CardsNeverLie (11 page)

She smiled. “Your idea of bad old days and mine is probably
different. I’ll tell you what the bad days have caused me to fear. I saw you
with another woman earlier. That’s fast work, if you’re this hot for me. It was
only a few hours ago. How many women do you try to hook up with at any given
time?”

Rob took his hands off her and smoothed down her dress. “I
know a lot of women. You’ll have to be more specific. This is a business
convention, you know. There’s a ton of people, including women, around here.
And yeah, some of them hit on me. It’s that kind of business as well you know.”

“No, I don’t know, Rob, as I have said over and over until
I’m blue in the face. She was beautiful,” Melanie said, enunciating each word
carefully. “Long dark hair, petite. Asian. Young.”

“Oh you mean Tida,” Rob said, relieved. “I just hired her.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah really,” Rob said, not appreciating the level of
hostility in her voice. “I needed a new nurse.”

“She’s a nurse?” Melanie crossed her arms.

“A nursing assistant, but that’s close enough for what I
need her for.”

“And what is that?” An acid tone had entered to her voice.

“To replace your cousin. And I had to pay her a small
fortune too to get her.” As soon as he said it, Rob knew he had made a terrible
error in judgment. There would be no sex tonight with this dangerous,
infuriating woman.

“You replaced my cousin?” Melanie’s beautiful mouth set into
a thin line.

“I had to,” Rob said, noting her murderous expression but
knowing he had every right to defend himself. “She wasn’t coming back. She returned
my flowers and didn’t even open my note.”

“Flowers and cards don’t sound like a professional gesture
of respect,” Melanie snapped.

“They worked with her before.” Again he mentally knocked
himself on the head. Why couldn’t he control his tongue around her? She crept
inside all of his defenses.

Melanie gasped. “Of all the pig-headed man things to say. No
wonder Brisa doesn’t want to work there anymore. She’s a professional.” She
jabbed a finger at Rob’s chest. “I’m going to recommend she sues you!”

She pulled herself to her feet, holding the handrail for
support. Turning, she snaked up the steps before Rob had a chance to react.

He closed his hand onto her damp, ruined panties, lying on
the steps. They were all that remained of the possibilities. He didn’t pursue
her. Eventually, he went back through the stairwell door and tossed the
shredded garment into the first trashcan he saw. He joined the grandparents and
kids and conventioneers in the elevator. Ignoring the stares of the tourists,
he pulled out his cell phone again. He needed to get practical and track down
Jack to do some damage control. Could they offer Bombshell a settlement before
Melanie’s sense of vengeance caused her to sue?

“Jack? You aren’t going to believe this. I met an adult
actress down here who is actually related to Bombshell.” He listened for a
second. “Yeah, no kidding. It’s going to get complicated. This actress has a
real mad-on for LeatherWorks. We’re going to have to settle this. She’s made
accusations.”

And once Bombshell was taken care of, former porn star or
not, Rob was going to reach clarity on the subject of this woman. He’d never
met one who intrigued him the way she did. Melanie, or Honey, or whoever she
was, made him feel alive. And that was a feeling worth pursuing.

Chapter Eight

“She’s a little skittish,” Tommy Joe said to the babe
wearing a black leather catsuit as she undid the manacles holding him to the
pole. The cuffs had been so comfortable he didn’t even need to rub at his
wrists to get the circulation going. He decided to pick himself up a pair
during a session break tomorrow since he wouldn’t be able to take a five-finger
discount now. No one in this crowd would believe the cuffs the catsuit-clad
woman held were his—they matched the other three sets on the display and were
probably a new model.

“I think this is your girlfriend’s,” the woman said, handing
him a purse.

Tommy Joe took it, recognizing the purse as Melanie’s.
“Thanks.”

As he stepped out of the booth, a man in a Hawaiian shirt
came up and handed him a card. “I’m with Hula Films. Give me a call.”

Tommy Joe took the card. “Why?”

“You’re a fresh face. I don’t think I’ve seen your pictures.
Maybe we can work together.”

They couldn’t be serious. “Thanks.” But no thanks. His
brother would kill him if he did a porn movie. He shoved the card into his
pocket until his finger touched a smooth surface. The massage oil. Melanie.
Where had she gotten to anyway?

Ignoring the crowd, he left the trade show and went
upstairs, but Melanie didn’t answer when he knocked at her door. He frowned and
decided to call her from his room. Maybe she was too embarrassed to face him
after running away. She shouldn’t be. He liked his women demure, though it did
excite him to see a little spice now and then, as long as they didn’t get out
of hand.

She didn’t pick up the phone. “Melanie, it’s Tommy Joe,” he
said into voice mail. “It’s okay, I know you’re embarrassed, but I’m not mad at
you, honest. Come by my room, we still have that massage to discuss. Okay? Or
let me know if you need a rain check. Talk to you soon.”

Tommy Joe realized he was still holding her purse. He tossed
it on his bed. The clasp came undone and its contents spilled onto the duvet.
He grinned at the breath mints, got turned on by the condom and was shocked by
the room key. Where was she? He had her money and her identification was
probably in her room. He left his room and went back down the hall to bang on
her door again but still, no one answered. He slid the key card into the lock
and entered her room. The lights were out, so he turned them on. The room
looked the same as his, but it smelled like Melanie’s lily of the valley
perfume. He didn’t like the strong scent and when Melanie married him, he
decided to insist she wear a rose perfume, a more delicate, feminine scent.
Nonetheless, feeling his penis tingle with the first sensation of an erection,
he inhaled deeply, to hold him until he saw her again.

He looked around the room before checking out the closets.
Melanie sure had sexy taste in clothes. He ran a hand down the front of her
jeans. He’d like to get his hands down there when she was in them, but give him
time. She’d see she was meant to be his.

Crossing to the big purple monstrosity by the window, he saw
something written on hotel stationery. He sat down and picked up the paper.
“Midnight oil”, he read. “Burn the midnight oil”. Small black champagne-shaped
bottles with eye logos were sketched on another sheet. “Cranberries? Cinnamon?
Definitely musk” were written on another sheet.

These must be Melanie’s ideas, he thought excitedly. His
brother needed to see these notes immediately. He folded them up and called
down to the front desk.

“My friend Melanie Vanderpool in room 1711 dropped her
purse. I wanted to let you know that I left it and her key card in her room in
case she reports it. And you’ll need to let her into her room. I’ll vouch for
her if necessary.”

“Thank you, sir,” the desk clerk said.

Tommy Joe looked at the notes in his hand. If he took them,
Melanie might come back before he could return them. He saw the fax machine on
the desk and ran the sheets through to make copies. Melanie didn’t return.
Feeling giddy, he put the originals back on the table, smoothing out the
creases he made, and opened the door of the room. The hall was empty.

He scampered back to his room and called his brother.

* * * * *

Rob saw Anita flirting with a few producers at the
continental breakfast the next morning and made his way over to her, juggling
two bagels, a small container of cream cheese and a black coffee.

“I hope you aren’t bringing that to me, Robbie darlin’,”
Anita purred. “Do you know how many calories are in one of those? My thighs
wouldn’t survive.”

Rob took a big bite out of one of the bagels to show her how
little he cared. “Maybe you need to exercise more.”

“Oh!” Anita gasped and socked him in the chest. “You
monster!”

Rob grinned. “Speaking of nice thighs, what is the deal with
Honey, or Melanie, or whatever she is calling herself these days?”

“What makes you think they’re the same person?” asked Anita
with a glint in her eye.

Rob began to doubt the evidence of his own eyes. He’d never
seen Anita show the slightest sign of hostility in all the years he knew her.
“They are the same person, aren’t they? I saw the clips from
Techno Dreams
.
If it wasn’t her she must have a twin.”

“And you’re saying she doesn’t have a twin?”

Rob frowned. “Not that I know of. A cousin, yeah, but
Melanie looks more, I don’t know…amazing…sexy…”

“You want her,” Anita said. “You’re so blinded by lust you
couldn’t possibly see any imperfections.”

“What’s your point?”

“I don’t know, Robbie. But Melanie isn’t Honey. She’s too
innocent.”

“She’s divorced,” he protested. “She can’t be that
innocent.”

“The ex is in his fifties and married her when she was
barely eighteen. I remember her talking about it on New Year’s Eve. We’re
talking major father figure. Melanie seriously doesn’t know how to party, you
know? But Honey, that girl did some partying.”

“So you’re saying that whoever Honey is, she’d have some
mileage on her. Even though she can’t be that old.”

Anita shrugged. “I haven’t seen her in years. What do I
know?”

He had to be certain. His present life wouldn’t survive a
real, even though former, Honey Luscious as his lover. His grandfather would
fire him. He had no tolerance for anyone he considered “low lifes”. “So are you
sure Melanie isn’t Honey Luscious?”

“She’s who she says she is.” Anita’s normally sunny
expression darkened to something like hurt. “What does it matter what her past
is if you like her now?”

Rob took another bite of his bagel. He wasn’t sure he wanted
to examine that question too closely, to admit he wouldn’t choose a woman over
a job, even with all the excuses he might offer about his family’s business.
“Anita,” he said, pointing the remaining half of a bagel at her, “if she’s
Honey Luscious, she’s lying to me, okay? Don’t make any more of this than it
is.”

“You never dated any of us actresses, dancers or models in
all these years.”

At first, his grandfather wouldn’t have approved, which kept
him in line, though he had wanted to experiment. Later, he had seen the older
man’s point. The industry tended to pass sexually transmitted diseases around
like candy. “So I don’t piss in my own playpen. What’s your point?”

Anita looked away. “I know Melanie isn’t the actress. Also,
I know what Honey Luscious’ real name is.”

“What is it?” Rob demanded.

“Don’t be getting high handed with me. What business is it
of yours?” Anita put her hands on her generous hips.

“It’s going to be a lot easier to get rid of Drew Huntley if
I know what the truth is. Do you want to help Melanie or not?”

“Believe it or not, I think Melanie can take care of
herself,” Anita shot back at him. “After all, she just got a big promotion.
She’s the new Product Design manager at Professional Massage.”

Pain shot behind Rob’s left eye, like an instant migraine.
He grabbed Anita’s arm. “You can’t be serious, Anita. That’s even worse!”

She looked startled. “Excuse me?”

“She’s here to spy on me!” he exploded and sloshed coffee
down his hand as he jerked it up. He shook it off and the burning sensation
stopped.

“What are you talking about?” Anita held her ground, but Rob
noticed she was looking a little worried. He let go of her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, making an effort to moderate his tone.
“Let me explain. Professional Massage is trying to buy LeatherWorks from
Grandfather.”

Anita’s carefully painted rose mouth made a moue of
surprise. “Oh. And you don’t want to sell of course.”

“They keep asking for a meeting with me. I’ve had Jack hold
them off. If they can buy the company, fine, but they’re not picking my brain.”

“But Melanie hasn’t ever discussed it with you, has she? She
never said a word to me about business when your name came up.”

“So she can keep a secret.”

“I don’t know, it’s certainly not a secret that she thinks
you’re hot. She never quite says, but you know, a woman knows these things,”
Anita smirked.

Rob waved her comments off impatiently. “She hasn’t been
honest about why she is interested in me certainly.” In fact, he thought, at
first she didn’t even know who he was. He remembered her surprise when she
found out.
You’d think Professional Massage would have supplied her with a
dossier.
Of course, her cousin had worked at LeatherWorks. He wondered if
Bombshell had been a spy. Maybe. It was a good thing she had quit and this was
something he could hold against her if she tried to sue. What a mess.

He shoved a hand through his hair, forgetting the coffee
drips until he felt moisture on his forehead. “Shit,” he muttered.

He knew he was going to have to apologize to Anita for his
behavior later. Rob dumped what was left of his tasteless breakfast into a
garbage can on the way out and took the stairs up to his room to let off some
steam, but the stairway held memories now. He remembered the glazed passion in
Melanie’s eyes as he gave her the ultimate pleasure. Was it practiced? Or was
she really as untouched as Anita claimed? Who had tortured whom?

He was in far too bad a mood to go to any sessions now. What
did he care about the latest trends in movie settings? It wasn’t like he would
care about product placements much longer. Back in his hotel room, Rob sat down
on his sofa, head in hands. What would he do with his life if the sale went
through? The fact that Professional Massage was sending spies down to Vegas meant
they were serious about buying. He had argued with Grandfather about the
proposed sale until he was forced to stop because he was worried about the old
man’s blood pressure. He had to let LeatherWorks go along with his fantasies
about Melanie Vanderpool. If there was one thing he detested in a woman, it was
dishonesty. He’d had a lifetime of that with his beautiful, drug-addled mother.
How many times had she told him she was clean, only to wake up one morning and
find that his grandfather had been forced to put her into another rehab
program?

Rob kicked off his suit, leaving it crumpled savagely on the
floor, pulled on his swimming trunks and headed for the pool. What would he be
doing with himself by the time the New Year came around? He was thirty-four, had
an accounting degree, job experience, good health. Remembering his earlier
conversation with Anita, he considered going back to school. Maybe he’d become
a writer. He certainly could attest to the fact that truth was often stranger
than fiction. His thoughts of career goals were banished by the sound of two
raised voices, a man and a woman.

Worried by the note of imminent attack in the man’s voice,
he was almost on top of the arguing pair before he recognized them.

“Rob!” A beautiful blond in a flower print mini bikini waved
frantically with her free arm.

Melanie. And practically naked too. Shit. In the grip of
Huntley, no less. “What the hell is wrong with you people?” Rob griped.

He broke Huntley’s grip on her arm. Thanks to Anita, he
would be able to end this now and get back to worrying about his future.
“Listen to me, asshole. She’s not who you think she is.”

Huntley pointed a skeletal finger at Rob. “You stay out of
this.” He waved a photograph in Rob’s face. “You can’t tell me this woman ain’t
Honey.”

Melanie grabbed the paper out of Huntley’s grip. Rob
couldn’t be sure, but Melanie seemed to pale in the bright August sunshine.
When he reached for the photograph, Melanie let it go without comment. Rob
studied it. If the young woman in the photograph wasn’t Melanie, it had to
be…Bombshell? He couldn’t believe his conservative former employee had ever fit
in with this motley crew. Obviously, his grandfather had never known.

“Look, Huntley,” Rob said, “she isn’t Honey Luscious. You
can ask Anita Press. She’ll tell you.”

“Not good enough,” Huntley snarled. “Why should I care what
some drug-addled hooker has to say?”

Rob clenched his hands into fists and started to pull one
back then stopped. What good would it do to punch the guy? “You have Anita so
wrong,” he said sadly. “You ruin these girls’ lives. They’re innocents until
people like you worm your way into their lives and prey on them.”

“Spare me your lectures,” Huntley jeered. “You’re no better
than the rest of us.”

Which was Grandfather’s point, Rob guessed. But he didn’t
believe it to be true. He sold a fantasy product. He didn’t put lives up for
sale.

“Rob?” Melanie said.

He looked at her. She took a deep breath and looked steadily
into his eyes. Rob held back a smile. He had to remember he was mad at her, but
it still felt good to see her again.

She asked, “What was it you said about a mole that Honey
Luscious had?”

He nodded. “She had one on her right hip.”

“Mr. Huntley,” Melanie turned to him. “If I was Honey
Luscious, I wouldn’t be ashamed to admit it. I’d even give you your devil’s due
if I really owed you money. But I’m not her.” She put one hand against the
front of her sunflower bikini bottom and pulled down the right side with her
other hand, showing one perfect tanned hip. Rob tried to evaluate it
clinically, simultaneously hoping his very unprofessional physical reaction
didn’t show in his baggy trunks. No mole, no scar. Mata Hari, he mumbled to
himself. Don’t let her seduce you. Finding out she wasn’t Honey Luscious only
resolved one of their issues.