A Few Good Fantasies (2 page)

Sighing, she glanced at the mirror. Was she really hoping that Mystery Man could show her the way to her own heart? Would his ability to woo her for a day or two crack open her icy exterior?

There was only one way to find out.

Chapter 2

“N
O.” SEAN O’MALLEY strode past Joanne and went into the locker room. Joanna followed him. “My asshole friends locked me in that bloody room with those pretty boys. I’m not for sale.”

“Neither are they,” said Joanne in a patient voice. “They offer companionship to women who need a little romance in their lives.”

“And they get paid for it.” Sean grimaced. “What do you call someone who gets paid to have sex?”

“Lucky.
”

Sean snorted.

“Oh, come on! They draw a salary same as you,” said Joanne. “Only you get boss people around and threaten them with violence.”

“I’m a Safety Agent.” He grabbed the edge of his towel and looked at Joanne with brows raised. “You really want to see the show, love?”

“If I didn’t know what an ass you are, that Irish accent would melt me into a puddle of goo.” Joanne sighed. “Out of all those prime specimens, she picked you. You’ve substituted for me before.”

“Once. And you’ll remember I said never again.”

Joanne threw her hands up in the air. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell the client you’re unavailable and she’ll have to settle for someone else.”

Sean hesitated, simply because Joanna knew full well how he felt about the Fantasy Date business and still had the balls to ask him. He couldn’t help being a little intrigued.
“You puttin’ me on, Joanna?”

“
No. She doesn’t want three dates. She just wants you.” Joanne looked him over and then she shook her head. “I shouldn’t tell you this because God knows your ego is big enough. She took longer than most of my clients to look over her choices. And she didn’t have a visceral reaction to anyone—except you.”

The last time Sean had substituted as a companion, the whole experience had been miserable. It wasn’t that the woman wasn’t beautiful or charming. Hell, she made it damned clear she’d go to bed with him. No, he hadn’t liked the feel of being someone’s arm candy. She’d paraded him around like a damned trained monkey. He put up with rude pats on his ass and smarmy comments. And at the end of the evening, when she grabbed his crotch and told him it was time to play cowboy, he’d told her no.

He didn’t know how the other men put up with that kind of crap.

“Fine,” said Sean, knowing he was going to regret agreeing to this nonsense. “But if we don’t hit off, I walk.”

“Deal.”

FOR YOUR FIRST meeting with your Fantasy Date, what would you enjoy most:

A.
                 
Walk on the beach.

B.
                  
Intimate dinner for two.

C.
                  
Dance at a night club.

D.
                  
Other

Glenna had chosen D and then had
written:
Meet for tea and scones at a bookstore cafe.

Now, she sat at tiny table in the café portion of a bookstore called Romancin’ the Book. It was within walking distance of her hotel, tucked in-between a store that sold bathing suits and beach accessories and a gourmet gifts shop.

She sipped her green tea sweetened with honey and waited for the luscious Sean O’Malley.

She tried to dress casual, which for her meant white Chinos, a pink-striped top, and diamond stud earrings. To show off her pedicure, she’d chosen her jeweled T-strap Manolo Blahnick high heels. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail and fluffed her bangs.

Nervously, she sipped her green tea. What if he didn’t show? What if he didn’t want her? What if he—oh, shit. There he was. Walking toward her. He was dressed in black, pleated pants and a green dress shirt. The shirt complemented his fabulous eyes.

She tried not to drool.

Thank goodness social graces were second nature. She rose, smiled brightly, and extended her hand. “Hello. I’m Glenna.”

He took her hand and shook it heartily. “Sean.”

Wow. He had quite the grip. She half-expected him to press his lips against her knuckles and say something romantic.

Instead, he plopped into the chair across from hers and looked her over. “You’re pretty.”

This announcement was made grudgingly.

“Thank you.” She resumed her seat, at a loss. She pushed the plate of scones toward him. “Would you like to try one?”

“Not particularly.” He looked around the bookstore and grimaced. “You like books, I guess.”

“Yes.”

Their first meeting was not turning out well at all. He was so handsome—the kind of handsome she wanted to nibble and lick. And that sexy lilt to his words … yummy. If only she could give in to the lust. Say something outrageous like, “Take me into the alley and fuck me.”

Her cheeks heated and she looked at the cardboard cup that held her cooling tea. She could never make that sort of demand. Never say—much less
do
—something that naughty.

“What do you do, Sean?” She smiled. “When you’re not a Fantasy Date, I mean.”

“This and that.” His gaze landed on her, dipped to her mouth, and then bounced away. “What do you do?”

I’m a matador. I’m a deep sea diver. I’m a stripper.
She sighed. “I own a bookstore.”

“If you dislike it so much, why don’t you sell it?”

Glenna looked at him, surprised. He had misinterpreted her reaction. So much for instant kinship. “I love my shop. Books are my passion.”

“Oh.” His gaze skimmed her mouth again. Her heart stuttered. Did he want her? But no, his eyes conveyed intense boredom. His arms were crossed, a clear sign of close-mindedness. Obviously, he didn’t want to be here.

“What are you other passions?” he asked.

Like you care.
“I have none.” She stood up, suddenly furious with him, with herself, with the whole situation. “I’m sorry I wasted your time. Good evening, Sean.”

She hitched her purse over her shoulder and strode away.

S
EAN WATCHED GLENNA hurry through the cooking section and bolt out the door.
Great job, Sean.
He sighed and considered the woman he’d just pissed off.

She was pretty—the real kind of pretty. On Fantasyland, there were a lot of gorgeous women, many who’d bought their beauty and paid a price every day to keep it. But not
her. He’d seen enough wanna-be Barbie dolls on the island to spot one a mile away. And being real on the outside gave her some points.

She’s not a cricket match, you idiot.

Sean looked at the scones. She had bitten into one. Probably nervous. And he’d acted like an asshole. The minute he told Joanne yes, he regretted it. He spent most of the day stewing in resentment, thinking about how he didn’t want to play silly games with a woman paying for the privilege.

He was a Safety Agent, damn it, not Don Juan.

But he wasn’t an SA tonight. He sighed. The hurt in Glenna eyes had been real, too. For whatever reason, she’d signed up for a Fantasy Date. He wasn’t too fond of the program. He didn’t like the fakery of it all. But whatever her reasons for being there, she’d picked the one man who wasn’t on payroll as a Lothario.

He found that interesting. And he found her attractive. She was so proper, so perfect. An ice princess he very much wanted to melt.

Bloody hell.

THE BOARDWALK WAS crowded with people hitting the shops, restaurants, and dance clubs. Glenna wound through the happy tourists, horrified at the threatening tears. For God’s sake! Nothing had happened to warrant crying. Had loneliness and sexual frustration turned her into a simpering fool?

Going against the tide of people who were enjoying their time at the Isle of Romance was like trying to swim upstream. The beach was mere steps from the boardwalk, so she cut across and found herself sinking into the soft sand.

Wonderful.

She toed off the heels then scooped them up by the straps. The lights strung along the boardwalk kept the beach well-lit. Several couples, most of them holding hands, wandered close to the shoreline. The ocean was black velvet; its gentle waves whooshed against the shore.

Glenna didn’t feel like she belonged here. Not on the beach. Not on this island. And certainly not as a Fantasy Date. For a moment, she stared at the ocean. How nice it would be to stand near the waves and have the water tickle her feet.

Sighing, Glenna turned and walked down the beach toward her hotel. She would order room service and read
Jane Eyre.
Tomorrow, she would book the first trip available off the island.

As she neared a flight of wooden steps that would take her onto a less crowded spot on the boardwalk, she heard an Irish-tinged voice say, “I’m sorry.”

Glenna stopped and looked over her shoulder. Sean stood behind her looking uncomfortable and contrite. How long had he been following her? She turned to face him. “There is no reason to apologize. We simply didn’t connect.”

“It’s hard to connect to a rude bastard.” He stepped closer and tugged the high heels out of her hand. “Let’s take a walk.”

Glenna hesitated. Earlier, she had worked up the nerve to indulge her romantic fantasies with Sean. But now, she was unprepared for him. She wasn’t sure she could separate fantasy from reality. No, it was worse than that. She wanted the real thing with a person who had not been paid to enjoy her company.

“I accept your apology, Sean. You don’t have to prove anything else to me.” She held out her hand for the shoes. “I’ll
ensure you receive full compensation for your services.”

“God.” He dropped the heels into the sand and looped his fingers around her wrist, pulling her close. “You know how hard you make me when you talk all prissy like that?”

“H-hard?”

“Yes, love,” he murmured. “Hard. You wanna feel how much?”

Glenna couldn’t respond. Her face heated and she ducked her head. No reason for him to believe she was easily swayed by his crude words. Still, her pulse jumped and her body tingled.

“Am I embarrassing you?” he asked softly.

“Of course not. I very much appreciate your efforts.”

He chuckled. “Glenna, you’re too polite. Too beautiful. Too irresistible.”

Glenna’s mouth dropped open. He cupped her face and brushed his lips across hers. Her purse slipped from her shoulder and thunked to the sand.

His kisses were soft, unhurried. Flames licked through her with every meeting, every parting. She pressed her palms flat against his chest and tried to keep upright as he tenderly assaulted her mouth.

Lust.
She thought she knew the emotion—but no, she had never felt this kind of raw, rip-your-clothes-off anxiousness.

He angled his mouth to better fit hers and then … oh, then he dropped all pretense of gentility.

His lips demanded sacrifice. His tongue plundered mercilessly. She moaned and he captured the sound. His mouth took hers again and again until she felt conquered.

His hands dropped to her waist then slid over her buttocks, holding her closer still. The ridge of his cock so intimately pressed against her womanhood sent electric thrills racing through her.

When he finally released her mouth, she clung to him as though he were a life raft in a turbulent sea. She stared at him.

“Why on Earth did you kiss me?”

“It’s my apology.” He frowned. “No, that’s a lie. You looked so prim sitting in that café. You talk like a politician’s wife.” He met her gaze. “I want to see you messy. I want to see you speechless. But mostly, Glenna, I want to see you naked.”

Chapter 3

S
EAN WAITED FOR the princess to react. Would she slap his face? Give him a sultry invite to her room? Or faint in his arms?

What are you doin’, boy-o?
Glenna Rosemont was too far out of his league. He shouldn’t have followed her from the cafe. He felt guilty for being an ass. He figured he owed an apology. She hadn’t deserved his rancor. He’d agreed to the damned date.

And the kiss? Hell, he just wanted to rile her. To see if that icy politeness would melt. Oh, she had melted all right. Even now she trembled in his arms, looking at him as she considered his rather bold proposition.

“The Isle of Romance is about wooing, isn’t it?” She slid out of his embrace and reached down to get her purse. “Women want romance.”

“‘And what’s romance? Usually, a nice little tale where you have everything as you like it, where rain never wets your jacket and gnats never bite your nose, and it’s always daisy time.’” Sean smiled at her shocked expression. “You know who said that?”

She considered him with so serious an expression, he had to look away to keep from kissing her again. Why did her prim and proper manner drive him into instant lust?