Dream Girl (14 page)

In her front entrance, he stood close and put his hands lightly on her hips. “I'll call you tomorrow,” he said softly, looking down at her, his eyes warm and intent.

She nodded, unable to look away from him, and he bent his head. Her eyes fluttered shut as he gave her a long, slow, sexy kiss. When he lifted his head, his hands squeezed her hips gently, and then with a wave, he went out the door.

It might be the last time she ever saw him.

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Ashlyn's job interview Monday morning went surprisingly well, considering how distracted she'd been the last few days. When she wasn't thinking about Zach and his hands and his kisses, she was feeling guilty about her screw-up and trying to decide what to do. No—she knew what she had to do, she just didn't know when to do it. No, that wasn't right either. She knew she should do it now. She just couldn't bring herself to.

For one thing, she dreaded her father finding out. He would be pissed off. Majorly pissed off. But even more, she dreaded Zach learning the truth. Maybe if she just put it off a little longer, they could get to know each other better. She would break him into the idea of what she did in her part-time job, and it wouldn't be such a shock when he found out about the totally innocent mistake. She sighed. No. Now.

During a break between classes, Ashlyn phoned Farrell Investigations and spoke to Brenda. “I need Jessica Montgomery's number."

"Why?"

"I just do,” Ashlyn said.

There was a short pause before Brenda said, “Okay, I guess it's all right."

Ashlyn heard keys clicking on the keyboard and then Brenda said, “Home or office?"

"Both.” She jotted the numbers down and ended the call. She took a deep breath in and out; then she determinedly punched in Jessica's home phone number. As she'd expected, there was no answer, and voicemail picked up. She disconnected, not wanting to leave a message. Then she called the business number.

"Ambience Design.” A woman answered the phone.

"Could I speak to Jessica Montgomery, please?” Ashlyn closed her eyes, her stomach tight.

"I'm sorry, she's out of town. Can I take a message?"

"When will she be back?"

"She'll be back in the office next Monday. A week from today."

Shit.

"Is there any way I can reach her?” Ashlyn asked a little desperately.

"No, I'm sorry.” The woman's voice was polite but firm.

"I'm a friend of hers,” she tried. There was a pause.

"I'm sorry, she's gone on vacation, and she said she didn't want any calls."

Ashlyn sighed. “Okay. Thank you. I'll call back next week."

She went to her next class, adrenaline still pulsing in her veins, and she couldn't sit still. Relief expanded in her like a balloon, though she knew she still had to talk to Jessica, and she dreaded the thought of waiting another week. What else could she do? But there was also a happy little flutter inside her—for now, she could keep seeing Zach.

Later, she got a call from Brenda about another job, and she arranged to meet with the wife the next evening.

Zach called her that night. Talking to him was almost as much fun as being with him.

"Hey,” he said softly. “How was your day?"

"Um ... okay,” she answered nervously, trying to keep her voice steady.

"I had a hard time not thinking about you all day,” he confessed, his voice low and warm.

"Really?” Her body went soft and needy.

"Oh yeah. So have you learned anything from that computer stuff you did?"

"Oh. No.” She sank into a chair and rubbed her face. “I haven't had time to do anything. I was going to start tonight."

"Okay,” he said cheerfully. “I don't really understand it, but I'll let you do your job."

"Like I don't really understand beer and yeast,” she teased. “You were very impressive yesterday."

"Really?” His voice deepened. “That's good. How so?"

"You're so smart,” she said softly. “You know so much. And your brewery is huge."

"What did you expect? Me stirring a couple of five-gallon plastic pails of brew?"

She laughed. “I don't know. It was just ... impressive."

He laughed too. “You can show me how impressed you are the next time I see you. When will that be, by the way?"

"I'm ... not sure...” Where were they going with this? And was there any point? The truth would come out some time. It would be such a relief to just confess and get it over with, instead of having this weighty burden on her conscience. But she couldn't. She sighed.

"Tomorrow I'm busy with stuff for the Pooch Picnic,” Zach said. “Maybe Wednesday night?"

"Maybe,” she answered, not sure about this new job she'd just gotten.

"Okay.” He sounded disappointed. “I'll call you anyway. Maybe later in the week we'll get together."

"Okay."

She hung up, her mind a jumble of relief, confusion and guilt. She was playing a risky game here. Why was she doing this?

Zach hadn't seen Ashlyn since Sunday. He needed to see her. A run on the beach with Rocky hadn't been enough to burn off the restless energy.

He decided to drive over to her place and see what she was doing. Probably homework. Or maybe looking at the hard drives she'd copied and doing whatever she did to investigate them. Man, for a hot blonde, she must have a brain like Einstein to do what she did.

He rang the doorbell and waited. To his shock, a guy answered the door. Zach eyed him. Who the hell was this?

"Uh ... is Ashlyn home?” he asked.

The guy stared balefully back at him from behind butt-ugly black glasses. “You're Zach, aren't you?"

"Yup.” He waited. “Uh ... Ashlyn?"

The man scowled but let him in. “Yeah, she's home, but she's just going out."

"Oh.” Damn. He hadn't expected she'd be going out.

"Ashlyn!"

Zach eyed him. The guy wasn't as tall as Zach, kind of stocky, with sandy hair.

"What?” Her voice came from behind her closed bedroom door.

"You have a visitor."

The door opened, and Ashlyn came out.

Both men's jaws practically bounced off the floor.

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A black leather bustier plumped Ashlyn's breasts up and out, and a miniscule pair of black leather shorts exposed sleek legs made even longer by spike-heeled sandals.

"Jesus Christ,” Zach said under his breath as he nearly went into cardiac arrest. He glanced over at the other man and saw the look on his face. This guy, whoever he was, was hot for Ashlyn, too.

Zach's eyes returned to her. He wanted to throw a blanket over her.

She stopped in the hall, her mouth a round O of astonishment.

"Zach!” She let out a breathless little laugh. “What are you doing here?"

He wasn't sure if he actually had the ability to speak; he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before words came out. “I just stopped by to see you. I wanted to see you."

"Uh. Well ... um..."

"Where are you going, Ashlyn?” he asked softly, regaining his wits somewhat.

She looked at him in silence, clearly debating what to say. “Work?” she said weakly.

He shook his head. “You apparently have a job you haven't told me about."

He felt pressure building inside him. What the hell was going on here?

"It's not what you think."

"Maybe you could tell me what it is, then,” he suggested, his voice very soft, very controlled.

The other guy just stood watching all this, and Zach glared at him. He glared back.

Ashlyn noticed. “Uh. Zach, this is my roommate, Ben. Ben, this is Zach.” She waved a hand.

"I figured,” Ben said darkly, making no move to shake hands.

Oh. Roommate. Okay, so she had a male roommate. That was no big deal. Except this Ben looked pretty possessive of her.

"Come to my room,” Ashlyn said with resignation.

Zach followed her down the hall and into her bedroom. It was neat and tidy, except for a pile of clothes on a chair in the corner. A plain blue comforter covered the twin bed, and a desk with computer equipment occupied one whole wall. That kind of boggled his mind.

He shook his head and turned to her.

Blood pooled in his groin as he looked at her. The bustier pushed up her full, plump breasts, to the point that he was amazed her nipples weren't popping out. He dragged his eyes from her chest down to those legs. Sweet Jesus, her butt cheeks were showing, the shorts were so tiny.

Her hair hung silky and straight. But her face—holy shit. She had all this dark stuff around her eyes that made her look a little slutty, and her shiny red lips looked ready to be fucked.

"You have a job as a hooker?” he asked sharply, angry at the arousal he felt looking at her.

"Zach,” she said calmly. “Of course not."

"Then what the hell?” he asked, gesturing. “Or are you going out on a date?"

"Zach.” She sighed. “Okay, here's the deal.” She paused again. He could literally see her mind working, and then she gave another long exhalation. “I work as a ... um ... honey trapper.” He looked at her blankly. “A sex decoy,” she continued, licking her lips.

"
What!
” His mind was boggled.

"I work for my dad. One of the services Farrell Investigations offers is fidelity checks. Wives who think their husbands could be cheating on them hire us. I go and meet up with the guy somewhere, like it's by accident, and see if he comes on to me."

He stared at her incredulously.

She bit her lip. “I don't do anything,” she quickly assured him. “I just see if they try something. I tape it and give a report to the wife."

"It sounds dangerous,” he said slowly. “What if he tries something and you can't ... stop him."

"I always can,” she said confidently. “I'm always in a public place, and I make sure the office and Ben and Doug know exactly where I am."

"Ben and Doug?"

"My roommates."

"You have
two
male roommates?” he nearly shouted. “You never mentioned that."

"I didn't?” She blinked. “I guess I never thought it was worth mentioning.” She waved a hand. “It's no big deal. It's just Ben and Doug. Ben and I have been friends since middle school, and Doug is a friend of his from work."

"Ha,” he said. “Ben is nuts about you."

Her mouth dropped open. “He is not!"

"Oh, yeah, he is. But getting back to this job ... your dad knows about this?"

She laughed. “Of course! He hates it, but he gets lots of business. There are three of us that do this. And, I'm pretty good at it."

"Well, yeah, I guess so. Look at you.” He gestured. “What guy could resist? It is kind of not fair. Especially if you dress like that. Jesus."

Her cheeks grew a little pink, and she looked down at herself. “Oh. Well, I don't usually dress like this. Tonight, the guy I'm meeting up with supposedly hangs out at this fetish club. His wife wants to know if he does, and what he does there."

"Jesus,” he said again, almost stunned speechless. “You're going to some kink club? All alone? Dressed like that?"

She nodded, like she thought nothing of it. Her eyes were a little wary, though.

"Uh-uh,” Zach said firmly, shaking his head. “You are not going there."

"Zach, it's my job,” she said, just as firm. “I have to go."

"I'll go with you, then."

"You can't! I can't show up with a guy! I have to be alone!"

"I'll just watch from a distance. Just to make sure you're safe."

She sighed with exasperation. “I'll be safe,” she said. “Besides, you can't get in unless you dress appropriately."

He raised a brow, and she hastened to explain. “I mean, there's a dress code. I guess they don't want people just walking in off the street to gawk at all the pervs."

He groaned and rubbed his face. “We'll see,” he said. “But I'm coming."

Ashlyn and Zach stared stubbornly at each other for a long moment. “Oh, all right,” she groused. “But you have to stay away from me. Seriously."

He nodded and put a hand on the small of her back as they left her room.

Ben sat in the living room, still glowering as he flipped the pages of a
Maxim
.

"Zach's coming with me,” she announced, a little sulkily. “But just in case, the address is on my desk."

"He hates my guts,” Zach commented as he started his vehicle.

"Oh, he does not. That's ridiculous."

She apparently had no idea how Ben felt about her. Maybe that was just as well. Things could get a little uncomfortable, living together. He decided not to pursue that topic right then.

She told him the address, and a while later they pulled up outside an old warehouse downtown, a three-story brick building that could have been a brewery—except for the small neon sign in a dark window that said “Klub Kink."

They walked into a dimly-lit foyer, where a man sat at an antique desk. He was big, with a shaved bald head and an expressionless face.

He eyed Zach. “No admission unless you comply with the dress code,” he said sternly.

Zach sighed. “What is the dress code?"

The man handed him a sheet of paper with a lengthy list. “No street clothes. Rubber, leather, PVC, transparent, full uniform or totally over-the-top. Absolutely no fabric trousers or street wear,” he read.

The man jerked his head to a door on the right that said, “Men.” “Strip down to your underwear,” he said. “You can change in there."

Zach hesitated only briefly. Underwear. Well, hell. But then he'd never been afraid to make a fool of himself.

"Wait here,” he growled at Ashlyn.

The room resembled a plush locker room. He stripped down, keeping on his leather flip-flops and snug black boxer briefs. He stood there with his wallet in his hand. What the hell was he supposed to do with it?

He took it with him, hoping Ashlyn could put it in her purse.

She eyed him up and down when he came out, and he grinned. He pulled the price of two admissions out of his wallet.

"I already paid for me,” she whispered. “It's a ... business expense."

He paid for himself and handed her his wallet. She smiled and shoved it into her purse.