Evernight Publishing
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2014 Beth D. Carter
ISBN: 978-1-77130-760-4
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
Thank you Evernight Publishing for saying yes and to Karyn for helping me bring this story to life.
Also, to Lark. You know why, Bestie.
ON CALL MISTRESS
Romance on the Go
Beth D. Carter
Copyright © 2014
Prologue
“You’re such an unfeeling bastard!”
Giovanni Marcari raised an eyebrow and waited for the temper tantrum to run its course. Whatever had caught his attention about Stacia had long since disappeared. She might have the body of a goddess, but she had the emotional depth of a rock. Sure, he was willing to play the game, buy the gifts to make her feel important, but the shallow greediness had more than worn out his patience.
It could be the fact that he missed Lexy.
It had been four months since he had last seen her, and he realized he had only taken Stacia out to alleviate the loneliness clawing at his heart. But she was a bitch of the highest caliber, and he was finished with trying to satisfy her childish antics.
“I think it’s time for you to go.” He picked up his phone and waited for security to answer. “Miss Kaminich will be leaving. Make sure she’s not permitted back onto the property.”
He hung up his office phone and turned back to see her mouth hanging open.
“You … you can’t do that! I’m your girlfriend!”
“No, Stacia, You’re a woman I fucked for a couple of months, much to my regret. And now it’s over. Good-bye.”
He waved Anthony, his butler, over to escort her out of his office, as well as his house. When she was gone and the last of her curses had died away, he turned to stare out of the window.
He was tired of the game. He was tired of always feeling empty after a meaningless fuck. The only time he never felt so … used … was when he was with Lexy. Maybe that was because he usually only spent two days in her company, or maybe it was because he knew he’d be seeing her soon. Maybe he was having a mid-life crisis. He should be happy that he didn’t have far to look for a sexy woman to fill his bed.
Still…
He picked up the contract that had arrived the day before. Not only was it lucrative monetarily, it would let him find and produce side projects. He could have a nice home with MacGordon Pictures and work on projects that he was passionate about, like helping up and coming film makers get their works off the ground and funding under-privileged schools with theater classes.
Plus, being in Los Angeles would give him plenty of opportunity to be with Lexy.
With the decision made, satisfaction slowly replaced doubt. He picked up the pen and signed his name. There’d be more papers to sign, of course, and he’d be working those out with his lawyers.
And he tried to ignore the thrill he got knowing he was going to see Lexy again … soon.
Chapter One
“Listen to this,” Marcy exclaimed from the magazine her nose was buried in. “Italian director Giovanni Macari, 39, has called it quits with his model girlfriend of three months, Stacia Kaminich, 19. Well, of course it only lasted three months! I mean, what could they possibly have had to talk about once the sex fizzled out? Her homework?”
Lexy Carmichael shot her a grin. “I’m sure he didn’t date her for her intelligence.”
Marcy snorted. “34-25-34 measurements only get you so far. Imagine going out to dinner and your date can’t even legally order a drink. Signore Macari needs to realize he’s not a twenty-five year old hot actor anymore.”
“No, now he’s just a thirty-nine year old hot director.”
“Exactly! He needs to find himself a woman, not a girl. A woman who can give him the best manicure as well as the best facial in all of LA.”
“Marcy, you’re not much older than that model,” Lexy reminded her friend. Marcy was an esthetician and was always singing her own praises.
“Ah, but I’m not a teenager. And I can spell Shakespeare.”
Lexy just laughed and shook her head as she put away her laundry. She wished she could focus on Marcy’s chitchat, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t in the mood. She’d just gotten notice that rent was going up again.
“What ‘cha got planned this weekend?” Marcy asked as she tossed the magazine back onto the coffee table.
“John Henry has a soccer game on Sunday,” Lexy said as she began to put the clothes back into the basket.
“Does he like playing?”
“I don’t know. He runs with the rest of the kids, laughing, having a good time, but instead of kicking the ball he’ll do something completely different like try to do a cartwheel.”
“Maybe he’s gymnastically inclined.”
“He trips over his own feet.”
“He’s only six, Lex. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
“Oh, I’m not worried. I want him to be exposed to things but to also have fun doing them.”
“Sounds like he’s having fun to me.”
Lexy shrugged and then nodded. She did what she could for her son, given the limited extra funds. The soccer league had been a division of the local park system trying to get lower income kids more access to physical fitness. It was humbling always being on the “needy family” list.
“Hey, why don’t you come out with me and my peeps tomorrow night?” Marcy asked. “We’re doing karaoke at the sushi bar!”
Lexy grinned. As much as she enjoyed Marcy’s friendship, the other woman couldn’t possibly understand how hard it was trying to raise a kid, work full time, and take care of a sick parent. She rarely had time for herself, and the moments she was able to get away were precious and few.
As she opened her mouth to decline, her phone beeped. She pulled it from her pocket and saw a text had come through.
Will arrive Saturday. C U at 8.
Her heart flared to life, thumping heavily in her chest. Only practice saved her poker face from cracking as she deleted the message and slipped her phone back in her pocket.
“Everything okay?” Marcy asked.
“Oh, yeah. Something at home. I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it tomorrow night.”
“No prob. Next time.”
“Sounds good.” Lexy picked up the laundry basket. “I’m all done. Thanks so much for letting me come over and do the wash.”
“No problem. I enjoy the company.”
“Have fun at work,” Lexy said as she walked to the front door.
“You come in anytime for a facial, girlfriend. Hear me?”
Lexy gave her a thumbs up as she walked to her beat-up little car. The paint was pealing on the roof, making it look like it had some type of skin disease, and her timing belt was slipping. She cringed as she started the car and a high pitched squeal resounded through the neighborhood. She planned to get that taken care of this week.
She’d met Marcy when she’d begun working at Charlie’s Diner, a cool looking fifties-type diner that had an original juke box that still ran. The place had amazing hamburgers, so morning, noon, and night the place was packed, which was good because Lexy
really needed the tips. Marcy had come in, sat down, and they’d just begun talking as if they’d been old friend for years.
As she drove back to the little rented house she lived in with John Henry and her grandfather, her mind wandered back to the text that had come through. It’d been four months since she’d last seen him. Her stomach clenched with anticipation. Just thinking about his magnificent body, his large cock, and all the delicious things he could do with it made her pussy drip with need. Memories of him set her on fire, so by the time tomorrow night came she knew she’d be revved up to almost an intense, frenetic lust. She’d have to think of something really clever to show him how much she’d missed him.
Luckily she had the morning shift and was off on Sunday. She wouldn’t need to make arrangements with anyone to cover for her. Although the last shift usually was the money pit as far as tips went, it was difficult working that late because that meant leaving John Henry with her grandfather, who still had trouble getting around a year and a half after his stroke. Thank goodness her son was a good kid and listened well, but still, it put a strain on Pop. She couldn’t ask him to babysit this weekend, too. She’d have to get her friend Tilden to watch John Henry. Tilden had a seven year old daughter who was starting to develop that whole boys are gross mentality.
Despite thinking of him, she didn’t answer the text. She never did.
He knew she would be waiting for him.
On Saturday night she would drive to his hotel and check into his room, and she’d spend the night at his beck and call, being fucked until she was bow-legged, wrapped in his strong arms as he drove her out of her mind with pleasure. And then, on Sunday, she would pack up her small overnight bag and leave, go back to her busy but cramped life, and wait until he texted her again.
Though she never thought she’d be the kind of woman to indulge in such a shallow relationship, it actually suited her life perfectly. She was entirely too busy to focus on finding a permanent kind of man, nor did she want to subject John Henry to what her own mom had put her through for years. After her father had died, Lexy’s mother had been all about partying and where to score her next boyfriend. It had been one of the reasons Lexy had been homeless and pregnant at seventeen.
With tremendous force she pushed aside all thoughts of her childhood and mother and focused solely on her upcoming stolen moment.
Only one time had he been in LA and hadn’t called her, and she’d known why. He’d been in a relationship at the time and, from the beginning, he had warned her that he never cheated. Lexy might be a sideline kind of girl, but even she had standards, and it was nice knowing Giovanni Macari had them as well.
Chapter Two
Two years ago
With a heavy heart, Lexy left the meeting with the head of costuming at the studio. Tilden, who worked on the studio lot in the kitchen, was a very flirtatious kind of girl and called actors and directors by their first names. She managed to secure an interview with the costume designer for Lexy by sheer luck and determination.
So Lexy had dressed in her very best, in an outfit she’d designed as well as sewn together. Her flair was a modern chic with a steampunk twist. Nothing too overt, but subtle enough to make the eye flash back to the outfit. She liked working with leather and lace and wore a skirt that had taken six needles to finish. Leather was difficult to work with because it was a tough fabric. And then adding in scraps of lace was tedious. But her outfit was to die for, or at least she thought so. Her skirt was made with narrow knife pleats as hints of lace breathed from the folds. A zipper ran up the front right side, offsetting the symmetry. She’d finished off the look with a white silk blouse and chunky boot heels.
She knew she looked hot and professional, but the costume director had barely glanced at her portfolio before throwing it in a corner of her bookshelf. Disheartened she slowly walked toward the commissary, intent on at least seeing and thanking Tilden. She’d worked so hard on perfecting her designs, staying up late into the night after John Henry had gone to bed to flesh them out in sketches and pencil in the colors. And it was so frustrating that no one saw the visions of how beautiful they were.
With her eyes on the ground she turned the corner that lead to the café and suddenly found herself bouncing off a brick wall. Strong arms came around her before she could fall, pulling her close against a heavily muscled body and not the brick wall she thought she’d run into. She’d looked up into eyes that were dark chocolate, so rich and lively that she knew she’d gotten a cavity from just falling into their depths. Thick black hair fell over his forehead, and she had the craziest urge to reach up and push it back. His skin was tanned, stretching over a chiseled face that could have been carved by Michelangelo.
She knew immediately who he was. Giovanni Macari, an Italian movie star who had successfully transitioned into the Hollywood market. He had been an international actor in his twenties but had segued into directing over the years and along the way had picked up an Oscar or two.
As she stared into his eyes, something shifted inside her. Her heart began to race like a thoroughbred in the Kentucky Derby. Her skin prickled, her breathing became shallow, and her pussy clenched with desire. She’d never, ever, had such a knee jerk reaction to a man, and she hadn’t a clue on how to handle it.
Giovanni’s eyes traced over her face in an intimate sort of way. She felt his cock harden against her stomach, and her panties were instantly drenched as her juices ran. He gave her a sheepish, roguish smile.
“Hello,” he greeted in a teasing, sexy voice that held just the faintest trace of an accent. “I must admit I’m very happy to meet you.”
She grinned and felt her dimples crease her cheeks. “I was going to ask if that was a banana in your pocket.”
He tipped his head back as he laughed. She was fascinated by the muscles in his throat. Really? Throat muscles turned her on?
“I’m Giovanni Macari.”
“Lexy. Lexy Carmichael.”
“Ah. Sexy Lexy.”
She felt her cheeks heat up. “Not fair. I can’t rhyme Giovanni with anything.”
“How is it I’ve never run into you before?”
“Maybe because there’s nine million people in this town?”
He tilted his head. “Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.”
“Casablanca is one of my favorite movies,” she murmured. And although she didn’t want to, she pulled back. He wouldn’t let her go, however, and kept her planted firmly against him.
“Have lunch with me.”
It wasn’t a question, and for some reason, this turned her on even more … if that were possible.
“In the café?” she asked a bit breathlessly.
“In my penthouse suite.”
And by the carnal look in his eyes she knew exactly what would happen if she went to his penthouse suite.
“As clichéd as this might sound, I’m not that kind of girl.”
“That rang with a note of regretfulness.”
“Yes,” she replied honestly. “And not because of your name.”
She held out her hand, intending to shake his, but instead he took and pulled her in close, back where she had originally been. Once again her body flared to life, and there was no denying how Giovanni made her heart race and her panties wet.
“Come with me,” he ordered softly.
Heat flooded his gaze again, and she found the cautious little voice in her head shutting up. The big question now was did she dare act on such a ridiculous and spontaneous proposition? She had no illusions about the outcome of his offer for “lunch”. After, what she suspected would be the most amazing sex of her life, he would drive her home, and then he’d become a memory, albeit the best memory of her life.
He watched her with those penetrating eyes. She felt as if he were looking inside her soul. He seemed to call out to her on a deep and personal level. Slowly she nodded, her stomach twisting with excitement. He gave her wicked smile, one that
promised a world of sinful delights.
****
The penthouse was palatial.
She felt her mouth falling open in shock, but caught herself and snapped it closed. She didn’t want to seem anything less than worldly because she had a feeling Giovanni Macari expected a certain class of woman surrounding him.
“Do you like it?” he suddenly asked.
She turned to look at him. He watched her with narrowed eyes, much like a hawk watching its prey.
“It’s very … spacious, Mr. Macari.”
He laughed, a full belly laugh that filled the backseat of his Bentley. “How diplomatic of you. And please, call me Gio.”
“Only if you don’t call me Sexy Lexy.”
He smiled. “Deal. And I always stay here because it’s the largest penthouse in the hotel.”
“Of course you do,” she said, giving him a duh look. “I’m sure you like your space. I’m just not sure if I’m in the same zip code anymore.”
He waved around the foyer, which was bigger than her bedroom, although that she didn’t share with him. “You don’t seem impressed.”
She raised a brow. “Am I supposed to be impressed by a hotel room?”
“Hardly just a hotel,” he murmured. “This is the best money can buy.”
She studied the layout of the room. She didn’t know much about Italian marble and wainscoting, but she could definitely tell that everything around her screamed expensive. Including the man beside her.
She turned toward him. “Well, if you love it what else matters? Besides, I think you said something about satisfying my hunger?”
It was like a lighted match touching gasoline. Gio’s dark eyes became twin embers as he reached for her. He brought her up against his chest, opening his legs so she fit snugly between them. She felt his cock, hard and heavy through his pants, wanting her.
On Call Mistress Page 1