Alistair could kiss her right now. But wouldn’t.
Not with Heather standing there.
Heather
hooked her arm through Bethany’s and started leading her toward The
Hollywood Harpy front doors. “You can’t stand out here on the sidewalk,”
Heather said. “You’re waiting inside, right?”
Bethany
glanced back at Alistair, looking for a lifeline. Too bad he didn’t have one.
He
followed them through the glass doors into the lobby and came face-to-face with
the reporter from Hell, Chessa Bond.
Between
these three women, the odds of him getting out of this interview with all of
his limbs—and his dick—intact were looking slimmer by the second. Maybe they
could just do the interview without him—talk about what an asshole playboy he was
and be done with it.
“Good
to see you again,” Chessa said, giving Heather a warm hug. “How are you?” The
question couldn’t have been more loaded. She wanted Heather to break down in
tears. The only question was whether Heather would play along.
If
he knew Heather—and he did—she would.
“And
you are?” Chessa asked, turning her attention to Bethany.
“Bethany
Stavars, but the name you used in the captions under my photos say Black
Betty.”
“Ah.”
Chessa raised her penciled-on brows, focusing her beady eyes on Alistair. “You
brought her home with you. The plot thickens.”
The
threat of an epic tongue lashing from Kent was the only thing keeping Alistair
from turning and getting the hell out of there. “Let’s just get this over
with.”
“I
won’t keep you long. I know you’re a very busy man.” Her thin lips slid into a
devilish smile.
This
was going to be a fucking nightmare.
“I’ll
wait for you in the S.U.V. with Kent,” Bethany said. “Nice meeting you both.”
She smiled at Heather and Chessa and took a step back like she was retreating
from an eminent attack.
Which
she was if she stayed one second longer. Kent probably shit himself in the
S.U.V. when he saw Heather and Bethany within one hundred yards of each other.
Alistair was surprised he hadn’t hauled his lazy ass out from behind the wheel
and run an intervention.
“No,
no.” Chessa said, grasping Bethany’s elbow and steering her toward a hallway
leading out of the lobby. “You’re as much a part of this story as Alistair and
Heather. Come on back to my office with us.”
Falling
into step behind Bethany, Heather slipped her fingers through Alistair’s and
tugged him along, swinging their joined hands between them. The look on her
face couldn’t be described as anything other than evil and determined. “You
won’t get away with doing this to me,” she said with a smile. “I’ll ruin you.”
Taste And Touch
“Why
don’t we start with you, Bethany? Tell us your side of the story,” Chessa said,
sitting behind her large desk with its zebra print blotter.
Somehow
she’d gotten Alistair to agree to letting her video record their interview
session. Bethany wanted to strangle him for ever walking into Dolls & Doms.
Maybe she should strangle Bradley Burton, the best man, for having Alistair’s
bachelor party there in the first place.
She
shifted in her chair, all too aware of the penetrating eye of the video camera,
and cleared her throat. “There’s not much to tell. I was working Mr. Ingram’s
bachelor party at Dolls & Doms. We thought it would be fun to role-play
some of the things I’ve been training him on for the Hues of Black and Blue audition. He thought his friends would get a laugh out of it. Unfortunately,
the events of the evening were misconstrued.” She folded her hands in her lap
and gave Chessa a tight smile, avoiding eye contact with the camera lens.
“So,
you’re saying that’s it?” Chessa said, clearly not buying the story.
“I’m saying that’s it,” Alistair said. “Leave her out of this. She did what she’s
paid to do—by Dolls & Doms and by me as my personal trainer.”
Something
in Bethany’s
Not with Heather standing there.
Heather
hooked her arm through Bethany’s and started leading her toward The
Hollywood Harpy front doors. “You can’t stand out here on the sidewalk,”
Heather said. “You’re waiting inside, right?”
Bethany
glanced back at Alistair, looking for a lifeline. Too bad he didn’t have one.
He
followed them through the glass doors into the lobby and came face-to-face with
the reporter from Hell, Chessa Bond.
Between
these three women, the odds of him getting out of this interview with all of
his limbs—and his dick—intact were looking slimmer by the second. Maybe they
could just do the interview without him—talk about what an asshole playboy he was
and be done with it.
“Good
to see you again,” Chessa said, giving Heather a warm hug. “How are you?” The
question couldn’t have been more loaded. She wanted Heather to break down in
tears. The only question was whether Heather would play along.
If
he knew Heather—and he did—she would.
“And
you are?” Chessa asked, turning her attention to Bethany.
“Bethany
Stavars, but the name you used in the captions under my photos say Black
Betty.”
“Ah.”
Chessa raised her penciled-on brows, focusing her beady eyes on Alistair. “You
brought her home with you. The plot thickens.”
The
threat of an epic tongue lashing from Kent was the only thing keeping Alistair
from turning and getting the hell out of there. “Let’s just get this over
with.”
“I
won’t keep you long. I know you’re a very busy man.” Her thin lips slid into a
devilish smile.
This
was going to be a fucking nightmare.
“I’ll
wait for you in the S.U.V. with Kent,” Bethany said. “Nice meeting you both.”
She smiled at Heather and Chessa and took a step back like she was retreating
from an eminent attack.
Which
she was if she stayed one second longer. Kent probably shit himself in the
S.U.V. when he saw Heather and Bethany within one hundred yards of each other.
Alistair was surprised he hadn’t hauled his lazy ass out from behind the wheel
and run an intervention.
“No,
no.” Chessa said, grasping Bethany’s elbow and steering her toward a hallway
leading out of the lobby. “You’re as much a part of this story as Alistair and
Heather. Come on back to my office with us.”
Falling
into step behind Bethany, Heather slipped her fingers through Alistair’s and
tugged him along, swinging their joined hands between them. The look on her
face couldn’t be described as anything other than evil and determined. “You
won’t get away with doing this to me,” she said with a smile. “I’ll ruin you.”
Taste And Touch
“Why
don’t we start with you, Bethany? Tell us your side of the story,” Chessa said,
sitting behind her large desk with its zebra print blotter.
Somehow
she’d gotten Alistair to agree to letting her video record their interview
session. Bethany wanted to strangle him for ever walking into Dolls & Doms.
Maybe she should strangle Bradley Burton, the best man, for having Alistair’s
bachelor party there in the first place.
She
shifted in her chair, all too aware of the penetrating eye of the video camera,
and cleared her throat. “There’s not much to tell. I was working Mr. Ingram’s
bachelor party at Dolls & Doms. We thought it would be fun to role-play
some of the things I’ve been training him on for the Hues of Black and Blue audition. He thought his friends would get a laugh out of it. Unfortunately,
the events of the evening were misconstrued.” She folded her hands in her lap
and gave Chessa a tight smile, avoiding eye contact with the camera lens.
“So,
you’re saying that’s it?” Chessa said, clearly not buying the story.
“I’m saying that’s it,” Alistair said. “Leave her out of this. She did what she’s
paid to do—by Dolls & Doms and by me as my personal trainer.”
Something
in Bethany’s