Excerpt of A Little Bit of Blackmail by RC Bonitz

CHAPTER 1

"Hi beautiful. Waiting for somebody?"

She had watched him approach and wondered if he'd try to hit on her. He was a good-looking guy, with a smile that could light up the bar. Was he the right one though?

She sent him her best smile. "Sort of, but then again..."

"Ah, well, may I?" he asked, pointing to the empty chair across the table.

"Actually, that depends." He was tall and dark and handsome, but he had a bit of a beard. Not a bushy one, more like a country music singer's, small and close trimmed. That didn't quite fit Jessie's description, but he could have grown it in the last two weeks.

He grinned. "You're waiting for someone special?"

She sighed. How many times had this happened? "I am sort of, but I haven't met him yet. I'm kind of on a blind date, you know?"

"That lets me out then," he said easily, "I'm nobody's blind date tonight."

"Oh, too bad. What's your name?"

"Jason. But if your guy stands you up give a wave. I'll be around."

Diane smiled again, silently regretting her mission of the moment. He was cute. If only the timing were different. Not tonight, though. She watched him weave his way between the tables to join two other guys. Dumb—she could have gotten his phone number for future reference. Who was she kidding? Things never worked out easily for her, though if she could do this tonight she could probably make anything work.

The bar of the Hotel Lauren was crowded with people, the noise of conversation and clinking glasses almost drowning out the piano player in the corner. Diane let her eyes wander over the place again, taking in the warm wood paneling of the walls and the paintings that adorned them. Unusual decoration for a bar. Prints by Renoir, Matisse, and other Impressionists made the place look a little bit like an art museum. Somebody in charge liked fine art. Or else they were trying to impress.

She tugged at the hem of her dress and pulled the strap up higher on her shoulder. Again. Why had she bought such a skimpy dress? The black sheath was tighter than her skin, way too short, and way too low in back. And in front. She'd never revealed so much cleavage in her life. But, if you were going to seduce a man, prim and proper wasn't likely to get you anywhere. Whatever, she was totally uncomfortable. Jessie better appreciate this someday.

Her sister's humiliation would end tonight—or maybe tomorrow—once the creep understood what she'd do to him.

That was if she found him, and could seduce him and get the pictures she needed without her boobs falling out of the stupid dress before she finished. And if she got away from him in one piece. Five foot seven if she stretched a bit, with long dark hair and hazel eyes, her one hundred and thirty-six pounds of woman would be no match for a big man who wanted to grab her. Strong and healthy she was, but if he tried to hurt her she might end up in serious trouble. Everything would be fine, though. She was going to help her little sister. On the other hand, she could wave to Mr. Jason Whoever and forget the whole thing.

She studied a new guy as he entered the bar. With his dark, thick hair, broad shoulders, and that fabulous chiseled chin, he was one good looking guy. No beard, clean- shaven; he fit Jessie's description of the creep to a T.

If only Jessie had come with her tonight. All she had to do was identify the guy. After that she could have ducked out and left the rest of the deal to Diane. But of course, Jessie was working nights again this week and neither of them could afford to give up a paycheck. And little sister wanted to forget the whole thing. Just turn her life upside down and let the creep humiliate her without even trying to fight back. Of course, if anyone but her big sister tried to help she might even listen. Jessie acted like such a rebellious teenager sometimes. Well, someday she'd grow up, hopefully, and in the meantime someone had to protect her.

Diane sighed. She'd already picked the wrong guy twice this evening. If she approached every guy in sight someone might take her for a hooker trying to heat up a little business. The bartender had already given her the eye. Apparently, the man took a serious interest in the posh reputation of the hotel. Hah. The creep she was looking for could give him an earful on that score.

This new guy looked like he knew his way around the place. He said something to the pretty young waitress and drew a laugh. Pleased with himself apparently, he smiled as he greeted Mr. Worrywart Bartender, who was setting a drink on the bar as if he'd expected the guy.

The creep lived in the hotel. The staff seemed to know Mr. Handsome, so that fit. He had to be Mr. Brian Smith. What a shame. A guy who looked like he did should be a dream. Not a pervert.

Trembling with excitement and more than a touch of fear, she downed a hefty gulp of wine and almost choked. Her throat was as tight as the stupid dress. Palms suddenly slippery with sweat, she set the wine down before she dropped the glass. If she were going to go through with this, it was time to move.

She gave one last tug at the dress. Abandoning the Chardonnay, she began to drift through the crowd, heading for the empty bar stool next to Mr. Creep.

"Is this taken?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice from breaking. Cool, Diane, the secret word is cool. You have to come across as sexy-sultry, not a ditzy drip.

"What? No, go ahead," he said, sounding preoccupied.

She slid onto the stool. "Thank you. Chardonnay, please," she called to the bartender, and then, turning back to the guy, "You're drinking whiskey?"

"Scotch."

"I'm not much for Scotch. I hear it's an acquired taste, but I'm not into suffering to acquire it."

He didn't say a word; just sipped his drink and tossed a disinterested glance at her. His eyes stopped for a second, then ran over her face, down her neck and very quickly over her body. As visual undressings went, it was pretty tame. But he looked her over again, this time focusing on her face. And her eyes.

"Did I say something wrong?"

He shook his head. "Just thinking. Do I know you?"

"No. I'm Alicia. Alicia... Wentworth. Who are you?"

His eyes found hers again and he seemed to be thinking, deciding whether to answer maybe?

"Brian Smith."

He was the one! A thrill of nervous energy tore through her. She stuck out her hand and forced a sardonic smile." Hi, Brian. Nice to meet you."

His fingers felt warm and electric, as if they had made some kind of a connection, almost intimate. She jerked her hand back, but the smile stayed plastered in place.

"Do you come on to every guy you meet?"

"Come on? That's not very nice."

"You know what I mean."

"Just because a woman is friendly you think she's coming on to you? You certainly have a high opinion of yourself."

"That's been my experience." He gave her a crooked smile.

"Oh, sure. Well, don't let me keep you from the multitude of ravenous women lusting after you," she said, turning away as if to dismiss him.

He hesitated before he spoke again, then finally sighed and said, "Hey, I'm sorry if I insulted you. I just expected something different."

"You seem to have a terrible opinion of women." She turned to face him again, doing her best to look seductive.

"Who are you?"

"I told you. Alicia Wen..."

"I got that. I meant what do you do? Are you here for the convention?"

This wasn't going as she'd expected. He wasn't the smooth dude Jessie said he'd been with her. Maybe her approach was wrong. She had answers ready for almost any question he might ask, but at the rate she was going he'd probably tell her to get lost before she was done. Get it together, dummy. How hard is it to seduce a guy?