"Oh. My. God." I stared numbly at the television.
The phone started to ring as the reporter started to replay
the video footage and I reached out for the phone. My hand
connected with it and I dragged it to my ear. I swallowed
hard as the replay of the video of my favorite client
strutting out of a well-known BDSM club with not one but
two women continued.
"Hello."
"Jesus H. Christ." Kristen Travis groaned in my ear. "Please
say it's fake."
No. I knew the man well enough
to know that it was him. Joshua Keller-every delicious inch
of him encased in leather pants and a too-tight
T-shirt-star soccer player, one of my mostly heavily
endorsed clients, so James Bond British he practically
gleamed in the sun, and much to my utter shock a sexual
deviant.
I reached out and grabbed my DVR
remote to record the footage. "Shit."
"Yeah."
Kristen sighed. "Come on, Tara, what did we do to deserve
this?"
"I don't know but my father was right. I
should have gotten into corporate PR. It was a mistake
specializing in athletes. Look at this crap!" I paused the
recording when it centered on his face. "It's old."
"What?"
"Unless he's shaved off his
goatee this is old; at least six months."
Six
months old. Yes, at least six months andwe could manage
that. Couldn't we? My company was entirely too new for me
to fail at handling such a public display of bad judgment on
the part of one of my biggest clients. Sure, Joshua had
never been a choirboy and when he'd come to Atlanta he'd
brought with him a reputation for loud parties, indiscreet
women, and barhopping.
"Yeah. You're right.
He's very attached to the facial hair. I tried for three
hours to get him to shave last week for that modeling gig.
He outright refused."
I was glad; the look was
dead sexy, and if I were right, it would certainly help
defuse the situation that was quickly developing. "Has this
hit national news yet?"
"No, but it's on the
web so it's just a matter of time before we start getting
phone calls asking for statements. Even if it's old, it's
still brand-new news."
She was right and
that presented a problem that I did not want to think
about. Though getting one of my clients on a national news
broadcast had appeal, one normally hoped for charity
events, not innuendos of threesome sex and BDSM clubs.
"Did you have any idea he had ...?" Kristen
paused. "How exactly can we spin it? I mean if he likes to
tie up women and spank them ..."
I pursed my
lips and glared at the television; the mere thought of him
enjoying something like that had my pulse racing in a very
different way. As sexy as the man was I'd never seriously
considered hooking up with him because I'd figured he
wouldn't be up for that kind of rough sex play.
"Men won't care, but women ... At least some will try to
paint him as a misogynist who gets off on hitting women."
"Yeah, that's so not good." Kristen groaned.
I jumped at the sound of my doorbell and stood
from the couch. "I have to go. Someone's at the door."
"I'll try to figure out what to say besides 'no
comment.'"
"Yeah." Though I wasn't all that
convinced there was a damn thing anyone could say that
would make the situation any better.
I went to
the front door of my apartment, still clutching the phone,
and jerked it open. Joshua. The man looked like sin, the
kind of sin my mama had assured me would send me straight to
hell. A year and a half of being his publicist and I still
couldn't look at him without my panties getting wet.
I glanced over his face, taking in the
still-present goatee, his short black hair, his finely
chiseled face, and nice very kissable mouth before I met
his gaze with my own. Dark blue eyes stared back at me,
intense and thoughtful. He'd been at my home once in all
the time that I'd known him and that had been for a company
dinner party.
"You know I prefer to meet
clients in my office."
"I didn't figure this
could wait until tomorrow."
I stepped back and
motioned him inside. "Already getting questions?"
"Phone and e-mail." He shoved his hands into his pockets
as he stopped in front of my television. "HD?"
"Of course." I sat down on the couch and watched him as he
started to pace. The black slacks he wore molded quite
nicely to his ass with each turn.
Objectifying
men was something of a hobby, and my job was totally to
blame. I spent all day selling some of the finest bodies on
the planet for advertising and endorsement. It was a bit
disturbing how much of a product I viewed some of them.
"How old is it and do you have any idea who recorded it?"
"At least a year. I haven't been in the
Playground in a long time and I have no idea who filmed it
or what else they might be sitting on. I haven't always
been discreet about my sexual liaisons but I've put a
serious effort into behaving since ... well, for a while
now." He stopped pacing and turned to face me. His
expression spoke volumes about the state of his temper. The
barely leashed anger was oddly attractive.
"Okay." I took a breath and tried to refocus. "At least
that's something. We can say that video is old and try to
leave it at that."
"Don't yank me around,
Tara." He motioned toward the television. "We live in the
freaking south and the people around here are so repressed
that I'll be some hell-bound pervert inside the next twelve
hours."
"At least we won't have to worry about
the metrosexual factor anymore."
He stilled
completely and turned to glare at me. "Pardon me?"
"We've had feedback that perhaps you were too
fashionable, too put together to be straight." I pursed my
lips. "It's not really a problem among your female fans and
now that male fans think you've lived out their favorite
sexual fantasy ... They were twins, right?"
He
looked briefly at the television before focusing on me
entirely. "Yes, I believe so. So what kind of fallout am I
looking at?"
"I doubt you'll lose any of your
endorsement deals; we might have to do an interview or two.
You'll have to discuss and if necessary downplay your role
in the lifestyle. You're a Dom, right?"
He
raised one eyebrow but gave a short nod. "But I'm not a
sadist."
"No, you didn't strike me as that
type."
But suddenly Joshua did seem to be the
sort of man who might like to control every aspect of a
sexual encounter. How on earth had I missed it? I crossed
my legs and tried to get comfortable on the couch. I really
missed sitting behind my desk in a suit; at home in shorts
and a T-shirt I didn't feel nearly as powerful and in
control as I figured I needed to be to deal with a man like
him.
"You bloody Americans ..." He paused and
flushed. "Sorry."
"We're not all sexually
repressed religious zealots." I bit down on my lip, stunned
that I had let the words fall out of my mouth. "I mean, not
everyone is going to think you're going to hell."
He was silent as he crossed the distance that separated
us and took a seat on the couch beside me. "What do you
think?"
"Why does it matter what I think?" I
took a deep breath as he picked up one of my hands and held
it between his. "Joshua?"
"You're going to be
making statements and answering questions about this for
the next few weeks. At least until some starlet is
photographed without panties. I need to know if knowing
this about me disgusts you or makes you feel differently
about me. If it does ..." He rubbed his thumb across the
top of my hand. "I need to know you're in my corner on
this, Tara. That's why I'm here. I could give a fuck what
most people think. I'd land on my feet professional if
things went to shit here in Atlanta. What I need to know is
that I've got you on my side."
My fingers
tightened against his even as I relaxed beside him. "Did
you know that you're the only single client I have who has
never once hit on me?"
He laughed softly,
brought my hand up to his mouth, and kissed it gently. "You
deserve better than a man like me."
"Is that
so?" The thought was a little irritating. I deserved a lot
and I figured a man like him could do a lot to set my world
to rights. My body was already humming at the
possibilities.
"I travel too much and let's not
forget"-he jerked his head toward the television-"I'm a bit
pervy."
Hadn't I thought the same thing just
minutes earlier? Of course, truth be known I was just as
deviant as he was. I liked a little pain and a lot of
dominance with my sex. I'd never gone to a club like the
Playground, not because I wouldn't have enjoyed myself but
because I was afraid that I would enjoy it too much.
The last man I had dated had been so vanilla
that I'd practically fallen asleep during sex one night.
I'd ended it before I wound up embarrassing myself.
Joshua's thumb brushed over the top of my hand
where his lips had been all too briefly and I straightened
up.
"Well, we have plans to make."
His grip tightened as I started to leave the couch. "Tara."
What could I say that wouldn't reveal my true
position on his lifestyle choices? I forced myself to relax
back against the couch. "I'm not disturbed by discovering
you like ..." What the hell did he like? He'd said he
wasn't a sadist but had offered little other explanation.
"Please tell me you're the average run-of-the-mill guy with
control issues and an occasional need to spank a woman's
ass."
I turned to look at his face just as his
mouth dropped open.
"Excuse me?"
"Look, reporters are going to find those two women and they
are going to be interviewed and they are going to talk
about all the freaky sex you did have and probably make some
stuff up, too. Do you get off on any extreme fetish play
and if you do, did you with those two women?"
"Most would consider any aspect of BDSM extreme fetish
play," he replied softly, obviously unwilling to answer the
question.
"Yeah, well, I'm not most people."
Fuck. That was not what I meant to say.
"Are you asking me for a play-by-play description of my
sexual exploits with two women from over a year ago? I don't
even remember their names!"
I jerked my
fingers free from his hand and bolted up off the couch.
"Well, we'd damn well better find out their full names so
you'll know who they are. Otherwise, you'll be a hell-bound
man-whore deviant who's slept with so many women he's
forgotten half of them."
"Man-whore?" he
asked, his voice low with shock.
"Well, you did
take home two strange women." I took a step back as he
stood. "That's certainly man-whorish behavior. And what's
up with the leather pants?"
He glanced toward
the TV and crossed his arms over his chest. "They suited
the occasion. As for your question, no-I'm not into
anything extreme. At the most, I probably tied those two
women up, spanked them a little, and made them beg for my
cock. Which I'm sure I gave to both of them repeatedly
until I could not move. But honestly, I don't remember the
night specifically; they aren't the last pair of women I've
had in my bed."
Beg for his cock. My
mouth watered, my nipples tightened against the soft
material of my T-shirt, and wetness rushed between my labia
at that naughty thought. I cleared my throat and tried to
push back the unexpected slap of lust that rushed over my
body. "Is that your kick, then? Two women?"
"No, not normally." His gaze roamed over me, lingered on my
breasts, and then focused on my face. "Frankly, very little
has satisfied me over the last year and a little excess
goes a long way toward making a man forget that."
"Well, stop that! No more double dipping until this
blows over." I pointed my finger at him and took another
step back when he glared at me. "It's my job to manage your
public image."
"It's not your job to tell me
who I can stick my dick into."
I flushed and my
gaze immediately dropped to his crotch. "Well, you and your
penis have made enough of a mess already so for the next
good while I am going to be telling you where you can and
cannot stick it!"
"Then I suggest you stop
talking to it because despite what you women might think
that head doesn't make the decisions."
I jerked
my gaze back up to his face, stunned that I'd actually been
staring at his groin, and blushed. "I wasn't talking to
your dick, you jerk."
"Could have fooled me."
My phone started to ring and I made an immediate
grab for it. Talking to anyone would be better than
continuing this conversation.
"Hello."
"It's on CNN."
Sonya Carson. She was the
third member of my PR firm and another close friend. Both
she and Kristen worked their butts off with me to get the
Marcus Group off the ground. They were like sisters; only I
never had to worry about them tattling to my daddy when I
did something they didn't like. I glared at Joshua as I
perched on a chair a few feet from the couch.
"Great."
"Our answering service is losing their
mind," Sonya chuckled. "God, he looks hot in those pants.
Of course, honestly, he looks hot in just about anything. I
bet you five bucks those two women are already arranging to
get paid for a tabloid interview."
"No doubt."
"I told you taking him on would be difficult."
She had. Repeatedly. I glanced toward him and
found him pacing in front of the still-paused television.
"Yeah, I remember."
"Have you had any contact
with him?"
"He's standing in front of my new
flat-panel television plotting something. He's either going
to steal the TV or try to reach through it to strangle
himself." Joshua flashed me a grin and walked back to the
couch. "The video is at least a year old, so someone has
sat on this for a while. Maybe they didn't realize it was
him and only just discovered they'd caught someone famous
on their camera."
"Or they have more goodies to
share and that's just the start. I think we'll see another
video or maybe pictures any day now."
"Well, it
isn't like the world hasn't seen his bare ass already." I
glared at him when he laughed. It was one of the reasons my
company had been hired to manage his image. He'd been
caught in the Bahamas skinny-dipping with a woman. "And a
sex tape could make us all some money."
"That's un-fucking-believable...." He stopped, obviously at
a loss as to how to deal with such a prospect.
"Kristen is running through ideas for a public statement and
we still need to get in touch with Joshua's agent. In the
meantime, tell the answering service that they can stop
taking phone calls for our firm and please do not turn our
voicemail on. I don't want five hundred messages waiting
for us tomorrow."
He was back up and pacing by
the time I hung up the phone. "Gary is on vacation with his
wife and kids. I'm sure he'll call me as soon as he gets
back to his hotel room and catches wind of this."
Gary Moorsey was his agent and had been since the day
Joshua had come to the United States. "Don't you think we
should call him?"
"He told me he wasn't
carrying his cell phone to freaking Disney World. I'm sure
he's trying to play grab-ass with Snow White even as we
speak."
I couldn't help but laugh. Gary was
from all accounts faithful to his wife but he was fond of
the female ass in such a way that I always made sure that
he never got in proximity of mine.
How bad was
it really? Atlanta's new soccer star coming out of a fetish
club with two women? I bit down on my bottom lip. It was
bad enough. It would amuse men, outrage militant feminists,
and set the devoutly religious on a tirade that could last
for months.
"So what else are you hiding?"
"Pardon me?"
"Look, I was under the
impression that you were keeping your nose clean. No
skinny-dipping, no loud parties with barely clothed college
girls, and the last time I checked you were dating a very
respectable lawyer. Now look at you." I waved my hand
toward the television.
"That is a year
old, at least," he reminded me through clenched teeth. "I
have done my level best to remain within the image plan you
set up for me. I don't drink to excess, not even at home. I
wear the right clothes, with the right logos. I wear the
right fucking shoes when I run on my own goddamned street.
I joined the gym you suggested; I go to the parties you
determine are good for my image."
Okay, so he
was mad. I forced myself to remain perfectly still under
his gaze as I considered what I should say. I knew he hated
the endorsement deals, the image management. It wasn't hard
to imagine how it must have felt to wear workout clothes
not because they were comfortable but because someone paid
him to. "Okay, so the lawyer?"
"She started
hinting that she wanted a ring. So I pushed her off."
He said it as if she'd demanded he get a sex
change or something. "Joshua." His name left my mouth in an
exasperated rush.
"What?" he demanded. "Can't a
man find a steady piece of ass who won't be mentally
shopping for a wedding dress within six months?"