His Final Seduction

AN HOUR LATER, Quint was sitting in a plush leather chair in an equally plush office that made him antsy. He’d been summoned here by Taylor Milton herself, who’d just flown in on her private jet, and he couldn’t help wondering what he’d done wrong.

Taylor was thirty-four and looked exactly like what she was, an airline heiress. Five foot six, redheaded and sharp-eyed, a lithe package of ballerina grace and bulldog tenacity that had shot her to the top of an industry that had fallen on hard times. She’d taken her father’s plain vanilla commuter airline and turned it into the only adult-oriented airline/destination resort in the world. Quint had also noticed she was fair, but demanding. She wanted what she wanted when she wanted it. Nor was she a woman easily swayed by an easy grin. On that score, she reminded him of Jorgie.

As he sat there, his anxiety growing, his boss, Dougal Lockhart, walked through the door.

Uh-oh. The shit must have hit the fan if they were tag-teaming him. Quickly, he ran through his mind, trying to think how his behavior might have caused this meeting. The morality clause he’d signed for Eros forbade him from having sex with the guests, but it didn’t say a word about fellow employees. On his last tour here, he and Gwen, the woman who’d played the part of his Casanova conquest, had had a very good time together. Was that what this was about? He was enjoying his work too much?

Dougal stalked over and perched on the corner of Taylor’s desk.

“What’s up?” Quint asked, flashing his ready smile to abate his anxiety.

“Taylor’s received another threatening letter,” Dougal began. “And we’ve determined it was written on a computer at this resort. Unfortunately, it was from a computer in the Internet café, so anyone could have sent it.”

“There’s a log-in record,” Quint pointed out.

“Yes, but if the person leaves without signing out anyone can take their place and still be logged in under their name,” Taylor explained. “In fact, we suspect the perpetrator haunted the Internet café just waiting for someone who forgot to log out.”

Quint was getting the feeling someone had sent the e-mail under his name. He wracked his brain trying to think of the last time he’d used the Internet café. “So who did you trace it back to?”

“Gwen Kemp,” Dougal said.

“You think Gwen is in on the sabotage?”

Taylor shifted in her seat, picked up a pencil and drummed it against the top of her desk. “We don’t believe so. Dougal grilled her for over an hour and she does have airtight alibis for most of the sabotage incidents that have occured at the resorts over the course of the last several months.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here,” Quint said.

“But,” Dougal supplied, “we can’t take any chances, so Gwen has been suspended until we can determine who sent the e-mail under her address.”

“You might never find out.”

“We’ll find out,” Dougal said firmly. “This crap stops now.”

“I agree. You got a copy of the e-mail?”

Dougal pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and passed it to Quint. He unfolded it and read the vitriolic message.

No more pussyfooting around, Princess, this is it. You’re going down in a big way. After I get through with you, you’ll be standing in line for food stamps. You think those air marshals you hired as security for your planes and resorts can protect you? They haven’t done much good so far, have they? I’ll hit when and where you least expect it. Nothing can stop me. Ciao for now.

“This is personal,” Quint said.

Dougal nodded solemnly. “We need to be hypervigilant.”

“Of course.”

“There’s also the matter of Gwen’s replacement,” Taylor said. “We don’t have time to hire and train another actress to play the part of your love conquest for the Casanova course.”

“You’re ditching the class.” Quint sat up straighter in his chair.

“No,” Taylor said. “We have thirty-seven men signed up for your course. Enrollment has skyrocketed since you took over the class, Quint.”

“I told you he was a natural-born charmer,” Dougal said.

“He’s hot,” Taylor agreed. “You have that nice blend of boyish charm and manly audacity that women thrive on. If you weren’t working for Dougal, I’d hire you in a heartbeat.”

Quint felt a twin surge of pride and embarrassment. Truth was, he enjoyed playing Casanova, but he was also a bit sheepish about it. He shrugged. “Aw, shucks, ma’am, it’s nothing.”

“See, right there.” Taylor pointed. “That’s what I’m talking about. You know you’re handsome but you have a way about you that says you don’t take it too seriously.”

“Life’s too short to take it seriously.”

“Exactly.”

“So if you’re not replacing Gwen with a new actress and you’re not canceling the course, who is Casanova going to demonstrate his seduction techniques on?”

“Me,” Taylor said.

Quint gulped. The woman scared him. “You?”

“I’m very happily married,” Taylor said. “I’m immune to your charms.”

“Maybe,” Quint protested, “but Casanova’s romance is going to look like the put-up job it is if anyone recognizes you.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Dougal asked.

He thought of Jorgie. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

Taylor leaned back in her chair. “I’m all ears.”

“An old friend of mine just happens to be staying at the resort,” Quint said. “I’ve known her since we were teenagers. We’re just friends, it’s never been anything more, and she’s here nursing a broken heart. I think she’d be the perfect person to play Casanova’s conquest.”

“Hmm.” Taylor studied him pensively. “It’s a thought.”

“Do you think she’ll do it?” Dougal asked.

“I’m having dinner with her tonight. I’ll ask,” he said, searching for anything to keep from having to try out Casanova’s power of seduction on Taylor.