“I’m not suggesting you kiss in front of me or even practice it at all. Just kiss during the contest in a natural manner.” A defensive note crept into her voice. Hell, given the opportunity to kiss Antonio, she’d grab him and have the man in a lip lock before he changed his mind. She gave an impatient shrug, when she wanted to facepalm at their lack of vision. “Discuss it and let me know. Bridget, do you have a copy of the song at home you can bring with you next time? I can’t remember the lyrics but we’ll choreograph our routine to follow them. From memory, the Frisco Stranglers changed the original lyrics to refer to a male since they’re a girl band. Okay, so once you get to the couch you can flow into the sex routine.”
“If we’re role-playing, what’s the best way to slip into the sexual part of the act?” Bridget asked.
At least they’d stopped staring at her as though she’d sprouted an extra head. “I have the answer, but you’re not going to like it.” She hated it, but as an instructor it was her duty to get the best possible performance from her students. A kiss or two would rivet an audience, desensitized after seeing so many raunchy acts onstage. But they’d need to save the passionate kiss for the final so the other competitors didn’t copy their routine and erode their advantage. Secrecy would be essential.
“Not kissing again,” Bridget cried with a trace of disgust. “It’s unhygienic.”
Antonio grinned without warning, stealing Sasha’s peace of mind and sending a quick punch of heat the length of her body. “A kiss, huh? Lady, I like the way you think. I doubt anyone else would try it.”
Bridget scowled. “I’m not good at kissing. I’m more of a licker or sucker.”
“You like to bite, too,” Antonio said drolly.
“That’s my point.” Sasha inserted the argument before her thoughts strayed. She liked to do the same things as Bridget—especially with Antonio—but she fantasized about kissing. A lot. “A kiss is a fantasy, a promise rolled up in intimacy. We need to grab our audience by the throat and keep them enthralled for the entire routine.”
Bridget sniffed. “Maybe we should use that other song about starting with a kiss.”
“Do you want to show us what you mean?” Antonio crooked his finger at Sasha, then patted the couch beside him.
“With you?” Sasha’s gaze zeroed in on his mouth before lifting to his eyes. Please let him say yes.
“I know how to kiss.” Antonio’s dark eyes glowed hot as he sauntered closer. “And I’m not worried about spreading germs.”
Before Sasha could react, he closed his arms around her and swept her off balance. Her heart pounded halfway up her throat before settling into a racy beat. Antonio held her draped over his arm, helpless so she couldn’t have moved if she wanted. He lowered his head and angled a trail of fairy kisses across her cheek before tracing the shape of her lips with his tongue, slowly and carefully as if he were an artist.
She clutched his shoulders, blocking out the knowledge that Bridget watched this intimacy. Sasha let her eyes drift closed and her other senses do the work. Masculine skin heated beneath her hands. His citrus scent filled her nostrils, reminding her of the day they’d had the special aftershave mixed for Antonio in a small, out-of-the-way market in India—just after they’d participated in the Olympics.
But still she waited for the fantasy to arrive.
“Are you going to keep teasing or kiss me?” she whispered, her eyes flickering. “I don’t think you know how.”
“Always in a hurry,” he chided, his puff of amusement washing across her lips.
Sasha started to refute his charge, but he covered her lips, sealing her words in her throat. His mouth moved over hers, surprisingly gentle considering the heat simmering in his expression.
Heady and intoxicating.
She returned his kiss, reckless in her response, opening to him. Her tongue flicked out, sliding in a sensuous dance with his. She might not get another chance like this. Sasha cupped his face in her hands and lingered, savoring every second.
It was like fire and ice.
A shock to the system.
She drank in the sweetness, recording the memory to drag out later when she was alone. The addictive pleasure coursed through her. Sasha clung as blood pounded in her ears, through her veins. She wanted the kiss to go on forever, but it couldn’t. Slowly, he righted her, and they pulled apart to stare at each other.
“Stroking,” Bridget burst out, startling Sasha and Antonio from the kiss-induced spell. “This is what I think we should do—walk up to the bed together, and when my thighs hit the bed, Antonio should crowd me from behind, smooth my wrapper down my back and let it fall away to reveal my body. He should nuzzle my shoulder and caress his hands down my torso using the long, luxurious strokes a masseur uses but without the painful pressure behind them.”
Sasha imagined the scenario all too well. Bridget’s suggestion was not only good. It was perfect.
Antonio smirked and placed a gentle finger on her chin, a fraction below her lips. “You’ll catch insects if you leave your enticing mouth open like that.”
Sasha snapped her teeth together, almost taking Antonio’s finger. She leapt away, fisting her hands behind her back and studying him warily. The urge to grab him warred with common sense, and Sasha dug her fingernails into her palms to fire conviction and strength. The need for sexual release gnawed at her self-control. She hadn’t felt this level of sizzle for ages.
She released her balled fists since they tingled with numbness. Averting her gaze from Antonio, she focused on the arrangement of dried grasses on the end of her desk and concentrated fiercely on the bronze-colored seed heads.
After warming up both Antonio and Bridget, she had a few insistent needs of her own. Selfishly, she wanted to hurry the pair to get to the threesome part of the routine. Every breath she took held the hard edge of sexual desperation. She stepped from foot to foot—fidgety and aroused. The kissing hadn’t helped. Her lips prickled and the taste of Antonio, wild and electrifying, fueled her arousal further.
“Well, what do you think?” Bridget demanded.
Sasha looked up to find both of them staring at her with differing expressions. Bridget sought approval. Antonio, he wasn’t as easy to read.
“Your idea sounds excellent,” Sasha said briskly. “Let’s do it before everyone cools down.” She planted her butt on the edge of her desk.
Bridget sashayed away before strutting back, glancing over her shoulder in a flirtatious manner. Antonio followed, and, by the way he held himself, he’d dropped into competition mode. He pressed close to Bridget, crowding her from behind and skimmed his lips over her shoulder blade. His hands stroked, shaped her curves.
Sasha heard a sigh.
Antonio grasped Bridget by the hips and lifted her onto the bed so she was face down. He laid a trail of kisses down her backbone. The contrast of his tanned hands against Bridget’s pale skin drew the eye. Sasha shook off the envy that clawed her.
This was good. It would enthrall the audience and make them follow the progress of Antonio’s hands as he fondled Bridget’s creamy skin. Sasha tracked his steady moves as he palmed the cheeks of Bridget’s ass. His erection nudged her buttocks as he leaned forward to cup her breasts.
Bridget issued a throaty groan, sending a corresponding tug through Sasha. Briefly, she closed her eyes to block out the sight. Envy struck harder. Wide-eyed and with a sick sensation in her gut, she made herself watch the performance, right through until Antonio climaxed.
Then, she almost lost it. She bounded to her feet, ripping her gaze away from the two straining bodies, desperate for her own release.
“I…ah…I think some of my students have arrived early. I’ll…ah…just let them in.” Sasha hurried from her classroom as if reporters intent on a story chased her. At the bottom of the stairs, she ceased running to collect her scattered emotions.
Not long before the heats started for Sex Idol. Once the competition commenced, the tension would escalate. From expe
rience, she knew the pressure to perform built. But she could do this. Sasha ground her teeth together as she opened the front door and stepped into the cool air. And she would do it, dammit. She’d get through this contest, then call Antonio on his promise to give her a child.
A family.
That was what she wanted, and the sacrifices were worth it if she could fulfill her dream. Make it real.
Ten minutes later, with her willpower shored up, she climbed the stairs and strolled back into her classroom. Antonio wore his jeans again and had a communicator pressed to his ear, his expression earnest as he listened to his caller. Even so, his gaze tracked her reappearance. Bridget was nowhere to be seen but the clank of pipes indicated she was washing in the cleansing unit.
Sasha walked over to her desk, conscious of Antonio in a way that didn’t bode well for the next month. Her mouth was dry as cotton and repeated swallowing did nothing to ease the sensation. She forced her attention to the lesson plans she’d left on her desktop but with little luck, her awareness of Antonio at an all-time high after that kiss and watching him with Bridget.
The stairs creaked just as the water pipes stopped their insistent clanging. Her students arrived in twos and threes, and were all excited to see Antonio. Bridget entered the classroom soon after and several of Sasha’s male students nudged each other, as if daring their friends to talk to the redheaded star.
“Thanks, Sasha.” Bridget walked straight over to her. “I enjoyed today. It’s the best training session Antonio and I have had for ages.” Bridget had always seemed bitchy toward her, but her eyes blazed with genuine sincerity, astonishing Sasha.
Satisfaction helped Sasha’s smile. This was why she’d become a teacher. “No problem. I’ll see you and Antonio tomorrow night.”
Bridget puckered her brow for an instant before nodding. “I’ll bring the music.”
* * * * *
Bridget was late again.
Antonio scowled as he waited in his hover outside the warehouse housing Sasha’s classroom. He’d wanted to talk to Bridget in private and discover what the hell was going on with their off-and-on partnership. Sure put a crimp in his plan to talk Sasha into performing again. Hell, talk about a pain in the ass. He checked his watch and grunted.
Out of patience, he climbed from his vehicle and slammed the door. Wind ruffled his hair and crept down the back of his neck. Antonio tugged up his shirt collar and huddled into his black jacket. Halfway across the street, a shriek of brakes drew his attention. The black, old-fashioned gas-guzzler cornered on two wheels before the driver wrestled it back on the road. The gleaming vehicle screeched to a halt a few feet from Antonio, and Bridget climbed from the passenger seat. As soon as the door shut, the driver gunned the engine and sped off.
Antonio stared after the in-your-face car until Bridget joined him. “Who was that?”
Bridget’s furtive glance down the road set off warning signals. She interpreted his raised eyebrows as doubt or disapproval because she scowled and shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. “Just a friend. No one in particular. I’ve got the music. This will be great. I think we have a good shot at taking the title. We’d better hurry or else we’ll be late.”
Frustration poked Antonio’s temper. “I thought we’d decided to end our partnership. I don’t know what the hell you’re playing at, but I intend to find out. After this, we’ll go for a coffee.”
“No, I can’t.” Her hand ran up and down the strap of her bag and she looked everywhere except at him. “I have something else I need to do.”
What was going on? She looked close to panic with her wide eyes and choppy snuffles. Her constant fidgeting. “What do you need to do?”
“I…none of your business.” She raised her chin and gave him snappy attitude. “I don’t have to answer to you.”
“Then why the hell aren’t you looking me in the eye? Why all the secrecy? You can either explain or take a hike. It’s not too late to find another partner.”
“No! You can’t do that.” Bridget grasped his shoulders, her eyes beseeching and full of passion. “Please, Antonio. We have to do this together.”
The side door to the warehouse flew open and Sasha’s students poured outside.
One of the female girls in the first group to exit squealed. “Wow! It’s Antonio.”
“And Bridget!” The only male in the cluster zapped his focus to Bridget’s breasts and lingered.
“Can we have your autograph?”
“Sure.” Antonio’s frustration grew rather than abated as he took the proffered slip of pink paper from a young girl. He glowered at Bridget over the girl’s head.
“You’d like my autograph, too?” She cooed to the star-struck male, clearly relieved at the interruption. Through narrowed eyes, Antonio watched her scrawl her signature and punctuate it with a bronze lipstick imprint. “We’d better get going.” Bridget turned away to disappear inside the warehouse.
Antonio signed another autograph, excused himself and stomped after Bridget.
“It must be there.” Sasha paced in front of a group of teenagers, a distressed frown etched into her face. Catching sight of Antonio and Bridget, she murmured something to the students before meeting them across the room.
“Can you work through your routine without me? I need to sort out a problem first.” Harassed and preoccupied, she dragged an agitated hand through her loose hair.
“Anything we can help with?” The need to erase her problems was a new one, but he’d go with it because the instinct seemed right. The grateful smile didn’t hurt either.
“Thanks, but I can deal with it. It’s more important for you and Bridget to get your routine nailed down.”
Antonio dipped his chin in acceptance, but he didn’t want to perform with Bridget, dammit. Bridget and her on-off theatrics kept mucking with his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about being with Sasha again. Get it together, man. If he wasn’t careful, he’d give himself away and everything would fall apart.
Sasha returned to the knot of students and struggled to ignore the flurry of fear in her middle region. “Have you checked the dressing rooms?” Talk about a disastrous day, and now she had to watch Antonio making out with Bridget. Oh, joy.
A tear trickled down her student’s pale face, boomeranging Sasha back to her more immediate problem. The missing jewelry. She wished she could tell herself Claire had lost the diamond necklace somewhere else, but she hadn’t. Sasha had noticed the girl wearing the necklace when she arrived at class yesterday. Evidently, she’d taken it off and left it in the changing rooms during class.
She sighed and squared her shoulders. “We’ll search over again. Claire, tell me what you did yesterday. We’ll retrace your steps.”
Ten minutes later, Claire appeared even paler and her tears fell in earnest. Sasha wanted to howl in concert.
“Dad will kill me,” Claire sobbed, and swiped the tears from her cheeks. “I wasn’t meant to wear it to class, but I wanted to show the necklace to my friends. I didn’t notice it missing until I arrived home.”
Sasha wanted to cry, too. The bad publicity would hurt her school and the good reputation she enjoyed. She shuddered. It would give Claire’s father a lever to use in his relentless pursuit. The man made no secret of his wish to install her as his mistress. It had been bad enough when he’d wanted Claire enrolled with her school. Despite telling him her novice class was full, he’d made himself a nuisance until she’d relented. He was still pestering her for a more intimate association. Sasha sniffed back an angry sob. Why did it have to be Claire who’d lost the necklace?
* * * * *
“Is there anything else missing?” The policeman wandered around her desk before turning to face her.
He didn’t appear much older than her students. Sasha eyed the thin blond man with his sparse beard and tight black uniform as he questioned her. “I don’t think so.” She scanned her memorabilia wall, concentrating on anything but her precious reputation. Normally the conten
ts soothed her. They… “My Olympic medals,” she burst out. Two giant steps took her up to the wall. “My signed postcards. They’re all gone.” In utter disbelief, she covered her mouth with her hands to stem her pained cry. A thief. Someone had stolen her memories of Antonio.
“Sasha, darling.” The greeting came from behind her, oily and smug. Claire’s father.
Sasha sidled closer to the young policeman for protection. Thomas Welsh had wandering hands and long arms. He also disliked taking no for an answer. Last time they’d met, Mrs. Welsh had arrived in the nick of time. He’d made her life unpleasant, setting government officials and city auditors on her school until she’d caved and enrolled his daughter. Sasha regretted giving in to the man to this day. She glanced over at Antonio and Bridget who were going through a warm-up at the far end of the classroom. Sighing, she turned back to face her nemesis.
“Mr. Welsh.”
“Call me Thomas, my dear. I’ve told you that numerous times before.”
His steely eyes landed on the cop, his expression shifting to terse as if he detested dealing with an underling. Judging by his navy-blue suit, he’d come direct from his offices in San Francisco. His smart apparel bore the Gagaw designer label and was cut to cover the paunch garnered from long business lunches and after-work martinis. Sasha knew he had one because she’d felt it when he’d trapped her against the desk one day. She pulled a face. That hadn’t been all she’d felt before she’d escaped his clutches. Never had an interruption been so welcome.
“Have you found my daughter’s diamond necklace?”
“No, sir.”
“Have the premises been searched?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any suspects?”
“No, sir.”
Thomas turned to Sasha and captured her right hand. “You will show me where Claire lost the necklace, and we’ll discuss what’s to be done.” The silent threat was implicit, at least to Sasha.
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