Page 9 of Flirting With Disaster

“That’s acceptable.” He crowded her into a corner of the room until she was backed against the stone wall. “We’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted.” One of his brows lifted and the other lowered in a dastardly, Snidely Whiplash effect.

Mr. Fantome placed one hand on the wall next to her head. “Are you interested in fitness, sweetheart?” His bicep contracted in her peripheral vision, bulging under his tight V-neck sweater. He moved closer and whispered in her ear. “I bench four-twenty-five.” His breath smelled of Listerine. “I bet I could bench you.”

Jude jolted in revelation. This man wanted her? Anthropologically speaking, she wasn’t the most attractive woman in the room. But considering her bosom and hip width, perhaps Mr. Fantome was subconsciously attracted to her reproductive attributes.

Reproductive…

This could be an advantageous pairing, after all…in a self-sacrificing aspect, considering Mr. Fantome’s overly tight jeans, constrictive sweater and notoriously large ego.

Jude processed his body language—confident, aggressive… Aggressive would not bode well for her mission. She would need to rectify the situation and ensure control if she were to whip Mr. Fantome into shape for her plans.

Movement caught the corner of her eye, and she glanced past the testosterone filled giant in front of her as The Count approached with a scowl. Her heart rate increased.

She slid from under Mr. Fantome’s hulking figure and impulsively grabbed The Count’s Carhartt jacket by the collar to peck his cheek. “Brother, dear, you’re late again!”

Jude looked at her “brother” with pleading eyes, hoping he would follow her lead and instill in the Hulk’s mind, that she had a protector if need be.

The Count lifted his gaze from hers to the man lurking behind her. His lips twitched just before they came down on hers with a vengeance, devouring her surprised gasp with his mouth and tongue and doing other unfamiliar naughty things.

The kiss was…magnificent.

The way he consumed her, tasted her, demolished all her senses until she couldn’t think straight. Paid escort.

His hand reached around, and he palmed her bottom. Her eyes popped open, and a squeak escaped, as she pulled back from him in shock.

“Brother, my ass. I’ve been looking all over for you, Pumpkin.” He glanced at his watch. “We have just enough time for that quickie before lunch.”

She lifted her gaze to his mocking one. The Beast, Vlad the Impaler, Count Dangerous…whatever she decided he would be today. Those haunting eyes were dark last night. Today, they were an amber storm. She was mesmerized. Absolutely spellbound by his darkness…and his double-crossing treachery.

He grabbed her arm and dragged her toward an adjacent hallway near the center staircase. She quickly regained her bearings and yanked her arm from his tight grasp. Meeting him eye for eye, she remained fixed on the lethal whiskey daggers in his gaze.

“Don’t you remember all those naughty things you said you’d do to me last night, darling?” His smirk was malevolent. She squinted, looking for the points of his incisors to protrude from his succulent lips. Yes, today he would be Dracula, King of the Damned.

“What, like shoot you with wooden bullets to put you out of your misery?”

The Hulk chose that moment to mark his territory. “Excuse me, but Miss Darling and I are going on the castle tour together.” His nostrils flared in warning. “She’s been matched with me as a contest winner this month.”

Drac’s hypnotic gaze stayed riveted to hers. “Ms. Darling,” he drawled the ‘l’ like he was licking rich chocolate ice cream from a cone, “has already consented to a very personal tour with me.”

Hulk smirked. “She obviously gets around.”

Drac’s fist tunneled past Jude’s ear like a 747 through a jet stream. It struck the Hulk’s chin with a wrenching crack, the punch faster than any body movement she’d ever witnessed.

The violence sent a shudder down her spine, and she glanced at the titanic brute on the floor.

The scar down the side of The Count’s face throbbed, his jaw clenched, and those amber eyes had turned dark and macabre. He spun and pulled her to a dark corridor behind the lobby. She stumbled behind him as he lifted a thick tapestry that hung the length of one wall to expose a secret wooden door. He opened the door and tugged her through to a stairwell.

They quickly descended to a gloomy, dank hallway below the castle. His lair.

He stopped once the door at the top of the stairs snapped closed and swatted her behind.

“Ouch!” She rubbed her offended bottom. “What on Earth?”

He held out half an Almond Joy wrapper. “This was stuck on your ass, Ms. Darling.”

Jude’s cheeks heated, even in the cold, inky, stone-lined hallway.

Okay, so shedding Stuffy Duffy wasn’t going to be so easy, after all.

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