Show and Tell

by Isabelle Drake

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Show and Tell

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Show and Tell Copyright © 2009 Isabelle Drake.

  Edited by Helen Woodall.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  Electronic book Publication March 2009

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Show and Tell

  Isabelle Drake

  Dedication

  For Barb, who has been encouraging me to tell stories ever since that day on the fence.

  Acknowledgements

  With thanks to Gretchen and John, for their hospitality.

  Chapter One

  Nothing to Lose

  Emily climbed the gritty Metro steps, slipped to the side of the packed Georgetown sidewalk and for the third time since leaving her apartment peeked into her magenta satin bag. Of course, everything was still there—two short coils of soft, white rope, a black scarf and, of course, her phone. Along with the two lavender scarves tied around her waist, she had everything she needed.

  Her ring tone hit the air just as she was about to tug the drawstring tight, so she pulled her cell out, checking the display as she headed south, toward the Potomac. “Hey, Jenn.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Georgetown.”

  “Duh. I meant are you there yet?”

  Talking to her best friend meant she could tell the truth. “If I was there, I wouldn’t have answered.” Rushing forward to catch the crosswalk light, Emily added, “I’m about six blocks from Gino’s now.”

  “Then what’s all that noise?”

  “It’s Friday night. What do you expect?”

  “Oh my God—you’re on the street. You didn’t take a cab?”

  “Why would I take a cab?” she replied, hopping up the curb.

  “Are you wearing—wearing…”

  “My costume?” Emily glanced down at the silky combination of gold, lavender and pink. Tiny bells jangled from her slippers and her skin flashed in the golden rays of early evening autumn sun. “Sure, I’m wearing it. It’s DC, nothing is scandalous.”

  “But…”

  Laughing, Emily imaged Jenn’s expression. “It’s no big deal.”

  “That top is so low and with that half corset on—”

  Emily glanced down. Jenn was right and her friend knew because she’d designed the outfit to show off what Emily recently realized was the best she had to offer—her DDs—and disguise what she still considered her fatal flaw—her too curvy hips. Looking like a sex slave had been the exact point of the outfit but she hadn’t completely lost her mind. “I have the jacket buttoned.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Emily grinned at Jenn’s obvious relief. “Stop worrying about me.” She turned off M and headed up a steep side street. “I have everything under control. I know what I’m doing.”

  “So you keep saying. Over and over. Is it me or yourself you’re trying to convince?”

  Emily veered around a cluster of soccer kids then paused next to a mailbox. “I’ve got my mind made up. I’m not backing out now.”

  “But what if—”

  “I’ll never get a chance like this again. I’ll get what I want and Randy will never know it was me. Nobody gets hurt. See? It’s perfect.”

  Thoughtful silence buzzed across the line, until Jenn finally conceded. “Okay. I guess. But be careful.”

  “I thought you creative types were supposed to be wild.” Emily waited for a trio of moms with overloaded strollers to roll past then pushed away from the mailbox. “All I have to do is look for the sheik with the green and blue sash and huge gold-handled knife thing.”

  “And call me first thing in the morning.”

  Emily agreed to give her friend most of the details, then clicked off and marched toward Gino’s, tucking the ties of the pink and lavender veil that covered her slim mask into her braids as she went.

  Randall Kentworth didn’t stand a chance.

  * * * * *

  “Gino, do I really have to keep this mask on?” Daniel Warren tapped the gray mask Gino had forced on him as soon as he crossed his threshold.

  “Yes, it’s my only rule.”

  Daniel made a show of scanning the crowded room. “Only?”

  “Okay,” Gino flashed his famous grin. “The mask and the costume.”

  “And that guests stick to the theme…”

  “Okay, I get your point. There are rules.” Gino raised his bourbon. “But everyone loves it.”

  Daniel smirked, gazing across the boisterous crowd—all dressed according to the assigned theme Hot Desert Nights. There were handfuls of women in different variations of skimpy skirts and tiny tops that must have been their interpretation of what harem girls wore, some guys in WWII British army uniforms and several people dressed in traditional African clothing.

  “What do you have to complain about? Thanks to Randall you didn’t even have to get a costume together.”

  Daniel tugged on his green and blue sash, shaking his head. “A sheik? Why am I not surprised?”

  “His loss is your gain, so shut up and have a good time.” Gino emptied his glass. “And because Randall made such an enormous deal about his costume being perfectly authentic, everyone in DC will think you’re him…so if you make an ass of yourself…”

  Daniel laughed, lifting his beer, “I could see this as my chance to get back at him for every arrogant thing he ever said. And did. Tempting but you know that’s not my style.”

  “Just an option if you get bored,” Gino said, setting his empty glass on a nearby table before continuing, “One more thing, do at least try not to look as though you’re pining.”

  “Fuck off,” Daniel replied, then unable to help himself asked, “You sure Emily isn’t coming?”

  “Sorry to disappoint but I’m sure. Jenn says she’s not due back until next month.” Stepping into the crowd, he added over his shoulder, “There are plenty more here. Go find one.”

  * * * * *

  “Invitation, please.”

  Emily handed over the elaborate card Jenn had received in the mail and waited while the bare-chested muscleman checked her friend’s name off the list on his clipboard. Sure, she could’ve used the card Gino had sent her but she didn’t want to leave a trail. “Thank you, Miss McNeil.”

  Two steps later she was inside Gino’s large and lavish apartment, instantly becoming one of the mass. Although almost everyone there probably worked for the Smithsonian, Emily didn’t even try to guess who was behind which mask. There would be time later to catch up with old friends.

  That particular night
she had only one item on her to-do list. Seduce then reject the infamous Randall Kentworth. If she did a thorough enough job, she’d leave him panting, wondering pointlessly who the hot woman in the gold brocade jacket was.

  As she slid through the mob, scanning for her prey, something rubbery caressed her waist. She twisted to find a huge cactus staring at her.

  “Can I get you a beer?” it shouted, holding up a half full plastic cup.

  Emily pulled the plant’s other hand off her waist, still gawking at the insanely large Saguaro cactus, complete with a cluster of yellow flowers and bird’s nest. “A cactus?”

  The blue eyes hiding inside the plant blinked and the muffled voice shouted in defense, “Hey, there are cactuses in the desert.”

  Emily grinned. Museum people. Always looking for ways to prove how clever they are. “I’m meeting someone,” she said but then to let him know she appreciated the offer, patted the tiny wren sitting in the nest.

  As the giant plastic cactus melted into the crowd, Emily made her way toward the backyard where Gino always put the keg. Randall would be there, surrounded by an adoring mob. Unbuttoning her jacket as she went, she mused, all I have to do is wait until he’s alone.

  Once she was done with him he’d know what it was like to want someone you couldn’t have. Her own hopeless wanting was undoubtedly worse than anything he’d end up with, because she’d watched the object of her desire flirt with every female in his path—with the exception of her. He hadn’t even known she’d existed.

  That had mostly been her own fault. She’d been too shy even to be considered coy. She’d been damn invisible.

  But that was then.

  One thing her term in the Peace Corps had done for her was take away that life-ruining shyness. Who has time for hesitation when trying to find lost medical supplies through an interpreter?

  Twelve months might only be a year but because of her time away Emily’s life was spilt into before—when she had been quiet and unassuming—and now, when she was demanding and pushy enough to make up for the time she’d wasted waiting for what she wanted to come and find her.

  That was why she was there.

  To make up for a mistake of her past.

  But was it that she wanted to leave him with a sense of longing or was it that she finally wanted to get a piece of that yummy body?

  Either way, she had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

  Chapter Two

  Silk Binds

  Daniel was half-heartedly enjoying the attention of a petite redhead doing her best to snare him when he spotted a girl strutting toward the keg. There were a lot of harem girls in the crowd but this one stood out.

  Tiny bells dangled from her head and toes and sheer material skimmed over her body. The fabric was almost see-through. It was thin enough to make a guy keep staring, hoping it would suddenly melt away.

  When she bent down to fill a cup with beer, the rounded swells of her breasts swayed, pushing against the thin fabric of her top, showing off a tight pair of nipples.

  The little thing who’d been draping herself across him must’ve noticed his drifting attention, because she shoved herself forward, nestling herself between his legs and murmuring, “Wanna make a bet about whether or not I can fit your whole cock in my mouth?”

  Instantly, his penis swelled, the tip grazing the seam of the satin pants. She leaned in and grinned, delighted that he’d become so hard so fast.

  The pressure of her eager body and the tantalizing vision of the harem girl’s curves was a hell of a combination. His body concocted the possibility of having both of them at the same time.

  For a mouth-watering few seconds he let the image of him pounding his cock into the little one’s pussy while he sucked on the other girl’s big breasts turn vivid in his mind but the saner part of his brain shut him down. Fantasies like that were a juvenile response to him blaming the girl of his wet dreams for hurting him when it had been his own fault for not doing anything to make her notice him.

  Thank God he no longer lived in the shadows.

  Regrets were only part of the reason he gave up on the idea. The harem girl moved like a woman who wasn’t about to share the spotlight with anyone. And with a lush body like hers, why should she?

  Unlike the redhead, who’d started tucking her little fingers under his sash, rubbing her flat stomach against his fully erect shaft. “You’re long and hard like your knife, aren’t you?”

  He took another unhurried, hungry look at the harem girl in the gold brocade. Would she smell sweet and innocent, like pears and vanilla, or heavy and intense, like cinnamon?

  The harem girl noticed his staring and paused beside the keg to take a long, deliberate sip of her drink. Her swallow was full of promise.

  Or was that his own wishful thinking?

  There was only one way to find out.

  “You’re tempting,” he said to the redhead molded against his tense crotch, “But I’ve got—”

  “Randy,” she whined, pressing a finger to his chin as she licked her slick pink lips. “You prom—”

  “I’m not Randy, baby.” Daniel curved his palms around her waist and gently set her aside. “Sorry but he couldn’t make it.”

  She stumbled as she moved back, her disappointed gaze moving up and down his borrowed costume. “But, you—I…”

  Daniel nuzzled her cheek, gave her a quick kiss on the temple, then brushed past her, heading straight to the keg—and the sexy harem girl beside it.

  As Randall stalked toward her, all Emily could think was thank God her face was covered by both the mask and veil. There was no way she would have the nerve to go through with her plan if he had any way of figuring out who she was.

  Instead of doing what she used to, rounding her shoulders to hide her big breasts and sinking back with insecurity, Emily lifted her chin and gazed directly at him as he took the last few steps to the keg.

  “Do I need your permission to get some beer?” he asked, leaning close enough so he didn’t have to raise his voice over the music.

  “Permission? No but you do have to barter.” She gazed up at him from under her veil. “You have to offer me something.”

  “Offer you something, huh?” he replied, his hard stare making her nerve endings tingle.

  He set his hand on the side of the keg, his heat pressing against her, making a curl of lust swirl in her core.

  “That’s right.” She took her time, enjoying that heat flickering inside her as she traced the gold piping outlining of his sheik’s costume before adding, “What do you have to offer?”

  He shifted away from the stack of cups, braced himself on the edge of the keg and angled over her to stare down at the tops of her exposed breasts. “It seems to me, harem girl, you have things all wrong,” he replied, copying her motion to caress the swells of her breasts. His fingertips were damp from touching the icy keg and droplets of clear water rolled down the side of her breasts.

  She pulled in a deep breath. His throat flexed as he swallowed.

  How many times had she daydreamed about having him look at her that way? Like he wanted to eat her alive then come back for seconds.

  A thrill of female power poured over her like a warm spring rain. She was more than ready to get soaked.

  “I have things all wrong? What do you mean?” She placed her fingers on his neck, skimming her way down the powerful muscles.

  “Harem girls serve the master,” he replied, a smile pulling on his lips. “Not the other way around.”

  “Are you a master?” she asked, letting her thumb glide across the strong, steady beat of his pulse.

  His gaze came back to her eyes. “How do you know Gino?”

  He must have noticed her surprise because he added, “Do you work at the Smithsonian?”

  “No,” she replied sweetly, hoping to cut off his line of questioning. Then for good measure, added, “I don’t work there.”

  “You don’t hang out there?”

  Who knew t
he notorious Randy Randall was so careful? “I haven’t been to the museum in almost a year.”

  His voice dropped as he said, “I’m glad.”

  “You don’t like museums?” Or maybe he had some poor intern on the line and wanted to be sure she didn’t rat him out and ruin his fun.

  “It isn’t that. I only wanted to make sure you weren’t looking for someone else.” He glanced over her shoulder at a group of guys dressed in khaki shorts and white linen shirts. “And I wanted to be sure that no one was going to come looking for you.”

  “No worries. I’m just, here.” She tipped her head, letting lose tendrils of hair skim over her bare shoulder. “But what about you?”

  He tensed but only for a heartbeat. “I came here looking for…”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Well, I was looking for some girl I used to work with.”

  “And?”

  “It’s nothing. Someone I had a crush on who didn’t even know I existed.” His lips thinned and he turned away, looking like he wished he’d kept his mouth shut.

  Despite her resentment with him for ignoring her, she knew how bad it felt to be overlooked. “Tell me her name,” she said softly, tugging on the glossy collar of his shirt. “I need to tell her thanks for being too dumb to notice you.”

  He reached out and grabbed her waist. “Forget her.”

  “Right. We should get back to what we were talking about before,” she murmured, pressing her breasts against him, noticing his jutting cock.

  “Even though you’re wrong?” he asked, not embarrassed that she knew he was so turned on.

  She glanced up, a challenging smile tugging on her mouth. As she wiggled slightly making his erection bob, she asked, “I’m wrong about you being a master?”

  “No, you’re not wrong about that.” He tightened his grip on her waist and guided her away from the keg.

  “You have a way to prove that?” she asked, brushing her fingertips across his thigh as he led her to the edge of the crowd.