As Hot As It Gets (7 page)

“You're his boss—you're everyone's boss here at the resort. Do you really think anyone will be forth
coming with you about nefarious goings-on among their fellow employees?”

“If they want this resort to be a success, and if they want to keep their jobs, yes.”

“That's a little naive, Mason.”

“Don't you have some havoc to wreak somewhere?”

“You're not getting rid of me that easily,” she said, skirting his desk and closing the distance between them.

“Nothing with you is easy. That much, I've got figured out.”

“I was pretty easy last night.”

Last night—just the thought of their actions on the dance floor and in Mason's suite made her pulse quicken.

Mason cast a glance at her chest, then back up at her eyes. “Why do you want to stay here? I thought you said you'd had enough of me.”

Busted.

“I may have told a little untruth in the heat of the moment.”

“You haven't had enough of me?”

Claire licked her lower lip, biding her time. “I'm afraid not.”

She hooked her finger through his belt loop and pulled him toward her. He didn't offer much resistance, but instead stood and let their bodies come together. Yet, his arms remained at his sides.

Claire had to look up at him now since he was half
a foot taller than her. She could see trouble brewing in his eyes. Even more trouble than usual.

“Guess your plan wasn't as foolproof as you thought it would be, hmm?”

“Guess not,” she said, surprised by the uneasy sound of her own voice. She willed some sass into her next statement. “It might have been poor judgment on my part to think it would only take one night.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Maybe we need more like a week.”

“We?”

“Don't tell me last night left you completely satisfied—”

“I doubt I could get much more satisfied than I was when I woke up this morning.”

“You know what I mean.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I do. You really think a week will work?”

“Why wouldn't it? We can't stand each other outside of bed, so a week should be more than enough time. Don't you think?”

“Thinking doesn't seem to be part of this equation.”

“Sometimes thinking too hard is a bad idea.”

“You're the one who thought one night would do the trick. I'm not sure I can buy your logic.”

Claire decided a change of subject would be best. “I'm wondering if you can help me get my reservation extended through next weekend.”

Mason gave her a look that said he wasn't sure he wanted her around that long, but he went to his computer and sat down, then began typing. She peered over his shoulder at the reservation system, and a minute later he said, “Done.”

“Thanks.”

He turned and smiled at her. “I hope you'll be recommending Escapade to your clients at the travel agency.”

“So far, so good.” She smiled back. “I've found a few members of the staff to be extremely accommodating.”

“I can imagine.”

Claire sat down on the edge of his desk. “I just saw Mike D. at the Cabana Club. It didn't seem like you'd talked to him or anything.”

“You went looking for him?”

“I was hoping to pry some information out of him to bring to you as a peace offering.”

Mason frowned, the sexy crinkles around the edges of his mouth deepening. He had such a full, sensual mouth, a mouth made for pleasure….

His voice knocked her out of her daze. “That's very thoughtful of you, but you shouldn't have done it.”

Claire shrugged. “No harm done.”

Mason leaned back in his leather chair and began to rock, his arms behind his head. “I've been debating all morning how to handle this situation.”

“I'm a little surprised you didn't just fire the bartender.”

“It might be premature. If I can keep a watch on him, I should be able to find out who else is involved and shut the whole operation down at once.”

“Smart thinking.”

“How exactly do you suppose you can get any information out of Mike?”

“I'm already working on it. A little flirting can do wonders.”

“You not only went looking for him, but you flirted with him?”

“I didn't strip my clothes off or anything.”

“Is that a common reaction you have to men?”

She smiled, leaning in and tracing the outline of his rough jaw with her finger. “Only certain ones.”

C
LAIRE'S TOUCH
was enough to give Mason a hard-on. He was a basket case.

“Still, that was stupid. You could have gotten yourself in trouble out there,” he said, half dreading and half anticipating the fire that would light in her eyes.

He'd never been one to start arguments with women. In fact, he usually avoided conflict at all costs, especially since dealing with his vindictive ex and the Fantasy Ranch fiasco.

But with Claire, his whole approach to the opposite sex had been turned on its head.

“Maybe it was kind of dumb. I promise I won't pull any more crazy stunts if you let me stick around and help you solve your dominatrix problem.”

“How do you propose to help?” Mason said, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“I think first off, we need to do a little surveillance.”

It sounded like a surprisingly reasonable idea. “Okay, so we'll go to the Cabana Club tonight and watch what goes on.”

“You can't just drop into the bar and expect someone to hire a dominatrix in front of you.”

“You have any better ideas?” Mason said, pretty sure he wasn't going to like her answer.

“You can wear a disguise.” She smiled, and Mason knew he was in trouble.

“You mean like a wig and some funny glasses?”

“Something like that.”

“I don't think there's much of a supply of costume gear on the island.”

“What about for the shows?”

Oh, right. Escapade regularly flew in actors and other performers to do shows at the resort, and there was a well-stocked costume area backstage at the theater.

“I don't know….”

“Come on, show me where the costumes are.”

“This is crazy. I can't go skulking around my own resort dressed up like Elvis.”

“Not Elvis. I'm thinking we could go for more of a pimp look. Long fur coat, some platform shoes—”

“Not a chance.”

“You are seriously no fun.”

“That's not what you were saying last night.”

“Please. Don't flatter yourself. I just hadn't gotten laid in a while.”

Mason's groin went on alert again at the thought of last night. Yeah, he hadn't gotten laid in a while
either, so maybe that was why he was feeling so rabid for Claire. He made a mental note to stop working so hard and pay more attention to his neglected love life.

“Oh yeah? Having trouble finding a guy who can put up with your mouth?”

“I never have trouble finding a guy.” She stood up and walked to the door. “Let's go.”

“What kind of guys do you date, anyway?”

“Whatever kind I want.”

“Seriously. Do they let you take off with their cars whenever you want? Do they put up with all your crap without complaining?”

“I like my men to be the silent, physical type. Short on talk and long on action, if you know what I mean.”

“I'm afraid I do.” Mason had her pegged. She was the kind of person who liked to stay in control by surrounding herself with people who wouldn't stand up to her.

If she wasn't so damn sexy, she never would have gotten away with such behavior.

“Lead the way to the costumes,” Claire said, rising from his desk and heading for the door.

“Have you had lunch yet?”

“No,” she said, placing her hand on her nonexistent belly. “Now that you mention it, I'm pretty hungry.”

“Let's grab some lunch then.”

They headed for the nearest restaurant, where every employee tried not to gawk at the sight of Mason with a woman. So far, he'd avoided dating anyone on the island, so making a public appearance with Claire was sure to cause some gossip.

But he also liked to check out what was happening on his resort as often as possible, so this was his chance to not only sample the food but keep an eye on things in general.

He and Claire managed to eat lunch without a single argument ensuing, and by the time they were finished, he was shocked to realize he'd genuinely enjoyed her company outside of bed.

Probably, she was just on her best behavior to ensure she got what she wanted from him. Within a few days, he fully expected them to be getting on each other's nerves so much she wouldn't be able to find a flight off the island fast enough.

After lunch, they crossed the resort while Mason surveyed what was going on. The storm last night had caused some damage, but the grounds crew had done an excellent job of cleaning up fast.

While there had been some complaints about the weather canceling various events, overall, guests had been pretty relaxed, and complimentary bottles of champagne sent to the unhappy guests had smoothed over any wrinkles. Weather reports suggested the storm still hadn't finished with the island, but Mason
was confident his employees could handle whatever came their way.

Fifteen minutes later they were backstage at the theater, sorting through various disguise options, and Claire was having a little more fun at the task than he would have liked.

Standing at a shelf full of wigs on mannequin heads, she held up a wig with a ponytail.

“Hell no. I'm not wearing that.”

“Oh, come on. Try it—ponytails are sexy, and it's the same color as your hair.” She brought it over to him. “Besides, you're a guy. There's just not a lot we can do to make you look really different.”

He let her fit the wig on his head. But when she stood back and took in the sight of him in it, then burst out laughing, he growled and ripped it off.

“Okay, it was a little too girlish. I'll find something better.”

Claire went back to rummaging through wigs while Mason sorted through a bin of accessory props. Glasses, beards—none of it was going to look natural on him.

“Hey, look at this one.” She produced a short but shaggy medium-brown wig that reminded Mason of one of the Beatles.

“Hmm.”

She smiled. “I saw a mullet wig over there. You could wear that one and revive a fashion trend.”

“Okay, okay. Let's try the shaggy do.”

He bent his head down so that Claire could fit the second wig on him. She looked him over once it was on.

“Not bad. It's got a seventies thing going on.”

“I don't think I want to have a seventies thing going on.”

“It's just for an hour or so, for one night. For the sake of your business!”

“So what else do I need?”

“Maybe some glasses.” She spotted a pair on top of the bin of props. “Like these.”

Mason took one look at the glasses and shook his head. Claire put them on him, anyway.

She stood back and surveyed his disguise. “Do you have a silky shirt?”

“Don't you think I'll be a little obvious if I go in there looking like Danny Tario?” He took the glasses off and tossed them aside.

“I saw a guy yesterday dressed just like that—tight pants, shiny polyester shirt open at the collar, tinted glasses, shaggy hair—the works.”

It was true people felt free to dress however they really wanted when they came to a place like Escapade. If in their everyday lives they didn't feel comfortable dressing like a pimp or a hoochie-mama even though it was their secret desire, then at Escapade, they could let their real selves hang out.

Sometimes quite literally. The Uninhibited area of the resort was just that—a place to be completely un
inhibited, free from the shackles of clothing, free to show the world one's true self, so to speak.

Mason wasn't into nudism, but a lot of people were, judging by the popularity of the Uninhibited side.

Nor was he into dressing like a pimp. “I don't know, Claire.”

“How about if I dress up, too? It could be fun.”

“Dress up how?”

She grinned. “I saw a skimpy little silver slip dress over there that might be fun.”

Mason walked over to a rack of women's costumes and began flipping through them. When he came to the ones for a Las Vegas-style show, complete with tassled bras and a fringed skirt that left almost nothing to the imagination, he smiled at Claire.

“How about this?”

“Um, no.”

“So there's actually a limit to what you'll do to get attention?”

She crossed her arms and gave him a look. “You know, we're supposed to be going incognito. How can we do that if we look like a couple of freaks?”

“Exactly my point about the pimp-wear.”

“Okay, okay. Just wear the wig and some glasses with what you've got on.”

She went to the wigs and surveyed them. “I'll need a decent disguise, too, since Mike D. already knows me. Maybe we'll need a whole assortment of costumes to conduct our surveillance this week.”

“You've been hanging around Judd and Lucy too much. I'll have this problem dealt with by tomorrow, Tuesday at the latest. We're not going to become amateur sleuths.”

“You're such a spoilsport.”

“I think it'd be plenty sporting if you'd wear that showgirl costume.”

She smiled. “I've worn more interesting outfits than that to the grocery store. If it's entertainment you want, just give me a chance.”

She selected a long, straight platinum-blond wig from the shelf and went to a mirror to try it on. Mason watched as she transformed herself from a fiery redhead into a hot, trashy porn star.

“Nice,” he said, his body warming at the sight of her looking so delicious in a whole new way.

She turned and surveyed him from head to toe. “Don't get yourself all worked up unless you intend to do something about it.”

“I thought we were on our way to solve the great dominatrix-for-hire mystery?”

Not that he wouldn't mind a little diversion on the way, but the temptation to taunt Claire was irresistible.

“I'm game for anything,” she said as she closed the distance between them, her hips moving in a way that made him think of sex. “Things won't really get rolling at the bar for another hour, at least, don't you think?”

She was probably right. While the bad weather would send people to the bars early today, it would be at least a little while after lunch before any sort of crowd would gather.

She was standing only inches from him now, and her pink beaded tank top was flimsy enough that he could rip it off with one good tug if he really wanted to. She wasn't wearing a bra underneath, and yet her breasts were full, lush—mesmerizing in their unencumbered state.

He slipped his fingers in the waist of her white capri pants and tugged her against him. “Somebody could walk in on us here.”

“Privacy was the last thing on your mind last night.” She gazed up at him with a blatant challenge in her eyes.

“Last night was a one-time exception. Maybe this door locks.”

“I locked it when we came in here.”

“So you planned this all along?”

“I know how men react to blond wigs.”

“You're kidding, right?”

“It may sound crazy, but it's true. It plays into that guy fantasy of having a different woman for every day of the week.”

“Hmm.” He wasn't going to deny that the fantasy existed, but he was pretty damn sure the woman inside the wig had a hell of a lot more to do with his erection than the wig itself.

“This whole theater setting, you know—it makes me think of directors, desperate actresses, compromising positions….”

Mason slid his hands around her waist to her ass and pressed her hips against him. “What sort of compromising positions?”

Her voice grew breathy. “Like, maybe I need to give you something to get that private-investigator part I want so desperately.”

Mason watched as she licked her lips, slid her hands up his chest and around his shoulders, then took one of the buttons of his shirt into her mouth. Before he could stop her, she'd bitten it off and was going for a second one.

“Don't you know how to unbutton a shirt?” he said, though he could hardly give a damn if she cut his shirt off with a machete, so long as they got down to business.

“Sorry, I was just trying to demonstrate my acting skills. Guess I got a little carried away.”

Mason couldn't help the smile that played on his lips. He had to give Claire credit—she knew how to spice up just about any situation. “You know your part will have some nude scenes. I'll need to see your body, make sure it's camera-worthy.”

He pushed her tank top down to reveal her breasts, then took them both into his hands.

“What do you think?” she asked. “Would you call them camera-worthy?”

“Very nice,” he said. “More than suited to be the stars of the show.”

“I'm glad you like what you see,” she said, unzipping his pants and slipping her hand inside.

“I'll need to see a performance from you, too.”

Claire gripped his cock and massaged gently. “I hope you don't mind my taking a few liberties. This helps me get into my role.”

“I'll bet. You take whatever liberties you want.” His voice was tight now, his head starting to spin at the arousal building up inside him.

They'd just been together last night, and already he was so desperate for Claire it was as if they'd never had sex before.

“I do my best work sitting down,” she said, withdrawing her hand from his pants, then leading him to a nearby table.

“I'm looking forward to seeing your performance.”

“I think you're gonna like it.” She urged him onto the table and took his cock out of his pants.

Mason found a condom in his wallet, removed the wrapper and slipped it on as she undressed, leaving only her blond wig and her high-heeled sandals on.

“Nice costume,” he said as she climbed on his lap.

Her erect pink nipples, her narrow waist and hips, the delicious triangle of auburn curls at the apex of her legs—it was all Claire.

Utterly irresistible.

And yet the wig threw a whole new dimension
into the excitement. Not only that, but his own disguise made him feel as if he really were someone else, a sleazy director on the set of some B-movie.