CardsNeverLie

by Heather Hiestand

  She pulled herself to her feet, holding the handrail for support. Turning, she snaked up the steps before Rob had a chance to react.

  He closed his hand onto her damp, ruined panties, lying on the steps. They were all that remained of the possibilities. He didn’t pursue her. Eventually, he went back through the stairwell door and tossed the shredded garment into the first trashcan he saw. He joined the grandparents and kids and conventioneers in the elevator. Ignoring the stares of the tourists, he pulled out his cell phone again. He needed to get practical and track down Jack to do some damage control. Could they offer Bombshell a settlement before Melanie’s sense of vengeance caused her to sue?

  “Jack? You aren’t going to believe this. I met an adult actress down here who is actually related to Bombshell.” He listened for a second. “Yeah, no kidding. It’s going to get complicated. This actress has a real mad-on for LeatherWorks. We’re going to have to settle this. She’s made accusations.”

  And once Bombshell was taken care of, former porn star or not, Rob was going to reach clarity on the subject of this woman. He’d never met one who intrigued him the way she did. Melanie, or Honey, or whoever she was, made him feel alive. And that was a feeling worth pursuing.

  Chapter Eight

  “She’s a little skittish,” Tommy Joe said to the babe wearing a black leather catsuit as she undid the manacles holding him to the pole. The cuffs had been so comfortable he didn’t even need to rub at his wrists to get the circulation going. He decided to pick himself up a pair during a session break tomorrow since he wouldn’t be able to take a five-finger discount now. No one in this crowd would believe the cuffs the catsuit-clad woman held were his—they matched the other three sets on the display and were probably a new model.

  “I think this is your girlfriend’s,” the woman said, handing him a purse.

  Tommy Joe took it, recognizing the purse as Melanie’s. “Thanks.”

  As he stepped out of the booth, a man in a Hawaiian shirt came up and handed him a card. “I’m with Hula Films. Give me a call.”

  Tommy Joe took the card. “Why?”

  “You’re a fresh face. I don’t think I’ve seen your pictures. Maybe we can work together.”

  They couldn’t be serious. “Thanks.” But no thanks. His brother would kill him if he did a porn movie. He shoved the card into his pocket until his finger touched a smooth surface. The massage oil. Melanie. Where had she gotten to anyway?

  Ignoring the crowd, he left the trade show and went upstairs, but Melanie didn’t answer when he knocked at her door. He frowned and decided to call her from his room. Maybe she was too embarrassed to face him after running away. She shouldn’t be. He liked his women demure, though it did excite him to see a little spice now and then, as long as they didn’t get out of hand.

  She didn’t pick up the phone. “Melanie, it’s Tommy Joe,” he said into voice mail. “It’s okay, I know you’re embarrassed, but I’m not mad at you, honest. Come by my room, we still have that massage to discuss. Okay? Or let me know if you need a rain check. Talk to you soon.”

  Tommy Joe realized he was still holding her purse. He tossed it on his bed. The clasp came undone and its contents spilled onto the duvet. He grinned at the breath mints, got turned on by the condom and was shocked by the room key. Where was she? He had her money and her identification was probably in her room. He left his room and went back down the hall to bang on her door again but still, no one answered. He slid the key card into the lock and entered her room. The lights were out, so he turned them on. The room looked the same as his, but it smelled like Melanie’s lily of the valley perfume. He didn’t like the strong scent and when Melanie married him, he decided to insist she wear a rose perfume, a more delicate, feminine scent. Nonetheless, feeling his penis tingle with the first sensation of an erection, he inhaled deeply, to hold him until he saw her again.

  He looked around the room before checking out the closets. Melanie sure had sexy taste in clothes. He ran a hand down the front of her jeans. He’d like to get his hands down there when she was in them, but give him time. She’d see she was meant to be his.

  Crossing to the big purple monstrosity by the window, he saw something written on hotel stationery. He sat down and picked up the paper. “Midnight oil”, he read. “Burn the midnight oil”. Small black champagne-shaped bottles with eye logos were sketched on another sheet. “Cranberries? Cinnamon? Definitely musk” were written on another sheet.

  These must be Melanie’s ideas, he thought excitedly. His brother needed to see these notes immediately. He folded them up and called down to the front desk.

  “My friend Melanie Vanderpool in room 1711 dropped her purse. I wanted to let you know that I left it and her key card in her room in case she reports it. And you’ll need to let her into her room. I’ll vouch for her if necessary.”

  “Thank you, sir,” the desk clerk said.

  Tommy Joe looked at the notes in his hand. If he took them, Melanie might come back before he could return them. He saw the fax machine on the desk and ran the sheets through to make copies. Melanie didn’t return. Feeling giddy, he put the originals back on the table, smoothing out the creases he made, and opened the door of the room. The hall was empty.

  He scampered back to his room and called his brother.

  * * * * *

  Rob saw Anita flirting with a few producers at the continental breakfast the next morning and made his way over to her, juggling two bagels, a small container of cream cheese and a black coffee.

  “I hope you aren’t bringing that to me, Robbie darlin’,” Anita purred. “Do you know how many calories are in one of those? My thighs wouldn’t survive.”

  Rob took a big bite out of one of the bagels to show her how little he cared. “Maybe you need to exercise more.”

  “Oh!” Anita gasped and socked him in the chest. “You monster!”

  Rob grinned. “Speaking of nice thighs, what is the deal with Honey, or Melanie, or whatever she is calling herself these days?”

  “What makes you think they’re the same person?” asked Anita with a glint in her eye.

  Rob began to doubt the evidence of his own eyes. He’d never seen Anita show the slightest sign of hostility in all the years he knew her. “They are the same person, aren’t they? I saw the clips from Techno Dreams. If it wasn’t her she must have a twin.”

  “And you’re saying she doesn’t have a twin?”

  Rob frowned. “Not that I know of. A cousin, yeah, but Melanie looks more, I don’t know…amazing…sexy…”

  “You want her,” Anita said. “You’re so blinded by lust you couldn’t possibly see any imperfections.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “I don’t know, Robbie. But Melanie isn’t Honey. She’s too innocent.”

  “She’s divorced,” he protested. “She can’t be that innocent.”

  “The ex is in his fifties and married her when she was barely eighteen. I remember her talking about it on New Year’s Eve. We’re talking major father figure. Melanie seriously doesn’t know how to party, you know? But Honey, that girl did some partying.”

  “So you’re saying that whoever Honey is, she’d have some mileage on her. Even though she can’t be that old.”

  Anita shrugged. “I haven’t seen her in years. What do I know?”

  He had to be certain. His present life wouldn’t survive a real, even though former, Honey Luscious as his lover. His grandfather would fire him. He had no tolerance for anyone he considered “low lifes”. “So are you sure Melanie isn’t Honey Luscious?”

  “She’s who she says she is.” Anita’s normally sunny expression darkened to something like hurt. “What does it matter what her past is if you like her now?”

  Rob took another bite of his bagel. He wasn’t sure he wanted to examine that question too closely, to admit he wouldn’t choose a woman over a job, even with all the excuses he might offer about his family’s business. “Anita,” he said, pointing the
remaining half of a bagel at her, “if she’s Honey Luscious, she’s lying to me, okay? Don’t make any more of this than it is.”

  “You never dated any of us actresses, dancers or models in all these years.”

  At first, his grandfather wouldn’t have approved, which kept him in line, though he had wanted to experiment. Later, he had seen the older man’s point. The industry tended to pass sexually transmitted diseases around like candy. “So I don’t piss in my own playpen. What’s your point?”

  Anita looked away. “I know Melanie isn’t the actress. Also, I know what Honey Luscious’ real name is.”

  “What is it?” Rob demanded.

  “Don’t be getting high handed with me. What business is it of yours?” Anita put her hands on her generous hips.

  “It’s going to be a lot easier to get rid of Drew Huntley if I know what the truth is. Do you want to help Melanie or not?”

  “Believe it or not, I think Melanie can take care of herself,” Anita shot back at him. “After all, she just got a big promotion. She’s the new Product Design manager at Professional Massage.”

  Pain shot behind Rob’s left eye, like an instant migraine. He grabbed Anita’s arm. “You can’t be serious, Anita. That’s even worse!”

  She looked startled. “Excuse me?”

  “She’s here to spy on me!” he exploded and sloshed coffee down his hand as he jerked it up. He shook it off and the burning sensation stopped.

  “What are you talking about?” Anita held her ground, but Rob noticed she was looking a little worried. He let go of her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, making an effort to moderate his tone. “Let me explain. Professional Massage is trying to buy LeatherWorks from Grandfather.”

  Anita’s carefully painted rose mouth made a moue of surprise. “Oh. And you don’t want to sell of course.”

  “They keep asking for a meeting with me. I’ve had Jack hold them off. If they can buy the company, fine, but they’re not picking my brain.”

  “But Melanie hasn’t ever discussed it with you, has she? She never said a word to me about business when your name came up.”

  “So she can keep a secret.”

  “I don’t know, it’s certainly not a secret that she thinks you’re hot. She never quite says, but you know, a woman knows these things,” Anita smirked.

  Rob waved her comments off impatiently. “She hasn’t been honest about why she is interested in me certainly.” In fact, he thought, at first she didn’t even know who he was. He remembered her surprise when she found out. You’d think Professional Massage would have supplied her with a dossier. Of course, her cousin had worked at LeatherWorks. He wondered if Bombshell had been a spy. Maybe. It was a good thing she had quit and this was something he could hold against her if she tried to sue. What a mess.

  He shoved a hand through his hair, forgetting the coffee drips until he felt moisture on his forehead. “Shit,” he muttered.

  He knew he was going to have to apologize to Anita for his behavior later. Rob dumped what was left of his tasteless breakfast into a garbage can on the way out and took the stairs up to his room to let off some steam, but the stairway held memories now. He remembered the glazed passion in Melanie’s eyes as he gave her the ultimate pleasure. Was it practiced? Or was she really as untouched as Anita claimed? Who had tortured whom?

  He was in far too bad a mood to go to any sessions now. What did he care about the latest trends in movie settings? It wasn’t like he would care about product placements much longer. Back in his hotel room, Rob sat down on his sofa, head in hands. What would he do with his life if the sale went through? The fact that Professional Massage was sending spies down to Vegas meant they were serious about buying. He had argued with Grandfather about the proposed sale until he was forced to stop because he was worried about the old man’s blood pressure. He had to let LeatherWorks go along with his fantasies about Melanie Vanderpool. If there was one thing he detested in a woman, it was dishonesty. He’d had a lifetime of that with his beautiful, drug-addled mother. How many times had she told him she was clean, only to wake up one morning and find that his grandfather had been forced to put her into another rehab program?

  Rob kicked off his suit, leaving it crumpled savagely on the floor, pulled on his swimming trunks and headed for the pool. What would he be doing with himself by the time the New Year came around? He was thirty-four, had an accounting degree, job experience, good health. Remembering his earlier conversation with Anita, he considered going back to school. Maybe he’d become a writer. He certainly could attest to the fact that truth was often stranger than fiction. His thoughts of career goals were banished by the sound of two raised voices, a man and a woman.

  Worried by the note of imminent attack in the man’s voice, he was almost on top of the arguing pair before he recognized them.

  “Rob!” A beautiful blond in a flower print mini bikini waved frantically with her free arm.

  Melanie. And practically naked too. Shit. In the grip of Huntley, no less. “What the hell is wrong with you people?” Rob griped.

  He broke Huntley’s grip on her arm. Thanks to Anita, he would be able to end this now and get back to worrying about his future. “Listen to me, asshole. She’s not who you think she is.”

  Huntley pointed a skeletal finger at Rob. “You stay out of this.” He waved a photograph in Rob’s face. “You can’t tell me this woman ain’t Honey.”

  Melanie grabbed the paper out of Huntley’s grip. Rob couldn’t be sure, but Melanie seemed to pale in the bright August sunshine. When he reached for the photograph, Melanie let it go without comment. Rob studied it. If the young woman in the photograph wasn’t Melanie, it had to be…Bombshell? He couldn’t believe his conservative former employee had ever fit in with this motley crew. Obviously, his grandfather had never known.

  “Look, Huntley,” Rob said, “she isn’t Honey Luscious. You can ask Anita Press. She’ll tell you.”

  “Not good enough,” Huntley snarled. “Why should I care what some drug-addled hooker has to say?”

  Rob clenched his hands into fists and started to pull one back then stopped. What good would it do to punch the guy? “You have Anita so wrong,” he said sadly. “You ruin these girls’ lives. They’re innocents until people like you worm your way into their lives and prey on them.”

  “Spare me your lectures,” Huntley jeered. “You’re no better than the rest of us.”

  Which was Grandfather’s point, Rob guessed. But he didn’t believe it to be true. He sold a fantasy product. He didn’t put lives up for sale.

  “Rob?” Melanie said.

  He looked at her. She took a deep breath and looked steadily into his eyes. Rob held back a smile. He had to remember he was mad at her, but it still felt good to see her again.

  She asked, “What was it you said about a mole that Honey Luscious had?”

  He nodded. “She had one on her right hip.”

  “Mr. Huntley,” Melanie turned to him. “If I was Honey Luscious, I wouldn’t be ashamed to admit it. I’d even give you your devil’s due if I really owed you money. But I’m not her.” She put one hand against the front of her sunflower bikini bottom and pulled down the right side with her other hand, showing one perfect tanned hip. Rob tried to evaluate it clinically, simultaneously hoping his very unprofessional physical reaction didn’t show in his baggy trunks. No mole, no scar. Mata Hari, he mumbled to himself. Don’t let her seduce you. Finding out she wasn’t Honey Luscious only resolved one of their issues.

  Rob let out a breath and stepped in front of her, blocking Melanie from Huntley’s view. “You’ve seen all you’re ever going to of this woman, Huntley. Now get the hell out of here before I forget I’m civilized and give you the beating you deserve.”

  Huntley sneered. “She’s trash, Black, just like they all are.” He turned and walked away.

  Coward, Rob thought. It doesn’t matter if you get the last word, as long as you leave her alone. He felt a hand on h
is arm and turned to Melanie.

  She smiled at him. “Thanks for protecting me again. We liberated types aren’t supposed to appreciate it, but I do.”

  He grinned but felt the smile drop from his lips as he remembered his beef with her. “I’m glad you’re free of Huntley, but I might wish the same for myself.”

  “Why?” she asked, dropping her hand from his arm. She hunched slightly.

  Two for two, Rob thought. This had to be his all-time worst day for interacting with and hurting the feelings of beautiful women. “Professional Massage,” he answered.

  Melanie frowned. “My company?”

  Rob waited for her to admit that she was in Las Vegas to meet with him. But she continued to look at him, confused.

  “Why are you down here?” he said patiently.

  “I’m here to save my company,” Melanie said. “And what a joke that is. We have trouble with the quality of our main product line, so the execs decide the solution is for me to come up with something new to sell instead of fixing the old reliables. And I lose my job if I fail, instead of them.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Rob said, though she certainly sounded convinced herself. She was a good actress.

  “Why not?” Her pretty blue eyes widened. “It’s the truth. I just got a promotion a few months ago so I’m an easy scapegoat.”

  “Melanie, your company is trying to buy mine. You must be down here to check me out.” Rob put his hands on his hips then dropped them, feeling like an idiot using an authoritarian business pose in swimming trunks.

  Melanie laughed. “That would be better than what I’ve been doing. Sitting in my hotel room, racking my brain for something to knock their socks off. And that’s when I can get into my room.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I left my purse in your booth last night, remember?” She colored slightly. “I got read the riot act by a security guard when I tried to get through the checkpoint to my room. You know, I thought you might have been a security guard when we met. You put on that same godlike arrogance act they have when you think you’re right about something.”