Vicki Thompson - Drive Me Wild

She braced herself. “Only one?”

“Okay, more than one, but this certain one—let’s just say my buddy Josh got me to thinking, and I can’t get the question out of my head.”

“Is Josh the driver I met when you gave him a ride?”

“Yeah, when his limo broke down outside New Haven.”

Molly remembered a wiry guy with curly black hair. Josh always seemed to be in motion. “A high-energy type.”

“That’s the one. Anyway, you don’t have to answer, but if you could say yes or no, it would mean a lot to me.”

“You sound as if this has been keeping you up at night.”

Alec coughed. Then he coughed again, and the tips of his ears grew pink. “Uh, no, not really.”

She couldn’t make sense of his reaction until she replayed what she’d said. You sound as if this has been keeping you up at night. When she realized the potential double meaning, heat rushed to her face, too. “Wait a minute. I wasn’t trying to be—”

“Are you in the movies?”

Startled, she laughed. She was so not in the movies. Her parents had wanted that more than anything, and she’d tried. But an introverted little bookworm, no matter what she looked like on the outside, couldn’t expect to make it on the big screen, even with a stage-door mommy and a stage-door daddy.

“Are you?”

She smiled at him. This conversation was helping her case of nerves. “Well, you caught me. I’m not Molly Drake at all. I’m really Nicole Kidman trying to escape the paparazzi.”

“Um, I didn’t mean that kind of movie.”

“Then what—” Her mouth dropped open. Alec was asking her if she acted in adult videos.

“But I’ll bet Josh has it all wrong.”

At first she was insulted that Alec would think it was remotely possible that she was a porn star. He should know her better than that. Or should he? She hadn’t talked about herself, which left room for all kinds of speculation. Apparently Josh and Alec thought she looked sexy enough to act in those videos, which intrigued her. “You said I didn’t have to answer, right?”

“Of course you don’t have to answer, but—”

“So I’m not going to.” Then she watched the pink that had tinged his ears make its way over his entire face. Darting a glance into his lap, she discovered that the image of her as an X-rated video star was having quite an effect on him there, too.

His voice sounded strangled. “So you are.”

“I didn’t say that.” This was fascinating, and it definitely kept her mind off her anxiety-producing appointment with Benjamin.

“Yeah, but not answering is the same as answering.”

“Not necessarily.” She wondered what he’d do if she put a hand on his thigh, but she didn’t want them to have an accident.

“Now I wish I hadn’t asked.” He swallowed. “I thought you’d say no.”

“That’s no fun.”

“Oh, so you really aren’t, but you want me to think you are?”

Highly entertained, she continued to smile at him. “What do you think?”

He gripped the steering wheel and stared at the road ahead. “I think I just got myself into a heap of trouble.”

ALEC NEEDED A COLD SHOWER, but that wasn’t possible, so he casually adjusted the air-conditioning vent so it blew directly on his lap. He’d been worried that the X-rated video question would insult Molly, but at least then he’d have had his answer. She wasn’t insulted. She was taking the Fifth.

Even if he hadn’t studied law, he’d still know that anybody who refused to answer was most likely hiding something. So she really could be a star of those movies. He wasn’t proud of his reaction to the news, either. Damned if he wasn’t rising to the occasion.

She could also be teasing him. That concept didn’t improve his condition at all. A woman willing to kid around about something like that would be the kind of bed partner he’d always dreamed of, someone who liked to have fun with sex instead of making it into a serious business. She was either an X-rated movie star or a sexy little tease. Both possibilities had him so turned on he could barely drive the car.

But that’s what she was paying him to do, and he’d better stop fantasizing about her naked body or they’d find themselves in a ten-car pileup in Midtown. He glanced over at her, trying to decide if she was kidding him or not.

She just smiled, as if watching him squirm was giving her great pleasure. She certainly didn’t dress as if she made that kind of movie. Sure, her skirt was on the short side, but it belonged to a black silk suit that looked more Glamour than Playboy. His sister subscribed to Glamour, and she’d be very impressed with the outfit Molly was wearing.

Then again, an X-rated star wouldn’t necessarily dress the part when she wasn’t in front of the camera. Molly’s outfit didn’t tell him much except that she had good taste in clothes. Damn, he didn’t know what to think. And with a large portion of his blood draining south, he didn’t have much left to power his brain, anyway.

Somehow he managed to follow Molly’s directions and get her to the right address. He even remembered to give her his cell-phone number so that she could call him when she was finished. Then, like an idiot, he sat and watched her go into the building. If he hadn’t been startled out of his trance by blaring horns and New York–style swearing, he might have stayed right there until she showed up again.

Humbled by what a complete moron he’d turned into, he drove to the nearest parking garage, found a space and leaned back against the headrest with a sigh. He never should have asked her. Instead of satisfying his curiosity, she’d made herself more mysterious and fascinating than ever. His overheated brain buzzed with thoughts of Molly, sex kitten. Something told him he wouldn’t get much studying done in the next hour.

MOLLY SAT in the red leather chair in Benjamin’s office. Her manuscript, bound by a thin rubber band, lay on the desk between them. Benjamin gazed at her from behind his thick glasses. His gray hair was carefully combed. He wasn’t smiling.

Looking at him, Molly decided she didn’t want to talk about the manuscript. She might not ever want to talk about the manuscript. “It really feels like spring out there,” she said. “I didn’t even need a coat. Is it usually this warm in April?”

“Not usually. Listen, I’ve read your manuscript, and I—”

“I’ve never spent a whole summer in this area. I’m looking forward to walking on the beach, buying produce from roadside stands, getting a—”

“Molly, I’m sorry.”

She felt as if someone had shoveled ice cubes into her stomach. “The book, um, needs work?” She cleared her throat. “That’s okay. I can—”

“I wish I could believe that you can fix it.”

She stared at him. “Of course I can fix it! I’m a professional writer, so tell me what needs to be done, and I’ll do it.” Maybe this was a nightmare and she’d wake up. She pinched her arm, but nothing changed. She was still sitting in a chair across from a very sad-looking, gray-haired agent who didn’t like her book.

“I assume that you want this to be a hot read about a woman exploring her sexual fantasies.”

“Well, that’s sort of what I was going for.” And Benjamin didn’t think she’d pulled it off. She swallowed. Life didn’t get much more hideous than this, having a middle-aged man tell you that when it came to sex, you just didn’t get it. Benjamin’s blue eyes looked huge and filled with sympathy. She didn’t want sympathy. She wanted the New York Times bestseller list with Molly Drake in the top ten.

“It’s not sexy,” he said, putting an unnecessary point on what had been, up to now, merely hinted at.