After a long moment, Kat sighed. “Fine, a week, but we do it my way. That means if I want to go out to dinner, we go. If I want to party, we party. If I want you to come to the Pics and Pans awards with me, you come.”

  Bonita shook her head. “Not a good idea.”

  “Who cares? My fans don’t expect me to have good ideas. They want me to be entertaining, to look beautiful and show them a good time. I can do that with you,” Kat wheedled. “C’mon, don’t you want to go?”

  “Of course I want to go. I just don’t think now is a good time for you to show up with a woman on your arm. Your manager is right. People are going to see that picture in the paper. For once in your life, lay low.”

  “Not my style.” Kat reared up on one elbow. “Do we have an agreement?”

  Bonita trapped a yawn in her throat. The three-hour time difference was catching up with her. She could barely keep her eyes open. What was the harm? She’d agree to the awards ceremony and talk Kat out of everything else when she had more energy. “Yes, Kat.”

  “Good.” Kat gave her a lingering kiss on the lips. “You’ll need a dress. A hot dress. I’m wearing red, naturally. You need something white, but not boring. Sequins, spangles, hmm. Lace? No, too Gaga. We’re going for Gwyneth Paltrow plays a guest appearance on Mistresses. Angelic and charming, but slutty. It’ll be great publicity for Proprietors. My character was a lesbian—quite a stretch for me, as you can imagine.”

  Bonita groaned, and Kat laughed. “Somebody is going to check out your background, Beauty. You ready for that?”

  Bonita nodded faintly. “How do you think that will go?”

  “Come Again isn’t going to make you look like an angel, but we’ll think of something. Is Johnny going to keep your secrets if somebody finds him?”

  “I think so.” She had nothing to hide, but she didn’t want to reflect badly on Kat. “How did you get him to talk?”

  “How do you think?”

  “You did not.”

  “You bet I did. His girlfriend, too. How else was I going to learn to top? They were very thorough.”

  Bonita blinked, catapulted into arousal by the idea of Destiny and Johnny giving BDSM lessons to Kat. “I wish I could have been a fly on the wall that night.”

  “More like that week. Now do you regret leaving town last summer?”

  Bonita changed the subject. “How much is this good-girl dress for the awards ceremony going to cost me?”

  She felt Kat shake her head. “My treat. You aren’t paying for a thing. While you’re with me, I’m taking care of you.”

  Bonita stiffened. “I’m a submissive, not a doormat. I don’t need you to buy me a dress. Come Again does very well, you know.”

  “Yes, dear, but I’m still buying the dress. Speaking of Come Again, who’s taking care of the shop?”

  “Crystal and her boyfriend.” She yawned again, this time for real.

  “You poor thing.” Kat pulled Bonita to her feet. “Bedtime.”

  “Narnia?” Bonita said sleepily against Kat’s mouth.

  “No, darling. Come to my bed. I’ll lock the door.”

  Bonita was too tired to protest. She took the hand that Kat held out to her and followed her out of the room.

  To bed. With Kat. Oh, God.

  Chapter Three

  Fucking Kat.

  Herb woke up the next morning in the middle of the same thought that had kept him awake last night. He scrubbed his fist across his scalp. That picture had already gone viral on the Internet. It would be picked up by all the major magazines and splashed across every checkout line and kiosk by tomorrow night at the latest. He was sure of that.

  He’d worked his ass off to make Kat a star. She’d still be serving drinks in that second-rate titty bar if he hadn’t found her. Even too much makeup and the worst haircut Herb had ever seen couldn’t disguise the fact that Kat was a stunner. It wasn’t even her looks, although long hair, long legs and world-class tits would never go out of style.

  Kat had a lawless look in her eye, if you could get your eyes up that high. She didn’t have an inhibited bone in her body. Her face showed more emotion in ten minutes than most people experienced in a week. It was exciting to watch her. Every eye in that seedy bar had been glued to Kat, and Herb could tell it was giving the manager ideas. The customers were supposed to be watching the action on stage, not drooling over a cocktail waitress. A couple more weeks and Kat would have been riding the pole herself. Then, as now, she had ambition, but she needed direction.

  He’d been getting her work for twelve years. First print ads, then commercials, a couple of TV spots, and then they’d hit the big time. A movie. Not a great one. He still thought of it fondly, but Kat denied ever making it and probably would until the day she died. Stubborn Kat.

  He’d spent years hustling for her, lying for her, believing in her, tolerating her occasionally outrageous demands, covering up indiscretions large and small. If he hadn’t known her so well, her mercurial moods, her tremendous incapacity for boredom, her inability to commit to anyone but herself, he might actually be hurt by her offer to cut him loose. Well, he wasn’t going to help her destroy the career he’d created. If Kat wouldn’t do the sensible thing and take a squeaky-clean date to the Pics and Pans and smile sweetly for every camera pointed in her direction, Herb would have to do it for her.

  He searched through his cell for a number he might have dialed once.

  Bingo.

  Kat’s body double had a stake in this, too. She was next on the list of people out of work if Kat’s career tanked. She answered on the second ring.

  “Cindy? Herb Benson. How ya doin’? Good. Listen, I’ve got a little favor to ask you—”

  Damage-control mode. All it would take was a little fast work, and by next week this would be so over. Why pay attention to reality when you have publicity?

  After all, this was Hollywood.

  “I think the diamonds are a bit much.” Bonita fingered her neck uncertainly. There had to be a hundred carats in the diamond collar that surrounded her throat.

  “It’s just right. Stop fidgeting. Anyway, I like the symbolism. Our little secret, right?”

  Bonita hadn’t thought about that. She grew wet under the minuscule white lace thong Kat had picked out for her to wear beneath her dress. Her gown was white, as Kat had promised, but under the incandescent stage lighting in Kat’s bathroom, it glittered. The shiny material was shot through with metallic rainbows, and everywhere the eye came to rest sparkled with silver sequins and delicate glass beads. The thin straps left her pale shoulders bare and showed a hint of cleavage. Silk slid over her breasts, belly and thighs like a cool waterfall. The slit up the back stopped at the knee, skirting the edge of decency, yet giving her plenty of room to maneuver in her slightly too-high, definitely too-expensive shoes.

  Kat’s dress made no attempt to be decent. It was fire-engine red and screamed, “Look at me!” It showed her breasts nearly to the nipple. In fact, Bonita was sure if Kat turned around too quickly, one of her boobs would pop right out of the nonexistent side of the dress. It was short, too, and Bonita wondered how she would manage to sit down without displaying her panties…if she was wearing any.

  Oh, God, that thought made her even wetter. Bonita closed her eyes, trying to clamp down on the insistent ache building between her thighs. When she opened them, Kat was staring at her with a wicked smile on her glossy red lips.

  Bonita glanced into the mirror at the image of them together. The makeup artist, hairdresser and Kat’s personal stylist had just left. It was a far cry from the last time they had gotten ready for a date together. Bonita and Kat had spent hours before the high school prom primping, plucking and painting in front of the three-by-three mirror in Kat’s upstairs bathroom. The effects they had achieved then couldn’t hold a candle to what Kat’s team had wrought upon them tonight. Bonita stared into the mirror in disbelieving wonder.

  “It won’t look so extreme under the lights,” Kat reassured her.

  “I didn’t know I could look this good.”

  Kat’s gaze swept over her, and she frowned. “Something’s not quite…hmm.”

  Kat stood behind her, looking over her shoulder into the wall-sized mirror, examining every detail of Bonita’s appearance, from the smooth, restrained up-do that was all Grace Kelly, down the silver slide of her sparkling dress, to the beaded straps that surrounded her ankles. Kat’s hands found Bonita’s hip bones under the smooth fabric of her dress and pulled her backward into the curve of her body.

  “Stop—you’ll mess me up.”

  “I’m going to do more than that,” Kat murmured into Bonita’s ear. “Remember when we used to sneak off and see how fast we could make it happen? I think the record was two minutes.” Kat’s fingers found her nipples through the fabric and pinched. She cupped Bonita’s breast with one hand and used the other to hit the intercom button on the wall. “Mrs. Clarke? Could you have someone bring us some champagne, please? Kristal. Thank you.”

  Bonita eyed Kat suspiciously.

  “Get ready, Beauty. Get set. Go.” Kat gently dragged Bonita’s dress above her thighs. “Hold this, or I will mess you up. That would be a shame.”

  Bonita obeyed, clutching the slippery material around her waist. Her thighs parted involuntarily, and she arched her back. Kat’s fingers plucked the strings at Bonita’s hips, flirted with the pretty white lace that fluted the tops of her buttocks, and skated over her ass. She nudged the thong aside with one finger and probed between Bonita’s thighs, easily finding the wetness pooling there.

  Kat slid one long finger into Bonita’s pussy from behind, making her groan. Her other hand palmed the front of Bonita’s sex beneath her underwear. Kat’s fingertips unerringly found Bonita’s clit and trapped it between her thumb and two fingers. She flicked it in a remembered rhythm, and Bonita responded instantly, soaking her fingers.

  Kat slid a second finger, then a third inside her, increasing the pressure. The heel of her palm pressed against Bonita’s sensitive ass, and her fingers were relentless, fluttering and flicking incessantly. Bonita couldn’t look away from the scene in the mirror. She was perched atop her heels, her dress clutched around her waist, her eyes heavy-lidded and slumberous. Kat’s gaze roved over her hungrily, claiming her from her bright eyes and flushed cheeks to her splayed thighs.

  “Come now.” Kat drove her on. “Do it. I’m not going to stop. I don’t care who walks in.”

  It was true. Kat didn’t. At this moment, neither did Bonita. She pumped her hips against Kat’s hands and fought to reach her peak. Maddeningly, Kat’s fingers slowed. Bonita nearly sobbed, straining, meeting Kat’s determined gaze in the mirror. “Who do you belong to, Beauty?”

  Kat had wrung the admission from her every time they made love this week, and it was easier to give each time. The week had flown by, filled with conversation, laughter and sex: exactly what Bonita had craved. Despite Kat’s threats, this was their first public appearance, and as they dressed, Bonita had guiltily wished it was a real date. She wanted the world to see Kat’s claim on her. It was Saturday night, and she was leaving Monday morning. Was it so wrong to pretend tonight? The world would only see two friends out on the town. What was the harm if she privately pretended to be more?

  She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, “Kat. I belong to you.”

  An orgasm rocked through her. She struggled not to scream as Kat’s fingers drove her higher. She knew from experience Kat wouldn’t let her come down until she was damn good and ready, and all Bonita could do was grit her teeth and try not to fall off her high heels. Distantly, over the sound of the roaring in her ears, she heard a door open, and Kat’s fingers withdrew so quickly she stumbled against the vanity. Kat tugged her panties into place with a stinging snap just as a discreet knock sounded on the bathroom door.

  “Champagne, Ms. St. James,” a male voice called from the bedroom.

  “Thank you,” Kat called gaily back.

  Bonita twitched the folds of her dress back into place and tried to clear her vision of spots.

  “Look in the mirror.”

  Bonita obeyed. Her eyes were bright. Her lips were plump, and her hard nipples were visible through her demure dress.

  “See? Now you look perfect,” Kat said, washing her hands.

  Bonita raised an eyebrow. “Would you like to look perfect, too?”

  Kat winked. “I always look perfect.”

  The claim would have been outrageous if it hadn’t been true. As Bonita stared, Kat seemed to grow slightly taller. All the light in the room found her and worshipped her. Her hair curled around her proud shoulders in spectacular abandon. Every inch of her body was lean, tan and toned, which wasn’t fair because, as far as Bonita knew, she hadn’t worked out once this week—nor had they left the house.

  A slow, teasing smile curved Kat’s glossy lips. “Ready for your date with a movie star?”

  She nodded, slightly dazed at the transition that had taken place before her eyes. When it was just the two of them, it was easy to forget she wasn’t the only one in love with Kat. America also loved her, and Kat gloried in the admiration. Bonita ignored the sinking feeling in her chest, the one that reminded her she was leaving in two days. She wasn’t going to think about it—not tonight.

  The sinking feeling intensified, dragging her down, until Kat caught her hand and tugged. Joy replaced dread as their bodies touched, curves and bones instantly aligning. Kat’s hands moved over Bonita’s back, pressing her closer, erasing every space between them. She gasped as Kat caressed the diamond collar at her throat.

  “We’re going to play our game when we get home tonight.” Kat stepped back until the only connection between them was her finger stroking the diamonds at Bonita’s throat. Her mouth watered, her pussy throbbed and her breasts felt swollen to the point of pain. Her mind cleared, going blank. If Kat hadn’t hooked a gentle finger under the collar, she would have fallen to her knees.

  Her legs trembled as Kat steered her out the door. “Let’s not waste the champagne.”

  From the minute her driver had dropped them off at Hollywood and Highland, Kat had been going nuts. Bonita looked stunning in her dress—sexy and smooth, every hair in place, every smile correct. Her dress was elegant, but Kat knew how little Bonita was wearing beneath it. She had a delicious visual memory from the last few minutes they had spent in the bathroom, and if they had been alone, she would have made Bonita spread her legs for her again.

  But they weren’t alone.

  They were on national television, and in effect, they were performing, playing the role of platonic childhood friends having a girls’ night out. It was maddening.

  Bonita played the Hollywood social game as if she had been born to it, polite and witty, utterly convincing in her role of ingénue. She had completely charmed everyone she met, and the admiring glances she received from men and women were pushing Kat to the edge. No way were they going to the after-party at Canter’s Deli. When she found her arm around Bonita’s waist for the third time, she knew they had to get out of here.

  Fast.

  She didn’t want to admit it, but Herbie was right. She couldn’t do this. Not in public.

  “Let’s go.” She rose to her feet.

  Bonita tugged her back down. “Nope.”

  Kat frowned. “Are you having a good time?”

  “I’m bored stiff, but we can’t leave in the middle.”

  “Rule follower.” Kat got to her feet again. “Let’s get a drink. Excuse us,” she said to Marianna, her Proprietors costar, who gave her a knowing smirk and flashed Bonita a thumbs-up. Unease rippled through Kat, but it was too late to turn back. Might as well brazen it out. She’d planned to steer Bonita out the nearest exit, but maybe they should just get a drink and return to their seats. Marianna was notorious for spreading rumors.

  She glanced back at Bonita, who was making nice with everyone they passed. Henry Cavill didn’t make quite enough room in the aisle, and Bonita stumbled over his foot. His appreciative expression as he steadied her made Kat wonder if he’d done it on purpose, and she stifled a growl. Enough is enough. They were getting out of here before she did something she might regret, like tell Cavill Bonita was taken—by her—always had been and always would be.

  The idea filled her with delight, and suddenly she knew exactly how they would spend the rest of the night. An exultant laugh broke free from her throat as they burst into the lobby.

  “What are you so happy about?” Bonita asked.

  “It’s showtime, Beauty. We’re going home.” She texted her driver to pick them up, watching Bonita fidget out of the corner of her eye. She hid a grin. Bonita had admitted BDSM had been the last of the tools she’d used to create distance between them, but it was turning out to be a hell of a turn-on for them both. Bonita was so responsive, and Kat loved being in control.

  Tonight, she was going to add a twist to their play. They’d spent plenty of time in her closet dungeon this week, reacquainting themselves with each other’s bodies and experimenting with the toys and equipment Kat had purchased. Knowing Bonita was three years ahead of her in kink made Kat eager to catch up.

  Her black Mercedes SUV pulled up to the curb, and she opened the door for Bonita before the driver could get out of the truck. They settled into the backseat, side by side. She raised the privacy screen, ignored Bonita’s questioning glance and pulled up the contacts on her phone, smiling as she placed a call. It was answered on the first ring. “Yes, Ms. St. James? I suppose you want a late-night snack? There are chocolate-dipped strawberries in the refrigerator, and I stocked the cupboard with Ms. Pritchard’s favorite snacks. Would you like me to—”

  “Take the weekend off, Mrs. Clarke. Use my credit card and go anywhere you want. And if there is any maintenance scheduled, cancel it. No gardeners, no pool boys, no chefs, no housekeeping, no nothing. Keep the guards, though. I don’t want to be disturbed this weekend.”

  “The house will be empty by the time you get home.”

 

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