Try Me On for Size (8 page)

“Okay, you can come here now,” she said, so ready for this to be over.

She looked around his area a bit first. It was completely shaved. Or more likely waxed. Ouch. She examined the shaft and head, then took him in her hand, pumping up and down a few times. It was a good size and it felt good in her hand.

“I’m getting close. How do you want it?”

“Huh?”

“On your stomach or in your mouth? Or do you want to do a titty-fuck kind of thing. That’s always hot.”

“Excuse me?” Mia pushed him away from her. “There’s no ejaculation here.”

“Why not? That’s the whole point, right? The money shot. I’ve watched a lot of porn and that’s the moment everyone waits for.”

“There’s no moment. No money shot! What the hell do you think we’re doing this for?”

“Aren’t you looking for a guy for your porno flick?”

“Uh, no. I need a model to mold his penis for our sex toy line.”

“That’s not what I was told.”

“Well, you were told wrong.” Mia stood, scanned her room for the nearest bottle of hand sanitizer. “You can go now.”

“Did I get the job?”

“No. Please leave.”

“But I’m hard. Can I finish?”

“Get out!”

Brad gathered his things and left Mia’s bedroom. Lucky for him, he didn’t say another word. She would not have been responsible for her actions had he uttered another syllable.

She flopped onto her bed. Thank God this was over. Mia felt herself start to drift off. No. She needed the stink of that guy off her, wash away the memory. She hopped into the shower, letting the scorching stream sanitize her skin. She then scrubbed her hand with a loofah just to make sure it was completely clean. The exfoliation wouldn’t hurt, either.

The shower had revived her somewhat, so after slipping into fleece pants and a cotton long-sleeve tee, she grabbed her interviewee files and sat at the kitchen table with a mug of her favorite green tea.

Brad’s file went straight to the recycling bin. Chad’s, too. That left Boy Band Kyle, Reality Star Logan, and the ridiculously amazing man who would be left unnamed. She couldn’t think about
him
.

Judging solely on penises, Kyle was shorter but decently thick, while Logan was long and thin. Almost a draw there.

Personality-wise, Kyle was a lot on the immature side. But his smile and boyish charm did manage to get the horny housewives to shell out a ton during ladies’ night. Logan was a charmer, too, very kind and sweet. Aside from the part where she fondled his junk, it had been like spending an evening with a good guy friend. But the reality show thing? She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She made a mental note to talk to Bryn about it.

Then she picked up Ryan’s file. Ridiculously Amazing Ryan. She sighed and stretched her arm toward the recycling bin with the folder.
But one last look at those eyes and bod won
’t hurt.
She pulled it back and opened it, reading over her notes, and instantly she was taken back to that night and what had happened in her office that afternoon. There were no words to explain any of it. Maybe just, “Wow.” He was a little less outgoing than Logan, but were words really even necessary with eyes and a smile like his?

Mia pulled the eight-by-ten glossies from his file. Muscular legs and thighs, chest like a god. She looked at the close-up of his pelvic area and her heartbeat sped. Such a beautiful thing.

But then she noticed it. Or rather, didn’t notice it. Ryan had a small birthmark on his hip. She’d never forget that. She’d seen it their first night together and again during their office tryst. She’s wanted to kiss it, run her tongue over it, and continue toward the rock-hard part of him. But there hadn’t been time.

She shook out of her sex haze and looked back to the table. The photo was birthmark-less. What the hell?

Mia pulled the photo of his face, examining his eyes. Were they different? The nose? The lips looked different. Less plump. Less soft. She knew his lips. This was not Ryan. Those were not Ryan’s lips.

Actually those were Ryan’s lips. The Ryan she was supposed to interview. So who the fuck’s lips had she kissed instead? How had this impostor wormed his way into her interview?

Mia’s blood boiled and surged through her veins. That asshole! She stood fast, knocking over the chair behind her, too mad to even pick it up. She raced to her bedroom where the notepad sat with his number written on it. She picked it up, ready to dial.

And then she saw it. A pen. It was far too fancy to be hers. Picking it up, she immediately noticed the engraving on it:
Oliver J. Christensen

He’d pulled it from the inside pocket of his superexpensive suit.
Caught ya.

Mia breathed deeply and closed her eyes, trying to calm her anger. How should she deal with this? Calling him and yelling was too easy. He deserved to be punished for his stupidity.

Plugging his number into her cell phone, she hit send.

“Hey, it’s Mia,” she said, disguising her rising anger with cheeriness.

“Hi. I was hoping you’d call. How are you?”

“Fine. Can you come over?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I need to see you.”

“I can be there in twenty.”

“See ya then.”

The phone clicked off with a beep. Bastard. He sounded chipper, like a guy about to get laid. Boy, was he in for a surprise.

Mia went to her bedroom and put on the sexiest outfit she had, a silky nightgown Bryn had made her take home from the shop when she’d been dating this one guy a year or so ago. She ripped off her fuzzy pajamas and slid the soft red fabric over her head. A quick look in the mirror for some face powder, then mascara and a fresh coat of the shiniest lip gloss she had. A few squirts of perfume and the final touch, she pulled the elastic from her hair and hung her head upside down. Fluffing it with her hands, she flipped her hair back up and it curled around her shoulders and halfway down her back.

She was so ready to bust his ass!

The bell rang and Mia opened the door in only her nightie, trying out her most seductive voice. “Hi.”

His jaw dropped. “Wow. You look beautiful.”

Before she could stop him, he reached for her waist and pulled her to him, pressing his lips to her.
Don’t let him turn you into a girly puddle of giddiness!
It took every ounce of restraint she possessed to back away.

“Not yet.” She closed the door and led him to her couch, pushing him down.

Damn, did he look good in casual attire, dark jeans and thin V-neck sweater.

Stop it! Stay focused!

Kneeling between his thighs, Mia went right for his pants zipper. She ignored the throbbing hard-on and yanked the boxer briefs off his hips. Bending down, she placed her lips on his birthmark.

A low groan rumbled in the back of Ryan’s . . . er . . . Oliver’s throat. “That feels so good.”

Mia looked up at him, cooing, “Sexy little birthmark you have there.”

“You like it?”

She sat up, narrowing her eyes at him. “Funny thing about that birthmark. It’s not in a single one of your modeling photos.”

His eyebrows rose a bit, and his eyes widened just a tad. The minuscule bits of shock on his face gave him away.
Don’t even try to deny it.

“Um.” He sat up and adjusted his underwear and jeans. “What do you mean?”

Mia stalked toward the kitchen table and came back, throwing the photos at him. “These are not you,
Oliver
.”

He didn’t even look at them, just inhaled and let it out.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“I don’t know.” He wouldn’t even look at her.

“You’re not a model. You were never meant to interview with me. You’re just some random guy!” The words echoed in Mia’s brain. “Oh my God. You were never tested. You could be some disease-laden scum!”

He stood and finally met her fire-filled eyes. “I’m not. I swear. Let me explain.”

“There is no explanation that could possibly justify your actions.”

He put a hand to her arm. “Please.”

Mia yanked it away. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

He ran his hands through his hair. “You were so beautiful. I just had to talk to you that night.”

“Don’t try to sweet talk me.”

“I’m not. It’s the truth. I saw you there, alone. I figured you’d been stood up. So I went over. The second you thought I was your blind date, I should have stopped. But I couldn’t. I wanted to be with you.”

“Oh, yeah. No-strings sex with a stranger. Who wouldn’t want that?”

“That’s not it at all. I told you. You were so beautiful . . . so different from the women I’ve been with. Intriguing. I couldn’t tell you I wasn’t who you thought and risk you walking away from me, never to see you again. So I went along.”

“Your excuse is unacceptable. What you’ve done disgusts me. I don’t ever want to see you again. Please leave.”

“Let me—”

“Get out!”

If she’d thought he looked sad at the bar a few days earlier, multiple that by about a hundred and that’s how he now looked. But his emotions were none of her concern. He’d lied to her. And she didn’t put up with liars. Ever. End of story.

Oliver turned and obeyed, the click of the door like a bomb exploding. Good riddance.

Now Mia could get on with her life, get on with this project. Maybe she should thank him for being an ass. It sure as hell made it easy for her to walk away and never think about him again.

CHAPTER
Nine

“F
uck!” Oliver
yelled as he sat in his car and banged his head on the steering wheel. This is what he’d feared. He should have told Mia the truth that first night, before anything had happened. But at the time, he’d just been looking for a little fun. He’d never expected to feel this way.

And exactly what way did he feel? To hell if he could figure it out.

One thing he did know, he thought of her constantly. And couldn’t give two shits what his fiancée was doing. But Mia—he wondered what she was doing, who she was with. Was she thinking of him, wanting him? He sure as hell wanted her. And it wasn’t purely the sex, though it was fantastic. He craved her effortless beauty and easygoing personality. He just liked being with her.

Aside from losing Mia, he’d obviously lost the job, too. Which actually bummed him out more than he’d thought it would. It seemed like a fun thing to do. Plus there was the added perk of potentially getting Alexiana out of his life.

How would he do that now? Being with Mia had made him realize more than ever that he could not sacrifice his happiness. But he was a man of honor, though it didn’t much seem like it at the time, and he’d been taught to see his promises through.

He’d promised to marry Alexiana and raise a child with her. One he suspected didn’t even exist. If that was the case, there had to be a way to prove she was lying.

Oliver started his car and drove away. He’d made a real mess of his life and he had no idea how he would fix any of it. Someone was going to be unhappy. And it would most likely be him.

“UNBELIEVABLE,” BRYN
said after listening to Mia’s recount of her night. “He seemed so normal. Not assholey at all.”

Penny sat by, eyes wide, jaw in her lap.

“A liar,” Mia said, shaking her head. “Just like 90 percent of the male population. I think you guys got the only two respectable men in the state.”

“Oh, come on. You haven’t dated one decent guy in your life?” Penny asked.

“Nope. And Bryn can attest to that.”

“To some degree,” she agreed. “But you’re super picky. No one is perfect and you let the tiniest quirks annoy you.”

“I think sleeping with someone under an assumed identity is classified as a whole lot more than a ‘quirk.’ ”

“True. But you’ve tossed away some fine men because of dirty socks on the floor and chewed fingernails.”

“I refuse to settle and live my life dealing with things that annoy me.”

Ryan . . . er . . . .Oliver hadn’t thrown his socks on her floor like all the other interviewees had. Well, accept for Logan. He’d worn flip-flops, which was a whole different irritation all together. But Oliver had folded his socks with his suit pants and placed them on her chair. And his nails were suitably clipped and filed, no jagged edges, no girlie manicure like Kyle.
Stop thinking about Oliver!

After he’d left her apartment the night before, an uncontrollable sadness crept into her otherwise furious heart. So, she’d allowed herself ten minutes to bawl her eyes out. When the pity party was over, she pushed him from her thoughts and added him to the pile of discarded men she had no use for.

But damn it, her heart kept digging him out and bringing him back to her conscious mind. The thought of their encounters together had her wishing she’d taken home one of the new vibrators from the shop.

“So, what do we do now?” Penny asked.

“First of all, I call the real Ryan and find out what happened.” Mia reached for the phone, his resume sitting on the table in front of them. “If he’d shown up, none of this would be happening right now.”

Three minutes later she hung up and tossed the résumé into the trash. “He stood me up to stay faithful to his girlfriend.”

“See, there are good men out there.” Bryn gave her the smile she gave her kids when they needed to be coddled.

“Hardly. The coward couldn’t even call to tell me he’d chickened out.” Mia fanned the other models’ photos across the break-room table. “Now we make our decision based on the other interviewees. We have two models to choose from.”

“This guy’s cute,” Penny said and pointed to Kyle’s photo.

“He is, and very suave with the ladies, but he is a bit immature. I can almost see him taking off and leaving us high and dry if some other opportunity comes along. That or a horny soccer mom.”

Bryn’s eyebrows furrowed. “Huh?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“O . . . kay. So what about blondie here?” Bryn asked. “He’s hot, too.”

“I liked Logan. And he’s got the reality show thing he’s working on. Who knows if it will actually come to fruition, but it could be a perk.”

The women stared at the photos for a while, flipping between face shots and photos of their bodies and genitalia.

“Well, you said Logan has the longer dick, so I vote for that.” Bryn was so blunt sometimes, but Mia secretly liked it. She often said what was on Mia’s mind.

“I think he’s the better option, just for his maturity level. And yes, his length was a definite perk.”

“Okay. It’s settled then,” Penny said. “We should get the process started. I already have posters and flyers ready to go. We just need to load the photos and add his name. Who’s gonna call and deliver the good news to him? And the bad news to everyone else?”

Mia looked to Bryn. “I’ve done all the hard work so far. You can take it from here.”

ANOTHER DEPRESSING
day at the office was over. Oliver had slept like shit the night before, the scene with Mia replaying over and over again.

He drove but had no desire to go home. But where else to go? Any of his usual after-work hangouts would only bring him face to face with friends and colleagues. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. As if on autopilot, the car headed toward The Red Brick Inn, the dingy bar he’d met Mia in, the place he’d gone several nights just hoping she’d walk in. Was he hoping for that again?

Even if that did happen, she’d just give him more of the same. And he deserved it.

He pulled into a parking lot and turned around, heading back toward his condo.

“What took you so long?” Alexiana barked the second he opened the door. “We have dinner ressies in half an hour.”

Fuck. What boring get-together was she dragging him to now? “What for?”

“I told you last night. We’re taste-testing entrée selections for the wedding. Mommy and Daddy will be there, and the wedding coordinator, too. Go change. I laid out your Gucci suit and a new shirt and tie I bought today.”

Oliver would rather take the new tie and make a noose out of it, but trudged to the bedroom anyway. He flopped onto the bed next to his suit.

The
click-clack
of designer shoes on hardwood echoed in his ears.

“Get up! You’re going to wrinkle your suit.”

Alexiana went to her vanity, searching out her signature scent and spritzed. “Oh, I wanted to ask.” She released a snorted giggle. “Have you heard about that job yet?”

“No.” He lied. He’d received a very brief, very polite message from Bryn earlier that day, telling him they would not be needing his services.

“Whatever. Even if they hire you, there’s no way I’m letting my husband be some underwear model. That’s just disgusting and degrading.”

“You may be my fiancée, but you don’t tell me what I can and cannot do.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, let me just call your mother then. See what she thinks about this little side job of yours.”

“These threats are old.”

“Trust me, it’s not a threat.”

“You know what? Go ahead. Tell her.”

She huffed and crossed her arms across her chest. “I don’t have time for this now. You’ve got five minutes to change and be ready.”

She stepped toward the full-length mirror, smoothing a skin-tight dress, not one bump, lump, or ripple. He didn’t know much about being pregnant, but he assumed by now there would be some evidence of a growing life.

“Hey. When’s your next prenatal appointment?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“I want to go with you.”

He thought he saw a brief moment of panic in her reflection. She turned to him. “Why?”

“Isn’t that something dads-to-be do?”

“Maybe, but that’s not how
I’m
doing it. I don’t want anyone there with me. It’s a doctor’s appointment. It’s private.”

“Okay. Fine. I get it.” He’d have to give up that idea. Maybe he could try another angle. “Have you had any cravings? What about weight gain and bloating and stuff like that. Aren’t pregnant women supposed to be tired, too?”

“I don’t know. Why do you care all of a sudden? Not all pregnant women are the same, you know. I’m handling it my own way. Now get ready. We have to go.” She headed for the door.

“Nah. Go without me,” he said, trying not to smirk. “I’m tired and my stomach hurts.”

She spun around, the fire of hell in her eyes. “You’re lying. You look fine.”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. I’m handling it in my own way.”

“I can’t go alone. How will it look if the groom can’t be bothered to show up for the food tasting for his own wedding?”

“I don’t care how it looks.”

Alexiana clenched her jaw. There was more she wanted to say, but she kept it in. Thankfully. She stomped to the bathroom and when she returned, Oliver was in cotton lounge pants and a T-shirt. He’d neatly hung his suits back in the closet.

“So what are you going to do all night? Just sit here?”

“Yep. That’s what tired people with stomachaches do.” He grabbed the remote and flipped on the flat screen, flopping onto their king-sized bed and its lush bedding. “Tell me all about it when you come home.”

She huffed and stalked away. Good riddance. He was no closer to finding out if she was faking her pregnancy, but he sure had pissed her off. What other things could he do to annoy her enough to leave him? The brainstorming session briefly took his mind off Mia. But then he was right back there thinking of her, which made his gut ache for real.

Was there any way he could make it up to her? Could a woman find a way to trust a guy who’d lied to her, who’d assumed another person’s identity to get close to her? A regular woman, maybe. A strong independent woman like Mia? Probably not.

What if he begged her for the job? Showed her he was the right man for it and proved how trustworthy he could be. He’d royally screwed it up with her, but he could change her mind. He had to try.