On the Loose. Shannon Hollis
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little deeper in the keel, like Rory. Enough to make this charmer focus on her instead of on the little suitcase he held.
Never mind, Cinderella. You’re not at the ball to find a prince. Not unless he’s willing to give you a quote.
He inserted his key in her lock and turned it.
Snick. The two halves of the suitcase sprang open the way women probably welcomed him all the time.
Oh, my. Lauren hadn’t been expecting anyone to open her lock; she’d kept herself so focused on interviewing people that she’d sidestepped most of the possibilities. It was one thing to ogle this guy and appreciate him the way she did good food and beautiful scenery. But now that he had the key to her lock, she either had to let herself go and enjoy whatever he had to offer, or—or what? Leave?
Suddenly escape looked much less appealing than it had a few minutes ago.
“I finally lucked out.” He smiled down at her. “I have to admit I was here more for the benefit part than the key part. But now it looks as if the benefit is all mine.”
“We’ll have to see, won’t we?” Lauren sounded a lot more casual than she felt as she fished out the paper slip her suitcase held. “We turn this little piece of paper in to Maureen and get a prize, then she enters us in the big drawing. But you go ahead. I have to talk to someone.”
“Oh, no. We’re in this together.”
He offered her his hand and, instead of murmuring the excuse that fluttered on her tongue, she found herself taking it and allowing him to lead her to the stage. His fingers were warm and very sure as they wrapped around hers.
“I’m Josh, by the way.” He glanced down at her, one eyebrow raised. She’d thought only English actors could pull off that lazy, inquiring brow. It managed to transmit both interest and inquiry in one movement.
Sigh. No, you have to work tonight. Don’t you? “Lauren.”
Since he was already holding her hand, he couldn’t exactly shake it. He squeezed her fingers instead. He might have been about to say more, but behind a knot of people, Lauren caught a glimpse of the Alien Bodyguard kid’s leather jacket. Aha!
“Josh, I don’t mean to be rude, but I really do need to speak to someone.” She tried to disengage her hand. The part of her that loved forties swing music and bought antique clothes wondered why she was giving up a chance with a gorgeous, interested man in favor of a kid who didn’t even know who she was. “I’m a journalist, and I’m after that kid over there in the jacket.”
“Kit Maddox? No problem, I’ll wait.”
What circles did he move in that he knew the actor’s name? Maybe he was in the movie business. Maybe she should introduce him to Rory. But then, it was a safe bet he wouldn’t be there when she got back. Mentally, she kissed the delectable Josh goodbye and headed off across the floor.
Five minutes and one dance later—did anyone have any idea how hard it was to hold a recorder while someone was dipping you?—she had her celebrity quote. Now she could go home and make Lorelei eat some crow in public about her treatment of Alien Bodyguard, and go into a snit about it, which would make people respond on the chat board, which would make traffic spike, which would make the Queen of Pain happy.
She detoured around a couple who looked as if they were doing gym exercises to “Hot, Hot, Hot,” and found Josh standing right where she’d left him.
The impact hit her under the ribcage. Had he been watching her dance with Maddox? Had he liked what he’d seen? What presence the guy had. He stood there, one hip cocked and one hand in the pocket of his black jeans, in a pose straight out of GQ or Esquire.
The appealing thing was, he seemed to be completely unaware of both pose and the fact that women were ebbing and flowing around him like a crowd of interested muses. Lauren liked that in a man. Not that she thought everything should be all about her—except when it came to competing for the bathroom mirror.
He strolled over, parting the disarray with effortless ease. “I saw you caught Maddox. Did you get what you needed from him?”
He had been watching her, just the way she was watching him. “Yes, and now I need something from you. How do you do that?”
He looked around, a charming little wrinkle between his brows. “Do what?”
She shook her head with a smile. “Never mind.” If he didn’t know the effect he had on women, all the better. Though why she was thinking about sharing the bathroom mirror at all was something she didn’t want to go into at the moment.
“So tell me what you need from me,” he said. “Before I make a few suggestions myself.”
Lauren swallowed. His voice, even with a hint of a rasp around the edges, was as alluring as dark chocolate—and no doubt just as bad for you. But…her research was done and he was here and after all, it had been a long time since a man had looked at her like this.
“I need—” I need you to go somewhere dark and quiet with me. I need you to unlock my possibilities.
No, you can’t say things like that to a stranger. Mikki can, but not you.
“I need you to give me an interview,” she blurted. “I’m working on a piece about key parties and you’re gorgeous. I mean, perfect. I mean, perfect for my demographic.”
Oh, God, could she just die now and get it over with?
But when he threw back his head and laughed, she realized he wasn’t laughing at her. He had the same kind of let-it-all-out humor that Emma Constable, her foster mother, possessed. The kind that attracted people to her the way people always walk to a fireplace when they enter a room.
“Is that all you want me for?” Josh said at last, when his amusement had simmered down to a smile. He smiled with his whole face, eyes included, which were crinkled at the corners. “I was hoping for a little more than that. Such as a prize. And a drink. And a dance, too. To start.”
The smile took on another dimension, something hot and focused and filled with meaning.
Whoa. Lauren tried to take a breath and found she had to work at it. “Demanding, aren’t you?”
“Not demanding.” His eyes sparkled. “But when a woman tells me she needs me, I like to give her options.”
Oh, there were definitely options here. Excitement and anticipation began to beat in her blood. “Why don’t we start with the prize? That’s the easy part.”
“And the rest of it’s hard?”
Lauren gave him a sideways glance as she led the way to the stage, a glance filled with humor and invitation. “That depends on you, doesn’t it?”
He laughed again as they reached the podium. Maureen looked from Lauren to her companion and Lauren could swear the other woman physically restrained herself from reaching out and stroking him.
Lauren could hardly blame her, since she felt like doing that herself. Josh was incredibly touchable. The fabric of his shirt draped his shoulders and chest in a way that made you want to find out what was underneath. Most men wouldn’t have worn black jeans to a semi-dressy event like this, but then, she didn’t hear any of the women complaining about the way those jeans hugged him at thigh and hip. Or the way they accentuated his long stride.
Josh took the pair of tickets Maureen handed him and gave one to Lauren. “Dancing in the Street.” He glanced at her. “I can’t remember the last time I went to the theater. The way my work schedule has been, I think it was 1999.”
Uh-oh. Shades of Carl the programmer.
The jungle beat of anticipation in Lauren’s veins faded to a four-finger tap of disappointment. She knew the type—they romanced you just because they could, and then on Monday it was back to work in the corporate castle, where they felt safe and in control, and people were paid to do what they said, and they forgot