Some Girls Do (11 page)

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Authors: Leanne Banks

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BOOK: Some Girls Do
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“My pleasure,” he said, gently nudging her back against the Cadillac. “The whole evening has been my pleasure. I hate to see it end,” he said.

“Me too.”

“Maybe it doesn't have to end,” Chad said, lowering his mouth to hers. He pressed his lips against hers, slow and easy, as if he were waiting for her to protest.

Wilhemina's heart pounded so fast she hoped she wouldn't faint. He slid his tongue inside her mouth and she opened her mouth in shock. She felt his hand squeeze her waist and hoped he didn't think she was too chubby. He moved his hand up her rib cage to the bottom of her breast and she couldn't stop a sound of surprise from the back of her throat.

“Like that?” he asked in a sensual tone. “I've got what you're looking for, Wilhemina.”

Her head in a fog, she stared into his blue, blue eyes. Could this be happening to her?

“I can give you what you want,” he said. “And I'll give you a real good price.”

Her body still churning with desire, Wilhemina blinked.
Real good price?
She shook her head. “Price? Good price?”

He nodded, licking his lips as he skimmed his hand down to her wrist and fondled her diamond tennis bracelet. “I'll take you anywhere you want to go and give you anything you want for a hundred dollars a day. You're rich and lonely. I'm broke and available. You've got the money, honey. I've got the time. We're a perfect match.”


Don't take a man back once he's done you wrong. It's like hoping the milk is still fresh after it's been sitting in the heat all day

—S
UNNY
C
OLLINS'S WISDOM

Chapter 8

S
hock stopped her speech for a full moment. She shook her head. “You want me to
pay
you to spend time with me?” she asked, incredulous.

He shrugged. “It could be a nice arrangement for both of us.” He grinned, flashing his dimple. “Think of me as your very own boy toy escort.”

Wilhemina felt as if she'd been kicked. Her throat tightened and she felt the threat of tears. Was she so weird that it would be impossible for someone to genuinely want to be with her? Why did she attract so many jerks? She'd had such hopes for this trip.

She looked at Chad and something inside her snapped. She was sick and tired of being disappointed. She remembered years ago in elementary school when a fellow student taped a sign on her back that said “Kick me.” She wondered if she was still wearing that sign. A spurt of hot anger broke through her cold shock. Her fingers itched to slap him. She inhaled a quick breath of air. She wondered what Katie would do in this situation. Her father, she knew, would haggle over the price. “Boy toy escort,” she echoed, pulling back slightly.

“I could show you a really good time,” he promised with a nod of pride.

“For one hundred dollars a day,” she repeated again, wondering where he had acquired such arrogance. Filled with hot outrage, she backed farther away from him. “How do I know your equipment meets my specifications?”

He gave a lazy yet confident grin. “My equipment's fine. I've never had a single complaint.”

“But that's just your word,” Wilhemina said, her heart pounding with fury and exhilaration as she turned the tables on him. “I need proof in order to pay you a hundred dollars. A hundred dollars is a lot of money.”

The barest hint of uneasiness crossed Chad's handsome face. “Well, I might be willing to negotiate. I'm a reasonable man. How about seventy-five dollars a day?”

“I don't know. I still don't know if you have” the right stuff,” Wilhemina said, wondering why she hadn't seen how slimy he was from the start.

“Well, what do you want me to do? Show you?” he demanded, hands on hips.

She bit her lip, resisting her overwhelming urge to laugh. “You know, I think that may be best. It's always better for both parties to have full knowledge and agreement before proceeding into a partnership, no matter how temporary the partnership,” she said, reciting what she'd heard her father say a-gazillion times before. She backed another step away.

Frustration and desperation warring on his face, Chad looked from side to side. He sighed. “Okay,” he said, unzipping his jeans and dropping them along with his briefs to his knees.

Wilhemina bit her lip as she pretended to study his organ, which appeared to be shrinking in the night air. Already moving away, she glanced back up at his face. “I think I'll pass,” she said and walked briskly toward the lobby of the hotel. She heard Chad scream profanities at her and she picked up her pace.

Stumbling inside the lobby, she raced to the elevator and stepped inside. Pressing the number for her floor, she waited until the doors slid closed, then leaned against the back wall, her heart pounding a mile a minute.

She couldn't believe what she had just done. She wondered where she'd found the nerve. She'd spent her life feeling like a weirdo, like a victim.

The rush of power made her light-headed and she began to laugh so hard her eyes watered. She would never forget the look on Chad's face when she'd rejected his offer. Sniffing and wiping her damp cheeks, she walked to her room and entered to find Chantal mewing balefully. Tensing, Wilhemina quickly checked the curtains and felt a trickle of relief that Chantal hadn't done anything destructive.

Freshening the cat's water bowl, she chuckled again at Chad's indignation. She sank down on the bed and the cat jumped up beside her. Wilhemina absently rubbed Chantal's hairless little head. “Chad definitely was not any cowboy knight,” she murmured, wondering if such a thing existed. “Maybe I should just go back to Philly. Katie's probably sick with worry.”

She sighed, discouragement seeping through her veins. What if she was on a crazy wild goose chase? Something inside her balked at the thought of returning with her tail tucked between her legs. Wilhemina felt as if she'd spent most of her life discouraged and defeated. She couldn't bear the idea of seeing pity in Katie's eyes. No, she wasn't ready to return, she decided. Whether she found a cowboy knight or not, she was going to have her own-adventure.

Nothing was going to stop her.

After visiting three nightclubs in Dallas, all Katie wanted was to go to sleep, but she wouldn't dare let Michael know how tired she was. She'd already embarrassed herself with that anxiety attack on the plane and heaven knows what all she'd told him after taking the Valium.

They headed for Fort Worth, also known as Cowtown, and arrived at a huge bar just after midnight. The place was still jumping. Michael flashed a photo of Wilhemina to the main bartender and he shook his head.

Michael returned to Katie's side. “Let's try one more tourist trap bar, then find a place for the night. We can start calling hotels on the list,” he said, raking his hand through his hair. “We'll find her. She'll stick out among all these cowgirls.”

“The same way you do,” Katie said, unable to squelch her thoughts.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you definitely don't look native Texan. You look and sound pure Philly.”

He shrugged. “I'll put on a pair of jeans tomorrow, but I draw the line at boots and a ten-gallon hat.” He scrutinized her. “You look like you're about ready to fall over.”

“I'm okay,” she lied. “It's just been a long day. Why don't we try another bar?”

He hesitated as if he were reconsidering, then nodded. “Let's go.”

The bar yielded no leads, and Katie and Michael checked into separate rooms at a chain hotel close by. Michael insisted on carrying her bag to her room. “Thank you,” she said as she pushed open her door. “I wouldn't have expected you to be so…”

“So what?” he asked, the intensity of his gaze unsettling her.

“Gentlemanly, considerate,” she said, and wincing at her bluntness, she rushed to explain herself. “I can tell you're very goal-oriented and when you're focused on solving a problem, it's sometimes hard to remember things like—”

“Manners,” he finished for her. “And kindness. You mentioned my lack of kindness before. I think you also said something about me being charm-free twenty-four hours a day.”

Katie winced again. “I guess that sounded a little harsh.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. I've been working twenty-four/seven for the past few years. I haven't had time for charm school. For that matter, almost all of my communication has fallen into the category of necessary business communication.”

She frowned. “Why have you been working so much?”

He appeared to stifle a sigh. “That's another story for another time. Too long for tonight. You need your sleep. I want to be out of here by seven
A.M.

“No problem,” she said. “Is it okay if I meet you downstairs?”

“That'll work. Sweet dreams, Katie,” he said, surprising her with his civility.

“You too,” she said and entered her room. She eyed the bed with extreme lust. Her body begged for me immediate gratification of clean sheets and a soft pillow.

Tsk. Tsk. Your body's begging for what just walked down the hall, Priss.

Resisting temptation, Katie shook her head and grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste from her duffel bag. “This time you're dead wrong, Mama. There can't possibly be any sex good enough to compete with the pleasure of sleep tonight.”

Spoken like a true virgin,
her mother's voice echoed inside her with amusement.

Katie turned the water on full force to drown out the sound. Her mind bounced between Wilhemina and Michael as she brushed her teeth. She wondered where Wilhemina was, if she was barhopping or heading for the open road. She wondered if they were looking for a needle in a haystack. After all, Texas was a big state and Michael wanted to keep their search low profile so Ivan wouldn't find out.

She wondered what had made Michael work so hard during the last few years. She still couldn't believe he'd carried her luggage for her. Remembering he had caught her as she fell on the plane, Katie felt her stomach take a dip. She frowned at the sensation and spit into the sink.

It was the aftereffects of the Valium and lack of sleep, she briskly told herself and stripped out of her clothes. Pulling on an oversized T-shirt, she set the alarm clock on the bedside table. She slid between the sheets and moaned in pleasure. She vaguely recalled the sensation of waking up draped over Michael's body. His body had been warm, his muscles strong, his masculine scent appealing.

Wrapping her arms around the spare pillow, Katie inhaled the clean, crisp scent. “The bed is better,” she told herself and mentally turned off her mother's protest.

The following morning, Michael sipped his third cup of coffee as a tall, lean-blond woman in jeans walked toward him. She set her duffel bag next to him. He blinked, not recognizing her for a full moment.

“Sorry I overslept,” she said breathlessly. “I can grab a bagel and coffee and I'll be ready to go.”

He noticed her hair was still damp and she wore not a smidgen of cosmetics on her face: “We've got a few more minutes.”

“Three,” she corrected.

“Three?”

She pointed to her watch. “Three minutes. You said you wanted to leave by seven.”

“We can wait a few more. I'm mapping out the plan for the day.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

Still blinking, he watched her bound toward the self-serve counter. He took in the sight of her hair falling down her straight back, her curvy bottom and long legs. It occurred to him that Katie had a very nice ass. He watched her tap her foot impatiently as she toasted a bagel. She grabbed a miniature container of cream cheese and poured a large cup of coffee, then put it all on the table across from him. She spread cream cheese on half the bagel, lifted it to her mouth to take a bite, then paused. “Why are you staring at me?”

“You look different.”

“My hair's wet,” she said with a trace of self-consciousness.

“And you're not wearing an ugly gray dress or your ugly glasses. You look eighteen.”

She chuckled, and it was a husky, sexy sound. “I'm not,” she said and took a big bite of the bagel. She chewed it, then followed with a long sip of coffee. “Hot,” she said, pursing her lips and inhaling to cool her tongue: “I felt about eighty after yesterday. What about you? Did you sleep well?”

“I didn't hit the sack until three,” he said with a shrug.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Why?”

“I called all the hotels on the list the car rental agent gave us.”

“And?”

“And Wilhemina stayed at a Dallas Hyatt night before last, but checked out yesterday morning. She's apparently on the move. She took out a big cash advance on her credit card, so we won't be able to track her that way anymore.”

“Should we visit the Hyatt to see if she talked to anyone about her plans?”

“That's on the list, but I have a hunch we'll just be backtracking. If Wilhemina is serious about finding a cowboy, she'll head away from Dallas.”

“True. Are you sure we're going to find her?”

“I have no doubt,” Michael said, ready to tear apart the entire state if necessary.

“I'm glad you ditched the suit. Are you sure you won't try a Stetson?”

His lips twitched at her faintly teasing tone. “I'm fine. Are you ready to go? I've already covered the bill for both rooms.”

She nodded. “Ready,” she said and reached for her duffel bag.

Michael automatically grabbed it first. He caught the look of surprise on her face. “You're not used to having a man carry things for you, are you?”

She shook her head. “I'm a worker bee. It wouldn't occur to Ivan to—”

“I wasn't talking about Ivan,” Michael said.

She looked at him blankly for several seconds, then realization occurred and she laughed. “Oh, well that would entail me having the time and inclination to meet men, and I haven't had either.”

“You have Sundays,” Michael pointed out.

Her face closed up like a candy shop at the end of the day. “My Sundays aren't for meeting men.”

They rode to Dallas in an uneasy silence. Michael sensed he'd stepped over the line when he'd asked about Sundays. Her reaction only made him more curious, but he needed to focus on finding Wilhemina.

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