White Hot Holidays 25: Miss Behavior Read online

  MISS BEHAVIOR

  BY

  ANN WESLEY HARDIN

  Miss Behavior

  Ann Wesley Hardin

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  ISBN # 1-4199-0449-3

  Edited by: Briana St. James

  Cover design by Syneca.

  Photography by Dennis Roliff

  Electronic book Publication: December 2005

  Miss Behavior Copyright© 2005 Ann Wesley Hardin

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Warning:

  The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. Miss Behavior has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

  S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

  E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.

  X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

  Trademarks Acknowledgements

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Movado: Movado Watch Corporation

  BlackBerry: Research In Motion Limited

  Manolo Blahnik: Blahnik , Manolo

  Victoria’s Secret: V Secret Catalogue, Inc.

  Sears: Sears Brands

  Mooney: Aerostar Aircraft Corporation Of Texas

  Plexiglas: Rohm And Haas Company

  Popsicle: Lipton Investments, Inc.

  Dedication

  For Robbie

  Chapter 1

  Lorna Merryfield’s jaw slackened as the tiny maroon and white airplane buzzed down to Earth and taxied jauntily over to the empty terminal where she sat, at Morey Field. She’d been there twenty minutes and no other planes had come in. But surely this wasn’t her flight.

  She glanced at her Movado watch then back at the miniscule aircraft.

  Frowning, she pulled the itinerary her assistant had arranged out of her nubby ostrich briefcase and checked the name of the flight service against the logo emblazoned on the fuselage. Sure enough. AirGage.

  Good Lord, did Gertie really expect her to fly in that thing? She’d seen larger mosquitoes.

  The mousy girl had mentioned transportation options into and out of Flintlock, Wisconsin were limited. But this was ridiculous. Lorna dug into her purse for her BlackBerry and mentally ticked off her appointments for the next four days.

  She was due to meet with John Preston and his family tomorrow morning, New Year’s Eve. Her parents would fly in tomorrow night and if all went well, she and John would not only announce a planned merger guaranteed to launch their combined businesses into the stratosphere, they’d get some start-up money, too.

  As a nationally recognized Image Consultant whom she’d met and lectured with on numerous occasions, John was debonair without being oily. The perfect gentleman and therefore the perfect partner to help spread her etiquette message to corporations across the country— Better Money through Better Manners.

  With his expert grip on manipulation through appearances, John had choreographed their small fund-raiser against the backdrop of winter wonderlands and new beginnings. His parents were respected entrepreneurs in Flintlock. Though their business was modest, John anticipated charming the Merryfields with his meteoric rise from such humble roots.

  Worry tightened into a thick rubber band around Lorna’s middle. Her mother and father weren’t an easy sell, were more the glitzy country club types. But John had argued stubbornly for a cozy family dinner followed by fireworks al fresco. As the clock struck twelve, they’d make their pitch. Against her better judgment, she’d agreed.

  Still, there was no way in hell she was getting on that toy plane.

  Gertie had to find another way and find it quick. One Manolo clicked a tattoo on the freshly waxed tile floor. A door squeaked open, the room darkened and she sensed an electric wave of heat to her left. The fine hairs at her nape stood up.

  “Ms. Merryfield?” a deep voice asked. Ignoring the call to attention her body was hearing, Lorna held up a finger and turned away. The delicate bling of a low battery vibrated into her ear. “Great,” she muttered and threw the phone back into her purse. Rounding on a thin heel, she came nose to chin with the electrical disturbance and vacuumed in a shocked breath.

  “I’m Gage Archer. You must be my lucky passenger.”

  A scent of leather and something magnetically atmospheric flew into her nostrils and collided with the pleasure sensors in her brain. The distant memory of once-important desire awakened and howled through her body.

  Odd. She hadn’t felt that way since high school, when that cool boy she’d liked had knocked on her door. What was his name? Never mind. Her mother had put the kibosh on it quickly enough, sat Lorna down for a heart-to-heart. And the next day the boy ignored her in the hallway.

  Boys had pretty much ignored her ever since. Fine with her. She had work to do.

  Lorna clawed through the moist fog collecting at the base of her psyche and hung out her sanity to dry.

  Tipping her head back, she tucked a strand of wayward hair into her ponytail, where it belonged, and glanced at her pilot-to-be. “Not if I can help it,” she began, meeting dark brown eyes. “I don’t fly in wind-up toys…” The statement ended in a hiccough and her hands started shaking. She tottered backwards but couldn’t escape the velvet touch of his eyes.

  The side of his mouth twitched and a gleam backlit his lingering gaze. “But I bought a new rubber band just for you.”

  A strange ripple, not unlike a giggle, erupted from her stomach and she covered it with a cough. Gage was…cute. No. Hot. Okay cute and hot. But giggling with a cute-n-hot flyboy was not on her agenda for the day. “I’m serious. I can’t get into that thing.” With you. “Can you help me find alternate transportation? I’d still pay you, of course.”

  “How much time you got?” He crossed his arms over a broad expanse of chest and once again the orgasmic scent of leather hit her nose. Why did he have to smell so good? And look so fine. The crown of sleek, dark hair on his head reminded her of mink.

  This wasn’t going to be easy. “None.”

  A smile eased across firm, masculine lips. “Then I’m your man. Fastest ride in five counties.” He rocked back on his heels and a squirt of liquid fire dribbled into her panties.

  Holy mother. That tickled. “I can’t ride you. I mean, ride with you.” Oh. My. God. Her face had to be as red as a mandrill’s ass.

  Gage watched her with amusement before shooting a glance over to the reception desk. A young ma
n in a sweatshirt and baseball cap leaned over the counter, his eyes also filled with hilarity.

  Lorna’s teeth ached.

  “Tell Ms. Merryfield how safe AirGage is, Tod.”

  “AirGage is safe.”

  “When was my last crash?”

  “AirGage never crashed.”

  “How long has AirGage been in business?”

  “AirGage—”

  “You can stop now,” Lorna hollered. But strangely enough, she felt better. Of course his dinky airline was safe. He flew in it, didn’t he? She peered beyond Gage at the shiny airplane.

  Outside in the snow, mechanics were swarming. The engine was being refueled, tire pressure checked. Someone eyeballed the prop.

  Gage took her arm and through the two-ply cashmere sleeve of her sweater she felt the heat from his hand.

  “Come on,” he coaxed. “I’ll show you how to do a pre-flight.”

  He made it sound like a prelude to sex.

  Their eyes met and held and she saw he’d stopped laughing at her. “S’okay.” She shrugged. “I really don’t have any choice. I knew that from the start. Guess I just freaked for a minute.”

  “It happens.”

  Lorna drew a deep breath. She could do this. Despite messing with her, Gage had an air of responsibility. He wore plain but clean clothes. He was shaved and showered. And tall and leanly muscled with narrow hips honed for pumping. He smelled really, truly awesome…

  Stop it.

  Okay so the deep, probing eyes might cloak a devilish interior, but she didn’t think he ran a shoddy operation.

  She followed him out to the plane and squeezed into the backseat. Gage taxied to the end of the runway and eased the throttle.

  The single engine sucked them down the strip in a gasp. Lorna white-knuckled the leather armrest and peered down to make sure of her seat belt. Touring the country to promote her newspaper column, she’d grown accustomed to the stability of jumbo jets. This gumball machine trinket buffeted through the air, every wobble a grisly reminder only a thin sheet of metal lay between her and runway pizza.

  As they were jolted to altitude, she gulped air by the mouthful. The plane bucked and her butt lifted off the seat. Gage’s head bumped the ceiling. He seemed to take it in stride, though. As if getting brained was a regular occurrence.

  “Is this normal?” she shouted.

  “Is what normal?” Great.

  For the next thirty minutes they played dodgeball with air currents. Lorna pulled out her business plan and studied it with one eye. The other she kept trained on Gage for signs of impending doom.

  At least that’s what she told herself.

  Rarely had she come across such a perfect specimen of male beauty. And to have it in the form of a pilot, for God’s sake. Why couldn’t hot guys go into Image Consulting? If John looked like Gage, she’d be all over him. So it was a good thing, really. She supposed. Otherwise she’d never be able to concentrate on her work.

  Like now?

  She smiled to herself, flicked her ponytail and licked her lips. A girl could fantasize, couldn’t she? No harm done. There’d been a time when she’d yearned for sexual passion. Before practical reality intruded and she’d realized she’d never make it if she didn’t focus on her studies and her job.

  Still, once in a while she wondered what it would be like to lose herself in a totally impractical man. Like Gage Archer. The thought caused her clit to plump for the umpteenth time since she’d seen him. And for the umpteenth time, she reminded herself she was here on business. Gage’s only role in her life was to deliver her safely.

  Right now, her safety margin was dieting. The creepy plane quivered a lot, wings shimmying like Vegas showgirls.

  They shot through a scattering of burly clouds and blasted out into bright sunshine. Lorna had just reconciled her skeleton to a clattering tube of pick-up sticks when the ride got strangely calm.

  Popping out her earplugs, she unclipped the seat belt and leaned forward to tap Gage’s shoulder. “Why did it get so quiet?”

  He turned and flashed a Hollywood grin. Lorna was momentarily blinded by the glint of pure sex appeal off his silvered aviators. “The engine quit. Don’t worry. We’ll get her started again.”

  But he told me this wouldn’t happen—

  He glanced at the control panel. “Shit.”

  He promised…

  “Buckle up.” He flipped a couple of switches.

  Lorna forgot to obey as a sour burp of betrayal singed her throat. Gage issued a volley of curses. Dread cozied up with her heart. “What’s happening?”

  “We’re going down.”

  “Back to the airport?”

  “Too far. But we’re in luck. There’s a big field ahead.”

  The plane gave a revolting lurch. Lorna’s innards posted to the ceiling. She reached out to grab at something but her frantic hands had no place to go. So she laced them together tightly. In supplication, they came to her lips.

  “Away we go!” Gage banked a hard left.

  The snowbound earth rose fast. Lorna tried not to freak out and scream as they corkscrewed lower and lower.

  “Never thought the engine would quit,” Gage said. “Just had it rebuilt, too. Gonna give those folks a talking-to when I get home.”

  Was that her life flashing before her eyes? Years of studying quietly while her socialite mother hovered nearby.

  No sex with boys.

  Her physician father quizzing her for a test.

  Still no sex with boys.

  The time her brother had shucked her parents’ wishes and joined the military. And Lorna, left behind, picking up the pieces and girding herself for her future as the new Emily Post.

  Her mother’s fondest wish.

  Okay. Some diluted sex.

  Then came John and their plans for the future. An empire of manners, politeness and teaching people what their parents should’ve taught them in the first place—how to behave to succeed…

  Now she just needed to survive. To succeed at getting laid, goddammit!

  The ground heaved toward them. Had Gage ever landed on snow? The surface was infested with moguls. What if a wing caught one and flung them into a cartwheel?

  “I’m starting the flare,” Gage said.

  Was he asking permission? “Roger,” she squeaked just in case.

  “That’ll reduce airspeed and make things better than horrible.”

  Suddenly the nose of the airplane lifted. Lorna sensed an immediate and dramatic slowing.

  “Once we belly in, anything could happen. Take care of yourself, sweetheart.”

  Oh sweet Jesus. “You too,” she choked.

  The Mooney touched down softly. At first. All hell broke loose when it slipped into a skid, spewing powder like a snow blower. Hitting an ice patch, it spun loop-the-loop.

  Gage reached back and grabbed Lorna’s knee. His hand slid down her calf and she clutched his arm. Hot damn, he was muscular.

  The Mooney chased its tail across the field and gained momentum. Lorna dropped her head into her lap, praying to the puke gods to spare her this one last indignity.

  Bad enough she’d be covered in blood and God knew what other bodily fluids in the morgue. But she had to draw the line at vomit.

  When she felt brave enough to peek she regretted it. A Norway spruce loomed dead ahead.

  “Holy sh…” she glued herself to the back of Gage’s seat, burying her face in his shoulder to shield it from impact. For a moment, the warmth of his cheek lay against hers and she had the same all-consuming regret that’d become her death mantra—she’d never experienced a hard, screaming fuck.

  Before now.

  “Happy New Year!” Gage shouted.

  The Mooney ground to a halt, whipping her around the seat, half onto his lap and plastering their bodies together with some big-ass Gs.

  They clung to each other while the plane rocked gently. Scents of adrenaline and terror mingled with an explosion of pheromones in the panic-w
armed confines of the tiny cockpit. Gage’s capable hands on her ass kept Lorna from sliding off his leg and into the small crack between the seats. Was it her imagination, or was he squeezing harder than necessary? She tried squirming out of the awkward straddle and the thick hardness of his thigh molded into the crevice between her legs.

  It felt like it belonged there. Should she keep squirming?

  Why did she keep thinking these things?

  Okay. God. Breathe.

  “Damn,” Gage finally sighed. “That was touch-and-go.” One hand slid up her flank to cup the back of her head. “You okay?”

  Touch me and go, go, go. With an erotic shiver, Lorna lifted her face and looked at him. “Yes,” she murmured. “I think so, at least.” The feel of a man’s hands on her after so long…

  He pushed aside a strand of her hair and she had to resist an urge to turn into his palm and lick it.

  “Should’ve stayed in your seat,” he said. “You’d have flown out the windshield if we’d hit that tree.”

  “I know.”

  He blew out a tense breath, its warmth and uniquely pleasant scent fanning her face and causing a whirling sensation in the pit of her stomach.

  “I caught you.”

  “Yes.” In more ways than one.

  She ran into trouble dragging her eyes away from his. Some emotion she didn’t recognize unfurled in her heart, caught an unfamiliar wind and began to flap wildly.

  “It turned out all right,” he said.

  “Thanks to you. How’d you do that?” Gage was…incredible. Majestic. A hero.

  He sent her a wicked grin. Bubbles of awareness popped in her pelvis. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

  In your pants too, I bet. “But—”

  “Feather the prop, reduce airspeed and hope for the best. Easy.”

  “For you!” Lorna smiled back in wonder. My hero.

  His dark eyes searched hers as he reached around her to fiddle with some knobs on the instrument panel. She wondered what other knobs he might be interested in fiddling with and clamped her jaw to keep from asking.

  What in God’s green earth had gotten into her? Her pussy was watering at the thought of fucking him. But she didn’t know him from boo!