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  Rob raised an eyebrow, masking his annoyance.

  “Shouldn’t those little shorts of yours be leather?” she teased.

  Rob shook his head. “Too much resistance.”

  Anita giggled and coyly slapped him on the shoulder. “You bad boy,” she squealed. “How come you and I never got it on?”

  “I like my women a little more cloistered.” And a lot less full of silicone.

  “You mean like a girls’ school. Ooooh, there’s a fantasy.” Anita wrinkled her forehead. “I had a boyfriend who liked threesomes. But really, he just liked to lie back and watch. I started thinking maybe he was impotent so I dumped him.”

  “Maybe he needed a good spanking,” Rob suggested dryly.

  Anita struck a pose and repeated the line from one of her movies. “Hurry up and hurt me better, stud!” She slapped her firm butt. “This is what keeps me in business, you know. Guys just love to see this thang get pink.”

  “You keep up the good work, Anita.” An unwelcome memory of that movie scene, watched because of the LeatherWorks’ leather and fur paddle product placement, flashed through his head. “I have to get ready for dinner.”

  “You can eat with me. Or on me,” she said with a wink.

  “Unfortunately,” Rob said, grateful for the ready-made excuse, “I promised to treat my staff. What brings you here this year?”

  “Haven’t you heard? I’m the new poster girl for Villani Cosmetics.”

  “Congratulations!” Maybe this would get her out of the “acting” business for good. He was always glad when one of the women in the industry climbed out. Villani had once been a porn queen herself.

  Rob gave Anita a gentle hug, hoping she wouldn’t do anything else X-rated considering all the families around the pool. They were going to get a rude awakening when the convention got into full swing tomorrow night. This pool with its swim-up bar was going to be chock-full of all kinds of wildness.

  * * * * *

  Melanie put a hand to her mouth, trying to suppress an early morning yawn as she went to open the front door for Tommy Joe. She had not been looking forward to the drive to SeaTac airport with her rival. She visualized Tommy Joe in a cloak, swirling a pointy black mustache through his fingertips. No, the image didn’t work for him. He was more the collarless suit-wearing, cat-petting type of bad guy. Would a wild woman sleep with someone like that?

  She visualized herself spread out on a sixties-style conference table from one of those movies as she opened the door.

  Tommy Joe, resplendent in dark suit and tie, looked at her quizzically. “You seem out of breath. Are you all right?”

  “No, I mean yes, I’m fine,” Melanie said ruefully, trying to get rid of the image of Tommy Joe as a Bond movie bad guy.

  He offered her a tiny smile. She shivered. It was the second smile in a few days. He must be warming up to her—or moving in for the kill.

  Tommy Joe cleared his throat. “I hear you got a divorce.”

  Melanie’s mouth dropped open. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. Just that you’re on your own now.”

  Melanie felt her jaw tighten. “Yeah, I am and I like it.” An independent woman needed a man like she needed a hole in her nylons. Her security was in her job and the rest was just about fun. Have mortgage payment, have independence.

  Tommy Joe ignored her statement of defiance as he checked out her yard, freshly mown by the college student next door but browned by the August heat. “Remember when you and your husband had a barbecue a couple of years ago? I met him then.”

  “Ex-husband,” Melanie corrected automatically. “I’d forgotten that party.” It had not been a memorable occasion, but the fight she’d had with Gerald afterward had certainly been one for the books. He had been concerned she was investing too much time in her job and with her coworkers and not enough in him. Gerald had been right. The career had survived that time and the marriage hadn’t. If only it didn’t look like the career was now in jeopardy too.

  Tommy Joe insisted on carrying her bags to his car for her. The drive was slow through rush hour traffic. Melanie’s mind was awhirl. In the next few days, could she find the key to saving her job? And what about Tommy Joe? Could he be her soul mate? She ought to experiment with trusting him and try to have a great time getting to know him. He was awfully good looking.

  Melanie batted her eyelashes flirtatiously at Tommy Joe. “So what are your career plans? Are you going to work at your brother’s company some day?”

  “I’m happy where I am.”

  “Why? It sounds like we’re going downhill fast.”

  Tommy Joe reached over and patted her knee. Melanie scooted over to the passenger-side door and tugged her navy skirt as far down her thighs as it would go. Eyelashes were powerful things. She must control them.

  “Don’t worry, Melanie. Things will get better. And besides, even if they don’t, you’ve got plenty of options.”

  “I do?” She tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

  “Sure. You could get another job, or get married again.”

  Oh yeah, what great options. “I’d rather keep this job, thank you. I like it.”

  “I’ve always had a lot of respect for you. And I’ve always hoped that, you know, you’d notice me a little more.”

  Was that a wistful note in his voice? Maybe she should have gone soul mate shopping sooner. On the other hand, he was putting off sexist pig vibes. “Why, Tommy Joe, you’ve always been so quiet. I had no idea you felt that way.”

  “Now you do.”

  Melanie’s mind wandered off in the awkward pause after his statement. She wondered if she had packed enough sunscreen, considering how brief most of her clothes were. She had spent much of her free time this summer bent over her sewing machine making herself a new sexy wardrobe.

  “I did a lot of work for my brother when he was a salesman for a housing development in Plano,” Tommy Joe said out of the blue.

  “Why did he leave that business?” Melanie asked, to be pleasant.

  “He didn’t think it was stable enough. He made a lot of money then decided to quit before the bottom dropped out.”

  “I hope the market is safe here. Most of my divorce settlement is in my house.” Without a job, she would have to sell the house and live off the proceeds. She had moved straight from her parents’ home to Gerald’s. Late at night, she sometimes worried about her coping skills. That was why she had decided to turn over a new leaf and take nothing seriously but her job.

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine. You have a nice property. Lots of lawn and four bedrooms, two full baths, right?”

  “How did you know that?” His precision made her nervous. And it suited what Madame Lois had told her about her soul mate.

  “You get an eye for it.” His tone was bland.

  Maybe he was after her divorce settlement. If so, he was in for a rude surprise when he learned the extent of it.

  They pulled off the freeway and drove to a Fly and Ride on International Boulevard. “Here we are,” Tommy Joe said. “Are you ready?”

  “For anything,” Melanie muttered to herself then smiled faintly at Tommy Joe. The conference certainly wouldn’t be dull.

  * * * * *

  Al Plowman yawned and rolled over in bed. The sun coming through the dormer windows always woke him early on summer mornings. When he had dated Anita, the bright sun signaled hot morning sex, perfect for his forty-four-year-old testosterone levels. Now, at six a.m., his body signaled go but his new girlfriend was leaving for work.

  “Where are you going, babe?” He patted her side of the bed sleepily. “Come back and kiss your Papa Bear.”

  “No, silly. I do not want to be late. Today is big day.”

  Al sat up, plumping a couple of pillows behind him. “Why is this a big day, Tida?”

  “Because I will quit today.”

  “You’re quitting your job?” Why did he always have to find the ones with the crazy ideas? His e
x-wife would have said that it was because of where he met his women, but he couldn’t hit on the college girls at his local Starbucks, they were his neighbors’ kids, so he went to singles’ bars. And dance clubs, some a little on the seedy side.

  Tida finished brushing her long dark hair and started to braid it. He loved her hair and her exotic looks. Those slim but curvy bodies were the best. He was a man in love with the line of a hip, not breasts. She offered no more than a taste in that department, but a loud, satisfying ride in every sense nevertheless.

  “Why are you going to quit?” he asked again, rubbing his face. She had a habit of ignoring him.

  “I need to make more money. For my sister’s school.”

  That was a relief at least. He thought she was going to announce plans to move in with him. He didn’t need her household services. He had a cleaning lady and always ate out.

  “Where are you going to work?”

  “I thought I take job at that club you like, the man one.”

  “You’re going to be a waitress? Surely a nurse’s aide makes more than that.”

  “No, I talk to a girl who works there when we went last week. Waitresses make good money. But dancers, they make great money.”

  “No, Tida!” He clenched the white sheet in his fists. “That’s unacceptable!”

  Tida finished her braid and tossed it over her shoulder. He loved the way she tossed her mane. So sexy, so arrogant. He loved to tame her in bed.

  “Why, am I not good enough for you then? I think not. You date dancers before.”

  “And I was a laughingstock at the office! I don’t want to go through that again.”

  Tida turned to him, her eyes shrewd. “Then maybe we get married.”

  The palms of his skin went clammy. “No. I won’t marry you.”

  She stood up. “Fine. I quit hospital job and go be dancer.”

  “Stop, let’s think about this.” Al pushed back the covers in disgust, his morning erection long wilted. He grabbed his robe then sat down on the vanity stool and reached for Tida’s hand. She let him take it but stood stiffly.

  “How about this. You keep your job.”

  “That is no solution. I need money for my sister’s school.”

  “Yes, Tida, I understand that. But listen to this. My company is planning to buy out LeatherWorks.”

  “The company with the Whipmaster ads?”

  “Yes. How do you know that?”

  Tida giggled. “The Whipmaster is cute.”

  Al raised his eyes heavenward. “They also have ads with female models. And I happen to know they’re holding auditions in Las Vegas this week.”

  “Oh?” Comprehension dawned in Tida’s eyes.

  “Modeling would be a lot classier than dancing, right? No one could object to that. And you have the body for it.”

  Tida smiled. “I think I will go to Las Vegas today.”

  “But what about your job?”

  “You do not own me if you do not marry me. But you have good idea. I go to Las Vegas today.”

  “But what if you don’t get the job?”

  She smiled at him. “Oh Al, I get the job. You call the company president. You refuse to buy the company if I do not get the job.”

  “I can’t do that,” he protested. “It’s not my deal.”

  “You still want girlfriend? You want hot lover in your bed?”

  Al realized it was useless to protest unless he wanted to start prowling the clubs for another woman. He nodded, tense but determined. “I’ve met a VP named Jack O’Brien. He can help us.”

  Tida nodded with satisfaction. “Good. Can you lend me money for a ticket?”

  “For Christ’s sake, Tida. I’m not made of money.”

  Tida ran a long, red-tipped finger down his chest, pulling apart his robe. “You know I please you, Daddy Bear?”

  “Papa Bear,” he corrected.

  She took his moan for acquiescence and indeed it was.

  Chapter Three

  After an hour on the plane with Tommy Joe’s white-knuckled silence Melanie could be quiet no more. She thought of a great way to distract him from his obvious fear of flying. “There’s another conference going on at our hotel. An adult conference.”

  “What do you mean?” Tommy Joe opened and shut his mouth like a fish.

  The air pressure must be getting to him and in a most unattractive way too. Distraction was a good plan. “I mean a few thousand members of the sex industry will be sharing our hotel with us.”

  Tommy Joe didn’t return her sly grin. Great, he had no sense of humor. Well, he was young. He looked about twenty-four, certainly younger than her twenty-eight years.

  “Do you think Al will be impressed if we come back with a business plan for a line of erotic massage oils? What’s in the market right now is ridiculously overpriced. I’m sure we could do better. We can do consumer research in Vegas and it won’t cost him a dime!”

  Tommy Joe frowned.

  Melanie ignored his skeptical face and stared at the blue patterned seat ahead of her. Coming up with something like this might save her job. “Let’s see, we could call it Love Lotions.” She glanced at him.

  Tommy Joe was busy clutching the armrest.

  “Are you okay?”

  Tommy Joe swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly in his throat. “I hate flying.”

  “I’m not a big fan either. But it gets better.”

  “It does?” He turned to her.

  “Yeah. Eventually you land.”

  Tommy Joe closed his eyes for a second then smiled wryly. “Good point.”

  When they touched the ground in Vegas, Tommy Joe sighed deeply and relaxed his shoulders. They walked off the plane into pandemonium.

  Two seconds in Vegas was all you needed to see how completely gambling ruled the town. There were banks of slot machines promising “Super Jackpot” in the center of the terminal and every other free spot. Bright colors and neon greeted the city’s new initiates and the sounds of coins hitting the metal coin drops were seductive. Judging from the number of people sitting on the fake leather chairs in front of the machines, slot machine makers had done incredibly successful market research into what machine designs attracted people. Maybe Professional Massage needed some new packaging?

  As they pushed through the crowd, a woman ran up to one of their fellow passengers and gave her a hug. “I won forty dollars while I was waiting for you!” she said with a huge grin. Geez, Melanie thought. I usually just bring a book when I’m waiting in airports. She had to stop being so boring.

  After finding the shuttle van with much difficulty due to the lack of signage, they were transported to the Strip. It surprised her that they would have to pay for their ride when the hotels were so close you could see them from the airport. She had thought everything was free or cheap in Vegas.

  It had been August outside, but the instant they reached the hotel lobby, the air conditioning hit, along with the goose bumps.

  “Hold on, Tommy Joe,” Melanie called. He was zooming ahead of her like an impatient puppy, eager to see the noisy sights of the casino. She pushed her suitcase against a wall and dug into it until she found the fitted suit jacket that went with her short skirt.

  ‘Here, let me.” Tommy Joe said, dropping his heavy suitcase. He chivalrously helped her shrug into the jacket then stepped back with a smile. Someone had taught him nice manners, but that didn’t match up with the devil-man profile.

  “Thanks.” The lining warmed her immediately. She picked up her suitcase and followed Tommy Joe into the maze of the main casino floor.

  Her heart sank when she saw how long the line was to check in. She’d never seen a hotel with velvet-roped lines to walk through just to sign in for a room. “Why don’t we wait to register? I’m starving!”

  “Why don’t I check us in? There’s no need to have us both stand here.”

  “Are you sure?” Melanie asked.

  “Go ahead. Meet me back here in half an hour.
I should just be getting through the line then.”

  Melanie gave him her biggest smile. “I owe you!” She skirted another slot machine pit and went behind the show desk. While hunting for the snack bars and restaurants, she found a bank of elevators. She might as well scout around the adult trade show a bit and try to come up with product ideas before she became busy with her own conference.

  Oh sure, Melanie. Be honest. You just want to get a look at what’s going on up there. The epitome of wild and crazy was happening on the other end of the elevator shaft.

  She walked onto the elevator with a black transvestite in full Marilyn Monroe get-up, two women in outfits consisting of more sequins than cloth, three people with tongue studs, one with a black leather Elvis ’68 outfit and two Goth types with thigh high black boots and matching purple leather minidresses.

  “It’s the Magellan sisters!” a woman with three eyebrow piercings and Elvira hair whispered.

  “Who are they?” Elvis ’68 asked in a throaty voice.

  “You know,” the woman said with wide eyes, “Once Around the World Slowly.”

  The sisters stared stonily ahead, apparently not in the mood for fans.

  The air in the cramped elevator filled with musky perfume. Melanie was relieved when the doors opened and she could breathe again.

  As she looked into the sea of people, she had second thoughts about this adventure. Her stomach rumbled. She was unlikely to find food here amidst the fuck-me shoe collections, silk-covered handcuffs and personal pleasure products. But another elevator regurgitated its load and she was swept into the foyer.

  Melanie had never seen such a varied crowd in her life, even in Seattle’s University District when she went to school there. She made a mental note to invest in hair spray companies after estimating that the product stock must have been annihilated within ten miles of the Strip to manage so many people’s long flowing locks.

  She walked through the crowd, mesmerized by the scene and the varied noise of slot machines and forgot her stomach. The look of the conventioneers appeared to be hair, piercings and brief yet uncomfortably binding fashion. She realized she had found a market for her company’s basic massage product line. If she came up with a fresh marketing plan for the old offerings, maybe she could increase her chances of keeping her job.