Mona's Honeymoon Fantasy (Delta of Venus Inc.)

by Vincent, Verena

  “Whatever. You simply don’t see how remarkable this whole makeover has been. I just watched you confront that girl with complete self-assurance. You were positively commanding and I never in a million years thought you had that kind of balls.”

  Mona stood upright in the beautiful five-inch heels and gave Lana an uncomfortable look. “Well, did you see the look she gave that woman when she asked for a larger size? I don’t care how expensive this store is. No one deserves to be treated with disrespect just because they don’t resemble a skeleton.”

  “See, that’s what I mean. You may have felt that way before but you would never have confronted anyone about it. Two years ago you would have slunk away, had a hot fudge sundae and thought evil thoughts about that stick-figure mutant. But now you feel like you have every right to speak up if you feel like you have a valid point. It’s just remarkable. You, are just remarkable.”

  That exchange had occurred just a few months ago and it marked the first moment when Mona really started to feel comfortable in her new skin. Until that moment she’d still remained that scared, hefty girl on the inside, no matter how thin and confident she appeared on the outside.

  However, all the counselling, spinning classes and reassurances from her friends couldn’t help her with one thing: her virginity. She’d employed professionals to help her with her other issues. It had seemed natural to seek professionals to assist her with this last hurdle too. But since leaving the Delta of Venus Inc., offices she was discovering that hiring someone to show her how to do the perfect sit-up was not the same as paying someone to initiate her into sex. She had miscalculated her ability to remain practical about this one last aspect of her transformation and now she felt like burying her face in a bowl of cream cheese icing, sabotaging all the progress she’d made in the past two years in one self-destructive but delicious gesture.

  Staring at the back of the leather seat in front of her Mona smoothed her hand down her flat stomach as if to reassure herself that the fat hadn’t somehow magically returned. No matter how many times she looked in the mirror or slipped on a pair of skinny jeans, it still didn’t seem real to her. Even though she’d sweated her ass off every day and tracked every single calorie she’d consumed, she always half-expected to see double-chins in the mirror and feel a pouch of extra flesh beneath her bellybutton.

  She was distracted from her dark thoughts by movement to her right. Another passenger was rustling around in the overhead compartment across the aisle. His broad back was to her and his brawny arms were stretched over his head as he pushed her luggage gently to the side to make room for what looked like a battered guitar case.

  She looked up with annoyance at her suitcase, now mushed into the corner of the luggage compartment. Who did this joker think he was? Probably some spoiled rock star with an inflated ego and enflamed genitals who felt entitled to park his precious guitar or his penis anywhere he felt like. Her new confident persona didn’t allow for this type of behaviour. She felt the righteous anger start to bubble up to the surface as she watched him rest the neck of his case directly on her luggage. How dare he?

  She blew out a breath and tried to remain calm. After all, she was going to have to spend the next several hours in close confines with the big jerk, so unless she wanted to be a huge stress-ball when she arrived in paradise, she needed to handle this situation with some tact. She would wait until he sat down and then she would remove her bag from the compartment and transfer it elsewhere. And she would be sure to give his guitar a well-placed shove while she was at it. Yes, that’s exactly what she would do. A nice, civilized, passive-aggressive way of handling conflict. She would not fly off the handle.

  Then he did the unthinkable. He grabbed her suitcase out of the compartment and tossed it onto the seat below.

  He did NOT just do that.

  The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Excuse me, but what the hell do you think you’re doing with my things?”

  At the sound of her irritated voice, the man handling her luggage twisted around to look at her and her annoyance died a quick and painless death.

  He was, quite simply, sexy as hell. Not handsome. His features were just too rugged and harsh for that term. If his jaw had been a shade less square or his cheekbones less sharp he would have been considered conventionally attractive but the harsh angles of his face gave him a vaguely forbidding look that she found both thrilling and intimidating. He looked like the kind of man who would be comfortable making deals in back alleys in the seediest part of town.

  “Is this yours?” He asked, patting her luggage with one powerful-looking hand. His tanned skin and longish sandy hair gave him the look of California surfer boy turned juvenile delinquent but his powerful shoulders and broad chest under the white T-shirt marked him as a man in the prime of life, maybe thirty years old. At least eight years her junior so strictly off-limits, even if he was so compelling she had trouble looking away from that hard face.

  She recognized his type immediately. He was the kind of man who could get exactly what he wanted from women based on his charm alone and did not apologize for breaking hearts or rules whenever he felt like it.

  Then he gave her a devilish smile and was instantly transformed from a thug into a creature so unfathomably attractive that she forgot to respond to his question. When he smiled, his cruel mouth turned up and drew attention away from his harsh features and he became less intimidating, almost friendly-looking.

  Startlingly blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned down at her over his shoulder and she felt herself gazing up at this metamorphosis in wonder. She tore her gaze away from his face, not wanting him to catch her awed expression. She sincerely hoped she hadn’t drooled.

  Mona suddenly became hyperaware that she was now gazing directly at his very spectacular, very firm-looking butt.

  “Hey,” he said in a deep, raspy voice that seemed to skate along her nerve endings. “I was just adjusting my bag. You don’t mind, do you?”

  Adjusting his bag? Her mind went blank for a moment. Why would she care if he adjusted his junk? The thought of watching him perform such an intimate act made her feel uncomfortably hot and she turned her face away to camouflage the tell-tale blush she knew must be creeping up her cheeks. And then her dazzled mind cleared and she realized he was talking about adjusting his guitar case in the storage compartment. Not the fascinating body parts hidden within the confines of his dark jeans.

  She took a steadying breath and met his gaze, determined to stay focused on the issue at hand instead of his panty-melting sex appeal. “Actually, I do mind. It’s not considered polite to manhandle other people’s possessions.” Her tone was snottier than she’d intended but instead of getting offended he seemed charmed by her antagonistic attitude. He half-turned towards her and his grin seemed to widen, revealing teeth so white and strong-looking she wondered if he’d appeared in any toothpaste commercials.

  “Here, let me get that,” she said impatiently. Standing up, she attempted to snake her arm around his broad back to grab her bag off his seat. Instead of moving out of her way like any normal person, he chose that moment to pivot his body until he faced her, making it so much more awkward to reach around him. She was forced to retreat if she didn’t want to end up with her face pressed against his magnificent torso. But her pride wouldn`t allow her to back off entirely so they both ended up in the middle of the aisle, nearly touching.

  Standing in close proximity to his hard body was a revelation. He was very tall. She had to look up to see his amused expression. This close she could also see the golden hairs of his afternoon beard scattered along his square chin. There was a small scar just below one ear which should have added to his disreputable appearance but that flaw only seemed to emphasize his masculine beauty. She could even smell him. Something outdoorsy and clean emanated from his pores, making her want to press her nose into his neck, take a big whiff, and hold it in her lungs to savour.

  Remembering tha
t she was annoyed with the man she retreated from his personal space. She shifted as far to the side as the seat would allow and made another grab for her luggage. This time her wrist brushed against his slim hip and she felt the hairs on her arms stand up in reaction. Clearly there was some electricity here. Just the simplest contact and she felt everything in her body come alive. She couldn`t remember ever feeling so aware of another person before. She felt hot and nervous and even a little giddy.

  Flustered at her body’s inappropriate reaction, she crossed her arms and gave him a disapproving frown. He still didn’t budge. Instead he effortlessly picked up her bulky bag from the seat behind him with one muscular arm and placed it gently in the overhead compartment. He took an inordinate amount of time nestling it in close to his guitar case and then closed the compartment lid with exaggerated care, looking at her the entire time.

  “There now. Your possessions are safe and sound. No need to get huffy,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Huffy?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I was not getting huffy.”

  “You sound huffy. And you definitely look huffy. Like a disgruntled kitten. But cuter.”

  “A kitten. I seem like a kitten to you?” She growled. She’d worked so hard to become a confident, in-control woman and now this brute was reducing her to the least imposing creature in the entire animal kingdom. She wasn’t even a tigress in his eyes. She was a fluffy, little kitten. Only slightly more intimidating than a stuffed teddy bear. How could a stranger make her so angry and turned on at the same time? Was this what Miss Bright had been talking about when she suggested a slightly less traditional fantasy might be the way to go? He certainly got her engine purring but there’s no way he’d be interested in her. He was way too much for her anyway. She was looking for something tame and tender, not wild and brutal. At least she was pretty sure that’s what she wanted.

  “See that?” He looked down at her crossed arms and impatiently tapping foot. A nervous gesture she couldn’t get rid of no matter how many counselling sessions she attended. “That’s huffy.”

  She uncrossed her arms and gave them a quick shake. “Huffy is not what I would call my current mood.”

  “Fine then. What would you call it?”

  “Annoyed? Irritated? Incensed maybe?”

  “Oh Honey. You need to relax. I didn’t harm your precious bag. There’s no need to get excited.”

  “I am not excited,” she lied. “I merely suggested that you might want to keep your hands off other people’s things.”

  “Oh really?” He eased in another inch towards her, until his mouth was practically brushing her ear. “What if I like putting my hands on other people’s things? Especially if those things belong to a hot little brunette with fire in her eyes and the most amazing legs I’ve ever had the pleasure to witness in my entire life.”

  She stared at him for several long, uncomfortable seconds. Had he really just said that? This wildly attractive, much younger man thought she was hot? It didn’t seem possible. It was much more likely that he was using charm to distract her from his rude behaviour, which was probably fairly typical for him. Well, she would just call him on it and prove that he was a big, muscular, sexy, phony.

  Mona gathered herself together and raised her chin to its most haughty angle. “And when exactly did you see my legs?” She raised one eyebrow in challenge. “They were tucked to the side while you were mauling my luggage. As far as you know my legs could be sporting some python-sized varicose veins or stubble long enough to braid.”

  “Long enough to braid? This I have to see. You really don’t strike me as the hairy bohemian type.” His smile widened and he attempted to dart a glance down at the limbs in question.

  Mona wagged a finger in his amused face. “No peaking. If you can describe my shoes then I’ll accept that your comment about my legs was sincere and not some kind of standard line you use to get yourself out of trouble.”

  “Trouble? Am I in trouble?” He gave her a wide-eyed innocent look but she just glared back at him. “You really don’t take a compliment very well, do you?” He grumbled and then closed his eyes. “Fine. One shoe description coming up.” He put the fingers of one hand to his temple like he was picking up psychic waves from the universe. “Your shoes are black and shiny with skinny little straps around the ankles. The heels are high enough to be sexy but not ridiculous, like you’re trying too hard.” He opened his eyes and all the humour was gone from his expression. The heat in his blue eyes was now hot enough to singe her skin. “They’re beautiful and classy, and probably expensive as hell but they don’t do justice to your legs.”

  “My legs?” She gulped, completely mesmerized by the hungry look in his eyes.

  “Yeah. Want me to describe them now?” He rumbled.

  She nodded, completely unable to speak.

  “Well, you’re not very tall but your legs are long and shapely. Not too thin but well-muscled and graceful. And they aren’t hairy at all. In fact, I bet if I ran my fingers down your calf they’d be just as smooth as warm satin.” He paused for a moment as if lost in that particular fantasy. “There’s a tiny beauty mark on the outside of your right ankle. Just above the strap of those sinful shoes.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. “Wow. That’s a lot of detail. When did you catch all that?”

  “Well, you were too busy frowning at the back of the seat in front of you to notice but before you accused me of accosting your possessions I was helping the little old lady two seats up with her bags. She had some trouble getting back into her seat so I had a good three or four minutes to study you while I helped her get settled.”

  “You were studying me? Why?”

  “Oh. C’mon. The question here is why wouldn’t I be studying you? There’s nothing on this plane more worthy of a good ogling than your legs. Or your eyes. Or just about anything of yours, for that matter. There’d be something wrong with me if I hadn’t been studying you.”

  She stepped back and gripped the seat for balance. “You actually think that?” She asked incredulously.

  He raised one eyebrow at her. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re gorgeous.” His gaze travelled down her body in appreciation. When his eyes reached her face again he gave her a puzzled look. “You must be used to guys saying that.”

  “Um no. I’m really not used to that at all.” She sat down again, trying to gather her thoughts. Was this actually happening? This entire situation seemed unreal to her. Apparently being thinner meant random, gorgeous, young men paid you compliments, even when you were being self-righteous and rude. How odd. And wonderful. Even if he was full of malarkey, as her mother would say.

  The bubbly flight attendant approached and he broke eye contact with Mona as he stepped back into the space in front of his seat to give the pretty woman room to pass. She gave him a blatantly flirtatious, ‘Why, thank you, Sir,’ as she brushed against his shoulder but he barely seemed to register the inappropriate gesture. He threw a vague smile in her general direction but instead of watching her pert behind twitch down the aisle he kept his attention firmly focused on Mona.

  Stepping back into the aisle he leaned casually against the empty seat in front of her and continued their conversation like they’d never been interrupted. “That’s a real shame. No offense, but your boyfriend must be a complete idiot.”

  She looked up at him suspiciously. “Why do you assume I have a boyfriend?”

  He rubbed his stubbly chin and gave her another one of those assessing looks that made her feel like she was nearly naked. “Well, women who look like you are always involved. And I don’t see a ring, so idiotic boyfriend is the logical conclusion.”

  She chuckled at his assumption. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Idiotic or otherwise.”

  “Well, how about an open-minded girlfriend then?” He asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

  She flushed. “NO!”

  “Well, then. I guess it’s safe for me to buy you a drink. To make up for the whole assault
on your luggage thing, that is.”

  “You don’t have to do that. Really.” She waved away the offer and reached for her book from the seat beside her, hoping to dismiss him before he realized how nervous and excited he made her feel. She’d been fairly cool until now but she couldn’t keep the pretense up much longer. Sooner or later her inner-nerd would reveal itself and then he would look at her in disgust. If he suspected she was a freakish 40-year-old virgin he’d probably parachute out of the plane to get away from her. She couldn’t bear that so she tried to ignore him by thumbing through the pages in her book and feigning disinterest in the incredible man nearly straddling her left knee.

  She should have known that a guy like him wouldn’t be dismissed so easily. Instead of slinking back to his seat he stepped even closer, until the soft cotton of his jeans brushed her bare legs. That got her attention and she stared up at him, unable to look away from the sincere expression on his face. “But I want to buy you a drink. You have no idea how much. Let me make it up to you, ok?” His eyes told her that buying her a drink was only one of many things he wanted to do for her.

  That scorching look was all it took. One minute he was an annoying stranger she wanted to boot in his perfect behind and the next she was thinking about how this man could be the solution to her whole virginity problem.

  And a totally exciting idea was born.

  Chapter Two

  “Tell me. Are you a member of the Mile-High Club?” Mona asked. She tried for a breathy, sexy tone but was fairly certain she sounded asthmatic instead. She was addressing the compelling man who’d accosted her luggage earlier. He’d boldly claimed the seat next to her instead of his own assigned spot across the aisle and was now quite inappropriately pressed against her side. They had been chatting for about an hour and a half and Mona had learned that Sam was actually a very smart and funny IT Specialist from Vancouver rather than the arrogant rock star she’d initially thought.