Conference Cupid (2 page)

“I didn’t say that. I’m getting the chance
I wish I’d had a million years ago.
And no parties in my
suite.
Remember, it’s my home. Guest bedroom is yours. Don’t destroy the
place.”

“Can we go up now so I can unpack? There
are some ladies I want to get to know before my competition sniffs out all the
best selections.”

“Is that really how you see women?” Devin
had never been so cavalier about women or about sex.

“I wasn’t even thinking about that yet.
Some of the ladies out there can actually request the model they want on the
cover so it’s necessary to schmooze and charm early on in the night. I don’t
mix business with pleasure so later on in the evening some unpublished lady
will get her wet panties charmed off.”

Would Devin be able to charm the pants off
Keary
? He’d fantasized about it for years: imagined
the creamy skin, smooth and soft, his hands caressing her, his mouth nipping at
her breasts, tongue licking her nipples, licking the slick wetness between her
legs…

He must be temporarily insane
to
honestly believe he
could pull this off. He’d never done anything so
unethical.

Fuck.

She needed to get laid. Devin needed to
get in her. Screw ethical. Talk about the chance of a lifetime.

Screw everything else. His cock strained
at his confining pants and throbbed. The need to fuck her was overwhelming.
There had to be some way to pull this off, sink his dick inside her and rid
himself of the intense longing plaguing him since he first set eyes on
Keary
.

Chapter Three

The Emmys.
The Oscars.
Different award ceremonies for
different celebrities.
Romance writers boasted the Cupids. Each year the
national conference amid all its glamour paid tribute to contest entries in all
categories. Women
glitzed
up and sat around tables
while being served by waiters in black tie. Marquees surrounded the stage with
covers of contemporary, historical and other genres of romance.

Famous authors read excerpts from the
nominees while flanked by shirtless male romance models.
Keary
sat at a table with members of her state chapter owl-eyed. The women
outnumbered the men significantly. But the men that graced the dining room,
both waiters in black tie and half clad models, could quicken the pulse of
women of all ages.

“Now ladies,” the MC announced, “it’s time
to look under your plate for the number card placed there. The person with the
lowest number gets to take one of these fine young gentlemen home.”

A roar erupted from the crowd and
Keary
clapped along with the rest of her table. She looked
from one woman to the next.

Did these women really...?
Certainly not happily married Susan.

She squirmed in her seat. What the hell
would she do if the winning number landed in her hands? “They’re not
serious—are they, Susan?”
Keary
didn’t want to look
naive in front of the rest of the group.

Susan burst out laughing and wiggled her
eyebrows. “Of course it’s serious.”
Keary
pulled out
her number and clasped it in her hand before looking at it.

“
Keary
, what
number do you have?” Susan asked loudly before anyone else could call out their
number.

“Five.” She looked around the table.

“I doubt anyone has lower than that. I
know I don’t,” Susan said placing the number in a small box and passing it
around the table. Without saying any numbers everyone else just shook their
heads and congratulated her.

Her so-called friends at the table could
barely contain their mirth. Oh, they’d so set her up.

A beefy model wearing moccasins and
nothing but a loin cloth stepped up to the table and asked for his victim.
Everyone at the table pointed to
Keary
and clapped
and yelled. He stepped closer, took her hand in his and kissed it. With one
tug, he lifted her from the
seat.

“Follow me.”

He pulled on her hand and reluctantly she
followed. The table dissolved in laughter and the hair on the back of
Keary’s
neck prickled. Maybe she could just stand him next
to the bed while she tapped away at the keyboard? Sweat formed on her
brow.

On the other side of the door
Keary
entered Never
Never
Land
and relaxed. The winners lined up with cover models and headed for a small
platform where a photographer clicked pictures and handed the copies to the
winners.

That’s what it meant by ‘take them home
with you.’ She glanced at the man next to her and thought of how her stomach
had flipped in anticipation and need.

Susan is so dead.

Standing next to Mr. Beefy and Half-Naked
affected her body in more ways than one. In addition to a faster heartbeat and
pulse,
Keary
had also become mute. Her legs wobbled
up the platform to have her picture taken for posterity and another model, also
dressed in a loin cloth, joined them.

She glanced from one face to the other and
noticed they looked similar.
Dark hair, almost black.
High cheekbones, long lashes, eyes dark as their hair.
Two
warriors
.
Both models leaned against her and she could feel twin
erections.

Keary’s
heart
beat faster and her hands, which she’d been told to place around the waist of
each man, began to sweat. The light flashed and she wondered if the fear had
been captured on film.

“Try it again. I shut my eyes,” said the
man to her left, leaning in closer.

How could she endure another second
sandwiched between them? Certainly, they would begin to feel her pebbled
nipples grazing their naked arms. Her composure was dissolving more by the
minute. Liquid formed between her legs as silently, she
thanked the
inventor of panty liners.

It had been so, so long. For a
split-second
Keary
wanted more than just a picture.
If only a model
could
be hers for the night. What she wouldn’t do with
him?  If the picture didn’t get taken soon, she’d have a stroke.

The light flashed again and the man on the
right backed away. The man on the left pulled on her hip possessively and
smiled
.
Releasing her, he stepped
back and helped her off the platform.
The photographer’s assistant handed over the photo and she staggered back to
the table, drunk from arousal. The table of her animated friends refocused
their attention on
Keary
as she staggered to her
seat.

“
Ohh
, let’s
see.” Susan held out her hand for the picture.

“You knew it was only a picture and you
let me think that man would ravage me.”

“Too bad it’s only a picture. You could
use getting ravaged,” Susan whispered.

As her friends passed the picture around,
the entire table laughed at
Keary’s
expense.

“We always leave the picture to the
newbie,” Janie, another member of her writers group, announced. “It’s too much
fun to pass up. The look on your face as he took you away was priceless.”

“What if there isn’t a new girl?”

“Then we go with the lowest number, or
highest if that’s what they ask for. We actually had an auction once.
Highest bidder.”

“
Keary
, the
expression on your face in this photo is sheer lust, girl. You should tack this
on the corkboard by your computer. No doubt it’d put you in the mood to write.
These men are yummy. How the
hell’d
you end up with
two? Damn, I’ve never been that lucky! This one looks like he’s about to eat
you up.”

Keary’s
hand
shook as she took the picture and focused on the face of the man on the
left—the one who joined them. The one who’d
clearly
had an erection.
They both seemed to, but the man on the left had rubbed his into her, leaving
no doubt about his amorous mood.

The emcee read excerpts from one sexy
piece after the other as the nominees were heard.
Keary
clapped at the appropriate times and imagined herself in each scenario read.
Each time the man on the left in the picture became the hero—ripping her bodice
in regency England, hiking
her skirt in the elevator in contemporary New
York City and licking between her
legs with his
three tongues in the alien planet three moons from the sun.

By the end of the awards,
Keary
burned with arousal. She needed to get out of there.
Forget the drink her friends planned on having at the bar and forget the
practice pitch session that would occur after that. She needed to get away.

“
Suz
, I promise
I’ll be more fun tomorrow night but it was a long-ass drive. I need to get my
note cards in order. I’m pitching my novel to an editor for the first time
tomorrow afternoon.”

Susan looked as if
she’d protest
but sighed instead. “Okay, just be prepared; you can’t get out of it tomorrow
night.”

Keary
headed for
her room, desperate for some alone time and a chance to turn up the air
conditioning. But the envelope on the door requested her presence at the front
desk and the key card didn’t work.

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Galloway. I didn’t
realize when I placed you in three fifty-two that you paid for the
deluxe
room and should be on the other level.”

“There weren’t any rooms
but
the
deluxe available at the time I booked. But there’s no problem. My room is
fine.”

“Oh no, Ms. Galloway.
We switched your room and upgraded you to the regency suite for your
inconvenience. Your things have already been moved. Here’s your new key. Can I
have the old one? I need to reactivate it to match the code we have on the
door.”

Keary
reached
into her conference name pouch that hung around her neck and pulled out the old
key card.

“Again, sorry for the inconvenience and
I’m sure you’ll love the suite.
It’s
room five hundred
two dash three. Don’t worry. All of your things were repacked, moved and
unpacked again.”

“I don’t appreciate the idea of anyone
touching my things.”
Keary
frowned at the unfortunate
girl behind the counter and tapped her fingernails on the shiny marble. The
girl shifted her weight. Since
Keary
couldn’t undo
what had been done, she stalked off to her new room determined to write a
scathing
nastygram
to the manager.

Exhausted,
Keary
opened the door and assessed the suite in front of her. Rather than the single
room with one king-sized bed, this door opened up to a large living area with a
flat screen television, a couch with two chairs and dining area with mini
kitchen.

Double doors opened to the bedroom. A
large king-sized bed centered the room and veiled tulle hung from the four
posters. This suite would certainly help with inspiration. No doubt it’d be
easy to write a love scene here. The setting was meant for debauchery.

The room oozed sex.

Maybe she’d start
tonight. Hop into
that big bed with her trusty laptop and imagine all the wondrous things that
could happen there. She kicked off her heels and sauntered over to the
bathroom.

Heaven.
I’ve died and gone to heaven.

The Jacuzzi tub residing there would fit
not only her but both the men in the picture.

Where had that thought come from?

She investigated the shower and found the
multiple rain bars at all different levels.

Oh yeah, I’ll try that out in the
morning.

Tonight the Jacuzzi beaconed. Turning on
the faucets,
Keary
ran her hand across the edge of
the tub in a caress.

Hopefully she wouldn’t be too relaxed to
write after she got out of the tub. Stripping off her clothes, she walked back
into the main room and deposited the dirty clothing in her
empty
suitcase.

Champagne
chilled in a bucket on top of the dining table. “Enjoy your stay, Ms.
Galloway,” was written on the card next to it.

Keary
filled her
glass before walking back to the tub. From habit, she closed the bathroom door
and turned on the small CD player and radio that sat on the vanity. Sinking
down into the warm water she hit the button for the jets. Stress instantly
eased as the pulses massaged her body.

Shutting her eyes, she escaped.
Keary
hadn’t realized how desperately she needed this.
Hadn’t
realized just how tight she’d been wound since the divorce.

Don’t think of it. Don’t think of
anything except where you are and how wonderful it feels here.

Chapter Four

Devin wiped the moisture from his palms on
his pants. He’d knocked three times and still no answer.
Time
to use his universal card to open the door.
I
must be losing
my mind.
The risks he was taking were completely out of character.

But it was
Keary
.
The
Keary
he always wanted and never had enough balls
to go after.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the
door and pulled the cart with the massage table on it in behind him. Once
inside, he heard the music coming from the bathroom. He stopped dead, barely
breathing, and decided to set up before he lost his nerve.

Devin headed for the bedroom and set up
the massage table. His hands shook. 
Who am I kidding? There’s no way I
can pull this off. Yes, you can. You can and you will. It’s your only chance.