KENSINGTON BOOKS

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      Contents

      Just Like Candy

      Hard Candy

      1

      She’d finally done it. Turned her porn star dreams into reality.

      Freshly showered with a fluffy white robe wrapped around her, Courtney Baxter exited the hotel suite bathroom and beamed at the naked male ass asleep on the coverless bed.

      Technically, it was more than an ass. A prime, hard-bodied, and excellently equipped specimen of the male species was attached to that fine backside. And she hadn’t exactly become a full-fledged porn star, or ever dreamed of becoming one, for that matter. But she had enticed Mr. Hot Buns into letting her videotape their wild antics.

      To think, less than two months ago she couldn’t score so much as a dinner date for her average looks and behavior. Now, thanks to a little guidance from her across-the-cubicle coworker at Pinnacle Engineering, Courtney was neither average nor lacking for men to date, dine with, or just plain do.

      Thanks to Candy Masterson, Courtney was a bona fide sex diva and loving every minute of it. A sex diva that was overdue to make her exit.

      The secret of having fun with sex, Candy had told her, was getting out while things were still going good. In other words, not sticking around until Mr. Hot Buns woke up from his post-orgasm slumber and Courtney had to face that awkward “I never got to know more than your sexual preference and marital status before I laid you” moment.

      The beefcake in mention shifted on the bed before rolling onto his back and trapping both the top and bottom sheet beneath well-developed calves. She held her breath with the idea she’d missed her getaway opportunity. Thankfully, his eyes never opened. He just started into some serious snoring that suggested he wasn’t waking anytime soon.

      Releasing her breath, she took advantage of his vulnerable state and slid her gaze along his body.

      Black hair covered his solid frame, thick on his head and groin, thinner on his chest and the rest of his big body. A mustache touched against his upper lip and, oh, the wickedly wonderful ways he’d used that coarse bit of hair on her.

      Her pussy pulsed with the memory of his mouth down there, his tongue inside her folds, lapping at her cream. Instinctively, her gaze drifted lower, past the solid expanse of his stomach to his cock. As if he could feel her watching him, his shaft stirred, rousing to its previously solid state. This time minus the condom so she could see every inch of steely male flesh. Plump pinking head. Pre-cum oozing from the tip…just waiting for her tongue to reach out and lick.

      Damn, it was tempting to shake the robe off her shoulders, climb back onto the bed, and let first her mouth and then her sex gobble up his erection.

      It was always tempting.

      But tempting fate by making it seem she was after more than a little harmless sex was not the point. Having fun was. Enjoying herself, her body, her twenty-six-year-old sex drive before it started petering out and she had to face the reality of an average life all over again.

      That rather depressing thought got Courtney moving as it always did.

      This time making her getaway meant more than chucking the robe and pulling on the red leather pants, black baby-doll top, and four-inch-heel stilettos that had taken her the better part of a week to learn to walk in without resembling a newborn foal taking its first steps. This time leaving meant gathering up her camera, tripod, and taping supplies.

      She moved as soundlessly as possible through the hotel room, searching out rashly cast-aside clothing and pulling it on. She was dressed and nearly finished storing the camera and accessories in their bag when Mr. Hot Buns’ snoring came to an abrupt end.

      Ten feet behind her, sheets rustled. The bed gave a creak.

      Courtney swore under her breath and went deadly still, silent. Pulse pounding at her throat, she felt far too much like she had when she’d gotten trapped by a wild boar on the outskirts of her parents’ blueberry farm.

      Cornered, and desperate for escape.

      Please stay asleep.

      “You should have woken me,” came a sleep-roughened male voice.

      She bit her lip to keep her groan inside. With the boar, she’d gotten lucky and her dad had come to her rescue. With the beefcake, her luck had run out.

      Aware the only way she was going to get out of this hotel room was with action, Courtney finished stowing the tripod and zipped up the camera bag. Hooking the bag’s strap over her shoulder, she pasted on her most sensual smile and turned around. Mr. Hot Buns sat in bed, his back to the plain wood headboard and his cock at full mast and calling to her from across the room. Even more than his willingness to go along with her videotaping desire, he’d been a great lay. Eager to please, again and again.

      She still had to go. Now.

      This sex game was about confidence, arrogance even, so she took her smile from sensual to smug. “Not on your life, buster. The way you were snoring, it was clear that I wore you out.”

      A frown twitched at his lips as he nodded at the camera bag. “Going somewhere?”

      She’d picked him out of all the men at the bar because of the self-assured aura he gave off. Now that aura was nowhere to be found. Now he was brooding—his cocoa brown eyes reminded her of a wounded puppy—and the country girl of her roots was threatening to resurface and make her want to jump him more than ever. “It’s late.”

      “I have this room till morning.”

      Yeah, and she had a personal promise to maintain. One that meant not permanently falling into the arms of the first guy who wanted her beyond an initial screw. “Sorry, but I have morning plans that require sleeping in my own bed tonight.”

      “I won’t be getting a number, will I?”

      “You said you were after a night of fun.”

      “I guess the whole videotaping thing made me realize you’re more than a pretty face and hot body.” His frown stayed in place a few more seconds, and then he shook it off and eyed the camera bag hanging from her shoulder. “Can I at least get something to remember you by?”

      Something to—Oh. He wanted a copy of her tape.

      Nerves ate at Courtney’s belly with the thought of truly being porn material for Mr. Hot Buns, and potentially his friends as well. She considered refusing the request. But then, it was his tape, too. And it would look incredibly insecure of her to turn him down for fear he would show it to others. She’d worked way too hard at this sex-diva thing to appear timid.

      “All right.” Really, she would never meet his friends or probably ever see him again either. Besides, what could one little naughty videotape hurt? “I don’t have an extra tape along, but if you give me your name and address, I’ll mail you a copy.”