by Lori Wilde
“You’re ditching the class.” Quint sat up straighter in his chair.
“No,” Taylor said. “We have thirty-seven men signed up for your course. Enrollment has skyrocketed since you took over the class, Quint.”
“I told you he was a natural-born charmer,” Dougal said.
“He’s hot,” Taylor agreed. “You have that nice blend of boyish charm and manly audacity that women thrive on. If you weren’t working for Dougal, I’d hire you in a heartbeat.”
Quint felt a twin surge of pride and embarrassment. Truth was, he enjoyed playing Casanova, but he was also a bit sheepish about it. He shrugged. “Aw, shucks, ma’am, it’s nothing.”
“See, right there.” Taylor pointed. “That’s what I’m talking about. You know you’re handsome but you have a way about you that says you don’t take it too seriously.”
“Life’s too short to take it seriously.”
“Exactly.”
“So if you’re not replacing Gwen with a new actress and you’re not canceling the course, who is Casanova going to demonstrate his seduction techniques on?”
“Me,” Taylor said.
Quint gulped. The woman scared him. “You?”
“I’m very happily married,” Taylor said. “I’m immune to your charms.”
“Maybe,” Quint protested, “but Casanova’s romance is going to look like the put-up job it is if anyone recognizes you.”
“Do you have a better idea?” Dougal asked.
He thought of Jorgie. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Taylor leaned back in her chair. “I’m all ears.”
“An old friend of mine just happens to be staying at the resort,” Quint said. “I’ve known her since we were teenagers. We’re just friends, it’s never been anything more, and she’s here nursing a broken heart. I think she’d be the perfect person to play Casanova’s conquest.”
“Hmm.” Taylor studied him pensively. “It’s a thought.”
“Do you think she’ll do it?” Dougal asked.
“I’m having dinner with her tonight. I’ll ask,” he said, searching for anything to keep from having to try out Casanova’s power of seduction on Taylor.
“I don’t know,” Taylor mused. “This could cause you some trouble in your relationship with her.”
“Don’t worry,” Quint said. “I see her as nothing more than a kid sister.”
“Well, then.” Taylor beamed. “We settled that easier than I thought.”
Dougal called the head of resort security, Frank Lavoy, a barrel-chested man in his mid-forties who’d worked under Dougal in the air force, into the office for the rest of the meeting. Dougal launched into the heightened security protocol he was instituting at the resorts and his expectations from Quint and Frank.
Quint listened, nodded, absorbed the information, but in the back of his mind, his thoughts were on Jorgie. He could see one major flaw in his plan.
One huge obstacle loomed. He’d flat-out lied to Taylor. He had the hots for the woman who’d once been the pigtailed sister of his best friend. He hadn’t counted on getting an opportunity to practice Casanova’s seduction techniques on her and he found himself wondering just how far he could push the envelope.
Just then, a knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” Taylor called out.
The door opened and an older, heavyset man with gray hair stepped over the threshold, a well-dressed woman in her early sixties by his side. “Hey there, princess,” he said.
“Chuck, Mitzi.” Taylor’s face dissolved into a welcoming grin. She hopped from behind the desk and went to hug the couple. “What are you doing here?”
“We were in Rome,” Mitzi said, “and Chuck remembered it was your birthday so we called your office and your sweet little secretary told us you were here, so of course we had to come to Venice. We haven’t seen you since your wedding! How’s Daniel?”
“Fabulous,” Taylor said, referring to her new husband.
“We’re taking you out to dinner,” Chuck announced.
“Dougal, Quint.” Taylor gestured. “This is General Charles Miller and his wife, Mitzi. Dear friends of the family.”
Quint and Dougal shook first General Miller’s hand and then his wife’s.
“Chuck and Mitzi are my godparents. They’re the aunt and uncle I never had,” Taylor explained.
“Any leads on who could be making those threats?” Mitzi asked.
Taylor sighed. “Not so far.”
General Miller glowered. “Have you considered changing the direction of your resorts?”
“Meaning what?” Taylor asked.
The general shrugged. “Perhaps this person or persons would back off if your resorts weren’t so…” He paused and Quint could tell he was choosing his words carefully. “Controversial.”
Taylor sank her hands on her hips. “Are you suggesting I allow someone to threaten me into abandoning the business model that’s made me so successful?”
“It might have made you successful—” Miller stiffened and his eyes narrowed “—but it’s also made you a target. If your father was alive—”
“My father would be amazed that I’ve tripled the net worth of his airline in six short years,” Taylor interrupted. “I know you don’t approve of the concept of Eros resorts, Chuck, but I believe I provide a much-needed service, which my profits bear out.”
“My,” Mitzi said in a loud voice, clearly trying to change the hot topic of conversation, and cast her gaze over Quint. “Don’t you look dashing.”
“He’s Casanova,” Taylor said.
General Miller’s face darkened. “The famous libertine.”
He sounded so gruff, Quint rushed to point out, “It’s just a costume. Some fun role-playing for the guests.”
The general frowned, reminding Quint why he left the air force. Too much rank and discipline for his tastes.
“Well, I don’t know about you, Taylor,” Mitzi said, intervening again, “but I’m starving.” She looked at her husband. “I made reservations for six-thirty and it’s after six. Maybe we should be going.”
“I’m ready.” Taylor linked her arm through the general’s and she and Mitzi escorted him out.
5
When in doubt, do the unexpected
—Make Love Like a Courtesan
AT SEVEN-THIRTY, Jorgie put the finishing touches on her makeup in the bathroom of her courtesan-inspired suite and then walked into the lavish sitting area done up in rich fabrics, heavy furniture and lushly detailed tapestries. She could see how courtesans had thrived in such sensual surrounds. The thick textures compelled the fingertips. Velvet cushions stretched over smooth, hard mahogany chairs. Intricately woven brocade pillows. Shimmering golden threads sewn through burgundy damask.
But the sensory appeal of the room did not stop with the tactile.The room smelled of love, as well. Real flowers adorned numerous vases—roses and stargazer lilies and baby’s breath scented the room with the sweet aroma of courtship. Their tender buds were like secret sex organs, releasing their aromatic juices into the air.
Heady stuff.
Jorgie, feeling unnerved and overwhelmed, retrieved her cell phone from her purse and then sank down on the couch that hugged her in an opulent embrace and called Avery.
Her friend answered. “Hello?”
“Hey, you,” Jorgie said.
“What’s up?” She yawned again.
Jorgie pushed a strand of errant hair back off her forehead. “I’ve got a date.”
“Already?” Her tone changed a little. She could hear Avery’s grin. “Wow, I should have abandoned you to your own devices a long time ago. So tell me about the lucky guy?”
She hesitated, not sure she wanted to be completely honest with Avery. She worried she’d tease and she didn’t want to be teased about Quint.
“Well?” Avery prodded. “You did call me.”
Jorgie cleared her throat. “It’s Quint Mason.”
“Oooh, the plot thick
ens.”
An emotion she couldn’t name tap-danced around in her head. Jorgie bit down on her index finger. “I’m scared.”
“What about?”
“I like him.”
“And?”
“That’s just it. I like him.”
“Why does that frighten you?”
“Because I know what kind of man he is and I know what kind of woman I am and, well…we don’t match.”
“Hey, this isn’t supposed to be a forever kind of love. This vacation is all about exploring your sexual horizons, and who better to do that with than a man you know and trust, a man who’s not going to get his heart broken when you kiss and part ways at the end of the trip. He’s perfect.”
She thought about having sex with Quint. The image popped too readily into her mind. His hard body pressed against her soft one. “I know, and that’s what scares me. I don’t know if I can have a casual fling. What if I’m just not built that way?”
“Then don’t have sex with him.”
Alarm snapped through her, quick like whiplash. “But I want to have sex with him.”
“Then have sex with him.”
“I don’t want to end up getting hurt.”
Avery sighed. “You think too much. Just go with the flow. Let it be. Let whatever happens be okay. Insert your carefree adage here. You can do this.”
How very Zen. Maybe if she thought about numbers that would help. Numbers calmed her. They were rational, expected, no surprise with numbers. No emotions, either. She took a deep breath. “Thanks for talking me down.”
“No problem.”
“So how are things in L.A.?”
“Hmm,” Avery said, “they’re a bit frustrating.”
“How so?”
“I spied a guy I was interested in on the plane. In fact, he’s a cameraman for Eros. I asked him out for dinner, but he told me he wasn’t interested.”
“And you took no for an answer?”
“Well, for now.”
“He won’t know what hit him.” Jorgie chuckled. “I’ll let you go. Be safe.”
“You, too.”
She’d just switched off her phone when a knock sounded on her door. She went to peer out the peephole and her stomach did a slow slide to her shoes.
Quint. Looking exceedingly handsome in a suit and tie. How come he was picking her up? They were just supposed to meet in the dining hall. And why was he wearing a suit. Feeling self-conscious that she hadn’t dressed up enough, Jorgie ran a hand over the front of her simple cotton dress, dithering about whether to go change or not.
He knocked again.
Don’t just stand there with your mouth open, Avery’s voice said inside her head. Let the man in.
Taking a deep breath to steady her jangled nerves, she opened the door. Quint met her with a grin and his patented come-hither gaze, his dark hair combed back off his forehead. He smelled of soap and crisp green apples.
The minute he saw her, his eyes flashed like hot licorice. He raked his eyes over her dress. “Wow, you look great in green.”
“Is it okay? I didn’t realize dinner was so dressy, I mean you’re in a suit and—”
“You’re perfect,” he said, and extended his elbow to her. “Ready to go down to dinner?”
“Um…yes, you didn’t have to come fetch me, you know.”
“I know,” he said warmly.
They went downstairs to the elegant dining room. The buffet spread out before them was a feast for an entire kingdom—prime rib and roasted chicken and braised pork tenderloin. Vegetables of every variety served as delicious side dishes—purple eggplant in a coating of parmesan cheese, sautéed red and green bell peppers, tomatoes with buffalo mozzarella, garlic mashed potatoes, baked yams, broad beans swimming in butter, and crunchy salad greens. There was rye bread and pumpernickel and thick yeasty loaves of French bread.
Jorgie loaded up her plate and followed Quint to a small bistro table for two. Most of the other guests were sitting at the long communal table. “We can sit over there with everyone else,” she said.
“I’d like to sit here.” He set down his plate, and then turned to pull out the chair for her. “A little privacy would be nice.”
Oh, wow. Blowing out her breath, she sat and he took his seat across from her.
“There’s something I want to ask you,” he said as she spread her napkin in her lap.
“Uh-huh.”
“The request is a bit unorthodox.”
Was she really ready to get personal and private with him? Jorgie picked up the steak knife and held it with her thumb against the back of the blade. “What’s up?”
“I don’t really know how to broach the subject, so I’m just going to come right out and ask it.”
“Okay.”
“Here’s the deal.” Quint spread his hands out on the table. “I need you to be my plant.”
“Excuse me? Your what?”
“Plant.”
“As in a Benjamin Ficus, ponytail palm, English ivy?”
He laughed. “No, as in someone in a talk show audience who plays off the riffs of the host.”
She frowned. “I’m still not sure what you’re asking of me.”
He threaded a hand through his hair. “I’m not explaining this very well. As an instructor for How To Make Love Like Casanova, I’m expected to show results.”
“Ookay.”
“I have to get a woman to fall in love with me.”
“That shouldn’t be very hard for you to do,” she said, ignoring the weird churning in her stomach and the sudden quickening in the pace of her heartbeat.
“But it would be cruel to just pick someone at random and work Casanova’s charms on her and then just drop her. Plus, there is that morality clause in my contract with Eros,” he mused.
“It would be cruel,” she agreed.
“Which is why Eros hires actors to mingle among the guests. It’s for the instructors to demonstrate their seduction techniques on.”
“Gotcha.”
“My plant quit today,” Quint said. “But by the time we get someone else hired and trained this tour will be half over. So I was wondering, since we’re friends, if you’d be my plant.”
Her feelings took a hit. Like they had in college when a really cute guy she’d been mooning over asked her out and then in the middle of the meal tried to hire her to do his calculus homework. Same deal here. Same sour-stomach sensation.
Quint had asked her to be his plant because he knew she was someone he couldn’t fall in love with. She didn’t know why that bothered her. The man was a drop-dead gorgeous ten and she was a five-and-a-half at best, maybe a six with makeup and the right hair style. But Jorgie kind of liked the little hump on the bridge of her nose.
Maybe that was a mistake, liking her imperfections. Her body wasn’t bad, a size twelve, although she was a little curvier than most of her friends. Nice. She looked nice. Friendly, approachable, but dull as paste.
“You mean you need someone you know you won’t fall in love with,” she said.
“Exactly.” He looked too pleased.
She scowled. “While you want me to fall madly in love with you.”
“Yeah, you know, but not for real, of course, just for show.”
“No worries there,” she said half perkily, half sarcastically, both belying what she was really feeling. Clearly, he wasn’t attracted to her the way she was attracted to him. Why should she be surprised by that? “What do I get out of the deal?”
“I talked to my boss about it. Your trip will be comped.”
Well, that was a deal. An Eros vacation did not come cheap. Jorgie raised a hand. “So let me get this straight. You want me to pretend to fall in love with you, in a public way, in front of the guys you’re teaching pick-up artist techniques to, and for that I get a free vacation?”
“That’s it.” He grinned.
Good thing she was sitting down because her knees suddenly went swimming, warm and weak like m
elted butter.
“But,” he said, “I don’t want you to make it easy for me.”
She cocked her head. “No? Why not?”
“Can’t let it look rigged.”
“It is rigged.”
“Yeah, but we want to maintain the fantasy. Besides, Casanova loves a challenge.”
“Are we talking about Casanova here, or you?”
“Hey, all guys love the thrill of the chase. It’s in our nature.”
“Okay, so what do you want me to do?”
“Act like I just said something repugnant. Jump to your feet, knock over your chair. Call me names, slap me across the face.”
Jorgie narrowed her eyes. “Are you into some kind of secret masochistic kink?”
“No, it’s part of the show.”
The thought of doing what he asked and drawing undue attention to herself made Jorgie’s stomach contract. “I still think it sounds kinky.”
“I didn’t say smack me hard. Just make a scene.”
“I’m not…This doesn’t…”
“You’re embarrassed.”
“Yeah, well, sort of.”
What he did next took her completely by surprise. One minute he was grinning at her impishly, the next minute he was full-on kissing her.
Shock shot through her. Not from his kiss, but from how damn quickly it aroused her. Startled, she jumped to her feet.
“That’s it,” he goaded. “Let me have it for boorishly manhandling you.”
If he wanted her to play the role of his hard-to-get lover, then by gosh, she was playing hard to get. “How dare you,” she yelled.
“Good, good.”
Heads turned. Conversations ground to a dead halt and the fact that they were looking at her caused Jorgie’s cheeks to burn.
“I’ve never been so insulted in my life!” When with that pronouncement, she slapped him lightly across the face, and knocked over a chair as she stormed away.
The room fell dead silent.
Now she knew what it felt like to be a woodland creature crossing the road in the middle of the night just as a sports car zoomed around the corner.
Roadkill.
TWO HOURS LATER, Jorgie lay in bed staring at the ceiling, her entire body tingling. She didn’t want to think about the kiss Quint had given her. She knew it was all for show. But she couldn’t seem to think about anything else.