Книга - Living the Fantasy

Living the Fantasy
Kathy Lyons


Alicia Flores is going to play a character from a video game for a promotional tour!What she’s not expecting is to be drawn into damn sexy video-game guru Ken Johnson’s sinful world of make-believe! But will Alicia be able to give up the fantasy when it’s time to return to the real world?










Look what people are saying about Kathy Lyons…

“A sexy new approach to the military hunk stories.”

—RT Book Reviews on Night After Night…

“If you enjoy reading books with Alpha males, then Night After Night… is definitely a book for you! This book comes with some seriously kinky and steamy sex scenes and a very modern happy ending!” —Night Owl Reviews

“Detailed, empathetic characters mix with a fascinating plot and sizzling sex to make one extraordinary tale.”

—Affaire de Coeur on Night After Night…

“This book is hard to resist.”

—Affaire de Coeur on In Good Hands

“Lyons’ latest is a fun, flirty and unexpectedly kinky book.”

—RT Book Reviews on Taking Care of Business




About the Author


A USA TODAY bestselling author, KATHY LYONS has made her mark with sizzling romances. She adores unique settings, wild characters and erotic, exotic love. And if she throws in a dragon or a tigress here and there, it’s only in the name of fun! An author of more than thirty novels, she adores the fabu-lousness that is Mills & boon blaze. She calls them her sexy treat and hopes you find them equally delicious. Kathy loves hearing from readers. Visit her at www.kathylyons.com or find her on Facebook and Twitter under her other pen name, Jade Lee.




Living the Fantasy

Kathy Lyons







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Brenda, you made this book awesome.

THANK YOU!




1


OMG I’m going to kill this client!

ALI FLORES LAUGHED as she looked at the text message from her best friend, Elisa. Apparently some guy had hired Elisa’s modeling agency to find an actress for him but he couldn’t verbalize what he was looking for. Go figure. A guy who didn’t know what he wanted in a woman. What were the odds?

Ali was smiling as she texted back.

I’m still coming for lunch. Have to get out of here!

She’d just hit Send when her boss popped his head into her cubicle.

“Hey, Ali, did you proofread that brochure?”

“Right here,” she said as she handed over the document. “But I really think the photos could be better—”

“Great. I’m having a terrible time getting those promotional pens out of China. Can you call their customs department for me and get it worked out?”

“Because I speak such good Chinese?” Not.

“Because you’re the best. Thanks!” And off he went with a wave. She wanted to scream. How the heck was she supposed to navigate Chinese customs? But she didn’t say a word. Instead, she grabbed her phone and typed out another quick text to Elisa.

My boss knows exactly what he wants: me, chained to my desk. Until I DIE!

She had to get a new job. Truthfully, she had to get a new life, but what? And how? She dropped her chin on her hand and stared at her computer screen. And as she glared at the blinking cursor, she imagined a knight in shining armor stepping up to her desk to rescue her. He’d take her away to his castle, he’d shower her with jewels, and…and he’d probably ask her to mother his seven screaming brats from a previous marriage.

Not!

Ali groaned and started pulling up all the correspondence with the Chinese factory. But as she worked, her mind kept churning on her own life problems.

Ali believed in happily ever after. Perhaps that was the problem. She didn’t just believe in it, she ached for it. She obsessed about it. She wanted it with a hunger that filled her fantasy life to overflowing.

But she needed some way to shape her dreams. It wasn’t like knights in shining armor were wandering around Houston looking for her. And she wasn’t really a damsel in distress. Truth was, she didn’t know who or what she was.

She’d been a quiet child growing up, buried in books because that’s what she liked. She and her single mom had been happy up until she was ten. Then suddenly her mom up and married a guy with two sons, both younger than Ali. And if that weren’t enough, Mom got pregnant just a few months later.

Ali went from the girl who liked to read to the girl who changed diapers, did laundry and screamed at the boys to stay out of her room. In the end, she escaped to college only to quit when the money ran out.

She’d got this job as a secretary to the head of PR in a hospital. Talk about being unimportant. The hospital saved lives. Her boss kept the hospital looking good so it could save lives. And what did she do? She made sure their booth at a health fair was well stocked with promotional pens. Sure, she wasn’t screaming at toddlers anymore, but she was working just as hard screaming at customs or tracking UPS shipments or doing whatever menial task her boss threw at her.

Other people had passions, they had goals and a purpose. She had fantasies about handsome pirates not because she liked pirates but because she didn’t know what she did like. And she wasn’t going to find out sitting here filling out customs forms.

It was time to make a change. So she whipped out her phone and texted Elisa.

Lunch NOW. We’re going to find me a new life.

KEN JOHNSON WAS SEARCHING for a queen. And for some ridiculous reason, he couldn’t find one. Maybe because Queen Guinevere didn’t exist in Houston. Still, he was determined to try. He was now at his seventeenth modeling agency praying that the woman he sought walked through the door. But so far, he’d been sorely disappointed.

Ken was CEO of Quirky Games, Inc., and he was about to launch a new adventure game that he hoped would take the geek world by storm. But in order to do that, he had to throw a huge publicity campaign that included gaming conventions, comic conventions and even a theme-park opening. And after years of experience in the geek gaming world, he knew that every event hinged on one thing: the actors who played the characters.

Any model could strap on a corset and a sword. Put a babe in a brass bra and kids would look, but they wouldn’t necessarily buy. These days, players needed more than a hot chick before they invested the hours to get fluent in a game. They needed a goal, a challenge and, most of all…a queen.

His queen needed to be divinely beautiful but so approachable that boys would immediately want to talk to her, be with her, play the game for hours just to spend more time around her. She needed to be reserved enough to seem mysterious, and yet so warm that you believed she could strap on an apron and serve chocolate-chip cookies. Sex goddess and Betty Crocker, all rolled into one.

That was the queen he wanted, and damn it, she was nowhere to be found.

“I need a break,” he said, shoving up from his chair. He was in the primary conference room of the last modeling agency on his list: OMG Action! But just as all the others, every woman who’d strutted, shimmied or swaggered in front of him had left him cold. Not just cold, but vaguely nauseated. They were certainly beautiful, but the personalities beneath the flawless skin and high cheekbones were arrogant or just plain over-the-top.

The agency owner, Marilyn Madison, pushed out of her chair and teetered on her ultra-high heels. “Mr. Johnson!” she cried, panic in her voice.

Then her assistant—a very sweet young woman named Elisa—offered him yet another folder of pictures. “If you could just tell me what look you’re going for, perhaps in this pile—”

“I don’t care about a look,” he said for what felt like the billionth time. “I need the woman to feel right, and these girls just don’t.” And with that he stomped out the door. He didn’t stop until he’d pushed through the doors of the elegant glass foyer, but as the office was on the thirty-seventh floor, he ended up standing in the hallway near the elevator bank.

He toyed with the idea of just leaving the building. He could be at his favorite comic-book store in twenty minutes. Except, of course, he was an adult today. He had a company and—more important—twenty employees who needed him to make Winning Guinevere into a multimillion-dollar success. Their jobs and his life savings depended on it.

Eight years ago, he’d been fresh out of college with a computer-science degree and a hunger to make it rich. He had a cool game written, and he and his best friend, Paul, had marketed the heck out of it and sold a zillion copies. Quirky Games, Inc. was born. But that was eight years ago. Since then, they’d launched one game after another to only middling success. Winning Guinevere was their last hope, and Ken was pouring everything he had into it. Which meant he had to find the right Guinevere. Without her, he might as well declare bankruptcy now.

He took a deep breath and tried to think. Maybe there was a compromise somewhere. He ran through different scenarios in his mind, but every one just made him sigh. Everything hinged on the woman. He couldn’t compromise there. It would compromise everything.

He was on the verge of muttering curse words in Klingon when the elevator doors dinged. He didn’t look out of curiosity—his eyes were just focused in that direction. But since his eyes were aimed at the elevator door, he could hardly fail to notice when she walked out. Normal height, nice curves and thick dark hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. He caught a flash of flawless skin, high cheekbones and enticing legs that had enough muscle to be strong and enough softness to be sexy. She wore a dress of muted blue and a sweater that covered her curves but didn’t hide them.

And none of that made him leap off the wall until he heard her chuckle. Low, throaty and so damn sexy, he felt his jaw drop in shock. It seemed to fill the air and vibrate in his soul. Sexy and warm. Chocolate-chip-cookie warm.

Oh my God, had he just found his queen?

He pulled himself together—a lot harder to do than it should have been—and scrambled for a way to introduce himself. Meanwhile, she turned out of the elevator alcove and headed down the hall toward him. Her eyes were trained on her cell phone. That was apparently what had made her laugh because a second later, she did it again.

Wow. He felt this one in his spine, and every part of him leaped to follow her. The words were out of his mouth before he could think twice.

“Excuse me, miss…” he began, but then his voice trailed away. What could he say to this woman?

She looked up, her eyes going wide as she realized she’d been so focused on her phone that she hadn’t seen him there. “Oh!” she gasped. “I’m sorry. I should look where I’m going, huh?” She immediately folded up her phone.

“No, no. My fault. I…uh…” He tried his best smile, his mind scrambling. The problem was that as smart as he was—and frankly, he was considered very smart—he’d never been very good at communicating with girls. He wanted to be suave and ended up just looking like a tongue-tied geek. Which was exactly what he was. “I was just admiring your phone.”

She blinked and looked down at the cell in her hand. Ken noted with dismay that it wasn’t a cool phone. It wasn’t even a smartphone, which made it a virtual dinosaur.

“This phone?” she asked.

“Um, no. Actually I was just looking for a way to talk to you.”

She smiled. “Bad luck then, choosing to talk about my phone. I’m just grateful it can handle text messages.”

He stared at her, lost in her face. Flawless skin was right: like the smoothest latte ever, only with a dusting of gold. She seemed to be of Polynesian descent, which made her look exotic. But what really caught him were her meltingly chocolate-brown eyes. And, best of all, each of her cheeks sported a dimple.

She was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Meanwhile, she put away her big clunker of a phone while he grabbed for something more to say. “So you must not be one of those ultra-plugged-in people. Internet, social media, a zillion apps just to get coffee?”

She shook her head, but didn’t laugh. In truth, she seemed almost shy the way she ducked her head. But her eyes sparkled when she spoke. “Not me. Whenever I check my email, I get junk or more things to do from my boss.”

He gave a mock shudder. “Hate that.” Even though he was technically the boss, every time he opened his email he ended up with ten more things on his to-do list. Meanwhile, he tried to cover his ultra-slick phone with his elbow. She noticed of course, and gestured to where it was hanging like a lead weight on his belt.

“You seem kinda plugged in, though.”

“Um, yeah. You never know when the urge to get a triple mocha latte will hit.”

She lifted her chin, her eyes dropping to a sexy half mast as she murmured a long, appreciative, “Yummmm.”

His blood went straight south. Not only did she sound sexy, but suddenly her expression sparked all sorts of dark things in his imagination. Meanwhile, she had straightened and was looking down the hall. Hell, he was about to lose her, so he scrambled for another way to keep her with him for just a moment longer.

“Um, really, I was just looking for a way to talk to you.” Lord, was there ever a more lame way to approach a girl? Especially since he now realized he’d already said that.

“Talk to me?” she echoed. Then she flushed slightly and smiled back at him. “I mean, hello. Nice to meet you.”

He held out his hand, but out of habit, he wiped it first on his pants. He’d spent so much of his adolescence with sweaty, gross hands that it was just an automatic gesture. Then he cursed himself for being an idiot. He was in a suit, for God’s sake. And now she was wondering what had been on his hands when it had been nothing!

Mentally he sighed and tried even harder to be charming. He grabbed her hand and shook it too hard. “My name is Ken. Ken Johnson.”

“I’m Ali,” she said, as she glanced beyond his left shoulder. “And, um, I have a meeting…”

“Oh, right!” He stepped aside, his thoughts whirling. Could she possibly be going into the agency? Was God smiling on him? Could she maybe be a model?

She stepped past him, and he tried not to look like a creepy stalker. But that was harder than it seemed given that he was loitering in the hallway for no reason at all. Then it didn’t matter because, yes, she pushed through the doorway of the agency.

She was a model and she was hired!

He stumbled after her, nearly tripping over himself in his excitement. He made it through the doors right on her heels. She turned at his noisy entrance, her eyes going wide and her lips parting on a sweet gasp of surprise. In the background, Elisa came forward, talking to the newcomer.

“There you are! I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t apologize, Miss…” What was her name? All he could remember was Elisa. “Look, Elisa, this girl right here, I want her.” Belatedly he realized he couldn’t afford to pay exorbitant rates, and he ought to be negotiating. “I mean, assuming she’s a reasonable price.”

Both women gaped at him. It took him a moment to realize that Elisa had been talking to the newcomer, not him. Meanwhile, Elisa recovered first, her skin flushing a dark red. “Oh, no, Mr. Johnson. I’m sorry. She’s not for sale.”

He ground his teeth together. Damn it, she was already booked. He turned to the model, trying not to appear desperate. But he was desperate! “How long until you’re available? Are there breaks? A weekend or two? I’m sure we could work things out.”

He reached out to touch her arm, but Elisa quickly stepped between them. “Mr. Johnson, you don’t understand.”

He refused to let anyone come between him and his queen. He pushed Elisa aside as gently as he could. Fortunately she wasn’t all that stable on her stiletto heels or he might not have managed it. Meanwhile, his eyes were on the woman he wanted.

“What’s your normal rate?”

Instead of answering, his queen swallowed, and her eyes darted anxiously between him and Elisa. Uh-oh. Not a good sign.

“Look,” he said, “I know this is unusual, but I’m not crazy.”

“You just want to buy me,” she said, her voice soft. God, she had the most beautiful voice. Just listening to it made everything in him go still.

“Hire you,” he scrambled to say. “Hire you. To be my queen.”

She blinked at him.

“Mr. Johnson!” snapped Elisa. “She’s not our model!”

She wasn’t…Oh! “So you’re with a different agency?” he asked.

“Um, no,” his goddess answered. “St. Catherine’s Hospital.”

He frowned and looked at her, his body actually lurching as he tried to understand her words. “Hospital? You’re a…a…” He looked at her, mentally trying to fit her into the medical profession. Doctor? Nurse? None of that seemed to fit. “Um…”

“I work in the PR department doing events. Health fairs and the like.”

“Health fairs?” His queen was…a PR girl? But that was perfect! She was in PR. She knew how to handle—

“Sorry. I’m just here for lunch.” She gave him a self-conscious shrug and turned to Elisa. “Are you free yet?”

“Uh…” began Elisa, but then from directly behind them, the head of OMG Action! spoke, her voice cutting through the foyer in strident tones.

“No, she’s not!” said Marilyn Madison. “Both of them are coming with me!”

Then the strangest thing happened. All three of them—himself, Elisa and his queen—all groaned at once.




2


ALI FLORES COULDN’T LOOK AT the cute guy who’d tried to flirt with her in the hallway. She’d figured out his problem. He’d assumed she was a model just because she was headed into the agency, and wasn’t that just too funny! The idea of her as a model cracked her up. She wasn’t tall, blonde or rail-thin. And she certainly didn’t have the style sense to do anything like modeling.

Still, she had to admit she was flattered, even if he really needed to get his eyes checked. She had been looking forward to giggling with Elisa about it over lunch when Mad Marilyn saw them. That was their code name for Marilyn Madison, owner of the agency and somewhat of a bitch.

Last week, Elisa had taken Ali out to lunch for her twenty-eighth birthday. It wasn’t until they were on their way back to the office that Elisa realized she’d accidentally paid using the corporate credit card. Sure, Elisa had refunded the money into the petty-cash drawer along with the receipt and the explanation, but Ali just knew the madwoman was going to ream them both out at the first opportunity. And now the time had come to pay the piper.

Too bad it had to happen in front of that cute guy she couldn’t quite look at.

Ali mouthed the word busted to her friend, then turned around to face Marilyn. Since she wasn’t employed here, Ali fully intended to take all the blame. She wasn’t exactly sure how she was going to manage that except that she was really good at constructing elaborate cover stories. She’d just have to make sure it was really good.

With that thought in mind, she pasted on an ultra-innocent smile and turned around. First off: start with flattery.

“Why, Miss Madison, look at you! You’ve lost weight!”

As expected, the woman stopped glaring long enough to shoot Ali an I-know-what-you’re-doing smile. “Thank you for noticing,” the woman said. “I’ve always thought you to be unusually perceptive.”

Ali blinked. She had? Since when? As far as she was aware, the woman didn’t even know her name. Then she had to mentally slap herself. Obviously, the woman was simply shooting back the same insincere flattery that Ali had given her.

“Now come along, you two,” the woman said, punctuating her order with a glare at Elisa.

Ali shuddered. This was not good.

Then the woman turned a dazzling smile on the sweet Blind Ken, as Ali had now named him in her mind.

“Mr. Johnson, please, if you would give us just a moment, I’m sure I can work things out just as you’d like.”

“But I’d like—”

“Yes,” Mad Marilyn interrupted. “I know exactly what you want, and I’m going to make sure you get it. But first, I’ve ordered some sandwiches and coffee. They’ll be up in just a moment. Why don’t you wait with your VP in the conference room. I’ll be just a moment.”

Blind Ken had a VP? Wow, he must be the difficult client Elisa had been texting her about. The guy who wasn’t happy with any of their usual models, but couldn’t say why.

She looked up at him, and immediately regretted her decision. He was staring intently at her. He obviously wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what. She could relate. She spent half her life thinking she ought to say something, but not knowing what would work.

The moment stretched on, and the pressure to say something—anything—built inside her. She took a breath at the very same moment he did, but then Mad Marilyn beat them both to the punch.

“In here please, Miss Flores,” she said in a freezing tone.

Nothing to do now but shut her mouth and follow the madwoman into her office. At least Elisa would be in there, too, but one look at her friend’s face and she could tell they were both equally clueless about what was going on.

She’d barely stepped into the large room when Marilyn started talking and rooting through files at the same moment.

“Shut the door, Elisa. Have a seat, Miss Flores. We really need to change your name. Never model under your real name. How do you feel about Flowers?”

Ali frowned, replaying the sentences in her mind. Nope. They still didn’t make any sense. But Mad Marilyn looked up to pin her with a glare.

“Well? Do you like Flowers?”

“Um, yes?” Who didn’t like flowers?

“Excellent.” Marilyn pulled out a thick contract, set it down on the desk and started writing. “So your name will be Ali Flowers. You’ll have the standard agency agreement, but before I can release you to Mr. Johnson, you’ll need some training. Emergency training, if you catch my drift. But lucky for you, I can simply deduct the cost of that from the contract with GQ.”

Elisa stepped closer after having closed the door. “I think you mean QG. Quirky Games.”

Marilyn looked up and frowned. “What? Oh, right. These games. Ridiculous name. Quirky. Whatever. Now, Ms. Flowers, will you please sign here, here, here, and initial here.” She pushed a pen forward into Ali’s hand.

Ali barely managed to grab hold of the pen, but beyond that, she didn’t move a muscle. She felt like an idiot—and a slow one to boot—but she had no clue what was going on and no interest in signing anything until she did.

So she carefully set the pen down. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Why would I sign an agency agreement with you?”

“So you can be GQ’s Guinevere!”

“QG,” she corrected. It was the only thing she understood. That they were definitely not talking about Gentlemen’s Quarterly.

Mad Marilyn waved that away with an impatient snort. “Look, I understand you want more money. Don’t we all? But I simply can’t get you ready in time and forgo the usual agency cut. Believe me I’ll be earning every cent!”

Ali shook her head. “But I don’t want to be a model.” The idea was laughable! “And why would you—”

“Marilyn, please,” cried Elisa. Apparently, she understood what was going on. “Ali just came here for lunch.”

“Well, what has that to do with anything? Look,” she said, turning her laser eyes on Ali. “That man out there has a lot of money. He’s been looking all over the city for some woman to play his Queen Guinevere in a summer promotional sweep. And now he wants you.” She grabbed the pen and pushed it into Ali’s hand. “So sign. Then you and I can make a lot of money.”

Ali gaped at her. “Guinevere? Me?”

Marilyn rolled her eyes. “Yes, you!”

“But why?”

“Because he’s a crazy man! You’re not tall enough, you’re not trained in any way and you could stand to lose a few pounds.”

“Hey!” That was Elisa, not Ali. Sadly, Ali knew everything the woman said was absolutely correct.

“But I don’t understand why,” said Ali, her gaze going to Elisa. Sadly, Mad Marilyn wasn’t allowing anyone to talk but herself.

“It doesn’t matter why, Miss Flowers. It matters that you say yes!” This time she forcibly wrapped Ali’s fingers around the pen.

“But I don’t know anything about modeling—”

“I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

“—and I already have a job!” That last protest was pure reflex. After all, hadn’t she just decided she needed to remake her life? But modeling had never entered her mind as a possibility.

Meanwhile, Marilyn huffed as she sat back in her chair. “Shall I be blunt?” she asked.

As if she was ever anything else! “I’m not a model,” Ali said.

“No, my dear, you’re a secretary in a hospital PR department.”

Ali blinked. How did Marilyn know that? “I manage events, coordinate publicity and logistics. It’s an important job!” She said the words, but inside, she knew it really was a lame job. Sure, what she did was valuable, but all it took was an organized mind. She had that in spades. She was valued (at least she hoped she was) but from anyone else’s perspective, she was just another cog in a very big machine.

“And now you have a chance to be something better. Something special! A Marilyn Madison Model!”

Ali didn’t know how to answer. The idea of her as a model was just too far to go, and yet she was starting to think about it. Could she really be pretty enough to be a model? She wasn’t ugly, but she’d never thought of herself as beautiful.

“Think of it!” Mad Marilyn pressed. “Your picture in the paper, screaming fans, cameras, a life under the lights! It’s what every girl wants, and it’s being handed to you on a silver platter!”

Uh-oh. Wrong thing to say. As Marilyn started speaking, the reality of what a model had to do started hitting. She’d be put on display. All those cameras! What if she said the wrong thing? What if she did the wrong thing? She would be promoting Blind Ken’s product—whatever it was—but if she screwed up then that would reflect badly on him.

“No,” she whispered. “No, I can’t do that.”

Marilyn released her breath on a huff of disgust. Then she shook her head. “Listen to me, Miss Flores. I know this is fast, I know this is a big change. But sometimes opportunity happens like that. It’s there and then it’s gone like that.” She snapped her fingers with a loud crack. “So take it now while it’s being offered. Otherwise it’s gone.” Again, she snapped her fingers and the sound seemed to echo in Ali’s head. “Think hard. And think fast.”

Then she pushed out of her chair and shot a glare at Elisa. “You’re her friend! Explain the situation. Explain how great an opportunity this is.” She straightened her very tight fitted jacket. “I’ll go negotiate your fee.” Then she was gone.

Ali waited a long time after Marilyn was gone before looking at Elisa. They were best friends, had been since college when they’d been assigned each other as roommates. They couldn’t be more opposite. Where Ali was studious and shy, an introvert with a love of reading, Elisa was vivacious, spontaneous and had a burning desire to be a runway model. After she’d failed a dozen auditions, Elisa decided to use her brain and body a little differently. She interned at Marilyn’s agency and was so good at it that Marilyn hired her as soon as the internship was over.

Elisa couldn’t be a top model, but she could help other girls attain the dream. And now, apparently, her job was to see that Ali became exactly what Elisa had dreamed of. But Ali just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t be a model. She didn’t know anything about it!

“Don’t shake your head, sweetie,” Elisa said as she pulled up a chair. “Let me guess. You’re thinking that you can’t be a model, not because you aren’t pretty enough—”

“I’m not!”

“The client says you are.”

Ali didn’t have an answer to that, so she buttoned her lip.

“You’re thinking that you can’t stand having people look at you. That you’d be the center of attention and that you’d mess it up somehow.”

Ali sighed. “It’s not fair of Marilyn to make you talk me into this.”

Elisa shrugged. “Don’t think about me right now. Let’s talk about you.”

“I can’t be a model!”

“You keep saying that, but what really is stopping you?”

“I have a job.”

“And didn’t you just text me that you wanted a new one?” Elisa pulled out her phone and paged through to the right text message. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “What you actually said was: ‘We’re going to find me a new life.’”

Ali sighed. Sure she’d said that, and she’d even meant it. “But I can’t just change my entire life over lunch.”

Elisa shrugged. “Like Marilyn said, sometimes things happen that fast.”

“Don’t you dare snap your fingers!” Ali groused. Of course Elisa didn’t have to. Ali still had the sound of Marilyn’s snap echoing in her brain. But even as her heart was starting to think of the possibility, her brain was busy coming up with reasons she couldn’t possibly do this.

“I’d be a lousy model.” She’d spent her life on logistics and organization. It had been a necessary survival skill while managing her three younger siblings. “My skills are great backstage.”

Again, Elisa just shrugged. “Maybe it’s time to learn some new skills.”

Sure it was. But modeling? “I haven’t a clue what to do.”

“Well, that’s easy enough. We’ll teach you. And besides, you’re not going on a runway. You’re just dressing up and talking to people. You do that every day.”

“I talk to people at health fairs. About finding the right doctor and managing their blood pressure.”

“And now you’ll talk to kids about a game. Really, Ali, you’re incredibly smart. You’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

Ali tried to picture it. She imagined herself as one of those product girls she saw at health fairs, the ones attached to some drug company. They looked good, but dressed on the edge of too slutty, in her opinion. They were there to draw people to the booth so that they could try a sample of an over-the-counter medication. Or a new arch support. Or something. They were product girls, and…and well, what they did wasn’t that hard.

“That can’t pay enough compared to what I’m making now.”

“Are you sure? That’s what Marilyn’s out there negotiating right now. And from what I saw, Mr. Johnson wants you bad. That means big-dollar bad.”

Ali shook her head, but inside she was thinking. After all, Marilyn was right; every little girl wanted to be thought of as gorgeous, so beautiful people would flock to see her. But as a child she’d been much too shy and awkward to want anyone looking at her. There wasn’t any big trauma in her background. She was just more comfortable watching the action than being part of it. She was the girl who made sure things ran smoothly, whether that meant making sure her brothers had their uniforms for the big soccer game or watching the UPS website to be sure the hospital booth arrived at the event stadium. It had taken her a year to be able to function smoothly in a booth, speaking clearly in a crowd without stammering or blushing.

“I can’t lose my job,” she said. “What happens when the promo sweep is over?”

Elisa leaned back. “What about a leave of absence? I saw the events he has planned. It’s three months, tops. Good work for a model.”

“I’m not a model.” She said the words out of habit, but she was already softening.

“Don’t think of it as being a model. Think of it as an acting job.”

“Not helping.”

“People won’t be looking at you, Ali. They’ll be looking at Mr. Johnson’s queen.”

Ali didn’t even know how Elisa could say those words with a straight face. “How does a queen act? What if I do it wrong? It’ll reflect badly on his game and this agency.”

Elisa snorted. “You think too much about other people. Let Marilyn worry about the agency. Let Mr. Johnson worry about his product. You’re just being hired to stand around looking pretty. You can do that! Especially if you get paid really well for it.”

Ali squirmed. She could tell that Elisa wanted her to say yes. But the idea was so ludicrous. And yet even as she said those words to herself, she wondered if she were lying. Obviously, it wasn’t ludicrous. Not if Marilyn could really get her good pay. And yes, Elisa was right. Blind Ken seemed to think she’d be perfect for the job. He was delusional, but that wouldn’t stop him from paying her.

“What if I get fired without pay?”

“You won’t screw up, and Marilyn’s big on up-front pay.”

Ali gaped. “Can she do that?”

Elisa shrugged. “Not usually, but like I said: he wants you.”

Elisa stopped speaking, waiting while a zillion thoughts spun around in Ali’s brain. Elisa knew her well. She knew that she had to think things through. That she hated being bullied. And that…

“One last thing,” Elisa said. “Today’s text wasn’t just out of the blue. You’ve been ready for a change for a while now. Just last week you said you were getting frustrated. That you felt you were in a rut. You weren’t going to get promoted, you’d topped out your pay at the peon level—” Ali opened her mouth, but Elisa stopped her with a pointed finger. A gesture she’d obviously learned from Marilyn. “Those are your words, Ali! ‘The peon level.’”

Oh, right. She had said that.

“So maybe this is the shake-up you need, a summer of opportunity. If nothing else, think of it as a paid vacation. You’ll only be on a stage a few hours a day. After that, you can sit around in your hotel room and read. Or maybe you’ll go to the bar and get a drink. Hang out with your fellow actors. Come on, Ali, are you sure you don’t want to try it? Just for a few months?”

Ali shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her mind continuing to race. Everything Elisa said was right. Absolutely everything. But could she do it? There were so many things that would have to work out right. The pay, for one. The leave of absence from her current job, for another.

“Tell you what,” Elisa said, proving that she knew Ali was weakening. “Why don’t you go out and chat with Mr. Johnson? Find out exactly what he wants. You’ll see how easy it will be.”

At the mention of Mr. Johnson, Ali felt her face heat. He was cute. She’d enjoyed the short exchange that they’d had in the hallway. He’d seemed real and, well, just her speed. That meant funny and dorky in a nice way. Not the silk-shirt-and-thousand-dollar-suit guys that Elisa usually dated.

She thought about working with him day after day. He wasn’t tall, which was great. At five foot six, she hated feeling like a shrimp next to big guys. He had dark curly hair and nice brown eyes, though she’d noticed they were a bit red. As if he was already hours into a too-long day and it was barely one o’clock. But mostly she remembered how he’d made her feel: relaxed. As if he was just as nervous as she was, and so together they’d muddle along fine.

It was an odd thought to have after just a few minutes’ conversation, but the feeling persisted. Maybe it was his smile—warm and genuine, but still holding a hint of anxiety. As though he really wanted to make a good impression. Which made her smile because, honestly, what über-rich guy wanted to please her?

In short, the answer was yes. She could imagine working every day with him. In truth, she thought it could be really awesome. She’d just have to stop thinking of him as Blind Ken. He was Mr. Johnson from now on. Her boss…maybe.

“Okay,” she finally said.

“Okay, you’ll do it?”

“Okay, I’ll go talk a little more with Blind Ken.”

Elisa snorted. “You cannot call him that. And he’s not blind! How many times have I told you that you’re way more beautiful than you think?”

Ali shrugged as she straightened up from her chair. Then she rubbed her hands nervously along her skirt and wished she’d refreshed her makeup. “Do I have time—”

The door burst open and Marilyn stomped in looking for all the world as if she was ready to wrestle a bear. “Are you done? Did you sign? Can we go meet the client now?”

Guess there was no time for a makeup refresh. “Yes, I’ll meet Mr. Johnson now.”

Marilyn froze, her gaze darting to the unsigned contract.

“And then,” pressed Ali, “we can decide about an agency agreement.”

But first, she had to impress the hell out of Blind—er, Notblind Ken. The CEO of some quirky company. And when exactly had she stepped from normal world into wonderland?




3


KEN DIDN’T KNOW WHETHER to be depressed or dive headlong into a Desperate Act. It was obvious that he had erred badly. Having finally found his queen, he’d assumed she was a model (Mistake number one), stalked her like a psycho creep (Mistake number two), declared he “wanted her” and tried to buy her for a weekend or more (Mistake number three), and then when he’d finally realized his error, he lost the opportunity to explain himself (Mistake number four). Marilyn had whisked the woman away only to return fifteen minutes later to negotiate the woman’s fee as if she were bartering the crown jewels.

And in all of that, he got the distinct feeling that his Guinevere—a Ms. Ali Flowers—had no interest in being a model. So now he was faced with two choices. He could either give up entirely—not really an option. Or he could try again with Ali. But how? What to say to explain that he wasn’t creepy or insane? And how to convince a hospital PR rep to quit her job to come work for him for a summer? Because he could pay her well, but probably not that well.

He was still chewing on that thought when Marilyn finally realized he wasn’t going to negotiate any fee until he talked to Ali again. She clicked her teeth shut and pushed up from the table. “I’ll be right back,” she snapped, then tugged on her short jacket and stomped out.

Which left him sitting in the conference room with Paul, his vice president of marketing, while staring morosely at the table. Fortunately, Paul knew just how to talk to him.

“So, you’re sure this is the woman?”

Ken nodded without even taking his chin out of his hand.

“No one else will do?”

Ken shook his head.

“And she’s not even a model.”

Ken shrugged.

“So basically, we’re screwed.”

“Unless I can charm her into quitting her job for us.”

“Uh-huh. Screwed.” Then Paul paused. Ken knew what was coming. Paul was tall, dark and baby-faced cute. Not exactly handsome, but a man who looked and dressed the part of a marketing executive. And if one of them was going to charm Ali, then it would probably be Paul. “Do you want—” Paul began.

“No. Absolutely not. You stay quiet.” Both of them were startled by the vehemence in his words.

“Ooo-kay.”

“Let me sink or swim on my own here.”

Another long pause. “You know you’re not being entirely rational, right?”

Ken had no response to that. Of course he wasn’t being rational. But apparently, he didn’t care. Especially as Marilyn’s office opened up and out she came with one sharp-taloned hand gripping his Guinevere’s arm.

Ken shot to his feet, yet another mistake (number five) as his chair nearly flopped to the floor behind him. Fortunately, Paul had fast hands and grabbed it. Get a grip! Ken ordered himself. But it was hard to hear his own thoughts over the pounding of his heart.

The conference-room door opened and the ladies entered, Guinevere first. Ken searched her face, hoping for a clue, but he saw nothing that reassured him. Her face was composed, her eyes were alert, but there was a general air of wariness about her. And no wonder. She probably thought he was a total sleaze.

Time to start being charming. He pulled on a smile.

“Hello, Miss Flowers. I’d like to—”

“Flores.”

“—apologize. I must have sounded like a…What?”

“Flores. My name is Ali Flores.”

“Oh.” He could have sworn Marilyn said Flowers. Great, now he was really screwing up. “Um, I apologize. For getting your name wrong and for acting like a lunatic earlier.”

She smiled, a soft curving of her lips that did not show teeth. It was a reserved smile, and he found he liked her all the more for it. It softened her face without bowling him over with a polished exterior. It made her feel more real, and he found himself relaxing at the sight of it. She was a normal person. Hopefully, she understood that he was a normal guy—one who made mistakes.

Then Marilyn had to spoil the mood by hauling out a chair and strong-arming Ali into the seat. “Excellent! Now that that’s out of the way, let’s sit down and talk details.”

Ken bristled. He had a Neanderthal reaction to seeing anyone manhandling his queen, even if the man-handler was a woman. But before he could say anything, Paul leaped into the breech. Great, his employee got to be the hero before Ken could do more than glare.

“You know, Marilyn,” Paul said, “I believe I need to go over the contract with you in detail. We’re not signing anything until I get a few questions answered.”

“But what about—”

Paul took Marilyn’s arm and physically pulled her off Ali. “I’m in charge of the contract part. My boss is in charge of the campaign and the company as a whole. So you and I are going to talk turkey somewhere else. Now.” Then he all but shoved Marilyn out of the room. He was half a step out of the door when he somehow managed to grab hold of Elisa. “You, too,” he said. Then he glanced back at Ken and shot him a wink. “Sink or swim, buddy.” Then he was gone.

Ken released a slow breath, beyond grateful to finally have Ali in the room alone. But right on the heels of that relief was the knowledge that it was all up to him now.

He tried another smile. “Okay, so now they’re gone.”

She nodded, but didn’t speak.

“So we’re clear, I wasn’t trying to hire you as a prostitute or anything earlier. I thought you were a model. I was trying to book you—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “I figured that out.”

“Oh, good. Because I was afraid…” He swallowed. Stay on track. “So I’d like to hire you as a model. But you work at a hospital. Then Marilyn said…well, she said your name was Flowers.”

Ali grimaced. “She wants me to change my name.”

“Don’t you dare!” Then he flushed, belatedly realizing that he had no right to tell her to do anything with her name one way or the other. “I mean, Flores is a great name. And Flowers is a stupid one.”

Her lips curved a little more and her eyes seemed to sparkle. “Don’t you like flowers?”

Was she teasing him? He didn’t know and so he didn’t know how to respond. “Um, well, sure, they’re pretty and all. And you are, too, so, you know, Flowers would be okay if you really want it. But I don’t think you should change who you are. Unless you want to change your name. I mean—”

She laughed, that soft chuckle that pressed every damn happy button he had. Then she pressed her hand to her mouth and her eyes widened. “Oh, sorry,” she gasped.

“For what?”

“I, um, I shouldn’t have laughed like that.”

“No, you should have. I’m falling all over myself today. I’m sorry. I’m trying to impress you and doing such a damn bad job of it.”

Again her laughter bubbled up, though he could tell that she was still trying to hold it back. “That’s so funny,” she murmured.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” he drawled. Usually when he tried to impress a girl. Once again he was choosing sink over swim.

“No, no!” she exclaimed. “It’s funny that you’re trying to impress me.”

He frowned. “Why wouldn’t I try to impress you? You’re beautiful and charming. And I want to hire you to be my Guinevere.”

She sobered and her expression showed true confusion. “But why? Why would you want me?”

And wasn’t that just the question of the hour? Paul had asked that, Marilyn, too. He gave the same answer that he’d given them. “Because you fit the part. You’re real.” He gestured to the stack of model photos on the table. “They’re not.”

She tilted her head, and he nearly lost himself in the curve of her neck as it met with a nice jaw, swooping up into a perfect shell ear.

“I bet if you’d met them, they’d be real, too.”

He snorted. “I have met them. Every single one of them paraded before me all morning. I only have to talk to them for half a minute to realize that they’re…well, they’re just like Marilyn.”

Her eyes widened. “Which part? Mad Marilyn where she decides my name should be Flowers? Or Scary Marilyn where she tells me I’ve got a dead-end job and that there’s nothing special about me unless I take classes from her and lose weight?”

“Don’t you dare!” Then again, he remembered that he didn’t have the right to tell her what to do and not do. “I mean,” he hastily amended, “don’t take classes from her. She’ll turn you into one of them.” He touched the nearest model photo and pushed it to the opposite side of the table.

“But I should lose weight?”

“What? No! You’re fine! And I can’t wait to see you in a corset.” Oh my God, had he just said that? “I mean…I think you’d look great in a…but not in a skanky way, you know. It’s the costume…And you’re beautiful in just what you’re wearing.”

She laughed. “I got it! Guinevere wears a corset.”

Thank God. She could understand his babbling. That was a plus as he seemed to be babbling a lot right now. And he really needed to stop. So he took a deep breath and decided to go for broke.

Sink or swim.

“Okay, here’s the truth.”

She looked up at him, her eyes dark, her skin flawless, and her lips—wow, those lips. He kept getting lost in looking at her mouth. And so, while he was still dazzled, his words began to flow.

“Back in high school there were two girls. Well, there were a lot of girls, but there were these two in particular. Stephanie was flawless. Tall, blonde, volleyball star and a mouth that was always dewy-moist like in those lipstick commercials.”

She blinked, and then she absently licked her own lips. His groin tightened at the sight. Her lipstick had mostly worn off, but that just made her more natural in his mind. No cosmetic mask, so to speak. Just her, clean and pure.

“Did you win her?” she asked.

“Geek me? No. But I did hang out around her at a couple parties, listening at the fringe, trying to fit in.”

Her lips curved. “I know it well.”

“And then one day I went from her crowd to the food table. I was munching on some chips when I started talking to Heidi. She was on the volleyball team, too, but wasn’t the star. She had a scar right here.” He pointed to a place right above his lip. “We started talking movies, then chemistry class, then philosophy.” He snorted. “Well, philosophy the way two sophomores in high school would.”

“How long did you two date?”

“That’s just the point. We didn’t. Not for another year and a half. But suddenly, I realized the difference between beauty and substance. Stephanie’s beauty ended up just leaving a bad taste in my mouth because it wasn’t real. But Heidi had substance. I could talk with her. We ended up being friends and that was so much better than being attracted by Stephanie’s flawless beauty.” He gestured to the pile of photos. “These girls are just another pinup, but you’re someone I can talk to. I could do it in the hall, and I can do it here. You have no idea how powerful that is. It means the world to me and will to the kids who are going to buy my product.”

She stared at him and he just looked back. Did she understand? “But actually, I’m kind of shy.”

He smiled. “I know. It’s like the difference between a whisper and a shout. I’ll tune out a shout. Everyone shouts. But a whisper? Now I’m intrigued. Now I’m leaning in to hear more.”

She blinked, and he wondered if he’d caught her. She’d certainly captured him. It wasn’t just her unconscious beauty, which certainly grabbed him. It was the way she bit her lip when she was thinking. The way she listened when he spoke. And the way she thought about what he said without just throwing back what she thought he wanted to hear.

“Let me explain what I’m planning.” He pulled a series of screen captures out of his folder and pushed them to her. “We’re launching this game.” He pointed at the cover image of Winning Guinevere.

“Wow. She’s gorgeous.” She traced the woman’s face with a long, tapered finger.

Looking at the design, he made a quick decision. “I’m changing the cover design. Blondes are overdone.”

She glanced at him but didn’t comment. So he took a deep breath and plunged into his pitch.

“Winning Guinevere is a take on the King Arthur legend turned video game. Players can be anyone in the legend they want—knights, fair maidens, Merlin, King Arthur or Lancelot. They can even be Mordred if they’re so inclined.”

“The betraying bad guy?”

Ken nodded. “He’s there to muck up the works, so to speak. But the core of the story is between Arthur and Lancelot. Who will Guinevere choose?” He lifted the page to show her another picture. “That’s you. Guinevere.”

She peered down at it. “I don’t look anything like her.”

“But you feel like her. And besides, I’m changing her look to reflect you.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re not serious.”

“I am serious. I can’t express how important it is to have the right Guinevere. She will make the campaign that should launch the product that—” He cut off his words. He probably shouldn’t tell her that this one product could make or break his whole company.

“And you think I’m Guinevere.”

“I know it.”

She looked back at the picture in front of her. Then taking a deep breath, she turned the page, looking deeper at the product specifications. “The point of the game is to win…me?”

“You. Your love. Your gifts.”

“Seriously?”

“That takes on very specific meanings depending on the player’s score. Plus, if they work very hard and do very well, then they get a discount on the purchase of Winning II.”

“And kids will do that? Spend hours on the game just to get a game bonus that isn’t even real?”

“And a sales pitch for the next game. Yes, they will.”

She looked skeptical.

“Trust me. They will because the game is that good. But I have to get them playing the game in the first place. I have to get them started, and I have to show them you.”

“Me.”

“Yes, you. Beautiful, sexy as hell, but approachable. Someone who would bestow royal gifts. Someone who understands them and is worth the time and money.”

“But I don’t understand them. I don’t—”

He waved that aside. “You do know them, you just don’t realize it yet.” He huffed out his breath on a sigh. “Look, I know this doesn’t make any kind of logical sense, but I know what I’m talking about.” At least he prayed he did. “You’re Guinevere, and I’d like to hire you to spend the summer with me.”

“With you?”

He flushed, his mind going to all the wrong things. “I mean, on tour with the whole crew. It’s an entire summer of buses and hotels. You’ll get time off, I swear, but it’ll be in a different city each week.”

He pulled out the schedule to show it to her. Not surprisingly, her eyes widened in surprise. “That’s a lot of dates.”

“Like I said, at least one every week. We do a different step in the story in every city. We start with Arthur and Guinevere getting married at the first stop, but with Lancelot in the wings. Then the next week there’s affection from Lancelot. Next Merlin plays a hand. After that, there’s Mordred causing problems. It builds throughout the summer until there’s a showdown between Arthur and Lancelot.”

“Who wins?”

“You’re Guinevere. You get to decide.” Then he flashed her a grin. “Well, actually we’ll see how the fan choices go. We’ll be blogging and getting fan commentary throughout the summer. In the end, the fans choose for you.”

She smiled up at him. “That sounds like a lot of fun.”

“It is. Exhausting but fun.” He pushed another page forward and prayed that she didn’t flinch. “This is the pay schedule. We cover all expenses and travel. I’m sorry, but my company is being cut to the bone to do this launch. I’m afraid I can’t offer more than this.” It was a lie. For her, he’d pay a lot more. He’d find the money somewhere, somehow. For her.

She nodded slowly, chewing on her lower lip as she looked at everything.

“And, um, I’m sorry, but I think the agency will take a cut of that. Marilyn will insist on that. Even if you don’t have a contract with her right now, I did meet you here.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I can’t see Marilyn giving up her piece of this.”

He sighed. After agency fees, the dollars weren’t great. Not bad for a summer actor. Good pay, actually. But he had no idea what she made at the hospital. He probably shouldn’t have reminded her about the agency fees. Let her think she was getting the whole amount so she had more incentive to say yes. But he didn’t want to lie to her, even by omission. Still, he was very aware that he might just have blown it.

“You understand that this is all take-home pay,” he said. “We’re covering all expenses.”

She nodded.

He waited. There was nothing more to say, but God he wanted to. He wanted to beg her to say yes. And as he sat there watching her, seeing the curve of her face, the fullness of her breasts and the feminine arch to her back, he started wanting other things, too.

She flipped through the pages and started reading the contract, her lips pursed as she concentrated. He looked at her lips and starting thinking of other things. What she might also do with those lips. Of what he could do to her to erase the furrows on her forehead. Of what they might do together that had nothing to do with contracts and everything to do with a whole lot of naked wonderfulness in bed.

That’s where his mind went and it was wrong, wrong, wrong! He was her employer—or he wanted to be. So he forced his thoughts down a more professional track.

It took him a while.

“So,” he finally asked. “Is this enough to make you quit your job at the hospital?”

She shook her head slowly. “No.”

His heart sank.

“But for a summer leave of absence? Yes.”




4


THE NEXT FEW WEEKS PASSED in a blur for Ali. The first worry was that she couldn’t get a leave of absence from her job. That turned out to be the easiest task on her list. Depressingly so. It’s not that her boss tossed her out the door. The man just sighed, asked her if she was sure—she was—and then approved it. It was a measure of how underappreciated she was there.

At least her coworkers were sad. Especially as she passed off one project after another into their hands. Ali consoled herself with the thought that in her absence, her boss would realize just how much she did around there. She couldn’t bear thinking about the opposite possibility: that no one would even notice she was gone. That was just too depressing for words.

Then there was passing off her plants, getting Elisa to check in on the apartment, and lastly to convince her family she wasn’t insane. She failed in that last task. Her mother rolled her eyes and asked who could possibly want Ali as a model. Not the most supportive attitude, but Ali was committed now. And even if she wasn’t, there was something that kept her headed toward her bizarre summer:

She’d started fantasizing. About her multi-cabillionaire boss. She’d always had a rich fantasy life. After all, she’d started out as a latchkey kid to a single mom. Plenty of alone time, plenty of time to lose herself in her imagination. That habit had continued well into adulthood where her imagination took on a decidedly mature aspect. And it was no different when she started dreaming about Ken.

It started out simply enough. As long as she was going to be working for the man, she decided to look him up on Google. There weren’t a lot of news items on him, but there was a ton about his games. The man apparently was more interested in getting press for his product than for himself. Her kind of guy.

There was nothing in the news stories about him being megarich, but that didn’t seem to matter to her libido. In her fantasies, he was über-rich, über-awesome and über into her. It all built off his smile. He smiled just like she did—a little nervous, a little happy, a little puppy dog. It was cute as hell. And the fact that he talked with her—his attention fully focused on her—well, that was an aphrodisiac all by itself.

Most people were kind enough to start by looking at her during the conversation, but all too soon, they were looking away. She didn’t know if she was just too boring to hold anyone’s attention or if people just didn’t have that long of an attention span. She’d learned to keep everything she said to short sound bites. She delivered her information, and then let whoever wander away. But that hadn’t happened with Ken. His attention had been like a laser light. At first it had been a little uncomfortable. But now, in retrospect, she really got off on it.

She wondered what it would be like to have him look at her like that during a date. Or better yet in bed. Yeah, her libido didn’t work by half measures. She wanted her guy to have that kind of intensity with her as he did everything to her.

She’d spent many a happy night picturing his eyes. But then she belatedly realized the man was going to be her boss. Oops. But even knowing that, she couldn’t stop herself. Didn’t matter what she did to distract herself, Johnny Depp morphed into Ken, Orlando Bloom…same thing. Two kisses into her fantasy, and he became Ken. Even Brendan Fraser, who had his own laser gaze, soon became Ken.

She would just have to remember that Ken could be her fantasy man at night, but during the day, he was strictly professional. Which worked great until they had their first face-to-face a couple of weeks prior to the promo tour.

It was a simple evening get-together at the offices of QG. Everyone involved in the tour was there—Ken, looking slightly harassed; his marketing VP, Paul; and five others. Ali arrived late, of course. She was still wrapping things up at work and had been caught in a meeting. So when she walked in the door she was feeling flushed and very not together. She hated being late.

That was bad enough, but then she got a look at her coworkers. They were all gorgeous. Every single one of them. Even Ken who—objectively speaking—was the most averagelooking of them all. Even he was oozing sexiness thanks to her nighttime fantasies, especially as his face lit up the moment she walked in the door.

“Ali! Great! I was getting worried something had happened to you.”

She swallowed, reminding herself that this was not fantasy playtime. He was her boss, and she should not be wondering what he looked like undressed. “Sorry. Got caught up in a meeting.”

“Bad one, huh?” he asked. Lord, there were six other people in the room, but he just talked right to her. Which, naturally, made her libido do a little happy dance, making the rest of her all soft and liquidy.

“N-not bad,” she stammered. “Just awkward. I’m unloading all my work off onto other people, and they don’t like it.”

“I get that,” laughed a honey-warm voice behind her.

Ali spun around and came face to chin with a blond god of a man. Holy moly, she’d known he was gorgeous the moment she walked into the room, but up close he was downright intimidating.

“Hi,” the god said in a steadily deepening voice. “I’m Blake, aka Lancelot, on a quest for gold that, thanks to your influence, becomes a noble mission for good.” Then he waggled his eyebrows. “I think you get to knight me!”

“Um…hi,” she said.

“Yeah,” said Ken, tugging her toward a seat. “Everybody, this is Ali Flores, our Guinevere. Blake, you want to grab those folders and pass them out? Thanks. Then we’ll go around the table and introduce ourselves. We’re going to be living in close quarters this summer, so I hope we can all be friends.”

Everyone took a seat. Because Blake was handing out folders, he was the last to find a chair and ended up being the farthest away. That, actually, was a good thing for Ali. He was too beautiful to be real, and she felt a little uncomfortable next to a man who was so much better-looking than she was. Sadly, everyone there was better-looking, or so it felt to her.

Blake was the only male actor. The others were girls of the bouncy, perky type. Blonde, brunette and redhead, they were clearly chosen because they were both beautiful and friendly. Except as the introductions went around, she realized that the blonde was Tina, Paul’s assistant and troupe costumer. The brunette was Ashley, aka Morgan le Fey. And the redhead was Samantha, who would be a tavern wench. Ali just nodded, pretending she knew what that meant.

She’d already met Paul, the marketing VP who would double as Mordred, betrayer of King Arthur. And naturally, Ken would play the king.

Obviously, the others were well used to this type of thing. They introduced themselves easily, talked about their acting experiences and the parts they would play, then gushed a little about how excited they were to be here. But when it came time for her to speak, Ali got flustered and tongue-tied. Unlike them, she had absolutely no experience whatsoever.

“Ali?”

“Um, right.” She felt her face heat to crimson. “I’m Ali Flores. I’m Guinevere. And…uh…I’m happy to be here.” It was a lie. At the moment, she wanted to be anywhere but here.

Then there was a long, awkward pause. Rationally, she figured it wasn’t really a long or awkward pause, but her imagination expanded it into something hideous. Good God, how was she ever going to learn how to do this in two weeks?

Fear started building inside her, but she kept it locked down tight. She’d already taken a leave of absence from her job, so she was totally committed. She’d just have to learn fast. So she paid extra attention all through the discussion of itinerary, accommodations, the game and costumes. Costumes were the most awkward because, apparently, the models/actors already had a lot of the things they’d need. The girls all had corsets, daggers and leather pants. Ashley had a neck chain that she’d been given as a joke. Blake even had his own sword and fur boots!

What did Ali have? Um…a blouse? Comfortable shoes?

“No problem,” Ken said with a warm smile. “That’s why Tina’s here. She’ll get together with you this weekend and get you all fitted.”

“Unless we can meet during the week?” asked Tina hopefully.

Ali shook her head. “My last day is next Wednesday.”

“That’s okay,” said Tina in a very perky voice. Was Ali going to have to learn perky? “How about we meet at Spiked Leather on Saturday morning? The owner knows me. He’ll give us a good deal.”

Ali could only smile and nod. Spiked leather? She didn’t remember Guinevere wearing anything that resembled spikes.

“That’s settled,” said Ken. Then he smiled at her. Lord, if it weren’t for that smile, she might have bolted right then. “We’ll need everyone to come next Thursday for the photo shoot. The address is in your folder.”

Photo shoot?

“And finally, we’re giving each one of you a copy of the game. Read the instructions. Memorize the product specs. And most of all, play it. A lot. Starting Thursday, you’re all on my dime. I expect you to spend all that extra time playing the game. When you’re not here, you should be trying to win Guinevere. Bring your friends over. Play with them, too. I expect every one of you to have gotten at least to Adept level by the time we leave.”

There were laughter and giggles all around. Apparently, for everyone else, finding playtime with the game wasn’t a problem. They all had gaming machines and friends who would fall over themselves to play. Samantha even giggled that she was so going to be queen with her brothers this weekend. They were dying to get their hands on this game.

The best Ali could do was paste on a smile. It had been a major accomplishment to hook up her DVR and connect up cable. She didn’t know an Xbox from a doorstop. Her brothers would know. They played enough video games, but they were more likely to play the game themselves and keep her out of it. No way did they have the patience to teach her. Besides, they both had jobs now and were busy with their own lives. Hell, what was she going to do? Then Ken touched her arm.

“Ali, do you think you could hang back for a bit? I’d like to talk with you if you’ve got the time.”

“Uh, sure.” She might have said more, but at that moment Paul came rushing up, camera in hand.

“I know you haven’t had time to have head shots taken, so I figured I’d just get this started here. If you could smile for me?”

Ali tried, but the sick feeling in her gut was getting worse. She obviously wasn’t doing it right because Paul dropped the camera and gave her an equally wan smile.

“Hmm, okay. Try this. Just lift your chin. Disdain. That’s good. Aloof? Yes.” He aimed the camera back to her face, and she belatedly realized it was shooting video, not taking still photos. Over to the side, the others were leaving, but Ali was still able to imagine their disdainful looks as she tried to show one emotion or another as Paul hopped around.

Then Ken stopped the man with a slight touch. “Do we really need to do those now?”

“Well, not normally,” Paul said with a slight grumble. “But somebody wants game Guinevere to look like Ms. Flores. The sooner we get some digitized images, the better.”

Ken shoved his hands in his pockets and looked awkward. “Oh. Right.” Then he glanced at Ali. “Sorry. This will only take a moment.”

“But—” she began. Too late. Paul had the camera rolling again.

“It’s best if I get all sorts of natural poses,” Paul said from behind the lens. “Hey, Ali, how do you feel about zombies?”

She blinked. “Um…bad?”

Paul chuckled. “Depends on the zombie, but okay. How about mass genocide? Republicans? Democrats? I’m looking for a strong emotion here.”

Ken stepped in. “Let’s go with the basics. Chocolate cheesecake.”

Ali gave him a grateful smile. That she could be passionate about. “I once offered to have sex with the next person who brought me a slice of black silk pie.” Then she immediately blushed. Had she said that aloud? “I was…um…I was in my apartment alone with my boyfriend at the time.”

Thankfully, Ken clearly thought it was funny. Paul flashed her a grin along with an eyebrow waggle. “And was it everything you hoped for?”

Ali shrugged. Might as well go with honesty. “Cheesecake, yes. Boyfriend, no.”

“Okay, last questions,” inserted Ken. “Ever seen someone kick a puppy? Trample flowers in the park?”

She frowned. “When I was a kid, we had a pet cat who was a huntress. I did everything I could to stop her, but she still caught things. Mice, bunnies, birds. It was awful the way she’d play with them. It was worse when she ate them.”

“Okay, that’s gross,” Ken agreed. “But it is their natural instinct.”

“I know. But it doesn’t mean I wanted to watch her do it. Or that I wanted her to gift me with her kills.”

Suddenly, Paul dropped the camera. “Perfect! That’s enough for the techies to get started with. Thanks, Ali!” Then with a wave, he moved over to the brunette who was just grabbing her coat.

Ali barely had time to remember he’d been filming her when bam, he was gone. It was rather disconcerting.

“He’s a high-energy kind of guy,” Ken said from where he stood beside her. “Especially right before a launch. He gets really jazzed on all the details and excitement.”

She watched as Paul simultaneously helped Ashley with her coat, passed Tina the camera while issuing instructions and still had time to flirt with Samantha.

“How many lattes a day does he drink?”

“Put it this way. I told him to just buy Starbucks. It’d be cheaper.”

Ali giggled, pressing her hand to her mouth as she did it.

“Don’t cover up,” Ken said as he gently pulled her hand down. “I like seeing you smile. Seeing you laugh is even better.”

Here it was. She’d been dreading it from the very beginning. It was one of those moments straight out of her fantasies where he had some reason to touch her and then they ended up just staring at each other. In her dreams, it took about two seconds for her to end up in his arms. Another ten before she was in his bed. But in real life, all she could do was look into his eyes and scream at her libido to shut up. No go. She just stood there looking while her nipples tightened and her belly trembled.

Hell.

Meanwhile, Ken seemed equally caught. He just looked at her, his eyes widening. She wondered if it was panic or terror. Part of her labeled it clear lust, but that came from her libido, which made up stuff all the time. She ignored it. And then suddenly, Paul was there, clapping his hands and completely breaking the moment. Ali jerked at the noise. So did Ken.

“Okay, Ken, I’ve got a zillion details to work out, but I’ve changed my mind about hanging around here eating dinner with you. I’m doing it at home with brandy and a cigar.”

“He doesn’t really drink brandy or smoke cigars,” Ken said in a low voice.

“I certainly do! But you’re right. Tonight is more likely to be hard lemonade. Can’t stand being in this building one more second and besides, there’s a Bulls game on tonight.”

Ali smiled. “That’s what my dad’s doing tonight. He’s a big fan.”

“Good man. Anyway, I’m outta here.” Tina rushed in with a big food sack and handed it to Paul, who promptly dug inside it. “Which means you get two subs.” He tossed the first wrapped foot-long sub at Ken, then the other.

“Hey!” cried Ken as he fumbled to catch the flying food. He got the first, but didn’t have a hand for the second. It caromed off his fingers and toward Ali. Thankfully, she had good reflexes. She managed to snatch it out of the air before disaster struck.

Fortunately, Paul had stopped throwing things. He just dropped the rest of the bag on the table. “I won’t toss the drinks at you. I know I’d be the one to clean up the mess.”

“Damn straight you would,” answered Ken, but Paul wasn’t listening. He’d already grabbed Tina’s arm and was asking her something about latex body paint. Two seconds later, Ken and Ali were the only people there. Not a problem, according to her libido. But Ali was working hard to be professional, so she firmly squelched the ideas running rampant through her brain.

“Um, you wanted to talk to me?”

“Oh. Um. Yeah. I noticed you got kind of a panicked look when playing the game came up.”

She swallowed. “Uh, yeah.”

“Not a big gamer?”

She shook her head.

“Ever played WOW? Warcrest? Legend of Zelda?”

She bit her lip and looked down.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “You understand, don’t you, that I need you to know this game inside and out? How to play, what to do—everything about it that you can learn in the next week.”

She nodded, feeling miserable. How the hell was she going to do that? But even as she was about ready to give up the job, her mind started playing out possibilities. Maybe she didn’t have a friend who was up on all the major games, but she knew where a game store was. She could talk to the guys there. Maybe they could teach her how to play. And while she was still thinking of ways around her problem, Ken pushed a sub sandwich into her hand. She looked at it then back up at him.

“Eat up,” he said. “Because right after this, you and I are going to party in the lounge.”

She stared at him, her lust doing a happy dance that was wholly inappropriate. Finally she managed, “Wh-what?”

“Adventure, mayhem, sex!” he quipped as he leaned across the table and snagged the food bag.

She swallowed, not knowing how to answer.

“Don’t worry. I’m really not that good at it. Not compared to the other guys. But at least I can make it fun.”

“What?”

He turned to her, his eyebrows raised. “We’re going to play the game. We’ve got it all set up in the lounge. I’ll walk you through the basics, then we can play it together.” He frowned. “What did you think I was talking about?”

“Um…nothing. The game. Of course.” Not like her libido was stuck on the word sex or anything.

“Trust me. I go easy on virgins.”

She had absolutely no response to that.




5


KEN LEANED BACK in the couch, his gaze on Ali. She had her lower lip caught between her teeth as she frowned at the screen. He didn’t even consider giving her a hint. First, because he had before and she’d told him quite clearly that she wanted to figure it out on her own. Second, because he had total faith that she could conquer this particular puzzle.

Because he’d learned in about ten minutes that she was smart.

She’d obviously not grown up with video games. Her eye–hand coordination wasn’t lightning-quick and she didn’t have the fluidity with the game controller that gamers did. So during fight sequences, she was at a severe disadvantage. But this game was as much about smarts as it was about fighting. In fact, he’d made sure the designers put in at least one smart solution to get past every obstacle. Brute force might help, but it wasn’t the only way.

“What if I try…this!” She rapidly moved her avatar around and experimented.

He didn’t answer. He already knew it wouldn’t work, but it was a good thing to try.

“Well, shoot,” she said and once again she started biting her lower lip. Even, white teeth. Red wet lip. God, he was hard for her. Hell, he’d been hard for her from the beginning. Sadly, he was her boss, so he held back. Besides, she was thinking and that was too sexy a sight for him to interrupt.

She grabbed her soda off the table and took another swig as she stared at the scene on the television. Then she thumbed through a few other screens, looking for a clue.

“Wait a minute…” she said.

There! She’d found it.

“Can you—”

“On it,” he said, quickly maneuvering his avatar to help hers.

“I’m going to—”

“I’ll brace you like this—”

“Now together—”

Bam! The Impenetrable Wall tumbled to the ground.

“Woo hoo!” she crowed, dropping the controller on her lap as she fell backward into the couch. “Damn, this game is hard!”

“You seem to be flying through it.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really.”

Then she looked down at the game box. “Well, the game is designed for teens. I suppose I ought to be flying through it, huh?”

He shook his head as he leaned back into the couch right beside her. They were close enough to touch. In fact, he shifted his leg enough that their knees and some of her calf touched.

“That’s mostly a violence-and-sex rating. A lot of these puzzles will stump a teenager.”

She laughed. “Well, that’s reassuring to my ego. I’m smarter than the average sixteen-year-old.”

And sexy, too, with her eyes dancing and her lips wet and so close. He wanted to kiss her. She was thinking it, too. Or at least he thought she was. Her gaze had dropped to his mouth and her body had stilled. The air froze in his chest. Could he? Could she?

Guess not because she abruptly looked away. “Gee, um, what time is it?”

Stifling his disappointment, he glanced at the clock on the gaming machine. “One twenty-seven.”

“In the morning?” she gasped as she leaped off the couch. “Holy crap! I’ve got to go to work tomorrow. Er…today!”

He straightened slowly, shoving his hands into his pockets rather than reach for her. “Can you call in sick?”

“On my last few days there? Just because I stayed up too late gaming?” She blinked a moment then released a short laugh. “I never thought I’d hear myself say that.”

He smiled. Impossible not to smile when she laughed like that. “Well, consider it research for your new job.”

“I still gotta say goodbye to the old one first.” Then before he could comment, she held up her hand. “And I’m not calling in sick.” Then she sighed. “But I may take the afternoon off if I can’t keep my eyes open.”

He nodded. “Sounds like a fair compromise.”

“I’ll remember that, boss, if this happens again over the summer.”

He was watching her slip on her shoes, noticing the flash of bright red on her toenails, when her words hit him. “Hey, that’s not what I meant!”

She laughed. “Too late. You already said it!”

He released a fake grumble then started turning off the electronics. “Wait for me. I’ll walk you to your car.”

“You don’t need to—”

He stopped her with a shake of his head. “It’s a safe area, but there’s no sense in taking chances. Besides, I need to get home, too.”

She stopped arguing, and he quickly closed up the office. A couple of minutes later he had his satchel/briefcase strapped across his chest and together they headed for the elevators. Fortunately, he’d had enough time to think of another conversation topic. Or perhaps an old one.

“So you don’t have a brother or a male cousin or a boyfriend to show you video games?” If he were honest, it was the boyfriend part he was most interested in.

She laughed. “Actually, yes to all of those things.”

His heart plummeted. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to notice and kept talking.

“Three brothers, all much younger. A ton of male cousins and even a couple of boyfriends along the way. But none of them had the patience to teach me how to play. Not like you just did.” Then she flushed. “Was it terribly boring for you? To wait while I figured things out?”

“What? No! I had a great time.”

“Liar.”

He held up his hand in a three-fingered pledge. “Scouts’ honor. I had a great time. I like watching people figure things out.” That was a lie. He liked watching her figure things out.

The elevator arrived and they stepped in. He let her push the button for the parking garage since he didn’t know what level her car was on. Meanwhile, she kept up the flow of their conversation.

“You’re a great teacher. And I gotta say that it’s a welldesigned game.”

“Really? What parts did you especially like?”

She paused, eyeing him a little warily. “You really want to know?”

“Of course I want to know! You’re a brand-new gamer! If I could figure out how to interest people like you, then my financial woes would be over.”

She paused a moment, and her eyes narrowed. “You have financial woes?”

He sighed. “Don’t worry. The launch is safe. Let’s just say if the game doesn’t sell well, then I will have financial woes. As in piles and piles of them.”

She nodded, and he could tell she was thinking about that. But in the end she shrugged. “Okay, here you go off the top of my head. I really liked the story behind the game…”

She rattled off a couple of the early sequences, surprising him with her answers. At first he thought she was giving him just generic “girl answers” as Paul would say. In general, girls preferred quicker puzzles, less brute force. But then she warmed to her theme, getting more detailed in her comments and critiques of the story structure. By the time they made it to her car, he wanted to pull out a pad of paper for notes.

“Wow,” he said, as she finally ended her comments. “That’s just off the top of your head?”

She shrugged. “I read a lot. I like fiction.”

“I’d like to hear more. Some of your ideas won’t work with what we’ve already got, but a couple of those were brilliant.”

She shook her head. “Now you’re just stroking me. None of that was brilliant.”

“You’d be surprised what a gamer finds brilliant. And believe me, that last idea about the character arc for Guinevere? That was brilliant.”

She flashed him a coy smile. “Well, thank you. I’m glad I could help.”

They’d made it to her car. It was a little yellow Saturn, and she unlocked it with her fob. The chirp of the car sounded loud in the garage. Exhausted as he was, he still hated to see the evening end. Apparently, she felt something similar because she turned to face him without opening her car door.

“This was a lot of fun. You’ve got a great game and…well, I just had a ton of fun. Like I haven’t had in years.”

“Rough couple of years?” he asked.

She shrugged. “No. Not really. Just settled into a rut. I work, I read, I occasionally have lunch with Elisa. I always thought my life would be more exciting. Instead, it’s just kinda routine.”

“You’re shaking things up now. You’re going on tour with us.”

She smiled. She shouldn’t have looked so good under the harsh parking-garage lights, but she did. She looked beautiful. He swallowed, feeling the need to touch her build inside him. “I, um, I really had a great time, too. And I really hope we can play more.”

Her eyebrows rose and too late, he realized what he’d said had a double meaning. “More of the game?” she asked.

“Yeah, more of that,” he said. And then he just did it. He kissed her. He’d wanted to since he’d met her, and she was right here.

She gasped in surprise, her body stilling in shock. God, this was wrong of him, but he couldn’t stop. He stroked his tongue across her lips, tasting the cherry flavor of her lip gloss. Would she open for him? Or was he about to be shoved onto his ass?

She softened. It happened between one heartbeat and another. She was stiff and tight, and then everything in her seemed to give way. He would remember the feel of it until the day he died. The way she just relaxed into his kiss, tilting her head to give him better access and relaxing her body. She might have melted into him, or maybe he just pressed forward, trapping her body against her car. Either way, she opened herself to his kiss and he was quick to take advantage.





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