Negligee Behavior Page 3

  Working fast, she lifted her dress and snatched the key from the lacy top of her stocking.

  “Okay.” She let the dress fall back into place. “You can open your eyes.”

  His eyes were already open when he reached out and plucked the key from her fingers.

  “Nice and warm. Where did you say this was, princess?”

  “You totally watched.” Brandy gave him a light whack across his shoulders and folded her arms across her chest. “Will you just open the door?”

  He laughed, a husky sound that sent a shiver through her and made her breasts feel heavier. She watched his large, capable hands slip the card into the door and a moment later there was a clicking sound.

  “On your mark, get set…” He swung it open.

  She moved past him and ignored the surprising tingles that ran through her body when her hip brushed his thigh. Just go and find your purse, Brandy.

  Marco laughed as he followed her inside, shutting the door behind him. Damn she was a puzzle. He watched as she scurried around the room, muttering to herself as she tried to locate her purse. For the most part she seemed so prim and proper, blushing at the drop of a hat. But…

  He watched her lean over one of the beds. And there was nothing prim and proper about those stockings of hers by any stretch of the imagination. They’d probably come straight out of some dirty lingerie catalog.

  And there was that peek she’d given him while she retrieved the key. Like she’d really expected him to look away. He’d kept his eyes closed for about two seconds before opening them in time to catch a flash of pale thighs and white lace.

  He’d been more than a little surprised to see such a sexy getup on the prudent little choir teacher.

  For a second, the fact that she wasn’t his type meant shit to him. He could almost ignore the starchy, conservative attitude and focus on those legs. Legs that had him imagining what they’d feel like wrapped around his waist.

  Her exasperated groan ripped through his sexy thoughts. “Where on earth did I put it?”

  He shifted his focus back to the present and looked around the room. Two beds? That was odd. Hmm. Maybe the hotel had been short on rooms.

  “Got it.” Brandy straightened from behind one of the beds holding a mammoth-sized tote bag with smiley faces on it.

  His eyes widened and his lips twitched in amusement. That was her purse?

  “Okay, let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “Could you not curse every five minutes? And hold on, I’d like to change before we leave. This wedding dress is driving me nuts.” She hurried to a suitcase and pulled out a wad of clothing. “I’ll be right out.”

  He watched her disappear into the bathroom and shut the door. Well, at least she was taking off the hideous dress. Not to mention it would make her a little more inconspicuous. If her fiancé was looking for her she was an easy find in a wedding dress.

  Marco heard the lock click as she reemerged a moment later.

  Oh God. Put the wedding dress back on! He had to bite his tongue from screaming the words.

  The denim skirt she wore reached her ankles and the purple top had a puffy cat sewn on the front.

  She was a couple of inches shorter now, since she’d taken off the heels she’d been wearing earlier. On her feet instead were sturdy purple sandals.

  “I feel so much better,” she said. “I wanted that dress off me so bad that I just tossed it in the bathtub. I can’t believe—”

  The doorknob jangled and she squealed in horror. Brandy grabbed his hand and dove into the closet, dragging him with her. She slid the closet door shut, leaving them in darkness. A second later someone entered the room.

  Chapter Two

  Marco gritted his teeth and shook his head. How did he let it get to this point? How the hell did he end up hiding in a hotel room closet with a choir teacher?

  She took a hurried step backward when someone passed by their hiding spot. His hands automatically reached out to steady her and landed on a pair of soft curvy hips.

  Well, look at that. Maybe the choir teacher was hiding something under the drab clothing.

  His blood pounded a little faster and he took a deep breath in. The smell of apples assailed him again, and this time it didn’t seem quite as weird.

  Without thinking, he moved his hands down her hips and was rewarded with a stinging slap across his knuckles.

  She tensed, as if worried the swat had been too loud. But after a moment the sounds of two people speaking quietly in the room were clearly heard.

  Hmm. Gordon obviously wasn’t alone. Had Brandy figured it out yet?

  “I’m just going to shower,” a man’s voice said.

  “Don’t forget, darlin’—I charge by the hour.”

  He heard Brandy’s nearly silent gasp as she shifted forward, trying to peek through the edge of the closet door.

  Ah shit, this couldn’t be good.

  The bathroom door closed, followed by the sound of the shower running.

  Marco leaned forward and whispered into her ear, “Do you have your purse?”

  He felt her nod. The curls on her head tickled his chin.

  “Do you want to stay and talk with Gordon?”

  “What do you think?” Her tone turned waspish.

  “Okay, we’re going to have to make a run for it. Listen carefully.” He kept his voice encouraging. “I want you to open the closet and head straight out of the room. Got it? Don’t look back and don’t stop to talk to whoever else is out there.”

  Again she nodded.

  “Okay.” He took a deep breath, adrenaline pulsing through his veins. “Now!”

  She pulled open the door and leaped out. There was a surprised gasp from the person sitting in the room. Brandy stood stock-still in front of the closet, staring in disbelief at the woman on the bed, obviously ignoring his advice to just run and not look. He stole a quick look at the naked woman on the bed—fried blond hair and perky boobs—eyeing Brandy with open curiosity.

  Damn it. He needed to get Brandy out before the shit really hit the fan.

  “Nobody said anything about doing a group thing.” The woman on the bed transferred her attention to Marco, her slow smile showing off some seriously screwed up teeth. “But I’m not complaining.”

  “A group thing?” Brandy sputtered glaring at the naked woman on the bed. “You—you—you—”

  Marco swore and grabbed her hand, tugging her toward the door. She followed, but her eyes never left the other woman.

  The bathroom door swung open just as Marco closed the hotel room door after them. He was nearly dragging her by the time he pushed the button for the elevator. The doors opened and he pushed her in, just as footsteps sounded running down the hall.

  “Love muffin!” A man yelled. “It’s not what it looks like.”

  Marco hurried into the elevator before he could get a peek at the now infamous Gordon. The doors slid shut and a second later they could hear him pounding on the elevator and screaming her name. Well, not her name, but his choice endearment, love muffin.

  Brandy leaned back against the wall in the elevator, her eyes closed.

  “Are you all right?” Marco watched her, his body buzzing like he’d had too much caffeine.

  But it wasn’t caffeine that had him on edge. It was the anticipation of her reaction. She was a time bomb that could go off at any moment.

  God, please don’t let her have a breakdown. He was really, really bad at comforting weepy women.

  “She had bad teeth,” Brandy snapped. “I don’t get it. He’s a dentist. He can’t be attracted to someone with bad teeth.”

  The tension in his body dissipated some. It probably wouldn’t be wise to point out that Gordon probably hadn’t been looking at the woman’s teeth.

  Brandy gasped. “Oh! I forgot the wine. That wonderful, expensive bottle of—”

  “The wine is replaceable. But your luggage…”

  Brandy looked up at him and her lips parted on a sil
ent oh. And then, suddenly, she did look like she was going to cry. Fuck. He’d just had to remind her of the luggage.

  “My luggage,” she said with a tiny sniff, and she blinked rapidly a few times. “I’ll be fine. We—I’ll figure out something.”

  “We’ll figure something out.” Had he just made a commitment to her?

  But he couldn’t leave her like this. Not yet. Even though he’d rather break any single bone in his body than deal with a weepy woman, he wouldn’t be able to look at himself in the mirror if he left her now.

  He’d get through the evening—somehow—and then send her on her way. Wherever that was. The bottom line was she wasn’t his responsibility and he would be stupid to make her so.

  Brandy’s blue eyes connected with his, and he could see the faint sheen of tears across them. Damn. His hardened resolve melted a bit at the sight of her quivering lips.

  Who was she? Besides some uptight teacher.

  Her phone began to ring in her purse and she pulled it out and then turned it off with jerky movements.

  The doors to the elevator opened and they stepped out, making their way through the casino. The sound of slot machines was deafening and the floor appeared packed. Marco, in a hurry to get them out of the hotel, grabbed her hand and weaved them through the Friday night crowd.

  Soon they were back out on the Strip. The sun had set, but the lights were so bright that darkness never really fell in Vegas.

  “Where do you want to go?” Marco asked as they stood at the crosswalk.

  “I don’t know.” Her eyes lit up. “Do you live around here?”

  Shit, she wanted to go home with him? No. No way. “Henderson.”

  “Oh. That’s not too far.” When he didn’t say anything, she looked away chewing on her lip. “You don’t have to stay with me. I can book a room somewhere and figure things out.”

  “Do you want me to leave?” Marco steered her out of the path of a bunch of drunken men crossing the street in the opposite direction.

  “No. I don’t want you to leave. But I can’t expect you to stay.”

  She turned to face him once they were on the sidewalk again. He saw the spark of interest in her eyes and then she stared at his lips. He watched her swallow hard. Her tongue dart out to wet her lush mouth.

  He bit back a groan and his jaw hardened. You don’t want to kiss me, sweetheart.

  She had no idea what she was asking. But faced with the naked vulnerability in her eyes and obvious interest, something shifted inside him. Some of the hardness melted around his resolve, and before he could stop himself he reached out to stroke his thumb down the side of her cheek.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” His thumb moved to rub across her bottom lip, which parted on a sigh. That mouth. God, if she didn’t have the mouth and those legs…she’d be some freak mutant, you idiot.

  Don’t do it. Kissing her will just complicate things. Don’t even go there…

  “Ah, shit.” He lowered his head toward hers.

  For some reason, it seemed perfectly natural for Brandy to lean forward into Marco’s kiss. The smell of leather and spice enveloped her senses, just before his arms wrapped around her body.

  His mouth closed over hers, firm and confident. It was a hard kiss, nothing hesitant about it. Definitely not the kind she was used to getting from Gordon.

  His tongue traced the seam of her lips and a shiver raced down her spine. With a deft move, he slipped inside her mouth and she grabbed onto his T-shirt to keep her balance as the world around them spun.

  His tongue rasped against hers. He tasted faintly of beer and all kinds of sin.

  Pressing his body harder against her, he moved his hands down her waist to grab her ass. Brandy gasped at the contact and he used it to his advantage, stroking his tongue deeper.

  Heat speared down her belly, between her legs and she curved her body closer to his, wanting so much more.

  He pulled back suddenly and she tightened her grip on his T-shirt to keep from falling forward. Dazed, but not so far out of it that she didn’t notice the hard muscles under her fingers.

  She groaned. This was insanity. Pure insanity. Or just lust. That was a pretty plausible explanation too.

  “We should go somewhere.”

  Perfect, let’s get a room. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but then she swallowed them.

  This was all too crazy, too sudden. She should be grieving or at least a little confused about the whole Gordon situation.

  But Gordon was the last darn thing on her mind. Instead all she could think about was that erotic kiss she’d just shared with a perfect stranger. The thing was, she knew why she’d kissed him—he oozed sex and danger. He was attractive.

  The question was why had he kissed her? She was nothing like the models she’d grown up envying.

  She raised her gaze to his and noticed he looked a little uneasy about what had just passed between them.

  “Why did you kiss me?” she blurted, the passion bubble starting to deflate. God. Why had she even asked that? But since she had…“Men like you don’t kiss women like me.”

  He shook his head and looked away. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”

  “Oh.” Of course it wouldn’t. Disappointment bloomed inside her, but she pushed it aside and nodded.

  Marco turned and began walking again.

  Where was he going? Should she follow him? She hesitated a second and then ran to catch up with him. What else could she do? He was her anchor in this crazy storm of a day.

  Fuck!

  Gordon stalked back into the hotel room and slammed the door behind him.

  The prostitute he’d picked up after Brandy had run out on him was still there. Sprawled out on the bed, she held the remote control as she flipped through channels and blew a bubble with her chewing gum.

  “Get out,” he snarled.

  “I thought you wanted me to spank you and then give you head.”

  “I said get the fuck out!” He grabbed her arm, jerking her off the bed.

  “Whoa, hold on there, bucko. You haven’t paid me.”

  “And I’m not going to.” He dragged her across the room and flung her into the hallway, tossing her clothes at her and slamming the door shut afterward.

  Leaning back against the door he thrust his hands into his hair. Pay her? Hell, he couldn’t even afford to buy a burger off the goddamn dollar menu.

  He crossed the room and tried Brandy’s cell phone. It rang twice and then went to voice mail.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  Sweat beaded on his forehead as he sat down on the bed. He was screwed. One hundred percent screwed.

  The money was due by the end of the month. Where the hell was he going to get ten million dollars in three weeks?

  Grabbing a pillow, he tossed it across the room with a roar. He’d been so close. So fucking close to tripling what he’d come here with last night. He’d pulled so many strings to get into the exclusive high rollers game he was like a damn puppeteer. But in the end he’d blown it. Lost every fucking penny to his name.

  He might have eventually had enough to pay back his bookie with his salary on New You—not like the bookie would have settled for monthly payments anyway—but that possibility had disappeared when he’d been told earlier in the week that the show wasn’t going to be brought back for a second season.

  All his fame and fortune was one fucking whirlpool going down the shitter.

  And then it had clicked. His only chance at saving his ass. Marry Brandy. Marry her so damn quick she didn’t have time to even think the word prenup.

  Ten million was probably the change in the Summers’s piggy bank. They could easily afford it and probably wouldn’t have hesitated to lend the money to their new son-in-law.

  But the ugly bitch had run out on him. At the goddamn altar! His lips curled into a sneer and he threw another pillow across the room.

  Hell, she should’ve been grateful that any man had looked her way. But th
e fact was that he had and it barely fazed her…What the hell was wrong with the woman?

  She wanted nothing to do with her tabloid-dubbed title of Lingerie Heiress. Had instead gone on to be a choir teacher.

  They’d met at a charity event over a year ago, and it was then he’d realized she could be his ticket into one of the wealthiest families in L.A. He would gain the ability to penetrate the circles her family ran in. Circles that had shunned him his whole life.

  As a child he’d been the freak in school—the kid whose dad had snapped one day and killed himself and his wife in a murder-suicide after she’d had an affair.

  After playing musical houses with various family members who didn’t really want him, he’d gone into foster care.

  The rumors and stares had made him a social outcast. And it wasn’t like he’d had good looks to fall back on—he’d hands down been the ugly kid in class. It had taken him years and a hell of a lot surgery to create his new image.

  But it hadn’t helped. Not really. He was still somewhat of an outcast. To date he hadn’t been to more than a handful of parties—Brandy always had an excuse not to go. And the times when she did, her friends had treated him with dubious if polite disdain.

  “Son of a bitch.” He growled and slammed his foot into her suitcase.

  His lips curled into a sneer at the ugly clothes hanging half out of the unzipped case.

  Brandy was a disappointment in and out of the bedroom—not that he’d even managed to fuck her more than a handful of times. He’d been surprised to find a hot little body under her plain attire the first time they’d had sex. Though, she had all the passion of an ice cube with breasts.

  But if marrying her was the only way he could save his ass, then by all means he’d do it. She should be more than happy to stay home and play wifey.

  And then, as son-in-law to the Summerses, he’d be welcomed into the fold of their society. A place that not even his status as a celebrity had been able to buy.

  Gordon stood and walked to the window, jerking the curtains back and looking out over the Strip.

  He had to get Brandy back. He would. He just had to find her first.