solvent. With their investments diversified, they could weather any storm short of a class five hurricane. But their great-grandfather had started that paper and their grandfather and father had kept it going, if not always prosperous. To allow the paper to fail, without making some effort to save it, didn’t sit right with Zane. While he’d always been quite content to let Grey have the prestige and the headaches, it was only fair to take a turn.
“I don’t know if I should let you talk me into this.”
That Grey would even consider his suggestion revealed to Zane that his brother really needed a rest. And a new challenge might do Zane some good. He’d recently found himself bored with this year’s crop of jet-set divas and the latest out-on-the-prowl divorcées. Living in Grey’s penthouse in the CBD—central business district—would be no hardship. Zane could use a change of scene and a challenge.
“It’ll be fun. You’ll get to be me,” Zane teased. “Just think…sleeping in past 5 a.m., beignets and coffee at Café du Monde nearly every morning, licking powdered sugar off the fingers of—”
“I’ll keep my licking to my own fingers, thank you.”
“Oh, come on.” Zane knew his brother thought him totally incapable of running the paper—a place he’d avoided all his life. But now he found himself curious to see if he could make a difference. “I’ll liven up the newspaper. Besides, I do have that pesky little degree in journalism, and I’ve never gotten to use it.”
“That’s precisely my concern.”
“Think. No more paparazzi chasing you for comments about your sexual exploits. No more whiny lawyers to deal with. No more headaches over paying the bills.”
“You really want to trade?” Grey’s tone softened to almost wistful.
They’d done it before, but not recently. Zane didn’t bother to remind his brother that they’d never been caught. Not when they were twelve and Zane had run the mile to pass a phys ed test for his twin who had had the flu. Not when they’d been seventeen and Zane had gotten drunk backstage and Grey had taken his place in the high school play.
People rarely probed beneath the surface to inspect the differences that made each of them unique. In Zane’s case, he had never spent enough time with any one w
oman for her to really know him, valuing his freedom too much to commit to one woman for more than a few months. And he rarely held still long enough for anyone to see beyond his good-time-boy image—so Grey could say or do whatever he wanted as Zane without fear of causing any damage. And as for Zane, he thrived in the midst of chaos and, unlike Grey, who so hated having his private life made public, Zane intended to take advantage of the publicity.
Several ideas popped into his head, innovations for the newspaper that he’d hadn’t even known had been in his brain until now. He figured the Louisiana Daily Herald needed a little shaking up, and Zane was just the man to do it. But, he had the good sense to keep his plans to himself. He justified keeping his secret by trying to convince himself that if Grey knew his intentions, he’d never agree to a vacation.
Yet never had a man been more in need. While Grey had spent his life cloaked in conservative business and respectability, now the entire world knew that underneath the polished exterior, he was more like fun-loving Zane than anyone could have guessed. While Zane had always wanted his brother to loosen up, he didn’t want him to unravel. However, Grey would never release the reins of control unless Zane convinced him to do so.
“Hell, I can delegate with the best of ’em. You must have some competent employees, so I can’t screw up too badly.” Zane had no intention of simply delegating, but he hadn’t spent thirty-two years trying not to be Grey without learning how his brother thought. He sensed him weakening and backed off. Too much pressure and Grey would turn stubborn. “I’ll even buy a pair of reading glasses and wear them. But if you would just take off one day of work and go in for eye surgery like I did, I wouldn’t have to bother.”
“It won’t hurt you to wear clear glasses.”
“Fine. You just need to do one thing for me.”
“What?”
When Grey asked the question, Zane knew he had him. “I got a call from a friend of mine, Reina Price—”
“Reina Price, the jewelry artist?”
“You know Reina?”
“We ran an article on her gallery opening last year. How do you know her?”
“We hang out. She leases two buildings from me and needs help with a business problem. If we switch, you’ll need to fill in. Might not be easy. She knows me pretty well. I’m supposed to meet with her tomorrow afternoon.”
“You’ll have to go to the grand reopening of Club Carnal tonight.”
“As if I wasn’t going already,” Zane muttered.
“Yes, but as me, you’ll need to get there early, interview the new owner and perhaps a few patrons, then get out before things get too wild.”
“You mean interesting.” Zane paused. “For how long are we switching?”
“For as long as you want.”
“And you’ll take care of Reina Price?”
“If you take care of Toni Maxwell.”
With pleasure. Zane looked forward to being stalked. And he most definitely couldn’t wait to be caught.
“YOU’VE SCORED INVITATIONS to the grand reopening of Club Carnal?” Bobby squealed, dropping the day’s receipts on the checkout counter of Feminine Touch, Toni’s dress boutique, now closed for the night.
The last customer had left hours ago. With the curtains across the front windows drawn shut, the shop had more the feel of a risqué boudoir than ever. A canopy bed covered with acres of white lace dominated the display where one frothy black gown called out “buy me” to customers. And buy they did. The display had cost a small fortune, but Toni didn’t regret her reckless spending. In fact, she hoped that one of the major department stores might soon pick up her new dress line. Feminine Touch was slowly expanding from evening wear into sportswear and flirty beach attire, and soon lingerie, allowing her to indulge her sensual side.
Toni grinned at her sister’s enthusiasm and offered Bobby an invitation. “Grey Masterson’s going to cover the grand reopening, and I’m going to make my move. I want you to come with me tonight.”
Bobby fisted her hands on hips swathed in pink chiffon. “What’s the catch?”
“You have to model my new beachwear.”
“Beachwear?” Bobby frowned. “Club Carnal is the hottest nightclub in the Art District. We need haute couture. Versace. Dolce and Gabbana. Pamela Dennis.”
“Tonight, skin is in.” Toni grabbed Bobby’s wrist and tugged her toward the rear of the shop where she created and sewed her designs. Huge cutting tables and sewing machines dominated the middle of the workspace. Along the walls, on pallet racks, she stored hundreds of bolts of material in various patterns and colors in everything from cashmere and angora to less exotic but comfy cable-patch cottons to the latest high-tech microsuedes. In the very back, next to the heavy metal exit door, stood a rack of finished products.
She searched through the nighties and gowns until she found what she wanted. “For Club Carnal’s grand reopening, the new owner’s throwing a bubble party.”
Toni carefully removed a hanger from the rack and thrust her latest creation, cloaked by a plastic green garment bag, into Bobby’s hands. Eagerly, her sister accepted the offering and tore off the plastic to reveal a shimmer of pink.
“Wow!” Bobby reverently stroked the material, her eyes lighting with pleasure. “It’s gorgeous, but way too small for me.”
“The material is ninety percent Lycra. It’s guaranteed to stretch, shimmer and sizzle. Trust me. That outfit will mold to every curve—and when it gets wet, it won’t sag.”
“Wet?”
“This is a bubble party. Bubble machines froth all over the nightclub. It’d be one big wet T-shirt party, if anyone is gauche enough to wear T-shirts.” Toni shooed her toward the dressing room. “Try it on.”
“Okay.”
“There’s a matching bikini bottom and a bralette sewn into the top. The effect is seamless. No distracting lines other than female curves.”
“Sounds wicked.” Bobby headed through the curtains toward the dressing room.
Toni had chosen her target tonight carefully, determined to create a scandal that would be a win-win situation for both her and her target. Grey’s paper had once done a story on her boutique, and he’d sent a reporter who was wet behind the ears and had been eager to please. The woman had done a fine job, even using a color photograph to accompany the piece. So she had felt a little guilty sneaking onto his paper’s premises in the gorilla suit to get past the guard he’d posted at the front door. She’d intended to do a sexy striptease to gain his attention. That idea had been half baked, reckless, she now acknowledged. She had to do better. But at Club Carnal, she could approach him as if they’d never met. While she wasn’t quite sure how far she’d go to create a sexual scandal, so much of that would depend on Grey. His previous reaction had been annoyance, his approach to getting rid of her all too businesslike.
Still, Toni wouldn’t give up on her target, not when he was so perfect. After Lane Morrow had publicly dumped Grey Masterson, Toni figured that a new affair with another woman could only bolster his self-esteem and enhance his public image. But stalking Grey Masterson had perks she hadn’t considered. Not only was the man in the tabloids almost every day, but he associated with people who counted. People who got noticed by the press and had their pictures taken. If she played her cards right tonight, she might obtain some free advertising, especially if her designs showed up in tomorrow’s paper. More important, word of her planned escapade might make it north as far as Washington…and Senator Birdstrum.
At worst, people in the club would notice her newest creations, and, if asked, she’d discreetly hand out business cards to steer customers to Feminine Touch. She’d designed Bobby’s outfit in pink, but, for herself, had chosen a hot apple-red that made her feel both seductive and slightly wicked. Half party dress, half swimsuit, the ensemble molded to her bustline and waist then the skirt softly flared over her hips and ended provocatively just inches below the matching bikini panty. The concoction was absolutely perfect for tonight’s part
y. And for attracting a man.
The outfit gave her courage to act more seductively than she normally would have. To her, the red design was the costume of a woman more brazen than she was. Now all she had to do was act the part.
While Grey Masterson hadn’t found her irresistible in the gorilla outfit she’d borrowed from Bobby—who moonlighted for a local company—she hadn’t expected him to call security to escort her from his premises before she could strip down to something more enticing. But then Grey had only reinforced her belief that he was a workaholic like she was. However, tonight, she intended to knock his socks off. Toni touched up her makeup, choosing cherry-red lipstick to match her dress, darkening and smudging her eyelids until her eyes looked big enough to capture her quarry. Grey would not escape her tonight. She didn’t care if she had to fight off every woman in the place for his attention. She aimed to get her man.
And she very well might have to do battle for him. Grey was gorgeous enough to be a model—not that she could imagine him doing anything so prissy. With his strong jawline, cutting-edge cheekbones and firm mouth, he was a man’s man, a captain of industry, wealthy and respected. Lane Morrow’s tell-all book about his sexual exploits had only lent another dimension to the man’s already potent business allure.
After meeting him in person, Toni realized she’d underestimated his natural charisma. Grey had a manner of eclipsing those around him, not so much from his towering height or broad shoulders, but just by the sheer strength of his character. From his dark chestnut eyebrows, one shade lighter than the thick hair on his head, to his Paul-Newman-blue eyes that pierced straight through his reading glasses and had made her grateful for the gorilla mask, he’d commanded the air around him.
She’d hoped her singing gorilla striptease would intrigue him, but he hadn’t stopped scowling for even a moment. Even a glower hadn’t marred the perfection of his strong nose, high cheekbones and swarthy tan. But approaching him during business hours, in his territory, had been a mistake. The mood hadn’t been set for romance. And tonight, they would be on equal ground.
Double the Thrill Page 3