Virgin's Fantasy

by Kayla Oliver

  She ignored my sarcasm, mostly, I think, because she knew that whatever she was about to say to me was going to devastate my entire fucking life. And I didn’t want to think about it. But I nodded once to tell her to go ahead.

  “The reason that Callum Reid is trying to sign Trent Parker is because they’ve known each other for years. They were best friends in high school.”

  And just like that, the last hope I had of signing Trent Parker went down the drain. I was toast. I was shit on toast. I was bird shit on burnt toast. There was no salvaging this project… was there?

  Putting my big-girl panties on, I turned to Marnie. “Get me his number. I mean, his number. I want to get as close to Callum Reid as humanly possible.”

  “You want to call him?” Courtney asked with a raised brow. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

  “Hell if I know, but I figure I’m screwed anyway. Might as well go for broke, right?”

  She considered this for half a second, then shrugged. “You got it boss.”

  I nodded my head in gratitude. This wasn’t over. It took Courtney only a few minutes to get Mr. Reid’s number. Although his personal number wasn’t listed publicly, there was an office number where he could be reached, and while I was sure I’d have to go through a secretary—probably some bimbo he hired for her fake tits rather than her skill—I was willing to use that as a starting place at the very least.

  Snatching the number from Courtney, I quickly dialed him. It rang several times, then a strong, masculine voice came over the other end. “Tarvish Press, this is Callum Reid speaking.”

  I was surprised to find that it was Mr. Reid himself answering, but also that I couldn’t help but think his voice was strangely familiar. I tried to think when I might have heard it—on a TV spot or a podcast, maybe—but couldn’t come up with anything.

  I didn’t linger on it. “This is Marnie McKenna of S&W Publishing. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind meeting me for a quick chat.”

  There was a beat, then, “Ms. McKenna, unless you are thinking of abandoning your contract with the devil to come over and work for me, I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass on a meeting. I’m a busy man.”

  My eyes narrowed as I pictured a sniveling little weasel of a man sitting in an oversized desk chair while he had his big-busted secretary prance around in a negligée.

  Bastard.

  “I really must insist—” I began, but he quickly interrupted me.

  “I do apologize, Ms. McKenna. I hate to be rude”—I highly doubted that—“ but I’ve got some pressing matters to attend to. You have a nice day.”

  And before I could get another word out, he’d hung up the phone.

  I pulled the phone away from my face and stared at it long and hard. “That bastard hung up on me.”

  Courtney, who had been watching me the whole time, raised both her eyebrows at me. “Wow, what a dick.”

  “I know! What an asshole.”

  I was so pissed off right then that I had half a mind to march down to Tarvish Press and give him a piece of my mind in person—then I realized that I probably wouldn’t make it into the damn elevator, much less to his office, so I quickly reconsidered.

  And that was when I got a better idea.

  Turning to Courtney again, I smiled silkily at her. “Court, my dear, I need another favor.”

  She sighed. “Man, I’m earning my keep today.”

  I nodded. “Yep. I want you to find out one more thing about Callum Reid.”

  “What’s that? And please don’t say preferred bust size, because I do not want to deal with the kind of crazy articles we’ll get as a result.”

  I waved off her comment. “Nope. I want to know where he likes to have a drink after work. I think I’m going to pay him a visit.”

  Chapter Nine

  Callum

  I loosened my tie and ruffled my hair a little, trying to unwind after the day. It had been a doozy, thanks to my asshole friend Trent.

  That bastard’s really going to make me work for it, I thought grudgingly.

  It wasn’t like that was a surprise, but you would think that he’d understand my position on S&W. They were the bane of my existence—didn’t that warrant a little discretion on his part, then? But no. The asshole was still going to meet with them while I was trying to woo him like some medieval matching ritual.

  The whole thing irked me.

  Let it go,I tried to tell myself. He’s doing this deliberately to piss you off.

  That was probably the truth about the whole thing. Trent didn’t like to just hand things to people on silver platters, because he’d never had such opportunities himself. It had been a fluke that the two of us had ever crossed paths, and we were so different that it was a bigger fluke that we were friends.

  And I was at least partially willing to admit that that made him a hell of a good guy. Not that I was ever going to tell him that, especially while he was jerking me around like this.

  I took the limo that night so that I could go to the bar and get wasted at my discretion. It wasn’t something I did often, but I figured I’d earned it today.

  Trent was playing hardball.

  Alexander, my driver, dropped me off outside the White Wave Lounge, a classier joint than its name indicated. It was a little place tucked into a boring brick building façade with a door slapped on the front that looked about as inviting as a sword-wielding Cambodian lady—in other words, not at all.

  But once you got past that rickety old door and went down the steps, it was a whole different world down there. Soft lighting, plush burgundy couches, hand-carved wooden tables, and a bar. And a liquor selection that would make even the most expert of drinkers gasp in awe.

  It was a ritzy place without catering to the ignorant, the uninitiated, or the unadventurous. It was my kind of place.

  I thanked Alexander and reminded him to be on standby for whenever I called. “It’ll probably be a late night,” I told him.

  He nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll be here.”

  I headed down the concrete stairs and met the bouncer at the entrance. I showed him my ID for formality’s sake only. He recognized me and even greeted me by name. “There’s space at the bar, Mr. Reid, but a table is tucked in the back left corner if you’d like it. Just ask the bartender.”

  “Thanks, Kellen.”

  “Of course, Mr. Reid.”

  I headed inside and saw that, while there were plenty of customers there, things were calm. The tables along the walls were mostly occupied, several chairs even pulled up to accommodate additional guests, but Kellen was right. There were several available seats at the bar. The bar went nearly the entire length of the back wall, with a mirror reflecting the tables and chairs in front of it so that it looked like the entire place was twice its actual size. Bottles were lined right in front of the mirror, making the whole place look almost surreal.

  I was going to head to that back table, the one tucked away in the corner that I liked so much, but then I spotted her at the bar.

  She was dressed in a sleek white dress that was equal parts elegant and immodest. It covered her rear and those long, long legs, but her back was exposed in a deep v that was low enough that I knew she wasn’t wearing panties—or a bra. Her back was to me, so all I could see was the way her hair spilled over her shoulder on one side, with long auburn locks that were deliberately curled for that evening. But I noticed the freckles that dotted her back and the curve of her hips.

  A slow smile spread across my face. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I approached the woman. When I slid into a stool beside her, I leaned across the bar and said, “What are the odds that we’d meet again?”

  When she turned to look at me and I caught sight of her heart-shaped face, I knew I was right. I did recognize her. She was the same woman from the convention—the one who never called me.

  She smiled sweetly at me, her lips painted with a matte red that made her look like she stepped out of a 1950s pinup ad. Fucking sexy
.

  “I’d say they were pretty good,” she told me in a low, sultry tone that did wonderful things to my cock.

  “Oh? I figured when I didn’t hear from you that you’d decided you weren’t interested in working for Tarvish Press.”

  She laughed, a sweet sound that was a mix of wind chimes and something thicker. “Oh, honey, I’m not.”

  My eyebrows rose high on my head. “I feel like I’m dancing with a partner who knows different steps.”

  “It happens when you don’t know what dance you’re supposed to be doing,” she told me simply.

  “Maybe we should start over,” I said, feeling confused. She was sexy as hell, but she wasn’t making much sense. “I’m Callum—”

  “Reid. Owner of Tarvish Press,” she finished for me with a raised brow and a sneaky little smile. “I know who you are.”

  I frowned a little. Although I wasn’t unknown to the world, it was rare that I had people just call me out, saying they knew who I was. That was Trent’s territory, and I was happy to leave him to it. But on occasion I ended up in the media, usually for some ridiculous scandal that wasn’t my fault. Or only half my fault, anyway.

  “I see,” I said cautiously. “Then I guess the question is, who are you?”

  She turned to fully face me, showing that the front of her dress did an excellent job of covering everything and hiding nothing. The collar of the dress was at her neck, but there was a deep dip of a v that cut between her breasts. The material there was flesh colored and mesh, giving me a really nice glimpse of the inner sides of her tits, which I happened to think were marvelous. Her dress had sleeves down to her wrists, with some kind of embroidered design at the edges that I couldn’t bother myself with. I was too focused on the way that damn dress clung to her body.

  Jesus, it looks like it was fucking glued on.

  “Don’t you recognize me?” she asked innocently.

  I kicked the corner of my mouth up in a smile. “Honey, how could I forget a body like that?”

  She laughed again. “Aren’t you charming?”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  “Mm. Well, this would probably go more in your favor if you’d just agreed to a meeting.”

  And once again we were back into the territory of what the fuck was she talking about. “As I recall, I gave you my card. Doesn’t that mean it was on you to set up a meeting?”

  “Oh, but I tried to, remember? I called your office today as a matter of fact.”

  My brow pinched, my smirk dropping. “What are you talking about? Did you get my secretary? I didn’t get any messages.”

  “No, I spoke directly with you. You don’t remember?”

  “Like I said, I’m sure I’d remember—”

  I broke off as things finally clicked. Her voice was familiar, and while it could have just been that convention, I didn’t think so. Because I did get a call at work that day. And I did speak to a woman who asked for a meeting with me that same day.

  Jesus fucking Christ. You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought, staring at the gorgeous, sultry woman sitting in front of me like she’d suddenly grown a second head.

  “Tell me you’re not Marnie McKenna from S&W Publishing.”

  Her smile turned wicked. “Look, folks, he’s finally catching on. Such a smart man.” Her sarcasm was venomous, and she finally dropped that smile a second later.

  Leaning back on my stool, I motioned for the bartender. When he came over to me and asked what I wanted, I said, “A scotch, neat.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The bartender pulled out a tumbler and poured a shot of the good stuff off the bar, then pushed it in front of me.

  “Thanks,” I told him. Lifting the glass in a toast to the lovely pain in my ass Ms. McKenna, I downed the shot. Then I had the bartender pour me another. This one I sipped on.

  McKenna waited patiently for me to down my first drink and to mull over just what was going on right here.

  After a moment, I sighed. “So you’re the editor who’s trying to sign Trent Parker.”

  She nodded. “Yes. And you’re the one who’s trying to steal him away.” She idly ran a hand around the rim of her glass, a half-empty martini by the looks of it.

  “Steal him?” I scoffed. “I think you’ve got that backward. From what I can tell, you’re trying to steal him from me.”

  “Excuse me? You weren’t even interested in signing him until I started negotiations with him!”

  I waved her off. Technically that was true, but I wouldn’t let her have that point. Trent was my friend, not hers—that meant I got first dibs. “Nonsense. We’ve been friends for ages. I knew him when he still had crooked teeth and acne. I doubt you can say the same.”

  She grumbled something I couldn’t make out. Louder, she told me, “I don’t have to say the same, because I have integrity.”

  “Integrity?” I almost laughed at her then and there.

  “Yes, integrity,” she snapped. “Meaning I don’t need to use some long-time friend connections to steal clients away from other publishers. I use my wits and my—”

  “Sex appeal?” I suggested, raking my eyes deliberately across her body. God knew she was using it with me. No one wore that kind of dress for a night on the town right after work. This was a setup, and she’d been trying to seduce me.

  And nearly succeeded, I admitted, my gaze once more lingering on those lovely tits.

  “Asshole,” she told me, turning so that I only saw her profile.

  It didn’t help with the staring, though, because she had the perfect breast-and-hip-to-waist ratio, making her look like she was naturally arching her back in ecstasy while all she was doing was sitting there.

  “The contract was a great offer, and he’d have accepted it eventually if you hadn’t stepped in,” she snapped at me. Her eyes were like fire as she fixed them on me, but her anger only served to turn me on. It was unprofessional at best, but I couldn’t help being attracted to her.

  No harm in looking, I reasoned.

  “Highly doubtful,” I told her, taking another sip of my whiskey. “He was indulging you—and I can see why. You’re quite an eyeful.”

  She pursed her lips together as her cheeks warmed. Her freckles suddenly stood out better, a little redder than the pale skin around them, and I found the effect… charming. Cute. A-fucking-dorable even. It was stupid; I didn’t do adorable. But for some reason the cute things just added to her overall effect until I found myself wanting to see just where else she had those delicious freckles.

  “Honey, if I’d been offering myself, he’d have already taken the damn contract.”

  I lifted my eyebrows at her insinuation, imagining what she would look like sprawled out on top of a desk, arching her back just like it was now, legs spread open as she invited me between them.

  Yep, I’d have probably thought really hard about signing, too.

  “Then I’ll have to hope that’s not your next offer… unless you want to pitch it to me?”

  She laughed, and it was breathy this time, telling me that she wasn’t entirely unaffected by the banter between us. “I don’t think you’re as useful to me as Mr. Parker,” she told me simply.

  “Oh, I beg to differ.” I leaned closer to her, pushing the boundaries of personal space and definitely going beyond what would be considered appropriate in a business situation. But this wasn’t business, and if she thought it was, she wasn’t paying attention. “I think I’d be plenty useful to you. Just give me a little time and I’ll give you everything you want.”

  Her breath hitched, her breasts heaving, and for just a second her eyes were dark pits of wanton lust. I could feel the draw, the slight lean of her body toward mine. She wanted me. Part of her even needed me—and then she promptly slapped her glass down on the table, with half of its contents sloshing over the side.

  “I don’t give up, Mr. Reid,” she told me, and while her voice was still husky, it was also firm. Like she wasn’t going to give in to
whatever temptation I threw her way.

  Damn shame, I couldn’t help but think, even while the more reasonable side of me reminded me that she was working for the enemy. Almost literally.

  I didn’t lean back, and I didn’t do anything to hide the heat in my gaze, because I realized that it made her uncomfortable. She didn’t like that she was attracted to me, and damn it all if I wouldn’t play that up. I got off my stool and took a step closer to her. I was tall enough that we were eye level, and I could smell the soft, flowery scent she’d put on mixing in with the subtle hint of woman that drove me fucking nuts. I thought it must be pheromones sent out into the world in an effort to subconsciously attract a mate. It pissed me off, but I loved it, too. There was little that could make you as high as the scent of desire.

  “Neither do I, Marnie.” I made a point of saying her name, letting it roll off my tongue in an effort to show her the things I could do, would do if she’d give in.

  She shuddered but didn’t pull back. “Too bad for you, Mr. Reid.”

  I grinned wolfishly. “May the best man win,” I said pointedly.

  She grinned like a cat, slow and languid and predatory. It was fucking sexy. “Never send a man to do a woman’s job.”

  “And, baby, there are some jobs only a woman does right,” I told her, dropping my voice even farther. “Want to go someplace and find out which ones?”

  I didn’t know what made me ask. Up until this point, I was doing this purely out of a desire to make her uncomfortable—and because she was sexy as hell. But this… this was crossing a line. I should have tried to reach out into the air and snatch those words back, but even if I could have, I wouldn’t. I wanted to see what her answer would be, and a big part of me wanted that answer to be a yes.

  “Fraternizing with the enemy?” she all but purred, leaning even closer until I could actually feel the tips of her breasts pressing into my chest.

  God. Damn.

  “I promise to torture you until you scream,” I growled in answer.

  Her lips found their way to my ear, and her breath was a warm caress as she said, “I’ll hold you to that promise.”