Brief Encounters

“Disco Inferno” blared into its chorus and the repairman lifted his hands as if he were either surrendering the fort or waiting for her to do the honors. Swan quickly obliged, wondering what alien organism had taken control of her brain. She undid the brass button on his jeans and lowered his zipper.

“I can’t do this for you on the runway,” she said.

But then again, maybe she could. What a video clip that would be. It’s the middle of the fashion show and one of the models can’t get his costume off, so the designer goes up to help him? That could be a showstopper. Oh, my God, Lynne, come back. I’ve either had a flash of brilliance or I’m losing my mind.

His jeans were undone, but she still had the challenge of getting them over his tightly locked gluts. It took some tugging, but finally the denim material gave way and dropped to the floor. Unfortunately the stubborn jeans took her with them. Suddenly she found herself squatting right in front of him, staring at the bulge in person. But there was just one problem.

He wasn’t wearing her underwear. He wasn’t wearing anyone’s underwear!

It was a penis, Swan realized to her horror. The very thing she was trying to cover with her designs. No one should ever see a penis in one of her shows, especially one that looked suspiciously…alert?

Swan was just inches away from said organ, but she was still too shocked to do much of anything but gape. Worse, much worse, for some inexplicable reason, she was intrigued. Her whole body vibrated with a wild, unfamiliar emotion and for one crazy second in time she fought off a terrible impulse to touch it. Only to see how it felt. She wasn’t going to run a finger up and down the entire length of it or fondle it, for heaven’s sake. She was just curious.

The object of Swan’s fantasy suddenly twitched and a strangled sound slipped from her throat. Worse, her valiant attempts to speak resulted in nothing but helpless gurgles and groans. At that very moment the music room door opened and as if summoned by the Devil himself, Gerard poked his head in.

“Are you finished? Oh, I guess not!” He swiftly shut the door.

Swan knew how it must have looked. And sounded, given the obscene noises she’d been making. She would never hear the end of this. At least the music had stopped. She wasn’t sure when that had happened. Now she needed to get up off her knees so she could climb to the top floor of the mansion and jump out the window.

The model offered a hand, but Swan didn’t dare. He was bottomless and parts of him were still winking at her. What in the world was wrong with him? Did his privates have some neurological disorder?

“Ma’am? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said, turning away from him to get to her feet. Once she’d managed that, she slapped smooth her bunched-up capris and straightened her top.

Without turning around she said, “I guess there’s no point in getting you some underwear and starting this audition over?”

“No, probably not. I don’t dance.”

“You don’t wear underwear, either. So then, why exactly are you here?”

“To fix the phone?”

She glanced over her shoulder at the decidedly virile specimen with his jeans around his ankles. “You really are a telephone repairman?”

“Afraid so,” he said.

“Oh, my God.”

“Can I put my pants on now?” he asked.

What had she done? Swan had no idea what the correct etiquette was in a situation such as this. Should she go back and pull his pants up for him? Should she beg his forgiveness? Luckily, the repairman wasn’t concerned about manners. He bent down, grabbed his jeans and shimmied back into them. As he retrieved his tool belt, a flood of apologies began pouring forth from Swan’s mouth. She wondered if she and Lynne could be sued for something like this! That was all she needed. A sexual harassment charge.

“Could I give you some underwear?” she offered. “A lifetime supply?” Now she was bribing him. Were there laws against that?

“What fun would that be?” he replied in a tone that was wickedly soft.

She searched his handsome face, looking for signs of mercy and compassion. “Fun? Oh, right! That wouldn’t be any fun at all.”

Was that a flicker of amusement in his cool blue eyes? She couldn’t tell. She was momentarily distracted by the striking contrast of the dark hair falling onto his forehead and his faintly arched brows. She would have given anything to know if he was attracted to her. His body seemed to like her well enough, but maybe that was an aberration. She didn’t usually have that effect on men.

He picked up his tool belt and draped it over his shoulder. “Maybe you should point me to your office,” he said, “and I’ll make myself useful. Someone reported a phone problem.”

Swan wasn’t aware of any such problem, but Lynne or Gerard could have called it in. “Through that door and down the hall to your right,” she said. “You can’t miss it. There’s a life-size poster of a local lifeguard in Brief Encounters. We wanted Vin Diesel, but—”

He was already heading for the door. “I am so sorry,” she called after him. “I thought you were one of the models. Really, I did! Sir?”

He hesitated, and she immediately thought better of the question that had been in her head since she’d been on the floor in front of him. Is that normal for you? I mean, in a resting state, is that normal?

“Never mind,” she said, waving him on. “I just, uh, well—I’m sorry about that twitching problem. I have a nervous condition myself.”

He turned around with a glint in his eye that was positively demonic. “Nerves don’t make me twitch,” he said. “Women do—and you should be sorry.”

His voice was dangerously low and husky, and she had the feeling he didn’t often give women the once-over quite so boldly. His hot gaze brushed her body, lingering here and there—especially there, as if he were imagining her with her pants down and him on his knees. Her belly clutched deeply. Her skin had begun to flush and tingle, and by the time his eyes returned to hers she was actually trembling inside. It was a sensation she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Swiftly another sensation came upon her. She had to pee! She crossed her ankles and smiled as best she could under the circumstances.

He must have noticed because he snorted low laughter. “Maybe we had both better get back to work?” he suggested. And with that he was gone.

Swan groaned and headed for the bathroom, which was just off the music room, fortunately. Her face was still ablaze with embarrassment, but at least she would get a moment alone to collect herself.

From behind she heard Gerard call out, “Oh, Swaaan…”

She stopped dead in her tracks, whirled around and pointed her finger at him. “Not a word, Gerard. Not one word from you.”

“Whatever you say,” he murmured.

Swan thought she heard a reference to “Deep Throat” as she dashed into her sanctuary and shut the door. She didn’t have to see her beastly assistant to know that he was grinning from ear to ear.

ROB GAINES should not have been smiling. He had work to do. He shouldn’t have been thinking about her, either, but short of a drug-induced coma, he didn’t see that happening. How often did an incredibly hot redhead sidle up to a man, pull down his pants and drop to her knees in front of him? At a moment like that there wasn’t a whole lot else to think about except what she was planning to do next, with her breath so steamy hot and her gorgeous mouth just inches from his—

The twinge of near pain in his groin brought him back to his senses.

Gaines, stop smiling or you’re going to permanently injure yourself.

He pulled a pair of needle-nose pliers and went to work. But as he played with the phone, his thoughts veered back to her. Too bad he couldn’t sign up for dance lessons. She could teach him how to dip and he could teach her what happens when curious little girls play games with big boys.

He could imagine reaching around to undo all that wild redness she kept piled on top of her head and letting it fall loose around her shoulders. He could also imagine kissing her gorgeous lips until they were wet with desire.

He could imagine a few other things, too, but his jeans were getting crowded again—and he had work to do. A mission to accomplish. Quickly. Before anyone had a chance to walk in and interrupt him.

2

SWAN HAD ALL OF NINETY seconds to herself in the bathroom before her cell phone rang. She considered ignoring it but remembered Lynne had promised to call, and she needed to talk to her partner. If it turned out to be someone else, they would just have to listen to her tinkle.

Swan hit the talk button, but didn’t even get to say hello.

“Can you spell yacht?” Lynne Carmichael sang out. “I’m on his yacht, Swan! Gvon Marcello’s yacht! We’re heading out to sea in a matter of minutes.”