Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  “I’ll look forward to it, luv.”

  Both women flinched at the sound of the Aussie drawl. They looked up sheepishly, embarrassed at being caught ogling his picture and speaking about him as if he were a side of beef ready to be devoured. Though he didn’t seem to mind, did he?

  His long, lean body rested casually against the frame of the door leading into the conference room. He sported loafers, khaki pants, and a white dress shirt. Unbuttoned at the collar, the color enhanced his deep-bronzed tan. So did the puka beads around his neck. If it weren’t for the five o’clock shadow or the aviator sunglasses resting on the top of his tousled hair, he would look almost civilized. But there was nothing civilized about the gleam in his eye. He looked like an assassin zeroing in on a target.

  How long had he’d been listening? By his smile she guessed it was since the down-under part. Heat flamed across Victoria’s face and she resisted the urge to press her cool hands upon her cheeks.

  She handed the incriminating photo back to Ava and walked forward to introduce herself.

  He didn’t make it easy by continuing to lounge against the doorway. She put out her hand. “Mr. Rowland, nice to meet you. I’m Victoria Bryce.” Instead of shaking her hand as an equal business associate, he took it gently and raised it to his lips like they’ve just been introduced at a ball. A breath caught in her throat and she automatically tried to snatch her hand back but his grasp was firm. A tingling sensation skittered up her arm and her chest tightened as he tugged back. At any other time she would have thought she was having a heart attack. She instinctively knew he was just as dangerous as one, perhaps even more so. Maybe, her inner sight had sharpened a bit over time.

  “Just nice?” He gave her a disapproving frown. He brushed a light kiss on top of her hand. His smile returned. “It’s certainly a pleasure to meet you.”

  She willed herself not to outwardly respond, even as she internally melted into a pool of goo. Neither the photo nor the video clips did the man justice. After all, you couldn’t smell a picture, and now his ocean breeze scent assaulted her senses, making her wish they were kicking up some sand. Nor could you judge a man’s height. His bio read 6’2”, but it was 6’2” of pure maleness making her 5’2” female self want to climb all over him. His deep throaty Aussie accent washed over her like silk sliding across her naked body.

  “And let me state for the record I only go down under on the opposite sex.”

  Yeah, like anyone would question your sexual orientation. Regaining her ability to speak, she did manage to quip, “Neil will be so disappointed.”

  “Just as long as I don’t disappoint you.” His lips curved into a wicked smile. “Do you still think you can handle me?”

  She wasn’t going to back down. This was her and Neil’s show, not his. “No sweat.”

  “Just so you know I come with a warning.”

  I just bet you do, she thought. “Hmm, let me guess.” Probably something like ‘Ride At Your Own Risk’ but she couldn’t say that. A little too risqué even for her. “Don’t Feed the Animals?”

  “I don’t bite. Much anyway. No, it’s Fragile. Handle With Care.”

  Victoria couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped. Fragile? There wasn’t a fragile bone in his body. He looked like the type that wouldn’t mind being thrown onto a bed and allowing a woman to have her way with him. Just the way she liked her men. Except Russ would expect to have his way back. She could feel it in every fluttering nerve of her body. And what did he mean by ‘I don’t bite. Much anyway’?

  She would never be able to co-exist with this man. She had to put him in his place and do it fast. “Well, mine is No Trespassing.”

  “Sorry, luv, all I saw was Danger, Curves Ahead,” Russ drawled.

  The sound of Ava’s throat clearing jolted Victoria out her stupefied state of hormonal lust. Embarrassment flooded her. She had completely forgotten to introduce Ava to Russ. Not that Ava would hold it against her. In fact, she’d never let her live it down. The usually oh-so-cool Victoria was oh-so-hot-and-bothered. She stepped aside to allow her polar opposite, the five-foot-nine, blonde, blue-eyed beauty forward. Unreasonably giddy that Ava was currently on with her on-and-off again boyfriend, soap opera star, Josh Grillo, Victoria began the introduction. “Mr. Rowland, this is Ava Gardner, she’s my agent and friend.” She stopped herself from adding, “And taken.”

  “Cheers, Ava Gardner.” Russ tilted his head. “Like the actress?”

  “Yes, my mom’s little joke. Though I never made it past being a background actor.”

  “I’m sure you’re talents lie elsewhere.” He lifted Ava’s hand and gave it a quick peck.

  Ava uncharacteristically giggled.

  Oh, he was a charmer all right. Typical he-man whose primitive instinct drove him to spread his seed. Victoria wouldn’t be surprised if he had Neanderthal DNA running rampant through his blood. And God help her, it turned her on. What is wrong with me? He was so not the type she dated. She preferred men who were well dressed and well mannered. Well, at least outside of the bedroom she did. Russ was a certified bad boy. She’d bet it was stamped on his birth certificate.

  She probably wasn’t his type either. She frowned. Why did that fact bother her?

  “Looks like we can get started.” Producer Brett Hartman strode into the room, followed by two other men and one busty intern.

  Victoria took a seat farthest away from the door hoping Russ would go to the other end of the table. Those hopes were dashed as he slid into the spot directly across from her. He winked, flashing a knowing smile. If he started playing footsies underneath the table she’d kick him all the way back to the Land of Oz.

  He leaned back in the chair looking as though he was the star of the show and not an unwanted interloper. How could he be so relaxed? She was wound tighter than a bad celebrity facelift. Victoria tilted her head from side to side. A crunch relieved some of the tension. Despite her misgivings, she wished his tanned hands were busy massaging her shoulders instead of tossing a paperweight into the air and catching it with the flair of a Las Vegas magician. So unprofessional.

  God he rubbed her the wrong way. She looked away before she started thinking about him rubbing her the right way.

  Hopefully Neil would return soon and her attraction to Russ would be a non-issue. Perhaps she’d even indulge herself before he left the show and jump him American style. But what if Neil wasn’t back soon? Victoria wasn’t very good at controlling her sexual urges and having sex with Russ would muddy the show. It would complicate things. Working relationships were hard enough without adding sex into the mix. She learned that the hard way. But it seemed Victoria liked doing things the hard way because right now all she could think about was going at it with him like the paint mixing machine at the Home Depot.

  She suppressed a smile. Couldn’t let the Aussie bad boy suspect her attraction to him. However, if she didn’t reign in her thoughts and stop staring at him as if he were slice of cake behind the dessert counter, he’d figure it out.

  The first step, she shifted her gaze to the head of the table. Second, she drew up a master plan. Perhaps she’d take a page from her mother’s repertoire and play the social snob. That ought to keep Russ off the scent.

  “Vicki, what do you think?”

  Vicki? She glared over at him. Did he butcher her name to annoy her? Or did he think he was being funny? No one, not even Neil, could get away with calling her that. She channeled her mother and conjured up a snotty tone. “It’s Victoria, if you please.”

  Chapter 2

  That got her attention. Like a grade-school boy, he’d been itching to throw a paper clip at her, and like a teenage boy Russ would’ve aimed it at the ample cleavage she generously displayed. He tried his best to divert his gaze from the luscious swell of her breasts. Don’t look, his mind chastised. Dive in, his libido encouraged.

  The glossy ink blackness of her hair should’ve made the pale color of her skin appear washed out, but instead i
t shone like a South Sea pearl he once retrieved on a dive when he was twenty-six. Russ didn’t have to caress the elegant curve of her neck to see if she was just as smooth. But he wanted to.

  The sharp angled cuts of her hair mirrored her cheekbones, contrasting with full soft lips tinted with pink gloss. He wondered if it was of the flavored variety. Cherry? No, not red enough. Bubblegum? She licked her lips as if he’d willed her to do so. Maybe he had.

  Dressed all in black, from the killer spiked heels, leather skirt, and v-neck shirt, she resembled a comic book vixen. Except for the eyes. As clear blue as the waters off of Fraser Island, her eyes were like going through the New York steel jungle and coming upon Central Park. Unexpected, but welcomed. A haven. A haven?

  “Russ, do you think you can handle that?” asked Brett Hartman.

  “No worries.” With Victoria doing a walkabout inside his brain, he had no idea what Brett had said.

  As beautiful as a comic book vixen and just as dangerous, easily leading a man to his nefarious end. You’d think he would’ve learned the lesson taught to him only a month ago, sending him a half a world away to start over. Russ always thought of himself as a smart guy, but one look at Victoria had dropped is IQ by a third and him behaving like the bad boy the Australian press made him out to be.

  Not that he was a saint. Far from it. But he would never leave a woman at the altar because he’d never agree to arrive there in the first place. Just the word sent a shiver down his spine. To him, altar was synonymous with sacrifice, with his balls offered up to the matrimonial gods.

  Much to his mum’s distress, Russ was a bachelor for life. Did that make him a bad boy? No, but the things he wanted to do to Victoria’s body did.

  Russ had to be on his best behavior. But it was already too late. She intrigued him. Got under his skin, so he wanted to return the favor. Calling her Vicki was a good start. The way she’d said her name ‘Victoria’, rolling the ‘r’ like she was the bloody Queen of England rankled him.

  Hell, maybe if he annoyed her enough she would stay away and not look as if she wanted a taste of him. And she did want him, the no trespassing sign be damned.

  Fluent in female body language, his favorite subject since puberty, Russ knew all the tell-tale signs, the sly way she peered at him when she thought he wasn’t looking, the luminous tinge to her cheeks, the unconscious lick of her lips. And though she sat with her body shifted away from him, her arm rested on the table with her delicate hand pointed towards him. She didn’t realize it, of course. He was sure she’d be horrified if she did. Probably even try to deny it. Which was fine with him. Probably for the best.

  Russ couldn’t get involved with her, not even for a night. He couldn’t afford the fallout. Not that Victoria was a one nighter, but yeah, a weekend would do it for him. But not for her. Victoria was strictly girlfriend material. Russ didn’t do girlfriends. Girlfriends asked you to buy tampons.

  Not one to wear a watch and with his cell phone respectfully turned off, he glanced at the clock on the wall. Not that he had anywhere to be. At least not until 9:00 p.m., but meetings were a drag. He held back a yawn.

  “Are we boring you?” asked Victoria.

  Russ met her challenging gaze. What was with the uppity tone in her voice? “Never. Just a little jet lag,” he lied. He’d been in town two days, but she didn’t need to know that.

  “I think that’s a wrap, anyway,” interjected Brett.

  Everyone stood up. The producer shook Russ’s hand. “Good to have you on board.”

  They made small talk for a moment. He meant to run some ideas by the producer now, knowing better than to bring them up in the meeting, but the light vanilla scent of Victoria’s perfume captured his attention as she slipped by. It made him hungry.

  Brett patted him on the back as they followed the ladies out the door. After saying a quick good-bye, he caught up with Ava and Victoria at the bank of elevators. He cast a sweeping glance at her petite, but brick house body. The woman was stacked. “Vee, how about some lunch?”

  “It’s Victoria.”

  Her eyes tinged with frost like the outermost reaches of the Arctic. The haven had quickly become a hostile environment. Still, he couldn’t help himself from saying, “Doesn’t suit you.”

  “You don’t know me to know what suits me.”

  Yep, that stare could reverse global warming. “All the more reason for us to have lunch.”

  “I already have plans.”

  “Boyfriend?” He hoped she did. That would solve everything. Russ would never poach on another man’s territory.

  “None of your business.”

  “Her plans are with me. And she doesn’t have a boyfriend,” offered Ava.

  “Ava—”

  “Great,” he said without thinking. “Why don’t we make it a threesome?”

  Victoria arched an eyebrow. Ava smirked.

  These two were trouble. “I mean I’d like to go over the plans for the first show.”

  “We just did,” said Victoria.

  “Oh …” He wished he could blame it on his ADHD, but this time he couldn’t. It wasn’t a lack of focus. No, he’d been plenty focused. It was just directed in the wrong place—Victoria’s breasts. “Well, yeah,” he stuttered. “But you must have sketches, swatches … stuff.”

  “Sure, back in my studio.”

  “Then let’s all do lunch first and then you two can go to the studio,” said Ava.

  “Ava, remember …”

  Russ noticed Victoria’s poignant glance at Ava.

  “The reservations are for two.”

  “Victoria, you know …”

  Ava mimicked her client’s gesture.

  “That is not a problem.”

  Victoria took a deep breath, her chest heaving in the process. Russ looked up at the ceiling before he got caught staring.

  “Okay, then. But you’re going to have to get a tie.”

  “For lunch?” Where the hell were they going? He hated ties. Hated formal anything. Russ had avoided wearing suits for almost five years. Dress for success was not his motto. Success came from hard work. Still, this wasn’t Australia. This was New York City, fashion capital of the world. Not that his home county was backwards in anyway, but fashion was more casual than elegant. Maybe, just this once. He needed this co-hosting credit even if Neil could return at any time. Victoria already hated him. Did he really want to alienate her any further? Still, a tie? His neck itched just thinking about it.

  “If you don’t want to feel out of place.”

  Russ let out a sigh of relief. “No worries, then. I’m never out of place.” Which wasn’t true. Take the boardroom he’d just left. Or back home with his numerous brothers and sisters all sporting rings within three years of each other. The family station had become a marriage trap and damned if he’d be snared.

  “Hey Russ,” yelled Brett from down the hall, “they need you in personnel to sign paperwork.”

  “Here, I’ll write down the address and you can meet us there at one o’clock.” Ava scribbled on a note pad and tore off the page with a quick snap.

  The elevator chimed and the doors slid open.

  “Hoo-roo, then.” Russ took the slip of paper, turned away and headed down the hall, but before the elevator doors slid closed he heard Victoria say:

  “Hoo-roo? Ava, is that some kind of sex talk?”

  “Let’s hope so,” Ava responded.

  Russ smiled as the doors shut tight, wondering if Victoria hoped so too.

  Chapter 3

  Victoria sipped on a cosmopolitan. Normally she didn’t drink at lunch, but the delicious liquid, along with the two ibuprofen she knocked back, loosened the tight knot in her shoulder before it threatened to move up into her neck with a full blown migraine not far behind. She liked to call it preventive medicine.

  While Ava chattered on a cell phone with one of her other clients, Victoria scrutinized the decor of the restaurant. She didn’t know what they were thinking whe
n covering the overstuffed chairs in a hideous striped pattern. The designer who selected the fabric for the upholstery had given no thought to how it would clash with 5th Avenue fashions. Stark white walls accented with paintings of overpriced art hung throughout the space. The arcing cathedral ceilings honored those who considered food a religion. The waiters were as stiff as the white crisp tablecloths creased just so. Up-scale and uptight, Brooks reeked of big money deals. She preferred the hipper, retro places in the city, but Ava, for lunch meetings anyway, liked to be seen wheeling and dealing in posh establishments. At least the food was good, even if the portions wouldn’t fill a supermodel.

  Places like this encouraged three-hour lunches so she wasn’t surprised to find the absence of clocks from the walls. Didn’t want the high-powered suits feeling guilty on company time. She flipped open her phone: 1:07. Aggravated, she snapped it shut and picked up her drink for another soothing sip. “Where is he?”

  Ava ended her call. “Miss him already, Vicki? Or is it Vee?”

  The comment earned Ava a death stare. “He’s late. Again.”

  “What? Five minutes.”

  “Seven.”

  “He doesn’t know his way around yet. Give him some slack. Especially on the small stuff.”

  “You know the saying give an inch?”

  “Yeah, I bet he’s got ten to give you.” Ava took a sip of her apple martini.

  “Really? Ten?”

  “Changes things, doesn’t it?” Ava smirked.

  Victoria re-evaluated her stance on not mixing pleasure with business. Ava could freakishly estimate the size of a man’s penis like a carnie could guess your weight. She called it her ‘gift.’ And she was never wrong. Victoria and her sorority sisters learned quickly not to bet against the predictions. Nothing like taking the walk of shame to Ava’s dorm room to fork over fifty bucks, especially if the prediction was on the small side. The double screw, they used to call it. Eventually, Ava took pity on them and offered her expertise free of charge with a simple thumbs down or up. Oh, the poor boys in the bars of New York City. Some of them never even had a chance.