A Demonic Bundle (4 page)

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Authors: Lexi George Kathy Love,Angie Fox

BOOK: A Demonic Bundle
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Chapter Four
A
va stared at the man standing inside the doorway, his hand still on the knob, his hazel eyes wide with . . . well, it had to be disgust, right?
She looked down at her sprawled, unladylike pose, the sticky white cream on her fingers. What else could he think?
She straightened up, tugging at her tiny Marc Jacobs skirt with her clean hand, wishing the silk had more give. As she moved, wrappers fell to the floor around her, the clear cellophane splotched with more thick cream.
Oh God. Her cheeks burned with shame. What she’d been doing was revolting, mortifying, wicked in the most hedonistic way. This man had to be appalled.
She looked up from the evidence of vice, expecting him to make a face of utter aversion and leave her there, sitting amid her sticky mess and mortification.
But instead his eyes flicked from her flushed face to the hand coated in her guilty pleasure.
He surprised her further by stepping fully into the room, and releasing the knob. The door slammed closed behind him.
He regarded her a moment longer, then came over to crouch next to her. His gaze left her to focus on the box next to her left knee.
“May I?” he asked, his voice, rich and deep, not quite matching his boyish good looks.
She nodded, unable to speak. She still couldn’t believe she’d been caught, caught right in the middle of the act. And instead of leaving in disgust, he was going to join her.
He reached into the box, pulling out one of her favorite indulgences. The plastic crackled under his touch as he opened the package.
She watched in dazed confusion as he remained sitting on his heels and took a bite.
“Devil Dogs are my favorite too,” he said after swallowing the bite of snack cake. He smiled with obvious enjoyment, the curve of his mouth lopsided, appealing like an adorably naughty boy sneaking a forbidden treat.
Sneaking a forbidden treat. That was what she’d been doing, but she was pretty sure she didn’t look adorable. She looked . . . well, pathetic.
She glanced down at the last bite of cake held forgotten in her hand. She stared at the chocolate and cream for a moment, trying to think of something to say. This wasn’t how she wanted this cute guy, with the kind eyes to see her, hiding in a janitor’s closet scarfing down snack cakes. The stereotype of a binge-eating supermodel.
Of course she wasn’t really a supermodel. But she certainly couldn’t tell him that.
“Pretty tough day, huh?”
Ava met his gaze, surprised at his comment. How did he know? She studied him for a moment, realizing she’d seen him before. He’d been outside Finola’s office today. He’d seen the fight.
Her cheeks flushed hotter.
“Yes,” she managed.
He nodded, his hazel eyes sympathetic. She stared at those eyes, light brown flecked with deep green. She was surprised as she felt tingles of awareness skip through her body.
“Can I help?” he asked. She really did like his voice; it was deep and rich and nice, like strong coffee sweetened with dark chocolate. Smooth, sweet.
Her gaze roamed his face, realizing he was more than cute, really quite handsome. Oh, how she wished he could help. But she simply shook her head.
He studied her for a moment, then to her surprise, reached forward and ran his thumb along her lower lip. She remained still under his brief touch, even though her body rioted with sensations she didn’t understand.
“Cream-filling,” he said, and she blinked, trying to understand what he was talking about. Then he held up his hand and she saw a smudge of frosting on his thumb. To her utter amazement, he lifted the pad of his thumb to his mouth and sucked the confection off.
Her belly—and lower—constricted at the sight and she found herself squeezing her thighs together to alleviate the sensation. It didn’t work.
The man popped the remainder of his own Devil Dog into his mouth, then licked his fingers again when he was done, heightening the unfamiliar tightness in her belly and between her thighs.
“Well, you can’t stay here,” he said. “The floor is cold and hard. It’s going to ruin your skirt.”
Ava couldn’t care less about her skirt, but he was right. She couldn’t hide in the janitorial wing indefinitely. She couldn’t hide at all.
She found she admired the length of his legs, and the hint of powerful muscles in his thighs as he rose. Then she realized he was holding out his hand, offering to help her up.
She hesitated, then slipped her hand into his, immediately aware of his strong, slightly work-roughened palm and long, tapered fingers curling around hers.
He pulled her up, then dropped his hold to bend over and clean up her mess. Seven empty wrappers. He had to be thinking something about that. But when he straightened, she couldn’t distinguish any judgment on his attractive features.
He wadded up the mess and tossed it into a gray trash can in the corner of the office. He placed the almost empty box of Devil Dogs on the janitor’s metal desk.
“Thank you,” she said, offering him a tentative, self-conscious smile.
He smiled back and again she was intrigued by how charming his lopsided grin was.
He opened the door for her, and waited as she peeked out, not seeming surprised by her surreptitious behavior. She supposed he knew binge-eating snack cakes wasn’t an acceptable activity for a model. And she hoped he understood she couldn’t be caught, especially by Finola White herself. She also hoped he wouldn’t mention this to anyone else. She’d been in the gossip rags for much less. But overeating would particularly enrage Finola. That was
not
how her boss wanted her top model labeled.
Finola owned her, and there would be a huge price to pay for defying her. Far beyond just being replaced as the face of
HOT!
magazine. Beyond being fired outright. She would gladly accept either or both punishments. In fact, she would happily go back to the days when she’d been simple Addy Wellmeyer, but that wasn’t going to happen. That girl was long gone—signed away, along with her immortal soul.
She stepped out into the hallway, which was blessedly empty, not that she expected anyone of importance to be in this area.
So who was this man? And why had he come down here? Maybe he was of importance. He had been waiting outside Finola’s office today.
She peeked at him, taking in his clothing. A simple white button down and black pants. Basic black oxfords, scuffed, not very dressy. He looked like a waiter, but that didn’t make any sense here.
She had a feeling he did work here though. In fact, she was sure of that, but where?
She studied his handsome face, a friendly face, a sincere face. From her experience, that wasn’t the norm in this environment.
For a moment, her chest tightened with apprehension. It was impossible to know whom to trust here. What if he was one of
them
? What if he was in the hallway spying for Finola? One of her lackeys.
“Why don’t we take the freight elevator?” he said, startling her when she realized he’d caught her looking at him.
He gestured to the metal elevator doors at the end of the hallway.
She considered him for a second, then nodded. She had no idea why, but she trusted this man. Maybe it was the kindness in his hazel eyes. Maybe that kindness was a ruse, but right now, she needed to believe there was still someone in the world, at least in her world, who was exactly what he seemed.
She followed him, trying not to look at him again. The door finally dinged and slid open. Again like a total gentleman, he waited for her to enter.
Neither spoke as he hit one of the buttons, and the elevator started downward. For a brief moment, Ava realized she had no idea where this elevator went or where she was going. But before she could be too concerned, the door opened into another back hallway.
“Uh, I wonder where we are.”
Ava looked at him, then around. “I—I don’t know.”
“Well, I guess we’ll find out.” He pointed to an unmarked door on their left. He strode over and pushed it open, just a bit, looking out. Then he glanced back at her, a smile making his face go from handsome to beautiful.
“We can go out this way.”
She nodded, again finding it strange how readily she just accepted whatever he said. He pushed open the door, and Ava stepped into a large workroom with different stations set up here and there.
“Welcome to my glamorous world.”
This time as she looked at him, recognition hit. She remembered now. He had been standing with a mail cart. He’d been delivering mail when Finola had been yelling at her.
She glanced around, curious. The place was relatively quiet now, only a few mailroom employees milling around, none of whom hid their surprise as she followed—she supposed she should have asked her conspirator’s name—through the large work area.
“I just have to get some things from my locker. Then I will walk you out.”
She nodded, leaning against the wall outside the little employees’ break room. As she waited, a few more people watched her, some trying to be subtle with their curiosity, others a little more blatant. Ava shifted, feeling awkward.
“Okay, all set.”
Ava knew her relief was clear on her face as she turned to her “new friend.” He smiled, something almost sympathetic in his eyes as if he saw and understood her discomfort.
He gestured for her to head down another hallway. He fell into step beside her. She noticed, from the corner of her eye, that he’d donned a lightweight jacket and had a backpack slung over his shoulder. He looked like an average guy leaving work. A normal guy. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest and an almost crippling longing made it hard for her to breathe.
“Here we are,” he said, the heavy metal door scraping loudly as he shoved it open. Cool evening air greeted her, and she pulled in a deep breath, trying to push away these strange feelings pulling at her.
She knew it was false freedom, but she loved the moments when she stepped out of the
HOT!
building. She could pretend she was just normal. Well, sometimes.
Normal like him.
“Do you need me to hail you a cab or anything?”
She shook her head.
He waited for a moment, as if he expected her to say something, then he nodded. “Okay. Well, be careful.”
Just another moment’s hesitation, then he turned to head down the sidewalk. A sudden, almost panicked feeling tightened her chest, making her breathing shallow.
She couldn’t just let this man walk away. Something intense and deep told her she had to hang on to him, even for just a moment.
“Wait!”
He spun back to face her, his eyebrows cocked in surprise and question.
“Would you like to go get a drink with me?”
Chapter Five
C
harlie blinked. Had Ava Wells just asked him to go get a drink? He had to have heard wrong, but he was damned if he was going to ruin his fantasy and ask her to repeat herself.
“I—Yes, sure I would love to get a drink with you.”
She smiled, confirming he must have heard her correctly. Her expression was lovely, although he noticed a strain around her mouth. A tightness that made the curve of her lips appear almost brittle.
She joined him, starting down the sidewalk. He fell into step beside her.
After a moment, Ava glanced at him. “Do you know a bar we can go to?”
Charlie couldn’t stop the smile that curled his lips. She’d asked him out, but didn’t have a bar in mind. She shot him a sidelong glance when he didn’t answer, and he realized her eyes looked different in person than they did in photos. They were wider now, rather than almond-shaped and sultry. And at this moment, she looked almost innocent, like a wide-eyed babe rather than an exotic, sexy supermodel. Not that she wasn’t still stunningly beautiful. More so, if you asked him.
“I know a place on 8th Street, but I’m sure it’s not your usual type of hangout. It’s just kind of a local dive bar.”
Her chin bobbed up and down even before he finished. “That sounds perfect.”
 
She can’t possibly think this is perfect, he thought as they stepped into the narrow, dim bar. The old, uneven wood floor shifted slightly under their feet, and they could probably hear it creaking if Patsy Cline wasn’t crooning from an ancient jukebox in the corner.
Charlie came to Dino’s maybe once a week—more lately—since the bar was just a block from his apartment. Joey, Dino’s son and the bar’s nighttime bartender, nodded to him as Charlie ushered Ava toward the back where there were more private booths. He suspected Ava wouldn’t want to be recognized here. And while Charlie wasn’t sure whether Joey knew he had a celebrity in his bar, the appreciation in his dark eyes definitely said he noticed her all right.
As they sat down, Ava confirmed his decision about going with privacy. She pulled a hair band out of her small shoulder bag and caught up her thick mahogany hair, tugging it back into a ponytail. Hardly a whopping disguise, but the casual hairstyle did enhance the softer, younger quality he’d noticed as they were walking.
He frowned, again struck that her face seemed altogether different than in her photos. Her cheeks seemed fuller, not as if she’d gained weight, but as if she had a healthy, feminine softness that wasn’t normally caught in her photos. Her shots always flaunted angular cheekbones and a cut jawline. Both of which were her signature style.
Of course, he certainly knew better than anyone the tricks of the photography world. Makeup, lighting, lense effects, airbrushing.
But sitting across the table, Ava looked almost like a totally different person from the famed supermodel. Not that Charlie found that a bad thing. The Ava sitting across the crumby table from him was real. Not some image on a magazine page. He found her gorgeous.
Joey joined them, tearing Charlie away from his speculations. The bartender placed two laminated, single-page menus in front of them.
“The usual?” he asked Charlie. Charlie nodded and thanked him. “And for you, lovely lady?”
Ava didn’t react to Joey’s easy compliment—no smile, no batting her eyes. Instead she looked at Charlie as if that was easier somehow.
“A double shot of whiskey. Straight up.”
Charlie supposed he shouldn’t be shocked by her drink request, since he didn’t know her, but he was. Even more surprised than by the binge-eating episode.
Joey gave a low whistle. “I like a woman who doesn’t mess around.”
Again Ava didn’t acknowledge the bartender. She continued to stare at Charlie. After Joey walked away, she dropped her gaze, picking up one of the worn, smudged menus.
What was going on here? Charlie had figured the binge-eating thing was just a reaction to her fight with Finola. He still did. But there was something more happening—he could sense it. He’d sensed it back at Finola’s office when he’d seen the sadness in her eyes.
“Would you like to talk about it?” he finally asked, deciding maybe that was his best bet. Sitting here speculating about what was wrong was pointless.
Ava’s head shot up, staring at him with those wide, far too innocent eyes. Something flashed through them, hesitation, mistrust, maybe fear. He wasn’t sure.
Joey returned, placing her whiskey in front of her and a lager in front of him.
As soon as the bartender left, Ava picked up her glass and took a deep swig; then her lovely face crumpled as she smothered a gag with the back of her hand. She shuddered, setting the glass down a little too hard. Tears glittered in her eyes.
Charlie smiled sympathetically. Well, he’d been right.
“Not your usual drink, huh?”
She shook her head. “No.” She shuddered again, but to his surprise lifted the liquor back to her full, rosy lips. This time she took a smaller sip and managed to keep most of the disgust off her face.
He sipped his own beer, fascinated by watching her, wondering how he’d got here. What was going on with this woman? And why was she hanging out with him?
Once her glass was empty, he tried again. “Is the whiskey helping?”
She considered the question for a moment, her nose wrinkled like a small child debating a difficult problem, then shook her head. “Not really.”
He couldn’t contain his smile. Ava Wells was much more guileless than he would have ever imagined. Her image was exotic, worldly, sexy—never the beautiful ingénue. He wondered why—he would absolutely love to photograph her this way.
“Well, if the whiskey isn’t working, maybe talking will. Are you upset because of your fight with Finola?”
She stared at him, and he couldn’t quite decide if she was surprised by his directness or not. Her dark brown eyes roamed his face.
Finally she tilted her head and asked, “Where are you from?”
Charlie frowned. Well, that wasn’t what he’d expected her to say, but he supposed it was good that she was talking at all.
“I’m from a small town in Ohio.”
Her eyes lit up. “I’m from Kansas.”
She said that as if they were from the same state, the same town even. But maybe just both being from the Midwest was enough. Was she homesick? Was that it? Maybe she wanted a break from modeling, and she wanted to go home. That might explain Finola’s irritation with her. Maybe.
She picked up her glass, seeming to forget she’d already drained it, then she set it back down.
“But Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” she muttered under her breath at the empty highball glass.
Charlie raised an eyebrow at her words, surprised at the echo of his own recent references to
The Wizard of Oz
. But she wasn’t excited about the world of Oz like he was. She was clearly tired. Maybe even a little jaded, making it interesting that he couldn’t see anything but youthful innocence on her features.
Charlie sighed, feeling a little helpless. Maybe she’d just had a rough day and needed an escape from her exciting supermodel life.
He looked around the rundown bar; he could certainly offer her that.
He picked up his own menu, his fingers sticking to a smear of half-dried ketchup along the edge. At least he hoped that’s what it was.
“Why don’t we order something?” he suggested, waving his menu slightly, offering her a smile.
She shook her head, then nodded. “Actually that sounds good.”
They stared at their menus, both silent.
“See anything you want?” Charlie asked, finding their silence heavy, uncomfortable.
Ava didn’t look up, but instead answered his question with one of her own. “Is your family still in Ohio?”
She was good at that, he realized. Answering his questions with an unrelated question of her own.
“Yes.”
“Do you have siblings?”
“Yes, two older sisters.”
She smiled then, a wistful little curl of her full lips. “The baby
and
only boy? I bet you got bossed around.”
He grinned back, liking that smile. “Just a little.”
Her smile deepened as she looked back at her menu. “I think I will get the meat loaf. Have you had it? Is it any good?”
Charlie had eaten here more times than he was willing to admit. But the prices were decent and he didn’t have to eat alone—well, not exactly alone.
“Nice choice. It’s pretty good. Homemade.”
She glanced up at him, her smile stunning. A strange skittering sensation danced through his chest.
He looked back to his menu, surprised by the odd feeling.
“Is your family still in Kansas?” he asked.
He glanced up when after a moment, she hadn’t answered.
She continued to look down at her own menu. Charlie couldn’t see her eyes, but her lovely smile was gone.
Finally she nodded, just a tiny bob of her head. “My mother is there—she’s the only family I have.”
Charlie wanted to ask more, but he could tell by her closed expression she didn’t want to expound on the topic. Like she didn’t want to talk about Finola White. Tonight, she wanted to forget for a while. He could try to help her with that.
“My middle sister used to make me dress up as a girl,” he said suddenly, not even aware he was going to share that embarrassing little tidbit until it was already out of his mouth.
Ava’s brows drew together, then to his pleasure, she laughed.
“A girl? But she already had an older sister.”
“Well, she wanted all sisters. So I attended many a tea party in her old dresses.”
A sweet, infectious giggle escaped Ava’s full, ruby lips. “Do you still don a dress now and then?”
Charlie widened his eyes, feigning a look of offense. Then he managed an equally believable sheepish smile. “Okay, only when I’m going to a very special tea party.”
Ava laughed again. The sound thrilled him as much as if he’d made the winning catch at a big game. Or flown to the moon. Or made a sad supermodel forget her problems just for few moments.
Joey returned to take their orders. Charlie ordered the same meal as Ava, and Charlie was glad to see that she asked for a soft drink rather than another stiff one. Maybe she didn’t feel quite so much like she needed to drown her sorrows now.
 
Ava took the last bite of her meat loaf, allowing herself to enjoy the home-cooked meal, even though it definitely wasn’t on her model’s diet.
She also watched the man across from her, just letting herself enjoy him too. He was funny and sweet and handsome, but not in the fake, perfected way of most of the men who filled her world. Men with features and physiques she’d found so attractive when she’d been a young girl flipping through fashion magazines and celebrity rags in her tiny bedroom in Kansas. Oh, how she’d coveted that world, those perfect people. What a silly, stupid girl she’d been.
Because right now, she couldn’t imagine finding anything more appealing than slightly shaggy auburn hair, a lean build and a goofy—and wonderfully adorable—grin.
He reached for his beer, and Ava noticed how long and strong his fingers looked against the glass. How nicely muscled his forearms were with his plain white shirt sleeves rolled back. How perfectly shaped his lips were, not too full, not too thin. Kissable lips.
She blinked at that thought, then decided that she could hardly be shocked her thoughts had gone in that direction. She’d been aware of him all night. Aroused by him, if she was being honest.
He was really quite gorgeous in a way she wished she’d appreciated before she found herself in the terrible world she now inhabited. A world of faked perfection. Where no one was real, or genuine, or kind.
But would he be sitting across from her now if she was still average, old Addy Wellmeyer? She shoved that thought aside. She was Ava Wells now—and for once she was going to enjoy the benefits of giving up everything to become this person. The world believed a woman like Ava Wells got everything she wanted. Oh, if they knew the truth.
But tonight . . . tonight, she was going to get what she wanted.
He was just taking a sip of his beer as she asked, “So you said you live near here, huh? Can we go back to your place?”
His eyes widened mid-swallow as if he was going to choke on the the golden liquid. But he managed to lower his glass and school his features into a semblance of calm. The only other sign of his surprise was the slightly too loud clatter of his mug hitting the table.
“Umm, yeah. Sure. Of course we can.”

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