by Lori Foster
Done. He’d finished it. Oh, he knew it was only a first draft, written in a week of around-the-clock obsessiveness. It’d take him another two months to flesh it out, to add layers and details.
But the skeleton was there. And it was solid. At least, he thought it was.
Exhaustion wrapped around him, dragging at his body. But his mind spun in a million directions. He needed sleep. He needed decent food. More, he really needed a shower.
But all he wanted was Delaney. To see her, to touch her. He’d kill to taste her. But most of all, he wanted her to read his work. To tell him if he’d hit that emotional bar she’d set. To see if she was right.
With a glance at the clock, he calculated how long it’d take him to clean up and get over to her place. Was ten too late to drop in?
He considered, then hit the print button before shuffling to the shower. The promise of seeing Delaney wiped away the last of his fatigue.
He couldn’t wait.
*
HIS TEETH NIPPED at her thighs, making her writhe in desperate need. The chains on her wrists bit at her flesh, reminding her she was his prisoner. His sex slave.
With a frown, Delaney pulled herself from the story to figure out what had caught her attention. It took her a few seconds to separate the random pounding from the beat of the Aerosmith tune cranking from her stereo.
Her brain still enmeshed in the sex slave scene from one of Nick’s earlier books, it took her another ten seconds to realize the pounding was at her front door. Company? She glanced at the clock radio on her bedside table and frowned. After ten at night? Mrs. Johnson down the hall must have had an emergency.
She threw off the covers and nudged her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. Hurrying to the door, she caught her reflection in the mirror and winced. Part of her hair was knotted around the pencil at the top of her head, the rest frizzed around her face. A face that, thanks to her moisturizer, glistened so her freckles reflected the overhead light. Baggy sweats and a ratty T-shirt completed her look.
Oh, well, her elderly neighbor wouldn’t care. Leaving the security chain on just in case, Delaney tugged open the door.
Shit.
She stared in horror at the man on her doorstep. It was all she could do not to slam the door in his face.
“Nick?” Her vision swirled in a black mist of panic.
“You gonna let me in?”
Did she have to? Could she ask him to come back in ten minutes? Five, if she just did her makeup and stripped naked instead of finding decent clothes.
“Delaney?” he asked, his blue gaze sparkling with laughter. “Did I wake you up?”
“No, I was…” Getting hot and horny reading his book? Rather than sharing that little tidbit, she closed her eyes and tried to find a way out. Nothing. With a sigh, she closed the door, slid off the security chain and reopened it to let him in.
Fear, fast and furious, sped through her system. Her fingers gripped tight the nubby fabric of her sweats as she chewed the corner of her mouth.
She didn’t want him to see her like this. Ever. She’d even made a list of kicky casual clothes and lingerie to buy if they ended up staying together and sketched out a plan on how to always be made-up and stylish.
“What’re you doing here?” She could hear the horror in her tone, but he apparently couldn’t since he just shrugged and gave her a quick peck on her cheek before crossing the threshold to pace her living room.
He shot a quick glance toward her, but then looked away so fast Delaney couldn’t read his eyes. She clenched her teeth, rubbing a finger over the threads hanging off her T-shirt. Oh, my god, she must look worse than she’d imagined. Feeling raw and exposed, she took a couple deep breaths while she waited for him to explain why he was there.
But he just paced in silence.
“Um, can you give me a second?” she asked, eyeing the bedroom. Was it possible to save this situation? So much for her “ease him into seeing the real her and see if he was still interested” plan.
“I need your help,” he said instead of answering her. His tone was edgy and just a little desperate.
“Okay,” she agreed immediately. She didn’t feel any less naked, but she couldn’t turn him away. “What can I do?”
“I…” He looked around, then looked at the thick sheaf of papers held together with a rubber band in his hand. He held it out to her with a look so vulnerable Delaney’s heart tripped. “Can you read this? I need to know what you think.”
“Of course.” Self-conscious paranoia forgotten, Delaney hurried forward to take the papers. Unable to help herself, she gave him a hug.
As her arms closed around him, Nick groaned and pulled her tight against him. Eyes shut, he pressed his mouth over hers in a rough, desperate kiss. Needy and wild, it sent tremors through her body as Delaney’s tongue met his. His fingers unerringly found her beaded nipple beneath the threadbare fabric of her T-shirt. Delaney groaned and pressed closer.
More. She wanted more. Then Nick pulled away and, giving her one quick look, grimaced and shook his head.
“No. I need you to read that for me, okay?”
The worry in his expression told her not to take the rejection personally. He obviously had something major eating at him.
“Go ahead and sit down,” she told him. “I’ll just, um…do you want a drink or something?”
“I need you to read it like you would for work,” Nick told her. She frowned at the implacability in his tone.
“What do you mean?”
“Not as my lover, but as a reviewer.”
Damp heat flared deep in her belly at his reference to her as his lover. Her gaze flickered to the couch where he’d given her that first orgasm.
Maybe if she read fast, she could have another one tonight?
“My office?”
“Perfect.”
*
DAMN. NICK FOLLOWED Delaney down the hall toward her office. When they passed the open door of her bedroom, he was tempted to grab her and haul her in for a quick, sweaty tussle on the messy bed. The tangled blankets and strewn pillows made him grin. Good to know she wasn’t totally tidy, he’d been starting to get paranoid.
The sweet sway of her hips, barely discernable beneath the red, draping fabric of her sweatpants, distracted him. Usually when he finished a draft, he needed a physical outlet for all the pent-up energy he’d shoved to the side during his mental journey. In other words, sex.
Now was no different.
Except, for the first time he wanted something more. He wanted Delaney’s approval.
He’d faced editors, his agent, hell, even the roughest reviewers with fewer nerves than he currently had battling in his gut.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked as they entered her office. “A drink, a snack?”
He almost asked for a Scotch on the rocks, but shook his head. Numbing his brain wouldn’t make this any easier. Her frown, so pretty and confused, made him smile a little. He knew he was being all secretive and pushy, but he had no words to tell her how important this was to him. How much it meant to know what she thought. Of his words, his writing. His emotions.
“Can you just, you know—” he waved his hand toward the manuscript “—read it for me. Now, please.”
“Of course. Do you want an opinion, or an actual critique?”
“What do you usually do when you analyze?”
“I make notes.”
“Notes, then,” he said with a nod.
Delaney gave him a long look, then nodded and settled into a chair. A part of his mind noted how the rich red fabric suited her, both strong and intense. Another part noted how young and sweet she looked without makeup. Her hair, all wild and unruly, made him thing of long, sexy nights rubbing over the sheets. He let that image entertain him for a minute.
Then she pulled a notepad and pen over from the small table next to her and started writing.
Nick’s stomach clenched.
“That’s the first dra
ft, just so you know,” he defended.
She didn’t even glance at him. Just nodded and kept making notes.
Five minutes passed. Then ten. Nick paced. He couldn’t even focus long enough to look at the titles of the books crowded in the bookcase except to note that most of his seemed to be there.
He tried to distract himself by looking around her office. Sensual and efficient, he decided. Sexy lines, enticing textures, clean surfaces. All typical of Delaney.
He shoved a hand through his hair and reconsidered her offer of a drink. Except for all the attention she was giving him, he doubted she’d offer again.
Nick’s gaze lit on her laptop. Opened, the monitor was black. But he could tell it was booted up from the standby light.
“Do you mind if I go online, check my e-mail?” he asked her. “I’ve been buried the last week and haven’t bothered.”
She didn’t even look up. Just waved her agreement and kept making those damned notes. Nick bit back the panic.
Familiar with her model, he pushed the silver standby button and waited for the monitor to power up.
She was already online. He reached for the mouse to open a new browser, but before he could click, the e-mail on the screen caught his eye.
Professor?
Nick frowned, but kept reading.
Damn it all to hell. Betrayal slammed into him like a two-ton truck, stealing his breath. Black spots flashed in his vision, edged with a furious red.
She’d used him? Echoes of his ex-wife’s and mother’s half truths and lies whispered through his head. She’d straight up used him. And he’d let her. Hell, he’d made it easy for her.
She didn’t want him. She’d only wanted to use his career. It was all for a promotion in a job he, who had opened his soul to her by handing her his raw, emotional manuscript, hadn’t even realized she had.
Nick’s gut clenched, his jaw throbbing with the need to rage. It was all he could do not to toss the computer across the room.
She didn’t care about him. He was nothing to her except a means to an end.
Nick stood so fast, the sleek office chair flew back to slam into the wall.
Delaney’s startled gaze flew to his.
“You okay?” she asked. Despite her furrowed brow, her tone made it clear she was only half-focused on him. The rest of her was focused on her freaking winning manuscript.
Hell, no, he wasn’t okay. But he’d be damned if he’d give her the satisfaction of letting her know.
Which meant he had to get the hell out of here. Now.
“I’ve gotta go,” he said, heading for the door.
“What’s the matter?” She sprang to her feet, the pad and pen falling to the floor. The pages she’d already read followed, fluttering like confetti. Color swept her cheeks, as if she were embarrassed. How could she be, though? Anyone who could lie so coolly to his face would hardly be self-conscious of being a klutz.
“I’ve got to go,” he repeated, ignoring her question. “I’ll be back tomorrow night to pick you up for the ball.”
“Ball?” Delaney asked, confusion clear on her face. Her gaze bounced between him and the manuscript pages still gripped in her hand, as if she didn’t know which to focus on. “Wait, you’re leaving? Don’t you want to hear what I think of the story?”
“I got tickets to an erotic ball,” Nick snapped, ignoring her question just as he ignored the manuscript she held out. Like he wanted it now? She’d just proven to him it was all crap. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Don’t forget to bring a mask.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I TOLD YOU. Didn’t I tell you he’d freak when he saw the real me?” Delaney ranted as she paced Mindy’s office at eight the next morning.
She hadn’t been able to wait for her friend to meet her for lunch, and this certainly wasn’t a phone-call type of discussion. No, ranting of this level required in person, face-to-face time.
So she’d washed away the tears, only bothering to swipe on mascara and pull her hair back in a leather band. The jeans were pure defiance, since she’d known she was coming to her father’s office.
“Maybe it was something else,” Mindy said around her thumbnail. The poor blonde had been trying to eat her bagel when Delaney had stormed in. Chewing her nails was a poor nutritional substitute. “Maybe he was nervous about you making notes on his work? Maybe he thought you’d just, you know, read it and give him pats on the head or something.”
“Maybe he was struck speechless at the sight of my baggy red sweats and oily face.”
Mindy’s eye roll forced Delaney to slow down, to push past the hurt and think.
“Maybe it’s because my reviews are winning and he’s pissed. I mean, he publicly stated if I won, he’d have to add emotions to his stories.” Even as she said it aloud, she knew it couldn’t be that. She’d read Nick’s manuscript after he’d left—three times—hoping to lose herself in the story and forget her hurt over his abrupt departure.
He’d called it a rough draft. She called it pure brilliance. Emotions had poured from the pages, it had sung with a perfect blend of action and intensity.
“No,” she murmured. “It has nothing to do with the bet. This has to be me.”
“Oh, my god, you have to stop it,” Mindy screeched, slapping her hands on her desk. “Seriously, why do you do this to yourself?”
Shocked, Delaney stopped pacing to stare at her friend.
“You’re so paranoid about this mask, this fake you, that you won’t accept that it’s all just you. Professor Delaney Conner, sexy TV literary critic.” Mindy’s angry words hit at Delaney like blows. “You’re not this phony with a half-dozen compartmentalized personas. You’re a smart woman who finally let herself use the tools, the advantages, most other women use. Makeup, hair products, decent-fitting clothes.”
“I’m not paranoid—” Delaney started to say, but Mindy interrupted her.
“Bullshit. You think that just because Nick saw you without makeup on, he’s going to be all grossed out and run away? It doesn’t work that way, Delaney. If he ran, it was because of something else. I’m sorry, but it was.” Mindy’s voice was softer now, almost consoling. “You’re giving too much credit to that makeover. All it did was give you a few tools. It didn’t change who you are.”
“If not for that makeover, Nick Angel would never have noticed me. Never have pursued me, never have slept with me.” Never have made her fall in love with him.
“Nick didn’t see you before he came on that TV show, Delaney. He responded to your review. To your critique of his writing.”
“He flirted, he teased and challenged me. He made those bets. He wouldn’t have done that if not for the makeover,” Delaney argued, using her worst fears to make her point.
“He wouldn’t have had the opportunity if not for the makeover,” Mindy agreed. “The makeover gave you the confidence to take that TV gig, to debate with him and to stand your ground when faced with a sexy guy you’d had a fan-girl crush on for years.”
“You make it sound like he’d have been just as drawn to me if he’d met the frumpy me in tweed.” Delaney rolled her eyes at the concept. Yeah, right. Nick Angel, the hottest, sexiest man on earth, attracted to the hideous mess she’d been.
“You’re right. He wouldn’t have looked twice at you in your frumpy persona.” Mindy’s easy agreement surprised Delaney, given the direction she’d thought the argument was going. Wasn’t this supposed to be a build-her-back-up talk? “But only because you didn’t deem yourself worthy of being looked at.”
“Huh?” Delaney crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her foot in agitation.
“Delaney, you hid behind your tweed. You excelled in academics because it was expected of you, but that’s it. Anything else would have been a risk.”
The blonde lifted her finger to her mouth, then dropped it to her lap. She gave Delaney a commiserating look and shrugged. “Maybe it’s easier to let yourself be invisible than it is to take a chance at being,
well…rejected?”
Her immediate inclination was to sneer and suggest Mindy bone up on her psych classes. Next she’d be diagnosing an Oedipal complex and recommend Delaney reconnect with her inner child.
But she couldn’t get the words out through the tightness in her chest. Tears—apparently she still had a few—filled her eyes.
Before she had to come up with a response, the dean strode into the office. She’d never been so grateful to see her father. Delaney opened her mouth to greet him, but he just gave her an absent nod and continued past her to his office.
Invisible, yet again.
“No,” she said aloud. She looked at Mindy, who had a “well, what’re you waiting for” look on her face. What was she waiting for? A miracle?
“Hold any calls,” she told the blonde as she followed her father into his hallowed sanctum.
“Do you have a minute?” she asked out of habit when she entered his office.
The dean’s startled look quickly changed to impatience. “Delaney? What are you doing here? Is there a problem?”
His tone made it clear if there was, he’d prefer she deal with it herself. Well, fine. She was dealing. Even though the well-trained part of her wanted to pacify her father, since that was the only way she ever earned his approval, the newly empowered part of her refused to back down.
“I need to talk to you,” she told him.
“Did you check with my assistant about an appointment?”
“I’m here to talk to you now,” she corrected carefully.
His sigh was heavy and loaded. Rather than her usual guilt at the sound, she only felt irritation. He was her father, dammit. But more, he was her boss and as a valued employee, she deserved respect.
With a lift of her chin, Delaney sat in the chair opposite her father, crossing one leg over the other. His disapproving look at her jeans didn’t even faze her.
“Very well,” he agreed. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m here to let you know I’ll be coming before the hiring committee this week, and I intend to get the position.”
Surprise apparently struck him dumb, since he just stared for ten entire seconds. Had she never stood up to him before? Delaney was ashamed to realize perhaps she hadn’t.