Play Hard to Get

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Staring at her unfamiliar image in the mirror was both exciting and shocking. Naomi Parker had never been blond, sultry, a walking s*x kitten—and without glasses. But that was in fact the image before her now. It gave her a thrill. She was living on the edge, becoming someone she was born to be deep down, playing a part that was dangerous but would solidify Naomi for who she really was, a rockstar journalist who would uncover anything and everything that no one else could.

Just as quickly as the thought excited her, it worried her, because unfortunately her parents, Robert and Susan, and her sisters had no idea what she’d gotten herself into. If they found out this side of her that she hid from everyone, well, let’s just say she hated to think what their response would be—after the shock wore off, that is. Something close to “Over my dead body” or “Hell no,” with a dash of “What were you thinking?” and, to finish it off, “How do we get her out of this mess so she’ll again be the daughter we raised her to be?”

To Naomi, though, it wasn’t a mess or a pending disaster. She was chasing the story of a lifetime, a story no one else would touch, about a man with a sordid past. A monster, according to the people of Casper, Wyoming, with his bad attitude, dangerous good looks, linebacker build, and eyes that could stop a woman cold. Not that she knew what that meant, but Naomi had every intention of exposing Cameron Donnelly for the lying, cheating fraud he was, for an abuser of power who’d dominated the local headlines just one year earlier. He was all everyone could talk about and had become the man you didn’t want to be associated with.

How she was going to do that was still forming in her mind, but she could feel the sizzle of this new Naomi—oops, or rather, Julie, with her bleached hair, colored contact lenses making her blue eyes even bluer, heavy shadow and thick mascara that made them pop, and a C-cup push-up bra providing cleavage and a bold display of her assets, something she’d never have dared show anyone, under a barely decent slimming silky tank and indecently short skirt with four-inch spike heels.

Yes, it was perfect, exactly the kind of woman that would have Cameron drooling, chasing her down, and spilling all his secrets. She heard the toilet flush and took in the stall door that opened. The woman had short dark hair, a mass of curls, a short knit skirt that appeared painted on, spike heels, and a skintight tank showing her generous bust. Yes, she definitely fit in.

“I swear these shoes are going to be the end of me, but the guys love ’em. Gets me those big tips, so I guess in the end it’s worth it, although not sure my feet think the same.” She had a deep, husky voice and was wiping a dark smudge under her eye from her thick mascara. Then she turned, giving Naomi a view of her curvy body and the way the skirt eased over her rounded butt and mile-long legs. The woman didn’t just have a great figure; she had muscle and was perfectly toned. She winked at Naomi. “You one of the new girls?”

It took her a minute as she started to sweat. “Hoping to be. I’m here to meet with Pete. Although I don’t have a lot of experience waiting tables, I really need the work,” she said, cringing, realizing she may have gone a little overboard. She hoped it didn’t sound too desperate.

The woman rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “You should fit right in. Not to worry. It’s about the looks, honey. Everything else can be taught.” She gestured to Naomi’s getup. “Yup, one look at you and the interview will be over.” She leaned in the mirror again, dragging a deep red painted nail under her eye as if there was something there. “Just flash him a smile, and if you need to, tell him you’ve waited tables before over in Rock Springs. Can’t see it getting that far, though. Pete’s about the looks and whether you’ve got the heat and can sell it. Just let him get an eyeful of that cleavage and you’ll be a shoe in.”

She tapped the counter. “Just a word of advice, hon: If you really want to work here, the pay isn’t great. If that’s what you’re counting on, go get a job at Smitty’s family restaurant down the road. Here it’s about the tips, which are exceptional, but it comes at a cost. The men providing said tips are pigs coming in off the rigs and are as free with their hands as they are with their wallets. As long as you understand that, you’ll do just fine. Taffy is my name,” she said, leaning against the counter. Of course she was waiting for something from Naomi.

“Julie,” she spat out, feeling her heart kick up from the lie that had begun. She should have put more thought into it. Julie what? Her hands were sweaty. Her adrenaline surged.

“Nice to meet you, Julie. Hope you get the job,” Taffy said before leaving.

Naomi took one last look in the mirror, lifted the strap of her small clutch over her shoulder, and said, “Show time.”

She’d practiced walking in these spike heels for days, but she teetered a second as she took a step. Maybe getting the job wouldn’t be the challenge; it would be staying upright in these ridiculously high shoes.

The music was pulsing even through the closed door of the back office. The room was ordinary, with an old scratched-up desk, a small steel safe in the corner, and an old four-drawer file cabinet. Turned out the man was named Dean, not Pete. The only thing she’d figured out was that he used to play sports, either a former boxer or hockey player, she couldn’t remember which he’d said when she’d first stumbled in, reeling at the change in script. She’d done her homework on Pete and was thrown. Thinking on her feet wasn’t really her strong suit. That was her sister Scarlett, who was a pain in the ass but had a skill Naomi coveted.

“So you’ve worked for Mr. Donnelly for how long?” Naomi said.

Dean didn’t look up from where he rested his forearms on the desk, a pen in hand, writing something in a notebook. It was odd. He set the pen down and leaned back in the heavily padded older chair. It squeaked. His face was free of emotion and hard. Yikes!

“Why is it that I’m starting to feel as if I’m the one being interviewed?” He was studying her, and she didn’t have a clue whether he was amused or ready to tell her to get lost.

She swallowed. Things were fast spiraling to the edge of a precipice where one of two things would happen: The opportunity she’d only just stepped into would be gone or, by some miracle, she’d get a pass. Unfortunately, she realized it would likely be the former, and that had her mind reeling, grasping at anything instead of remaining calm so she could nail this interview.

“Sorry, just curious. Always have been,” she said. “Guess it’s one of my faults. I tend to ask questions when nervous.” She was sitting ramrod straight, her chest out, and sweat was dripping from her underarms. She leaned forward, going right to plan C, giving him an eyeful. He didn’t seem interested at all. It was as if he was completely unaffected by her. He had to be a monk, or maybe it was the fact that Naomi didn’t have a clue how to entice a guy. None of this was the reaction she’d expected. She was completely out of her element. She was drowning and sinking fast.

He lifted his pen again, and she could see the neat penmanship from where she sat. Odd for a guy to be focused on so much detail. “So you’ve waited tables in Rock Creek, where?” Direct and to the point.

She felt her throat close up and tried to think of all the places in Rock Creek, a place she’d been to only a handful of times. She couldn’t remember the name of one damn place. “Bottoms Up,” she finally said, recalling the roadside sign of a half-naked country gal with cutoffs that showed off more of her rounded ass than they covered. She was proud of herself and smiled brightly as she wrapped her hands over her crossed legs, just barely stopping herself from batting her lashes.

The man looked up. He had blue eyes and hair so short it was almost buzzed. This time he smiled. His eyes danced, and her stomach knotted, because something wasn’t right. “Yeah?” He actually laughed, controlled and rough, and she could feel her jaw tighten as he flicked the pen in his fingers and leaned back again, the smile now gone. “So when exactly was this?” He clicked the pen a couple more times, and her eyes went right there.

She was in a panic, in shock, and for a minute she thought she might puke from her nerves as she searched her mind for something, anything. “Two, three months ago.” Her voice squeaked, completely rattled now. “I was at a small coffeehouse before that…”

His gaze was so deep. “Why is it that I think you’re trying to blow smoke up my ass? I know everyone who works and has worked at Bottoms Up for the last five years, and, sweetheart, that ain’t you.” He wasn’t smiling now, and his eyes had a look that said she was f*****g with the wrong guy. “Coming in here and wasting my time by lying through your teeth to get a job, I ain’t got time for that kind of bullshit.” He gestured with his pen to a sign hammered to the wall, a drawing of a stickman in a hangman’s noose. Below was written in red, What happens to liars!

It was something she’d never seen before, and her face flamed as she glanced back to him, wide eyed, seeing him organized and stacking papers into a pile, knowing he was so done with her.

“Word of advice,” he said. “If you’re going to lie, at least do your f*****g homework and don’t pick a business owned by Mr. Donnelly.” He then winked, set his pen down, and lifted both hands, putting his fingers together. It was a move she found intimidating. Oh, good Lord, she was so screwed. Now what?

“Okay, I’m sorry, I lied. The problem is that I’ve never waited a table before in my life, unless you count dinner at my parents’, where I clear dirty dishes and put food on the table, which I’ve done countless times.” She uncrossed her legs and slid to the edge of the chair, her hands on the edge of the desk as desperation now threatened to strangle her. “I just really need this job and know places won’t hire unless you have experience, but how am I supposed to get experience if you won’t give me a chance? Please.” Her voice squeaked. She was considering getting down on her knees and begging, anything to get him to look at her or at least give her one more chance, feeling the door closing on any chance of getting close to Cameron Donnelly. The man was untouchable, and the opening was closing before her. She’d never get another shot.

No such luck. The man was made of steel as if he didn’t have an ounce of compassion for anyone. In fact, he was shaking his head, his expression set, as he started to lean forward to stand up. Next she knew, she’d be dismissed and the door would slam shut in her face.

Then the door at her back opened, and Cameron Donnelly, six foot two, with lean muscle, impeccably groomed, and better looking in person, if that was possible, stepped in. It was one of those moments where everything happened at once. He took in the room with his shrewd gaze, wondering yet knowing at the same time. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and the top buttons of his crisp white dress shirt were undone. He oozed something that had Naomi struggling to take a breath. How was it possible a man could affect her this way? Then she realized as she beamed up at him that he hadn’t given her a second glance.

“I need you over in Laramie tomorrow,” he said. “Handle the partners meeting for me. Make sure no issues arise this time.” He pulled keys from the desk drawer and lifted a suit jacket she hadn’t seen hanging from a hook on the wall. It was black and tailored and fit him like a glove. He still hadn’t looked her way, not a glance, nothing, not an acknowledgement that she existed. Odd, considering how hot she looked. That definitely didn’t help her confidence.

“Just finishing here now so I can be on my way…” Dean said. He lifted his wrist, glancing at his watch. “I’d say fifteen, tops.”

“The situation’s been handled?” Cameron was pulling at his cuffs.

Both men were carrying on as if she didn’t even exist. It was so cryptic, and she wished she’d thought to record this. Her cell phone was slipped in her handbag, and it would be so easy to feign a call and turn it on. Then both men were staring at her. Cameron cleared his throat, not a smile, nothing. It really had a way of making a girl feel she wasn’t wanted.

Dean stood up. The man was tall, handsome in a hard sort of way but not even close to oozing the attraction that seemed to make up Cameron Donnelly. No wonder women flocked to him. Fell prey to him.

“Thank you for coming, Miss….” Dean didn’t offer his hand, and she knew in that panicked second she was being dismissed.

“Parker, Julie Parker. Please, I know I shouldn’t have said I had experience and that I worked at a place I haven’t, but I swear if you give me a chance, you won’t regret it. I’m a quick learner, and I’ll work hard.”

Cameron glanced once to Dean and said only “You got this?” Then he started to the door.

This was going from bad to worse, and she had about half a second, she figured, before her opportunity was gone forever. She didn’t think, she reacted. She jumped from the chair, swaying on those ridiculous heels and reaching out. She touched his arm, feeling the expensive dark cloth of his suit jacket. His eyes went to her hand, and she felt him flinch from her touch—something else she hadn’t expected. He didn’t look at her until she pulled her hand away. His eyes were green, an odd shade, and there was nothing friendly there. He was hard, unforgiving, alpha, and she was so screwed.

“Please, Mr. Donnelly, give me a chance. I promise you will not regret this. A week. One week! One day! And then if I don’t show you I can do a good job, you can let me go.” She was usually more convincing, but he was giving her nothing.

He glanced over her head to Dean, and they exchanged a look.

“She lied,” Dean said. “Was just about to explain the policy.” He gestured again to the homemade sign.

Cameron was looking straight through her as if she didn’t exist. “I don’t like liars and don’t want the kind of trouble that always comes with a liar.” He gestured to the open door and started to step away.

This was now at the stage where she was so f*****g screwed that pride and dignity didn’t have a place anymore. “I get it, and I never planned to come in and lie and say I had experience, but I was also expecting to be interviewed by Pete, who would have been more interested in how I looked and how much skin I showed. My experience wouldn’t have been something that mattered… I’m not a liar, I don’t lie, but I really need this job.” She was rambling, and her face was burning under all the caked-on makeup that made her eyes itch. She wondered for a moment whether they could see through some of her half-truths, her lies, and all the bullshit she was tossing out to turn the tables so this would go her way.

Cameron still hadn’t moved. He was watching her, and she didn’t have a f*****g clue what the hell he was thinking. That had the sweat beading between her shoulder blades.

“One day then, please,” she said. “I beg you, give me a chance. I swear I’m a hard worker. You won’t regret it.”

The silence continued. It was only her panicked breath she could hear. She watched as Cameron wiped his face, and all that she could think was that he appeared tired. She didn’t have a clue whether she’d gotten through to him. Maybe he’d have her thrown out now with a warning never to come back.

“Don’t do it,” she heard Dean say from behind her just as Cameron stepped out the door.

He then turned back to them, his hand in the air, his eyes closed a second before looking over to Dean. “Give her the job, but if she pulls anything, get rid of her.” Then he was gone without looking her way or giving her anything to say, “Okay, I see you.”

Lies, deception, greed. Yes, she wasn’t being honest, but then, he was all of that and more. He deserved to be exposed, and Naomi Parker had no doubt now that she’d be able to scrape together the story that would officially take Cameron Donnelly down.