Rachel looked at him blankly for a long time. "Oh," she said.

"If you're not comfortable with it," Mason said. "I understand." The corner of his mouth curled up in a grin. Maybe he just got her to change her mind, after all.

A bright smile spread on her face. "Oh Mason, that's even better!"

"I beg your pardon?"

She clasped her hands together. "I've always wanted to do a threesome."

He felt his throat go dry. "You have?"

"Absolutely." She leaned forward, giving him another good look at her cleavage. "Is she beautiful?" she said, her voice dropping down to a whisper.

"Who?"

"The girl, of course. The one who will be joining us in bed."

"Right. Yes." He took a long drink of water. Wasn't it twenty minutes yet? Where the hell was Jake and that code red?

"Will you be watching me and your friend make out, Mason?"

He almost choked on his water.

"Are you okay?" Rachel said, her eyes wide with concern.

"Fine." He pressed his napkin on his mouth as he tried to clear his throat. He raised his other hand to call their waiter.

"Another martini," he told the server. "What is it?" he asked, seeing the apologetic look in the man's eyes.

"I'm terribly sorry to bother you," said the server to both of them. "It's your assistant on the phone, Mr. Kilborne. He says he needs to talk to you. It's very urgent."

Ah finally!

"Thank you." He stood up. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I must take this call."

"Hurry back, babe."

When he got to the reception desk, Mason was handed a wireless phone.

"What the hell took you so long?" he said.

"Sorry, sir," Jake said. "You did say twenty minutes."

"Did you make the arrangements with the hotel?"

"Yes, sir. You have a reservation at the presidential suite. As I understand, they're moving the current guests to another suite as we speak, but the hotel assured me it won't take very long."

"Good. Pack me an overnight suitcase and be sure bring it here by nine. Have the hotel staff bring it directly to my room." Mason paused, thinking. "One more thing."

"Sir?"

"I'll need some cash." How much did escorts charge, exactly? He hadn't the slightest idea. "Uhm, ten grand. Take it from the safe downstairs, pack it in the suitcase."

"Got it. Anything else, sir?"

"Jake, how much do... Never mind," he added hastily. On second thought, he probably shouldn't ask his assistant how much to pay an escort. "That's all."

He hung up and returned the phone to reception.

When he got back to Rachel, she was sitting with her chin resting on one hand. "I was beginning to get lonely," she said.

He walked over to her side of the table and leaned down to speak to her, one hand on the back of her chair. "Rachel, my apologies," he said. "But something's come up at work. I have to go."

"What?" Her face fell.

"I'm sorry." He covered her hand with his. "Please finish your meal. Order anything you want."

She grasped his hand. "Call me?"

"Of course, I —"

She kissed him. Hard. Her hand moved up to the back of his neck and pulled him closer as her tongue pushed persistently into his mouth.

He could taste oranges and wine on her lips. She was sweet and flagrant, and breathless with desire.

"Mmmm... right," he gasped as he pulled away as gently and respectfully as he could. "I, uh, had a lovely evening. I will call you."

"Promise?" Rachel pouted. "You're not gonna break my heart, are you?"

Mason smiled and patted her hand. He felt another twinge of guilt, but he managed to extricate himself from her arms and walk out of the restaurant.

He couldn't help throw a glance at Ines when he passed her table.

She looked up from her meal and gave him a little smile.

.

.

"Friend of yours?" John said, seeing Ines smile at Kilborne.

Ines shook her head. "Not really," she said. "He works in film."

"Actor? I'm sorry, I didn't get to see his face."

"He's a producer." Not that Kilborne didn't have the looks to be in front of the camera. Or the body. He was in terrific shape. And tall. It was almost as if he was too perfect—

"Ines?"

"Huh?" She covered her mouth with her fingers. "I'm so sorry, John, I was..." She shook her head. "Never mind. You were saying?"

"I was just wondering if you ever dreamed of being an actress yourself."

She laughed. "Oh God no."

***

Mason sat on the sofa, remote control in hand as he clicked through all the channels on the television. Shite, all of them. A thousand channels and not a single thing he could stand to watch.

Where the bloody hell was the girl? It was fifteen past nine, and Ines still hadn't shown up. He'd been waiting in his suite for the past forty-five minutes.

With a sigh of frustration, he paused his channel surfing on the BBC news channel. He picked up the wireless phone on the table beside the sofa and dialled reception.

"Good evening, Mr. Kilborne," said a velvety female voice. "I'm Imani Smith from guest relations. How may we be of service?"

"Yes. I'm expecting a guest tonight."

"Yes, sir. You've given us her name. And a description. She hasn't come by the reception desk yet."

"Well, just ..." He paused. "Just send her up directly."

"Certainly, sir."

***

"Can I give you a ride?" John said as they walked through the hotel lobby.

"Thank you, I brought a car," Ines said. She decided it was best not to tell him about her meeting Kilborne tonight. That is, if he would still agree to see her. It was a little after nine p.m., and she still had to get her manuscript out of the trunk of her car.

"Well, it's been a pleasure seeing you again, Ines. Please give my best to Piper."

"Of course. I'll be in touch with your assistant. I'm sure Piper will want to set another date for dinner." Ines wasn't sure why, considering how callously her boss had stood him up tonight, but she had the feeling Piper thought meeting him was important.

"That will be fine. Good night."

"Good night." Ines waved at him as he got into a white Lincoln town car that had pulled up in front of the hotel entrance.

She gave the valet her ticket, and asked him to bring her car up so she could get something out of the trunk.

Ten minutes later, she walked up to the front desk, a small slim case containing her manuscript in hand.

"I'm here to see Mr. Kilborne," she said to the petite woman in a dark suit. "I'm a little late but ..."

The woman smiled. "And you are?"

"Ines Andrada. I was supposed to see him at nine, so I'll understand if he's busy —"

"Not at all, Ms. Andrada. He's been expecting you." She raised her hand slightly to call someone. "The floor requires a key card to access it, so Toby here will assist you."

The bellhop accompanied her to the elevator, and held up the card to a scanner before punching in the floor number.

"Have a good evening, miss," Toby said.

"Thanks." She clutched her case and purse nervously to her chest as the doors slid closed.

She wasn't too late, thank goodness. There was still a chance this could turn out well, if she could show him she was professional and dedicated to her craft. And if he liked her script. She'd submitted it to three different film festivals last year, but it had never even made it to the final rounds. This could be her only shot.

It didn't take her long to find the room. She checked her hair one last time, then pressed the doorbell.

She waited about half a minute. Nothing. Panic rose in her chest. Was he asleep? Busy? She shouldn't have been late, damn it. Only she didn't know how to tell John she had to cut their dinner short because she was meeting someone at nine o'clock.

Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand to the doorbell button. Just one more try, and if he didn't come to the door, she'd leave.

There was a muted click and the door opened.

Kilborne stood holding the door open. He didn't return her smile.

She swallowed hard. "Mr. Kilborne," she said. "I'm so sorry I'm late."

His hair seemed a little ruffled, like he'd run his hands through it a couple of times. He was still painfully handsome up close. When he looked her over, a thrill shoot up her spine.

Calm down, she reminded herself. Breathe.

"Come in, Ms. Andrada," he said. He took one step back, pulling the door open wider.

"Thank you."

She walked in a few steps, looking around the suite. High vaulted ceilings featured a large chandelier. It illuminated the wide living room, with its plush cream sofa and chairs and the lilac-colored carpet with gold print.

It was incredible how rich people lived. Did Kilborne book this room just for a date? The woman must have been pretty special.

"I appreciate you agreeing to see me tonight, Mr. Kilborne." Ines turned around to face him. "I hope I didn't intrude on your date—"

She stopped when she found herself pressed against his hard chest. His hands fell on her hips, his touch sending a blaze of heat through her body.

He kissed her.

All strength left her limbs as his lips ravaged her mouth with a hunger that took her by surprise. Her purse and manuscript dropped from her hands. She opened up like a flower under the heat of his kiss, and only a moan of surrender arose from her throat when his tongue thrust down to find hers.

She whimpered when her eyeglasses pressed sharply against her face. He pulled away too quickly at the sound, his hands releasing her.

"I'm sorry," he said, his breathing uneven and shallow. His eyes were dark, almost angry. "I ..." He ran a hand through his hair. "Could I offer you a drink?"

Ines blinked up at him. Was this the reason he asked her to his room? She was not unfamiliar with the practice of powerful men demanding sexual favors in exchange for career opportunities. She just didn't expect ...

She didn't expect him.

The way his gaze would set her body on fire. Or how she melted under the touch of his fingers, all her mental faculties numb when he kissed her. How she could yield so easily when he pulled her body close to his.

She knew she couldn't do this. She couldn't sell herself for this. Not for anything.

"Ines?"

At the sound of her name on his lips, she felt raw molten heat drip down to gather low in her belly. Wordlessly, she reached up and yanked her eyeglasses off her face. She let them drop by her side.

Trembling, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Kilborne responded with a low growl as he took her mouth, his tongue seeking hers with a roughness that made her quiver between her thighs. He grasped her bottom, and his fingers raked at her dress. The hem of her skirt lifted until her backside was bared to his hands.

He squeezed, and her legs parted instinctively. Reaching lower, he pushed two fingers inside her thong. She moaned when he found her clit, and felt a gush of her arousal where he touched her. A sob escaped her throat as his fingers rubbed her sensitive bud with expert strokes.

His mouth moved down her throat, his tongue leaving a hot, damp trail on her skin.

"Yes," she gasped. "Oh God yes."

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