Mr undeniable, p.1
Mr. Undeniable, page 1
Mr. Undeniable
One Scorching Summer, Volume 3
Lori Wilde
Published by Lori Wilde, 2023.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
MR. UNDENIABLE
First edition. April 11, 2023.
Copyright © 2023 Lori Wilde.
ISBN: 979-8215894552
Written by Lori Wilde.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Sign up for Lori Wilde's Mailing List
Further Reading: Montana Blaze
Also By Lori Wilde
Chapter 1
Sex had never looked so intriguing...
Or so scary.
Which was precisely the point. Jorgina Gerard needed to step far outside her comfort zone and get a life.
She closed the glossy brochure, featuring Eros Airlines and Fantasy Resort Erotic Vacation packages, and fanned herself, alarmed that her body was suddenly aroused at, of all places, the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport ticket kiosk. Mentally, she shook herself. What was the matter with her?
Um, maybe it was because she hadn’t had sex since her boyfriend dumped her six months ago.
Cringing, Jorgie bit down on her bottom lip.
All around her there was bustling activity as business travelers rolled their carry-on bags toward the taxi stands, lovers reunited with heartfelt hugs, harried moms and dads herded ebullient children from the enticing dangers of escalators and baggage carousels.
What was she doing? Why had she let her best friend since kindergarten, Avery Bodel, talk her into this? Was she insane? Embarking on an exotic itinerary dubbed with the provocative title Make Love Like a Courtesan.
She didn’t need sex lessons. She was twenty-five. She’d been in a long-term relationship and... and...
And as Brian had walked out the door, he’d tossed over his shoulder. “You’re just too damned boring in the bed, Jorgina. Too conventional by half. I need variety, excitement, danger...”
Danger?
Jorgie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Maybe she wasn’t the problem, maybe it was Brian and if Brian was the problem, then she didn’t need to be here, right? She just needed to find some guy who could appreciate her for who she was. The urge to flee before she got in over her head, beset her.
“You know, on second thought...” She turned to her friend.
This week, Avery’s hair was dyed the color of muscat grapes, a deep hue of electric purple. As a hairdresser, Avery changed her hairstyle and color as often as most people changed clothes.
“Yes?” Avery arched an eyebrow.
“Maybe this—”
“Oh, no.” Avery wrapped a restraining hand around Jorgie’s wrist. “You are not backing out!”
“Not what?” Jorgie’s voice came out high and squeaky, giving her away.
“You’re not fooling me. I’ve known you too long. You’ve got that I’m-gonna-run-away-from-fun look in your eyes. The same look you had in eighth grade when we played Spin The Bottle at Miley Kinslow’s birthday party and it pointed to the guy you’d been mooning over and instead of kissing him, you hopped up and hid in the closet. Remember that?”
“Quint Mason,” Jorgie said. “And everyone laughed at me.”
She’d had a puppy-love crush on Quint for the entire school year, and he barely knew she existed. If she squeezed her eyes closed tightly enough, she could still see him as he’d looked then—tall, lanky, medium brown hair, a devilish grin that melted tweenaged hearts.
Of course, as a tenth grader, he’d never given her the time of day, and she’d been far too shy to even say boo to him, but she’d been besotted. Jorgie sighed. She’d been getting it wrong with the opposite sex ever since.
She wondered whatever happened to Quint. Then she remembered something her brother Keith had told her in passing after his ten-year high school reunion the previous fall where he’d and Quint had chatted. Quint had been stationed in Afghanistan, but that he’d recently left the Air Force and was working for some private airline.
“Yeah.” Avery tapped her temple with an index finger. “Quint Mason. That’s him. This trip is just like that. Instead of hiding in the closet, you have the chance to grab life by the throat and really live.”
“But is an erotically themed destination vacation really the answer?”
“Look at this.” Avery snatched the Eros brochure from her hand and shook it under her nose. “Look at all the opportunities you’d be running away from.”
Jorgie sighed. “I guess.”
Her friend flipped through the pages, reading the ad copy out loud. “Learn the sex secrets every courtesan knew. Find out how to hold men completely in your thrall. Dance the seductive dance that brought kings to their knees. Become a woman of exotic pleasures.”
Embarrassment heated Jorgie’s cheeks. She snatched the brochure back and stuffed it inside her purse. “Shh, someone will hear you.”
Avery shrugged. “So what? I’m not ashamed.”
“There are kids around.”
“Hey, I’m not their mother. It’s not my job to censor their exposure to the world.”
“Maybe not, but you don’t have to announce to the entire airport where we’re going.”
“Seriously,” Avery said, “don’t run away. This is your chance to show that dork, Brian, that you’re anything but boring, and where does he get off accusing you of being too conventional? You two met at an accountants’ conference, for crying out loud. He’s just as conventional as you, or he was before he—”
“But I am conventional.”
“Conventional is as conventional does.”
“Huh?”
“It’s something my Grammie says.”
“Your Grammie says, ‘conventional is as conventional does’?”
“No, she says ‘pretty is as pretty does,’ I just substituted conventional, but the advice still applies.”
“Huh?”
“Sure, it does. Act pretty and you’ll be pretty. Act conventional and you’ll be conventional. Act unconventional and—”
“I get your drift.”
“Stop dragging your feet. Actually, stop thinking. You think too much, Jorgie.”
“And you never look before you leap, Avery.”
“But I have a lot more fun than you do.”
True enough. “You know, this is just a variation of the same conversation we’ve been having for twenty years.”
“I’m the accelerator...” Avery said, starting the quote their mothers who’d spoken over their heads as they’d played in the sandbox together. Avery was the kid who flung herself headfirst down the slide. While Jorgie was the crying girl who hovered on the top rung of the ladder, too scared to climb back down, too fearful to take the plunge.
“And I’m the brake,” Jorgie finished.
“We balance each other out. It’s the secret to our lifelong friendship.” Grinning, Avery slung her arm over Jorgie’s shoulder.
Avery’s grin bolstered her sagging confidence. Truthfully, she didn’t know what she’d do without her friend. Avery had such a strong life force. Whenever she was around her, Jorgie instantly felt stronger, braver, more adventuresome. What few risks Jorgie had taken were due solely to her best friend’s influence. Avery was an exuberant leader, barreling her way through life on magnetic charm and sheer good luck.
“Your turn.” Avery elbowed her forward.
Shoulder muscles tensed tight as a wire, Jorgie stepped up to the kiosk and inserted her credit card. Ready or not, this was happening.
“While you’re doing that,” Avery told her, “I’m going to the ticket counter.”
“Huh? What for?”
“Never you mind. I’ll be right back.” Avery raised her hand over her head and gave Jorgie a backward wave.
Her friend sashayed over to the ticket counter, her low-rise jeans and cropped cotton T-shirt revealing a peek at the vivid ink art decorating her lower spine. Jorgie would never ever have the courage to get a tattoo, but as much as Avery’s audacity shocked her, she also admired her friend’s bravery.
The ticket kiosk spit out Jorgie’s boarding pass.
It was confirmed. She and Avery were on their way to Venice to learn how to make love like courtesans. Not that Avery needed sex lessons—the woman kept more men dangling on the string than she could count—but her friend could definitely do with a dose of the courtesans’ famed discretion.
Okay, all right, she would do this. She needed this. It was time she stopped playing it safe. Brian was right. She was too conventional. She could do this as long as she had Avery beside her.
Speaking of Avery, where in the heck had she gotten off to?
Ticket in one hand and her carry-on clasped in the other, Jorgie spun away from the kiosk. She was so busy searching the crowd for her friend that she didn’t see the man barreling down on her until it was too late. She tried to zigzag, but that only mad e things worse because he did the same thing.
Wham!
They collided in a tangle of arms and legs and rolling luggage on the floor together.
“Are you okay?” His voice was as deep as Phantom Lake, where her parents owned a summer cottage.
His hands rested on her shoulders, steadying her. Jorgie lay on the floor and her skirt had flipped up, revealing way too much thigh. She yanked her skirt to her knees and darted her gaze to his face.
Had he noticed?
His teasing grin said it all. Oh yeah, he’d noticed.
And she was noticing for the first time just how extremely handsome he was. The stuff of daydreams. Chiseled jaw. Neatly trimmed thick, wavy brown hair. Mischievous cocoa-colored eyes. A slightly crooked nose that told her it had been broken at one time, but it kept him from being too damned gorgeous.
She felt like fleeing. Jorgie gulped, stared. Say something, dummy.
“Hey,” he said. “I know you.”
She frowned, shook her head, unable to speak against the weight of his warm, distracting hand on her shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah, sure I do. I used to hang out with your brother Keith when my family lived in Burleson. It’s Quint, Quint Mason. Remember me?” He extended a hand.
Quint Mason? Was it possible? Here? Now? She stared, stunned by coincidence and his absolute gorgeousness.
His hand stayed outstretched; the smile firmly hung on his lips.
She almost laughed. Not because there was anything funny, but to help relieve her nervous tension. What else could she do?
His hand was hard but friendly, just like the man himself. He had a look of surprised delight on his face, and she could hardly believe he was that glad to see her. Gently, he tugged her to her feet.
She felt oddly absurd, as if she’d stumbled down an Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole. A really cool rabbit hole, yes, but an odd sensation all the same. “Umm... umm...”
“How have you been, Jorgie?” he asked, his voice low and warm.
Yikes! Her heart was on fire. He’d remembered her name! Her name on his tongue felt as tender as a hug.
“Wow, you’ve certainly changed.” An appreciative light danced in his eyes.
She wasn’t the only one who’d changed. He’d gone from lean and lanky to muscular and broad-shouldered. From good-looking to drop-dead handsome.
“No more braces.” He tapped his front teeth.
Her body flushed hot. “I got them off when I was a sophomore.”
“No more pigtails.” His hand went to her hair, his fingertips briefly skimming her neck.
Goose bumps set up camp on her forearms, and her breathing grew so shallow she was practically panting. “Left those behind with the private school uniform.”
“And you don’t have library books clutched in your arms. Did you still love reading?”
“I adore it. Nothing’s changed there, but I’ve upgraded to an e-book reader. Got it stashed in my purse for the plane ride.”
“And you aren’t wearing glasses.”
“I got LASIK,” she said.
“Those beautiful eyes are the same.” He nodded. “So deep blue that they’re almost purple. Like a Colorado mountain stream. Few people have eyes that color, but the minute I looked into yours, I knew it was you.”
He remembered her!
She shouldn’t have found the idea so damn thrilling, but she did. Her junior high crush remembered her! Her heart did a crazy little rumba and all those old memories of yearning and burning squeezed her chest tight.
Calm down, Jorgina. You’re getting overexcited.
“You know,” he said. “I’d love to grab a drink, and catch up on old times...”
What old times? She hadn’t spoken to him ten times the entire year he’d lived in Burleson and hung out with her brother. She’d been far too shy. Far too gobsmacked by such a self-confident guy.
“But...” He glanced at his watch. “I’m late for work. Maybe we could hook up when you get back home?” His comment had been mildly made, but it threw her off to think of meeting up with him again.
“Maybe.” She breathed, hopeful even as her brain churned with a thousand reasons why that was a bad idea.
He pulled a business card from the pocket of his sport jacket, he just had to be a snazzy dresser, as well as good-looking, and passed it over to her. “Call me when you get back in town.”
Yeah, right. She’d find the courage to do that about the same time hell froze over. Still, she palmed the card and clutched it tight.
“See ya.” He picked up his carry-on, raised a hand in farewell, and took off.
Stunned, Jorgie felt as if she’d been clipped in a drive-by. What was this odd sensation?
Avery sidled up. “Omigod, who’s the hottie?”
Simultaneously, they both cocked their heads to watch Quint walk away, the fabric of his slacks molding to his toned butt. They sighed in unison.
“That,” Jorgie said, “was Quint Mason.”
“Quint Mason of Spin The Bottle fame? Get outta town.” Avery gave her a playful shove.
Jorgie pointed to her luggage. “I’m working on it.”
Avery giggled. “You know what I mean. This is incredible.”
“How so?”
“It’s kismet, fate, serendipity, manifest destiny. I mean, we were just talking about Quint and poof...here he was. What are the odds?”
“Well, actually,” Jorgie said, her mathematical accountant’s mind kicking in, “the probability isn’t as slim as you might think, given that Quint works in the airline industry and DFW is the biggest airport in the state. He probably passes through here every morning on his way to work.”
“Yeah, but what are the odds that you’d be standing here when he sauntered by?”
“I could do a statistical analysis if you wanted...”
Avery plastered her palms over both ears. “No, no, please spare me. Numbers make my head explode.”
“It’s really just like that phenomena where you decide to buy a certain car—”
“Porsche. I want a Porsche Boxster.”
“You decide to buy a Porsche Boxster,” Jorgie said, “and suddenly everywhere you look is crawling with Porsches Boxsters. Baader-Meinhof.”
“Huh?”
“That’s what the phenomena is called. Baader-Meinhof syndrome. It’s named after—”
Avery raised a hand. “Don’t need the blow by blow, thanks. You just can’t resist anything brainiac-ish, can you.”
“Anyway, if we hadn’t been talking about Quint, then I probably would never have noticed him. He would have walked right on by. Just like if you weren’t dying to own a Porsche Boxster, you wouldn’t notice every single one of them that drove past.”
“Except that Quint didn’t walk right on by, did he? The man ran smack-dab into you.”
“You saw that?”
“The whole airport saw it.”
Jorgie winced. She hated being the center of attention. Unlike Avery, who courted the spotlight with glee, although Jorgie did admire her friend’s brazenness.
“Don’t obsess about it,” Avery said. “No one cares that your skirt was practically up around your waist.”
Jorgie groaned.
“Look at the bright side. At least you weren’t going commando. Come on. Let’s get through security before the line gets any longer. Our plane boards in fifteen minutes.”
Avery was right. No point obsessing over something she couldn’t change. She needed to live in the moment and get fired up about her trip. She was going to Venice! What more could a woman ask for?
By the time they were through the checkpoint and found their gate at Eros Air, boarding was already in progress.
“Hey,” Avery said, nudging Jorgie in the side. “Isn’t that him?”
“Who?”
“Mr. Handsome over there by the gate attendant.”
Jorgie focused on the jetway. Sure enough, Quint Mason getting on the plane. Her plane. To Venice. What was he doing on her plane?
Quint had said he was late for work. Did he work for Eros? Was he a pilot, or a navigator, or a flight attendant? But he wasn’t in uniform.
Jorgie frowned and looked at her ticket. “Are we at the right gate?”
“E37. That’s you.”
She focused back on Avery. “What do you mean, that’s me?”
“This is your gate.”
“My gate?” She raised an eyebrow.
