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  I reached down and freed myself from my pants and boxers. With a steady stroke, I imagined the way the night should have ended. We were in the cab, and I was drowning in her deep brown eyes. I claimed her lips, tasting her for the first time. Her hands entwined behind my neck, pulling closer as I slanted my mouth over hers. The cab faded until it was just the two of us, our tongues warring. I pulled her onto my lap and slid my fingers between her soft thighs. She moaned when I touched the thin fabric of her wet panties.

  Groaning, I increased my pace, each imagined touch of her lips sending me higher at a rapid clip. I delved my fingers into her tight heat, swallowing her small cry as I pulled back and stroked her sensitive nub with two fingers. Kissing to her neck, I nipped and sucked at her pale skin as my fingers continued to massage her. She gasped, her body locking. I sent her over the edge and stole her moans with a rough kiss.

  “Fuck!” I yanked up my shirt just in time. I came hard, her memory invading every thought and each noise from my lips.

  When it was over I clenched my eyes shut. This couldn’t happen again. I’d have to go back to some other wank fantasy, because imagining Scarlet would lead to any number of sticky outcomes. Pun intended.

  Three days later I sat in Linda’s sunny, cluttered office in a building that once served as a cannery. The brick walls still bore the imprint of the Candied Cans logo, replete with a swirling blue arrow and a bizarre chipmunk popping out from behind a can.

  “She’s late.” I busied myself with responding to comments on my blog, my fingers flying over my laptop keys as I sat at a round table near the window. Linda had cleared half of the cluttered surface, barely leaving room for three people to sit. She’d already given me a contract addendum—one that allowed her to retain Scarlet’s services for our little venture. With much grumbling, I’d signed it.

  “I bet she’s not even coming.” I tossed a glance at the door.

  Linda was too engrossed in her phone to answer, so I kept working.

  Melissa L.: Dear Scarlet, I showed my boyfriend your Analyzing Anal column and said we could try it. He refused and claimed he had a bad anal experience in college. After that, he wouldn’t even talk about it. What should I do?

  Scarlet Rocket: Just like anal, secrets can’t be forced. They have to be caressed, massaged, and eventually stretched out until everything is open for dialogue. Clearly, your boyfriend has a hang-up that makes him uncomfortable. If you want to get to the bottom of it, start by telling him you won’t judge him, and that you want to know what he likes and dislikes in the bedroom, along with why. Remain non-confrontational and phrase things as gently as possible, preferably with light physical contact like hand-holding. If he still remains on lockdown, I’m afraid you’ll just have to leave the topic alone for a while.

  I sent my reply and scrolled to the next question. Feminine laughter floated to my ears over the sounds of the street below and the secretary prattling away outside the door.

  Though I perked up, I pretended to still be working on the blog. It’s completely normal to flex your biceps while you’re typing, right? After a brief knock, the door opened.

  Scarlet walked in while throwing a comment over her shoulder. “I don’t think off-off-off Broadway is actually a thing.”

  Behind her, a tall, familiar man strode in, an easy smile on his chiseled face. “Don’t hate.”

  My fingers froze on the keys. Commander Reptilian. The star of my favorite sci-fi movie series leaned against the doorframe with uncanny ease. My inner fanboy squealed like a teenage girl, but the fact that he was flirting with Scarlet chipped away at my hero worship.

  “Jason, I didn’t realize we had an appointment today.” Linda rose and air kissed each of them.

  Scarlet wore a retro sun dress with big bursts of yellow flowers. Her pale skin paired perfectly with the fabric, and I found it hard to take my eyes off her, though inner fanboy demanded I keep my focus on the commander.

  Jason handed Linda a sheaf of papers. “We don’t. I was in the neighborhood so I reckoned I’d drop off the contracts for the film instead of mailing them.” He had a Southern accent that, based on hard and fast scientific principles, was widely known to melt panties right off. What a cocknugget. Inner fanboy stares at me, aghast that I’d use such language to describe Commander Reptilian of the Vocknar Fleet.

  Linda added the paper to the unwieldy stack that held sway over the nearest corner of her desk. “Fabulous. And I see you’ve met Scarlet.”

  “She’s something.” He grinned, and they exchanged a familiar look.

  Too fucking familiar.

  I rose so fast I almost knocked my chair over. “Hi.” The word flew out, then died a slow and painful death as three pairs of eyes focused on me.

  “Um, hey.” Jason held his hand out, and I shook it with a bit too much verve. “I’m Jason.”

  “I saw every one of the Aliens Versus Vampires movies. I know you, Commander Reptilian.” Did I just say that? “I mean, I’m Willis.” Inner fanboy jumps and squees, perhaps pees a little.

  He glanced to Scarlet, his blond locks shining in the sun. “Sparky?”

  “That’s him.” She nodded, a faint smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

  She’d been talking about me. Good. Or was that bad?

  “I’ll let y’all get down to work.” He winked at Scarlet. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Rocket.”

  Why the hell did he have to be nice on top of good looking? Douche! Fanboy cries.

  “Later.” She gave him a dainty wave.

  A creeping, oily feeling slithered its way through my gut. One I was barely acquainted with. I’d had girlfriends in the past, and a couple of them had actually complained that I never got jealous. Who was that non-jealous guy? Not me. Because, despite my love for the Aliens Versus Vampires franchise—and my hopes for an eighth installment starring Commander Reptilian—I had the insane urge to pummel his handsome, and notably non-reptilian, face. Never mind the implications of Jason flirting with Scarlet Rocket, who wasn’t even real, yet was also me, but was also this woman with the devilish smirk. It was like flirtation Inception. Flirtception?

  I shook my head and blinked hard. Get your shit together, man.

  Linda scooted Scarlet over to the table. “Let’s get to work. I have appointments, darlings. A day full of them.” She poured herself a glass of what looked like Scotch at a little side table. “Would either of you like a refresher?”

  “No thanks.” Scarlet folded her hands in her lap.

  I checked my watch. “It’s ten in the morning.”

  “Some of us get started earlier than others.” Linda sipped her drink and took the seat to my right. “Now, I have prepared a list”—he fumbled around in the stack of papers in front of her—“Beverly!”

  Scarlet plucked at some invisible lint along the top of her dress, drawing my eyes to the swells of her breasts. God, her skin looked so smooth it rivalled porcelain, but I bet it was softer than silk. She cleared her throat, and our gazes tangled. Her tongue darted out and wet her bottom lip. An image of her bent over the table burst in my brain with an effervescent pop.

  Linda slammed her palm onto the table, breaking our staring match. “Beverly!”

  Her secretary appeared in the door. “Sorry. Sorry, it was just that Jason—”

  “I’m well aware of your crush on him. That’s not the issue.” Linda gave a long-suffering sigh. “Where’s that list?”

  “What list?”

  “You know the list.” Linda took another drink. “The one I made.”

  Beverly maintained an even tone despite the pained look on her face. “Did you mean the um, events roster?”

  “Obviously.” Linda rolled her eyes and settled into her chair as Beverly scurried off.

  “What events?” I closed my laptop and caught Scarlet’s smug stare, her slight smirk getting under my skin.

  “This weekend is a Cosmo affair. I can’t tell if it’s going to be trashy or nice this year. They’re a bit hit
or miss with this event. Next weekend is Vogue. Make sure you arrive with the prerequisite stick up your ass before you go. And the next is Vanity Fair. Maybe try speaking in a British accent for that one. It might alleviate some of the snobbery. Oh, and before all that, I’ve set up a photo shoot for Scarlet this Friday for publicity. I expect both of you to attend.”

  I stared. No, not stared, I scowled at her. “What do these events have to do with me?”

  She drained her glass and eyed the decanter. “You will be Scarlet’s date at each event, my darling. I can get behind using an actress as Scarlet Rocket, but having her play the part when the real writer isn’t even there? That’s a bridge too far. No.” She rose and made good on her thirsty glances by pouring herself another. “Unless, of course, you want to drop this plan and come clean about the real Scarlet Rock—”

  “No.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Okay then, on with the plan. The week after the last party, the book will release, and, if all goes as planned, you two will have drummed up enough publicity for it to be a bestseller.” She held up her glass. “I’ll toast to that.”

  “I want more money.” Scarlet swiveled toward Linda and showed me quite a bit of leg under the table.

  I pulled at my collar even though it wasn’t buttoned. Of course Commander Reptilian had been all over her. She looked like a porn daydream in her good girl dress with the demure heels. But I knew there was a devil underneath. I needed to get away from her before I fell under her spell. That was the smart move. Only spend as much time with her as necessary. Right?

  Linda smiled at Scarlet, the tension ratcheting up between them. “Beverly!”

  The woman clattered down the hall and opened the door. “Yes?”

  “Did you get the signed contract from Ms. Rocket first thing as instructed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Go.” Linda’s smile widened, and she turned back to Scarlet. “You see, darling, there’s a reason I’m the best. Your contract terms are already set.”

  Scarlet relaxed and shrugged. “I had to give it a try.”

  “I understand that more than you know.” She took another draw from her glass. “And I respect you for—”

  “She signed it as Scarlet Rocket or under her real name?” How easy it would be for me to simply take a look at the contract and find out who she was.

  Scarlet’s eyes widened before her brows lowered in a mix of fury and distress.

  Linda shook her head. “Confidentiality is of utmost importance in my business. You’ll have to find out some other way, Willis.”

  Scarlet’s confident smirk returned as I cursed under my breath.

  “But you two need to exchange phone numbers.” She adjusted her glasses, her shrewd eyes catching every last detail. “I can’t act as a go-between for everything.”

  “Of course.” Scarlet pulled her phone out and looked at me expectantly.

  I entered the number Scarlet gave me and called it to make sure she wasn’t up to no good again. Once we’d saved each other’s info, Linda continued, “Now that we’ve got this all settled, you two should be on your way. I’ve more business to attend to.”

  “Wait.” I slid my laptop into my leather messenger bag. “What if I don’t want to go to these events? I don’t have clothes for them.”

  Linda gave me a long-suffering sigh. “You run a very successful relationship blog, right?”

  I cocked my head at her. “I think we’ve established that.”

  “I’m certain there are plenty of style blogs. Maybe take a look at your colleagues for some input.” She walked up and shooed me away from her table. “And if you want to sell books, you’ll go to the events. Simple as that.”

  Scarlet had already walked to the door. “You’ll be just like Pretty Woman.”

  “Except she didn’t have to pay for her own clothes.”

  Scarlet threw me a look over her shoulder. “Oh, she paid. Just not with cash.”

  Touché.

  “Beverly will email you with parties, dates, times, and invitations this afternoon.” Linda sank down behind her desk and started typing rapidly. Her eyes never left the screen as she added, “Good luck. As long as you two don’t make fools of yourselves, this will go swimmingly.”

  “You ready, Sparky?” Scarlet strutted from the office, her hips calling to mind the moment we shared in the cab.

  Swimmingly.

  6

  Scarlet

  “Swimmingly,” he grumbled as we boarded the elevator.

  “We get to go to parties. It’s not a bad deal.” I leaned against the back wall as the doors closed. “Just think of all the wallets, the jewelry, the—”

  “You are not going there to steal.” He pointed a finger at me. “I’ll call this whole thing off, and you won’t get a dime.”

  I snapped my teeth at his finger, and he pulled it back.

  He glared down at me. “What is wrong with you?”

  “What?” I sidled closer. “You aren’t into biters?”

  “I didn’t say that.” He held his ground.

  “You just seem so nerdy and stuck up and like such a, you know, rule follower.” I ran my finger down the front of his shirt. “Biting doesn’t seem like something you’re into.”

  He grabbed my hand and squeezed. “For the last time, keep your sticky fingers off me. And just so you know, I’m into biting, but more giving than receiving.” Tossing my hand away, his scowl intensified.

  The elevator opened, and I strolled past him into the sunny New York day. I turned and pegged him with my too-sweet smile. “How about you buy me lunch?”

  “I have work to do.” He shouldered his bag.

  “What? You have more tragic singles to advise on how to please a man while going down, or maybe another entry in your ‘BDSM for Beginners’ section?”

  He smirked, his personality forcing its way through his high-strung exterior. “Been reading my blog?”

  “I always get to know my marks.”

  “I’m not a mark.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, Sparky.” I stepped toward him, but my ankle turned.

  He caught me before I fell, then set me up straight. “Yeah, you’re a real grade-A criminal. One who can’t even stay on her feet.”

  “You got me there.” I sighed. “Well, if you aren’t buying me lunch, I’d best be on my way.”

  “Good plan.” He held up a hand to signal an approaching cab.

  “See you Friday night.” I turned on my heel and took my time walking away from him, all the while stuffing his wallet into my handbag.

  Sparky: Where are you?

  Scarlet: Getting some lunch.

  Sparky: WHERE ARE YOU?

  Scarlet: Take it down a notch, Sparky. No one likes a yeller. I’m at Tony G’s. They have a chicken parm that will melt in your mouth.

  Sparky: Don’t fucking move.

  Scarlet: Well, that’s just silly, Sparky. I have to move to eat. Then I’ll have to move to pay the bill with the cash I found in your wallet.

  The three dots bounced. Stopped. Bounced again. Stopped. I could imagine him sputtering, his face turning red, his dark blue eyes flashing. Honestly, riling him up was the most fun I’d had in a long while.

  “More wine?” My server offered me the red.

  I nodded. “Fill ‘er up.” I’d decided to take a page from Linda’s book and become a day drinker. Though it would take a lifetime to work up to her level, I was up for the attempt. I took a sip, the full-bodied wine washing down my throat. Lush challenge accepted.

  Rat Pack music played low in the background as the lunch crowd created a buzz through the restaurant. I sat in a corner booth facing the door. It didn’t take long for Willis to burst in, his face just as red as I’d guessed. On a search and destroy mission, he found me and stormed through the tables. I shifted in my seat as he approached. Apparently, unhinged nerd with a great body and a rage issue was a turn-on. Who knew?

  He stopped in front of
my table and leaned over me, his eyes staring daggers through my brain. “Give it back.”

  I slid his wallet across the table. “They already ran a tab for me. So it’s cool.”

  He clutched the leather in his palm and squeezed. “I had a vision of strangling you. And I’m not a violent man.”

  I swirled my wine. “Oooh, foreplay. I like it.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “What is wrong with you?”

  “I just want to get to know you, have some lunch.” Find out your secrets, see if I can sell them. “That’s all.” I sat back, letting him catch a glimpse of the unbuttoned top of my sundress.

  He took the bait, his eyes flickering along my chest. “You’re the devil.”

  “No, I’m Scarlet Rocket.”

  He leaned over, his palms flat on the table, and stared me down. A shudder of desire raced through me, his withering gaze more of an aphrodisiac than a threat.

  “We have to work together.” His words barely made it past his gritted teeth.

  I licked my lips. “Yes.”

  “To do that, we have to trust each other.”

  “Sure.” I batted my lashes.

  “And that means you can’t steal my wallet anymore. You can’t steal anything.”

  I pouted. “But I’m so good at it, Sparky.”

  His shoulders tensed, making a mockery of his button-up shirt. He was so many conflicting things wrapped into one—a nerdy, sexy, uptight, built enigma. When he’d called Jason “Commander Reptilian,” I could barely contain my amusement. Willis was the sort of guy who’d go to those comic conventions and geek out over sci-fi movies, but he also somehow managed to have a sensual intensity right under his surface.

  Sighing, he seemed to come to some decision.

  He pulled up to his full height. “Stay here.” Plucking a twenty from his wallet, he placed the leather back on the table and walked away, then disappeared out of the front door.

  Testing me. He was trying to build trust. That’s what I should have been doing. It was the first rule of any con game. People gave me their trust, and then I took their money. But with him, I was doing it all backwards. From the moment I saw him barreling through the gallery, I’d wanted to drive him to the edge, then push him over. Though it took more than a little effort, I let his wallet remain on the table, unmolested.