Lucky 7 Bad Boys Contemporary Romance Boxed Set (51 page)

“Who...” Then she saw Drew leaning against the table across the way, his muscular arms crossed over his chest and his feet kicked out in front of him in a casual pose. His grin rivaled the deliveryman’s.

Natasha raised her brows. She tilted her head to the helium filled bouquet and Drew nodded, challenging her to accept it.

Damn the man.

Natasha snatched the clipboard and scrawled her name. She offered Drew a small smile before taking the bouquet. Her eyes still on his, she ran her hand up the strings and inhaled the candied grape scent of an extra-large purple ‘balloon’. Drew’s eyes narrowed and she could see his chest swell as he gave a sharp inhalation. Oh yeah, he remembered one particular afternoon and their adventures with a grape Popsicle.

Heat flamed her cheeks then swirled down her body to pool low in her belly. The sexual wild child she’d first unleashed in Drew’s arms wanted out, wanted to experience again the rush of power, the intensity of the physical pleasure they’d explored together. To push the boundaries and prove that the real thing
was
better than her fantasies.

Decorum and temptation battled. With her body clamoring for attention, she stopped fighting and let her naughty self take over. She brought the grape-scented condom to her mouth. His eyes heated. Natasha licked the latex with a quick, teasing flick of her tongue. She saw, rather than heard, his groan and gave a satisfied little smile.

She wanted to lick it again. Use her tongue to swirl a tempting design over the rubber, mimicking the way she’d like to run her tongue over the flesh the latex was meant to adorn. Then she heard a gruff laugh.

“Well, well, quite a bunch of rubbers ya got there, Sweet Thing.”

Oh my God.

Natasha gasped, losing her grip on the balloons. They shot up like a rocket. Only the fast reflexes of the large man in front of her stopped their escape. He handed her back her bouquet with a gallant bow and a wink. Grateful for an excuse to turn away, Natasha tied them to a chair, her face flaming.

“Thank you,” she muttered with a stiff smile. She took in the man’s twinkling black eyes, sleek raven-dark hair and pencil-thin mustache. He bore a marked resemblance to Clark Gable. Her eyes widened and her heart sank.

Rufus Randall. CEO of
Perfect Passion
Lingerie Parties, and the very man who could guarantee her aunt a comfortable semi-retirement. Nerves battled embarrassment, but Natasha tried to shove both aside.

“Thank you so much. I’m Natasha Stover,” she said with her most professional smile. She shook his hand, praying her cheeks would cool. “Welcome to
Sensual Supports
little boudoir.”

“I’m Rufus Randall, but you go ahead and call me Ruf. Pleased to meet you.” He looked around the display, narrowing his eyes at the bra featured front and center, then tilted his head. “Stover? Related to Sharon Stover? She and I have been in contact. I like her designs. She’s pitched a few good ideas, too.”

Excitement danced in her belly, but she kept her face composed, her tone smooth. “Ideas I’d love to discuss with you, Mr. Randall. I think Sensual Support has a great deal to offer the
Perfect Passion
line.”

Rufus cast a glance around her booth and nodded. “Ruf. Call me Ruf. All my friends and business associates do.”

Yes
. Natasha took a breath in preparation for the first segment of her pitch. And almost choked on it when Ruf’s cell phone chimed.

Dammit.

Natasha gave Ruf an understanding smile instead of the grimace she was fighting to hold back when he murmured an apology and stepped to the edge of the booth to take the call. She saw the look of horror he shot the booth across the way. Drew didn’t seem to have a clue that his booth was a Ground Zero. Instead he sat on the table, chatting with a couple of guys like it was a hang-out or something.

What
was
the man thinking?

Rufus tucked his cell phone into his sleek leather jacket and winked. “Gotta run, Sweet Thing. But I’ll get a hold of you this week and we’ll have that talk. I’d be interested in hearing what you think
Sensual Supports
has to offer my company.”

“And I’d be happy to discuss it with you further,” she offered quickly. “I have quite a few ideas that I think will fit perfectly with the new line you’re launching.”

Natasha held her breath. The new line wasn’t public knowledge yet, but the buzz had spun through the industry hard and fast.
Perfect Passion Lingerie
was moving to the next level. And Natasha wanted to see
Sensual Supports
go along for the ride. Ruf’s black eyes narrowed, like a hawk studying its prey. Then he gave a slow nod and smiled.

“Tell ya what. I’m having a little shindig in my hotel suite this evening. Why don’t you come on up? There will be a crowd, but I’m sure we can find a few minutes to toss ideas around. Feel free to bring a friend or two. After all, a party isn’t a party unless ya get kicked out for noise violations.”

With a wink and a quick goodbye, the very reason Natasha was in Las Vegas handed her his business card, complete with room number, and ambled off. But not before he sent another pitying look at Drew’s booth.

Natasha did a bouncy little dance in a quick circle. She was sure there was a place in the lingerie party market for her aunt’s designs. And, if she was honest with herself, for her designs. All she needed was the chance to convince Ruf of that. And it looked like she was going to get it.

Her dance bumped into the bouquet of
balloons
, sending them bobbing and swaying. Natasha looked up and bit her lip, then shifted her gaze across the aisle.

What a mess.

Maybe she should help him with his display. For old times sake.

And, of course, it might give her a chance to see if her theory about him being the answer to breaking the curse on her sex life held any weight.

* * *

Drew grinned as Tasha tried to explain the difference between tap pants and a bustier, pointing out why one belonged on the top of the weird looking plastic body and the other on the bottom. He felt like an idiot. But if his misinterpretation of his sister’s instructions had lured Tasha over, it was worth it.

“Are we supposed to pack all this stuff away each night when they close the convention hall?” he asked, shuddering at the thought.

“No,” she answered breathlessly, sounding as if she could be imagining the same things he was. “Most people leave their displays up for the entire convention. That’s what I’m planning to do, with everything except the bras. Those I lock up and take back to the hotel with me.”

His gaze dropped to her breasts, heat flaring. Yeah, he’d lock something that sweet away in a hotel room too. Then he realized she wasn’t talking about the one she was wearing.

“Lock them up? Why?”

“My designs are a little revolutionary and I’d hate to have anything happen to them, if you know what I mean.”

He glanced across the aisle, a clear view to her curvy mannequin sporting red lace.

“Revolutionary? That looks like any other bra to me,” he said with a shrug and the grin of a man who’d seen plenty of bras. “It’s a pretty enough design, I guess. But what’s so special about it?”

“It’s cutting edge,” she said, sounding more excited than he’d ever heard her. Except for when he’d had her naked, of course. “I’ve found a way to combine the support of traditional foundation-style undergarment with the sexy appeal of lingerie.”

“And that’s cutting edge?” he asked, totally clueless and not really giving a damn. He just liked watching her talk, enjoying her excitement.

“Some companies claim to do that,” she explained. “But they simply use the same old design and offer it in a pretty color. These designs use the same fabrics, styles and sexy image enhancements of lingerie that all women want, with the solid support ample-busted women need.”

Drew’s eyes dropped to her breasts again, his smile assessing. Yeah, she was ample. Gorgeous and sexy, too. He knew that had nothing to do with some bra, but if she wanted to give it credit, who was he to object?

“Seriously, what are you even doing here?” she asked, looking baffled. “You obviously have no clue about lingerie.”

“That isn’t true,” Drew said with a wink. He moved closer, brushing his shoulder against hers while she tidied and sorted his sloppy stacks of thongs and bikinis. The rich spice of her perfume filled his lungs and his body hardened in reaction. “I know plenty about lingerie.”

“Right.” She snickered. She tilted her head toward the recently redressed mannequin. “Plenty.”

“Most people just think of lingerie in simple terms, but I know there’s more to it than that” Drew said softly. Natasha’s gaze met his. He could tell she was trying to look amused, but the embers were there in her eyes. He just had to fan them into a flame.

“I know that lingerie is a form of titillation for both the man and the woman. A woman wears it to visually stimulate a man, sure. But she also wears it to stimulate herself.” His voice was husky with desire, his eyes intent on her face as he verbally seduced her. “The feel of the silk caressing her skin, the raspy scratch of lace, the seduction of chiffon. They’re all tactile stimuli that makes her vividly aware of her femininity and helps her to sexually arouse herself. Lingerie offers the pleasure of touch, yes. But also the pleasures of anticipation.”

Tasha’s gray eyes darkened like a winter storm and a soft flush warmed those sharp cheekbones. Yeah, the flames were flickering. Drew picked up a blue satin thing she’d explained was a teddy, rubbing the fabric between his fingers before he trailed it over her forearm. Her breath caught.

“For the man, lingerie is a visual feast, and a tantalizing promise. What does it say? Demure pink silk, flirty polka-dots on cotton or hot red satin. Each one tells a man what kind of mood, what kind of sex, his lady has in store for him. And each night it can be different. As often as a woman changes her mood, she can change her lingerie,” he rasped out, glad he’d memorized
Twisted Knickers
’ slogan.

Tasha swallowed.

Yeah, Drew grinned. He had her.

Then she raised a patrician brow in that haughty, lady-of-the-manor way that used to drive him crazy. Hell, it still drove him crazy.

“And sometimes a woman simply chooses her lingerie according to the needs of her outfit for the day. Not everything relates to sex, Drew.” She adjusted one last piece of silk and took a telling step away. “Your booth looks much better now. Just get rid of those boxes and you’re good to go.”

God, what a woman.

He was rock hard, ready to do her on that pile of panties. And she dismissed him? Drew knew perfectly well she was turned on. Her own choice of lingerie failed to hide her desire. Her nipples pressed in hard relief against the filmy fabric of her blouse. But she still exuded that distant, unaffected manner. Could he be any more turned on?

“Maybe not everything relates to sex, but...” Drew didn’t close the distance between them. Instead he reached out and traced his index finger along Tasha’s jaw, reveling in the smooth texture, the luminosity of her skin. “But us, Tasha? We are all about sex.”

In that moment, he realized he’d never gotten enough of her. And while, at this point in his life, he hadn’t intended to track her down, there was no way he was going to just walk away. They had something to finish, and he wasn’t letting her go this time until they’d crossed that line. He hadn’t done anything just for himself in a long time. So he made himself a promise.

This week? He was doing Natasha.

“Were,” she corrected precisely.

“Are,” he promised.

She shook her head and gave a rueful laugh. “Well, your ego certainly hasn’t shrunk over the years, has it?”

Before he could reply, she gathered a few of the discarded and flattened cardboard boxes and shoved them into his arms. “Why don’t you take these to the storage area? I’ve got work to do.”

“Show me where it is,” Drew taunted, just to see if she could still be baited. He hoped she could. He hoped all the things he remembered about her were still true.

“Please.” Tasha rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think that’s a little transparent?”

“Afraid?” he goaded.

“Of you?”

“Of us.”

Drew watched the struggle in her eyes between her better judgment and her inability to back down from a dare.

Oh baby, go for the dare
.

“Fine, follow me.”

Yes
. Though he was tempted, he figured a victory dance might be a little premature. With Tasha, nothing was that easy.

At the end of a short, empty hall she indicated a pair of wide doors.

“Storage. You should be able to find your way back.” She added her armful of boxes to those he was already holding. “See you later.”

“Aren’t you curious?” he asked as she walked away.

“Almost as much as I’d be curious about a car wreck,” she replied over her shoulder. “Simple morbid fascination with probable doom. Or at the very least, pain and suffering.”