Royal Recruit - Susan Grant Page 0,34
And we have cars for your friends’ use, as well.”
“Yo, Prince. Don’t argue,” Gilligan said. “Get your ass in the seat. I’ll drive.”
Chuckling, Jared slid into the passenger seat and closed the door. Immediately, he smelled perfume and realized the driver hadn’t gotten out. And recognized her as a drop-dead gorgeous supermodel who modeled lingerie.
“Hello,” she crooned huskily in a Brazilian accent. Her manicured hands caressed the steering wheel. “Where to?”
“You’re coming?”
“Not yet.” She took his hand and slid it under her short, tight dress, past the ridge of her thigh-high stockings, and over the silky, scorching-hot flesh between her legs. She wasn’t wearing underwear. “But I can as soon as you want.” She moved his hand over her crotch. She was hot, wet and very ready. All that kept his fingers from slipping inside her was his shock and his inconvenient sense of propriety.
Fortunately, he hadn’t lost his sense of opportunity. She moved over to kiss him on the mouth and he didn’t stop her. He slipped his hand into her long, supermodel hair. It was as silky as it looked. He gave her the kind of kiss you gave a girl you didn’t know after you’d just made the decision you were going to have sex with her. He got a hard-on immediately. He wanted to pull her uninhibited, no-underwear little self onto his lap and fuck her right here in the just-off-the-showroom-floor Ferrari. No-holds-barred, no-commitment, animal sex.
Except that people were milling all around the car, and Gilligan was standing outside the driver’s door, looking royally pissed.
Not to mention that you’re married now.
An image of Keira’s face flooded his mind: those huge, sad eyes and that little mouth that made her look all at once furious and lost.
She’s a diva, he argued with himself. She tricked me. This is all her fault.
She’s your wife.
Sighing through his nose, Jared broke off the kiss. “Want to join your friends?” the model asked. “Or, we can go right to the room.”
“What room?”
“A private donor bought me, the car and the room.” She circled her finger over his thigh. But he felt the touch right between his legs. “Top floor, best hotel in town.”
“That’s very generous. But whose tab is this going on?”
She seemed hesitant to say. “He didn’t want thanks. He wanted to do it because of what you’re doing for us. For all of us.”
Jared got that uncomfortable feeling again, seeing the familiar gratitude in the supermodel’s eyes. He didn’t want accolades for something he didn’t want to do. And he didn’t want charity sex, either, no matter how good of a screw it’d be. “I don’t want to thank him. I want to ask him a question.”
“Sure.” She lifted a phone out of a holder between the seats. There, he saw a key card for the Apex, an ultra-exclusive hotel funded by some movie stars. Saying it was the best place in town was an understatement. Why not go? His subconscious begged the question. A horny supermodel, all-night sex, the best penthouse in town, top-notch liquor and food, the whole banana without any obligation.
You’re married. Yep. For whatever kind of sham it was, the fact remained. He was legally bound to this other woman, and it felt wrong cheating on her.
This just gives me one more reason to dislike you, little Miss Sunbeam.
“Dial six,” the model said, pointing to the phone in his hand.
A familiar celebrity’s voice answered.
“Hey. It’s Jared Jasper.”
Silence, then the man asked, “Everything okay? Is there anything else you need? If Elsa doesn’t do it for you, I can find you someone else. Or something else—”
“Elsa is awesome. The car is amazing. But…”
“What? Anything? Name it, and it’s yours.”
“Snowboards and snow. A mountain cabin and a fridge filled with beer.” Jared waved at his confused-looking squadron-mates through the tinted glass. He’d known them for years, flown in combat with them, held their new babies, took them out drinking after the breakups and divorces, just as they’d done for him. When you distilled life down to what really mattered, a mindless fuck didn’t top the list. Not his list, anyway. “The bachelor party was great. All of you who did stuff for me are great. But what I’d like is a real bachelor party. A weekend with the guys—my good buddies—some killer snow, food and drink.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s all.”
The man thought on that for a moment. “You’re not going to find good snow this time of year. Not in the northern hemisphere. But I know a place in