against him, he was burning up. When her ass, perfectly cupped in those tight jeans, had bumped against his chest, it had taken all of his willpower to keep from pulling her down onto his lap for a more enjoyable plane ride for both of them.
He shifted his jacket over his erection and put his seat-back tray down, as well. Anything to hide his embarrassing state of arousal. This was a job. She was a client. It wasn’t her fault that he hadn’t gotten laid in fourteen months. Fourteen long, celibate, lonely months. He’d been pumped to get home from Afghanistan despite the arm, because he didn’t need two functioning arms to take his girlfriend to bed. All those months he’d been fantasizing and waiting for the moment when he could nail Danielle again, and he’d gotten home with his cast off and his libido primed. But instead of a weekend sex fest, he’d gotten dumped.
“I brought a pair of trunks, sure. I have to blend in and look as though I belong on the beach.” He was going to be sitting in a beach chair watching Melanie in her bathing suit. He was praying for a bikini. It just had to be a bikini.
“Good point.” She smiled at him. “Is applying sunscreen part of your official duties? I can never reach that spot right here.” Twisting, she tried to reach between her shoulder blades. “Here.” She twisted again, her chest pushing out toward him, breasts taunting him. Laughing, she added, “See? It’s a problem. I don’t want to burn.”
It was then and there that Hunter decided that this was bullshit. Ian Bainbridge had only hired him for one week, and hadn’t even paid him yet. He didn’t owe the guy total professionalism, not when Ian hadn’t been completely up front with him about the situation. Fourteen months was too long to go without sex, and Melanie was probably equally disappointed at the prospect of a celibate vacation. There was no way he could be expected to spend a whole week alone with her and not die of sexual frustration.
That left him two choices: he could settle her into the resort then turn around and go home, or he could convince her that what they both needed was a no-strings-attached week of sex and sunshine.
The first choice seemed unethical, since Ian believed there was a possibility Melanie was in danger. Hunter wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to her, no matter how remote the possibility. The second option was maybe just a little sketchy and inappropriate, but they were both adults and he wasn’t going to twist her arm too hard. Just...coax.
What would Melanie be like in bed? He had a feeling she would approach sex without guile, but with a certain amount of efficiency. She would want the right location and the right time, and she would have a checklist. Foreplay, oral sex, penetration, orgasm, done. Maybe he was wrong—he’d only known her an hour—but it was a gut feeling, a hunch. He had a sudden visual of her approaching his cock with a look of purpose.
It made him hard, and it made him want to show her that sex didn’t need an order or a plan. “I can be your cabana boy,” he told her. “I’ll rub anywhere you want.”
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Thanks. Um. So...tell me about yourself. Are you married? Children?”
He almost grinned, but held it back. “No and no.” Pride had him instinctively withholding the information about Danielle, but then he realized it could work to his advantage. “When I got home from my deployment, my girlfriend ended things.”
There it was. Her face softened and her hand came to rest on his knee. “Oh, I’m sorry. It must have been hard to make a long-distance relationship work.”
“Lots of people manage to,” he said truthfully. “So I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.” Though she could have told him that before he spent months anticipating a happy homecoming.
“You are very stoic, then.”
She didn’t ask it as a question. “No. I wouldn’t say that. I just go to the rifle range and shoot things to work it out.”
“That sounds healthy.” She made a face at him. “Maybe you need a creative outlet instead.”
“Maybe I need sex.” See what she did with that.
“Oh!” Her cheeks turned pink. “Well. True. There’s that.”
“Can I get you anything to drink?” the cheerful flight attendant asked, locking her cart into place next to Hunter.
It was perfect timing. Let Melanie ponder what he’d said for a while.
“I’ll take a coffee. Black. And a water.” He turned to Melanie. “What would you like?”
“Just a club soda,” she said. “With a lime. And vodka.”
Oh, really? “Somebody’s ready to party,” he said, amused.
“It is kind of early, isn’t it?” she said. “But hell, I’m from Kentucky. I know how to hold my liquor. I stand by my choice.”
“That’s eight dollars,” the flight attendant said discreetly. “Only credit cards.” She bent over and pulled out a tiny liquor bottle.
Hunter got out his wallet and handed her a credit card while Melanie was still wrestling her jumbo purse out from under the seat.
“You don’t have to do that,” she protested.
“Honey, if the man wants to buy you a drink, let him,” the flight attendant said, handing over both glasses. “You’ll never see him again, so there’s no expectation.”
“We’re going to Mexico together for a week,” Melanie told her.
The flight attendant made a sound and waved her hand. “Well, in that case, he should be buying all your drinks. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were a couple.” She turned to Hunter. “I thought you were a business traveler.”
“I’m her bodyguard,” he said, because he felt as if he needed to explain his suit. Plus it would drive Melanie crazy.
“Are you serious?” The woman eyed Melanie more carefully. “Are you famous?”
When Melanie started to shake her head no, Hunter touched her knee. “She’s not famous to the average person. But those who know who she is are such rabid fans she’s accumulated some stalkers. I’m here to protect her.”
“Oh. My.” The flight attendant unlocked her cart and started to push it. She asked Melanie in a low voice, “Can I ask what industry you’re in?”
Hunter didn’t expect Melanie to play along. He thought she would bluster and apologize and say it was really her boyfriend the famous photographer who had a stalker. But she stunned him by nodding solemnly and saying, “Sure. I’m an adult-film star. Maybe you’ve seen some of my work? Poke Her Haunches? Or maybe Romeo, Juliet and Juliet?”
The curious smile disappeared. “No, I haven’t.” The cart moved rapidly three feet down the aisle.
Coughing to cover his laugh, Hunter looked at Melanie in amusement. “I wasn’t aware of your history.”
“I don’t like to brag,” she said breezily.
“Home videos? Or can I download them online?” He knew she was joking, but without warning an image of Melanie in a corset and touching his sword ambushed his thoughts.
