Mr. Hotness Read online

  Most of her texts were from friends congratulating her on the launch, but the last one stopped her cold.

  Bella Angelica, you’re never far from me. The red dress you’re wearing accentuates your sensual, full breasts, and it won’t be long until you’re mine—body and soul.

  Paranoia grabbed hold and choked off her breathing for a moment. How did he get her new phone number? She’d changed it because this crazy had been harassing her nonstop. And how the hell did this sick fucker know she’d changed into a red dress? No one but her security detail had seen her when she’d left from a private garage under the building. Glancing at the two burly men in the front seat, she shook off her doubts. They were old enough to be her father, for god’s sake! She’d requested two older, experienced security guards for this trip, and the firm had assigned her Army Rangers who had retired with over twenty years of service.

  Quickly deleting the message, she dismantled her phone as her brother, Marc, had instructed her to do whenever she got one of those messages. He’d told her to forward them to him as soon as possible, so he could attempt to trace them. While she stared at the dismantled phone pieces in her lap, she realized her brother would have a hard time trying to trace a deleted message.

  The thoughtless action of removing the message from her phone plagued her the entire drive to the airport. When she boarded the plane, she felt better at putting some distance between her and her nightmare. The flight home, while offering some comfort, also amped up her fear about being the object of someone’s sick fantasies. By the time she reached San Antonio, she’d worked herself to a new level of paranoia. Then as the plane touched down, she got a grip on her panic. She was home and in one piece. This nightmare hadn’t been able to reach her.

  Home. The only place the stalker who’d made her life a living hell for the last year hadn’t found her. Even her New York security detail didn’t know where she lived. The overwhelming relief of seeing her brother at the terminal took her tension down a notch. Knowing he would be escorting her back to her house made her breathe easier. She needed to tell him about the message. Her overprotective brother would find a way to end this once and for all. But she’d deleted the message and, with a sinking heart, knew he’d be angry. She held back mentioning her latest incident with the stalker as he poured her a glass of wine while she eased into the leather couch. It helped to have a cop for a brother.

  “What’s bothering you?” He handed her the wine and sat at the opposite end of the couch.

  “What makes you think anything is bothering me?”

  “You were quiet the whole way home. Before you left, I couldn’t shut you up. What happened?”

  Angel smiled and sipped her wine. They’d always been close and could talk about anything. Marc had made a startling confession to her when he’d questioned his masculinity because of his feelings for other men. She remembered trying to talk him out of his decision to join the Marine Corps to prove he was a “real man.” He’d joined anyway and discovered himself not only solidly gay but also very much a man. They’d stayed in close touch even when he spent most of his six-year stint in Iraq. On his return, he joined the San Antonio Police Department, becoming a highly decorated officer in the Gang Violence Unit.

  “I got a message….” she began.

  He sat up, alarmed. “What kind of message?”

  “You know….” Even saying she had a stalker aloud was difficult. In a perverse way, she felt as if acknowledging the actions of this twisted person would give them power. And, she refused to give someone that sort of say in her actions and words.

  “When? Let me see it.”

  “I deleted—”

  “Angel, I told you not to delete them! How the hell am I supposed to catch this bastard?” He jumped to his feet.

  “I know, Marc. I forgot.”

  “Jesus! You cannot forget. You hear me?” He stalked around the room, “What did he say?”

  “I don’t remember exactly, but he knew the color of my dress after I’d changed.”

  “Fucking dumbass security detail,” he muttered. “I knew I should’ve gone myself and taken care of this.”

  “Marc, you can’t be leaving work whenever I need to travel, and I’ll be doing that a lot more. Fashion Week all over the world starts in September, just a few months away. I’ll pay you to come on staff and take care of this security stuff for me.”

  Kneeling in front of her, he clasped her hands in his bigger ones. “I don’t want to, but, if this continues, I will. And I’ll figure out how to pay my bills without you doing it for me.”

  Nodding, she avoided his worried gaze.

  “Angel, you need to take Mom’s advice and find a guy who’s willing to protect you.”

  “I have one, if he’ll quit being so damn stubborn. I’m not paying your bills; I’m giving you a job. Believe me, you’ll earn every cent you make.”

  “Traveling all over the world means I have to leave everyone behind. When I got back from Iraq, I swore I’d never be separated from the people I love again. I can’t see you and Mom enough with my current job.” He exhaled and squeezed her hands. “You need to find a man. Not a guy. A man. Someone who’ll invest in you, who’ll sacrifice for you, and protect you.”

  “What guy would put up with my life?”

  “There’s one out there, but you’ll have to meet him halfway. Will you put up with someone who’s going to do what’s best for you whether you like it or not?”

  When Marc left a couple of hours later, the situation remained unresolved. The house felt empty and cold. Angel checked and rechecked every lock and window to ensure her safety. Checking her phone, she exhaled in relief when there were only messages from her closest friends. Then it suddenly occurred to her, her stalker might be able to locate her with her phone. She dismantled it and tossed the pieces on the breakfast bar. Recalling a card her mother had given her, she’d follow her brother’s advice to see if there could really be a man out there who could handle the life of a supermodel and busy entrepreneur.

  1Night Stand? What kind of name is that for a website?

  ***

  As requested, your match will be waiting for you at Victoria’s Black Swan Inn on Friday at 8:00 p.m.

  ~Madame Eve

  “Holy shit! It worked,” Mike Brannan murmured to himself.

  Staring at the text for longer than he’d intended, he didn’t hear someone walk up behind him but did feel the light slap to the back of his head.

  “I pay you to draw, not fucking tweet. Did you finish drawing that room?” Aaron asked.

  “Jesus, man! I could file a complaint on you for unwanted contact,” Mike said, putting away his phone.

  “I didn’t grab your dick. I got your attention. I know I didn’t do any damage.”

  “How the hell do you know? I feel a headache coming on. I think you gave me a concussion. I might have brain damage.” Mike grabbed the bridge of his nose.

  Aaron laughed. “You’ve got to have a brain to damage, gingerbread man.”

  Mike grinned and clicked the printer icon on his CAD program toolbar. “It’s all done, boss. Can I have Friday off?”

  “For what?”

  “I have a date,” Mike said.

  “So? That’s your every Friday night. What’s special about this one?”

  Turning his attention away from Aaron to his computer screen, he swallowed hard. “I used it.”

  Aaron went quiet for a moment, making Mike sneak a peek to see if he still stood there. Aaron stared at him with a blank expression. “Huh?”

  “You know…the gift certificate.”

  Then his boss’s expression lit up with understanding when he caught Mike’s coded message. “Oh! You used it.”

  Mike nodded. At Aaron’s bachelor party, his bosses had teased him about all of his babes. Maybe the liquor or the sentimentality of seeing both of his heroes married off and happy had made him confess he wanted what they had
—a woman who could be his perfect mate. He’d seen how they’d changed once they settled down. The change had been very apparent with Aaron. The woman Aaron married surprised everyone; both had such strong personalities. Mike had almost started a betting pool on how long his boss’s marriage to such a woman would last, and he’d given it two months.

  His boss’s marriage to the firm’s business manager had not only lasted, but their union had made them and the business stronger. The biggest change had been Aaron’s moods. When the man worked, he seemed to be made of stone. He’d come to life and let go of his hard business demeanor when his wife Natasha came around. He wasn’t as broody and serious all the time; he laughed more. Anyone with eyes could see his relationship had settled him, made him happy, and given him a sense of peace.

  After most of the guests left the reception the next day, while Tom, Aaron, and Mike were shooting the shit, Aaron handed Mike an envelope with a card inside. The men explained they’d both used 1Night Stand to find the women with whom they’d discovered their happily ever afters. Mike couldn’t believe it. They explained how it worked, and he’d laughed at them. However, during the conversation, Tom had given him an eerier warning: be careful what you wish for.

  When he got home, he’d logged on to the website then walked away before getting past the home page, thinking how stupid this seemed. He didn’t need a blind date. Women lined up for him. Any one of them would be happy if he slipped a ring on her finger. Living his own version of The Bachelor, he didn’t need help from a lonely-hearts website. As he lay in bed, Tom’s words haunted him and made him think long and hard about what he wanted his future with a woman to look like. He realized he’d never be happy and accepted how lost he’d been since his high school prom night. The gift would be another useless engraved card.

  There had only ever been one woman for him—Angel.

  He recalled grimly how he’d caved to teenage peer pressure and had so thoroughly fucked her over even going near her would be out of the question. He’d left her waiting for him on prom night. All his buddies had dared him to ask her out then teased him mercilessly about it until he’d left her hanging. He knew then how wrong he’d done her. While he yukked it up with his jock buddies, his heart broke because he liked this girl and had since he’d laid eyes on her in freshman English. The month leading up to graduation went by in a blur, but he’d never forgotten her—ever.

  The passage of time since then proved karma was a bitch when the fat girl transformed into a supermodel. Secretly, he followed her on Twitter, and whenever she posted a new photo shoot on her Facebook page, he’d stare, breathless, his dick as hard as a railroad spike. Her luscious curves had matured and left him aching to touch her. Countless fantasies of running his hands over her and burying himself balls-deep inside the voluptuous beauty drove him to stroke his cock raw. A deep sense of loss at missing out on so much in her life haunted him. A few months ago, she’d been honored for her work in fashion and the way it had inspired designers to create clothing lines catering to beautifully curvy women.

  In March, The Wall Street Journal featured her on the front page. The supermodel had bloomed into a designer icon by creating a new line of clothing that had some of the top retailers in the world falling all over themselves to snatch it up. He’d taken the paper to his office and stared at it for hours. All the regret he harbored hit him like a brick wall. He’d never get the chance to explain to her how much he regretted the humiliation she’d suffered because of him. The article had been the shove he’d needed to fill out his 1Night Stand profile. Life had left him behind, and he wouldn’t spend the rest of his waiting to apologize for being an arrogant teenage asshole. His Angel had moved past him and everyone else who’d laughed at his prank as she traveled all over the world.

  It had been almost a month since he’d filled out his profile and described his perfect woman.

  “What?” He glanced at his boss.

  “Where are you meeting?”

  “Black Swan Inn.”

  “The bed and breakfast? Are you serious? Are you that sure of yourself?”

  Mike shrugged. “I know how to get what I want, but that’s not why I asked to meet her there.”

  “Then what’s the point?”

  Mike grinned mischievously. “It’s haunted.”