What a Girl Wants (2 page)

Oh gawd, yes.
She swallowed back the moan parked at the base of her throat. “I can picture it. I can feel it. I can almost taste it. Taste
him
.” She’d never tasted a man, but she was so going to make an exception in Hawaii.

 
Sweet Jesus.
The scenario excited a fiery carnal sensation from deep inside her chest. Her pulse beat like a marathon runner at the base of her neck. She licked her dry lips and exhaled.

With an unsteady hand, she clicked off her mini-recorder, bent and grabbed her tote bag. She rifled through her bag and took out a couple of tissues. Twisting her hair and holding it with one hand on the top of her head, she blotted the heat across the nape of her neck.

Yanking herself out of her dreamlike state, she concentrated on cooling off. She heard music in the change room and glanced around to locate the source of the tune.
My cell phone.
Her foot had fallen asleep and her hands still trembled from her vivid fantasy. She lowered her now-rubbery leg from the chair, teetered to the side and lost her balance. She grabbed the doorknob behind her for support and managed to remain standing.

Digging the phone out of her tote, she caught the last ring before it went to voice mail. Her lips curved into an automatic smile at the name on the display. Pressing the talk button, she said, “Hi.” She sat on the chair, sounding breathless to her ears. “Hey there, Sergeant.” She drew a water bottle out of her bag and uncapped it.

“Hey, doll,” Alex said, in his deep, yet soft voice. “Are you out for a run?”

“No. Just busy rushing around.” She took a long swig of water. “And recording some notes.”

“Sergeant?” he said. “Should I ask what that’s all about?”

Shit,
she didn’t want to explain it. Not yet.
Not
on the phone
.
“I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Where have you been for the past week?” she asked.

“Meetings and conference calls,” he said, yawning. “How about you? Doing good?”

Good and horny.
“No complaints.”

“Got your message,” he said. “What’s up?”

You in two weeks.
“Reece is having a few of us over for pizza and a friendly game of Texas Hold’em tonight. You in?”

“Friendly?” His low chuckle felt like an orgasm for her ears. “Is that what you call it?”

“Okay, so we changed the rules a bit.”
Like I’m going to change the rules to our platonic status.
“And you didn’t lose that much.” If everything went according to plan he’d be losing his skivvies their first night in Hawaii.

“Right.” Another rich, deep chuckle. “As much as I’d like to donate to your junk food fund,” he said, “I have to take a pass. I’m flying out at midnight.”

She straightened as cold disappointment slapped her chest. Was he bailing from the Hawaiian assignment? “Where are you going?”

“London,” he said. “I’ll be back on Wednesday.”

She resisted the urge to let out a loud
whew
. “How’s your week been?”

“Long. Frustrating.” She could picture him pacing and looking out the twenty-first floor window. “Glad it’s over.”

She leaned back and crossed her leg. “I’m all ears.”

He told her about the ass-numbing meetings and coma-worthy conference calls he had to endure for over a week. If Alex wasn’t in some godforsaken war zone on the front lines, hunting down a story, he was restless. The last time she caught up with him, he looked exhausted—still hot—but drained. Their joint Hawaiian assignment and
her plan
would dissolve his stress.

The sound of his voice and the memory of his default scent—soap and sandalwood trees—combined with her horny hormones and the earlier imagery, tensed her nerve endings like a strung bow, tight, contorted and only the sensation of being taken and filled—probably more than twice a day—would decompress her erratic sensual emotions.

She caught site of her flushed nose and cheeks freckled with perspiration. Her nipples—hard as granite pebbles—strained against the silk material. She touched them with the tip of her finger and imagined Alex’s tongue tracing the round outline of the small areolas.

The vision was so vibrant and strong she let out a wordless moan.
Gawd,
if the fantasy combined with his voice made her tingle in wet anticipation, naked reality with Alex would detonate a lust bomb inside her and she’d disintegrate.

Tiny white dots flashed in front of her eyes. Head rush made her moan. Again.

Holy seared estrogen.
She was so turned on, she was afraid the heat inside her would melt her panties off.
He’s gotta
come
through in Hawaii. And
come
with me. Many, many times.
Another involuntary moan slipped out—a loud one.

Her hand flew to her mouth, she held her breath in hopes he hadn’t heard her.

“Mads?” he said. “Are you okay?”

Damn. He heard.

The persistent knocking on the change room door startled her out of her adrenalized state.

“Excuse me,” a woman said in a pack-a-day voice. “We do not allow inappropriate behavior in our dressing rooms.”

Oh, geeze. Shit. Damn. Was I that loud?

“Hello in there.” The woman tapped out each word on the door. “Did you hear me?”

“You still there?” Alex asked. “Something wrong?”

Embarrassment gridlocked her voice, hands and legs.

“I’m going to call security,” the woman said.

That unlocked Maddie’s senses. “No.” She jumped out of her seat. “Wait. Hang on.”

“What’s going on?” Alex asked. “Where are you? You okay?”

“I’m…I’m fine,” she said, unlocking the door. “I’m in the dressing room at Bloomies.” Covering the phone with her hand, she opened the door and smiled at the lined face, squinting, with a not-so-friendly pucker to her thin lips. “Hi, I’m in here alone.” She opened the door wider. “See, just me.” To her chagrin, her voice hiked to a high pitch on the last word.

The store clerk stuck her disbelieving head in the doorway and glanced around.
Where could someone hide in here?
Maddie wanted to ask. “I’m on my cell.” She held up the phone.

“Maddie?” Alex’s voice echoed through her fingers. “What’s going on?”

“I tend to talk loud. Sorry,” Maddie told the woman, lifting her foot. “And I…I stubbed my toe.” She cocked her head to the side. “I must’ve shrieked, huh? It hurt. The toe that is.”

“Do you need any help?” the woman asked in a hesitant, didn’t-buy-her-story tone.

“No thanks. And thank you for checking on me.” She dismissed the embarrassment out of her mind, closed the door, leaned against it and cleared her throat. “Alex, you still there?”

“What happened?” he said.

“Stubbed my toe.” She sipped water. “Store’s busy today. They’re short of change rooms and need me to clear out.” Blowing a strand of hair away from her face. “You were saying—”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re up to something?”

“Because you have issues,” she said, exhaling a forced smile. “Uptight, suspicious—”

“Yeah, that’s it, wisenheimer.” She could picture his patented eye roll. “Have a good weekend and try to stay out of trouble. I’ll give you a call when I get back.”

“Have a safe flight.” They said goodbye.

Maddie shut the phone and dropped it into her tote, stripped out of the dress and put it aside with the other to-be-purchased items. She dressed into her jeans and T-shirt, ran a brush through her hair, blotted her face and neck with a tissue and coated her lips with clear lip-gloss. A few deep breaths and her pulse and breathing returned to resting state.

“I’m back,” Reece said, knocking.

Maddie opened the door, peered out and noticed Miss Knock-at-the-Wrong-Time lingering and talking with two other store clerks.

“I gave my credit card a workout.” Reece held up a shopping bag. “You done?”

Closing the door, Maddie said, “I want to show you something before we go.”

“Why are you whispering?”

Maddie shrugged her response, sat on the chair and dug into her tote. “I bought research material the day I found out I’d be traveling with Alex.” She handed Reece a hardcover book.

Reece pulled up another chair and sat beside her. “Research material, huh?” Her manicured eyebrow registered curiosity as she read the title. “
The Kama Sutra
.”

With the tension from her earlier encounter evaporating, Maddie leaned back and relaxed. “You can borrow it when I’m done.”

Reece flipped through the glossy pages. “You’d have to be a contortionist to do that.” She pointed to a couple demonstrating
The Lotus.
The woman lay on her back, crossing her legs, and hugging them up to her chin. Her lover thrusting in and out of her, while she held the pose.

“Says here—” Reece ran her finger over the text, “—great for yoga lovers—”

“Right up my alley.”

Shaking her head, Reece flipped through the book. “You got kicked out of yoga class, remember?”

“That instructor didn’t have a sense of humor.”

“You’re not supposed to giggle or chat up the room during meditation or a pose.” Reece let out a teasing laugh. “And here’s a tip, not a good idea to do that during sex.”

“Well, duh. I have had sex.” In her early twenties with a couple of boyfriends. Vanilla and unimaginative—cursory kissing, no boob play, a hasty choochie rub, bypassing an expectant clit, a minute’s worth of pumping, ending with a jizz-busting grunt. It wasn’t entirely their fault, she hadn’t brought a lot of experience to bed and they hadn’t appreciated her desire to use her trusty vibrator afterward instead of indulging in the obligatory spooning session.

“Yoga’s boring,’ Maddie said. “I prefer mountain biking and zip-lining. Now,
that’s
endurance.” Stamina would come in handy for the
bang-me-every-which-way-Alex
marathon.

“Yeah, you can keep those thrills.”

Reece turned the page, illustrating a naked woman suspended in mid air, balancing herself with one hand on the ground, legs apart and her lover glued to her from behind. “I’m not athletic enough for some of these positions,” Reece said, flipping through a few more pages. “Give me good ole doggy with Stuart MacShortie Short.”

“You dumped him because he was lousy in bed.”

Reece turned to the last page. “No, he dumped me when I caught the bouquet at my sister’s wedding.”

Maddie stood and folded the lingerie into the basket.

“Hey,” Reece said, “What does this sticky note say?”

Maddie watched her friend’s reaction. “It’s my plan.”

“Your plan? Oh, this can’t be good.” Reece brought the book closer to her face to read Maddie’s scribbled notes. Her blue eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “A sexual what?”

Chapter Two

“Man is no match for woman where mischief reigns.”

—Honore de Balzac

“A sexual what?”

Alex Donovan raised his voice louder than he’d intended on the patio of the Makana Island Bistro while having a late lunch with Maddie. He shook his head in utter disbelief. He was sure he had heard her suggestion correctly. However, his mind had frozen for a moment.

“Sexual boot camp,” Maddie said, refilling her glass with the carafe of red wine.

Baffled, he tried to focus on her bizarre idea. “Is this carnal academy for your piece?”

“Nope
.
” Saluting him, she gave him a salacious smile. “Private
Saunders reporting for duty, Sergeant Donovan.”

“I’m going to need reinforcements for this one.” He held his wine glass out for her to refill it. “You called me sergeant a few weeks ago.” He drank some wine. “Mystery solved.”

She gazed at him from the top of her glass through her lush lashes. “
Drill
sergeant’s more like it.”

He grinned at her latest shit-disturbing lark. “You? Follow orders?”

“There is that.” She speared a tortellini and a meatball onto her fork. “But I’m willing to learn. Basic training shouldn’t take too long.”

He tilted his wine glass toward hers. “I think you’ve spilled one glass too many, Saunders.”

 “I only had a few ounces.” She picked up a breadstick. “I can handle the heavy artillery.” Her lips formed a delicate “O” as she bit off a small piece. “Imagine what advanced combat will be like.” With her fork, she arranged two meatballs beside each other on her plate, pushed a tortellini between them and moved the breadstick back and forth on top of the tortellini.

Well, fuck me.
That’s the first time his cock had ever twitched—minor movement, but still—over a plate of meatballs and tortellini she’d shaped into missionary position—however, the breadstick was a thin and pitiful replica of a dick.

In spite of his astonishment, the animation on her flushed face drew a smile out of him. “You finished molesting your lunch?”

She trailed a long, slim finger around her plate. “I spotted a shop not far from here—Adam and Eve’s Naughty Mart.” Her voice oozed with provocative suggestion. “Do you think they sell his and hers camo lingerie—”

“Men don’t wear lingerie.”

“We could still browse.” Lifting her glass under her upturned nose, she inhaled the wine. “I’m thinking we could use handcuffs, a whistle—”

“I don’t need props.”
Shut the hell up, don’t encourage her.
But damn, he was curious as to what she wanted to do with a whistle.

“You should be promoted to general then.” Her rosy cheeks lifted into a smile, reaching the mischievous glint in her eyes. “When do I report for duty? And I don’t have a problem going commando.”

He rolled his eyes, cut a piece of steak and shoveled into his mouth. “Of course not.”

“Like right now.”

Chewing the piece of meat until he was sure he wouldn’t choke, he chased it down with a generous gulp of wine. She had to be dicking around. She wore a short jean skirt, black hose and boots when they boarded in New York.

His testosterone receptors would have picked up a naked pussy sitting next to him for over ten hours on a plane, even though they’d slept for most of the flight.

“Thigh highs.” She pinched the black olives he set aside for her from his salad bowl. “And I commando’ed when I freshened up and changed clothes before we landed.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“But you were wondering.” She ate the olives and took a sip of wine. “Let’s discuss boot camp commencement—”

He wiped his mouth with the napkin, set it aside and picked up his wine glass. “Dare I ask where all this is coming from?”

She straightened in her seat and spoke into her spoon as a makeshift microphone. “I, Madison Elizabeth Saunders, am an erotic creature. It is my goddess-given right to participate in the pleasure process. I demand to experience the mini and the mother of them all, the multi-orgasm.”

In the span of a couple of minutes, she had baffled him more than once.

His extraordinary sixth sense and the built-in bullshit detector he needed to survive as a foreign correspondent usually forewarned him of any unexpected dangers. However, with Maddie, his razor-sharp instincts hadn’t kicked in. He’d tried many times to figure her out and had failed.

“Hey, sergeant, you still with me?”

He glanced around, thankful the other diners were busy with their meals and had missed her orgasm speech. “Yeah. Waiting for Scotty to beam me up.”

“You up to it?” For all her bravado, her cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. But the flame disappeared and she cranked up a wicked grin. “Literally?”

He drained the last of his wine and poured a few more ounces from the decanter. There had to be a logical explanation for her new boldness.

Clasping his hands behind his neck, he leaned back in his chair and waited for the
“Gotcha, Alex.”
It never came. She sat in silence, a playful expression plastered on her face. “Okay, Saunders, what’s the story? Jet lag? One of your pranks?”

“I told you.” She finished the two remaining meatballs on her plate and put her fork down with a contented sigh. “I have a plan.”

He unclasped his hands and leaned forward. “I’m still recuperating from your last plan.”

She swirled the wine in her glass. “You need to keep an open mind for this one.”

Well, hell. His mind more than opened, thanks to her nookie camp idea. A kaleidoscopic jumble of snapshots reeled through his head—
mouth-to-dick-combat
and
moisture-seeking missile maneuvers
.

He shook those visions out of his head. “You and your ideas are more dangerous than dodging bullets.”

She clicked her tongue—probably mistaking his
holy-fuckhorse-is-she-serious?
look
—
for an exasperated expression. “C’mon, Donovan, where’s your sense of adventure and fun?”

“Yeah, I get it. This stunt is for Reece’s comic strip, and I’m your guinea pig. Again.”

“Those red-polished toenails did earn Reece a lot of fan mail.”

He lifted his wine glass in mock salute. “Happy to oblige. My reputation as a serious reporter, notwithstanding.”

“It’s not my fault you’re a sound sleeper. Stop napping on my couch.”

“Sweetheart.” He laced the endearment with sarcasm. “I didn’t have time to remove your artwork from my toes, and I showered at the gym that day. The guys still call me Babe.”

“Didn’t he play baseball?” The warm breeze ruffled her thick shiny hair around her laughter. “I’m sorry.” She dabbed at her eyes. “Okay, turnaround is fair play.”

Her sandal hit the wooden deck with a low thump. She swung to the side and lifted her bare foot, wiggling her toes. “I painted yours,” she said, fiddling with her hair, twirling the ends. “You paint mine.”

“Not in this lifetime.”

“I won’t tell.”

“Right.”

His gaze traveled from her pink-tinted toes to her well-defined bare calves. That damn kaleidoscope returned with a vengeance. He pictured himself sitting on the floor, lubing her feet with oil, her toes playing with his full balls and then wrapping her warm slippery feet around his throbbing cock, rubbing back and forth and up and down.

His dick bristled, making its way to high-noon position.

What. The. Fuck?

He did not have a foot fetish and had never fantasized about shooting his load on a woman’s toes.

 “Okay.” She turned in her chair and faced him. “Let’s get back on track and talk about the hot fun we can have on this gorgeous island.”

“That joke’s over.” He drained his wine. “Everyone needs a friend to act goofy with, and God only knows why, but I’m glad you’re mine.”

He liked hanging out with two types of women: women who made him laugh
¾
like Maddie
¾
and women who made him horny…blonde, know-the-score babes with a big rack. He did enough thinking and committing in his career.

 He tented his fingers on the table and adopted a serious tone. “Okay, what’s going on? We’ve been friends for over six years.” They had always steered clear of intimacy. He had erected an imaginary neon “Hands Off” sign over her sweet head when he had first met her. Even though their present bantering gave him the urge to bring her to bed and do her until she couldn’t walk for a week. That would suck ass big time, since he’d be performing career and friendship suicide. “You’ve never given me any indication you were interested in a
¾
what did you call it, a sexual boot camp. Now you have this one-track mind?”

“And it’s waiting for your train to pull in.”

He poured a tall glass of ice water, downed three-quarters of it and bio-fed the ice cubes to cool him off. “You need a real vacation, not another assignment.”

“Exactly. I’ve worked my tooshie off for the past four years. If sex were a religion, I’ve been a dedicated atheist.” She finished her wine. Her expression had mischief written all over it. “Want to take a trip downtown for a boxed lunch?”

“You did
not
just say that.” Where did she come up with this stuff all of a sudden? “
Playboy
called, they’d like their porn metaphors back.”

“Oh, please.” Her lips twitched at the corners. “As if that embarrasses you.”

No, but the mental image she’d created kept his attention and cock at full mast and now he wondered what it would be like to pleasure every molecule of her being.
Damn it.

As discreet as possible, he slipped one hand under the tablecloth and with a flick of his wrist he rearranged himself to the side to ease his erection’s pain from the buttons on his fly.

 “If,” she continued, “I mean,
when
I reach my peak with a man instead of my toys, I’m sure the
Star Trek
soundtrack will be playing in the background with Captain Kirk saying, ‘To boldly go where no man has gone before.’ Well, okay, I did have a few dates and we—”

“Maddie, change the subject.”

She waggled her eyebrows. “Too much information?”

The waiter’s arrival halted their conversation. They both ordered dessert and coffee. The band warmed up at the bar, Alex turned his head with feigned interest and watched them. He liked Maddie’s playful wit and valued their friendship. They had other stuff in common besides the fact that they worked for the same magazine, like their love of travel and their allergies to phonies. Maddie was as real and honest as any woman he’d met. What you saw was what you got.

What was the deal with this sudden shift in her attitude toward him? It had to be one of her elaborate gags. After all, Maddie was dubbed “The woman with a black belt in mischief”.

A memory of his last colleague-turned-lover-turned-bitter-enemy still lingered in his gut. The experience had taught him friendship mixed with sex was a recipe for disaster. It had also taught him it wasn’t possible to keep up camaraderie once they had sex. Women always resented him for choosing work over a committed relationship.

Cupping his chin with one hand, he tapped his fork against his wine glass in time with the music and watched Maddie finish her wine. Her complexion took on a pink tinge.

He had a clear shot of freckles sprinkled across her chest. He noticed the subtleties that took her from looking pretty to now looking pretty fuckin’ hot. He parked his gaze on the way the V of her T-shirt accentuated her long neck and round shoulders. The green color of the material deepened her green eyes to a luminous teal. She wore tiny silver studs in her ears—ornaments beckoning to his mouth to lick, nip, graze with his teeth, and kiss behind her ears.

What the hell was wrong with him? Gawking? He shouldn’t gawk at his best friend’s perky breasts. He was well on his way to a woody hard enough to crack walnuts.

He needed a boner buster. Now.

Think about Sister Agnes in a black thong on a cold rainy day.
He focused on breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Yup. That helped to soften things to half-mast.

He pushed his glass away. The long flight and the wine had tampered with his perception. The thought of even considering her wild idea was madness. Maddie’s uncle signed his paycheck, and more importantly, George Saunders had given him a break after the infamous Crystal Washington humiliation. He’d vowed eternal loyalty to the man. Moreover, he’d learned from his mistakes.

This should shut his pleasure sensors down.

“As I was saying.” Maddie hauled him back to the conversation. “I want you to be my sexual mentor while we’re on this island. When we get back home, you can go your way and I’ll go mine.” She reached out and touched his hand. “We can still be friends. Nothing has to change.”

He tapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. “That’s right. A guy’s best friend is usually his fuck buddy. Bang her, have a game of backgammon and pretend nothing happened.” He chuckled. “You’re a trip.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere. Listen, I have it all worked out. Sex with no strings
¾
”

“Maddie.” He bowed his head and arranged a show of guilt he hoped didn’t look too strange on his face. “I feel used, cheap and disposable. I have the urge to call every woman I’ve slept with and apologize.”

“Puleeze. Your act couldn’t get you a job as a seat filler at the Oscars.” She dabbed her mouth with the napkin, crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward. “No strings. No mess. Got it?”

“I got it.” He pointed at her. “This prank is over the top, even for you.”

“I am tired from the trip so, yeah, probably a bit loopy, and I admit I’ve pulled a few fast ones on you. But this time I’m not kidding around.” She sat back in her seat. “We’ve had open discussions on everything, including sex.”

“In general terms. Never about us.”

“Okay for the sake of argument I’ll discuss this in
general
terms,” she said, drumming her fingers on the table. “Why should a woman go without sex because she hasn’t met Mr. Right? And you know what, a lot of us aren’t even waiting for him. Some of us want to enjoy Mr. Right
Now
. Men don’t have the monopoly on sex without a commitment. It’s sexual karma and it’s about time.” She grabbed her purse beside her, rifled through it and pulled out a pen and paper. “Ah, I just remembered what I need to do.”