Blogger Bundle Volume I: Dear Author Selects Unusual Heroines

by Jo Leigh, Kathleen O'Reilly, Kay David

  He wanted to leap over tall buildings in a single bound or astound her with his captivating wit. Neither of which was very likely. There was only one superhero in the Barrington family. Avery.

  He saw her to her building—some high-rise in a part of town that he had long forgotten. Time to go home, time to get drunk, time to wish he was somebody else besides Avery Barrington’s brother.

  5

  BRIGHT AND EARLY Monday morning, Grace knocked discreetly and then entered Amanda’s office sporting her latest eyewear—red plastic frames trimmed with U.S. flags at the sides. On anyone else, it might have been silly, but the office temp wore Old Glory quite well.

  “Hey boss. Barrington’s on line three.”

  Amanda’s fingers froze over her keyboard. “Joe?” she asked, trying to hide her eagerness.

  “Nah. It’s the doctor.” Grace sat on the edge of Amanda’s desk; her assignment was only three weeks ago and already she was at home. “You know, boss, I can’t see why you’re so taken with this Joe person. Now, this doctor, he’s the one. He sent you orchids again, by the way. They’re in the lobby. Want me to get them?”

  Amanda pulled off the glasses she used for her reading. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” Amanda handed her the trashcan filled with two pieces of paper. “Here, shred this.”

  “Boss, boss, boss.” The young girl clicked her tongue, her dark curls flying as she shook her head. “You know, we females are just so blind when love is involved. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Take a look at the facts. Your doctor calls at least twice a week—” she lowered her voice “—and I don’t think Joe has called once since I’ve been working the phones.”

  The truth really hurt. In Joe’s eyes, she was off-limits, and she might as well have been stamped with a big, red X.

  Why did she want an affair with him so badly? Was it the challenge? The need to succeed at everything she did? She touched her spotless desk with the two pens poised carefully in their proper places, and longed for disorder.

  “The Doc?” Grace pointed a finger at the blinking light on the phone.

  Amanda shook off her own version of personality trait hell and shot her temp a “get lost” glance. Which did absolutely no good. What did it matter anyway?

  She picked up the phone. “Avery?”

  “Amanda. Just wanted to make sure you received a delivery. Besides, the dulcet tones of your voice just brighten my day so.”

  Amanda sighed. “Avery, I was going to call you so I’ll get right to the point.”

  “Of course, with time as valuable as yours, chitchat should be kept to a minimum.”

  “Avery, could you come over this evening?”

  “But of course! Is something wrong? Did Joe do something to hurt you? I knew that nothing good could come of this—”

  “No, Avery. I just think we need to talk. Maybe seven?”

  “Could we make it eight?”

  “Dateline?”

  “You watch it as well? They’re doing a piece next week on Johns Hopkins. I’ve always wanted to lecture there.”

  Amanda smiled. Avery wanted to save the world, Joe wanted to fly around it and neither one of them was close. What a pair. “See you tonight, Avery.”

  “I’ll bring a bottle of wine. Rothschild perhaps. Must go. The hospital’s paging me. See you tonight then.”

  Grace looked at Amanda, a broad grin splitting her face. She held up one hand, a waiting high-five gesture. Trying to get in the spirit, Amanda responded, albeit a little half-heartedly.

  Grace didn’t notice and jumped right in. “The rose silk.”

  Amanda had no idea what that meant. “Pardon?”

  “You need to wear the rose silk you wore last week for the staff meeting. It’s so classy, but kinda sexy, too. You know?” The girl’s leg idly bumped against in the desk with an annoying thump-thump sound.

  “I’ll take it under advisement.” Amanda slid her glasses back on her nose. “Why don’t you hand me the D’Antoni file and then get out of here? I have a lot of calls to make.”

  “Sure thing, boss.” Grace delivered the case file then left, sighing heavily.

  Finally.

  Amanda lifted her receiver once more. This time to call Joe. She stared at the two pens, standing upright in their holder, a perfect ninety degrees. With quiet determination, she took one and laid it flat on the middle of her desk.

  “There.”

  Joe came on the line, the usual noises rang in the background.

  “Barrington.”

  Amanda twisted the pen, spinning it on her desk. “It’s Amanda. Avery will be at my place at eight. You’ll be there?”

  “I’ll be over at five til.”

  He couldn’t stand to be around her just one extra moment. Grace was right, she was a fool. “I’ll see you then. Bye, Joe.”

  But he had already hung up.

  After staring at the pen for a good three minutes, she blew out a breath and then put it back in its holder, propping it upright until it was perfectly aligned with the other.

  Last night, as they had danced so slowly, Joe had given her a long, wet kiss as if she were the only woman alive. As if he needed her more than air. Amanda’s life was planned and premeditated. She didn’t understand need like that, but it drew her to him. She hadn’t known it until now, but it was everything she always wanted.

  “EXCUSE ME, MARGE. I’ve been on hold for some time now. I really don’t want to hold anymore.” Amanda looked at the notepad full of drawings and sighed. She’d spent the last ten minutes on hold drawing pictures of ballpoint pens. She really needed to get out more.

  “I work very hard, Ms….. What did you say your name was, Ms.?”

  “Sedgewick. Amanda Sedgewick. Look, I know you work very hard and all, but I need to know who was Mr. Lowenthal’s secretary in 1971.” She put the pen back in the holder. No more doodling.

  “Clean-All has lots of records, Ms. Sedgewick. You’d have to submit a written request—”

  “Yes, of course I know you have a lot of records, but I’m sure that somewhere, somehow, someone can find this out for me. Perhaps if I came to your office and waited.”

  “That information is at the warehouse. And then there was the merger in ’83, and I think those personnel records might have been lost.”

  Amanda removed the newspaper article from the folder and scanned the text quickly. Lowenthal was mentioned, along with Boswick. “How about Mr. Boswick? Is he still working there?”

  “Oh, no. He got laid off in, um, let me see, must have been about 1994, maybe ’95.”

  “Do you know how I can find him?”

  “Boswick? Last I heard he was heading up the Operations Division for Atlantic Industries.”

  Amanda’s ears perked up. “Atlantic?” She’d met with them just last year over a workers comp case. She riffled through her Rolodex. A. Atlantic Industries.

  “Yes indeed. Got a sweet deal when he left, too.”

  “Thanks Marge. If you ever need a lawyer, you let me know.”

  Amanda hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair. D’Antoni case. Day Four. Progress.

  Now she just needed to track down Boswick at Atlantic Industries. She took one last look at the old newspaper headline—Airline Lawsuit Settled—before folding it and putting it in her briefcase. The sun was starting to lower in the office window and she realized it must be later than she thought. She checked her watch—five-thirty. Darn. She could at least call Boswick and see if he left the office for the day. And she needed to spruce up the apartment before Avery came over. And Joe. Before Joe came over.

  That brought a smile to her face. She had big plans for Joe Barrington this evening.

  She straightened up her desk and put D’Antoni’s file in her briefcase. She’d take that home with her. She could call Boswick from her cell phone on the way home.

  FOR SOME unexplained reason, Joe found himself at her door at seven-fifteen. He rang the bell, refusing to analyze hi
s motive for showing up early, refusing to admit that maybe he did want to see her before Avery got there.

  She opened the door, her hair wrapped in a white towel, her body wrapped in a long, white satin robe. Her smile alone made the visit worth it. “Come on in. Sorry. I’m running a little late. Work. It never stops.”

  He followed, watching her satin-covered butt, wondering what she was wearing underneath it. No panty-lines whatsoever. His heart skipped a beat, the rest of him cheered as well.

  She didn’t say anything about him being early, thank God, because he didn’t have any answers.

  “I’m just getting dressed. You want something to drink?”

  He shook his head.

  “I was thinking you could wait in the bedroom while Avery’s here. If I leave the door open, you can hear everything that’s being said.”

  Joe’s thoughts slammed back to the present, unpleasant situation. He wasn’t CIA or FBI. “Look, Amanda, I shouldn’t be here. This is just silly.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “This is what you wanted.”

  Point for the lawyer. “Well, yeah, but I was…you know, not right.” Her head tilted, the towel balancing nicely. How did women do that?

  “Wrong? Is that what you’re trying to say? Wrong about what, Joe?”

  Admitting being wrong did not come easy to Joe, and he thought, preparing a response, wanting to help her, wanting to look intelligent, but not ready to commit himself too far. It was a guy thing. “Tonight. You don’t have to do this. I was pissed and I should have just shut up. You don’t have to prove anything to me.” He stayed silent for a minute. Finally, he said that words that he’d come to say. “I trust you.”

  That brought a smile to her face. He really liked it when she smiled. Really liked it when he made her smile.

  “Why the change of heart?” she asked quietly.

  “Avery called. He wanted to know what I’d done to you.”

  Amanda muttered something Joe couldn’t hear, but he didn’t think Avery would be flattered. “I told him you hadn’t done anything.”

  Joe brushed it off with laughter. “It’s all right. He’s used to thinking the worst.” Usually Avery was right. “He’s just concerned. He doesn’t want me to hurt you.”

  Amanda sat down on her couch, crossed her legs. “This is between me and you, not Avery.”

  Joe eyed her bare thigh peeking out from under her robe and imagined how it would feel wrapped around him. “Amanda,” he said, in what was supposed to be a warning. Instead it sounded like a plea.

  “Yes?” She looked up at him, all innocence. Like she didn’t know exactly what was going on in his head.

  Somehow he needed to get back to the subject at hand. “Look, Amanda. Talk to Avery. I’ll stay out of sight. If he doesn’t see sense, after he leaves, we’ll get that robe off—”

  Joe bit his tongue. Hard.

  Amanda stood up and walked toward him, her hands at the tie on her waist. “If you want—”

  “Gee, look at the time! You better get dressed.” He pulled her into her bedroom. “Unless you want Avery seeing you…seeing you…” looking like every guy’s favorite fantasy. He waved his hand. “Like that.”

  Amanda smiled again, this one a little more confident than the last. Just what he needed. “You’re right.” She smiled. “Anything you want to watch while I’m getting dressed?”

  His gaze flew up to meet her eyes before he realized she was talking about the TV that sat on her dresser. Pervert. “I’ll be fine.”

  Without a word, she handed him the remote and departed to the confines of her closet, which appeared to be as big as his whole apartment.

  He glanced around the room. Bed, dresser, big mirror over dresser.

  She emerged three minutes later with a dress hooked over her arm. Lace scraps dangled from her hand and he swallowed. He really did not need to see her underthings. She headed for the bathroom behind him, and called over her shoulder, “I’ll only be a minute. Make yourself comfortable.”

  Comfortable? She was just in the other room—naked, al fresco, bare, nude—he was in her bedroom, alone with her bed—he glanced at the Big Beast and laughed.

  He should have known. It was a full-size bed with at two pillows that looked as if they’d been pressed and plumped.

  Her comforter was a soft white thing and he was able to handle everything until he noticed the sheets peeking out from the corner.

  Satin. White.

  Geez. A part of him wanted to run screaming from the room. He’d never slept in satin sheets before, but suddenly his mouth was watering at the thought of doing just that. He collapsed on the bed and fingered the silky material.

  Amanda slept here. Probably in some slinky lace teddy thing that cost more than one of his paychecks.

  That was the way Amanda would make love. Silk, satin, candlelight and flowers. That’s the woman she was.

  He stared at his reflection in the mirror, sitting on her bed like he belonged there. When they made love, every movement, every image would be vibrantly available right in front of his eyes.

  God, he was getting hard. It was so easy to imagine.

  She seemed so vivid, so real. All that white satin flesh reflected in front of him. A heart-shaped butt that was perfectly symmetrical. His hands clenched. She brushed out her hair, her arms raised, her breasts firm and uplifted. She looked more like one of those great Italian sculptures—Bernini’s Daphne—than a living, breathing woman.

  Somewhere in the distance he heard a whimper. Yup, that was him all right. Weak, Barrington, very weak.

  He rubbed his eyes, willing the fantasy away. But when he opened them again, she was still there, and that’s when it clicked. This was no fantasy. She was real, and he was sitting here, watching her reflection in the mirror.

  Some bit of suspicion popped into his head. Was this on purpose? Another trick to get him into her bed? He looked down, noticed the way his jeans were suddenly four sizes too tight and admitted her trick was working.

  Nah. He’d been watching too many conspiracy movies. Instead of playing the voyeur-extraordinaire, he should be watching TV. He leaned back against the pillows, pressed the On button and tried to concentrate on the images. It was a wasted effort.

  TV was boring. Amanda getting dressed was not. And what would it really hurt? Hell, she had probably planned the whole thing.

  His eyes, happy to be relieved of any guilt, cut back to the pure perfection of Amanda Sedgewick’s body. Her skin was so fair it was almost silver. She started to apply lotion to her body, her hands smoothing, touching, and in his mind he started to mimic her movements, as if he were rubbing her down.

  She turned sideways, and sucked in her breath, patting her stomach, and Joe smothered his laughter. No, she didn’t know she was being watched.

  At that exact moment, she lifted her head, and got a good long look at Joe Barrington in her mirror, eyes hot, jaw tense and mouth slightly open.

  Busted.

  He couldn’t look away and she didn’t even try. Her head tilted, a question in her eyes. Her fingers splayed on her stomach and then they moved. First up, to cover her breasts, almost in modesty, but mostly in seduction. Her fingertips trailed over her nipples, and he groaned.

  She smiled, slow and aware, and her hands moved down, lower, lower. He rose, not thinking about any of the reasons he shouldn’t be doing this, and started toward her. All he wanted to do was to taste her skin, kiss that sinful mouth and tease the places that would make her scream.

  He was halfway across the room and the intercom buzzer blasted above the sound of his own tortured breathing.

  Avery.

  Joe closed his eyes and found a chair in a far corner of the room. Far away from temptation, far away bedroom tricks with mirrors. A few seconds later, Amanda walked out of the bathroom, safely dressed in peach silk, her hair pulled back away from her face and twisted up on her head. She looked elegant, untouchable, and completely forbidden.

 
“Joe?”

  “Go buzz him up.” His voice was hoarse and he had trouble forming words.

  She didn’t respond, just stared for a minute. After three heartbeats, she turned away and walked out the room.

  AMANDA’S LEGS were unsteady, but they carried her to the front door. She pressed the button to let Avery in and then rested her head against the door. She was turning into an exhibitionist and my, it was quite…stimulating.

  If not for Avery’s untimely arrival, she knew exactly what would have happened.

  It thrilled her to realize how close they had come and a part of her body was still humming, waiting for a release. Maybe he would stay after Avery left; maybe he would see how futile it would be to keep fighting the sparks between them. Maybe he would now understand that Amanda Sedgewick could tease and tempt just as well as any female that he might have favored in the past.

  Maybe he could like her.

  Avery knocked at the door, eliminating any more thoughts of a late-night seduction. First things first.

  Dealing with Avery.

  6

  AVERY ALWAYS LOOKED so well-pressed. Amanda stared down at her own wrinkle-free silk, and grimaced. “Please, come in.”

  He bowed low from the waist and brought forth a bottle from behind his back. “A rare vintage for the rarer flower.”

  From her bedroom, she heard a muffled cough and she was glad she’d left the TV on.

  “Avery, sit down.”

  Obediently, he sat and then pulled a bottle opener from his jacket and proceeded to start uncorking the wine. “I brought everything but the goblets.”

  She nearly ran to the kitchen, finding two crystal glasses. When she entered the living room once more, he was sniffing the cork appreciatively. With a loud clank, she placed them on her Danish modern coffee table, then seated herself on a chair that was a safe distance away. Not rude, but not encouraging, either.