Wait!
She knew the Chinese delivery man very well. And the pizza guy who delivered to the hospital. Didn’t they count? Every year, she gave them Christmas gifts, and she’d given them their own ring tones on her cell phone, too. “I have a very good life! One night won’t be the start of anything. Since when were you two closet romantics?”
Tingles attacked her, and the little voice inside her head taunted her. “Liar.”
With a vengeance, she shoved the darned thing away. Tonight would be fun, but that was it. Nothing more.
At that, her heart cried and crushed her chest. Dexter’s seductive smile flashed in her mind and her gut twisted with impossible sensations so she closed her eyes and willed him away. But he refused to get out of her skull.
Damn him!
Once and for all, she had to get him out of her system.
Dexter bristled. Why did Charity want Ben, too? His nemesis was a younger, flashier surgeon who loved ‘em and left ‘em faster than the sun rose and set-just what she’d wrongly accused him of doing.
He gritted his teeth and his fingernails dug into his palms. Women! He’d never understand the creatures, and Char was the most incomprehensible of them all.
Wishing he could read her mind, doubting he’d understand even then, he glared at her. The femme fatale merely tossed him a cool smile then beamed at the dork, Ben.
Was the head nurse trying to kill his ego? Or did she really have a thing for the other man?
Neither answer placated him. She might as well castrate him now and be done with it.
He tried to focus on Amy and all the money being raised to save kids like Debbie, but he couldn’t nudge Char completely out of his head.
“This is for you, Deb,” he murmured and forced his most charming smile to his lips, sauntered over to Amy and looped his arm around her shoulders. Then he took the mic. “A lot of you don’t know this, but I had a kid sister whom I adored. You’ve never met her and you never will because she died of cancer when she was nine and I was eleven. Two years after her death, a cure was found for her type of cancer because of generous benefactors like you. There are still a lot of families like mine, praying for miracles, and waiting for angels.”
He paused, trying to get control of the warble threatening to overcome his voice, and pointed to the crowd. After several moments, when he was able to speak again, he loosened his tie and undid the top button on his shirt then continued, “You’re their angels. I know that together we can still raise a lot more money to help. This is one of the richest communities in the world. If we can’t do it, no one can.”
As if Debbie had just died again, his heart broke and he swiped away errant tears. Sniffing, he accepted a tissue from Amy’s administrative assistant, Suzie, and dabbed his nose. God, he hated to cry in front of people. He lifted his eyes heavenward and could almost see Debbie with her angel’s wings hovering above, and he took courage from her.
Tears fell and tissues exchanged hands throughout the audience. Amy hugged him and announced, “Let’s do this for Debbie and kids like her. What do you say?”
Thunderous clapping rocked the room and bittersweet emotions fell over Dex.
Chapter Two
The following weekend it was finally time for Char to cash in on her special night with Doctors Hottie and Hunky. Cold feet didn’t begin to describe how she felt. Iced feet was a lot more accurate. She waffled between downright terror and excitement.
Since she’d bought two men, she’d hired two limos to pick them up and bring them to the rented hotel suite.
Shaking, asking herself for the billionth time what had been in her pea brain when she’d set up this fiasco, she triple checked all her preparations.
Wine chilling on ice.
Check.
Lobster in wine sauce.
Check.
Filet Mignon with shitake mushrooms.
Check.
Chocolate-covered strawberries.
Check.
Flavoured coffees.
Check.
Broiled baby asparagus tips.
Check.
Flaming cherries jubilee.
Check.
Rice pilaf.
Check.
Dim romantic lighting.
Check.
Scented candles.
Check.
Soft romantic mood music.
Check.
Clean red satin sheets on an extra large bed.
Check.
Leather, chains, and whips.
Check.
Condoms.
Check.
Gulp. She was a newbie to the world of BDSM, so who was she fooling? She had no practical experience with this stuff. The wildest she’d ever gotten was to get drunk and sleep with one man, do it doggy style and give him a blow job. She’d never done this kind of kink.
She’d never done anything kinky.
Her knees knocking and her skin clammy, she took another long swig of fortification from the wine bottle then wiped off the imprint of her lipstick with the heel of her hand.
Full of nervous energy, she bounced on the bed and certified the springs were top notch, ready for a raucous night with her two men. It’d better be for the outrageous price she’d laid out.
She sank onto the mattress, her diaphanous lingerie skirt fanned prettily about her, and she imagined herself naked with the two nude men, one on either side, ready and willing to be her sex slaves and eagerly fuck her without mercy. What a beautiful fantasy. But she wondered if the mechanics would truly work. Was there enough room in her for two big cocks to fit at once?
Her pussy quaked and her nipples beaded. Fit or not, she longed to find out for herself.
Laughter tinkled out of her mouth as exquisite visions entertained her. A man to lavish each breast. A cock for each hole. One to kiss her silly while the other ate her pussy.
Didn’t every straight woman long to be pleasured by two men at once? Why hadn’t she thought of this before?
Sarcastic laughter pushed aside her giddiness. Yeah, right. Like it was so easy to get one guy much less two. She’d paid $135,000 plus incidentals for one measly night with them. That didn’t guarantee they’d even get it up for her. For all she knew, they’d like each other better than they liked her. At least, she’d get quite a show. But that wasn’t her heart’s desire.
A yummy buzz stole over her, and she was tempted to imbibe more of the wine, but she didn’t want to ruin her night or heaven forbid fall asleep.
Finally, a rap sounded on the door, and she almost swallowed her tongue. She licked her lips, combed her hair and made sure her gown wasn’t crooked. Under her breath, she murmured, “Show time.”
As she reached for the door, her juices wet her thighs and her stomach quivered. “Who is it?”
“Dr. Hottie,” came a very dry, sardonic reply. “At your service, Mademoiselle.”
Her legs wobbled precariously on her sexy stilts and her spine tingled as her fingers eagerly opened the door to the hottest man on this or any other planet.
God but he was gorgeous in his tux with his black hair slicked back and his obsidian eyes glittering. She opened the door wide and allowed herself to drink him in, planning how to seduce every luscious inch of him.
“God, Charity. Cover yourself up. Do you want everyone to see your tits?”
Her alcohol buzz whined in her ears, and she wondered whom he was talking about so she stuck her head out the door and looked both ways down the deserted corridor. Puzzled, she drew her brows together and asked, “Who will see me? No one’s there.”
With a curse, Dex ushered her inside and slammed the door. Then he shrugged out of his jacket and covered her with it. He arched his brow and scowled. “Security cameras? Anyone who walks out of their door? Have you no shame? Are you drunk?”