Kayla's Cowboy Fantasy (Delta of Venus Inc.) (12 page)

"I think that's the problem. You said she rejected all those Fortune 500 bozos at the conference, right? Let me guess, they were total metrosexuals like you, right?"

"I am NOT a metrosexual. I do no, I repeat, do not, get manicures or highlights. I just dress neatly. And try to comb my hair occasionally." He ran a hand through his thick gold strands.

"Whatever you say, but I think your intended victim likes her men a little rough around the edges. If you want to make her fantasy a reality, you're going to have to butch it up a bit." She smirked, knowing this challenge to his manhood would drive him crazy. No one with eyes could doubt his masculinity, but she couldn't resist needling him a bit. He totally deserved it for bringing Damien up earlier.

"You're kidding, right?" He seemed downright perturbed that anyone would suggest he was running low on testosterone.

She couldn't help it. She giggled. "Okay. Yes. I am kidding. But in order to get her engine revving you're going to have to do a lot more than show up wearing a $500 cowboy hat and some designer jeans. You know, leave some dirt under your nails, and don't shave for a couple of days. Use poor grammar. And swear. A lot."

"Are you serious? You think a sophisticated woman like her can't get hot unless she's with a total cretin?"

"Yes. I do. And don't use the word 'cretin.' Ever. She wants a good ol' boy. And that's what we're going to give her, right?"

He tipped an imaginary hat at her. "I reckon so, little lady."

"Now, that's the spirit. Do you think you can lose your city slicker polish by Thursday? She's leaving for a conference in
Chicago
on Friday, and won't be back for another week or so."

"I'll be ready. Have her meet me at the farm. I'll be so dirty and dishevel
l
ed, she won't be able to resist me."

Elizabeth
gave him a withering look. "I meant rough around the edges, not stinky around the armpits."

Nick laughed. "Don't worry. I think I know what she's looking for." Just three days and he would be living out her fantasy. Not to mention his own. He couldn't wait.

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Holly's
Dream Lover
Fantasy
 

Book 2 ~ Delta of Venus Inc.

By Verena Vincent

Prologue

Holly wasn't quite sure what woke her up. All she knew was that one moment she was sound asleep, alone in her queen-sized bed as usual, and the next she was completely awake and absolutely certain that something was wrong. At first she thought maybe she had been startled out of her slumber by the screech of a passing ambulance's siren or perhaps a dog barking outside her window. But that wasn't it. Those sounds were common enough and had never given her this feeling of panic upon waking. This was something else. Something close and personal. And very, very threatening.

Her impulse was to reach over and turn on the bedside table lamp and vanquish her paranoid delusion with just the turn of a switch, but some instinct told her that would be a very big mistake. If she startled a thief she probably wouldn't survive this encounter, especially if she could identify his face.

Unsure what to do she stayed perfectly still, trying to keep her breathing as deep and regular as possible. She didn't know why, but it seemed important to appear like she was still asleep.
 

Waiting in the dark for something to happen was torture. She became hyperaware of her surroundings. Her white sheets, fresh from the laundry, felt cool and crisp against her skin. The scent of her own strawberry-scented organic shampoo tickled her nose and she remembered that she'd gone to bed with her long, curly hair still damp from the shower.
 

Most of all she was cognizant of her heart's frantic thump. It sounded unnaturally loud and urgent in the still room, and she thought how odd it would be if she went into cardiac arrest at the age of 29. Of course, if she truly wasn't alone, then a heart attack might just be preferable to the alternative. But she refused to think about that.
 

Unable to sustain the horrible anticipation a moment longer, Holly opened her eyes just a slit. She'd been half-expecting to see someone standing there, looming over her, but she seemed utterly alone. Nothing out of place. The room was very dark, but her bedside clock illuminated her surroundings enough that she was able to discern the shape of her bureau against the far wall, and the silhouette of her reading lamp on the bedside table. No sign of an intruder and yet something wasn't right. What was it exactly?

Scanning the room, something on the floor caught her eye. The cherry hardwood floors looked black in the moonlight, but the fluffy yellow throw rug next to her bed was quite visible. There was something on it. Something dark which did not belong.
 

She thought back. Had she left an item of clothing there? She wasn't typically a clean freak, but she rarely left things just lying around either. If she didn't feel like putting something away she had a tendency to throw it in her walk-in closet to deal with later. But she supposed she could have just left her jeans lying there. She had been tired last night. She'd worked late and had fallen into bed after slipping on the lacy pale lilac camisole and matching boy-short panties she was currently wearing.

Squinting her eyes, she tried to make out the exact shape of the item on the floor. It really didn't look like clothing. It looked like a bag or a knapsack of some sort. Could she have brought her camera equipment in here? Didn't seem likely. She usually left everything in her temperature-controlled dark room on the other side of the apartment.
 

This is ridiculous
, she thought to herself.
Why am I lying here wondering about what's on my rug, when I could just flip a switch and satisfy my curiosity?
She was just about to reach over and turn on the light when something made her freeze. It was the bed. It had shifted, just slightly. She hadn't moved, so there was only one explanation. Someone else was here. On the other side of her bed. Waiting.

Adrenaline shot through her and she closed her eyes tightly again, hoping this was some terrible nightmare brought on by her poor diet and penchant for horror movies. But it wasn't a dark dream. It was happening. Now that she was aware someone was in the room with her she could actually hear his shallow, even breathing.

Trying to think rationally, she attempted to come up with a plan before he got tired of waiting. Were there any weapons nearby? No. Nothing. There was a security bar in the patio door frame on the other side of the room, but she doubted she could reach it before he fell upon her.

If she screamed, would anyone hear her? Yes. She lived on the bottom floor of a quaint turn-of-the-century building in downtown
Vancouver
. There were thousands of people sleeping and living within shouting distance of her.

But if she screamed, wouldn't he be likely to panic? And maybe hurt her before someone came to her rescue? But the odds were that he was looking to harm her anyway. Why else would he be in her room at night? Better to scream and stand a chance than lie here and wait for him to reveal his sinister purpose for being here.
 

Drawing in a deep breath, she was just about to unleash an ear-splitting screech when the sound of knocking shattered the silence. It was coming from the front door of her apartment and was followed by a commanding voice.
 

"Holly Chambers? This is the VPD. We've had a report of a prowler. Please open up and let us check the premises."

The voice shocked her out of her paralysis and into action. She dropped to the floor and was scrambling forward like a startled jackrabbit, intent on putting as much distance between her and the dark form on the bed as possible. She got to her feet and threw open her bedroom door with enough force to send it flying against the wall. She didn't look behind her but she was vaguely aware of movement away from her and towards the patio door.
Oh, thank God. He's not going to grab me
, was her only thought as she sprinted through her dark apartment towards the front door and, hopefully, salvation.