Wicked Proposition 565q9

Wicked Proposition By

Kimberly Zant ( c ) copyright by Madris DePasture writing as Kimberly Zant, May 2021 Cover art by Jenny Dixon, May 2021 ISBN 978-1-60394Smashwords Edition New Concepts Publishing Lake Park, GA 31636 www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

Charity gaped at her ex in shocked disbelief, trying to wrap her mind around what he’d just told her. The walls of the apartment hallway where she stood seemed to close in around her. She abruptly felt hot and then cold and dizzy. For several unnerving moments she thought she was going to out and measure her length on the filthy floor. Or maybe vomit. “You did what?” Mark, sporting a two day old beard and naked from the waist up, shrugged offhandedly, propped his left arm on the doorframe and leaned into it, giving her that thorough ‘trademark’ body scan with his laser blue gaze that seemed to see everything and appreciate everything he saw. How, she wondered vaguely, had she ever thought that was sexy? “I pawned it,” he repeated in the slow, gravelly drawl she’d once thought uber sexy. Charity blinked at him as he said it, still struggling to jumpstart her brain. It was no use. Shock had created chaos and her mind was a whirlwind of bits and pieces of memories that she couldn’t make any sense of. “You pawned the camcorder? My camcorder?” Mark’s expression turned sullen and ugly. “What’s the big deal? You left it. I needed a little cash. I pawned it.” Charity glanced at the view she had of Mark’s apartment from the open door, but she really didn’t take in the clutter of trash, dirty clothing, and dishes with uneaten food. Her gaze moved to the couch … where she and Mark had filmed their very own porn. Using the camcorder he’d just pawned.

Don’t fall apart! Don’t get ugly! Be nice. Sugar always works better! It damned sure wasn’t safe to ask him if the freaking porn movie they’d made was still in the damned thing! He hadn’t posted it online and she thought that might mean that it had slipped his mind. Like it had hers in the heat of the moment when they’d both been slinging some really ugly ‘truths’ at one another just before she’d stormed out and left. He’d been pretty stoned at the time, after all. He was generally pretty stoned—or ‘lit/buzzed’–or both. She managed a faint smile even though she mostly just felt like throwing up. It was her damned camera! It irked her to have to beg for mercy from the bastard when the damned thief had known it was hers and sold it anyway. “Well,” she said after frantically searching her mind for a solution to her problem, “I guess you don’t really want it yourself or you wouldn’t have pawned it? I don’t suppose I could talk you in to letting me have the ticket? I had a project in mind ….” Mark stared at her a long moment and then grinned evilly. “I don’t know what I did with the ticket, but I’m sure it’s too late to get it anyway. They would’ve put it up for sale by now.” Charity felt the blood rush from her head. She had no idea what she said after that or if she said anything at all. She had no clear idea of how she got downstairs. It wasn’t until she was halfway across the parking lot and a car horn blared, nearly making her leap out of her skin, that she came out of her shocked stupor. “Hey! Watch it, you stupid bitch!” the driver, a woman, bellowed at her. The bitch that had nearly run her down, scared the living shit out of her by blaring the horn right beside her, and then called her a stupid bitch was gone before Charity emerged sufficiently from her fright to feel the beginnings of resentment and anger. She’d completely disappeared before Charity had time to think of a suitable comeback.

“Bitch,” she muttered under her breath as she stalked to her car and got in. Unfortunately, she was still too upset to think rationally. What now? What could she do? Was there anything that could be done? Or was it time to accept the thing she couldn’t change? She almost did throw up that time. Dropping her head to the steering wheel, she closed her eyes and struggled to focus on nothing until she could calm herself sufficiently to think. Images kept flickering to life in her mind—some real, some fantasy—like cutting the bastard’s dick off and choking him with it. She swallowed with an effort. She’d always hated people that blamed everyone else but themselves for the situations they’d put themselves in. It just added insult to injury for people to refuse to be able for their actions. Sure, it wasn’t entirely her fault. He’d talked her in to it to start with. But she’d agreed to it and she certainly hadn’t had to. It wasn’t as if he’d secretly recorded their sex movie. She should have destroyed it as soon as they’d watched it, but no! Like a moron she’d let him talk her into keeping it so they could watch it a few more times. And then—life. It wasn’t as if she’d forgotten about it. She just hadn’t felt threatened enough when it danced into her memory to hunt it down and destroy it. Oh! She felt like kicking herself! That wasn’t going to help anything and neither would heading back to her apartment and hiding. She knew the pawn shop Mark had used before. It might not help, but it couldn’t hurt to go there and see if the camera was still there.

Excitement instantly shot through her, but she struggled to contain the hope that surged through her in a dizzying rush. It was a long shot, she told herself—worth the attempt—but unlikely to yield the desired results. No sense in getting her hopes up. * * * * John had wrestled long and hard with the urge that had been building in him since he’d bought the camcorder from the pawn shop. He felt like a man possessed. And he didn’t like that view of himself. But he still couldn’t tear his mind from the thoughts and images that had him burning feverishly. For forbidden fruit. A woman who belonged to another man. Which was ridiculous. It wasn’t as if he didn’t get laid pretty much any time he felt the need. Except he was pretty damned sure it was the size of his bank that really turned them on. Ordinarily, that didn’t particularly bother him. He told himself it didn’t bother him now. Except … he couldn’t actually recall being the recipient of anything like that. So he’d cooked up this lie—to himself—that he was just being a good Samaritan. He was trying to return something that he should return, that he had no business having. Even though it wasn’t by his design that he had something he ought not. He couldn’t bring himself to destroy it, though. And if he did that, she would never have peace of mind he told himself.

Of course, he was assuming that it would bother her and he didn’t know her at all so he couldn’t know whether it would or not. It was enough that it might. He was ethically obligated to do what he could to soothe her fears that it was floating around and anyone could look at it. Not that anyone had—except him—about a thousand times now. But she sure as hell didn’t need to know that! He wasn’t sure if he just desperately wanted to unload it—in the right hands—or if he just desperately wanted to see her in the flesh. Not that he believed there was a chance in hell that he would be able to track her down—short of hiring a private detective—but it had seemed like it was worth a shot. And then he ran smack into her, literally, in the doorway of the pawn shop he’d returned to to see if he could convince the proprietor to give him the name and address of the person who’d pawned the camera. Of course the bastard had played coy—as if he didn’t have a clue. But then, maybe he’d never really expected to get the information so simply. Maybe he’d thought all along that hanging around the pawn shop would bring her to him—if he waited long enough or managed to go back at just at the right time? He thought he would’ve known her anywhere—despite the low quality of the images shot in virtual darkness. But he didn’t have to debate the matter. Her gaze went to the camcorder and stayed, as if her eyeballs been glued to it. She didn’t seem to realize that she’d stopped as abruptly as if she’d been turned to stone. It gave him the opportunity to study her.

Unfortunately, although his mind recorded many things for later consideration, he was nearly as shocked as she was and in no condition to make rational observations. She was prettier than he’d thought—and he’d thought she was beautiful. Of course, most of his attention had been focused below the neck when he’d watched the home porn. One troubling thing did stick in his mind, though. She didn’t look like someone desperate enough for money to sell the camcorder without taking the chip out first. * * * * Charity stared at the camera, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her. It looked like hers, but there were probably a million just like it out there. Except hers had a tiny ding on the side. Which she couldn’t see because of the way he was holding it. Which was when she finally realized that she’d been frozen, staring at it, for plenty long enough to make it obvious she was staring at it. Dragging her gaze from the camera, she looked up finally at the man holding it and felt a jolt run through her. It wasn’t just that he was handsome. She only vaguely ed that he was, and also that he was unusually tall—maybe a foot taller than her five foot five. Or maybe he just seemed way tall because he was built like a line-backer? It was the look his eyes that turned her to stone, though, that obliterated all mental capacity. Desire. Recognition. She felt her face heating up with discomfort.

In vain, she struggled to find something to say, anything, to delay him until she could gather her wits and figure out how to get that damned camcorder away from him! He frowned after a moment, after she’d stared at him mutely for long enough to make both of them uncomfortable. “Do you mind?” someone said with a bite of sarcasm. It broke the spell. Charity whipped a look around and discovered she and the stranger were blocking the door to the pawn shop—and some nasty person was rude enough to suggest they get out of the way. “Hey! Do I know you?” she babbled on sudden inspiration. “You look familiar,” the stranger said at almost the same moment as he settled a hand on her arm and gently guided her away from the doorway.

Chapter Two

Ordinarily, the move the stranger made might have unnerved Charity. Well, it did to an extent, but she ignored all the warning bells. He had her camcorder! She had to get it back. Images rose in her mind of snatching it and racing off … and being tackled and then carted off to jail for camera snatching. And the camcorder in evidence …. She forced a smile, shoving to the back of her mind the fear that she looked familiar to him because he’d watched that twice damned home porn video! Surely to god she wasn’t actually recognizable! She hadn’t thought so and she’d watched it herself—a number of times. “We must have … well, if I think you look familiar and you think I do, then we must have met sometime or other?” she managed to say after a few moments. He stared down at her a long moment and finally lifted his head and looked around … as if he was looking for a place to drag her off …. “Why don’t we have a cup of coffee over there and see if we can jog our memories?” the stranger suggested. “Unless you’re in a hurry?” Just late for work, but what the hell? This situation was life-altering enough to take precedence. Hopefully, she wasn’t going to lose her job over it. And if she did, she at least had a decent chance of getting another one. Being ‘discovered’ on the internet and having to become a recluse or change her identity seemed a lot more drastic than she wanted to try to handle. It was at least a relief that he didn’t seem to have it in mind to drag her into a

back alley for rape and murder. And if she could keep him talking she might be able to figure out how to get the damned thing …. “No. My day off. Sure … if you don’t need to be somewhere?” He lifted his wrist and glanced at his watch, drawing Charity’s attention to it and making her heart skip a few beats. It was a nice watch. She was no true judge, but she thought it looked expensive. She was far more interested, however, in the fact that he was wearing a watch at all—and it was definitely just a watch. Dare she hope that meant he was technologically backwards enough that he wouldn’t be able to figure the camera out right away? Would it give her time to retrieve it? It wasn’t as if it came with instructions from the pawn shop. “I’ve got an appointment this afternoon, but I’ve got time for a cup of coffee.” They ordered and found a little privacy in a corner booth. He set the camera down in the center of the table, instantly riveting her attention, but she couldn’t tell just by looking at the view she had if it was hers or not. If it was hers, the dent was on the other side. “So,” the stranger said, “You figured out, yet, where we might have run into one another?” Charity smiled with an effort and then shrugged. “No. Maybe it was just one of those déjà vu things?” His dark brows rose with skepticism, but he smiled. Oh! He had a smile that made her kegels clap! “You ‘in’ to that sort of thing?” he asked, his voice a teasing caress that so distracted Charity after that seductive smile that it took her a moment to figure out what he was asking.

“What? The paranormal? Only on dark nights when I’m completely alone and the walls creak.” He chuckled, then reached across the table, offering a hand. “I’m John Fair … lain.” Charity noticed that he stumbled a little over his last name but absently. It didn’t occur to her, then, that there might be any significance to that little hitch in his speech, but she was distracted and she was inclined to accept people at face value. Unfortunately. She’d just never found a need to lie to impress—well for any reason except selfpreservation. It wasn’t that she was gullible. She just wasn’t looking for lies in others. Smiling, she reached to grasp his hand for a brief ‘hello’ shake. “Charity Chism.” He looked a little taken aback at that. “Charity?” Charity felt her face reddening. “My mom was … kind of a romantic, I guess. She liked it because it was old fashioned.” To her surprise, she saw a faint color rise in his cheeks. “Ah,” he responded, shifting a little uncomfortably in his seat. “So … what do you do for a living? And after that, what for fun? Married? Single? Looking?” Charity was torn between annoyance and amusement. “Your turn,” she said pointedly instead of answering the inquisition, lifting her cup to take a sip of her coffee. Annoyance flickered across his face and vanished. “Oh! Well if you insist on playing fair—I’m in … sales. Single. Not really looking. Main hobby— woodworking, when I have the time. And I read thrillers for entertainment.” Charity held up a hand in a halt motion, laughing. “You aren’t even going to make me work for it?”

Not if it was going to slow things down. “No. Now that that’s out of the way ….” Charity chuckled. Despite his unwillingness to elaborate, it was so enjoyable to sit across from a man willing, and able, to string words together in a conversation that she was thoroughly charmed. “I’m in sales, too—what a small world! Single ….” She paused and shrugged. “Not looking at the moment. I read … well all sorts of things when I have the time. Which isn’t often. I hate starting a book and then not being able to get back to it. Main hobby—knitting when I have the time.” He shook his head at her, but he was smiling. “I see how you are.” “And how’s that?” “Tit for tat.” She laughed. She liked this game. It was a damned shame she couldn’t have met anyone like him under better circumstances. “So … why aren’t you looking at the moment?” That soured her mood right off, bringing her mind back to the reason she’d sat down for coffee to start with him. She hesitated, trying to think of a comeback that wouldn’t further dampen the mood. He was clearly observant enough to see the question had brought her down. “That’s ok. Sorry I asked. Been there, done that.” She managed a smile. “That’s ok. I’m just … reassessing my judgment. Adjusting my … stinker radar.” “Ouch!” The attempt to lighten the mood crashed. Charity struggled to think of some way to turn the tides again. “What do you make when you do the woodworking thing?”

He shrugged. “Furniture.” Charity was surprised and fascinated. “Seriously? That is so cool! I’d love to be able to do that! Beat the hell out of searching the trash pile for discards.” Her face heated up to bright red when she realized what she’d said. “I was joking.” He pretended deafness—thankfully. “Well, I’d invite you to my place to see some of my work, but ….” Charity grimaced. “I fell into that, didn’t I? Well, I’d love to, but maybe it isn’t such a good idea when we just met.” She hesitated. “What’s the camera for, anyway? I mean, if woodworking is your hobby?” “Main hobby—which I rarely have time for anymore. I thought I might try my hand at photography.” Charity felt her face heat with embarrassment all over again, mostly because the comment brought up her predicament. She hesitated. “You mind if I look at it?” “Go ahead.” Charity’s hand was shaking when she reached across to pick the camera up. She knew, just knew, even before she turned it over that it definitely was her camera.

“It’s mine!” she gasped the moment she saw the indisputable truth. “Was, you mean.” Charity’s head jerked upward when he spoke, her face feeling as if it was going to catch fire with the heat that surged into her cheeks. She studied him, struggling to throw off her shock and embarrassment and present a façade that stood a better chance of gaining what she wanted. The best she could manage was a halfhearted chuckle. That sounded more like a cat being strangled than a sound of amusement.

“That’s what I mean,” she managed and then added, “I was actually there to retrieve it. I’d wondered ….” “Ah.” No opening there. “I don’t suppose I could talk you in to selling it back to me? I mean, I’ve got the money. I was going to pay the pawnshop and collect it.” He studied her speculatively for several moments, considering the offer, she hoped. Finally, he shrugged. “I’ll think about it. I was really looking forward to trying it out.” Disappointment and anxiety flooded Charity, making it difficult to think of anything useful she could say. He had at least given her some hope, though, that he would sell it back to her and she couldn’t blow up and show her ass and lose that tiny hope! Showing her ass flickered through her mind because of her disappointment, but she couldn’t rouse enough resentment to forget her manners. They were in a public place! Aside from the fact that guilt was weighing her down because she knew she’d gotten herself into the mess she was in, her upbringing had imprinted on her that one did not behave badly in public and make a scene. “Well,” she managed finally, “I know the camera. I could show you how to use it … give you a few tips since I have some experience?” He looked like he was vaguely insulted at the suggestion that he needed her to figure it out. She thought for several moments that he was going to dismiss her suggestion out of hand, but apparently he was interested enough that he decided to tamp his annoyance. He glanced at his watch again and uttered a huff of breath, looking irritated. “Not today, unfortunately, though I’d like to take you up on the offer. When do you think we could get together on it? And where?” Charity gaped at him. She’d made the suggestion on impulse. She had no idea where and when and she struggled to change gears and recall her work schedule. “I tell you what …. Just give me your number and I’ll give you a call and we can work it out. I have to go. I’m late for my appointment now.”

The pressure of his imminent departure and the disappearance of her last hope jogged Charity into giving him her number without stopping to consider whether she should or not. That came later, after he’d disappeared out the door of the coffee shop. She should have gotten his number, she thought in despair. Then she could have called him. Now she would have no way to find him again if he didn’t call! She didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing that it didn’t occur to her to try to follow him until the situation was beyond her ability to fuck things up worse.

Chapter Three

John was in a state of chaos. He realized he hadn’t really thought he would get anywhere by going to the pawn shop, certainly hadn’t expected to run into her. Charity. He liked that name. It sounded so …. Wholesome. She looked wholesome. And yet …. Which, he supposed, was part of the reason he was in a state of chaos. She was nothing like he’d thought, at least in the back of his mind, that she would be. And he couldn’t decide whether he was glad or very, very sad. Disturbed pretty well defined it. Unaccustomedly rattled. He was surprised he’d managed to gather his wits enough to act like he had some. At least, he thought he had. She’d gone with him for coffee. So he supposed he had managed some polish and hadn’t come across as a dork, or worse, a stalker—even though he’d felt like both—as awkward as a teen on their first date. Or what he expected they might feel like.

He hadn’t felt awkward or nervous around women even when he was a teen. He frowned, realizing after a few moments that she’d been in a ‘state’ herself and he was no longer certain that it had had anything to do with him at all beyond the fact that he was holding her camera. That was a new and not totally welcome reception. Actually, not welcome at all. Better than having his wallet sized up, he supposed …. He didn’t hear a damned word of what was said at his meeting—and thus recalled nothing that had been settled, or even if anything had been. Distracted didn’t begin to describe his condition but, fortunately, his assistant had attended with him and she always made meticulous notes. He didn’t concern himself with how his appointment had felt about his abstraction. He wasn’t particularly thrilled with the deal to start with. He was far more focused on his delight over the accidental meeting and the coffee ‘date’ that followed that had ramped up his sense of anticipation. He studied the note with her phone number on it until he’d memorized it before he shoved it into his pocket. It was burning a hole in it. Still, he was wary enough that he contained his impatience until a minimum of two days had ed. No more. He didn’t want her to get the idea that he had no interest. He just didn’t want her to think he was desperate. But it felt an awful lot like that. * * * *

Charity was so relieved when he finally called she felt borderline hysterical. It was all she could do to contain herself while they waded through the formalities. “John … uh … Fairmont. Sorry I didn’t get back with you sooner.” As distressed as Charity was, she still zeroed in on the inconsistency. “Fairmont? I thought you said Fairlain?” That gave John a bad moment. He couldn’t recall to save his ass—anything but how nice her boobs had looked in the blouse she’d been wearing. And what they looked like when she wasn’t wearing anything at all. “Did I?’ he said in a strangled voice. “Must have been a brain … uh … aneurism. Fairmont. Definitely Fairmont, but you might as well just call me John. I just called to see if we could set up a time and place to meet to practice photography.” Great timing! She’d lost her job because she’d been an hour late arriving and hadn’t called. And then she hadn’t heard from him so she’d spent the time since job hunting—because she needed to get one really fast if she didn’t want to have to fall back on her pathetic savings. “How about next weekend?” John’s belly knotted with what felt a lot like severe disappointment. “This weekend?” “Can’t.” She hesitated, but she didn’t see any point in lying and she didn’t want to have to keep up with it. “I got fired—because I was late for my shift and my boss is a bitch. So I’ve been job hunting and, thankfully, landed one. I’m going to be tied up with training until next weekend.” “Damn! I’m sorry about that. My fault.” “No! You didn’t drag me to the coffee shop. It was my own damned fault— which totally sucks because it’s really hard to kick your own ass. On the bright side, I found a new job and I’ve already done orientation—this weekend training and then I’ll be on probation for a couple of weeks. So I have to tread the straight and narrow ….” He didn’t respond and she thought back over what she’d said. “Sorry. I enjoyed

meeting you. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I didn’t.” “No—you just made me feel guilty as hell for … distracting you.” She chuckled. “I wasn’t trying to. I think I was already distracted. Can you make it next weekend?” “Sure!” He didn’t have a fucking clue of what might be on his schedule, but he could change it if he needed to. “Where?” “I don’t know how familiar you are with this area, but there’s a park not far from the coffee shop. We could meet say … tenish? And that would be a great place to get some shots. Or, if the weather’s bad, we could meet at the coffee shop.” “It’s a date, then.” A long ass time to wait, John thought irritably, but he couldn’t think of anything he could do to shorten it. A long ass time to wait, Charity thought, feeling vaguely ill, hoping he wouldn’t decide to check out the camera and find the damned porn before she could meet him. “Unfortunately, life marches on,” she muttered, “one disaster at the time, or a bunch at once.” * * * * Charity was so ready to meet she was sick with nerves when she got to the meeting place—fifteen minutes early. She was a little shocked and outdone that John beat her there—because she didn’t have time to come to grips. She’d forgotten how good looking he was. It hit her like a ton of bricks when he came up to her. It was hard to why she’d arranged the meeting. Thankfully, he prompted her by displaying the camera. “I found a bench ….” She nodded and allowed him to lead her to it.

It was very exposed, for which she was grateful. She couldn’t decide if he was just that courteous and cognizant of her vulnerability or if he was working that hard to convince her he was harmless. She doubted he was totally harmless, although he certainly seemed very good natured and upbeat and not at all awkward or uncomfortable. And that made her comfortable being around him and less worried that he might be dangerous in a predatory way. She thought he might be very dangerous to her heart, though. She dismissed it. There was no arguing he had a powerful affect on her, but she thought it would be best just to handle her business and be on her way. If she allowed herself to get too wrapped up in the attraction she was liable to find herself in a worse mess. Although, how it could possibly get worse …. She was jittery enough, though, that her hands were shaking so badly she could hardly get the port open when she finally got her hands on the camera. “We need to put a new card in first. I got one ….” “Here,” he said, taking the camera from her. “You look a little shaky. I don’t want it to get broken when I haven’t used it yet.” He took the old card out, seemed to debate briefly, and then shoved it into his pocket. “I can check out your talent later.” Charity gaped at him in horror, trying to wrap her mind around that when she’d thought she was on the verge of rescuing the twice damned card. “What?” “Your photography.” It was really hard to manage reason under the circumstances, but she was finally able to shake a thought out. “Oh.” She considered it for a moment. “It probably isn’t any good. It’s been there for … ages.” He shrugged, but he didn’t meet her gaze. “Guess I’ll see.”

She struggled with the urge to ask if she could buy it, uneasy about displaying too much interest. She forced a laugh. “Oh. It’s probably horrible. I guess I can’t convince you to … uh … trade?” “Trade what?” She gaped at him. “The new one I just bought.” “Oh. Well I have one. I doubt I’ll fill this one up.” Knowing that she was going to give away her desperation if she kept bugging him for it, Charity forced herself to focus on the camera. She pointed out and explained the various features and what all the buttons were for, giving him tips on holding it steady, lighting, etc. By the time she’d finished, she’d gathered her wits a little. She was just going through the motions, though, felt a lot more like a zombie than a living, breathing, brain functioning human. She managed to relax after watching him for a bit, and looking at some of his first efforts. She contained her desperation until they were about to go their separate ways, but she found she just couldn’t keep her mouth shut and watch him walk off with it. “Say … I’d like to get that old card, if I could. You were talking about a trade? Maybe we could play for it?” John studied her, struggling with his conscience. Unfortunately for her, that had taken a back seat—like way back on the bus. He wanted to get hold of her so bad he could taste it—but not if it led to a really ugly court date with him in the role of villain. It was her mistake. She could fix it. He saw no reason to feel guilty about a mess she’d gotten herself in to, particularly when he had no ‘evil’ plans for it—beyond watching it again. And he damned sure wasn’t going to pay for her mistake by letting her put him in jail. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “What did you have in mind?” “Do you play cards?”

“I have,” he responded cautiously. “Not for a while. I imagine I’m pretty rusty.” She chuckled. “Well, I don’t have that much experience so maybe we’ll be pretty well matched. I was thinking poker? Best two out of three wins?” “Hmm. What would my prize be if I won? I mean, I already own the card, so that wouldn’t work.” She felt her face turn red. Her ex had taught her the game. They played strip poker and the objective was always to see who got naked first and it always ended in sex. But she wasn’t about to offer that when she’d just met the guy! Anyway, she didn’t see that the game would be different—just the wager. She didn’t have to feign disappointment. “Oh. Well, I don’t know. What do you think you’d like to wager against it?” He frowned for some minutes, thinking. “I don’t know, but I’ll give it some thought.”

Chapter Four

That didn’t actually sound like a lot of enthusiasm for her plan, Charity thought, feeling her hopes plummet. The damn thing was right there—in his pants pocket! If she could’ve wrestled him to the ground and taken it, she would’ve. But she didn’t see a chance in hell of getting it out of his pocket …. Unless he took his pants off. No! Don’t go there! You aren’t that desperate. But I am, she whined to herself. And he seemed interested in her. And she definitely thought he was hot. And she still didn’t think she could do it when she’d just met him. “Hey! If you have some free time, maybe we could play one hand … today? Maybe a sort of practice round to see if it would actually be a challenge?” John checked his watch. It wasn’t that he had anywhere to be. At least, he didn’t think so, but she’d pretty well blown his mind, and he was having a really hard time focusing on anything beyond the visions dancing in his head.

If he actually did have someone to meet, well fuck it! “Sure. My place or yours?” A jolt went through her when he actually took her up on it. Faced with the actuality of it, she felt downright faint. Taking him to her place definitely seemed like a bad idea, though, because then he’d know where she lived. Well, ditto his place, because if he was a serial killer …. On the other hand, she almost thought it was worth the risk. She was going to have a nervous breakdown if she didn’t get that damned memory card! “Where’s your place?” she asked a little weakly. “Roughly two blocks that way,” he said promptly. “Ok, that’s closer than mine,” she lied. “Let’s go there.” * * * * Charity spent most of the walk to John’s apartment chatting very gaily about anything that came to mind while she tried to figure out her next move, how to go about separating John from his pants and her memory card. Only one possibility came to mind. It wasn’t for lack of trying to figure something else out. And it wasn’t because she was just that hot for him. Well, she was—she did find him very attractive—but, if not for her dilemma she would have been perfectly happy to let nature take its course. She was no seductress and the very thought of trying it was enough to scare the hell out of her—not the sex part, the sneaking around to steal the chip back part. She couldn’t make it happen. If it did—well, she hoped she’d be in a state of mind to pounce on the opportunity, but that was a big maybe considering all of the circumstances—the main one being they hardly knew each other. More importantly, she supposed,

she hardly knew him. She doubted it would bother him if she was a total stranger. She was so unnerved about being in his apartment she couldn’t focus on the game well enough to win. She honestly didn’t know how she managed it—unless he was a really bad player. Unfortunately, she didn’t really relax and gather her wits until they’d finished the game. He looked a little outdone that she’d won and that boosted her confidence considerably. Her ex had told her she was good at it and she knew she was better than him because she won way more often than he did—and he definitely didn’t let her win. John blew out an impatient breath. “Well,” he said wryly, “I thought I might be a little rusty. I’m thinking that was an understatement.” She chuckled. “At least I didn’t beat the pants off of you!” she said jokingly and then ed she’d been wrestling with that very thing all the way to his place. She felt her face heat. He was polite enough to pretend he didn’t notice. “To the good, I have an idea of something I’d like to play for. Let me ask you first, though, when your next free weekend is.” Something about his body language made her a tiny bit uneasy, but she dismissed it. She wasn’t going to be calm until she got that damned chip! Thankfully, she had weekends off on her new job. Anyway, she’d just proven, to herself, that she really didn’t have anything to worry about. Even distracted she’d managed to beat him. Really distracted! She lifted her brows questioningly. “I get weekends off,” she responded. “What is it?”

He grimaced. “I got sucked into a taking this cruise ….” She frowned. “A cruise?” she echoed, wondering what, exactly, he had in mind. She managed a half laugh. “Most people wouldn’t consider that a bad thing.” He shrugged. “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t either. I told you I was single, right? Well, I have to go—it’s business and I can’t back out of it or I’ll lose a really important … uh … deal. But if I show up alone, they’re going to try to fix me up and I can’t really afford the distraction. Besides the annoyance factor.” She thought about it. She’d been ‘fixed up’. It usually turned out bad to horrible. “Yeah. Been there, done that. I know what you mean, but I still … I’m still confused here.” “If I win, you come with me—it’s just one night on the ship—or boat—and then back to shore and you’ll get the chance to relax and get ready for the next work day.” She gaped at him, struggling with the excitement of actually getting to take a cruise! Even a short one! With an effort, she tamped it. “What would I have to do?” “Nothing. I’d introduce you as my girlfriend and then you could pretty much just do what you want while I focus on business.” She frowned, turning that over—with more than a little suspicion. “Where would I sleep? You said it was overnight.” He shrugged easily. “My room—of course. They’d expect that. But the key word is sleep. It’s a suite, so I’d take the couch. We’d have to share the suite. No way I’m going to try to sleep on a chaise on deck.” OMG! A suite? On a cruise ship? He must be a big time salesman if he got to do stuff like that! She’d been employee of the month several times and all she’d gotten was a parking spot— for a month. “And that’s it? You wouldn’t expect … uh … you know.”

“Absolutely not,” he lied through his teeth. “Now, I might put my arm around you. You can’t expect them to believe you’re my girlfriend and stay at arm’s length. And I do want them to believe.” He’d probably want more, she thought. And she was attracted to him. She didn’t think he’d have too much trouble being convinced to take it a little further—maybe all the way—but she didn’t want him thinking she was easy and that he could expect it. On the other hand, she might have to get really, really chummy if he won and she ended up on the cruise, because she still needed to get her hands on the card. She really didn’t want to think about losing—as interesting as the cruise sounded. All she could do was her best, though. “Ok,” she said. “It’s a deal. If I win, I get that memory card.” “If I win I have a date for the weekend so I don’t look like a dork.” Charity laughed. “You are no dork! Anybody that thought you were would have to be a total idiot!” “So … we’re on?” “Yeah. Now we just have to settle time and place.” He glanced at his watch. “No wonder I’m starving. What about you?” She blinked at him, wondering if that was an invitation. “My treat,” he said, smiling. OMG! He was buying! “Oh. Well … uh … we can go Dutch.” He frowned. “I’d rather not. You aren’t going to turn me down because I want to pay, are you?” ‘Guys that spend money on a woman always figure they’re paying for

something. So be damned sure you don’t mind the currency before you agree to something like that,’ her mom always said. He’d said he was fine with being single. So should she take that to mean he had no interest in buying the cow? He just wanted a little milk? Probably, she thought. On the other hand, she wasn’t totally against giving him a little milk—especially if it made it easy to get that damned card. She hadn’t seen anything about him, so far, that turned her off the idea and a whole lot that turned her onto it. “Ok,” she said finally. “I’m starved, too.” “Great! If it isn’t too late when we get done, maybe we could come back here for game one.” Her belly did a shimmy at the suggestion. She smiled at him a little weakly. “Guess we’ll see.” He took her to a nice restaurant and didn’t even look pissed off when he saw the prices. Charity was uneasy about it, but he’d picked the restaurant. And she still didn’t feel right about it—on several levels. It felt like taking advantage of the guy for one. Secondly, there was the ‘pay up’ factor to worry about. She didn’t believe he was like that, but one could never tell and even though she wasn’t totally against having sex, she wanted it to be about mutual attraction—or maybe a diversion to get her hands on the porn—not payment. If she’d been a better judge of male character, she wouldn’t be in the predicament she was in, after all. Because she probably wouldn’t have broke up with her boyfriend and Mark would’ve talked her into doing more home porns. “This looks … uh … really expensive. Maybe we should just go somewhere else?” His smile looked a little strained to her. “I can afford it,” he muttered.

She felt bad, awkward, realizing she’d unintentionally insulted him. She thought. “Well, I didn’t say you couldn’t—or mean to imply that. I was just saying …. I mean it’s just one meal. Think of all the starving children,” she said. He looked at her blankly and she felt her face redden. “My mom always said that if I was wasteful,” she muttered and it definitely seemed wasteful to spend so much money on one meal. “Are you uncomfortable?” he asked after a moment. Excruciatingly. “No! I’m good. Sorry. I just …. Sorry! Anyway ….” She searched her mind for something she could talk about as a distraction. “Soooo … what’s this big deal you have to land on the cruise?” He stared at her blankly. She held up a hand. “Never mind. I was just trying to make conversation. Not trying to be nosey.” “It’s a contract for the company. How are you liking that new job?” She chuckled wryly, relieved that he’d redirected the conversation—because she’d felt like she was just digging a deeper and deeper hole for herself. “So far it blows.” He laughed. “Really?” “Oh, you know. They always put you through the ringer when you first start. Hopefully, by next month it won’t suck nearly as bad.” “That doesn’t exactly sound promising,” he murmured, sounding disapproving, she thought. “Why did you take the job if you didn’t like it?” “Well—rent. Otherwise I’d have to start dipping into my puny savings and I’m really trying to save up for a car. It would totally suck to have to use it for rent when I’ve been walking to work to save the money, if you know what I mean.”

Discomfort wafted through him. He didn’t, actually. “Ah. Now I really feel like shit for making you lose the old job.” She laughed. “Don’t. It sucked worse, actually. I just couldn’t bring myself to quit because I really hate job hunting. Begging wounds my pride. And it’s hard not to feel like you’re begging when you’re out trying to get a job.” Despite getting off to a fairly rough start, they both, she thought, managed to enjoy the ‘date’, but it was way too late when they finished up for another game. They set a time for the next contest and he insisted upon walking her back to the apartment building where she lived if not to her apartment door. She was tempted to pretend she lived somewhere else, but she had a real bad feeling he would insist on watching until she was inside. Turned out, she’d pegged him. He refused to leave until she was safely inside. It was really sweet. He was sweet. And handsome. And smart. It totally sucked that she was in the mess she was in. She had a bad feeling that this thing just wasn’t going to turn out well—at all.

Chapter Five

John won the first game. Charity was disappointed, to say the least, but not totally dejected about it. She didn’t lose by much. And when they met the following day, she won—also not by a huge margin. But a win was a win and it was one to one. John wanted to take a break and go out to eat. She wanted that last hand. Reluctantly, she let him take her out to eat. He chose a more modest restaurant that time and Charity was a lot more comfortable even though she was wound tight about that last, deciding game. Then they went back to his place where she lost the final hand in about two seconds flat. Not really, but so fast and so badly she was stunned. “Don’t look so stepped on,” he murmured. “You get to go on a cruise, anyway. That isn’t a total loss is it?” She managed to smile. She hoped it didn’t look as strained as it felt. It wasn’t as if she was completely opposed to the idea of a weekend with him—especially on a cruise when he wasn’t expecting her to pay on her back. But she was sick with worry about that damned memory card. “When is it, anyway? Did you find out yet?” “Next weekend.” “Holy cow! Really?” “Yeah. Good thing, too. If it had been this weekend I’d have been totally out of luck.”

She forced a smile. “Ok. Well, I guess I lost fair and square. I should … get the details from you and see what I can find to pack.” “Pack light. It’s just one night.” She chuckled with real amusement that time. “You say that because you aren’t a girl.” “Not the last time I looked. No.” “Well, I need a little more … uh … stuff.” John’s heart sank. If it was that time of the month, he was going to be seriously pissed off and disappointed. He wanted to ask in the worse kind of way, but she was … not really innocent, he supposed, and not really prudish—not when he considered what had led him to her. She was clearly a little of both, though, and maybe because she wasn’t completely comfortable with him yet, and maybe not. In any case, he knew better than to ask. Of course, he’d assured her that he didn’t expect sex. And he didn’t expect it. But he was ever so hopeful. * * * * John picked Charity up in a taxi outside her apartment building early Saturday morning. He’d debated whether to drive himself, but, in the end, he decided he didn’t want her to see his car. It would be a dead giveaway that he had more money than she clearly believed he did. And, it might not have been clear sailing thus far in his pursuit of her, but it could get way nasty in a big damn hurry if he didn’t watch himself. He hadn’t actually expected he would have to. Which made it clear as a bell that he hadn’t had his mind with him at the time—

any of the time right up until the ‘wakeup call’ when she’d gotten so uneasy about his choice of restaurant. He hadn’t set out to lie to her, though—not about that—and he was in way too deep before it occurred to him that she had no clue about him. None. So, basically what it boiled down to was that he’d screwed himself up as badly as she’d screwed herself up. Well, maybe not that bad. Certainly not in that way. But still badly. She seemed … tense, but excited—he thought, hoped. He knew it wasn’t for the same reason he was tense and excited, but if it was about the cruise that was still good. It might earn points for him in the good column. Or, maybe not. He had opportunity now that he’d convinced her to ‘pretend’ she was his girlfriend to take all sorts of liberties—short of the one he really wanted—and he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to behave himself for the whole, entire weekend. In fact, he didn’t plan to. If there was any way in hell he could manage to get in at least a little groping, maybe a kiss or two, he meant to go that far. He wasn’t going to push it. He’d told her he wouldn’t and he had no intention of going back on his word. But he could foresee a rough weekend ahead of him. And that was before they got to the docks and went onboard the ship. That was when he discovered that controlling his libido was low on the priorities.

* * * * Charity’s heart was thundering in her ears so loudly from the moment she spotted the ship John was leading her to that she wasn’t just deafened to pretty much everything going on around her, her entire system was in chaos. She couldn’t decide if it was excitement creating the pandemonium within or terror. She thought it was a little of both. She kept feeling icy cold and then hot until she’d begun to think she might faint —a first for her! Like the ship. It wasn’t one of the giant ships she’d seen in pictures and movies, but it was the biggest damn ship she’d ever seen in person! Not that she’d seen a lot of ships. In fact, none. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but she supposed she really hadn’t given it a lot of thought or she would’ve been anticipating something like it. She rallied a little when John put his arm around her shoulders. Flicking an appreciative glance up at him, she slipped her arm around his waist to help herself. She definitely felt more than a little weak in the knees when she started up the gang plank to the deck and it went downhill from there because she could feel the fucking thing moving under her feet. Blind panic washed over her—bringing another wave of icy terror and making it clear that that was what she’d been feeling before. She struggled with the urge to tear free of John, whirl around and race back down the gang plank. “Are you ok?” She couldn’t unglue her tongue from the roof of her mouth to respond so she

merely nodded jerkily—a total lie. She hadn’t been on a carnival ride that scared her as bad! Because she wasn’t stupid enough to get on anything that scared her from the ground! She didn’t need to try it. Everyone seemed so happy and friendly! The crew. Somehow that didn’t really work to make her feel any more comfortable or less scared. She didn’t actually see anyone else, but she didn’t really want to at the moment. One of them tried to take her carryon and she fought them for it—briefly—until John uncurled her grip and handed it over. She watched the man that took it heft it, frown when he realized how heavy it was, and then flick a friendly, canned smile at them before he ‘showed them the way’ to their stateroom. John peeled her off when they got there, leaving her standing roughly in the center of the main room, and fished his wallet out and gave the man a tip. He frowned at her when he saw she hadn’t moved, looked confused and doubtful. “You sure you’re ok?” She nodded jerkily. He moved toward her and took her hand. “Jesus! Your hands’ like ice.” He hesitated and then guided her to the couch and forced her to bend her knees and sit. He settled beside her, put an arm around her and drew her close. She was shivering. It wasn’t just her hands that were cold. Consternation filled him, but it was hard to accept that she was that afraid. He felt her forehead.

No fever, but she was clammy and he was alarmed. “Are you … sick?” She shook her head. “Scared?” She nodded jerkily. Well he sure as fuck hadn’t expected that! She’d acted … well not exactly thrilled with the suggestion, he realized. But then he’d thought her reluctance was because she was wary of being stuck on a ship in a room with him. He supposed part of it probably had been. “You haven’t … done this before?” “Which part?” she asked shakily. That stumped him for a handful of moments. But he was damned if he could reconcile the woman in the video with a cringing, terrified virgin! Unless it was just him? He damned well hadn’t seen anything that led him to believe she was really scared of him, though. Leery, yes. He was a stranger to her, but she hadn’t looked at him like he was the booger man. “The ship?” he guessed. “No.” He frowned. “I thought … well, hell, I thought you liked the idea.” She nodded. “I did … do. It’s just ….” “That you hadn’t actually been on one before?”

“No.” She thought about it. “It moves.” He didn’t know whether to be pissed off or amused. “Baby—it’s on water.” She nodded. “Yeah … yeah. I just have to get used to it.” Well they only had two damn days, he thought irritably. How used to it was she going to get in that short time when it clearly scared the pure hell out of her? Maybe she just needed a distraction? “Would you like to sit out on the balcony while we wait to sail?” She glanced that way and then looked at him as if he’d lost his mind, her eyes so round he could see white all the way around the irises. “NO!” She hesitated. “Thank you.” He settled in a more comfortable position after a few minutes and pulled her into one since it looked like they were going to be there a while. He hoped to god she didn’t get seasick! That was really going to cap an already memorable excursion! And they hadn’t left the dock yet! Mental note—see the medic for something for seasickness. Maybe they could head it off by dosing her before it hit her? Unfortunately, he couldn’t reach the phone. He considered peeling her lose long enough to make the call but decided to just sit and hold her until, hopefully, she got past her initial fear and realized she was safe. She fell asleep. Oddly enough, he wasn’t peeved about it. In point of fact, he discovered it was … kind of nice having her curled up in his arms so trustingly. Of course it was hard to get his mind off of his dick when he could feel all her soft curves and he was sucking in her scent with every breath he took, but he kind of sort of enjoyed that, too.

It was sort of like foreplay. With no expectation that there was going to be after-play or actual bumping uglies. Not that hers were. She had beautiful parts. He sighed and shifted to a little more comfortable position. And fell asleep. He woke himself up snoring. He discovered that she was awake and looking up at him, a half smile on her lips. He was dazzled momentarily, but then realized he’d snored and that had woke him. He felt his face redden. “Am I drooling?” A jolt went through her and then she laughed.

Chapter Six

And then she turned red, clearly embarrassed for him. He rubbed his face as she sat up. “There was something over the inner com about dinner,” Charity said. Their clothing was wrinkled all to hell and gone from sleeping in them. “We’re going to look like we were … uh … romping.” She looked at her own clothes in dismay. “Do you think we have time to change?” “I think we should make time. I don’t know about you, but I’m not crazy about being the center of gossip.” Not that he would’ve given a damn if he’d actually gotten laid …. Actually, he realized he would have. He didn’t want the horny bastards on board looking her over and thinking about that shit. Not that he could stop them, but he didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. And there was bound to be a fire when they got a look at her. He damned well wasn’t old enough to be considered as her sugar daddy, but there was no getting around the fact that she was probably the youngest woman he’d ever had any interest in—by several years, at least. He hadn’t asked her how old she was. In the first place, women didn’t like that.

In the second, it would sound like he was making plans and he didn’t think warning her was a good idea. In the third—he was afraid of the answer. She was living on her own, so she had to be legal—he was sure. Of course, she hadn’t let him within a mile of her apartment, but she was a chatty little thing and he was pretty sure she would’ve let something slip if she was still living with her parents. She had, in fact, mentioned her mother—in the past tense. He didn’t want to go there, just in case there was a sad story attached to it that he did not want to resurrect, but he thought she wouldn’t have put it in past tense if she was still living with her mom. * * * * .They were late to the dining room—so they got to make the ‘walk of fame or shame’ while everyone stared at them and pretended not to. Charity was glad John had pointed out they looked like they’d been wallowing because she would’ve been damned uncomfortable. More uncomfortable. She felt better, though. They’d set sail while she was asleep and she supposed she’d gotten used to the rocking—the movement. At least somewhat. She still found it mildly unnerving, but … so far so good. They were still floating. She didn’t want to think about how far they might be from land by now. John helped her into a seat at a large, very crowded, round table near the far end of the dining room. Uneasiness flickered through her when she saw the table was already set— formally. Surreptitiously, she studied everyone else after they’d introduced themselves around the table.

She didn’t know a soul. John, it seemed to her, must know all of them—which wasn’t really surprising since they were on some kind of sales cruise. It must be sort of like those things they had where they invited people to look at property that was for sale, she decided, tuning out most of the conversations around her and focusing on the challenge of looking like she knew what she was doing when she had twice as much or three times as much silverware around her plate as she was used to. Well, even when she’d been at home. She just grabbed a fork at her own place—or a spoon and or a knife. She wasn’t really ‘in’ to cleaning, so she tried not to make a mess to start with. Using the very minimum of everything helped in saving money, too. But she didn’t want to embarrass John when he was trying to make a good impression. It was inevitable that she would get dragged into the conversation. She couldn’t decide if it was just their way of being polite—or nosey. She thought it was a little of both. “Are you from the area … originally?” one of the women asked. Charity thought she’d said her name was Maude. And she was pretty sure her accent was a dead giveaway that she wasn’t from the area. “No.” The woman waited. “So, where are you from?” “Georgia.” “I’ve been through there,” someone else at the table commented. “It’s hot.” Charity smiled thinly at the man. “In the summer, yes.” “I don’t know how people deal with the heat and humidity!” Maude said. “I know what you mean. Every time I see a news piece about the blizzards I

wonder how people deal with them. Guess I’ll find out. Unless I head home before it gets winter.” “Oh!” Maude flicked a look at John. “You’re new to the area?” Charity shrugged. “Yes and no. My aunt and uncle were snowbirds. They always headed south in the winter. But then Uncle Albert had a heart attack and they quit making the trip down.” John changed the subject abruptly. “Anybody catch the game last night?” Relief flooded Charity. Not that she cared anything about ‘the game’ but she was tired of trying to field questions. She hadn’t expected it. She didn’t know why, but she’d thought she would be pretty much invisible. She hadn’t counted on the fact that John would be pretty well known and his friends and acquaintances would be curious about the woman he’d brought. They had dancing after dinner. The only other dance Charity had ever been to was her senior prom—and she’d gone with a friend, not a date. John surprised her. As big as he was, she hadn’t expected he would be so … elegant on the dance floor. She was the clumsy one—because she didn’t know the dance—but he helped her through the first one and she was more certain she knew what she was doing by the second dance. Then it was really fun and really … romantic. They’d dimmed the lights when they started playing the music for slow dances and Charity was … charmed. And warm. Especially when John slowed their dance to a halt and kissed her—right on the dance floor.

She hadn’t expected him to kiss her. And she definitely hadn’t anticipated the effect it would have on her. She was attracted to him and she’d thought it would be nice. She hadn’t expected melt down, but by the time he’d thoroughly explored her mouth, she was drunk with desire and oblivious to the fact that they weren’t alone. The dance floor had completely left her mind. Fortunately for the blushes of both of them and the audience they would’ve had, John had a cooler head. When he broke the kiss, he stared down at her face for a long, long moment and then led her off the dance floor and back to their stateroom by the shortest route. And she’d still had time to touch down from orbit and begin to feel just a touch of uneasiness. They’d barely cleared the door when John crowded her, trapping her between the hard wall of his chest and the hard wall of the cabin. She looked up with a touch of confusion, already feeling the heat rising between them again from his nearness—a little unnerved, but far more excited. “I’ve been wanting this since the first time I saw you,” he murmured in a low growl as he moved closer still, sandwiching her firmly. “If you plan to object you have ten seconds.” Charity’s mind went perfectly blank as he lowered his head to match his lips to hers. Objecting was the furthest thing from her mind by that time. Anticipation hummed through her veins, quickening her heart, shortening her breath. The melding of his lips with hers electrified her, fused the two of them together in a heated union that seemed to weld them soul to soul. Everything about him moved her—the strength of his hands where he held her, the texture and firmness of his lips, the brush of his breath across her face as he

exhaled … his taste as he broke the barrier of her lips and raked his tongue across hers. A pleasured shudder went through her as he finessed her mouth with his, exploring the exquisitely sensitive inner surfaces with bold strokes of his tongue that made her feel heavy and dizzy. She felt as if she was drowning in delight, swept up, buoyed, swirled around, sinking and then rising again as if she was flotsam on a tumultuous sea. Chaos reigned in her mind. Thoughts and images flickered through and were lost. Disappointment was foremost when he broke the kiss and pulled away to study her. She pried her eyelids up and lifted her gaze to meet his. Their gazes locked for a handful of seconds and then he whisked her away from the wall. They didn’t travel far—not nearly enough of a separation to allow her to cool one iota, or to allow doubts to creep in. He reached the couch in two strides, carrying her with him. He’d already peeled his shirt off and nudged his shoes from his feet when he dragged her down onto the cushions. She’d lost her shoes, she discovered, vaguely recalling she’d stumbled over them in the rush to the couch. He didn’t ask her again if she was willing. She knew the look she’d given him was answer enough and was relieved he’d accepted the silent acquiescence without demanding a statement of intent. She didn’t have to ask his. He had her knit top rucked under her chin and her bra unsnapped before she’d finished bouncing from the impact—a sign of experience she had no intention of quibbling over.

Or maybe just dexterity? Her ex was inclined to bruise and chafe her with friction burn if he got too excited and she wasn’t undressed yet. She banished the errant thought when he pressed his erection against her tender thigh bruisingly. In ing. He slipped down her to latch onto one tightly erect nipple hard enough she felt like her head had caved in. She thought she might have experienced a minor eruption the way the muscles along her channel went wild with clapping over his skillfulness with his mouth. They clapped so hard when he moved to the neglected nipple that her belly cramped. Enough of that! She dug between them for the fastening of his pants. They weren’t fastened. He expelled a hiss of pain when she tangled her fingers in his bush in her search for the staff of goodness. Right thigh, left thigh—OMG! She couldn’t decide if she was more impressed with the girth of the anaconda she found in his pants or alarmed. Well, not alarmed. Uneasy? She didn’t get the chance to change her mind. He made the assumption that her grabbing it and trying to stuff it in her hole was a commitment to mounting it.

He took it away from her, reared up to snatch her slacks and panties off, and then toppled over her like a falling tree, ringing the hole with a deadly accuracy that knocked the breath from her lungs. Stalemate. He dug furrows in the couch cushions with his toes. He pulled her upright and tried to work her down over it. And then decided he had more leverage with her on her back. Then they rolled to the floor. She didn’t know if that was intentional or not but the jolt of hitting the floor briefly distracted her. She landed on top, though, and managed to engulf several inches of cock before it tried to bend in the middle. He rolled again, pinning her to the floor. Fortunately all of the gymnastics had broken deadlock because Charity began to feel the unpleasant hardness of the floor almost immediately. Also fortunate for both of them, they’d reached the pinnacle in trying to achieve penetration. There was no room for speculation that time when Charity felt her bells ringing. That was most definitely a climax! She gasped so hard and so sharply with the convulsions of rapture that John silenced her with his mouth. She wasn’t altogether certain that was the reason he’d done it. He was clearly in the grips of his own climax, but it effectively drowned her yodeling. “Fuck!” he muttered when he’d finally caught his breath enough for speech. “I think my knees are hamburger now. How’s your ass?” Charity uttered a snort of laughter. “When was this swept last? And why does it have a sand floor?” Grunting, he levered himself upright and got to his feet. Before she could, he

scooped her up, looked around (apparently to get his bearings or maybe to check to make certain he’d closed the door) and then headed through the main room to the attached bedroom. He dove onto the bed with her, capturing her mouth almost in the same motion. Any doubts Charity had had regarding his intention were dispelled very quickly. That wasn’t a thank you salute. It was a prelude to more of the same. Minus the grinding on the floor. She considered whether she wanted a repeat performance this quickly after Armageddon when, really, she’d been very happy with the first. She decided it was very doubtful he could show her a better time than he already had and probably not nearly as well. But he seemed dedicated to convincing her. Somewhere in the rounds of determined stimulation the thought flickered through her mind that her ex had a way of collapsing into coma for several hours after a good romp and that suggested it might be a guy thing and that suggested that it might be an opportunity she needed. She forgot why. But then again, he’d reached the point of attempting a second penetration and that was nearly as difficult as the first breach even though ‘Carrie Anne’ was still awash in seminal fluids from that first battle of the ugly beasts. She discovered she had to focus on preventing him from stuffing the lips of her sex into her hole and by the time they had that all sorted out, he was pumping for all he was worth and, really, who could focus on anything else at a time like that? Orgasm caught her totally off guard the second time. It was like … a miracle or something—the first time ever. She sang operetta and that was the first time ever either or also. She wasn’t

certain which, but she did think for a handful of desperate moments that she might have a heart attack because she had to fight to catch her breath, and when she sank into oblivion on the heels of it, she wondered if that was the last hurrah or if she’d awaken again. Still on Earth. She did. Much later. Because John was groping her. OMG! He was going to fuck her to death! She clawed her way to the side of the bed and fell off. Leaping to her feet immediately, she looked around drunkenly. “I need to pee,” she said, inelegantly but necessarily because she had no idea where the bathroom was. Groaning, he fell back and then rolled over and muttered something into the pillow that she couldn’t understand. If it was directions, it was damned unhelpful. Fortunately, before she smacked him with a pillow she abruptly recalled she had a mission and he had given her an opportunity.

Chapter Seven

Charity decided when she came out of the bathroom that John was in a post coital coma. He wasn’t actually snoring, but he was breathing deeply enough she thought it might be safe to check his pockets since he’d thoughtfully shucked them beside the bed before plugging in the second time around. She’d had time to gather her wits enough to realize that it was probably very doubtful he’d brought the damned card with him, but she couldn’t convince herself that looking was probably a bad idea anyway. She couldn’t up the opportunity to at least look. Something jingled when she picked his pants up and she heard a sound from the bed. She froze, whipped a look in that direction even as she rammed her hand to the bottom of the pocket for a quick search. Which didn’t turn up a damned thing! Wrong pocket? Something had jingled, damn it! John sat up in the bed. “What’s up?” Charity dropped his pants and smiled at him weakly. “I figured I’d … uh … take the couch. You looked so … uh … comfy.” He flopped back on the bed. “Come back to bed,” he murmured a little drunkenly. She hesitated, wondering if he would go back to sleep so she could search his luggage. She didn’t think he had, though. She debated briefly, but she had a bad feeling if he caught her going through his stuff he was a lot more likely to think she was trying to rob him than trying to

retrieve her card. Sighing defeat, she climbed back on the bed. He took it as an invitation for round three. She was nearly comatose after that round. But not so far gone that she didn’t know when he reached for her again. She grabbed her pillow and beat him on the head and shoulders with it. He started laughing—shaking with laughter. “Is that a no?” She rolled over and put her back to him and managed to get back to sleep. And slept so heavily she didn’t even know when he got up, dressed and left. Still sluggish, she tried to go back to sleep for a little while and finally got up and hobbled into the bathroom. Because she was next door to crippled when she got up. She felt like her hips had been shoved out of the sockets. And her poor Carrie Anne was throbbing—not with sexual tension—but as if he’d taken a bat and pounded on it all night. She needed an ice pack. She settled for a hot bath and a cold washcloth pack until Carrie Anne didn’t feel quite as swollen and bruised. When she finally got dressed and walked into the living room area, she stopped dead in her tracks. The camera was sitting on the table. She stared at it, frozen, and finally looked around as if it was a trap. She didn’t see anyone or any hidden cameras, though.

Finally, she approached it and reached for it. Then she thought better of it and pulled her hand back. Frowning, she settled in a chair and studied it. Why would he take it out and just set it on the table? Was it a trap? Or was it … like a gift? He was giving her her life back? She was afraid to accept that that was what he’d intended, but she picked the camera up finally and turned it on. Almost instantly, the moans and groans and grunting assailed her ears. It wasn’t just the camera. It was the card. She felt her face flame as she stared at it. He’d put the card back in—because he’d taken it out before. She swallowed against a hard knot in her throat, casting her mind back over the night they’d spent together. The evening. And then he’d given her the card. He’d watched it first, though. She knew he had. She’d made him suspicious when she’d been so desperate to get it back and he’d watched it. Embarrassment didn’t even begin to cover her feelings at that moment. She was embarrassed, but more than that she felt … soiled. She hadn’t felt that way when she’d made it with her ex. She’d thought she was crazy in love with him and it had felt … like love. She knew it hadn’t looked like

that to John, though. To him it had just been a disgusting display of raw sex. Like a porn—except worse because it was real. She swallowed convulsively, trying to dislodge the huge knot in her throat, but discovered she couldn’t. She hadn’t realized until that very moment that she’d fallen for John. Now that it was too late. She’d known that damned video would destroy her life. She just hadn’t expected it to be this way. She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. And that was before she saw the magazine—Forbes. And there was John on the front cover. Because this was the weekend he was merging his giant company with another huge corporation. She headed into the bathroom to hide with it. Well, she actually didn’t realize she hadn’t put it down until she got in the bathroom, but she was glad she had. John didn’t see it when he came in around lunch and tried to coax her out for the luncheon. So he didn’t know she knew. Boy! He must think she was a complete moron besides being a total whore! She told him she was sick, but she thought she’d be alright after a shower and he left. They were supposed to stop for a shore excursion after lunch. When he left she went into the bedroom and got her suitcase and sat on the bed

to wait until they left and then she went out and found somebody to give her a lift to shore. It was a strange city, but they had taxis and they had buses and trains. She managed to get a ticket back to the city. She doubted very much that he’d bother to look for her, but she needed the comfort of familiar surroundings even if there was really nobody back home to go to anymore. There were still familiar faces and familiar places. She did feel better after she got home—a lot better. Hopefully, he hadn’t made a copy of the damned video. She destroyed it and tried to put it out of her mind. Luckily, she’d been saving for a car a long, long time and she had almost saved enough to get one, because she needed it to live on for a little bit, even though she managed to get a job pretty quickly. She should have known as soon as they got on the ship, she realized, that she was way in over her head! Hell, she should have known when he’d taken her to that fancy restaurant! He wasn’t pissed off because he knew it was expensive and the prices didn’t bother him because he was rich. And then, wouldn’t you know it! Just about the time she began to feel a little more like herself, he showed up. He was waiting for her outside of the restaurant where she’d gotten her job when she got off work. She almost ran right into him when she came out—actually did bump him. “Oh! Sorry!” The quick glance she’d thrown in his direction froze. He smiled back at her a little uncomfortably. “It was hell finding you, you

know.” Charity felt the blood leave her face when it leapt into her mind that, maybe, she’d been wrong about the camera. Maybe he hadn’t realized she would find it and take the card? Which technically belonged to him since he’d bought the camera. Except that hadn’t occurred to her then—because she’d convinced herself he’d left it for her. “You were looking for me? Why?” His lips tightened. “Why did you take off like that?” She felt her face heat. She gave him a look and swallowed a little convulsively. “You knew about the damned card the whole time, didn’t you?” He blushed, struggled for a moment and capitulated. “Yes.” She felt the blood leave her face again. She hadn’t expected him to it it. “So … thank you for giving it back.” Thankfully, he didn’t call her a thief and tell her he hadn’t planned on giving it back. “Is that all the fuck you can say to me after I’ve hunted you all over hell’s half acre?” he growled. “Thanks?” Her lips tightened in anger. “What do you want from me, John?” He swallowed audibly and yanked her up tight against his length. “Everything, Charity.” She didn’t try to avoid his kiss although she was in debate right up until his lips touched hers. It was everything she ed—better than she ed and she’d convinced herself that she’d just embroidered it until she’d blown it all out of proportion. After a moment’s hesitation, she lifted her arms and curled them around his neck. She was hot and randy by the time he broke the kiss. “Marry me?” She gaped at him as if she’d never heard the word.

Well, she hadn’t actually—not in the form of a proposal. She’d been propositioned—He had propositioned her. And it had been a damned dirty trick! Wicked! At least that was what she’d thought—just a ploy to get her in the sack because, she supposed, he’d been fantasizing about that damned porn she’d made with her ex. “I’m sorry … what?” He kissed her again—a shorter kiss. “Just say yes, baby.” She felt her lips curl. “Yes, baby.” He pulled away to stare at her for a long moment. “Yes?” Her smiled widened. “I love you, John.” He hugged her so tightly she thought he was going to squeeze the stuffing out of her. “I love you.”

The End.