Playboy Prankster by Pamela Britton

Author:Pamela Britton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2010-10-26T04:00:00+00:00

“And so you just jumped into your rental car and drove away.”

“Yup,” CJ admitted to Deanna later that evening. “Although not without a few pit stops.” Delaying tactics, she knew. She’d been hoping that if Bryce made good on his threats, he’d give up waiting for her. She’d been right, too, because when she’d finally pulled up in front of her hotel room a half-hour ago, the sun having long since faded from view, he’d been nowhere in sight.

Thank God.

“Good for you,” Deanna said.

“Yeah, good for me,” CJ repeated. She sat at the foot stool-sized table, her Powerbook open, flying toasters banding together to save her screen.

“How’s the article coming?”

“Fantastic,” CJ clipped out.

“That good, huh?”

CJ stabbed at her computer keys, wishing they were Miles’s eyes. The toasters dissolved. Absently she started reading what she’d been typing prior to Deanna’s call. “I’m working on the story right now. It’s—” Her words halted abruptly as what she’d written formed into coherent sentences. She was horrified to note that she’d typed, for all the world to see, what it was like to have Bryce’s hands on her body, what it felt like to have his lips against her own, worse, what it might feel like to make love to him. “Shit,” she cursed.

“Shit?” Deanna questioned. “The article is shit?”

“No, no, no.” CJ released an exasperated sigh. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“I don’t know. If you’ve been reduced to swearing, it must be pretty good.”

“It isn’t. Listen. I should prob—” A knock sounded out. “—get going,” she finished vaguely.

“What’s wrong?” bionic eared Deanna asked.

“Someone’s knocking on my door.”

“’Bout time he got there.”

“Stop it.”

Deanna clucked like a chicken. CJ rolled her eyes.

That was when CJ heard the voice on the other side of the door. “CJ?”

CJ stiffened. Why that had sounded like—

“CJ, it’s me, Kathleen Seavers.”

She sat up, feeling a rush of disappointment. Kathleen? What the heck was she doing here this late at night?

She clutched the phone tighter before saying, “Deanna, I’ve got to go. I think she’s at my door.”

“She?”

“The woman I caught in Bryce’s arms today.”

“What!”

CJ ignored her. “I gotta go.” She hung up the phone, but not before she could hear Deanna’s irate voice screeching across the line.

Tip-toeing over to the window, she pulled the curtains aside a scant inch. It was Kathleen. Svelte and glamorous in jeans, white cotton shirt, and a black leather vest. CJ released the drape and went over to the door. She was just about to swing it wide when sudden suspicion made her peek out a small gap. “Is he with you?”

“Oh good, you are here,” Kathleen said, smiling at her in an all too friendly way. “He who?”

“Bryce, that’s who.”

“Bryce? Nope. Not here.”

CJ released a sigh of relief—or was it disappointment—and opened the door. “I thought this might be a set up.”

“It is a set up,” said an all too familiar masculine voice.

CJ stiffened, caught sight of Bryce out of the corner of her eye, yelped like a poodle being stepped on, and tried to slam the door.

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