Playboy Prankster

by Pamela Britton

  “You’re comparing me to Ed?” He shook his head in disgust. “So the bastard broke up with you, that’s no reason to—”

  “He didn’t break up with me, I broke up with him once I realized what he was truly after.”

  “A new motorcycle?” he guessed.

  “No,” she said. “Ed wasn’t the one who bilked me out of ten-thousand dollars. Ed was the man who cost me my last job.”

  Wow. And he thought he had some bad taste. “What happened.”

  She shook her head, almost as if she wasn’t going to answer. “He raided my idea file.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She met his gaze. “My idea file. For articles. I had no idea he’d taken a peek at it until the first of my ideas ended up as front page news, under his byline. When I confronted him about it, he made it sound as if I was crazy. But then he did it again and I got angry. Unfortunately, the senior editor believed him over me.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Life isn’t fair,” she said.

  “And now you think I’m using you, too?” It all clicked into place. At last he understood. But this he could deal with.

  She glanced at him. “Shouldn’t I? You’re never with one woman for very long. And every picture I’ve ever seen of you you’ve always had a woman by your side who looked like Cinderella with a boob job and on a good hair day. How can I hope to compete? Not that I want to, mind you,” she added quickly.

  “You want to, all right.”

  “Hah.”

  “And all those other women meant nothing to me.”

  “Just like I won’t mean anything when having sex with Blimpo the Hippo wears off, trust me.”

  “Your self-image is so way off, CJ. Don’t you ever look in the mirror?”

  “Yeah, it cracks every time.”

  “Bull. You have a beautiful body, and the most gorgeous pair of eyes I’ve ever seen. And, obviously, I’m not the only one who thinks so. Or did you forget Miles, the boss that made a pass at you too?”

  “Oh, I remember.”

  “Then you should recognize how beautiful you are.”

  “Oh yeah?” she asked, looking out the window again. Ed told me the same thing. The words were unspoken, but he knew she was thinking them. Damn it. Didn’t she know that he was nothing like Ed? Didn’t she understand she had more going for her than looks? There were streaks of dirt and grime on her face. Her dark, chestnut hair peeked out from beneath the helmet in static spikes. A sheen of moisture covered her upper lip, but to him she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

  And it hit him in that instant that he’d really fallen for her.

  “Bryce,” Harry’s voice bellowed over the radio. “I hope you’re not off course again.”

  Bryce didn’t answer for a moment, but when CJ remained obstinately silent, he clicked open the mic. “We’re fine, Harry.”

  “Good. ’Cause I’m hoping you and CJ are planning to finish the race sometime today? Or should I call up the Children’s Foundation and give them your credit card number instead?”

  “Just give us a second,” Bryce said, the amazing revelation he’d had making him struggle for thought. He really, really liked her.

  Silence, then a brief burst of static. “What? You and CJ trying to flash more helicopters?”

  CJ jerked in her seat.

  “No, Harry. We just needed to make a little pit stop.”

  “How’d he find out about the helicopter?” CJ whispered frantically.

  “Ahh, Harry. CJ wants to know how you heard about the helicopter?”

  “Heard about it? Hell. Who hasn’t?”

  CJ leaned back in her seat and groaned.

  “Roger, Harry. Thanks, we’ll be on our way in a sec.”

  “I’m dead,” CJ moaned. “The minute I get back to the office I’m dead.”

  “Relax, hon.”

  “Relax. I’m about to lose my job, my reputation is going to be in shreds, and you want me to relax?” She glared over at him. “Thanks. I’ll try to remember that when I’m standing in the unemployment line, or when I’m living in a cardboard box because I couldn’t afford to pay my rent.”

  She’d never come near a cardboard box, not if he had anything to say about it. Now that some of the shock of his revelation had worn off, he realized how right it all was. CJ might take a little convincing, but one day she would know it too. All she needed was to accept that she wasn’t a flash in his pants.

  “You’re not going to lose your job,” he said gently.

  “Oh, yeah? That’s what you think.”

  “Why would Miles fire you over this? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “You don’t understand. Miles hates me. I rejected him, remember?”

  “Of course I remember, but he wouldn’t take it that far, would he? He wouldn’t really fire you for getting involved with me, would he?”

  For a long moment CJ debated whether or not to tell him. But what the heck. Maybe she could scare him off. “Actually, there’s more to the story than I told you before.”

  He stared across at her with lifted brows. As if to ask, yeah, so?

  “When he was out of the office one day, I squeezed Crazy Glue into his condoms.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I knew he carried them because he had one out that day in the closet.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Bastard carries them around in the event he can corner some other hapless female in a supply closet. So I squeezed Crazy Glue into his condoms then re-sealed the packages. I thought it would harden the darn things up, you know, sort of spoil his moment of passion, but damned if that glue stayed moist.”

  His mouth dropped open.

  “Not only that, but from what I heard, he was able to pull the thing on. Glued the latex right to him.”

  His eyes widened.

  “The paramedics had to use acetone to get it off. Which was the only thing Miles got off on for the next two months. I guess it took a while for the skin to heal.”

  She settled back in her seat and waited for his reaction.

  It came almost immediately.

  He threw back his head and laughed, roared so hard CJ almost jerked the helmet from her head to stop it from resonating in her ears.

  “Damn,” he gasped. “That has to be the best revenge story I’ve ever heard.”

  “I’m almost positive he knows it was me, but he can’t prove it. So he amuses himself by sending me on the most miserable of assignments, and making my life hell, and doing whatever else he can to exact revenge.”

  He was grinning from ear-to-ear. “Sounds like Miles is a real schmuck with no sense of humor.”

  “Would you think it funny if someone glued your hand to, well, you know where?”

  “It depends on who did the gluing and if whipped cream was involved.”

  “You’re sick.”

  “C’mon, Ceej, you sound like you actually feel sorry for the guy.”

  “Feel sorry for Miles? Hah! I only wish his other hand had been glued to his behind.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  She looked away from him. “Nothing. Everything.”

  “You’re worried I’m going to dump you, too, aren’t you?”

  Duh! Hadn’t she come right out and admitted that fifteen minutes ago? “How can I be worried over something that will never happen?”

  “You’re right, CJ It will never happen.” And danged if he didn’t look at her with the tenderness of a lover, which he was…had been. Once. Never again.

  “You misunderstand me, Bryce. It’s not going to happen because you and I aren’t going to happen.”

  “CJ—”

  “When we arrive at the next checkpoint, I’m getting out,” she continued, “you and I will go our separate ways. No hard feelings.”

  “No hard feelings,” he repeated incredulously.

  “Yes. I want to end it here. It was fun, but—”

  “—why do
n’t you give me a call sometime,” he finished for her through his teeth. “Is that what you were going to say?”

  “Actually, I was about to suggest we be friends.”

  His black brows rose. “C’mon, Ceej. There’s more to our relationship than that.”

  Yes. Yes, there was. For her. And that scared the bejeezus out of her. So she was pulling the plug. Now. Before things got too out of hand and she opened herself up to even more hurt.

  “Besides,” he continued, the look in his eyes one she’d never seen before. “I told you I’m not stopping to let you out today.”

  “Bryce—”

  “It’s just a few more hours, CJ. You’re not going to give up so easily, are you?”

  “I have no choice.”

  “Sure you do. Just sit back. Enjoy the ride. I promise to take care of you. No more bruises. Think about things for a little while. Think about us.”

  “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

  “CJ, honey, I haven’t gotten where I am today by stepping back and allowing something I want to slip through my fingers.”

  Determination. That’s what was in his eyes. Hard, steely determination. Gone was Bryce-the-carefree-playboy, in his place was Bryce-the-hot-blooded-predatory-male.

  “And, CJ, I want you.”

  Heaven help her, his words sent a pulse of liquid lust surging through her veins.

  So she stuck it out, but the second the race was over she did what any self-respecting female in her position would do. She ignored the call of the wild and ran for the hills, slinking around the truck stop parking lot the officials had commandeered for the end of the race like Bugs Bunny avoiding Elmer Fudd. It was actually pretty easy. The parking lot was jammed with people. The haulers were parked in a long line leading right up to front door of the diner. For a moment CJ contemplated hiding inside the beige building, but that was too obvious. No. Best to wait somewhere else, somewhere where Bryce would never think of looking. She straightened suddenly.

  One of the haulers.

  Specifically, Kathleen Seavers’s hauler. Bryce would never think of looking for her there.

  She turned away, making her way through the crowd and grumbling under her breath the whole way. It was packed. Apparently half of Nevada had wanted to watch the end of the race. Well, at least there was one thing to be grateful for. The race was over.

  “CJ,” a little voice called out excitedly.

  CJ turned, spying one of the little boys she’d met at the beginning of the race. Daniel.

  “Hey, kiddo,” she called in greeting. “What are you doing here?”

  “Susan brought me over. She’s over there,” he motioned to somewhere behind him. She spotted the woman trying to make her way through a crowd, a harried expression on her face. “I wanted to be at the finish line when Bryce crossed it, but we were late. Did he win?”

  “No,” she said. “I’m sorry, kiddo, but we, ah, we broke down out there.”

  “Aww, too bad,” he said.

  He looked so disappointed she found herself squatting down next to him and saying, “Hey. Maybe he’ll make it up to you. Maybe he’ll take you shopping in one of his stores or something.”

  “You think?” the kid asked, his face lighting up. But then his smile faded. “He already does so much for of us. Did you know he bought us a new home?”

  That caught CJ’s attention. “He did what?’

  Daniel was nodding, his face full of pride as he explained, “It wasn’t really new. The home we were living in was falling apart. Mr. Danvers had some men come in and fix it. Paid for a hotel for us to stay in while they worked on it and everything. It was neat. I got to swim at the hotel every day.”

  She huffed out a breath of disbelief. Okay, maybe not disbelief, more like resignation.

  “That’s neat,” she said, glancing around, terrified she’d see Bryce. It couldn’t take him that long to say a few words into a camera.

  “Listen, Daniel. I’ll speak to Bryce personally about that shopping trip, just the minute I see him.”

  “Do you know where he is?” Daniel asked.

  “He’s over by the finish line,” she said, pointing back the direction she’d come. “And I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

  “Okay, thanks,” and the kid was off like a shot, Susan darting past CJ in hot pursuit, a hastily muttered greeting aimed her way. She really was glad the race was over, she told herself, spotting the Snappy Lube hauler up ahead. Her shoulders were killing her and she doubted she’d be able to sit down without wincing for a week. Once she found Kathleen, she could bum a ride to her hotel and get out of Dodge.

  If you’re so glad, why do you feel so downright depressed?

  Because I’m about to start my period, she screamed at the voice. Now leave me alone while I try to escape.

  She found the Seavers’ transporter parked four spaces away, a crowd clustered around the open back as they waited for the off-road racing legend to make an appearance. CJ fought her way through them and flagged down the nearest person wearing a Snappy Lube uniform; an older man with thin, gray hair and skin gone craggy from too many hours in the sun.

  “Is Kathleen Seavers around?” she asked, wondering if he’d ever thought of using a moisturizer.

  “She’s inside the helicopter…I mean the hauler.”

  She was so intent on studying his skin that at first his words didn’t register, then her eyes narrowed. Good Lord. Did everybody know about the helicopter?

  “Very funny,” she muttered.

  “Go on in,” the man said.

  She did exactly that.

  There was just one problem.

  Bryce was sitting in the lounge when she opened the door.

  Damn. Damn. And double damn. If it weren’t for Kathleen’s presence, she would’ve stomped her feet in frustration.

  “There she is,” he cried like a man greeting a long, lost relative. “CJ, we were just talking about you.”

  She placed her hands on her hips and glared. “I thought you were giving interviews.”

  He smiled complacently. “And I thought you were in the bathroom.”

  “I was in the bathroom,” she lied. “The one in the restaurant.”

  “Ah huh,” he drawled in his southern accent.

  “I was.”

  “Sure, CJ, and I’m Dwight Yokum.”

  “Yeah, well I hated your last album.”

  His smile grew.

  So did her ire. “Damn it, Bryce, can’t a girl have some time alone? I was hoping Kathleen and I could, er, chat.” Which was probably sounded stupid, but it was worth a try.

  “Later,” he clipped, his blue eyes swinging toward his friend’s wife. “Kathleen, darlin’, would you mind leaving us alone for a minute?”

  To her credit, Kathleen looked uncomfortable with the request. Perhaps she was feeling bad about the hotel room incident. “Well, I ah—

  “Lock it too, will you, Kath?”

  “No,” CJ said. “Don’t go.”

  Clearly the woman was torn, but her loyalty to Bryce won out. That or she worried about losing her husband’s new sponsorship deal.

  “You and I can talk later,” she said, slipping out the door before CJ could call her back. The key clicked in the lock. CJ squelched the urge to fly after her. Instead she kept her eyes firmly focused on Bryce, a Bryce who looked like Hollywood’s version of a race car driver with his slight shadow of stubble on his chin, his skin tanned from the desert sun, and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief and something else.

  “CJ,” he said with a wolfish smile. “Why don’t you come on over and sit down next to me.”

  “Not without a can of Raid.”

  She caught the smile which just about broke free before he shook his head. “And there you go being rude to me again.”

  “Get used to it because that’s all you’ll ever get from me.”

  “Oh, I’m used to it all right. Hell, I kinda like it.”

  “I’m not sur
prised. You probably like whips and chains too.”

  He pursed his lips, a look of mock consideration on his face. “Nope. But with you I might be willing to give it a try.”

  “Great. I’ll talk to Harry about getting you some. He might even be able to arrange someone to play with you too.”

  He smiled, a donkey-in-the-grain-bin sort of smile. “But I don’t want to play with someone else. I want to play with you.”

  “Don’t bet the farm on it, Bryce.”

  He shifted then slowly unfurled himself from the couch. “Oh, I’d be willing to bet a lot more than the farm, CJ.”

  CJ resisted the urge to step back. The Seavers’ lounge was an exact duplicate of Harry’s except for the small desk to her left. Unfortunately, that meant throwing herself out the window was out of the question. There was no window. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and said, “You’d lose.”

  “Lose what?”

  “Your bet.”

  “Would I?”

  She tilted her chin. “Absolutely.”

  “Care to test that theory?”

  She uncrossed her arms. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” she asked bravely, too bad it was such a stupid question. She could see exactly how he planned on doing it.

  “Stick around and you’ll find out.”

  She wanted to be stuck all right, which just proved her theory. She was a masochist. A part of her didn’t care that he had the power to hurt her thousand times more than Ed ever had. And that thought scared her too. But she still couldn’t help but wonder if it’d feel any better on a couch than on the bumper of a truck, not that she could let that happen.

  “Nope. No way,” she said aloud in an attempt to convince herself.

  “Yes. Yes, way, CJ.” He took another step toward her. “You want it.”

  She told her feet to stay planted right where they were, even though they didn’t want to listen to her. “No, I don’t want it, Bryce.”

  He took another step, their bodies only inches apart now. “Yes, you do. You crave me, just the way I crave you.”

  She flicked her head. “What I’m craving is a Big Mac with cheese and a bag of fries all to myself.”

  “Liar,” he said softly, taking another itty bitty step.

  Her eyes caught on his lips. Such fine lips they were; well defined, masculine…“Sexy, er, ahh, I mean sex.” She blinked up at him. “I meant to say there you go thinking about sex again.”