The Virgin Sex Queen Read online

  Leaning on the bench, he contemplated her. “But it’s the really sexy stuff that made you a success.”

  She took a deep breath. “Success is getting a book published. Success is getting one bought by a reader. Success is having a reader like your book enough to let you know.”

  “Success,” he said quietly, “is being able to give up your job and write for a living.”

  “Success,” she returned, “is made from baby steps first. Success is measured by the personal goals you set. Not everyone who is a successful writer can give up their day job.”

  Studying her, Alan thought about her words. It kind of made sense. Sophie was watching him earnestly, her hands wrapped around the cup of Milo. A stray strand of hair had escaped her braid to tickle along her cheek.

  “You’re successful,” she said. “You chose a career and went with it.”

  “So what if I’d been a trolley boy?”

  “So what if you wanted to be a trolley boy, got a job doing it and was happy?” she countered. “You’d be a success in your chosen career.”

  “Huh.” He’d never thought of it that way.

  “Don’t you consider yourself a success?” she asked curiously.

  “Never thought of it like that.” He took a sip of Milo. “I just wanted to be a cop, applied, got in, trained, and here I am.”

  “There you go.” She smiled.

  “So, Soph, when did you complete your motivational speech course?”

  She stared blankly at him for a minute before reaching out and lightly slapping his hand. “You jerk!”

  He winked. “But I’m a successful one.”

  “So anyway.” She picked up the cup and blew cautiously on the hot surface. “How come you’re not married yet?”

  “No girl has been lucky enough to find me.”

  “Shouldn’t that be the other way around?”

  “No.”

  “I think it should.”

  “You’re misinformed.” Grabbing the biscuit barrel, Alan dug around inside it, withdrawing an Anzac biccie which he held out to Soph. When she shook her head, he dunked it into his own tea. “And you’re not married.”

  “No.”

  “None lucky enough to find you?”

  Her gaze dropped. “You could say that.”

  Something in her tone had him pausing, the dunked biscuit halfway to his mouth. Dropping his gaze to her hands, he watched the pink-tipped nails circle slowly around the rim of the cup before dragging down the sides to tap on the counter top.

  Sophie lifted her head and smiled at him. “What?”

  “What was that?” he asked bluntly.

  “What was what?”

  “That.” When she looked blankly at him, he added, “Did something happen?” When she just continued to look blank, he popped the tea-softened half of the biccie into his mouth, chewed and swallowed before pointing the remaining half at her. “You avoided the question.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  Sophie frowned.

  “‘You could say that’ isn’t an answer, it’s a fob-off.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Grabbing the biscuit barrel, she looked through the top. “Do you have any chocolate biscuits in here?”

  Bracing both hands on the bench, Alan leaned forward. Oh yeah, she knew what he was doing, it was evident in the way she stiffened slightly even as her hand entered the barrel to rummage around. If they were lucky, there’d be more than crumbs left by the time she finished unintentionally destroying the biscuits.

  Master of unnerving silence, Alan just waited her out. The chick couldn’t keep her hand in there forever or her gaze averted, not if she didn’t want him thinking he was correct.

  Sure enough, she finally withdrew her hand with an Anzac biscuit held delicately between fingertips. Now she busied herself dunking it into her tea several times before biting off the soaked piece and eating it. Only then did she lift her gaze to look at him.

  Damn if she hadn’t mastered the innocent expression, big eyes inquiring. If Alan didn’t know better he’d have thought she’d forgotten the conversation. However, he knew her better. The Sophie he remembered was smart, but if she thought she was smart enough to outmanoeuvre him, she had another think coming.

  “So what happened?” he asked.

  She blinked.

  “Don’t even try it.”

  “Try what?”

  “Am I going to have to get my baton and smack the answer out of you?”

  “Oh Alan, I didn’t know you were into that kind of thing.”

  “Oh Sophie, you’d be the first, but what the hell? I’m game if you are.” He was more than pleased by the faint pink that crept into her cheeks.

  But give the chick credit, her gaze didn’t flinch. “Why, Alan, do you mean spanking would be a new sexual concept for you?”

  He leaned just a little closer, deliberately studying her face leisurely.

  Sophie looked back at him calmly.

  Alan was just as calm. “I’m just gonna let that little remark bounce around in my head for awhile.”

  “It’ll have plenty of space.”

  “Then I should be able to absorb it quickly.” Reaching out, he placed one finger under her chin to tilt her head back slightly.

  Her expression one of amusement, Sophie stood her ground, her fingers playing with the half biscuit she still held.

  “Spanking,” he mused out loud. “Let me think.” His gaze slid down her nose. Small, perky at the end. “Hand to bottom, I’m thinking.”

  “Given up on the baton idea?”

  Seemed it would take more to shake this new, sophisticated Sophie.

  “Oh, I think hand to bare bottom is a lot hotter.” Alan stroked her cheek with his thumb as he dropped his gaze to her lips. Pretty, pouty and pink. A sudden thought popped into his head. Would her nether lips would be just as pretty and pouty? He knew they’d be pink, a duskier pink.

  That thought had his blood heating just a little.

  Dragging his thoughts back to the task at hand, that of unnerving Sophie from her amusement at his expense, he stroked his thumb along her bottom lip. “So, are we talking spanking standing up, or facedown on the bed, or-” he couldn’t help the sudden leap of something a little darker deep inside himself - “over my lap?”

  “Your lap?” Her breath was warm moistness against his thumb and he couldn’t help but press the tip lightly against that soft, pillowy lip. “Is this your fantasy?”

  “I rather thought we were talking about our fantasy.”

  “Our fantasy?”

  “Sure. You brought it up.”

  “I just asked if it was a new concept for you.”

  “And I said I’d think about it.”

  “So you’re thinking.” She glanced away briefly.

  “Yeah.” His voice dropped, becoming a little huskier at the images that popped into his apparently dirty mind. “I’m thinking spanking. You over my lap, my hand on your bare bum. I’m thinking…” Oh yeah, he was thinking a lot, he sure as hell was, and they were a whole lot hotter than he’d ever before contemplated.

  Her gaze flew back to his and whoa, those hazel eyes were darker and that was no fantasy. Nor was the fact that she was leaning forward into his hand, her lips parted slightly, her breasts rising and falling more rapidly beneath the flowered, prim dressing gown.

  Suddenly Alan wanted to unbutton that dressing gown. Yeah, he wanted to see a lot more of her soft skin, see just how much those pillowy boobs filled out her nightgown.

  Was she wearing a bra?

  “If you were naked, I’d know,” he said huskily.

  “What?” Her eyes widened.

  Suddenly realising what he’d said, Alan refocussed. “Naked. Over my lap.”

  But the moment was lost. The darkness of her eyes vanished as she jerked her head back. Clearing her throat, she made to dunk
the last of the biccie into the tea.

  Shame it was in crumbled bits on the counter.

  Unfazed, she suggested coolly, “Maybe you need lessons.”

  Cool. The chick was cool while he felt like a fire was ignited in his pants. Holy shit, when had that happened? When had a simple teasing become something more? If he moved away from the kitchen bench now, she’d see a boner to impress even a hardened erotic novelist.

  Actually, he did have an impressive boner, he couldn’t help but be pleased by that in the far reaches of his mind. He couldn’t help it, he was just being him.

  But damned if he was going to let her see that he was sporting an impressive boner, not when it looked like she was ready to eat cucumber sandwiches with the Queen, she was so calm and poised.

  Had it all been a put-on? Maybe she was playing him. Shit, she’d probably done the whole spanking scene and more. How much more? What else had she done?

  There was one thing that was now glaringly obvious. He had to get his hands on some of her books and see just what the Sex Queen had been up to.

  Every thought snapped through his brain within seconds. When she coolly sipped her tea - coolly! - and smiled at him - coolly, Goddamn it! - Alan managed to wink calmly back at her. “Thanks for the fantasy, Soph.”

  “Oh, my pleasure,” she said. “Making up fantasies is what I do for a living. Anyway, it’s been a long day.” Slipping off the high stool, she came around the kitchen counter and rinsed out the now empty cup in the sink.

  The impressive boner kept Alan pressed against the bench feigning a relaxed stance. Kind of hard to do, but he managed it. Hard being the word in more ways than one.

  As she moved, he turned his head to watch her. With her back to him, he was free to study her. The nightgown was summery, the sleeves short, but it came down past her knees. It hid her figure, but it couldn’t hide the sway of her hips nor the generous derrière that moved with every step she took. And the sexy kitten heels.

  That derrière would be soft. Very soft. Really soft beneath his hand. Alan silently drew in a deep breath.

  Seemingly unaware of his silence, Sophie dried the cup and put it away, flipping the tea towel nonchantly over the rail before passing him.

  Suddenly, unexpectedly, her hand connected firmly with his backside, the muffled thwack against his slacks loud in the silent kitchen. He jumped, shocked, only able to stare open-mouthed at her as she strode to the doorway, where she turned and gave him a saucy smile and wink before disappearing.

  His backside smarted a little. Jesus, that hadn’t been a light smack, he rather thought she’d hit him with a bit more enthusiasm than required.

  But what did it require? Still leaning on the bench, braced on both hands, Alan stared at the doorway, his thoughts tumbling through his head at breakneck speed. But most obvious was glaring, undeniable fact.

  Shy Sophie Willow had left the building and Sex Queen Sophie was now in residence.

  And he wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  ~*~

  To say her dreams hadn’t been restful was putting it mildly. In fact, they’d been a jumble of dark eyes, a wicked smile and a very firm hand. Just the memory was enough to make her blush and her heart stutter.

  It also made her cowardly stay in bed when she heard Alan get up early. Sam wasn’t yet back from his nightshift and there was no way Sophie was going to face Alan, not with her dreams still making her panties damp. No way.

  Call her a coward, she didn’t care.

  SJ jumped up onto her bed and stuck his face into hers, his wet nose bumping her chin. Alan called his name softly and Sophie forced herself to breath steadily, deeply, her heart almost stopping when she heard the creak of her bedroom door being pushed open a little wider.

  “Come here, SJ,” Alan whispered. “You’ll wake her up.”

  SJ ignored him and flopped down behind her.

  For a crazy second Sophie thought Alan would come into the room after him, but he simply whispered, “Fine. Whatever,” and walked away.

  Lying there with SJ purring loudly, Sophie listened as Alan puttered around the kitchen. The sounds and smells of breakfast toast and tea drifted on the air, but she resisted it and stayed in hiding. Like a coward. She didn’t care.

  Finally she heard the distant sound of the door shutting followed by the slight squeal of the garage door lifting. Sam really needed to get that fixed. Or Alan.

  Only once she was sure that he’d really gone did she crawl out of bed and make her way to the kitchen. Pushing the messy plait back over her shoulder, she picked up the piece of note paper sitting on the bench and read it.

  Sam - I’ll pick up the beer and soft drinks after work before the BBQ. Same with the food. Hell, I’ll just do the entire shop, okay? Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Alan.

  Grinning, Sophie put the paper back down on the counter. Just as quickly, her amusement faded. Crap. BBQ and meeting people. Not something she was good at, and this was also going to mean that most of them were going to have a pre-conceived idea of her.

  But maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. Sam had said they were friends. She hadn’t had any close friends when she’d lived here, so they were in all likelihood Sam’s old friends. Whatever, she just had to smile and put on her second face. Play her part.

  Speaking of parts…she checked the clock. She had to be at Elsie’s bookshop in a couple of hours. Time for a shower and breakfast before she left.

  Elsie’s bookshop was in the main street tucked between a florist and a souvenir shop. Managing to get a car park close by, Sophie turned off the engine just as her mobile rang. Wondering if it had been worth finding it under the car seat earlier, she glanced at the screen and smiled. Yeah, it had been worth it.

  Flipping it open, she placed it to her ear. “Hey, Ghost. How you goin’?”

  “I’m just dandy,” Ghost replied. “Have blood running down the walls.”

  “Awesome. Body parts?”

  “Shit load of them.”

  “Everywhere?”

  “Piled high.”

  “So it’s going great.”

  “Yeah.” Ghost’s voice faded before gaining strength again. “You ready?”

  “Always.”

  “Right.”

  Sophie grinned.

  “You just remember to stand your ground. Be the sex goddess.”

  “Sex goddess,” Sophie repeated dryly. “Hardly.”

  “Goddesses come in all shapes and sizes. Be the goddess.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Fine. Then just shock the shit out of them.”

  Sophie burst out laughing.

  “I’m serious,” Ghost said.

  “I know.” Still chuckling, she got out of the car. “How’re the kids?”

  “Max hacked up a hairball on my bed.”

  “Nice.”

  “Millie shredded my new book.”

  “Harsh critic.”

  “You’re telling me. I just got it in the post.” Ghost sighed. “Mauve drank all the milk out of the cereal bowl before I knew it.”

  “No manners.”

  “Mort shed hair on my new black slacks.”

  “He’s just giving it his seal of approval.”

  “Abraham ate my fern.”

  “He appreciates plants.”

  “I get the feeling you’re on their side.”

  “And you’d be right.” Moving around to the boot of the car, Sophie used her key to unlock it. “I better get moving, Ghost, I’m already a little later than I told Elsie I’d be. I don’t want to make a bad impression.”

  “Geez, you’re all of what - two minutes late?”

  “Twenty.”

  “Ooohh, you bad girl. Oh, you’re soooo bad. Spank me, mama!”

  “Just get back to disembowelling your characters, okay?”

  “Sure. And you get back to shagging yours.” There was silence for several seconds before Ghost added, “That didn’t come out
quite right.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Right, I’ll go. Good luck, Soph. Tell me how it all goes.”

  “I’ll phone you, I promise.”

  “Great. Bye, Soph.”

  “Bye, Ghost.” Sophie turned off the phone and flicked it shut, stuffing it into her handbag before eyeing the box of books.

  Time for the new Sophie to meet at least one old face. Time to see if Elsie expected someone a lot different to the girl she once knew. Game face.

  Taking the box out, she shut the lid of the boot and stepped up onto the footpath, following it along until she turned into the bookshop. It was empty of customers when she entered, a fact that had her breathing a sigh of relief and wonder if she’d ever get over her shyness. Surely other authors didn’t get the cold feet she suffered.

  Sometimes she was a real dill.

  The woman behind the counter looked up and gave a squeal of delight upon sighting Sophie and the box. “Sophie Willow!” Scurrying around the counter, she hurried to Sophie and grabbed the box from her arms. “Sophie!”

  “Elsie, it’s good to see you again.” Sophie could do nothing but follow her to the counter and watch as she dropped the box onto the smooth surface.

  Smiling widely, she gave Sophie an unexpected hug. “It’s so good to see you!”

  Not really into hugs from people she had never regarded as close, Sophie gave her an awkward pat on the back. Yeesh, talk about a bloke’s action.

  Pulling back, Elsie beamed at Sophie. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

  Yeah, right. She’d been thirteen when she’d left the city quite a few years ago.

  “Same hair, same eyes.” Elsie looked Sophie over. “Same everything.”

  Okay, that could be an insult or a compliment, Sophie wasn’t sure which, so she settled for the safe, “Thanks.” Trying to hide her discomfort, she glanced around. “Nice place you have here. What made you decide to get a bookshop?”

  Elsie was already digging into the box. “I read like crazy so it was only natural I fell into the bookshop business. Punishing Laura. Oh my God! That book was so hot!”

  That kind of response never failed to make Sophie feel a little giddy inside. A happy kind of giddy.