Читать книгу Drive Me Wild - Vicki Lewis Thompson - Страница 8

ALEC NEEDED A COLD SHOWER, but that wasn’t possible, so he casually adjusted the air-conditioning vent so it blew directly on his lap. He’d been worried that the X-rated video question would insult Molly, but at least then he’d have had his answer. She wasn’t insulted. She was taking the Fifth.

Even if he hadn’t studied law, he’d still know that anybody who refused to answer was most likely hiding something. So she really could be a star of those movies. He wasn’t proud of his reaction to the news, either. Damned if he wasn’t rising to the occasion.

She could also be teasing him. That concept didn’t improve his condition at all. A woman willing to kid around about something like that would be the kind of bed partner he’d always dreamed of, someone who liked to have fun with sex instead of making it into a serious business. She was either an X-rated movie star or a sexy little tease. Both possibilities had him so turned on he could barely drive the car.

But that’s what she was paying him to do, and he’d better stop fantasizing about her naked body or they’d find themselves in a ten-car pileup in Midtown. He glanced over at her, trying to decide if she was kidding him or not.

She just smiled, as if watching him squirm was giving her great pleasure. She certainly didn’t dress as if she made that kind of movie. Sure, her skirt was on the short side, but it belonged to a black silk suit that looked more Glamour than Playboy. His sister subscribed to Glamour, and she’d be very impressed with the outfit Molly was wearing.

Then again, an X-rated star wouldn’t necessarily dress the part when she wasn’t in front of the camera. Molly’s outfit didn’t tell him much except that she had good taste in clothes. Damn, he didn’t know what to think. And with a large portion of his blood draining south, he didn’t have much left to power his brain, anyway.

Somehow he managed to follow Molly’s directions and get her to the right address. He even remembered to give her his cell-phone number so that she could call him when she was finished. Then, like an idiot, he sat and watched her go into the building. If he hadn’t been startled out of his trance by blaring horns and New York–style swearing, he might have stayed right there until she showed up again.

Humbled by what a complete moron he’d turned into, he drove to the nearest parking garage, found a space and leaned back against the headrest with a sigh. He never should have asked her. Instead of satisfying his curiosity, she’d made herself more mysterious and fascinating than ever. His overheated brain buzzed with thoughts of Molly, sex kitten. Something told him he wouldn’t get much studying done in the next hour.

MOLLY SAT in the red leather chair in Benjamin’s office. Her manuscript, bound by a thin rubber band, lay on the desk between them. Benjamin gazed at her from behind his thick glasses. His gray hair was carefully combed. He wasn’t smiling.

Looking at him, Molly decided she didn’t want to talk about the manuscript. She might not ever want to talk about the manuscript. “It really feels like spring out there,” she said. “I didn’t even need a coat. Is it usually this warm in April?”

“Not usually. Listen, I’ve read your manuscript, and I—”

“I’ve never spent a whole summer in this area. I’m looking forward to walking on the beach, buying produce from roadside stands, getting a—”

“Molly, I’m sorry.”

She felt as if someone had shoveled ice cubes into her stomach. “The book, um, needs work?” She cleared her throat. “That’s okay. I can—”

“I wish I could believe that you can fix it.”

She stared at him. “Of course I can fix it! I’m a professional writer, so tell me what needs to be done, and I’ll do it.” Maybe this was a nightmare and she’d wake up. She pinched her arm, but nothing changed. She was still sitting in a chair across from a very sad-looking, gray-haired agent who didn’t like her book.

“I assume that you want this to be a hot read about a woman exploring her sexual fantasies.”

“Well, that’s sort of what I was going for.” And Benjamin didn’t think she’d pulled it off. She swallowed. Life didn’t get much more hideous than this, having a middle-aged man tell you that when it came to sex, you just didn’t get it. Benjamin’s blue eyes looked huge and filled with sympathy. She didn’t want sympathy. She wanted the New York Times bestseller list with Molly Drake in the top ten.

“It’s not sexy,” he said, putting an unnecessary point on what had been, up to now, merely hinted at.

She winced. But hey, what did Benjamin know, anyway? He’d been married since Nixon was president. He probably couldn’t remember what sex was like!

Benjamin folded his hands and leaned toward her. “I don’t think writing about sex is your strong point. The cozy mysteries you’ve been writing for Dana—that’s where you need to put your energy. They don’t require any sex.”

“I’m sick of writing cozy mysteries!”

“Then maybe you need a break. You’ve been turning out those books for Dana faster than you should. I can have that August deadline moved, if you want me to. Dana’s established, now, so you can—”

“That’s exactly it.” Molly hadn’t realized how much this manuscript meant to her until now, when Benjamin seemed ready to dump it in his stylish trash can. “Dana’s established. I’m not. I’m grateful for her, grateful for the money, but I want to publish something under my own name.”

Benjamin sighed and leaned back in his chair. “You’re in a catch-22, then, because it can’t be anything similar to what you’re writing for her. There’s that non-compete clause in the contract.”

Molly gestured toward the manuscript on his desk. “That’s not similar.”

“No. But if you’d hoped to leap to another genre, I’m afraid you didn’t quite succeed.”

Her heart was beating like a jackhammer. She wanted to believe that Benjamin didn’t know what he was talking about, but he had some clients who wrote hot books. Obviously he didn’t think she fit in with those authors. Later on she’d probably cry about this, but right now she was too busy fighting for her creative life to cry. “I’ll rewrite the love scenes.”

“I don’t know if that will work.”

“Of course it will. I thought they were sexy enough, but apparently I was wrong. I’ll do something about that.”

He gazed at her for several long seconds. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll probably say it wrong, but the manuscript reads as if the author doesn’t have much experience with the concept of sexual adventure.”

She sat in stunned silence.

“That’s why I doubt you can fix it,” he added gently. “Again, my advice is to stick with the cozy mysteries. Let’s face it, Molly, you’re a cautious person, a basically introverted person, which many writers are. This kind of book just isn’t you. Cozy mysteries fit you perfectly.”

Molly’s ears rang as blood rushed to her head. This was unacceptable. This was totally unacceptable. How ironic that Alec half believed that she was an X-rated video star and Benjamin saw her as introverted and sexually timid. She wasn’t sexually timid! She just…okay, maybe she was a wee bit cautious when it came to sex, but she was far from a virgin.

She hadn’t had much experience because she hadn’t relished having her sexual exploits splashed all over the tabloids. As a result, she might have reined herself in too much. But under the right circumstances, she was certainly capable of throwing caution to the winds and grabbing life by the cojones. If that would inspire better sex scenes, she’d do it.

“Of course, I’ll send it out if you insist,” Benjamin said. “You have the final say-so.”

“No.” Molly stood and plucked the manuscript from his desk. The rubber band broke, and she had to grab the stack of pages with both hands to keep them from scattering all over Benjamin’s tidy office. “I’ll take what you said under advisement.”

Benjamin stood, too. “Molly, do you know how many writers would kill to be in your shoes? Not very many people make a living at writing, you know.”

“I do know.” She stuffed the manuscript into her shoulder bag. Once she got it home she’d treat it more carefully, like the wounded child it was, but for now she wanted to make her exit. “I’m grateful for the chance Dana’s given me. But I will publish something under my own name.”

“I’m sure you will.” Benjamin was old enough to be her father and unfortunately he was beginning to sound uncomfortably like a father. “You just need to find the right vehicle.”

“I just need to find more sex!” The moment the words came out, Molly blushed. But it was true. And she needed to work on controlling that blush if she intended to reinvent herself.

Benjamin looked uncomfortable. “Wait a minute, Molly. Don’t think for a minute that I’m advocating that you—”

“I don’t think that.”

He continued to eye her uneasily. “People can’t change their basic personality, and if they try, they can get into big trouble.”

“Absolutely.” Except her personality wasn’t quite as basic as Benjamin thought. Maybe she needed more knowledge, but she’d loved putting together that book, amateurish as it might have turned out to be. She was a sexual diamond in the rough. And she had some ideas as to how to acquire that all-important polish.

He smiled in obvious relief. “I’m glad you’re not planning to do anything rash. It’s a dangerous world out there, and you have to be careful.”

“Exactly.” She wondered if Benjamin had a clue what it was like “out there,” but he was trying to protect her, which was sweet. Considering that she wasn’t a big-deal client, only the ghostwriter for a big-deal client, she should probably be flattered that he cared about her well-being.

“Well, then.” Benjamin clasped his hands together. “Would you like me to have that August deadline changed so you can have a breather?”

“No, that’s okay.” Molly didn’t want Dana to get an inkling that her ghostwriter was dissatisfied with the status quo. When Molly was a teenager and had wanted to ditch the acting gig in order to write, Dana had taken her side against her mom and dad. Molly intended to treat Dana right.

“So you’re okay, then?” He looked as if he needed reassurance.

“I’m fine.” She managed a smile. “Thank you for reading the manuscript.”

“Parts of it were excellent.”

“Thank you.” She resisted the urge to ask him which parts. Whether or not she could write wasn’t the issue. The question was whether or not she could write about raw, uninhibited sex.

They shook hands and said their goodbyes. As Molly made her way out of his office, she dug through her purse for the business card with Alec’s cell phone number on it. Thanks to a buddy with a wild imagination, Alec thought she might be a woman who acted out sex scenes in front of a camera. That obviously turned him on. She was about to trade shamelessly on that piece of misinformation.

ALEC WAS AMAZED when Molly called him before twelve-thirty. If he’d had an hour-long appointment with her, he’d have used the entire sixty minutes. For some reason her agent had let her get away early. Must be a woman.

Traffic was dense, but traffic was always dense in New York. Other than wanting to pick up Molly ASAP, Alec didn’t mind fighting traffic. Actually, he enjoyed the challenge. In the city he pictured himself as Luke Skywalker shooting through the Death Star maze. On the turnpike he pretended to drive the Indy 500, but he had to watch out for that fantasy. Too many speeding tickets and he’d be out of a job.

Molly was standing on the sidewalk where he’d left her, and she didn’t look very happy. She’d promised to tell him about this meeting, though, so he’d find out what or who had put that expression on her face. He didn’t like seeing Molly unhappy and took an instant dislike to her agent, who probably was responsible for making her sad.

He doubled-parked and got out to open the door for her, but she was inside before he made it all the way around the car. Molly was like that, not the least interested in being treated like a diva. She didn’t know that he loved opening doors for her.

“Let’s have lunch at a hotel,” she said the minute he got behind the wheel.

“Which one?”

“Any one. The closest one. My treat. Use valet parking. I’m really hungry.”

“Okay.” He doubted this was a celebration, but he wasn’t going to argue with her. If she wanted a nice meal in a hotel restaurant, he’d make sure she got it. He wished he could offer to buy her lunch, but at New York prices, lunch could suck up a good portion of his rent money. He’d never minded being poor until this moment.

He drove around the block and pulled into the valet parking area of the first high-rise hotel he came to, not even bothering to notice if it was a Hilton, Sheraton or something else entirely.

“Perfect.” She was helped out of the car by the doorman while Alec gave the keys to the parking attendant.

As Alec walked over to join her, he remembered he was dressed in his car service logo shirt, which was smudged. “Maybe you should go in without me,” he said. “I’m not wearing the right clothes.”

She glanced at him. “You’re fine, but if you’re worried about it, we can go to the hotel coffee shop instead of the dining room.”

He followed her through the revolving doors. “It depends on what you want to eat.”

“I’d rather be in the coffee shop with you than by myself in the dining room. Let’s get a sandwich.”

He was a little confused by her strange mood, but he decided to play along. “Okay.” As they walked through the lobby on their way to the coffee shop, he caught a glimpse of the two of them in a large wall mirror. With her dressed in elegant city clothes and him in his chauffeur’s outfit, he sure did look like her boy toy.

He wondered if she had boy toys. In the six months he’d known her, he hadn’t seen evidence that she dated anyone. That didn’t mean much, though. Logically she wouldn’t need a chauffeur when a guy was around, so he wouldn’t have reason to cross paths with her dates.

The hostess showed them to a table, and Alec held Molly’s chair for her.

She smiled up at him. “Thanks.”

“I should be thanking you, for offering to buy my lunch.” He sat down, picked up the menu and glanced at the prices. The place was fancy for a coffee shop, but there were a few meals in his price range. “You know, I could pay for my own. That makes more sense.”

“Let’s not worry about it now.” She made quick work of studying the menu and was ready for the waiter when he came to fill their water glasses.

While she ordered a grilled-chicken salad, Alec quickly decided on a Reuben. Once the waiter left, Alec leaned forward. “You said you’d tell me about your meeting with your agent.”

“I will, but not right this minute.” Her green eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. The sad expression had disappeared.

“I take it she didn’t give you good news.”

“It’s he, and no, he didn’t. But I don’t intend to let that spoil our meal. So you like Reuben sandwiches?”

“Sure do.”

“So do I, but I felt like having something a little lighter. Maybe you’ll let me have a bite of yours.”

This was feeling more and more like a date. “Uh, sure.”

“There’s something about that tangy combo of sauerkraut and corned beef, isn’t there?”

“I’ve always liked it.”

“And if they bring it immediately after they fix it, and it’s still warm, with the cheese melted…mmm, yummy.”

“Uh-huh.” He had the definite impression this discussion was about something besides food. His groin was registering sexual overtones. Major sexual overtones. Molly had flirted with him before, but it had been more on the order of Sex Lite, not really intended to go anywhere. This time she seemed to have a definite destination in mind, and he was getting hotter by the second.

“Alec?”

He cleared his throat. “What?”

“I’ll bet Red Carpet has a policy against dating clients.”

His heart started beating faster. “It does. But if you’re worried about this lunch, I don’t think that counts. I mean, you have to eat.” He’d pretend to misunderstand where the conversation was leading, to see if she was serious or messing with his head.

“I wasn’t really worried about this lunch. We’re in New York, not Old Saybrook. No one will see us having lunch, whether your company would frown on it or not.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“So, let’s say you decided to take a chance, decided for a little while to ignore your company’s policy. Let’s say your client promised never to say anything to anyone.” She paused to gaze at him.

If he hadn’t noticed the slight tremor of her hand as she reached for her water glass, he would have thought she was cool as can be. He wasn’t, though. He was breaking out in a sweat. “Okay, let’s say that.”

She sloshed a little water over the rim of the glass as she set it unsteadily back on the tablecloth. Her eyelashes fluttered, and then she looked straight at him. “I don’t want you to lose your job on account of me.”

“You let me worry about that.” He no longer gave a damn about the job. Five minutes ago he’d thought it was very important, but five minutes ago Molly hadn’t been across the table, color high, hinting that she wanted something more from him than chauffeur service.

“It’s just that I find you very attractive,” she said.

“Ditto.” That was suave. He tried again. “I find you very attractive, too.”

“But there are so many problems.”

“I know.” He couldn’t think of a single one, but he knew they were out there, temporarily obliterated by a firestorm of lust.

“I don’t really have time for dating.” She gripped the slick water glass in both hands and brought it to her mouth for a single swallow.

So she hadn’t been going out, after all. Nice to know. “Why not?”

“I’m trying to move ahead in my career.”

Making X-rated movies? But he didn’t ask. “I don’t really have time to date, either.” He said it automatically, but now he realized that he’d make the time—for her.

“That’s what I thought. And then there’s the situation with me being a client for the car service.”

“True.” And maybe he’d been crazy to let that stand in his way for six months. Was he a man or a wuss?

She turned the water glass around and around in her hands while she stared at the ice bobbing inside. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it.”

“So have I.” Which answered the question of whether he was a man or a wuss. He’d thought about her during the day, dreamed about her at night, and hadn’t made a single move. Pathetic.

But most of their time together had been side by side, riding in the Town Car. This was the longest he’d ever sat across from her, able to really look at her. She was a treat, all red-gold curls and creamy skin.

He’d never noticed her hands before, but he noticed them now as she continued to fondle her water glass. She kept her nails short and free of polish. Movie stars, any kind of movie star, had long nails. But she could put on the fake ones during shooting. He was fascinated by the way she was stroking that dripping glass. Then she clutched it in two hands again and took another sip. God, he was getting hard.

She took a long, shaky breath. “Okay, so we’re both interested.”

“Definitely.”

“And fate has caused us to end up in the city together today.”

“Yes.” Fate in the form of George and Alma Federman, whose flat tire had made him late. They’d insisted on inviting him over for dinner some night this week, but he should be the one taking them out, from the look of things.

“So, um, I was thinking…”

His heart thudded like a pile driver. “Yes?”

“Well, considering everything—” She stopped and glanced up as the waiter appeared with their food.

Alec wasn’t hungry anymore. He wanted her to keep talking. The waiter seemed to take forever setting down the plates, asking if they needed anything, getting ketchup for the fries that had come with his Reuben.

Finally they were alone again. “You were saying?” Alec prompted.

“I think we should eat.” She picked up her fork, but her hand was still trembling.

“Is this the date? Lunch?”

“Eat your Reuben.”

“I mean, we could take a walk through Central Park, or something like that.” Then he worried that he sounded cheap. Unfortunately he didn’t have much cash on him, and his credit card didn’t have a whole lot of room on it, either.

“Before we decide what we’re going to do, we should eat our food.” She speared some chicken and lettuce with her fork.

“Okay.” He dutifully took a bite of his Reuben. He’d never realized before how juicy a Reuben was. It dripped on his fingers and he ended up licking them. Then he glanced up and found her watching him, her lips parted, her breathing uneven.

“Is it good?” she asked.

“Yes.” Oh, man, she was delectable. “Want some?”

She nodded.

He held out the sandwich, putting his other hand underneath to catch the drips. When she leaned over to take a bite, her lips brushed his fingers. Just in time he stifled a groan.

She chewed and swallowed. “It is good.”

“You can have the rest.” You can have anything you want. He picked up his plate to give it to her.

“No. No, thank you. I have my salad.” She started eating it again as if someone had told her she couldn’t have dessert unless she cleaned her plate.

Alec decided he might as well follow her lead, so he polished off half the sandwich. But as he was tackling the other half, he decided to get this money situation out in the open. “I like your idea of spending time together here in New York today, and I wish I could afford to take you somewhere nice, maybe even to a matinee on Broadway, but I don’t have much—”

“Alec, I’ll cover the cost of whatever we do.”

“That doesn’t feel right. I know it’s a new century, but I want to at least pay my own way.”

“When do you have to have the car back?”

“Sometime tonight. Edgars doesn’t need it until tomorrow, and I have access to the parking lot, so there’s no deadline or anything. We can hang around the city as long as you want.”

She hadn’t finished her salad, but she pushed her plate away. “I don’t want to hang around the city.”

“But you said—”

“I want…” She paused and lowered her voice. “I want to get a room.”

Alec almost came in his pants.