He rode the elevator back up and stalked into the penthouse suite in a towering fury. No way. No fucking way was some half-pint redheaded writer going to screw him half to death and then dump his sorry ass. He threw his suitcase onto his bed and tossed his things into it. If it was a war she wanted, he’d fucking well give her one. And when he got her alone next time, she wasn’t going anywhere.
He jammed his feet into his shoes with a muffled curse. And he barely caught sight of his naked chest in the hall mirror before he headed out the door half-naked and still in a lather. He snatched a shirt from the mess in his suitcase. Damn her. Damn all women to hell. No. Just her. Yeah. He had a better punishment in mind for her.
Chapter Four
Phyllis was on the stair machine when Sam arrived at the gym and the curious, avid look the woman gave her made her blush. “It’s okay, Phyllis. He isn’t going to sue. But I agreed to stop using the name and the face. The series ends with the one currently in edits.”
The woman pursed her lips and asked thoughtfully, “And what else did you give him for his kindness?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. Just dinner and a drink.” Her face turned a darker pink.
“You are a lousy liar,” Phyl snorted, shaking her head.
She sure as hell was. She had gone back to her apartment this morning in a mental and physical haze, too confused and dazed to think straight. The amazing night she’d spent in his bed, on his floor, in his shower and other places that she blushed to recall had left her virtually exhausted, in more ways than just one. She swallowed hard and licked her dry lips, trying to appear casually calm. But the calm fizzled as she stared at the console in front of her and tried to focus on a climbing routine.
“He was my dream come true…” Sam’s soft voice died off as a tear slid down her cheek.
And what a dream. She could never have imagined what it would feel like to be in such strong arms, moving in sensuous rhythm with a body that far surpassed even her most heated dreams. To feel the hot, deep movement of his body inside hers as he made her forget everything except his touch, his mouth, his hands, his marvelous ability to make every delicious little dream come to life. What a pathetic ninny she was.
Phyllis stared at her and then said quietly, “You are madly in love with the man and you only met him yesterday.”
Shaking herself back to the moment, she shook her head. “Wrong. I met him when I was fourteen and terrified of life after the accident. He kept me happy for the last twelve years and I owe him my life and my success. That man was my lifeline and he wasn’t even aware that I existed.” She started moving and almost tripped over her own feet.
Her business manager just stared at her. “So, where is your lifeline now?”
“Probably disembarking in Milwaukee, getting ready for a show.” She shrugged and focused on her program. “I left him in his hotel suite this morning.” And she was still berating herself mentally for doing that.
“You walked away from that gorgeous hunk? Are you out of your pea-pickin’ mind? You let that man just walk away?” Her business manager stared at her as if she’d just gone bonkers.
Sam shook her head. “He was my dream. You can’t hold onto a dream. You have to let it go, or it will just fade into nothing.” I think. Too late now. The die had been cast and he was gone forever. Stupid.
Phyllis stared at her with her mouth hanging open then seemed to decide to keep silent. “There went one hell of an impressive ad campaign,” she murmured.
“About time you decided to honor us with your presence, Braza!” Frank exploded when David stepped into his manager’s hotel room at the Milwaukee Hilton later that afternoon.
He was in no fucking mood to listen to another tirade about how he owed his manager his very existence. It was getting old. Way old. “I don’t expect you to understand, so I won’t bother to explain.” David shrugged and walked to stare out the window at the traffic below.
“How’d it go with that broad? She kick out some money?”
“Yeah but I’m not going to accept any of it.” David turned back from the window and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets.
“You’re shitting me, right?” Frank’s jaw dropped.
David shook his head and his eyes met the faded blue gaze of the older man. “No, I’m not. We had a long talk and she agreed to stop using my face and my name. I got a lot of free publicity out of those books. Just let me handle it.” It was a lie but he had no intention of confiding his real plans to Frank. His plans for Samantha Hastings had nothing to do with forgetting about anything. He planned on full vengeance. But not for the fucking books.
Frank stared in open shock at his star client, his jaw working soundlessly. When he finally managed to form a coherent sentence, he shouted, “Are you crazy? You let that broad get under your goddamn skin in just one night?” Black eyes seriously challenged his tone and he cleared his throat, suddenly conciliatory. “Look, you’ll forget her in a week. You’ll get your head together and you’ll decide you want that money.”
David stared at the older man without comment on his thoughts for the future. Forget Samantha Hastings? Fat chance of that-double entendre intended. Green eyes flashed in his thoughts. Her long, slim legs wrapped around his body as she let him know exactly how well pleased she was with his every touch. No faked response there. Forget her? Frank had no friggin’ idea what the hell he was talking about.
It left a sour taste in his mouth to think that she had played him for a jackass, using that incredible little Mata Hari body and that sweetly innocent smile to make a fucking sap out of him. And he had fallen for it. Settle with her? For money? No, it wasn’t her money he wanted. He wanted far more than money.
David just shrugged and sauntered out of his manager’s room without another word to find his own suite. Let Frank think that. He knew exactly what he wanted. He would flush her out and drag her back if it took every damn dirty trick he knew. He wasn’t going to let her get away with using him, then dumping his ass. No way.
Phyllis was sitting at her desk when Sam stepped into the office. She raised her eyes from the pile of paperwork and smiled broadly. “Well, the book sale receipts for March are in and you and I are both a whole lot richer.” She stretched her arms over her head and kicked her feet up onto the edge of her desk. “So, what is our next project, since you don’t plan to continue with the series?”
Sam returned her smile guiltily. Not being able to write more in the series about her dream man was seriously cramping her style. Book six in the series was in edits, but there would be no book seven. She had seriously tried to write a totally different hero. It had so far been fruitless. She hadn’t managed to put ten words on paper since that night in his hotel room.
Every time she tried to think up a new hero for a new book, she would be assailed by the memory of dark, slumberous eyes that could almost see through her soul. Hands that cupped and teased and heated her body until she almost orgasmed just thinking about them. A hard, sensuous body moving over hers in an erotic dance that melted her body and mind into putty, and lips that left her breathlessly aching for still more wicked pleasure.
“I’m sorta up against a brick wall here, Phyl. I’ve genuinely tried to work up another hero and build other plots. I’m just…stuck!” She twisted her hands irritably into the hem of her sweater, frustration eating at her. “I seriously can’t write another book right now.”
Phyllis’ jaw dropped and her face went pale. “You can’t be serious. I have advance sales posting on book six, and we owe your publisher another book before end of year. I don’t care what the hell you write about. Just write, for Pete’s sake! You can’t dump your career just because you can’t write about one guy!”