Authors: Lori Foster
Raquel leaned back in her chair, propped her feet on the desk and adjusted Smookie’s position in her lap while she talked on the phone. Tonight‘s caller was over-the-top, but if he was willing to pay twenty-five bucks an hour just to have sex talk with her, then she wouldn’t complain.
She knew the picture he had pulled up on his computer screen wasn’t her, and she would never, ever on this planet do any of the things she was suggesting in this call. But she was an actress and it paid the bills.
She stroked Smookie’s fur and smiled. “Oh, Robbie, I just love it when you talk to me that way,” she said, referring to him by the first name he was using. “You keep it up and I’ll be coming soon. I won’t be able to hold it back,” she said with a bated breath, sounding like a woman on the verge of having an orgasm any minute.
“Then I’m going to give you multiples.”
Yeah, right
, she thought, rolling her eyes. He’d had her on the phone forty-five minutes already and had even hinted at calling 906-HOT-WIRE for an additional hour. Little did he know that chances were when he did call back, he wouldn’t get her. This was her last call for tonight.
“You know, before this call ends, sweetheart,” he was rasping into the phone, “you can give me your address, and I can come over and continue things.”
She rolled her eyes again.
Not on your best night, bud
. Besides, he’d already let it slip he lived somewhere in Iowa. Did he really assume she was the girl next door from his hometown? Seriously? In that case he’d probably be pretty darn shocked to know she lived thousands of miles away in Alabama. On top of that, instead of wearing the skimpy white negligee she’d claimed, she was in her shorts, T-shirt and flip-flops. Definitely nothing sexy about her tonight.
“You know our policies, Robbie,” she said, not caring if he knew them or not. By the time midnight rolled around, she would have made an easy thousand or more. Not bad, when on a given day she could move around her condo and clean up while making all kind of lewd and lascivious noises. She could understand why Smookie looked at her strangely sometimes.
Smookie
.
She glanced down at the one thing she held most precious. The last birthday gift her brother, Jordan, had given her before he’d died two years ago in a car accident. It had been her twenty-fifth birthday and Jordan had dropped by her apartment to surprise her. At first she’d been upset, since he’d known she wasn’t into pets. They required too much time and way too much attention.
However, once she’d looked in the box at the snow-white toy poodle puppy staring back at her, she’d been smitten. And now, almost two years later, she truly didn’t know what she would do without her Smookie. The dog was everything Raquel had needed after Jordan’s death. Smookie was her baby.
Moving her hand to gently caress Smookie’s soft belly, which showed signs of protruding, Raquel thought,
My baby is about to have a baby
. Possibly more than one. According to Dr. Jones, a toy poodle Smookie’s size and age could have up to four.
That thought made her think of Quest Newman and his Bandit. She frowned. Just like a male to make a hit and then run. But if he thought he was going to get away with it, he had another thought coming. “I have to believe he’s going to do what’s right,” she muttered aloud.
“Precious, what did you say? It feels right?”
Raquel blinked, remembering she still had Robbie on the phone and she was supposed to be rubbing her hand over her breasts. “Yes, Robbie, it feels right,” she purred.
She glanced over at the clock. Less than ten minutes to go. She hoped she could last that long, since she was getting sleepy. She would never forget when her best friend, Whitney Frazier, had come up with the idea of starting what she’d called Companionship Plus. Whitney had purchased one of those 900 hotlines and gone into business. She had talked Raquel into being her first phone actress and, within less than six months, Raquel had made enough money to quit her day job as a claims adjuster for an insurance company.
Then Whitney began throwing the what-ifs out there, and suggested that with Raquel’s voice—one that a lot of guys described as sultry—they could start the hot wire, a special line just for Raquel. The callers would pay a premium because they would feel they were getting exclusive services. It had worked. Raquel’s income had nearly tripled.
Although the sex conversations could get rather explicit and graphic at times, she still couldn’t believe how much money men would pay for such foolishness. Now, almost a year later, she considered herself an actress, because acting was what she did. Her role as Precious was to make men happy by fulfilling a fantasy.
Overall, being a phone actress had definite perks. Including being able to work in the comfort of her own home, and speaking to a lot of interesting guys who just wanted to talk and needed someone to listen. Most wanted to fulfill their fantasies over the phone, fantasies they felt they couldn’t share with their wife or significant other.
And now Companionship Plus, in which she was a silent partner, employed more than two hundred other women across the country, providing most of them with extra incomes earned from the privacy of their own homes, working schedules that were ideal for them. Most handled the hotline, but twenty had advanced and, like her, worked the hot wire exclusively. She preferred letting Whitney run the business while she worked with the staff on the phones.
The beep sounded, letting Robbie know he had only a minute left. “I enjoyed talking to you tonight, Precious. Who knows, maybe we’ll meet up in person one of these days.”
She frowned, thinking she definitely hoped not. “Yes, maybe we will. It was nice talking to you.”
Moments later she hung up the phone and stood, cuddling Smookie in her arms. “That was the last call for the night, Smookie. Thank goodness. Time for us to get ready for bed.”
After taking a shower, she moved around her condo, cutting off lights and making sure all the doors were secured. It was on nights like this that she missed Jordan something awful. It had not been unusual for him to drop by her place after one of his late-night poker games. In fact, he’d been on his way to a poker game when a drunk driver had lost control of his car and plowed into Jordan’s.
Her baby brother. Her only brother, who’d been only two years younger than her, had lost his life instantly. Leaving her all alone with no other relatives close by. Her parents were living in England. After retiring from the military seven years ago, they had decided to make Europe their home.
Less than an hour later, Raquel was cuddled beneath the covers with Smookie lying on top of them beside her. Raquel couldn’t stop her thoughts from drifting to when she’d confronted Quest Newman earlier that day. All the talk she’d heard from the women out walking their dogs was true. He was good-looking, well built, sexy and just all-around luscious. But her business with him took top billing over all that. She would see if he kept his word and followed up with her.
What if his dog sitter lied? Then it would be her word against the sitter’s. She wondered if they could run DNA testing on dogs. She rolled her eyes, not believing she would consider
taking things that far. If Quest Newman didn’t believe her and refused any responsibility, then she would take care of Smookie’s expenses herself. She could certainly afford to do so. It was just the principle of the thing.
Yes, she thought as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. It was the principle of the thing.
Quest stared at his cousin, trying to get a grip before he opened his mouth to speak. “So you’re telling me that everything Raquel Capers said is true?”
Tawny shrugged, trying to keep the
“Busted!”
look off her face. “Well, I can’t validate her claim that Bandit actually copped some off her doggy, since I wasn’t there to see it for myself,” she said. “But then, knowing Bandit like I do, I don’t doubt it. You know what they say, ‘Like owner, like doggy.’”
He frowned. “And what do you mean by that?”
She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Quest. You know what I mean. You’re a Newman. You and your brothers like females, and evidently so does your dog. Besides, Bandit’s a male—four years old—which is a lot of years in human years. He needed a woman. All men do.”
Quest rolled his eyes. “We’re talking about a dog, Tawny.”
“Yes, we are. So you should have gotten him fixed years ago like I suggested. So in a way, it’s all your fault.”
He couldn’t believe she’d said that. “My fault? Is it my fault that I trusted you to keep my dog? I paid you to do it, and the first chance you got you dumped him on a stranger.”
“The old lady wasn’t a stranger. I used to see her in the park all the time. She was nice. I could tell. And once I told her about my emergency, she understood.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “And that’s another thing—there wasn’t an emergency.”
She lifted her chin. “There was to me. Okay, I shouldn’t have lied and said someone had died, but when Roy called and said he had a weekend pass from the marine base and asked me to meet him in Vegas, and there was a paid ticket waiting on me at the airport, what was I to say?”
“That you had responsibilities you needed to fulfill and that you’d gotten paid to do them.”
Aggravated, he rubbed his hands over his head. “And why did you tell that woman Bandit was fixed?”
“I was desperate,” she said, with a pitiful look on her face that she evidently figured would get her some slack. “Besides, I didn’t know the other dog was in heat,” she implored. “Bandit wasn’t paying that dog any attention. How was I to know he was just being cool and nonchalant until he got her behind closed doors?”
Quest released a deep breath, wondering why he’d even initiated this conversation with Tawny. But he had needed to know the truth and now that he did, he had to contemplate his next step. One thing was certain; he definitely owed Ms. Capers an apology.
“And why wasn’t her dog fixed?”
Tawny’s question barged into his thoughts. “Don’t you dare try placing the blame on Raquel Capers. The point is that you knew Bandit wasn’t fixed, yet you lied and said that he was.”
Tawny shrugged. “Why are you getting so uptight about it? It’s not like she can take you to court to make you pay puppy support.” She snickered as if she found the very thought amusing.
He didn’t see anything funny. She might not take her responsibilities seriously, but he did. Bandit was his dog and he would take full responsibility for his actions and behavior. “Don’t count on ever keeping Bandit again, Tawny.”
“Hey, that’s not fair, Quest. Bandit likes me. If I don’t keep him, who will? Your parents don’t have the time, Quincy isn’t into dogs and Brett’s in Atlanta. That leaves just me,” she said, smiling.
He glared. “No, that doesn’t leave just you. There are other dog sitters out there. The person I leave Bandit with has to be responsible.”
“But—but I need the extra money for my classes at the university. What about my hair, my nails, my music?”
“Then I suggest you get a real job.” He walked off.
The door opened and Quest felt his mouth lift into an easy smile. He knew that he had done the right thing by coming here. “Thanks for agreeing to see me, Ms. Capers.”
Maybe it was the cool look on her face that had him wondering if, although she had agreed to this meeting when he’d talked to her on the phone, perhaps she wished it wasn’t taking place.
Instead of saying anything, she moved aside and allowed him to enter her home. He turned and she closed the door behind him. “Would you like something to drink, Mr. Newman?”
At least she was being hospitable. “Yes.”
She nodded. “Beer? Wine? Soda?”
“Beer is fine. Thanks.”
She pushed back off the door. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
He watched her leave, once again getting a backside view that he could appreciate. She was in a pair of jeans with a cute pullover blouse. Blue. He’d seen her twice, and both times he’d liked her blouse. This one showed enough cleavage to make him want to see more. And her body was real tight, firm, which made him believe she worked out a lot.
He glanced around and thought she had a nice place, spacious, with appealing contemporary furniture. He appreciated fine things and could tell she did as well. Only difference was she had somehow made all of her nice things appear like a home instead of a museum. He liked that.
He felt a movement at his leg and glanced down, smiling at the white toy poodle staring up at him. He had never seen such a beautiful dog—and she looked so girlie with the pink bow in her head and the polished pink toes.
On instinct, Quest leaned down and picked her up in his arms, thinking about how fluffy she felt. “So you’re Smookie. No wonder my Bandit liked you. You’re a pretty little thing and would turn any male head.”
Just like your owner
, he thought, remembering Raquel Caper’s exit from the room and how he had enjoyed watching it.
He continued to pat the dog’s head. Smookie was friendly, and he bet she had a good temperament. Bandit could be a handful on his I-don’t-want-to-be-bothered days and was moody at times. Quest glanced up when he heard Raquel return carrying a bottle of beer and a glass.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to drink out of the bottle,” she said, placing both down on the coffee table.
“Thanks.”
She reached for Smookie and the dog went straight to her. It was easy to see Raquel and Smookie had strong affections for each other, just like he and Bandit.
“I prefer straight out of the bottle and this is my favorite brand,” he said, taking a huge swig.
“Figures.”
He glanced over at her. “Why ‘figures’?”
“That was my ex’s favorite brand as well. That’s the only reason I still have it.”
He lifted a brow. “Ex, as in husband or boyfriend?”
“Ex as in boyfriend.”
Quest lifted the bottle to his gaze as if searching for an expiration date, knowing that for beer there wasn’t one. “How long ago?”
“How long ago?”
He lowered the bottle and held her gaze. “Yes. How long ago did the two of you split?”
There was something about the way Quest was looking at her that made Raquel suddenly feel funny inside. It definitely hadn’t helped matters when he had walked into her home with a sexy stride that made her pulse flutter. It had been hard to school her expression and not show female appreciation at seeing him in a soft yellow button-down polo shirt and a pair of relaxed-fit jeans that emphasized strong, masculine thighs.
He also had a gorgeous pair of eyes. She’d noticed them the last time but had been too pissed off to appreciate them until now. Then there were his features, sharp and handsome. The creamy cocoa color of his smooth skin made her want to lick him all over. Boy, was it tempting.
She blinked, realizing they were just standing there staring at each other, and that the question he’d asked still hung in the air between them. She nervously licked her lips, and her stomach clenched upon seeing how his gaze followed the movement of her tongue.
“Derrick and I broke up over eight months ago.”
He nodded slowly. “But you still have his favorite brand of beer in your refrigerator?”
What was in her refrigerator was really none of his business. She lifted her chin. “And what if I do?”
“Then I have to assume you’re hoping he’s coming back.”
Raquel narrowed her eyes.
Not hardly
. “Excuse me, but what business is it of yours, Mr. Newman? If I recall, you’re here to discuss your dog’s inability to keep all his body parts to himself.”
He smiled, and she hated admitting it, but he looked even yummier when he smiled. “His body parts?”
“Yes.”
He chuckled. “We’re discussing dogs. Animals. They live to eat and breed. My mistake, which I will admit to, is not taking that to heart and making sure Bandit was fixed. I erroneously thought that as long as I kept him away from female dogs in heat, things would be okay. My vet suggested neutering him years ago, but I didn’t. Wish I had. Like I said, my mistake.”
Good, Quest thought. They were talking about the issue that had brought him here, and not about her ex. The last man who’d probably held her, kissed her, made love to her. Some part of him was superglad she was no longer attached to anyone. Why that was of monumental significance, he didn’t know.
“Please have a seat, Mr. Newman. I’m getting a neck ache looking up at you.”
He sat down on the sofa and watched as she eased into the chair across from him. “And I think under the circumstances you can call me Quest. And I hope you don’t mind if I call you Raquel.”
She shook her head. “No, not at all.”
“Pretty name, by the way.”
“Thanks.”
Just as pretty as she was, he thought. And was that heat he felt seeping through his body from just looking at her? “I had a chance to talk to my cousin Tawny,” he decided to speak up to say. “She was dog sitting Bandit the week in question. I had gone camping with friends. Anyway, she admitted things were just as you said.”
Raquel lifted her chin, and he thought it was a strong one. Perfect for the set of lips right above it. “Glad for you to know that I don’t lie.”
He could tell that was a sore spot with her. “I wanted to verify things first, Raquel. I think, under the circumstances, most people would.”
She sighed. He was right. If the roles had been reversed, she wouldn’t have believed him, either. People were good at running all sorts of scams these days, and she knew who he was. Former NFL star. Current CEO of a chain of stores that sold sporting equipment. He was pretty well-off financially, which would make him a target. And quite possibly there were a few women out there who would stoop low enough to come after him through their dog…but she wasn’t one of them.
She placed Smookie on the floor, and the canine proceeded to stretch out beside her chair. “And since you’re here, and your cousin has verified my story…what do you want to do?”
He leaned back in his chair, smiled and said, “You tell me, Raquel. What do you want me to do?”
At that moment, she had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the issue at hand, and no matter how tempting this new topic was, she intended to keep them on track. “Well, for starters,” she said, “I talked to the vet and she thinks Smookie will probably have more than one puppy. We should split them up.”
He took another swig of his drink before saying, “You can have them all. I have no need for another dog or dogs.”
She shook her head. “Neither do I. Yorkie-Poos are popular, so we can give them away to a family or friends who might inquire. But only if they’re deserving and responsible.”
Quest agreed. “What about the cost of your dog’s medical bills? I have no problem splitting it.”
“I appreciate that. My costs will be slightly higher to include Smookie’s spaying. I don’t want to go through this again.”
He understood. Neither did he. “I already made Bandit an appointment with the vet this week. He’ll be taken care of. Is there anything else we need to cover?”
“Umm, the vet did say it would he helpful if she had a copy of Bandit’s medical records.”
He nodded. “I’ll make sure she gets them. Who’s your vet?”
She told him, watched him key the information into his iPhone and then asked, “Have you had Bandit long?”
He glanced back at her and smiled. She drew in a deep breath and tried to downplay the fact that her pulse was hammering away. “Since the day he was born. His parents are owned by a friend, a guy I played ball with.”
Quest paused. There was no need to tell her that Bandit had been there for him when he’d gotten cut from the NFL, and then during a more joyous time when his firm had made its first million. Whoever had said a dog was a man’s best friend knew what he was talking about.
He glanced down at Smookie. “How is she doing so far?”
Raquel smiled. “Other than getting fat, she’s okay. No weird cravings yet. The vet said she’ll probably deliver in a month, give or take a few days. In a way, I’m getting excited. I’ve never been a grandmother before.”
He laughed. “And I’ve never been a grandfather. We’re a little too young, don’t you think?”
She joined in his laughter. “Evidently not, thanks to our babies.”
“Yes, I guess you’re right, although they aren’t babies anymore.” He took another sip of his beer and then said, “Your business card says you’re an actress.”
“Yes, I am.” She shifted in her seat. Why did he have such a penetrating gaze, and why did watching him sip his beer turn her on? And was she imagining things, or was heat actually radiating off them both? She might be imagining it, but her thighs seemed to be quivering inside
her jeans. She had been in the presence of a good-looking man before. No biggie. Then why was her body trying to make it one?
“Have you starred in anything I might have seen?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m not that kind of actress.”
“Oh, what kind are you?”
Raquel thought over his question. There was no reason for her to answer it, since what she did for a living wasn’t any of his business. And very few people knew her profession anyway. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of what she did, but people had a tendency to pass judgment when it came to unorthodox occupations.
But for some reason, she had no problem admitting to him what had made her a rather wealthy woman. She decided to be honest about it. “I’m a phone actress.”
He lifted brow. “A phone actress?”
“Yes.”
She watched and was aware when the full scope of what she did for a living dawned on him. He looked at her and said, “Oh.”
She chuckled. He truly seemed surprised…but not scandalized. “Umm, that’s all you have to say?”
He chuckled as well. “No, sounds interesting. I guess you get to dress up in all kinds of interesting outfits.”
“No, I just have to pretend. In other words, although you get a real person to talk to, your fantasy is only playacting on my part.”
He looked crestfallen. “No sexy lingerie? No adult toys?”
“Sorry. No. Most of the time for me it’s cutoff jeans with a T-shirt, flip-flops and bad hair, while moving around the house cleaning with a Bluetooth in my ear. I own plenty of adult toys just in case someone calls me out for a description of one. It’s rather easy. All you need to know is how to act, along with a sense of humor and a good listening ear.”
“A good listening ear?”
She nodded. “Yes. Believe it or not, most men who call aren’t calling to talk sex. A number of them just want to hear a feminine voice. One who knows how to listen. They tell me how their day was at work, the trouble they’re having with their girlfriend, family or friends. They talk about their dreams, disappointments and problems.”
She paused a moment and said, “I actually talked someone out of committing suicide once.”
His brow lifted. “You did?”
“Yes, I really did,” she said, proud of herself. “That was one time my psychology degree came in handy.”
“You have a psychology degree?”
“Yes, from the University of Alabama. Instead of going into that field after college, I took a management position at a bank. Hated it. But it paid well. Then when Wall Street came tumbling down, so did my position. A girlfriend and I were in the same rut and she came up with the phone-entertainment idea.”
She shifted in her seat to a more relaxing position. For some reason, she felt comfortable talking to him. “Whitney created Companionship Plus and hired me as her first phone actress. Now she employs over two hundred other women across the country.”
“A success story.”
“So is yours.” At the lifting of his brow this time, she said, “I know you own a slew of sporting shops.”
Quest nodded and eased to his feet. “Well, I’m glad we’ve had this time to talk. I’ll get Bandit’s medical records to your vet in a few days.”
She stood as well. “Thanks. And if you run into a problem faxing them to her, you can just drop them off here,” she offered.
Quest wasn’t sure seeing her again anytime soon was such a good idea. He was attracted to her, way too attracted for his peace of mind. “It shouldn’t be a problem. If it is, I’ll let you know. When would be the best time to reach you?”
“I work from home, so I’m here the majority of the time,” she said, leading him toward the door.
Mentioning her work made him want to see her in action. “If I wanted to try my luck at calling you one night on your hotline, just to see how good an actress you are, how can I reach you?”
Raquel smiled. “Oh, I think I’m pretty good, but if you would like to see for yourself, you can call the main number.”
She rattled off the 900 number. “But keep in mind that there’s no guarantee you’ll get me. Like I said, we have over two hundred women working for the company now.” She decided not to mention anything about the Hot Wire where she had her own private number. That was reserved for exclusive clients.
“I’ll take my chances. Maybe I’ll luck out and get you.”
There was no need to tell him that that was a big maybe. “Yes, I guess there is that possibility.” Why did the thought of talking on the phone to him in an intimate conversation send rushes of heat through her body? Tempting her to slide her hand beneath his shirt to rub his chest?