It Happened in L.A.: Ms Match / Shockingly Sensual / Playmates

Paul took the rejection in stride, his seductive smile not faltering. It occurred to Gwen that the seduction was all part of his package. His personal autosetting. Seduce and conquer. Of course he was successful. He’d been born for his work.

“Gwen?”

She slowed at the sound of her sister’s voice. Faith. Six years older than Gwen, Faith was a buyer for Neiman Marcus. Her fiancé, Bret, standing at her side, was also a buyer. The two of them were a match made in heaven. Between them, they almost had a whole brain. “Yes, Faith, it’s me. Gwen.”

“And who’s this?” Faith eyed Paul as if he were a hot new designer jacket. Her whole face lit up with curiosity, which naturally made her even more beautiful. Her sisters, all five of them, had been models at some time during their lives. Despite the fact that Faith was thirty-four, she still fielded offers from photographers.

“Paul Bennet, my sister, Faith.”

Paul bowed his head which made Faith sigh before she looked back at Gwen. “You must give me the name of the escort service. Not for me, naturally, but I know a lot of women…Anyway, it’s lovely to meet you.”

Gwen’s gaze shifted to Paul, catching the tail end of his shock. He regained his aplomb quickly.

“I see the bar.” He nodded toward the side of the room and completely ignored Faith and her idiotic statement. “Shall we get a drink?”

“I’d like that.” Gwen took his arm and they headed deeper into enemy territory. She thought about apologizing for Faith, but if she started down that road, she’d be apologizing the whole night. Screw it. She’d have a drink, see Paul off, then call a cab. It would be over before she knew it, and she could forget all this nonsense.

The orchestra was fabulous. The music was all the stuff she’d grown up with. Swing, mostly, with some old standards thrown in for downtimes. She hadn’t spotted her parents yet, but there was Danny and his wife, Sandy. And her sisters, Bethany and Eve.

Paul slowed as they reached the end of the line for the bar. “What would you like?”

“Gin and tonic, please.”

“No champagne?”

“Nope. To get through this night I need major fortification. In fact, make that a double.”

“Sounds very wise,” he said. “So how many of them are out there?”

She knew without asking exactly what he was talking about. “All six. Plus six mates.”

“Where do you fit in?”

She almost said she didn’t. “It’s Jess and Autumn after me. Everyone else is older, if not wiser. As I said, feel free to leave. I’m used to them.”

“I don’t know. That buffet looks great.”

“I’m sure it is. My folks know how to throw a party.”

He looked across the huge ballroom toward the orchestra. “I can see that. Do you dance?”

“We all learned. My parents were semipro when they were younger. We listened to swing bands instead of lullabies.”

“I had to go to a dance academy. What a nightmare. I got beaten up regularly, and no, learning to fox-trot didn’t help me become so light on my feet I came away unscathed. I had a permanent black eye until I was fifteen.”

“But are you happy now?”

“Well sure. I haven’t had a black eye in years.”

She grinned. “I mean about the dancing.”

“Ah. I suppose it’s good to know how, although there are remarkably few opportunities to use the skills these days.”

“That’s true. And sad.”

“There are some swing clubs in the Valley.”

The woman standing in front of Paul turned to stare at him. Paul coughed. “Swing dance clubs,” he said. “Although I’m pretty certain there are the other kind, too.”

The woman who’d looked at him was one of her parents’ golfing friends. They belonged to a club that cost a fortune and spent their days playing cards, tennis, even some lawn bowling. She was glad for them, that they had the money to live a leisurely retirement.

“Gwen, it’s so nice to see you. It’s been ages.”

What the hell was her name? It was Bitsy or Kiki or some other silly thing, but Gwen couldn’t recall. It didn’t matter, though, as what’s-her-name couldn’t take her eyes off Paul. “Nice to see you, too. This is Paul Bennet, a friend of Autumn’s.”

The woman nodded as if it all suddenly made sense. “Where is that sister of yours?”

“Rome.”

“Lucky duck. Rome is beautiful this time of year, don’t you think?”

Paul slid a glance at Gwen. “I’m sure Autumn would prefer to be here.”

“Oh, of course she would.”

Paul stepped closer, very close, although he didn’t touch Gwen. “My thoughts exactly.”

With a final somewhat bewildered smile, the woman turned away, leaving Gwen yearning for her drink and her escape.

“Is it all parties you dislike so much, or just family parties?” Though his voice was low, considering the noise in the room, she heard him. Felt his warm breath on the side of her neck.

“I prefer small gatherings. With lots of conversation and laughter. Ah, finally.”

They had gotten to the bartender at last. Paul ordered their drinks, and once they had them, she sipped as she led him toward the buffet. It was a huge spread, complete with an ice sculpture swan. Oysters on the half shell, colossal shrimp, crab legs, caviar. Everything was perfectly presented, the waitstaff attentive and polite. If only she could relax and enjoy herself. She juggled her glass and her plate until she had enough food to help ward off real drunkenness, then headed toward the far end of the ballroom where there were a few places to sit.

Paul found them two seats, and they joined a group of strangers. Gwen recognized some of them, but she had no names to go with the faces. It was nice, though, because the food and drink made chitchat difficult. She wondered if she should tell him again that he was free to leave, or if that would sound as if she was throwing him out.

“That’s got to be one of the sisters,” Paul said.

She followed his gaze to the outskirts of the dance floor. Bethany, the only sister Gwen was remotely close to, stood with her husband, Harry. They both looked gorgeous. Beth wore a long, shimmering silver dress that hugged her perfect figure. “That’s Bethany. Husband Harry. They have a girl, Nickie, who’s almost a year old.”

“Another one?” He nodded toward the front entrance.

“Yep. That’s Eve. Although I don’t see the rest of her brood.”

“I don’t think I can pick out any of the brothers.”

She glanced through the crowd, but she couldn’t find any of the boys, either. “I’ll point them out if they pass.”

“What was it like to grow up with so many siblings?”

“It was great when I was very young. Not so much later on. The competition was fierce.”

“Competition?”

“Unlike those delightfully cheery big families on television, our gang was all about points. Major points for football glory, modeling contracts, cheerleading squads.”

“What about academics?”

She waved her hand, the shrimp she held bobbing. “No one actually discouraged getting good grades. But report cards weren’t important currency. What about you?”

“There was pressure, most of it about grades. It was just me and my sister, Val. She’s three years younger, and damn smart. Scary smart. Me, I had to bust my ass.”

“You did well?”

“Yeah. I got into Yale, and they didn’t throw me out for a fraud. I studied prelaw, but much to the disappointment of my father, it wasn’t for me.”

“You’re lucky. You found your calling.”

“I am.”

She finished up the rest of her meal, digesting the fact that leading man Bennet had graduated fromYale. She probably should feel embarrassed at her own prejudice. In her experience men who looked like Paul didn’t go Ivy League. Her brothers had done quite well in life having attended middling colleges. They’d understood early that charm and beauty opened more doors than prestigious degrees.

“Is there something else you’d like? More shrimp? Another drink?”

“No, I’m fine for now, thanks.”

He stood up and she relaxed, knowing she would be free to leave soon herself. Paul held out his hand. Instead of a quick goodbye, he urged her to her feet. “Dance with me?”

“Oh. No. I—”

“Years of black eyes.”

She knew that breathtaking smile wasn’t really for her. It was all part of the game. What she couldn’t understand was what he was doing with Autumn? Yes, she was stunning, a knockout. But she was also dumb as a post. Gwen laughed at herself. Didn’t beauty trump smarts every time?

He tugged at her again, and she relented. It had to be the gin, that’s all. Surely she wasn’t fooled by his PR magnetism. As they went toward the dance floor, she looked down at her dress. She’d spent way too much on the damn thing, especially knowing she’d probably never wear it again. Still, when she’d tried it on, she’d felt so pretty.

She’d seen the dress in the window of a small Beverly Hills boutique and tried it on for a lark. How it fit her size-ten body made her feel more like a size two. So she’d closed her eyes to the outrageous price and excused her excess as a celebration in honor of a major win by her beloved Dodgers.

Finally, she would get to take the dress out for a spin. What did it matter if she danced with a pity date? She was allowed to have fun, dammit. Even here. Even with him.

PAUL KEPT HOLD OF HER HAND until they were in the middle of the crowded dance floor, afraid she’d try to escape if he let go. When he spun her into his arms, he was shocked to find her smiling. Not that tight, barely tolerant smirk she’d worn earlier tonight, but a real honest-to-god grin.

The orchestra broke into “Go Daddy-O,” and Paul got her ready. Gwen gave him a nod, and the two of them were off.

He hadn’t danced like this in years, since that brief swing craze had made the rounds. But it all was there, right next to his fox-trots and waltzes and sambas.

It helped that Gwen kicked ass.

Unlike almost every woman he’d danced with since grammar school, she knew how to follow. She could actually read his hand as he guided her, his feet before they made a move. If they hadn’t been wearing evening clothes, he’d have really let loose. He knew she’d love it if he swung her into the air or into a deep slide between his legs.

No matter, this was still exhilarating. Not as good as bed-busting sex, but it would do.

As he pulled her into a twirl, her head went back and she laughed out loud, a sound that made him laugh himself, just for the hell of it.

The whole thing was crazy. Dancing like a madman, dancing with Gwen. Enjoying himself so much he just might not leave after this song. One more wouldn’t hurt. The poker game would still be going if he stayed for a couple more numbers.

By the time this song ended he was sweating a bit, not completely winded thanks to his workout routine, yet he needed a minute. From the look of things, Gwen did, too. He could tell from her dancing that she was in good shape. It was odd. He’d never gone out with athletic women. Most of his dates were thin. Well, skinny. He liked the models, liked how they looked on his arm. They had never really wanted to do much. Of course, they never ate, at least not in front of him.

“That was wonderful.” Gwen fluttered her long dress, trying to cool down. “You’re really good.”

“It was worth the beatings, then?”

“I’d say so.”

“Drink first? Or wait to hear what they play next?”

Just then the band lit up the stage. Paul didn’t recognize the tune, but he sure got the beat. He grabbed Gwen and they did it so right they cleared half the floor.

They were both breathing hard after that number, and Gwen dragged him to the bar. She got water and another double, and he saw no reason not to do the same. Just as he’d finished his water, one of the sisters, Eve, showed up in front of them, her focus solely on Paul.

“I saw you dancing,” she said as she did a full body inspection. “How on earth did Gwen find you? Don’t tell me he’s one of your famous bar buddies.”

The question itself could have been harmless, but it wasn’t. Second sister, second dig. He glanced at Gwen and caught her midsigh before she took a healthy swig of her gin and tonic.

“He was a free gift with purchase. Gotta love those coupons.”

Paul took a step toward his date and put his hand on her back as he smiled brightly.

Only then did Eve look at her sister. Jesus, what the hell was it with this family? At least Autumn had been marginally complimentary about Gwen. Eve’s expression left no room for misinterpretation. She found Gwen distasteful. There had to be more to this twisted dynamic than looks.

He had a lot of experience with the subject. He’d won and lost friends over his looks and he personally set his standards very high, but he saw no reason to be so out-and-out rude about it. He half turned his back on Eve and smiled. “You ready for the next round?”

Gwen put her almost-empty glass on a drink tray. He downed the rest of his own, and they were off, leaving Eve without another glance.

This time, it was a samba, a juicy Latin rhythm, and once again Gwen was the perfect partner. The real surprise came about an hour later, after another round of drinks, when the orchestra decided to give the crowd a breather and some songs that weren’t meant to show off anything but how close two people could get and still keep it legal.

Paul didn’t think twice about pulling Gwen into his arms. He liked the feel of her there, the way she anticipated his moves. As he got a whiff of her perfume, sweet and smoky despite the workout she’d had, he wondered if she’d be just as responsive in bed.

“What’s the matter?”

He looked down at her. “What?”

“You stopped. Is something wrong?”

Shit. He started moving again, smile pasted on as he swayed to the music. After a few minutes he didn’t have to worry about the smile, or his thoughts. Of course he’d thought about her in bed. He was a man. She was a woman. Dancing was intimate work. It was all in the same genre, so to speak. It wasn’t a big thing. In fact, it wasn’t a thing at all.

It still wasn’t a thing later when he noticed the ballroom was half-empty. That the buffet was serving coffee and pastries. The night had gone by in a whirl of drinking and dancing. At some point, he’d met Gwen’s parents, and a few other brothers and sisters, all of whom made some kind of crack about him being her date, but mostly, they’d danced until they had to sit.

Each break, they sat farther away from the music and the crowds. She’d find the table, he’d bring the drinks and once he discovered she was also a rabid Dodger fan, the evening transformed yet again.

He’d have never guessed it could be so easy to talk to a woman when flirting wasn’t on the table. He’d met a lot of women who didn’t interest him that way, but he rarely spent a lot of time with anyone where there wasn’t an agenda. Tonight, he was off the hook. He was earning his points with Autumn, sure, but there really was no pressure. His world was never like this. It was always about either sex or money, somehow. Even his beloved poker games had an undercurrent of competition, and not just about the cards.

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to laugh too loud, to dance with abandon, to drink way more than was wise. One thing was for damn sure, he was in no condition to drive home.

“You okay?”

Gwen looked nice with her dark blond hair all loose around her shoulders. Or maybe it was the sheen. She looked sparkly, like her dress. “I need to find out if I can still get a room.”

She seemed startled until she checked the slim silver watch on her wrist. “Wow. It’s late. I mean early.”

“Yeah.”

“I hope they have two.”

He nodded as exhaustion slammed him in the back of the head. “If not, we’ll just get a taxi.”

“Where do you live?”

“Los Feliz.”

“That’s pretty far.”

“I know.

She looked up at him again. “I’m pretty drunk.”

“I know that, too.” Holding her hand, he led her out of the ballroom, all the way to the front desk. There were a few partygoers ahead of them, but that’s not what made his step slow.

He looked at Gwen, at her pretty dress, at her pretty glow. The feel of her was still in his hands, in the rest of him. “Hey.” He pulled her to a stop, then swung her around to face him. “How’s about we only ask for one room.”

“Why?”

He laughed. “You really have had a lot to drink if you have to ask.”

She stared up at him as if he was out of his mind. And who knows. Maybe he was.

Chapter 3

GWEN HADN’T BEEN THIS DRUNK since she’d stolen a bottle of blackberry schnapps from her parents’ liquor cabinet in junior high. She felt as if she were still dancing, twirling into oblivion even as she stared up into dazzling dark brown eyes.

She knew she hadn’t misheard or misread what he’d said. He wanted to finish the night off with a quickie. After a deep breath she got as steady as possible. “Are you insane? There’s no way in hell I’m going to sleep with you.”

His smile fell and he looked comically, drunkenly, disappointed. “Why not?”

Gwen pursed her lips, wishing both she and the room would stop spinning. “I’m drunk. Not stupid.”

“Hey. I never said—”

“Come on.” She tugged him closer to the front desk person. There were three people ahead of them. “Let’s get our rooms, then sleep it off. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I don’t see why you won’t at least consider it.”

The funny thing was, he didn’t sound particularly smashed, but she knew how much he’d put away. Of course, the proof was in his offer. No way he would have wanted her if he was in his right mind. And frankly, although he was a fabulous dancer, he was involved with Autumn. That alone disqualified him. The thought made her shiver.

“Hey,” he said again, only this time the single word was filled with a world of hurt.

“What?”

“I saw that cough-syrup look. I didn’t think I was that bad.”

Damn. She smiled as brightly as she could while trying to keep her balance. Oh, man, did her feet hurt. “That wasn’t about you.”

“Then what?”

“Autumn.” She winced as soon as the word came out. She hadn’t meant to say that.

“My Autumn?”

“Look. We’re next.”

He turned, overbalanced, but caught himself at the last minute. “I guess I drank a lot more than I thought. When we were dancing I didn’t feel nearly this shaky.”

She nodded, but stopped immediately as the motion made her stomach chime into a chorus of unsteadiness. The whole situation was ridiculous. She didn’t want to stay at the hotel. She had nothing with her, no change of clothes, not even a toothbrush. But she also didn’t want to take a taxi home, because just thinking of the ride made her queasy. Queasier.

At the front desk, it took Paul a few minutes to get out his wallet, then he slapped down a credit card. “Two rooms, please.”

“I’m sorry, sir. All we have available is a single room.”

“Two single rooms, then.”

“Actually, there’s only the one.”

Paul looked at her. Then back at the reservation clerk. “We’ll take it.”

“Wait a minute.” She drew Paul back a bit from the desk.

“Don’t worry,” he said, before she had a chance to protest. “You can have the room. I’ll get a car.”

“No. I’ll get a car.”

He shook his head. “Absolutely not. You need to go to bed.”

“So do you.”

He stared at her until he started swaying. “Fine. We’ll share.”

“Uh…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be a perfect…uh…”

“Gentleman?”

He pointed at her. “Yes.”

“Okay, then,” she said.

Gwen wasn’t worried—not about Paul, at least. She was concerned about not being ill. And the lack of a toothbrush. Along with the key, the nice reservation man handed Paul two baskets, each filled with all kinds of necessities. Everything they’d need to get through the night. Including two shiny condom packets.

As if.

THE ROOM WAS SERVICEABLE, the bed a queen. Gwen thought again about calling for a cab, but the night’s excesses cesses won. She took her little basket into the bathroom and closed the door.

The contents were enough to get her by, only just. No makeup remover, no face cream. She brushed her teeth as she debated the pros and cons of keeping her dress on. It was a beautiful thing and she wasn’t sure how it would do if slept in. The alternative, however, was bra and panties. Perhaps if the lights were off. If he were asleep. If she could manage to remove her clothes without falling flat on her ass. As it was, she was barely keeping her balance with a hand on the counter.

She brushed her hair, then washed her face. It took a good deal of careful wiping to get most of her mascara off her eyes. When she was done she felt better. Slightly.

What she really needed was water. Lots of water.

When she came out, Paul was leaning against the wall, his tie off, his shirt half unbuttoned and his jacket on one of the chairs. Despite everything, he managed to look obscenely handsome. “It’s all yours.”

He gave her a decent smile, considering, and took her place behind the closed door. If she was going to take off her dress, now would be the time to do it. First, though, she got a bottle of water from the minibar, then she kicked off her shoes. As she yanked the covers down, the reality of sleeping in her dress seemed too uncomfortable. Before she could change her mind her dress was off and she was scrambling under the covers as quickly as her poor body would move.

The minute her head touched the pillow the seriousness of her folly hit hard. It had been years since she’d felt this horrible spinning sensation, years since she’d been fool enough to even approach being drunk.

Why? Why had tonight been so different? It wasn’t just the pity date. She’d had plenty before and never gone overboard. It wasn’t just her family and their stupid comments. If she wasn’t used to that by now, she might as well just give up. It couldn’t have been Paul. Yes, yes, gorgeous, right. But so what? She wasn’t the one who was fixated on good looks. Or charm, for that matter.

None of her relationships, other than familial, were based on appearances. The only things she cared about were on the inside. She’d learned early that kindness was a huge thing, even more important than intelligence and wit. She’d built her life around that very principle, and it had made her, for the most part, happy.

Although Paul had shown kindness tonight, she wasn’t at all convinced it was genuine. He was after Autumn. That revealed a great deal.

It didn’t matter, in the end. She’d gotten drunk. So what. Tomorrow, her real life would continue. She’d remember the dancing which had been such a fun surprise. And she’d use tonight as another reminder that too much alcohol was not her friend.

For now, she’d be very happy if the damn room would stop whirling.

She heard Paul leave the bathroom, but she didn’t turn to look at him. She closed her eyes, even though that made things a lot worse.

She felt the covers move, his weight dipping the mattress. The room went dark with the click of a switch. Then she felt him slide in beside her.

Her eyes open once again, she willed herself to pass out so she wouldn’t be so very aware of this man, this virtual stranger, stretched out beside her. He groaned, and she sympathized. A few seconds later, after he’d made some adjustments, he stilled. She relaxed.

She could smell him.

Nothing at all unpleasant about it. Soap, clean skin. Damp hair. Intimate.

She became achingly aware that she was in her underwear. Her plain department store panties and bra.

Was he in his? Boxers? Briefs? Those sexy European trunks that looked so appealing in the magazines? Surely he wasn’t naked.

Her eyes closed again, and this time, she was the one to moan. Not just from the dizziness, either.