Kept by Jami Alden

desk. The woman at the reception desk had assured her there was no one else in the spa, and, when pressed by Andy, that all cell phones and cameras had been confiscated.
    “You clear out the whole spa?” Derek asked. He found it hard to swallow that he could be so attracted to the kind of woman who needed a whole goddamn spa to herself.
    “You would, too, if someone took cell-phone pictures of you getting a Brazilian wax,” Alyssa snapped.
    He didn’t think he’d seen that one. But the mention of Alyssa’s wax job was enough to make his hands sweat and his mouth go dry.
    The receptionist flushed red and murmured an apology. “We’ve banned her from the premises, Miss Miles. And we’d like to thank you with a complementary honey wrap for being so understanding.”
    “Thank you, Gina,” Alyssa said and flashed the woman a dazzling smile. Then she handed Derek their purses, and she and Andy followed Gina back to the treatment rooms and left Derek to cool his heels with a back issue of Vogue.
    A honey wrap. He wondered what the hell that entailed. Imagined a woman trickling honey over Alyssa’s bare, smooth skin. He remembered in vivid detail exactly what Alyssa looked like naked. Especially the sweet, juicy fruit nestled between her legs, almost completely denuded of hair save for a dark bronze tuft of the sweetest, softest curls he’d ever touched.
    Cold. Calm. Professional. This is just another job. He ripped his thoughts away from Alyssa and reminded himself what he was doing. He had a job to do. That was it. He’d never gotten emotionally involved with any of his clients, and he wasn’t about to start now.
    Besides, the Alyssa he met the night of the charity auction and the woman he was assigned to keep tabs on were not the same person. Sure, she was still quick with a smile and tried to be friendly, but from the moment he sat down beside her in Van Weldt’s office, he’d felt cold standoffishness emanating from her in waves. Even her hand was icy when he’d taken it.
    So different from the sultry, flirtatious sex kitten who’d run her hot little hands all over his body. If he closed hiseyes he could still feel her fingers wrapping around his cock, sending him up in flames.
    Now she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.
    So he kept his eyes wide open, reminding himself sharply that the woman he’d taken home that night was an illusion. She was only having a little fun at the expense of the one guy in the world too clueless to know who she was. The girl who had her fake, toothy smile always at the ready as she met her adoring public—that was the real Alyssa Miles.
    But that didn’t stop his thoughts from wandering after a couple hours. What the hell were they doing to her that was taking so long? Sweat beaded under his collar as he imagined her, lying on a table, covered in honey.
    Was she getting waxed again? Was she at that moment lying with her legs parted as another woman reached down….
    He shifted in his seat, crossing his legs to hide his burgeoning erection. Shit. His thoughts were taking on the tone of a bad porno.
    He was jolted momentarily out of his daydreams by the trill of a cell phone coming from Alyssa’s purse. He ignored it. But when it rang three more times in quick succession, he figured it might be something important.
    Maybe he should bring her phone to her.
    Or maybe you’re looking for an excuse to go find out what the hell’s going on behind the pink doors.
    He pushed through the doors into a dimly lit hallway. The sweet, sultry scent was stronger back here, and wind-chimey new-agey music piped through invisible speakers. The hall was lined with closed doors. He listened at each one until he heard the low murmur of voices.
    He opened the door and felt all the blood in his brain make a beeline for his cock at the sight that greeted him. Alyssa was half reclined in a padded, upholstered chair. A fluffy white robe fell open at her knees as she propped herfeet on a stool.