His Final Seduction

She locked eyes with the woman and the life-changing events of the last few weeks washed over her. Getting dumped by Brian for essentially being too timid, getting passed over for a promotion at work because she wasn’t aggressive enough (a direct quote from her boss), the decision to take Avery’s advice and sign up for an erotic fantasy vacation, unexpectedly meeting Quint Mason and then discovering he was on her flight. Was it kismet? Was serendipity at work here? Had the universe converged to plant her in this spot at this time under these conditions for a reason?

Jorgie wasn’t fanciful. She was an accountant. A cruncher of numbers. She liked things that made sense, and this romantic notion of destiny defied logic. And yet, here she was with the cosmic dominoes all lined up. Did she have the courage to knock them down?

“Miss?” the gate agent asked. “Are you boarding?”

It was now or never. Time to prove she could be bold and daring, or forever accept her fate as a shy, conventional woman who could never attract the attention of someone like, say…Quint Mason.

Jorgie raised her chin and slapped her ticket into the gate agent’s hand. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I am.”

2

Keep your heart unfettered and your fingers nimble

—Make Love Like Casanova

WELL, WELL, WELL, little Jorgie Gerard had grown up quite nicely.

From his seat in the back of the plane, Quint Mason watched her board the Eros Air Bombardier CRJ200. She moved up the aisle, her carry-on bag clutched in her hand. His gaze tripped lightly over her lush curves. She hadn’t possessed a body like that thirteen years ago. He would have remembered.

Spellbound, he simply stared. The front of her silky, powder-blue blouse dipped, revealing just a hint of cleavage, but it was enough to cause instant sweat to bead on the back of his neck in the confines of the expensively decorated aircraft. She stopped a few rows ahead of him and looked down to double-check her seat assignment, and then she looked up again.

A ray of sunshine slanted through the open portal window, casting her in a bright surreal splash of yellow. For a whisper of a second, he could have sworn he heard harp music and the sound of angels singing. The woman who used to be his best friend’s shy little sister was bathed in a whole new light.

Her straight, chestnut-brown hair—swept back off her neck in a demure ponytail—glinted with red highlights. His fingers itched to reach up and pull that band from her hair and watch it tumble about her shoulders. She wore a knee-length skirt that was a darker shade of blue than her blouse and blue, matching sandals decorated with pink flowers. She looked like exactly what she was—the girl-next-door all grown up. The kind you took home to meet your parents. Marriage material. He’d do well to steer clear.

But even as the light shifted, dimmed, Quint couldn’t take his eyes off her and he didn’t know why.

Familiarity. She reminds you of a simpler time. That’s all. A missive from your past.

Still, his heart skipped a beat. That was odd. Usually the only time his heart misfired was when he drove his Corvette too fast or danced the tango or made love all night long. She was pretty, hell yeah, but certainly nothing extraordinary. Nothing to make him feel like this.

Still, there was something about the way she carried herself that clutched his gut and narrowed his focus to only her. She possessed a quality that called to something primal inside him. One thought snapped through his head hot as electricity.

Gotta have her.

Stupid, that impulse. It could lead nowhere but to big trouble. Quint lowered his eyelids, smiled slowly.

She sucked in her breath. He heard it all the way down the aisle. Quickly, she turned, reached for the overhead bin. In this private jet the bins were more lavish than on commercial liners, but she struggled to get her suitcase stuffed in.

Quint hopped from his seat. In one long-legged stride he was beside her. “Here, let me help you with that.”

For a second, she looked as if she might argue with him, but when he reached for the handle, she let go just as his fingers touched hers. He caught a whiff of her delicate perfume. And he was jonesing for something sweet.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice soft as a caress.

He was aware of a humming noise inside his brain, fraught with sexual energy. He stared at her lips, full and pink and shiny with gloss. His heart skipped another beat. What was the deal here? Was he developing a heart condition?

Frowning, Quint ripped his gaze from her distracting lips and fell into the pool of her deep blue eyes. He just stood there staring, her suitcase raised over his head, the bag braced against the cargo bin and his forearms.

Snap out of it, Mason. A woman hadn’t left him this thunderstruck since high school.

“Is there a problem?” She lifted a hand to push back a tendril of hair from her face, the pink bracelets at her wrist jangling as they brushed against each other.

“Um…” Do something, don’t just stand there. The aisle was clogging up behind her. Immediate, he shoved her suitcase into the overhead bin and clicked it closed.

“Thank you,” she said, then sat down and snapped on her seat belt. She picked up the in-flight magazine and started flipping through it.

Not knowing what else do, he mumbled, “You’re welcome,” and went back to his seat.

Still feeling a bit off balance by the intensity of his attraction, Quint settled into his seat and mentally pried his mind off Jorgie and put it where it belonged.

On his job.

He was an air marshal on private security detail for the Lockhart Agency. For the last ten weeks, he and his fellow air marshals had been on assignment for Eros Airlines and Fantasy Adventure Vacations. The company’s catchphrase was Something Sexy In The Air, and they specialized in catering to a high-end clientele that didn’t mind spending money indulging their passionate sides.

But over the course of the past several months, the airline’s owner, Taylor Milton, had gotten anonymous threatening letters at the same time someone had been sabotaging her four international resorts. She’d been reluctant to take her problems to the police and risk adverse publicity. To keep things discreet, she’d hired the Lockhart Agency to protect her interests.

The air marshals were undercover, both on the planes and at the resorts. Quint’s cover identity was an instructor at the Venetian resort, teaching a daily course in How To Make Love Like Casanova. This was his third stint at the assignment. Quint had to admit he’d had a helluva good time, instructing men on how to be great lovers and flirting with the ladies to show off his skills. The only major drawback to the setup was the morality clause he’d been obligated to sign. No sex with the guests. For a sensualist like Quint, that was something of a challenge.

The sabotages had been fairly minor, mere inconveniences than anything else, until a month ago when someone had planted a small bomb at the Tokyo resort. The bomb had been found, the resort vacated and the explosive neutralized with no harm done, but clearly, the situation had escalated. Taylor Milton had beefed up security at the resorts and ever since then, there’d been no new occurrences and the threatening letters had stopped. It was eerie, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Quint noticed no one took the seat beside Jorgie, but otherwise, the plane was full. Once they were airborne, he sent a text to his coworker Jake Stewart, who was at this very moment boarding a plane to Los Angeles for Eros’s Make Love Like A Movie Star tour.

Any lookers? he typed into his BlackBerry.

Is that all you think about? Jake returned his text.

Quint laughed. Pretty much.

Casanova fits you to a T.

Get back on the horse, man. Jake had been divorced for over a year and as far as Quint knew he hadn’t dated. He’d been bugging him to let loose and just have a fling, but Jake was one of those Dudley Do-Right types who never broke the rules.

Two words, Jake texted back. Morality Clause.

So, any lookers?

Yeah.

That took him by surprise. Quint smiled. Yeah?

Not my type.

All the better.

Door’s closing. Later.

Chuckling, Quint put his BlackBerry away. The flight attendant was distributing drinks and he heard Jorgie order a Bloody Mary. After she’d been served her drink, he took the bottle of water the attendant gave him and slipped into the seat beside her. “Rough night?”

She looked startled to see him.

He nodded at her drink. “A Bloody Mary is a common hangover cure.”

“No.” She shook her head. “In fact, I rarely drink…”

“Fear of flying?”

“Not at all.”

“The mystery deepens. You don’t seem the type to drink alcohol at nine in the morning.”

“Precisely.”

“I’m not following you.”

“I’m doing things I wouldn’t normally do.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Bad breakup.”

“How do you know that?”

“You’re traveling alone and drinking Bloody Marys and headed to an Eros resort. Common cure for a bad breakup.”

“So you’re saying I’m a cliché?”

He shrugged, grinned.

“I wasn’t meant to be traveling alone. Actually my friend Avery was supposed to come with me, but at the last minute she changed her ticket, hopped on a plane to another Eros resort, leaving me holding the bag. I think I’m due for a Bloody Mary, don’t you?”

“Drink up. I’ll order you another.”

She looked at the water bottle in his hand. “You’re not drinking?”

“Not in the mood.” He kept grinning. “But you go right ahead.”

“That grin gets you laid a lot, doesn’t it?”

Whoa, he hadn’t expected that from the girl next door. His admiration shot up a notch. “I do all right.”

“You haven’t changed a bit since high school.”

“It doesn’t sound like a compliment the way you say it.”

“What’s not complimentary about being a twenty-nine-old man with a high school mentality?”

“Ouch, kitten. Withdraw the claws. I’m not the guy who done you wrong.”

“No, but you’re the one who decided to sit here. Better be prepared to take a little mortar fire or head back to where you came from.”

This was getting really interesting. Quint leaned back in his seat, buckled up his seat belt. He could do his job just as easily sitting here as in the last row. “It’s a long flight and I’m all ears.”

“You ever been engaged, Quint?” A disgruntled expression crossed her face and he found himself wishing he could hunt down the ex-boyfriend who’d dumped her and punch him out.

“Nope.”

“Ever come close?”

“Nope.”

“Ever want to get married?”

“Never crossed my mind.”

She took a sip of her Bloody Mary, pointed a finger at him. “Smart man.”

“So,” he said, quickly changing the subject. “How’s Keith? I saw him at our ten-year high school reunion and we had a few drinks. Shot the breeze, but we haven’t kept in touch since then.”

“Keith just got married, and he and his wife are expecting a baby girl in the fall.”

“No kidding. But he’s only…”

“Twenty-nine, same age as you.”

“Seems too young to be tied down.”

“He’s really happy.”

“Good for Keith.” A wistfulness swept over him. It seemed all his buddies were getting married, settling down. He didn’t get it. There was so much living to be done. You could get married and grow old anytime. But you were only young once.

“How’s your parents?”

“They decided to follow their bliss and moved to Santa Fe. Mom runs an art gallery. Dad takes tourists on guided deer hunts.”

“And your brother?”

“Gordy’s still in the air force. He’s gonna be just like Dad. Career military.”

“But not you?”

“Naw. I’ve never been much for having other people tell me what to do. The service wasn’t a natural fit. How about your parents?”

“They finally sold the house on Janie Lane, moved into a condo in downtown Fort Worth.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“After years of suburban living, they said they wanted to be where the action is.”

“I’m impressed. Paula and James living it up in Sundance Square.”

“Things change,” she said.

He raked his gaze over her, couldn’t stop himself from taking in the swell of her breasts beneath her blouse. “Yeah, they do. What are you up to these days? Keith told me you worked for a big accounting firm and that you’d gotten your CPA.”

“Still there.”

“Is it the only job you’ve ever had?”

“Other than working at Six Flags when I was sixteen.”

“Hey, Keith and I worked there one summer. At the ice cream emporium.”

“I remember. You got fired for giving free banana splits to pretty girls.”

“That memory of yours…” Quint shook his head, grinned. “It’s wicked dangerous.”

Their gazes locked and that same compelling zap that he’d felt when he bumped into her in the airport flashed through him again. What was this sudden, unexpected chemistry? She wasn’t the type he normally went for. He liked tall, supergorgeous, sleek blondes with legs to the ceiling and more boobs than brains. Jorgie was nothing like that.

“Tell me, what is it that you do?” she asked. “When you flattened me in the terminal you said you were late for work. I thought you must be a pilot or flight attendant or something.”

“I work for Eros,” he said.

She eyed him. “In what capacity?”

“I’m an instructor.”

An eyebrow rose on her forehead as if she didn’t believe him. “What kind of instructor? I never figure you for the professorial type.”

“I teach How To Make Love Like Casanova. The male counterpart to How To Make Love Like A Courtesan.”

Jorgie almost choked on her Bloody Mary. “You’re serious?”

“Yep.”

“What do you teach them?”

“The art of seduction.”

She giggled.

“Hey, it’s not that funny.” He pretended to look hurt. Hell, if a guy couldn’t laugh at himself, who could he laugh it? The Casanova thing was pretty goofy.

“Are you practicing your skills on me now?” she asked.

“On an old friend?” He made a “no way” face and shook his head.

“Really?”

“Scout’s honor.” He held up two fingers of his left hand.

“Then how come you’ve got your elbow at the level of my breasts? You counting on an accidental boob graze?”

“What? You think I have no finesse?”

“You can stop trying to look affronted and move your elbow.”

“You weren’t this prickly when you were thirteen,” he said, shifting his arm away from her breasts. He hadn’t been angling for an accidental boob graze, but now that she’d brought it up, it was all he could think about. He was so aware of her. The air seemed to vibrate between them.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“What?”

“I see you staring at my breasts.”

“And may I say what nice breasts they are?”

“Go on.” She waved at him with both hands. “Shoo. Go back to your seat.”

“You’re kicking me out of your row?”

“I am.”

“Heartless.” He shook his head, gave her his best grin.

“Go.” She pointed like he was a bad dog.

What had he done wrong? Quint wasn’t accustomed to being shown the door. Women just naturally liked him and he liked them.

“You’re serious?”

“Why do I get the feeling women rarely say no to you?”

“’Cause I know how to make love like Casanova?” He canted his head, tried his best to look adorable.

She snorted, rolled her eyes. “I’ve learned that guys who talk a good game usually do so in order to compensate for something.” Then she very pointedly glanced at his crotch.

“Low blow. You really know how to hurt a guy, Jorgie.”

“I bet you drive a sports car.”

“I do.”

“Let me guess, a heartbreaker red Corvette.”

“How did you know?”

“Overcompensating.”

“Ouch, ouch, ouch.”

“Do you have gigantic speakers on your music system?”

“Huh?”

“The music system in your house. Do you have gigantic speakers?”

“I’m scared to answer that.”

“I’ll take it as a yes.”

“Now I’m beginning to get a clue as to why your boyfriend bailed. You have no idea how to have fun.” The minute he said it, Quint could have bitten off his tongue as the teasing light evaporated from her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he amended. “That was out of line. I didn’t mean it. You just had me on the ropes with the overcompensating thing and I came up swinging.”

“It’s okay,” she said more cheerfully than he expected. “You’re right. Brian left me for that very reason, because I didn’t know how to relax and have fun. That’s why I’m here.”

A rush of sympathy passed through him. “You’re going to be okay, Jorgie,” he said. “Everyone gets their heart broken.”

“Even you?”

“Well.” He chuckled. “I’ve managed to escape that fate so far, but most everyone else goes through it.”

“So you’re absolutely no help at all as a shoulder to cry on.”

“Maybe not.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “But I could provide the comic relief.”

“Maybe later,” she said, sliding closed the shade over the window portal. “Now if you’ll excuse you, I’m going to take a nap.”

All righty, then. Quint knew when he’d been summarily dismissed.

THANK HEAVENS she’d gotten rid of him. Relief leaked from Jorgie in a long-held sigh. The last thing she needed right now was her schoolgirl crush going all Casanova on her.

What do you mean? She could hear Avery’s voice in her head. That’s exactly what you need. A fine fling with someone you know and trust. Why were you being so prickly with him?

Why? Because the man scared the pants off her. She’d had him tucked away in her mental keepsakes drawer, along with all her other teenage heartthrob fantasies. In her mind he’d been as unobtainable as a rock star and suddenly, poof, he’d been sitting in the seat beside her.

Another troublesome aspect was the fact that thirteen years later, he looked better than ever. And he’d been flirting with her. Quint. The most handsome man she knew. Flirting with her, a woman whose looks were average at best.

You’re only average-looking because you don’t make much of an effort. Wear more makeup and jewelry, spend more money on your haircut, and get some sexy clothes.

“Get out of my head, Avery,” she grumbled under her breath. “You took off and left me, now leave.”

“Excuse me?” said the flight attendant, leaning over the empty seat beside her that still smelled of Quint’s outdoorsy cologne. “Did you need something?”

“No, nothing, thanks.” Embarrassed at being caught talking to herself, Jorgie ducked her head.

Okay, clearly she had to make a decision. She and Quint were going to be at the same resort for two weeks. And obviously—although for the life of her, she didn’t know why—he seemed attracted to her. So, did she just go with it? Expand her sexual horizons, fulfill her youthful fantasies, or did she let the past stay buried and keep away from him?

Once upon a time, it would have been a no-brainer. She knew she wasn’t Quint’s type. He liked fast cars and even faster women. By his own admission, he’d never had his heart broken; by the process of elimination that made him the heartbreaker.

Unless…whispered Avery’s voice.

Unless what?

You take full of advantage of him and this vacation. Let him be your love tutor, your rebound guy. That should be right up his alley.

She had to admit that the idea made perfect sense. It was an excellent solution to her post-Brian doldrums.

3

Movies are made for the voyeurs in us all

—Make Love Like a Movie Star

AVERY BODEL GOT OFF the plane in L.A. feeling freer than she’d felt in, well…forever.

Honestly, she loved Jorgie like a sister, but the girl was so stuck in her ways. Sometimes it was as if she were hanging out with an anchor. She did feel a little badly for having ditched her at the airport the way she did, but it was for Jorgie’s own good. It was high time she started having adventures of her own without using Avery as a crutch.

She stood around with the rest of the passengers at the private airstrip, waiting for her baggage to be unloaded from the Eros jet, when she saw him step off the plane. He must have boarded earlier than she had and been sitting in the back of the plane, because she certainly didn’t remember ever seeing the guy before and he was not someone you could miss.

If this had been a movie, this would be the point where the director cued the sensual music and brightened the spotlight to focus solely on the devilishly broody-looking man stepping off the plane.

Everything about him was dark. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark look on his face.

Avery’s heart thumped. Dude, now here was a man.

He wore faded black jeans with a hole in the right knee, a black Nirvana T-shirt that had been washed one too many times. He had on scuffed, scarred military boots and the beard stubble at his jaw declared that he hadn’t bothered with a razor in days. Some men might come across as scruffy and unkempt in such attire, but this guy simply sizzled.

Avery felt an instant stirring in her womb. This one would make a fine baby daddy. Immediately, she slapped the snooze button on her biological clock.

The last thing she wanted was anything—or anyone—tying her down. You couldn’t be footloose with a diaper bag hanging off your shoulder and a kid on your hip. She was only twenty-six. She had a lot more living to do before she settled down. As the oldest of five children, with her baby sister thirteen years younger, she knew all too well how kids consumed your life.

She gave herself a mental shake, but she couldn’t stop staring at the guy. He possessed a keep-your-distance aura that made her itch to crowd his personal space. He stepped from her view behind a large man and it was only when she felt her shoulders sag that she realized how tense she’d been.

The attendants set suitcases on the tarmac and everyone gathered around to claim their luggage. Avery and Mr. Broody Loner reached for the same black travel bag at the same time. She got there first, but his hand quickly closed over hers.

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.”