So she wasn't a thief. But why had she—Abbey—left without being paid?
It didn't make sense. In fact, none of this made sense, including his own behavior. He was not the sort of man who had sex with strange women. Especially ones he had to pay.
Not that she'd taken any money.
Why hadn't she? Maybe she was prepaid. Perhaps someone had sent her to him and already given her money in advance.
But who? He didn't know anyone in Melbourne and none of his Sydney friends would get a kick out of that kind of joke.
None of them would dare.
Nick drew in a deep breath and lay on the bed again. He could still smell her on the sheets. The sweet, floral scent of expensive perfume and woman. All woman, as he recalled. Damn, she'd felt good. Soft, succulent, sexy. The sort of woman he used to go for in his wilder days —gorgeous, great br**sts, long legs, hair a man could get lost in.
That was over ten years ago. His tastes had mellowed since then. In recent times he preferred the elegant, the sophisticated. A woman who'd gone to the right school and spent her days lunching with friends and looked good on his arm at corporate functions.
Lately, however, work had taken over completely, and even that sort of woman had failed to entice him away from the office for a night out.
But that was how he wanted it. Work was far more satisfying and rewarding than taking some well-bred bimbo out to an expensive restaurant that served a few pieces of lettuce elegantly arranged on a plate and called it dinner, then charged him a fortune for it. Work didn't complain and the conversation was better.
No, there hadn't been a woman he'd wanted to take out for a very long time.
Not that they hadn't tried to take him out. But he always refused. There was too much work to do, especially since he'd taken over Software Solutions. Late nights, early mornings—including weekends—left little time for dates.
Which probably explained why he slept with that girl tonight. Too much bottled-up stress and sexual energy that needed to be released. That must be it. He'd just needed to get primal for awhile and feel a woman beneath him after all these months of celibacy and work.
And how she'd felt beneath him—hot, ready like a firecracker about to go off, and smooth. Those ripe, pink ni**les that he could still taste on his tongue, and those moist lips, parting, throbbing, wanting him.
Like he'd wanted her.
Nick groaned and rolled over, hoping to smother the erection that rose again.
Damn, why had she left while he was asleep? If she'd just stayed around, lain with him on the bed, they could be in the middle of round two by now. He could've gotten hotel management to send up condoms. They could've done it properly this time—he could've entered her, felt her tight wetness sucking him in...
Nick groaned and got up. He tried to dismiss the image of Abbey's naked body from his mind lest he do something he hadn't done since he was a teenager.
Abbey. He didn't even know her last name. He didn't even know why she was there. She'd called him Damien Vane, which meant she didn't know who he really was. Vane, his VP of Marketing who was supposed to be on this trip but had skipped town at the last minute and was probably drunk with some whore somewhere...
Vane! The woman was meant for Vane not him! Someone who knew Vane's penchant for loose, sexy women and someone who didn't mind picking up the tab.
Or maybe Vane was a regular at a local brothel whenever he was in Melbourne. Somewhere where they knew him well enough and he had a running tab. Maybe he organized this little rendezvous in advance. Perhaps the new girl, not having met Vane before, just assumed Nick was him.
For some reason he couldn't quite fathom, it galled him to think that the hot little woman with the killer legs and delicious br**sts was meant for someone else. Someone who'd have no appreciation of her finer points—her bright blue eyes, her masses of chestnut hair and her slightly upturned nose.
Nick shook his head, annoyed at himself. What was he thinking? You aren't supposed to appreciate the finer points of a woman like that.
He sighed. He couldn't believe he'd slept with a hooker.
He glanced at the clock beside the bed. Two AM. He'd best get some sleep. Tomorrow was the first day of the seminar and he had to be in good shape for the presentation. He had all of Vane's notes plus his laptop and he knew everything about the product, probably more than Vane did, thanks to some late nights and thorough briefing over the past few days. He was ready for this. He had to be. The future of Software Solutions, his investment, was riding on it.
Trouble was, how could he sleep with Abbey's taste still on his lips and her face still in his mind?
***
"What do you mean you didn't get it?" Abbey didn't know whether to kill Lucy or hug her.
"The camera's broken." Lucy held up a small, black object that was supposed to be attached to the large camera that stood on a tripod at the window. She shrugged thin, bare shoulders. "Sorry. I sort of dropped it when I was setting up."
"Sorry! You're sorry! I just slept with a complete stranger so you could get those shots and you tell me the damn thing's broken!" Abbey drew in a deep breath and placed both hands on her hips.
Lucy grinned, lighting up her pretty face.
"I knew you slept with him! That's fantastic! He was gorgeous." She hugged her friend. "So the broken camera isn't such a bad thing after all—at least now you'll get to do it all over again."
Abbey laughed despite herself. Trust Lucy to look at it like that. Always the wild one, she could pick up a guy in a bar, sleep with him that night, then never call him again. And not feel bad about it. Abbey couldn't.
Until tonight.
Lucy and Abbey went back a long way. They'd become instant friends when they met at university over ten years ago. Lucy had graduated and joined the police force since she could think of nothing better to do. A year later, she'd quit, stifled by the protocol and paperwork. She'd taken on odd jobs after that, and it was while working in a dry cleaning store that she'd got her big break.
Her boss suspected her husband was cheating on her but he was clever and proving it was difficult. So instead of letting it go on, Lucy decided to test his fidelity without her boss knowing the favor she was doing her. She asked a friend to photograph her having sex with the man. She gave the photos to her boss, but instead of dumping him, the woman fired Lucy for sleeping with her husband.
It didn't matter because Lucy had already realized she could make better money taking photos of cheating husbands in compromising positions than working in a dry cleaning store. So she got her private investigator's license, got herself an office and placed some ads in newspapers and magazines. The calls had trickled in ever since. The only modification she made was to hire someone else to get the men in compromising positions while she took the photos.