Velvet, Leather & Lace: A Man's Gotta DoCalling the ShotsBaring It All Read online

  “Lorna, it’s Jamie Baird, the guy who can’t tell a ripe melon from a green one.”

  “Jamie?” she whispered. Her heart was trying to kick its way out of her chest and take her inner serenity with it. He’d actually stood her up for their third date. A no show. Why was he calling her? He was the reason she’d had to rethink her life and her friends. She was searching for her inner bitch because of him.

  “Lorna, don’t delete me!”

  Lorna lifted her finger from the delete button. She looked around the room. Did he have a camera in here somewhere?

  “If you’re screening calls,” he said, “just listen for ten more seconds. What’s ten seconds for what could be the sweetest deal of your life?”

  He couldn’t be serious. He was calling to offer her a deal? He wasn’t going to grovel or get down on his knees and beg her for another date? That was the least he could do—not that she’d accept.

  “I need your help, Lorna. Didn’t you tell me you dreamed of being an actress when you were a little girl? Well, have I got a role for you. You were made for this role. You’re perfect.”

  She should never have told a man like that her dreams. And he should not have been born with such a husky, baby-let-me-love-you-tonight voice. Damn Jamie Baird anyway, with his wavy black hair, squared-off jaw and sexy quarterback butt. The second she’d laid eyes on him, she’d wanted to have sex with him—right there in the produce section. She’d been showing him how to check melons for ripeness, and dear God, the way he’d handled that fruit. She could almost hear the melons squealing with pleasure. She’d never seen sexier hands, and he definitely knew what to do with them.

  Lorna grabbed a magazine off her night table and fanned herself with it. She should not be thinking about his hands right now. She would start melting from the toes up. Her body heat had already hit record numbers. She smelled like a strawberry patch in the summer sun. Yup, it was definitely going to be a mood-altering chocolate night.

  “Say yes,” Jamie implored.

  Now there was a familiar refrain. At least she’d held out until their second date, but then she’d all but attacked him. He could kiss, too. Such heat, such sizzle, such bliss. And afterward, such humiliation. What had possessed her? She couldn’t blame it on diminished capacity. She hadn’t had anything exotic to eat or drink that night. It was one of those out-of-control moments where you did something you never thought you could and then wished you hadn’t.

  They’d actually done it in his car before they even got to his house, and then on his porch before they got inside, and then of course, in the living room before they reached the bedroom. In fact, they never got to the bedroom. They were too exhausted.

  Bold? She’d been brazen, positively sluttish.

  On second thought, the third time wasn’t technically the living room. It was the dining room table. Both areas were combined in a great room.

  “Say yes,” he echoed, “and you’ll think you’ve won the lottery. You can have your choice of a vacation anywhere in the world, a lifetime supply of lingerie, or if you prefer, cold, hard cash. Whatever you want, Lorna, but please, be my star.”

  Now, he was offering money? He could have had her with an apology! The man really knew how to rip out a woman’s heart and dance the tarantella on it. He needed to be taught a thing or two, and this might be her chance.

  Lorna tossed the magazine on the bed. Jamie Baird had already introduced her to her inner vixen. Boy, and how. Now, if there was any justice in this world, he was about to present her with the perfect opportunity to get in touch with her inner B word.

  She picked up the phone. “What do I have to do?” she asked.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE SILENCE on the other end of the line prompted Lorna to ask, “Is anyone there?”

  Jamie’s voice sounded a bit skeptical. “Did you just say yes, Lorna? This is Lorna, isn’t it?”

  She was glad he couldn’t see her smile. “Yes, this is Lorna, and yes, I said yes. I’d love to help you, Jamie. And by the way, it’s wonderful to hear from you after all this time.”

  “Really? Wonderful?”

  She could just see his sexy dark brows arching, then furrowing in doubt. Just for fun, she made little kissy noises into the mouthpiece.

  “What do I have to do?” she asked him, “knock off a bank? A person? You name it, and I’ll do it. Anything for Jamie Baird.”

  “Lorna, are you all right?”

  “Perfect. Couldn’t be better.”

  “And you’re sure you want to do this? Maybe you should hear what it is first. Some people might think it’s a little weird.”

  “It’s you asking. That’s enough.”

  Silence. Sweet music to her ears. He was speechless, and she was the reason.

  “Here’s the deal,” he said finally. “I need you to be me. I need you to pose as me, as Jamie Baird.”

  “That is weird.” Lorna sat on the bed, listening with disbelief as he laid out his plan for her to take his place during VLL’s publicity blitz, including the interview that would feature Jamie in “her” home. It surprised her that he worked for VLL, especially since the company was supposed to be run exclusively by women. She’d read the VLL story in their catalog. How bizarre that she’d just put on one of their negligees.

  “Everything happened at warp speed,” he explained. “Our new investors proposed a global satellite fashion show, and the publicity campaign got away from us, but we’ll clear up the confusion as soon as the show’s over. Right now there’s too much at stake to throw the press a chunk of red meat, namely me. If they find out Jamie Baird’s a man, they’ll go after that story, and it’s crucial they focus on the lingerie, not on me. We may not get another shot at this kind of exposure.”

  He paused, as if waiting for Lorna to react. She didn’t.

  “Are you still interested?” he asked.

  “More than interested. I’m excited. I’m ready.”

  “Ready is good.” Another space of silence. “Why?”

  “Why am I ready? Because I’m on vacation with nowhere to go, and it sounds like fun.” And because I want to see you sweat, Romeo.

  “So, the timing is right?”

  Finally, he sounded as if he was beginning to believe her. “It’s perfect,” she said. “When do we start? When do I become you?”

  “I’ll pick you up in ten minutes. We’ll go to my place.”

  “Tonight? Now? Your place?”

  “The interview’s just two days away. I have to get the beach house looking like a woman lives there, and I’ll need your advice on that. And you have to take on my entire life, Lorna.”

  She couldn’t ignore her vital signs any longer. They were having a field day. All of her crevices were damp—her cleavage, her armpits and the backs of her knees. Even the one she was sitting on. The effect he had on her was so unladylike. She was getting…steamy.

  She grabbed the magazine to fan herself, wondering if she should take it with her. But not for her. For him. “Why don’t I meet you at your place in a half hour. No, make it forty-five minutes.”

  “Great. Bring whatever you need. You’re going to be staying until the interior is done. And Lorna, come as you are.”

  Lorna glanced at her negligee. Beyond the low-cut bodice, it was one of VLL’s new line of breakaway lingerie. They’d called it StripLoc in the catalog, and certain essential seams were actually held by a Velcro-like material that let go with a little tug. Lorna had planned to change into jeans, but he’d told her to come as she was.

  “See you in forty-five,” he said.

  “Yes, you will,” she answered brightly. “You certainly will.”

  FASCINATING PIECE of work, Lorna Sutton.

  Jamie thought about little else but their phone conversation as he plowed through the rooms of his house, picking up clothes, newspapers, magazines. He was between housekeepers and the place was a train wreck at the moment, especially his bedroom.

  Anything for Jamie Baird? H
er voice had been honey dripping from a stick when she’d said that. And those noises she made in his ear, what were those throaty little noises? God, what a sweet jolt that was. She might as well have applied electrodes directly to his groin.

  He crouched in the doorway of the master bath to pick up a men’s magazine lying open on the floor. This one had a section on hot gifts for women, featuring lingerie. He only had the magazines around for research, of course. A man who designed women’s unmentionables had to do research, right? Just like college boys bought Playboy for the articles.

  “The sacrifices never stop,” he said, adding the magazine to his pile. There was nowhere to go with all the junk he’d collected but his walk-in closet, which was already exploding. He dumped everything—magazines, papers and the armful of clothes—into an overstuffed hamper and then slammed the lid on it, praying nothing escaped.

  What was that thing she’d said about being ready?

  More than interested. I’m excited. I’m ready.

  Everything coming from her mouth sounded like an erotic invitation, but maybe he was dreaming. He remembered their second date as lightning hot. It may even have equaled in intensity all his other experiences put together, and he’d been with a few women. That kind of chemistry could reach flash point. It could be dangerous.

  That had nothing to do with why he’d backed off, though. He would have walked on hot coals to see her again, but he’d been ambushed by the job. He wasn’t afraid of volcanic sex, even when it got crazy and emotional, as it had in this case. Hell, no. He’d said some pretty intense things, like asking her where she’d been all his life, and admitting nothing like that had ever happened to him before. And he’d caught the brilliant glitter of her green eyes afterward. She’d sworn it wasn’t tears, that she was fine. Actually, she’d been adamant about that, but he hadn’t been so sure. They’d both been blindsided, that much he did know.

  A quick glance around his bedroom told him his work wasn’t done. An Eiffel Tower made of condoms stood on his dresser. He’d won it in an arm-wrestling contest at his gym, but how many women decorated with condoms? Maybe he could stash it in the garage along with the collection of Vargas pinups his partners had given him for artistic inspiration. He also had a signed football jersey on the wall, black satin sheets on the bed and a pair of leg irons hanging from his bedpost, possibly to offset the dressmaker’s dummy he used to drape material and the stacks of sketch pads on his work desk, filled with lingerie designs.

  He gave the leg irons another look, wondering why a female Jamie Baird couldn’t have a pair of those in her bedroom. Might make for some interesting interview questions. On second thought, maybe too interesting. He wanted to keep the focus on VLL. When the guys came over for poker, he kept this room locked tight. Maybe he’d better do that for the interview, too. The press was curious about Jamie Baird, the woman business guru, not the designer. Better not to confuse things. They were confused enough already.

  “It’s not easy being a girl,” he said under his breath. As he left the room, he reached down to adjust himself, probably just to make sure everything was still there. It was a reflex.

  Turning the bungalow into a woman’s domain was going to take some work, he realized as he walked through the house. It was actually a three-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bath rambler with a swimming pool and spa in the back, surrounded by a huge stone terrace. Apparently, the original owners didn’t think there was enough water in the ocean so they added a pool. Jamie liked it for the privacy.

  He was in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher when he heard the brass door knocker out front. Lorna? Nothing soft or seductive about that rap. It was all business.

  “Come on in,” he called out, reaching for a kitchen towel. “It’s open.”

  He’d dressed for the midsummer heat in trunks and a tank top, standard beach gear. He’d also opened the terrace doors and the skylights to let in the balmy evening air that southern California was famous for.

  He was picturing Lorna in shorts or a sundress, but a vision in black lace walked through the door. The gown she was wearing looked more like a negligee than a dress, and unless his eyes deceived him, she was naked underneath. He’d never been one of those guys who ogled women’s body parts, but her breasts moved when she did, and for a second, he couldn’t tear himself away.

  She made him burn, just the sight of her. It felt as though someone had struck one of those matches that wouldn’t go out.

  “Recognize it?” She touched the skirt of her gown. “It came from Velvet, Leather & Lace, your catalog.”

  “If only we had models who could make it look the way you do,” he said. His gaze dropped from her coral-pink mouth to her breasts, again. They needed obedience school. Not her breasts. His eyes.

  She smiled and set down the overnight bag she was carrying. On her way back up, she hooked her finger in the side slit of her gown and ripped it up to the top of her thigh.

  It took Jamie a moment to find the words. “What are you doing?”

  “Isn’t this fun?” she said. “It’s like Velcro. All it takes is a little tug and your clothes fall off.”

  Jamie thought his jaw might fall off.

  She tugged at her bra strap, and it came apart with a soft ripping sound that he was very familiar with. The black lace cup drooped forward, revealing one lush, creamy breast, almost entirely. Her nipple peeked out at him like a shy child. If she ripped open the other one, she would be topless.

  “Want to see what else it does?” She touched the other strap as if she’d read his mind.

  “No, that’s okay,” he said. “I know what it does. I designed it.”

  “You designed StripLoc lingerie? How clever of you. I’ll bet you’re making couples all over the country very happy, possibly tonight. Sure you don’t want me to demonstrate? I tried it at home.”

  “In that case, the gown should come with a warning label.”

  She gazed at him, seeming puzzled. “Why? Have I offended you somehow?”

  “No, it’s just that you’re so… Wow.”

  Her smile warmed the room. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Please do. You’re a natural,” he assured her. “I may have to put you in one of our ads.” He was starting to wonder if someone had put her up to this. Maybe one of his partners? Either that or he should add another note in his black book after Lorna Sutton’s name: playful exhibitionist.

  “I love the gown,” she said softly, standing there, more exposed than not. She looked like a luscious dessert made of strawberries and whipped cream. Her breasts were milky white, the nipples pink tipped, and the delicate black material covering her blushing flesh looked like a lace doily. She’d already sucked all the air from his lungs, and she’d only been in the house a few minutes.

  It had happened that way before, too. He remembered their second date in haunting detail. It had stayed with him for months. They’d been like flowers and bees, unable to resist each other. He’d actually wondered if they’d been chosen by capricious gods to torment each other. Hell, they’d done it twice before they’d made it through his front door.

  Jamie walked over to her, wondering what would happen if he touched her now. Would they both catch fire?

  “VLL’s lingerie has never looked better,” he said, picking up her bag. He connected with her startling green gaze and drew a breath. “Now…how about a quick tour of the place.”

  She put her gown back together, but the damage to Jamie’s powers of reasoning had been done. Even when he concentrated he wasn’t much of a tour guide, but he did manage to point out that the great room where they were standing was a combination of kitchen, living and dining rooms, with a fireplace as the focal point. He showed her the French doors that led to the pool area, and after that he took her down the hallway and left her bag in the guest room, which also looked out on the pool. In the other direction was the third bedroom, which he’d converted to a workout room, and beyond that the master bedroom, which also had F
rench doors leading to the pool area.

  “Your house is charming,” she said, sounding a little skeptical, “but we may want to soften things for the interview. The African theme is a bit macho.”

  “African theme?” Jamie had to think. “You mean that wooden carving in the living room? The elephant plant stand?” It was Asian, according to the import store where he bought it.

  Lorna didn’t seem to have heard him. She was already on her way down the hallway toward his bedroom, and he had to stop and watch her go. It wasn’t that she swiveled. He wouldn’t call it swiveling, but her gown seemed to be moving in a different direction than her hips. Amazing. He hadn’t designed it with that effect in mind. It almost made him dizzy.

  He had no idea how he was going to be in the same house with her and not want to inhale her like a piece of cotton candy at the fair. He didn’t understand her at all, and the confusion felt as if it could do him in. But what a way to go.

  When he got into his bedroom, she was at his desk, studying the latest sketch on his pad. She actually reached out and touched the rendering with her fingers, and he could tell she was startled. She probably hadn’t believed he actually did design some of the pieces.

  “Jamie, look at this sketch!”

  He glanced over her shoulder at the model in her butter-yellow silk pantaloons and corset. His mind immediately went to how Lorna would look in the outfit with her lush breasts spilling out of the corset. Spectacular, he realized. She would look spectacular in anything.

  The idea for the old-fashioned cami-pajamas had come to him after one of his late-night discussions with Natori, who’d said that an undressed woman wasn’t nearly as sexy as a half-undressed woman. Jamie had thought about it, and agreed.

  “What do you think?” he asked Lorna. “I was going for a Tom Jones feel, the movie.”

  “What do I think?” She turned and pinned him with her big green eyes, pinned him like an insect. “I think it’s me. Look at that woman, and tell me she isn’t me!”