Champagne Cravings (10 page)

In the meantime, I said to Biel, “You are clearly fearless.
Not everyone is. So Piper worries her mega-star girlfriend is going to get it
on with everyone who catches her eye. That’s not a surprise.”

“Or an unrealistic assumption.” She placed her hand on my
thigh, just below the hem of my short skirt, and said, “I did sleep with
someone else. And I am attracted to you. So, she’s right.”

Whoa.
I needed some gin myself after that revelation.
As I drained my first glass and reached for the second one, Biel confessed all.

“I’ve always been faithful to her when we’re together. But
the truth is, the third time Piper left me, just a few months ago, I was
furious. I couldn’t understand why she kept doing this to me—to
us
. Up
until that point, I’d never cheated on her, I’d never even really given another
woman a second glance. I’ve loved Piper since I was sixteen, for Christ’s
sake.”

Biel’s warm hand remained on my black stocking-clad leg as
she spoke, her touch delicate, yet seemingly purposeful.

“The thing is,” she said as she gazed at me, “I reached that
point during the third breakup where I was like, ‘Why would I let someone do
this to me?’ I don’t have that insecurity that tells me I need to be with
someone or I’m not worth anything. I honestly love her and she lets stupid
little things spin her up. So…I got
fed
up. And I thought that maybe it
was time I see who else was out there.”

“And?” I asked, wanting to move her hand from my leg because
the touch was much too intimate for someone with my issues. But I didn’t want
to offend her. Especially not during her tell-all, when very deep and tormented
emotions filled her eyes.

“Well, I said to hell with it and I had sex with someone
else. We were broken up, after all. She’d moved out of the apartment and had gone
back to Hollywood. I was free to sleep with whoever I wanted.”

“Clearly, that didn’t work out for you. The two of you got
back together.”

Swiping at a tear running down her cheek, she said, “I
picked a man.”

That was a newsflash.

She pulled herself together and said, “He was very handsome
and having some emotional devastation of his own and that seemed to spur us on,
I guess. But it was only that once and when Piper came back to me a few weeks
later, I was so grateful.”

“Does she know you slept with someone else?”

Biel shook her head sharply. “No, no. I’ve never said
anything about my affair. Yes, I was free to be with someone else, but it would
crush her and I’d never tell her just to get even with her for hurting me.
Plus, the whole guy-experiment was to see if I’d been with Piper so long, I
just assumed I was a lesbian.”

She muttered this in a low voice, barely audible over the
loud music. No one could hear us in our secluded corner, I was sure.

“And you are?” I asked.

She shrugged noncommittally. “I can’t say one hundred
percent. I love Piper, but I enjoyed being with a man.”

“Hmm.” I suspected she’d felt the same thing I had last
night—that a vibrator is no substitute for the real thing. But her passion was
commanded by Piper, so that likely fulfilled her.

Ah, this was all very enlightening. I was left to believe
that Biel had not sabotaged her own career and Piper lived in fear of losing
the woman she loved. An all-too understandable concern, if you asked me.

But being in the thick of Biel and Piper’s relationship
wasn’t my ultimate goal.

“Hey,” I said, changing the subject and getting down to
brass tacks. “Do you have any idea who might want to jack the Elan program?
Either by leaking details of the ad campaign or switching your makeup?”

Biel gave this some thought, but came up empty-handed as she
shook her head. “The people I’ve worked with there are fantastic. I love the
setup and everyone is so onboard with everything we do. I can’t imagine anyone
wanting to hurt sales or damage any reputations.”

“What about the VPs of marketing and PR?” Because I hadn’t
forgotten about them.

“I don’t spend much time with the executives. They work with
the photographer on artistic direction and I do what he tells me to in front of
the camera.”

She paused a moment as she pondered something. I sipped my
drink while waiting patiently.

Finally, she said, “There is one thing. I really hate to say
it, because it’s none of my business and Mav has been so good to me. But maybe
it’s something to consider—I really do want to this ordeal to work out for
him.”

“Yes?” I asked, curiosity clawing at me.

“Well, it’s just that…he had an office fling.”

“Mav’s not married,” I said, “so that’s not really
scandalous.”

“No, I’m not saying it is. Though it is kind of tragic. See,
his wife left him last year. He wanted kids and she didn’t, so eventually, when
the business skyrocketed, she divorced him, taking half his money, their
apartment in Tribeca and a villa in Florence.”

“Geez, that does suck.”

“Yeah. So, anyway, he hooked up with someone at work, who
was also single. But it didn’t work out because Mav was still pining for his
ex. You pick up a lot of gossip in the studio.”

My eyes narrowed on her. “Who’d he hook up with?”

“That’s the tricky part.” She appeared reluctant to say the
name, but once she did, I understood why. “Olivia Benedict.”

“Whoa.” I sat back in my seat and tried to process
that
bombshell.

“Olivia runs the lab at Elan,” Biel told me, though I
already knew that. “She’s very kind and, from what I’ve heard, she’s crazy
about Mav. But it didn’t work out between them.”

“She’s the one who tested and packaged your makeup, right?”

Biel nodded, again seeming hesitant to do so, because it
created huge implications for Olivia.

She said, “Please don’t take what I’m saying as gospel. I
really like Olivia. I’m only telling you what I’ve heard, so it’s second hand.
And she really is a sweet woman. I can’t imagine she’d have anything to do with
what happened at the Montlimiere.”

“You’d be surprised what people will do for revenge, Biel.”

“From what I hear, Mav was very good to her. He just wasn’t
in the position to turn what they had into a relationship. He wasn’t ready to
go to the next level.”

“That can be painful.” As if either one of us needed that
reminder. Moving along I said, “So, the makeup was with you the entire time,
according to Cal Stoddard, head of security.”

“Yes, it was,” she said emphatically. “I swear, I never put
that bag down. And when we were ready, I handed it directly to Piper and
watched her break the seal. My eyes were on that makeup from start to finish,
Lacey.”

“Huh.” I was at a loss.

She took a drink, then startled me with an exuberant “Oh
wonderful!” as she gripped my leg a little tighter. “There are my friends, Meg
and Lanie.”

She waved them over, two highly stylish women dressed in
black with skyscraper heels. They joined us in the corner and Maxine appeared
at my elbow.

“Champagne?” she asked.

Biel handed her glass over to her friends for a sample and
said, “It’s a Gibson. Lacey turned me on to it.”

They sipped and nodded in approval and Biel ordered another
round.

Her hand had moved from my thigh and she gestured toward me
as she made the introductions. “Lacey Mansfield, meet Meg Kaplan and Lanie
Duvall, both are up-and-coming designers. Lacey is a…um… What exactly are you,
Lacey?”

I laughed at her perplexed expression. “Corporate fraud and
abuse investigator. I look into things like computer equipment requisitioned,
then sold on the street. Dummy financial accounts set up to funnel money to an
embezzler. Product launches gone awry…that sort of thing.”

“So do you know who’d do such a terrible thing to Biel?”
Lanie asked.

“Not yet. I suspect the attack wasn’t on Biel herself, but
meant to discredit Elan and the new makeup line.”

“No wonder Piper went back to California today,” Meg said.
“She must feel so awful about the entire mess. And terrified she’s going to
lose her other clients.”

While my initial instinct was to stand up for Biel and say
her partner should be with her during this sordid situation, I’d be back to
walking the fine line of hypocrisy. When they’d shut me down at the TV studio,
I’d wanted out. I hadn’t been strong enough to push my story through other
avenues or channels, too fearful of repercussions and public humiliation. In
fact, I’d done as Piper had—moved to the opposite side of the country.

Conversely, that demoralizing experience had helped me grow
a backbone. I’d been determined, when I’d moved to New York, to not let anyone
walk all over my convictions. That made me successful in fraud and abuse. I was
still struggling with my personal convictions, though, and I had a feeling Biel
did too when it came to Piper. The bottom line, however, was that despite her
one indiscretion, Biel stuck with the relationship. She was the one who was
still there, waiting for Piper to come around.

Thus, I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “The true victim
here is Biel. She’s the one who constantly picks up the shattered pieces and
puts them back together. Not Piper.”

Maybe it was the gin talking. Maybe it was my need to
cleanse my own soul and accept the fact I was Piper in my situation with Mike,
when I wanted to be Biel, in order to give us equal ground on which to stand.
He was one persistent sucker and he deserved as much effort from me as he
expended.

I suddenly wanted to call him, but I wasn’t completely sure
of what to say and I didn’t want to mess it up and spew nonsense in my slightly
intoxicated state.

Biel positively beamed as she sat a little straighter and
squared her shoulders. “Thank you, Lacey.”

“She’s right,” Lanie admitted.

Meg nodded.

Then Biel said, “Let’s go dance.”

The three women scooted out of the booth and, as Biel passed
my end of the sofa, she grabbed my hand and tugged on it.

“Upstairs,” she said. “VIP salon.”

How could I pass that up? I scurried to join them, but said,
“What about the bar tab?”

“They’ll roll it over,” she said with a smile. “They have my
credit card on file.”

We wound our way through the dimly lit club to the back
hallway, where a black velvet rope was whisked away as soon as the bouncer saw
Biel coming. We swept right past the sectioned-off area and through a door that
opened to a stairwell. Loud, energetic music met our ears before we even
reached the second floor. Flashing lights and dancing bodies filled the large
room. I instantly recognized a handful of celebrities and tried to keep from
gawking at them.

Biel spun around to face me, reaching for the top button on
my suit jacket. She flipped the disk through the hole with deft fingers.

“Love the suit,” she shouted over the noise, “but you’re way
overdressed for this kind of party.”

Luckily, I wore a structured white top with thin straps
underneath the jacket. The substantial boning helped to cinch my sides and
plump up my breasts.

“Much better,” Biel said as she took my small clutch from me
and dropped it, along with my jacket, on a sofa Meg and Lanie had already
claimed for us. “Now we dance!”

“Just so you know,” I said as I leaned in close so she could
hear me. “I’m totally straight.”

Her pearly whites glowed under the black light that
flickered above us. “I can tell. No worries. I’m still praying Piper will come
home soon.”

Poor girl. Though she held her head high and I admired that
about her.

“What’s his name?” she asked as we started to move to the
music.

“Mike Lucas. He’s sworn he’ll give up his womanizing ways to
be with me. He’s a super-hunk of epic proportions.”

She laughed. “I have no doubt.”

We abandoned the conversation and danced the night away.

Lust—3 Points. Love—TBD.

Three Gibsons, five or six glasses of champagne and many,
many hours later, Biel’s limo pulled along the curb outside my building. The
doorman helped me as I all but spilled from the car, ridiculously giddy with my
new friends.

“See you soon, Lacey!” Meg called out before they were
whisked away.

“Good evening, John,” I said to the doorman as he assisted
me into the lobby.

Chuckling, he informed me, “It’s almost five a.m., Miss
Mansfield.”

“Oh right.” I’d partied all night long with a supermodel and
her hip, designer friends. Decidedly
not
uncool.

Quite pleased with myself, I let John get the elevator for
me and press the button for my floor once I’d stepped inside.

“You’ll be okay getting to your apartment?” he asked.

“Still standing,” I said, though my words slurred ever so
slightly. “And it’s Lacey, remember?” I’d only told him a hundred times.

With a polite smile, he said, “Good day, then, Miss
Mansfield.”

He was a stickler for formality. I simply couldn’t sway him.

As the doors slid shut, I leaned against the wall for
support, not necessarily because of the alcohol. Though my head buzzed from the
booze, my legs were tired from so much dancing. My high school prom hadn’t been
that insane.

When I reached my own door, I fished through my tiny bag for
the keys. My jacket slipped from my fingers and I bent down to pick it up, only
to have my knees buckle. I fell to the floor, laughing hysterically at my
drunken stupor and muscle fatigue. The contents of my purse sprawled beside me
and I slowly scooped up the lipstick, credit card, ID and cell phone, stuffing
them back into the handbag while still giggling like a schoolgirl.

The commotion in the hallway drew Mike’s attention. He stuck
his head outside his door and let out a low chuckle at my likely disheveled
appearance and inability to stand on my own two feet.

“Didn’t break anything, did you?” he asked as he strode over
to me and knelt beside me.

I alternately rotated my ankles and wrists, then said,
“Nothing damaged but my model citizenship and quiet-neighbor image.”

“You’re pissed,” he said with a heartier laugh.

“Yes, yes I am.” I smiled up at him, thinking he was even
sexier with his hair mussed from sleep. He wore a pair of Levi’s only. Nothing
more. “You were in your kitchen when you heard me fall over, weren’t you?”

“I think the entire floor heard you fall over. Come on,” he
said as he slipped off my heels and helped me to my feet. He collected my
clutch and jacket, as well as my keys, and guided me past my door to his.
“Coffee or bed?”

“Can I decide when we get inside?” I was a bit distracted by
his gorgeous body.

“Whatever you want.”

“Were you about to shower?” I asked as he closed the door
behind us.

“After I finished my glass of milk.”

I giggled again. “Strong bones and muscles.” I couldn’t
resist splaying a hand over his rigid abdomen. “You should be in the ‘Got
Milk?’ ads. Sales would go through the roof.” My hand skimmed over his warm
skin, up to his hard chest. I sighed dreamily. “You really are a super-hunk.”

“Exactly how drunk are you?” he asked as he stared curiously
at me.

“Your cocktail selection was a huge hit. I think I
single-handedly brought back the Gibson. Then I danced all night long with Biel
and her friends in Velage’s VIP salon. How hip am I now?”

He grinned at me, making my stomach flip. “You’re smokin’
hot, is what you are,” he said as he took in my miniskirt and tight top. I
probably had ‘80s rocker hair going at this point. He lifted a few unruly
strands and held them to his nose. “And smoky smelling.”

“Fog machine.”

“So, since I need a shower and you need a shower…” He wagged
his brows at me.

“May as well conserve water,” I concurred. I was having a
hell of a time not touching him, so why not? Unfortunately, a thought niggled
my brain, telling me there was something I was supposed to say to Mike, but I
couldn’t quite get the words or the sentiment to gel in my head. All I knew was
I wanted to see him naked again.

Therefore, I didn’t let any errant thoughts interfere. Mike
gulped down the rest of his milk and then took my hand and led me into his
bathroom. I used his mouthwash as he turned the water on in the shower. Then he
stood behind me and slid the zipper on my top down its track. He discarded the
garment and palmed my bare breasts as his lips glided over my neck.

“God, I love your hands on my body,” I said on a breathy
sigh.

He massaged the mounds, then teased my nipples tight as the
steam covered the vanity mirror in front of us.

“That’s good,” he whispered in my ear. “Because I really
like your body.”

His hands shifted to the fastening of my skirt in the back.
He had me out of clothes and stockings in a heartbeat and then stripped off his
Levi’s and briefs. He was already hard and that made me ridiculously turned-on.

“Are you still playing the ‘no sex’ card?” I asked as my
hands roamed his muscular body.

He groaned. “You’re drunk. I can’t really take advantage of
the situation, can I?”

“I’m not that drunk,” I insisted.

With another amused chuckle, he said, “We’ll see how it
goes. You might fall on your ass again.”

“That was pretty funny.”

“I might have to check the security tape from the hallway to
see it myself.”

I swatted playfully at him. “Don’t you dare. My hip-factor
will drop back to zero.”

“I doubt it.”

He kissed me and I lost all train of thought. My arms
encircled his neck and I held on for dear life as his tongue delved deep,
setting every inch of me on fire. My breasts pressed to his chest as his hands
gripped my waist. When I was delirious from the euphoria coursing through my
veins, he pulled away.

“This will lead us straight to the bedroom,” he said in a
strained voice. “Come on.”

He took my hand and we stepped into the shower. The water
felt refreshing against my skin, still damp with perspiration from my
dance-a-thon at Velage. I dropped my head back to drench my hair as Mike
reached for the body wash and squirted a healthy amount into his palm.

As he rubbed his hands together to lather up, I grinned at
him. “We don’t need the bed, you know?”

He clearly got my meaning. Heat flashed in his eyes and his
jaw tightened for a moment. “You really do like playing with fire, don’t you?”

My arms slid around his neck again as I muttered, “Yes, I
do.”

I kissed him and his soapy hands went to work on my wet
body. When we were both squeaky clean, we shampooed and then rinsed off, but
didn’t leave the shower. The warm spray hit my back as I squeezed more of the
body wash into my hands and then wrapped my fingers around his erection.

Mike let out a sharp grunt and I bit back a satisfied smile.

Steadier on my feet now, I was able to ease down to my knees
in front of him without losing my balance. In fact, my buzz had almost worn
off.

I rubbed suds over my breasts and then took his cock between
them, enveloping his shaft.

“Lace,” he muttered. His hands plowed through my hair,
lifting the soaked strands away from my face and neck.

His penis slid along my slippery skin, poking out of the
valley between my breasts before disappearing again. Mike’s hips jerked as he
pumped his thick member in the tight, yet slick embrace I created.

As his breathing quickened and his fingers tangled in my
hair, I released him and leaned to one side until the water ran clean between
us. Then I bent my head and whisked my tongue over his head, making him buck.

My lips closed over his tip and I took him deep in my mouth.
He groaned.

“Christ, Lace,” he said on a harsh breath. “I’ve thought
about this more times than you can imagine.” He pulled in a sharp intake of air
and added, “You kick the crap out of every single fantasy.”

This, of course, prompted me to suck him hard, making him
grunt. I palmed his balls and lightly toyed with them, rolling and massaging,
then gently tugging on them until his legs trembled.

I released his cock and slowly dragged my tongue up the
length of him, teasing the rim of his head before taking him in my mouth again.
I’d never been opposed to oral sex, but with Mike, I enjoyed it even more. His
sexy grunts and the shudders that ran through his body sent a wicked thrill
down my spine and made me more determined to pleasure him.

My diligence paid off.

His hips jerked again and he said in a tight voice, “You’re
going to make me come, babe.”

I appreciated the warning, but I didn’t back off. I intended
to see this job through.

Still massaging his sac, I sucked him harder.

“Oh, yeah, Lace. Just like that. Damn, you’re good.”

I kept at it and seconds later, his fingers tightened around
strands of my hair and a violent tremor rocked his body. He called my name as
he came.

I let him ride out the climax, and then smiled up at him.

Mike snorted. “Pleased with yourself, eh?”

He untangled his fingers and gripped my shoulders, hauling
me to my feet as I still beamed brightly.

“Let’s just say you’re not the only one who fantasized about
that.”

With a low groan, he said, “It was worth the torturous
wait.”

He reached behind me and shut the water off.

In a sassy tone, I said, “You know, I have no idea where you
keep your towels.”

His smirk was a sexy showstopper. “Smartass.”

He retrieved two of them for me from beneath the sink. I
used one to wrap my hair as he draped the other around my shoulders, then
yanked his own towel from the hook on the wall and dried himself off.

I couldn’t take my eyes from him. I pulled the bath sheet
around my body and tucked in the corner above my breasts. When Mike returned
his towel to the hook and scooped up his briefs, I lifted a brow.

“Really? You’re not going to stay naked for me?”

He grinned. “Well, I’m not sure what your intentions are,
sweetheart.”

“Bed,” I told him as I ran a hand over the ledge of his pecs
and then gently scraped a small, beaded nipple with my fingernail. “Definitely
bed.”

He tossed aside the black material he’d held in his hand. He
dug out the blow dryer from the vanity and I used it while he sauntered off
toward the bedroom. I swished mouthwash again and then joined him, closing the
door behind me, which plunged the room into darkness, save for the soft glow
coming from beneath the blinds. The sun was rising.

Mike pulled back the covers next to him and I slid between
his crisp, white sheets. He had a cleaning lady who kept his apartment spic and
span and she also did his laundry.

I snuggled close to him and his hands were instantly on my
body, cupping my breasts as his head lowered and he tongued my nipple, teasing
it tight. My palms slid over his rock-hard biceps, up to his broad shoulders
and down his back. Then I ran my fingers through his damp hair and sighed
contentedly as he pleasured the other nipple, already puckered and primed for
him.

A molten sensation oozed through my veins and my clit
tingled. I hadn’t come remotely close to reconciling all the thoughts I had
about my involvement with this man, but the sexual bliss he so easily evoked
assured me I wasn’t crazy for jumping onboard his bandwagon.

He rolled onto his back, taking me with him. My thighs
straddled his lap as he kissed me. One of his hands skimmed down the front of
me and found that sensitive knot of nerves between my legs. He rubbed it
vigorously, inciting a riot of blazing sensations within me. His other hand
moved over my ass, squeezing a cheek before his fingers swept along the crevice
and he thrust two fingers into my wet pussy.

I propped an elbow on a mountain of pillows and stretched
the other arm so I could flatten my palm against the tufted headboard for
support. Mike’s fingers inside me pumped in the same erratic rhythm he used on
my clit, making me moan and writhe and go up in flames.

He sucked a nipple into his mouth and I let out a small cry
of pleasure. My hips rolled and gyrated with his quick pace and I felt
intensely raw and dynamic feelings collide and erupt deep in my cunt. My small
cry turned into a satisfied scream. I shuddered from the sheer ecstasy coursing
through me and my breath came in heavy pulls. My skin tingled and my insides
felt vibrant and fiery.

I collapsed against Mike’s chest, savoring all the glorious
sensations as I tried to catch my breath. He held me in a tight embrace and
though I felt his erection, he didn’t make a move to enter me.

As I came down from my high, sleepiness edged in on me and I
yawned. Mike laughed softly and the sound was music to my ears. A sweet lullaby
that made me wiggle out of his embrace, slide off his hunky body and curl up
next to him. His fingers stroked my hair and he kissed my forehead.

“Sleep tight, party girl,” he murmured as my eyelids drifted
closed. I was out in seconds.

* * * * *

I woke to the rich and wondrous aroma of a fresh pot of
strong coffee…and a note. Mike had slipped from the bed at some point and I’d
been too out of it to stir and take notice. Sparing a glance at the clock on
the nightstand, I groaned. It was past one in the afternoon. I had work to do,
and here I was snoozing the day away.

I snatched up the note card Mike had left on his pillow and
read it as I tossed off the covers and padded into his bathroom. He had a break
in his art theft case and was chasing leads today.

His parting words on the monogrammed stationery said,
“Thanks for taking the edge off, babe. Love, M.”

Ignoring the tickle of excitement that naturally accompanied
the reminder of our steamy morning together, I stared at his closing remark.
The “Love” part in particular.