"You bitch."
"Better than the psycho you are." Fancy snarled between clenched teeth as she absorbed a punch to the gut from the other woman.
A thunder of footfalls raced to the room, shouts and screams following.
Fed up, Fancy gathered her energy. Taking a chance, she removed one hand from the woman's wrist and slammed it into her windpipe.
Darla crumbled to the floor, clutching her throat, with loud wheezing and choking sounds.
Knocking the gun away, Fancy spun around and kicked the prone woman in the kidneys. "That's for traumatizing a good guy." She repeated the action. "That's for scaring the pee out of me."
A flood of people scurried into the room. Out of the corner of her eye, Fancy saw Mitch stomp on Darla's wrist and kick the gun aside before yanking his pants on, zipping them quickly before reaching for his discarded shirt. A severe frown covered his face, a sure sign of leashed fury.
Fancy lashed out once more. "And that's for being a selfish nutcase."
A security officer pushed through the crowd. "Out of the way!" He stopped at Fancy's side. "What's going on here?"
Fancy panted from the physical exertion. "She tied up Mitch and threatened to kill me." Waving her hand, she continued. "The gun slid under the bed."
"Why?" an older lady with blue hair asked.
"She was obsessed with him. A true stalker." Fancy met Mitch's gaze, relieved he seemed to be okay. Physically. Poor guy. Emotionally, he had to be a bit rattled. She kicked at Darla once more for good measure, knowing Mitch wanted to but wouldn't.
"He's mine, I tell you. Mine!" Darla weakly protested.
"The bottle contains bitter almonds. She said she left a pitcher of toxic water in Fancy's room, would make sure she drank some if I didn't cooperate." Mitch's voice sounded steady despite his ordeal. The tone helped soothe Fancy's already frayed nerves.
A collective gasp carried across the room. People turned to stare at the items on the table, then back to the woman madder than a wet hen.
Ignoring the handcuffs waiting on the dresser, an older guy yanked a pair from his back pocket and slapped them on Darla, before dragging her stumbling to her feet.
Fancy stared in stunned silence. Darla was going to kill her?
No sooner had that small revelation hit than she watched as the man who had looked at her like common trash for an entire day of Genome Project presentations now took the bull by the horns and cuffed the deranged woman. When did I enter the Twilight Zone?
As if reading her mind, the guy pulled out his wallet. "Jones. FBI. We've been tracking this one for a while."
Huh? "But, you're a researcher…" The words tumbled out of her mouth.
He shot her a quick grin. "All a cover, lady." Pulling Darla to the side, he looked at Mitch. "You okay, buddy?"
Mitch blew out a breath and rubbed at his wrists. "Yeah. I contacted you a couple days ago. Thought you'd already picked her up."
The FBI agent shook his head. "She flew the coop right after your call. I figured the whole mission might be blown but decided to take a chance and hang around just in case."
"Glad you did, but it might have been nice to have some warning." Mitch glared at Jones. "Don't come knocking on my door asking for favors anytime soon." His gaze trailed from the older man to Fancy.
Jones chuckled, winked at Fancy, then pushed his arrestee out of the room.
The lingering effects of adrenaline hit her hard. Her hands began to tremble, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't slow the frantic pounding of her heart or draw in enough air.
Afraid of falling apart in front of Mitch and a dozen witnesses, she decided to bolt. "If you'll excuse me…" Fancy quickly departed the scene, hurrying to her room. Stopping just outside the door, she glanced down at the scratch marks and an angry bite on her forearm. The idiot probably gave her rabies. With an irritated sigh, she hurried inside, gathered her purse, then headed for the elevators and the walk-in clinic next door to the hotel, which she spied days ago. Human mouths were loaded with a variety of nasty bacteria, each capable of skin, tissue, and bone infections. Peroxide, a thorough cleaning, and an antibiotic ointment never hurt anyone.
With that thought, she punched the lobby button on the elevator.
Thirty minutes later, she emerged from the small clinic, the adrenaline mostly worked out of her system, replaced by fatigue and soreness. The muscles of her shoulders ached as did the handful of bruises to her legs. The bite wound stung the most, especially after the medic scrubbed it with a bristled brush. If she would have known that particular painful task lay in her future, she would have skipped the professional help, heading straight for the gift shop or nearby convenience store for her own supplies.
Just as she re-entered the lobby of the hotel, a loud crack of lightning flashed brilliant light through the windows, followed by rumbling thunder, enough to rattle the whole building. Both signaled a quickly arriving storm. The deep blue skies for as far as she could see promised the storm would last for a while. While the angry heavens suited her mood at the moment, Fancy grumbled in annoyance.
Now what am I going to do? Her plane was scheduled to leave at promptly nine am the next morning, meaning she had approximately sixteen hours left of vacation to spend as she chose, albeit stuck in the hotel. The quarterly meeting wrapped up the day before, eliminating the possibility of attending a few more presentations and increasing her knowledge. She could hang out in her room, take a nap, head to the workout room for a run. None of the suggestions garnered more than a lukewarm response.
A brilliant white banner caught her attention. The romance novel convention. According to the dates listed, the annual rendezvous lasted one more day. Maybe not her top choice, but considering the nasty weather and lack of other options, she chose the way of least resistance.
Chapter 20
Fancy plopped down on an empty seat, worn out and emotionally drained. Nothing like a mentally unhinged person to ruin the last day of her vacation.
"Here, have a penis pacifier." Molly stood before her, holding out a bright green sucker. "It makes the whole world all better."
"I thought that was chocolate?" Fancy answered wearily.
Molly quickly switched out the treats. "Chocolate flavored."
"That works." When in Rome… Without a second thought, she removed the wrapping and stuck the candy in her mouth. "When did the world turn on its end?" she muttered.
"Sweetie, the world has been one big loony bin for a while. Hadn't you noticed?" Molly sat down beside her.
"Not really."
"Where have you been holing up to not see the rampant craziness?"
"A research lab."
Molly nodded. "Seems to me you should get out more often."
"Why?"
The middle-aged woman grinned at her. "Because there's some wondrous things you're missing."
Fancy arched an eyebrow. "Such as?"
"Such as a gorgeous man with eyes only for you." She tilted her head to the side.
Glancing in the direction Molly indicated, Fancy found Mitch leaning against a wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest. A black oxford shirt hugged his upper body, showing off muscles and a nice build. Painted on matching jeans clung to thighs and the part of his rear she could see. The sparks in his deep blue eyes could only be described as steamy.
Where was that photographer? If she snapped a picture right then, cover artists would vie tooth and nail to purchase the photo for upcoming releases, knowing the cover art would entice more than one woman to shell out the cash for the book.
She sucked in a deep breath. "I don't know. I'm not even sure he likes me."
"With a look like that? That's a look of wanting, longing, and red hot desire. It gets any hotter, and he'll melt my suckers into a sticky mess."
"He's turned my life into a runaway roller coaster."
Molly laughed. "Girl, don't you know that's the best kind?"
Fancy shot her a bewildered look. "I'm not
looking for fast and furious. If anything, I want long-term, not a romance in Casablanca, otherwise known as the Central Hotel in downtown Seattle."
The other woman patted her hand. "People like roller coasters. They provide thrills, excitement, a hint of danger, and the unknown. You buckle yourself in and enjoy the ride for what it offers. Ups, downs, all out pedal to the metal speed, even the slow lazy beginning and end."
Fancy sighed.
"If you don't give it a whirl, you'll never know."
"How do you know?"
"This isn't my first rodeo." Molly grinned. "Or my first romance book convention. I've seen more than you can imagine. And what I see now is too good to pass up." She nudged Fancy in the back. "Go on."
With a quiet nod, Fancy turned back to Mitch, noting his patient stance and come-hither look. Molly's right. You never know until you try. Reciting the motto to herself, she walked slowly over, chewing her bottom lip in nervousness, her penis pacifier clutched in her hand.
* * * *
"Hi." The soft word trickled from her lips.
"Hi." He studied her face closely, finding tiredness, uncertainty, and a spark of hope in her big hazel eyes. "You okay?" Nodding toward her gauze-wrapped arm, he waited patiently for her to answer.
She lifted the wounded appendage, glancing down. "Yeah. Just a bite wound. I'll live." Her head tilted as her gaze raked his body. "How about you?"
"I'm fine." He searched her face for a long moment. "I'm sorry." He offered up the apology not just for her injury but for a few other happenings over the past few days.
"Not your fault." She shrugged, lifting her chin to meet his gaze.
His heart tugged with the expression on her face. All because of him. What did you say to a woman who stormed into the midst of danger and fought to rescue him? His damsel in distress turned determined tigress when the future appeared pretty bleak.
"Do you have plans for this evening?"
Fancy shook her head. "No. I've got a nine am flight in the morning, though."
Glancing around, he made a hasty decision. "Come to the party with me."
She blinked up at him. "We tried that once. It didn't work out well." Her flat tone told him she still stung from the minor disaster of Old West night.
Taking a chance, he wrapped her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips for a butterfly kiss. "I know. My screw-up. Let me make it up to you tonight. Please?"
A long moment of silence followed, broken only by the sounds of convention attendees murmuring in the background. He held his breath, praying she would agree. Because, one way or another, Fancy was going to be the belle of the ball that evening, even if he had to toss her over his shoulder and carry her to the auditorium. He owed her that much.
"Okay."
He released a large sigh of relief as a wide smile grew across his face. "You won't regret it."
Her lips twitched. "Don't make promises you can't keep."
Wrapping both arms around her middle, he drew her flush against his body. Leaning a bit, he lowered his face to hers. "Consider it written in stone." With those words, he meshed his lips over hers, gently learning and coaxing.
She responded hesitantly at first, then with more gusto, tilting her head and parting her lips on a sexy gasp. Taking advantage, he flicked his tongue over her lips before darting in for a deeper taste. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders, short nails digging in when he took a more aggressive line, cupping the back of her head while searching the recesses of her mouth and flicking over her tongue in an open invitation for further exploration.
Shyness evaporated as Fancy took the initiative, rushing headlong into the kiss, pouring passion and built-up desire into every touch, position, and surge of need. Mitch jacked up the intimacy, meeting her intensity and pushing her to greater heights until they broke apart, the need for oxygen separating them for the moment.
"Wow."
He grinned wickedly at her one word riposte. "Yeah, wow."
How many women had he kissed in his lifetime? Too many to count. Yet Fancy's unperfected show of affection rocked him in a way he couldn't ever recall feeling. His cock hardened in an instant, painfully constricted in his tight jeans, demanding release and satisfaction. All from a simple kiss. From Fancy. The woman who lived in a lab, lectured him on the laws pertaining to sex, and carried an uptight air and innocence that piqued his interest and prodded him to delve deeper. No other woman would do. Hell, if one of Charlie's Angels walked by, he still couldn't take his eyes off the little blonde standing in his arms, staring up at him with a look of curiosity, want, and happiness. His heart buoyed and clamored to hang onto her no matter what.
Love.
The realization hit him like a hard right hook to the jaw. Where the concept came from, he didn't know, nor would he question the feeling. All he knew right then was he had one more night with Fancy to make everything up and convince her to stay the course, wherever this rabbit trail might lead.
Leaning in, he kissed her again, pouring unspoken emotions into the brief act of affection.
Chapter 21
"Are you sure I don't need a costume or anything?" Fancy rested her hand on Mitch's forearm.
"Nope. Tonight is the final night. Which means we go casual. Whatever you want to wear."
She glanced down at her pink T-shirt, old jeans, and tennis shoes. Mitch wore a similar outfit, denim pants, tennis shoes, and a button-down oxford shirt. While their clothing choices might fairly match, he appeared much more dressed up and delicious than she could ever be.
Fancy sighed. A sentiment of closure threatened to cloud over her magical night.
"What is it?"
"Nothing." She refused to throw a damper on their final evening together.
Mitch paused at the entrance to the big party room and frowned down at her. Stepping to the side, he dragged her with him. "Fancy…" His deep blue eyes bored into hers.
Lowering her chin, she began. "It's just…"
He cupped her chin and lifted until she met his gaze. "Just what?"
"We both leave tomorrow, and I'll never see you again." She blinked and swallowed. "I know this is awkward, but I think I might have fallen for you and don't want this to be the end." There. I said it. Watching his face, Fancy held her breath, eagerly awaiting his reaction.
Surprise flashed across his features before his beautiful eyes sparked. Still holding her chin, he leaned down to rub his nose against hers. "Fancy. Fancy. You never cease to amaze me."
Uncertainty flared.
A slow grin appeared on his face. "Don't you know this is just the beginning?"
She blinked, unsure she'd heard him correctly. "The beginning?"
He nodded. "Oh, yeah. No way am I letting the best thing that's ever happened to me go."
"But, I can't compete with those models…"
He shushed her with a chaste kiss, pulling her into his embrace. "Baby, it's no comparison. You win hands down."
She soaked up his words, somewhat shell-shocked by his admission. Never in her life had she considered herself pretty or desirable to the other sex. Now, the sexiest man alive wanted to date her. She barely resisted the urge to pinch herself.
"Have you had your vision checked recently?"
He chuckled, hugged her tightly, then released her enough to peer down into her face. "You're the apple of my eye, Fancy. Now, would you do me the honor of becoming my Cinderella for the evening?"
She grinned at the phrasing, similar to what she'd told herself during the week. "Will you be my Prince Charming?"
"Only for you, love." He brushed his lips over hers, gentle and sweet, like a cool summer mist. "Don't worry. I'll kiss you awake in the morning."
His promise buoyed her heart, put a wide smile on her face, and dissolved all her worries. For tonight, she'd be a princess. Who needed an expensive ball gown, glass slippers, and a tiara? She had the man of her dreams at her side with a whole night of fun ahead and a sinfully wicked promise of the morning to come.
Fancy stood on tiptoe, wrapped her arms around Mitch's neck, and kissed him with all the passion, feeling, and sheer joy she felt. He responded immediately, opening his mouth and spearing his tongue inside, swirling for a deep taste. She gasped and mirrored his actions, reveling in the unique woodsy taste of him.
The sound of laughter broke them apart. Turning, Fancy found several women staring at them with knowing expressions on their faces.
"Come on, Cinderella. Your ball waits." Fancy looked up at Mitch, read the adoration in his eyes, and grinned happily.
For the first time ever, she truly felt like a princess. All because of Mitch. The man she'd fallen in love with.
* * * *
Two hours later, she couldn't wipe the smile off her face if she tried. Mitch focused all his attention on her, made her laugh, teased her, and praised her. Though others spoke with him now and again, he never left her out in the cold.
"Follow my lead." He took her hand in his and settled the other on her waist. Softly, he counted and moved his feet in intricate steps.
Fancy made two whole movements before landing on his toes. "I'm not sure I'm made to waltz."
He grinned down at her, kissed her nose, then shook his head. "I think it's your dance instructor."
He'd been trying to teach her ballroom dance steps half the night. So far, she had stumbled through each one, completing none, while stepping on his toes more times than she could count. A good sport, Mitch simply chuckled, moved on to another, and took every opportunity to wrap her in his arms. That fact alone kept her more than willing to give dancing another try.
"Nah. I'm pretty sure it's the student with two left feet."
The music changed to a slow dance.
Mitch spun her around, pulled her flush, and kissed her forehead. "Now this is more our speed."
Fancy agreed readily. His firm body under her hands, her breasts rubbing against his diaphragm, the wickedly intriguing bulge in his pants she felt as he rocked against her. Wow. Her stomach flip-flopped in the most delicious way. For the first time in her life, she wanted to burrow through the layers of clothing, expose a man's nude body, and explore each and every crevice to her heart's content. To finally see and touch Mitch's erection, know that she caused such a primitive reaction, and discover the mysteries of intimacy.
The Cover Model Page 9