Lori Wilde - His Final Seduction

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.

He felt an itch to take a camera from the bag and start filming Avery, just so he could figure out what he thought about her. He splayed a palm to the back of his neck. Stop thinking about her. He had a job to do and he didn’t let anything get in the way of his work. Not even a delicious morsel like Avery.

They arrived at the resort and got checked in. Jake enjoyed seeing the guests’ reaction to the over-the-top glitz and glamour of the resort. It put him in mind of an R-rated version of the MGM Grand in Las Vegas. Lavish fountains, sexy movie posters, provocative music piped in through the sound system, clips of erotic scenes being played out on television monitors scattered throughout the resort. As guests checked in, 9 1/2 Weeks was on.

He walked up to Avery, who was in line for the registration desk. “About that date—”

“Pick me up at eight,” she said. “And take a razor to your chin. I’m not a fan of stubble burn.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy as hell?”

“All the time.” She batted her lashes.

“Yeah, well, this dog doesn’t jump when you snap your fingers. Sorry, I’m otherwise occupied. I can’t make the date.”