Page 22 of Flirting With Disaster

She’d leave him, and she’d be safe.

Eleven

“You have to learn the rules of the game.

And then you have to play

better than anyone else.”

Albert Einstein

Jude stared at the ceiling. Something had woken her. A bad dream about an Indian girl being shot with an arrow while she rushed to save her love.

Loneliness and sadness enveloped her. The room was too cold, and she was hungry.

She’d never eaten dinner. She’d stayed up late researching her pornographic magazines for information on sexuality and intercourse. She didn’t have much time left to seduce Mr. Fantome.

Intercourse didn’t seem too difficult. It was the sensuality part she couldn’t buy into. The feelings, the arousal, the orgasm. She understood how it happened, she just didn’t think her body was capable of allowing it to happen.

She thought too much.

She rose from bed and pulled on her robe, hoping to find something to comfort her in the resort’s kitchen.

The halls were dark and quiet. She slipped down the stairs to the abandoned lower level and into the dimly lit industrial kitchen. The large, glass-fronted refrigerator boasted a host of treats, but what she always wanted most when she was sad was ice cream. It reminded her of Aunt Aggie and all the times she’d spent with the kind woman after her parents had abandoned her for another tour.

Jude moved toward the large freezer and placed her hand on the handle.

“I see you couldn’t sleep, either. Thinking of ways to ruin yourself by plotting the seduction of your next victim?”

She screeched and turned to find Beckette leaning on the other side of the large stainless island, looking rumpled and surprisingly attractive. Her heart stilled at the sight of him. What made a disheveled, alpha male so enticing to the female species? She should research that later.

“You frightened me.” Being alone with him was not in her best interest. She’d already fallen so far and, on the heels of her dream, she was vulnerable. But she did need an expert’s opinion.

She pulled a list she’d made out of her robe pocket and walled off her heart. “Since you are my friend and not a viable candidate for my research, I’d like your input on something. I’ve made an itinerary for the evening I have the opportunity to lose my virginity with Mr. Fantome. I don’t want to look foolish or unprepared.”

Beck’s brows lowered. “Heaven fo

rbid.” He ripped her notes from her hand and focused on the paper.

Jude recited the agenda in her head.

Nine p.m. Lower lights, close all curtains and lock door.

Nine-oh-four p.m. Undress and slide under covers. Allow Mr. Fantome to undress and prepare birth control.

Nine fifteen p.m. Apply lubricating unguent for ease of penetration.

Nine seventeen p.m. Accept Mr. Fantome’s kiss as start of foreplay, expect fondling.

“Expect fondling?” Beck’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, his disdain expertly conveyed through his scrunched features.

“What? Should I not expect that yet? Maybe earlier?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” He rubbed his eyes then refocused on her notes as she read over his shoulder.

Nine twenty p.m. Missionary mounting, penetration, thrusting, ejaculation.

Nine twenty-four p.m. Mr. Fantome will recover, offer thanks, dress and leave.

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