Sex,Lies, and Bondage Tape

He walked over to the door on the left, knocked and entered. It opened onto a sitting room with low-slung leather sofas arranged around a marble coffee table. The room also had a wet bar, entertainment center, and a selection of faux-fur cushions and rugs draped across the chairs and floor. The décor instantly made him think of sex, and that did not lie easily with his current confusion about the set-up. He ran a finger inside his collar, which felt tight and restrictive.

At my beck and call.

That suggestive phrase in the contract and the note kept echoing around his brain, unnerving him. Why the hell had he signed something so out of the ordinary? Because you were too busy thinking about Kelly, that's why.

"The bedroom," he murmured to himself. The note had read: "when you're ready, come into the bedroom." Shit. Some mad woman wanted him in her bedroom and had him locked in, both physically and contractually. This was a big mistake. Daniel must have misunderstood what the woman was after. He really did not need this hassle now. He had enough of a woman issue to deal with, trying to track Kelly down, without adding some deluded celebrity into the mix.

Come into the bedroom.

She obviously thought...he swallowed. She obviously thought she'd hired a man for all her whims, and satisfying her in the bedroom department was a whim he had no intention of fulfilling. "I'll give Daniel hell."

Once he explained the mistake and got the hell out of here, his agent was in big trouble. Not to mention Jay. It was his so-called friend who'd got the wrong end of the stick here. But first he had to find the client and explain. He was tempted to call reception—or, better still—just kick the door down and walk out, but he was a professional. This Jennifer woman needed to understand he was a trained security man, a bodyguard and a roadie, not a fuckin' gigolo. The very thought of it made his hackles rise.

Dreading what he might find, he braced himself, stormed back through the reception area and opened the second door without knocking. The room was in darkness apart from the bed area, which was lit by fancy red lamps that seemed to be built into the headboard. They cast what was supposedly a seductive glow over black and red bed coverings. Tommy broke into a cold sweat. It looked like something from a Valentine's Day card, a heart-shaped bed with some sort of tentlike fabric hanging over it, like a harem. Thankfully, there wasn't anyone in the damn bed. He steeled himself and stepped into the room.

"Look, lady, there's been some sort of a mistake here."

He heard the sound of wicked chuckling in the darkness, then the door slammed shut behind him.

"What the fuck?" He went to turn on his heel, but not quickly enough. A hand pushed him in the small of the back. He lurched in the direction of the bed, which he cursed at as he collapsed onto it. The air whooshed from his lungs as he hit the surface. Inhaling, he got a face full of satin.

Lifting his head, swaying, he blinked and gathered himself. Then someone or some thing leapt onto his back, snatching at his arms and locking them together at the small of his back. He felt fingers wrapping around his wrists.

Scowling and cursing, Tommy pulled his hands free, clambering up the bed, trying to break loose. The thing, whatever the hell it was, grunted and leapt, snatched hold of his belt, and hung on. The more he lurched away, the more his belt tightened on his hips and the thing jerked him back. His jeans were halfway down his arse and he felt sharp nails biting into his buttocks.

Shit, not only is she a complete maniac, she's a freakin' man-eater.

He'd heard stories about stuff like this, about men hired for sex. He'd read about them in those dodgy Sunday newspapers. But Tommy Sampson wasn't going to be a victim of some demented celebrity, left tied to a bed for some maid to find, no way. Get a grip man, he told himself. She was fast, and she was strong, but she was a woman.

He rolled onto his back, flipping them both over, and snatched at her hand where it was locked on to his belt. "Excuse me, but I'm the security person here. I'm supposed to protect you from people like you."

He gripped her by the wrists and hauled her physically up and onto his chest, pulling her closer into the lamplight to get a look at her.

She wriggled and hissed, her body sleek and lissome as a cat being held against its will, thick, dark hair flashing across her face and hiding her features. "Let me go," she de

manded.

He opened his mouth to deny her, and then got a glimpse of her face, froze and stared. "Kelly?"

She glared back at him, eyes narrowed and mouth pursed as if she was annoyed he'd thwarted her attack.

Despite his confusion, he broke into a grin. He couldn't help it. It was Kelly, it was really her. And she was looking really sexy in the hazy red light, dressed in some sort of fancy black underwear beneath a robe. The entire outfit was see-through, which made it very hard to concentrate on anything other than what was under it.

She wriggled free. "Yes, Kelly. Get used to it. You're here for the night, Buddy. I bought your time and you're all mine."

"You're Jennifer Sandringham?"

"Jennifer Sandringham is my great aunt, a blue- haired spinster from Northampton who spends most of her days complaining to the council about local affairs. I borrowed her name. It's me you have to answer to." She smiled then, and it was thoroughly bad.

The pulse in his groin started to beat hard. "I knew something wasn't right about this setup."

"And you walked right into it."

He lifted his eyebrows at her, grinning. "You went to a hell of a lot of trouble. You should have said you wanted another round. I'd have been happy to oblige."

She glared at him, as if annoyed. "I would have done, if you hadn't abandoned me in a hotel room."

His smile faded. She was angry. "I didn't abandon you. I mean, I did, but that's what I thought you wanted. I thought you were just out for a one-nighter. I thought you were after Clayton, that I was second choice."