His Final Seduction

Honestly, she loved Jorgie like a sister, but the girl was so stuck in her ways. Sometimes it was as if she were hanging out with an anchor. She did feel a little badly for having ditched her at the airport the way she did, but it was for Jorgie’s own good. It was high time she started having adventures of her own without using Avery as a crutch.

She stood around with the rest of the passengers at the private airstrip, waiting for her baggage to be unloaded from the Eros jet, when she saw him step off the plane. He must have boarded earlier than she had and been sitting in the back of the plane, because she certainly didn’t remember ever seeing the guy before and he was not someone you could miss.

If this had been a movie, this would be the point where the director cued the sensual music and brightened the spotlight to focus solely on the devilishly broody-looking man stepping off the plane.

Everything about him was dark. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark look on his face.

Avery’s heart thumped. Dude, now here was a man.

He wore faded black jeans with a hole in the right knee, a black Nirvana T-shirt that had been washed one too many times. He had on scuffed, scarred military boots and the beard stubble at his jaw declared that he hadn’t bothered with a razor in days. Some men might come across as scruffy and unkempt in such attire, but this guy simply sizzled.

Avery felt an instant stirring in her womb. This one would make a fine baby daddy. Immediately, she slapped the snooze button on her biological clock.

The last thing she wanted was anything—or anyone—tying her down. You couldn’t be footloose with a diaper bag hanging off your shoulder and a kid on your hip. She was only twenty-six. She had a lot more living to do before she settled down. As the oldest of five children, with her baby sister thirteen years younger, she knew all too well how kids consumed your life.

She gave herself a mental shake, but she couldn’t stop staring at the guy. He possessed a keep-your-distance aura that made her itch to crowd his personal space. He stepped from her view behind a large man and it was only when she felt her shoulders sag that she realized how tense she’d been.

The attendants set suitcases on the tarmac and everyone gathered around to claim their luggage. Avery and Mr. Broody Loner reached for the same black travel bag at the same time. She got there first, but his hand quickly closed over hers.

His touch was warm and firm and disturbing. Goose bumps spread up her arm.

“That’s my bag,” he said, his deep, evocative voice underscoring the authoritative expression on his face. His rugged good looks produced a persona of unadulterated, masculine allure that could turn a vulnerable woman looking for a little excitement into a mindless pile of quivering flesh. Good thing she wasn’t the quivery, vulnerable type.

“No.” She stood her ground. “No, it’s not. That’s my bag.”

“It’s mine,” he said. “And I can prove it.”

Before she could react, he reached for the zipper and, in one smooth movement, unzipped the bag, just as she yanked on the handle. Immediately, an array of brightly colored thong panties, push-up bras, racy negligees and sex toys spilled out onto the tarmac.

Instantly, his face bloomed red. “Um…um…”

“It’s okay to say, ‘I’m wrong.’” Avery wrinkled her nose and tossed him a smug smile. If Jorgie were here she’d be mortified. As it was, Avery was having a bit of fun.

His mouth dropped open. “These…” He swept a hand at her sexy lingerie. “This is…”

“Mine,” she said firmly, not the least bit embarrassed to have the contents of her naughty drawer strewn around for everyone to see. She wasn’t ashamed of her sexuality. “And I do accept your apology, Mr….”

He laughed then, a rusty noise that sounded as if he didn’t use it often. “Stewart,” he said. “Jake Stewart.”

She stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Jake. I’m Avery, Avery Bodel.”

He shook her hand with a steady grip and the sweet zap to her solar plexus turned her inside out. “Sorry about unzipping your bag. I could have sworn it was mine.”

“Well, you know you’re going to have to make it up to me,” she said audaciously. No one had ever accused Avery of being subtle.

“Sure, sure.” He went down on one knee, started plowing through the plethora of panties, bras, teddies, camisoles and bustiers scattered over the ground. Red, black, white, green, purple. Silk, satin, lace. “You got stock in Victoria’s Secret?”

“I should, considering all the money I spend in their stores.”

“Do you have any regular clothes?”

“They’re in my garment bag.”

“Ah.” Gingerly, he picked up a vibrator, and then he met her gaze with one eyebrow cocked on his forehead.

“Don’t judge,” she said, and snatched it from him. “A girl doesn’t always have access to a fellow who’s ready, willing and able.” She was charmed to see the tops of his ears burn beet-red. She’d rattled a guy who seemed unshakeable.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Just because a woman can get a guy, it doesn’t mean she wants him.”

“Does anything embarrass you?” he asked.

“Not much.”

“Clearly,” he said, stuffing the last of her undergarments back in the bag and zipping it securely shut.

“I’ve decided how you’re going to make it up to me,” she said, enjoying this immensely.

He looked uneasy. “How’s that?”

“You’re taking me out to dinner tonight.” And with that parting remark, she gathered up her bags and sashayed away.

JAKE WATCHED HER GO, feeling as if he’d been caught in an avalanche.

Avery Bodel was a force of nature. She was too bold for his tastes. Too bold by half, but there was something about her that was compelling. It was in her sassy walk and her silk-smooth voice. He smelled it in her scent—earthy, spicy, real. He felt it on his skin where she shook his hand. Pure energy, forceful and compelling. And he saw it in the swing of her long dark purple hair and in that sassy little ink art peeking between the top of her low-rise jeans and the hem of her T-shirt.

The sight of that tattoo hardened his cock and startled the hell out of Jake. He hadn’t had such a powerful reaction to a woman in a long time. Not since Amanda had left him. Not since before Afghanistan.

At the thought of the war he’d left eighteen months ago, Jake grabbed up his bag filled with camera equipment and followed the rest of the group toward the waiting bus that would take them to the Eros resort nestled in the Hollywood Hills.

Normally, he didn’t let himself get distracted from his work, but a woman like her could make any man forget his own name. And he didn’t like it. Not one damned bit. He got the feeling she had only one speed and that was balls to the wall. He wondered if she slowed down for anything.

The idea of finding out held far too much appeal. He wasn’t about to take her out on a date. Miss Bodel was going to find herself sadly disappointed if she thought she could just say the word and he’d fall right into line. Obviously, she was accustomed to wrapping men around her little finger, but she hadn’t counted on Jake Stewart. Nobody told him what to do. Not anymore. Not since he’d left the air force.

What if she’s the saboteur who’d been messing around with Taylor Milton’s resorts?

Jake canted his head, watched her boobs bounce jauntily as she mounted the steps to the bus. His boss, Dougal Lockhart, had told him to suspect everyone. Guests, employees, even resort security. No one was above suspicion. And Jake was damned good at watching, which was why he liked looking at the world from behind the lens of a camera.

His talent at video photography was the reason why Dougal and Taylor had decided his skills would be best suited to an undercover assignment at the Hollywood resort, making people’s voyeuristic fantasies come true at the same time he provided undercover scrutiny for Eros.

Some of the other air marshals at The Lockhart Agency seemed to dislike their undercover assignments; Jake however, found himself enjoying the opportunity to go behind the camera and watch the world from that angle. He learned more from watching people than from conversing with them. Even when he was around others, being behind the camera gave him a sense of aloneness and privacy that he prized. It also allowed him the opportunity to process his feelings and impressions.

Could Avery Bodel be a saboteur? Nah, highly unlikely. She didn’t have a poker face. Or a poker body for that matter. He’d seen the flare of sexual interest in her eyes and he certainly noticed the way her nipples beaded under her bra when they’d touched. His instincts told him that with this woman, what you saw was what you got.

Then again, Samson never suspected Delilah and look what happened to him.

Forcing aside thoughts of the spunky Miss Bodel and her luscious body, Jake boarded the bus for the trip to the Eros resort.