One-Night Man

by Jeanie London

  Josh retrieved his borrowed costume, inspected the jacket to see if removing the padding without damaging the lining was a possibility. Damn, no luck. He considered ripping it out, anyway, and writing a check to cover the cost of a new costume, but didn't think he'd score any points with Lennon.

  And tonight was all about scoring.

  Marquis de Sade be damned. Milord Spy would be appearing, and he'd be staying close to protect--and seduce--his lady.

  One look at the lady who emerged from the bathroom to the fanfare of Joby's applause convinced Josh that Lennon was going to need some serious protection. Not only from the alleged assailant, but from every man in the building.

  "Damn, Lennon," was all he could say as he gaped at her, though by the glint in her eyes and Joby's dazzling white grin, he guessed his speechlessness was exactly the reaction they'd been going for with her getup. "Damn."

  Poised in the doorway with a sexy smile on her face, Lennon wore nothing but a pair of clear-plastic high heels and a wig of long, chocolate-colored hair that reached almost to her knees. Otherwise, she was gloriously naked, every inch of her bare skin marbled from chin to toe in varying shades of flesh-toned body paint and some sort of shimmery glitter dust.

  Lady Godiva.

  His eyes nearly bulged from their sockets.

  "Bye, kids," Joby said with a cheery wave, before wheeling her bags toward the door. "I'll see myself out. Have fun."

  Have fun?

  A surge of testosterone rendered him immobile.

  Have fun?

  Lennon expected him to let her walk out the door wearing nothing but hair and body paint? She actually expected to make it past the bed? Which meant she placed a lot more faith in his ability to control himself than he did.

  SWITCHING COSTUMES from Elizabeth Bennet to Lady Godiva had been an outrageous move, but Josh's expression relieved any uncertainty Lennon had about appearing publicly in the buff.

  "Do you have a free pocket?" she asked silkily, liking the sultry sound of her voice. "I have no place to put my mints."His eyes looked ready to bug out, and she felt a tingle that made her breasts tighten.

  "I'm not really nude, you know."

  "No?"

  That one word was nothing more than a strangled gurgle. Lennon shook her head, sending a wave of heavy synthetic hair skimming along her sensitive skin.

  "See?" Catching all the hair in her fists, she slowly spun, allowing him to view the full effect of the artwork Joby had just created on her body.

  Joby was a local makeup artist and a personal friend, which was why Lennon had been able to coerce her into tackling this project on such short notice.

  Josh moved in slow motion toward her, reminding Lennon of a moth drawn to a flame and not a man who'd spent the past hours satisfying his carnal appetite.

  He lifted his hand to her, another slow motion effort, and brushed his fingertips across a breast where her nipple should have been. "Where are your--"

  "This is liquid latex. Joby filled in all my gaps. Well, not exactly filled them, more like covered them."

  Slowly circling her, Josh stroked a finger where the cleft between her cheeks had been, smoothed his fingers above her thighs where her silky hair should be.

  His eyes blazed in appreciation for Joby's unique artwork. She'd used liquid latex to create a smooth surface on Lennon's body, then marbled varying shades of beige before sealing the effect with glittery gold dust.

  Her artwork was exquisite and Lennon was pleased. By Joby's quick work, and Josh's reaction.

  "Men are going to be all over you trying to decide if you're naked or not." He couldn't seem to drag his gaze away.

  Lennon let the hair go, effectively shielding herself and making the choice for him.

  "I'm not naked." But she wasn't exactly not naked, either. "You look handsome yourself. Not like a linebacker in drag."

  That seemed to jerk him from his daze, and those deep green eyes shot up to meet hers. "And the point of all this is..."

  "To make you drool."

  He grabbed her hand--a brief glance at it seemed to register that even her fingers had been painted--and brought it to his crotch. "Mission accomplished."

  And so it was. His erection strained against the tight trousers. Lennon smiled. "Oh my, he's ready, already? I think this decision to have a fling with you is a winner."

  Josh growled.

  Lennon handed him her mints.

  Before they could leave for the masque, though, he insisted on calling the museum to speak with security.

  Lennon watched the time, not particularly caring that they were running late. She was far too excited about spending the next few hours building the erotic tension with Josh. Carefully, she affixed her mask on her face, a cocoa-velvet half mask that she'd stolen from the Elizabeth Bennet costume.

  Let Auntie Q greet the guests. After all, she'd encouraged Lennon to include grand passion in her life, and grand passion made it hard to stick to a schedule.

  "The police are still conducting their investigation," Josh said, turning toward her and stopping abruptly as if the sight of her had distracted him from his train of thought. "And another letter turned up."

  "Are you concerned?" she prompted.

  "You'll stay close to me tonight, so you'll be safe."

  Josh covered the distance between them, caught her chin in his hand and tipped her face upward. "I'll be protecting you from men tonight, chere. Who's going to protect you from me?"

  "Who says I want to be protected?"

  He met her challenge with a sexy grin, but before she had a chance to react, he'd grabbed her and pulled her against him. "Good thing, since I won't be able to keep my hands off you."

  Suddenly his hands were everywhere, skimming down her back, cupping her backside and pulling her so close that despite the latex, Lennon could feel firm muscles capture all her soft spots and hug them tight.

  "We're going to dance tonight," she said, captivated by the feel of him against her. "A lot."

  He peered down at her, his gaze charged as he took in her mask and wig, before settling on her lips. "A lot."

  "We might shock the other guests."

  "They'll be jealous." Josh released her. "Let's go. The sooner we get down there, the sooner we get back."

  "Be still my heart," Lennon said, and meant it.

  Then they were hurrying into the courtyard toward the main hotel, their costumes drawing glances from the passersby. The night air rippled Lennon's wig and caressed her skin, making her hope Joby was right that the latex would hide little telltale signs of her nakedness, like nipple erections.

  Entering the grand ballroom was like stepping into a street scene at Carnival. Walls were draped in swaths of purple and scarlet silk, showcasing elaborate grinning jesters, a gold-bangled gypsy, a laughing reveler masked in yellow feathers. The stunning decorations replicated Auntie Q's opulent sketches.

  Music and laughter floated through the room, and the atmosphere seemed to have lured the guests into a partying mood. People mingled and danced in a multicolored blur of satin and silk garments from a melange of eras, their identities hidden beneath both traditional and more fanciful masks.

  Upholstered armchairs clustered along the fringes of the ballroom in welcoming groups, circled curtained nooks where professional fortune tellers garbed as gypsies read palms and Tarot cards.

  As Josh had predicted, his and Lennon's arrival didn't go unnoticed.

  Searching glances and whispers of "Lady Godiva!" followed in their wake. Josh tucked Lennon close to his side.

  "I'm not the only one drooling." His jaw clenched tight.

  Lennon only smiled, fake bravado because she was suddenly very grateful for the mask and all the hair that protected her identity--at least until she met up with Auntie Q, and everyone guessed who she was.

  Was it possible to avoid the hostess all night?

  Not with Olaf standing head and shoulders above the crowd. He'd spot her in an instant--if he hadn't
already--as easily as she'd noticed him in his powdered wig and habit a la francaise from Casanova's exiled years. His costume made him the perfect foil to Auntie Q's Madame de Pompadour.

  Besides, feeling decadent was the whole point, Lennon reminded herself, plastering a smile on her face and giving herself permission to revel in the attention. With Josh holding her close and her body still tingling from the effects of their lovemaking, she felt very decadent indeed.

  She'd once written about a brazen heroine, a woman whose every action had mirrored a confidence Lennon would have loved to possess in real life. She would be that heroine tonight.

  The whole point was to entice Josh, and judging by the predatory gleam in his eyes as they meandered through the crowd, smiling and greeting guests on their way to find Auntie Q, she'd accomplished her objective big time.

  As she'd guessed, Auntie Q was delighted with her costume. Beneath a pearl-studded mask, her blue eyes twinkled when she caught sight of them.

  "Oh, my dears," she said, grabbing Lennon's hands and surveying her and Josh with a smile. "What happened to Elizabeth Bennet?"

  "She's hanging in the closet."

  "She was too blase for this masque, anyway. Lady Godiva is perfect. I can't think of too many noblewomen who'd take off their clothes to support the arts. But why the change of heart?" She glanced sharply at Josh. "Did you manage the job?"

  "Now, Miss Q, you know as well as I do it wouldn't be heroic to kiss and tell."

  Auntie Q clearly interpreted that statement to mean he'd definitely kissed, whether he told or not, because she squeezed Lennon's hands tightly and actually giggled. "I'm so pleased. You look simply exquisite, dear. Joby?"

  Lennon nodded, though she could tell Auntie Q was trying her level best to read her mind. "You look lovely yourself."

  And she did. She'd dressed in an elaborate blue-and-rose creation with a pearl-studded mask, portraying Madame de Pompadour, King Louis XV's mistress, the art patroness who'd distributed such royal largesse to painters, sculptors and writers during her lifetime.

  That Madame de Pompadour had remained on good terms with the royal family and lived with them all her adult life was a point Auntie Q couldn't resist making for anyone well versed in history enough to make the connection between Madame de Pompadour and herself.

  "She has such a beautiful body, doesn't she, Josh Three?" Auntie Q was saying. "I've been telling her since she was sixteen to make the most of it. I'm just glad she's finally taken my advice before she's too old to enjoy it."

  "Me, too." Josh swept his gaze from her head to her toes in one appreciative glance that didn't go unnoticed by her great-aunt, who was so pleased she actually reached up and pinched his cheek. "And who are you tonight?"

  "The Marquis de Sade," Lennon said.

  "Milord Spy." Josh ignored her.

  "Oh, I don't believe I recognize that name."

  "He's a hero from one of Lennon's books," he explained.

  Olaf just rolled his eyes, but Auntie Q's gaze flitted between them, and Lennon could tell she was trying hard not to laugh. "So you want to be Lennon's hero, Josh Three. How romantic. You're so much like your grandfather." She fixed Lennon with a laser-blue stare. "Let him sweep you away. He'll inspire you, and you'll hit the New York Times bestseller list."

  "Don't sweep her too far," Olaf warned. "Someone stuffed another letter under our suite door. I already called the hotel manager, and it wasn't delivered by any of the staff."

  "I talked to hotel security," Josh said. "Was it a protest or a threat?"

  "A threat." Olaf patted his waist, presumably alerting Josh to whatever weapon he had stuffed there.

  "Oh, phoo. Enough with the threats already," Auntie Q said with a dramatic wave of her fan. "Ta-ta, dears, go dance and have fun. Oh, and have your fortunes read, too. Tell the fortune teller to take a break while you use the cubby to, er, get to know each other better."

  Olaf shuffled from one foot to another, avoiding Lennon's glare, but Josh seemed to take the teasing in stride and bent down to kiss Auntie Q on her cheek. "It's no wonder my grandfather loved you, Miss Q. You're one of a kind."

  "New Orleans couldn't possibly survive two of her." Lennon let Josh lead her away, still scowling.

  "I don't doubt it, charity case, but trust me when I tell you that a little mischief never hurt anyone."

  Lennon opened her mouth to argue, but Josh swung her onto the dance floor and into his arms before she could get a word out, and all thoughts of families and society fled in the wake of his hard body against hers.

  "Mmm, you're such a wonderful dancer." She followed easily as he whirled her among the dancing couples, their bodies pressed a little too close for propriety, his thigh intruding between hers just a little too forcibly to be a casual touch. "Do you find much time to dance while you're tracking down bad guys or is all this skill left over from the days when you were forced to attend those boring parties you mentioned?"

  Lennon wanted to know. She wasn't sure when or why knowing about Josh had become so important, but suddenly she was overwhelmed with the need to know about this man who could protect her from bodily harm one moment, then make love to her the next. He was such a contradiction. One minute he offered to find her a husband and the next he twirled her around the dance floor as though she was the only woman in the room.

  "Scoping out bridegrooms?" he asked conversationally.

  "Excuse me?"

  Lennon glanced up and saw nothing at all conversational about his tight expression. Josh really didn't like her looking at other men when she was with him, and his possessiveness sent a dark thrill through her.

  "No, actually, I wasn't looking for bridegrooms. I was admiring that man's costume and trying to decide if he's dressed as Cupid or Eros." Which wasn't entirely true, as she'd been thinking about Josh. But she wouldn't admit that to him.

  "What's the difference?" Josh snorted. "He's dressed in a sheet with puffy white wings."

  Lennon found herself momentarily distracted when Josh abruptly changed direction, twirling her lightly away from the bare-chested bachelor with wings. She supposed, now that he mentioned it, the costume was rather feminine....

  "His name's Jake Hanlon," he informed her tersely.

  "Oh, the bachelor from the dot-com sector. How can you tell? His mask covers his entire face."

  "The shiny skin around his upper arm."

  "Oh, Jake Hanlon has shiny skin around his upper arm? I don't remember reading that in his bio."

  "You didn't." His gaze pierced through the black velvet mask covering half his face. "One of his credit cards recorded a transaction for a tattoo removal at Doc Linc's office."

  "Doc Linc, hmm?" Lennon was more impressed with Josh's powers of observation than she was with the information. Women who were looking for husbands didn't wear liquid latex instead of clothes in public, and if Josh had really been paying attention, he might have noticed.

  While she didn't want to hear about another man while wrapped in Josh's arms, she felt it only right to rally a decent response, since he was making such an obvious effort to help her. "Jake Hanlon, huh? He's big bucks."

  "Yeah, but it's a mystery what he does with it all."

  "A mystery?"

  "He's the CEO of a very lucrative company, but doesn't have two nickels to rub together."

  "Really? What's he doing with all his money?"

  Josh maneuvered her even farther away from the winged bachelor in question. "My guess is that money burns a hole in his pocket. His portfolio's pathetic for a man raking in the kind of numbers he does annually. From what I've gleaned from his profile, he's an erratic spender--expensive trips, fancy cars, in and out of houses at whim, tattoos--nothing sinister."

  "Well, I won't marry a man who can't handle his money," Lennon said decidedly. "Financial responsibility is important."

  "Given his family connections, I don't think you or the kids would starve. That is, of course, provided he's not trying to hurt you or Miss Q."
>
  "Do you think he's the one?"

  Josh shrugged. "Money can be a powerful motive."

  "But what could he possibly hope to gain?"

  "Maybe he wants to marry into your family."

  "Throwing a grenade at my great-aunt sounds like a surefire way to attract me." The man couldn't be serious. One glance at his deadpan expression clued Lennon in on his game. A game two could play. "You'll just have to catch him and send him to jail then, because financial pressure can put too much stress on a marriage. I'll keep looking, thank you."

  Josh appeared satisfied by her announcement, but before Lennon had a chance to dwell on why this silly game should please him, raised voices from the nearby ballroom entrance caught her attention.

  She peered around him to check out the commotion, and judging by the crush of tuxedoed shoulders barring the entrance, guessed exactly what the trouble was.

  "Gate-crashers." She stepped out of the circle of Josh's arms. "I don't see Auntie Q and Olaf. Let's deal with it."

  Josh led her toward the entrance just as one of the bouncers he'd arranged to have posted at the entrance moved to shut the door.

  "What's the problem?" Josh asked, stepping neatly in front of Lennon, blocking the door from closing and shielding her bodily.

  "No invitations," the burly bouncer said, motioning for Josh to either come through the door or to back up so he could close it. "Don't want to disturb the guests."

  "My name is on that guest list, young man," an authoritative voice declared.

  Lennon didn't recognize the voice, but she recognized Josh's reaction. His body tightened to full alert, with that same wariness she recognized from their flight through the Quarter earlier.

  Glancing up at him, she watched the color drain from his face below the edge of his mask, and concerned, she stepped out from behind him--to find herself staring at a steely-haired, scowling woman she'd seen only in pictures.

  Josh's grandmother.

  13

  "CLOSE THAT DOOR," Josh ordered the bouncer, while he braced an arm around Lennon, pulling her near before she unwittingly stepped into the line of fire.