Model Fantasy (2 page)

Chapter Two

Four years later

Francine shivered outside JFK terminal and hailed a cab. Hesitating only a heartbeat, she gave the driver Kevin’s address. It wasn’t too late, she smiled, relaxing in the seat. She could surprise him, they could make up, and everything would be all right. Still imagining Kevin’s surprise and delight, she misunderstood the startled look by the doorman at Kevin’s building. Of course he was surprised. She wasn’t supposed to be back from Fiji for another week.

“Hello, Thomas,” she greeted the elevator operator, stepping into the car. “Mr. MacLauren’s floor, please.”

Pulling her wheeled suitcase, she exited the elevator and pulled the key out. Inside the door, she left her suitcase and slipped off her shoes and coat. From the direction of the bedrooms, she could see a light and dimly heard music and voices. Puzzled, she moved silently down the hall and peered through the half-open door.

She stared in disbelief. Kevin, her fiancé, was on top of a woman. Fucking her. And not just any woman. Strawberry blonde hair streamed across the snowy white pillowcase. Francine’s hand covered her mouth. Delilah. Kevin’s hips slammed back down and the up-and-coming model cried out. One more up and down and Kevin’s shout jolted Francine out of her stunned stupor.

Unable to breathe, she backed away and shuddered. Impossible. Inconceivable. She had to have imagined it. She took a step back toward the door and heard his voice.

“God, you’re good! Better than that Ice Queen I’ve been trying to thaw.” He snorted. “It’s a thankless task, but the publicity of dating Francine has been worth it.”

Unable to bear anymore, Francine whirled and rushed back down the hallway. Snatching up her shoes and coat, she grabbed the handle of her suitcase and fled the apartment. In the elevator, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Only now did she realize tears were sliding down her cheeks.

“You all right, miss?” the operator asked, his finger hesitating over the button to close the door.

She was in public. Appearances had to be maintained. Taking a deep breath, she wiped at her face and looked at him.

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you, Thomas.” Seeing knowing expression in his eyes she felt her pride shatter around her. “Obviously, I will not be coming by anymore to see Mr. MacLauren.” He nodded. She saw the wariness in his eyes, as if he expected hysterics. She would not give anyone, especially Kevin, that satisfaction.

“I’ll need a taxi,” she told him. “Would you call down and ask to have one waiting?”

“Yes, miss,” he replied, picking up the elevator phone.

On automatic pilot, she put on her shoes and coat. By the time they reached the ground floor, the only sign of her tears were faint tracks on her high cheekbones. The doorman had a cab waiting for her.

“Where to, miss?”

Francine hesitated. She couldn’t bear the thought of going to her apartment. There were pictures of Kevin everywhere and memories… She shook her head.

“The Franklin Hotel.”

There were advantages, she sighed, to being recognized. The cab driver was beaming, eager to take her picture and asked for an autograph on the full page ad in a magazine he had in the front seat. Smiling, despite her heartache, Francine obliged him, tipping generously. Going inside, she went to the front desk.

“Yes?” the clerk asked, staring in disbelief.

“I don’t have a reservation, but would like a room. A suite if one is available.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the young woman replied, typing away.

Half an hour later, after a hot shower had eased the tension in her muscles, she curled up on the bed and picked up the phone.

“Felicity?” she whispered. “I…”

The sobs came as she poured out everything to her older sister.

“Francine, you remember what I told you after Eddie?”

“Yes,” hiccupped Francine.

“Well, this case calls for something more drastic.”

“Like what?”

“Several stiff drinks. Now, I want you to go down to the bar, tell the bartender you want four or five drinks and then he is to have someone make sure you get back to your room safely.”

“Felicity, I can’t do that! I don’t…”

“I know, sweetie, but this occasion demands it. You’ll be fine. I know it hurts like hell right now, and I wish I was there...” she growled. “Hell, I wish I had that bastard alone for five minutes to teach him some manners. Doing that to my baby sister... Asshole!”

“I wish you were here, too.” Francine sighed. “Why can’t I find someone like Tom? You sure he doesn’t have a long-lost brother somewhere?”

“You don’t need Mr. Right, sweetie. Right now, you need Mr. Stud to burn up the sheets and blow your mind.”

“But Kevin said…”

“No! That man is a waste of oxygen, understand me?” Felicity exhaled in a whoosh. “Go down to the bar, get your drinks and when you get back in your room, dream of an incredibly hot guy who makes your every fantasy come true.”

“Okay,” sniffed Francine.

She would take Felicity’s advice. She didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to feel. She just wanted… Well, she didn’t know what she wanted, but she knew
who
she didn’t want. Splashing water on her face, she repaired her make-up and smiled at her reflection. She knew she didn’t want anyone like Kevin. Her fantasy man would be absolutely incredible in every way—attractive, physically strong, accomplished in life, smart, and the most fantastic lover a woman could imagine. He would sweep her off her feet and make sure she was sexually satisfied.

Dressed simply in trousers and a light silk blouse, Francine headed down to the hotel’s only open bar. Off the lobby, the dark-paneled room had booths around the walls and tables placed far enough apart that an inebriated patron wouldn’t have too much trouble walking through them. The widescreen TV at the end of the bar showed commentators discussing the first half of the basketball game. Sitting on a stool near the middle, she reminded herself of Felicity’s directives as the black-vested bartender came toward her. The man didn’t seem surprised at her requests and put a tall frosted glass in front of her. Idly, she sipped it while watching the Knicks’ game.

A couple drinks later, as she debated ordering from the appetizer menu, two men in exquisitely cut suits came in, black cashmere coats over their arms. One held a cell phone to his ear. They came toward where she sat. Great. The last thing she wanted to deal with was men. Even if they were incredibly good-looking.

They took the stools a few feet away from her. In front of the bartender. She smiled to herself and took a large swallow. Could she be more caught up in herself? The bartender was there, so of course they would go there. Focus on what Felicity told you to do, she reminded herself, staring at the neon pink parasol in her drink. That’s what you’re doing here.

“Mr. Franklin,” the bartender greeted with a smile. “Mr. Hancock. What can I get you tonight?”

Francine kept them in her peripheral vision as their whiskey was put in front of them. Sex fantasies, Felicity had said. She didn’t even know where to start on that one. She picked up the straw and twirled it between her thumb and forefinger.

“Fantasies,” she whispered, tapping the straw against the rim of the glass. “What kind of fantasies? What would I like?”

“Problem?”

She looked over and saw that the man called Franklin was still on his cell phone. Hancock, with dark eyes and dark hair cut short, was studying her.

“Just following orders,” she told him. The effects of the alcohol had her focusing on her words. “It’s very important to follow Felicity’s directions to the letter.”

“I know all about following orders,” he replied. “Maybe we can help. What were her directions?”

“Four or five good stiff drinks, tell the bartender to make sure someone got me safely back to my room, and then dream about every fantasy coming true.”

“What kind of fantasy?”

Hancock gestured at Franklin and the two moved to flank her. Francine sipped on the frothy pink drink and studied the man on her right. He was handsome but she didn’t feel anything. And when he frowned, she realized she had said it aloud.

The other man laughed and spoke into his phone. “Ben’s not quite the lady-killer after all, Grant. He just got shot down at the hotel bar by Francine Lincoln.”

“Very funny, smart-ass,” Ben shook his head. “How about Bron?”

She looked at the man on her left. His dark blond hair was a bit longer and light blue eyes promised all sorts of adventures. But she didn’t feel anything. With a sigh, she took a big swallow.

“I guess Kevin was right. I am an Ice Queen.” She raised her glass. “All hail, Francine the Ice Queen.”

As she finished her drink, Ben shook his head. “Maybe he didn’t know how to fulfill your fantasies. Maybe the problem was him. Not you.”

She cocked her head to one side and considered that. Ben gestured to the bartender for another round.

“You think so?” she whispered.

“What are your wildest fantasies?”

“Oh, they’re too wild.” She giggled. “I mean, I hardly dare even think about them.”

“I doubt you could shock us,” Ben told her. “Unless you’re talking orgies to rival Rome at its worst.”

Francine’s eyes widened slightly and she blushed. “No, nothing
that
wild. At least, I…”

“How many men?”

“Just one,” she whispered as the bartender put another drink before her.

“What does he do first?”

“Well, he…” Francine chattered on, describing in detail her deepest darkest desires to two strangers.

“Grant,” Bron hissed into the phone. “You’re not going to believe this. Keep quiet while I put my cell on speaker so you can hear.”

In the middle of getting the security report, Grant scowled at the speaker phone on his study desk. He’d been distracted enough when Bronson had mentioned Francine Lincoln being in the bar. And now Bron was going to put her on speaker? Maybe she had a horrible speaking voice and that would help him deal with the sexual fantasies that were coming fast and furious. Ah, hell! He opened a drawer and pulled out the magazine, flipping out the double-sized layout of her body sprinkled with rose petals. He could feel his body reacting to the sight.

“You were saying, Francine?” Bronson said. “Finish your drink and tell us more about your fantasies.”

There was a pause and he heard a thud, as if someone had put a glass down.

“Um… Oh, what the hell.” She giggled. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be spanked. After I’ve done something I shouldn’t, of course. Like the man told me not to touch him somewhere and I did anyway, or had an orgasm when he wanted me to wait. I read about that once,” she sighed. “I’ve never done it though.”