He quickly tries to gain control of the situation by pulling out his dashing Casanova persona. "And may I say, the rumors about your beauty were greatly UNDER exaggerated."
"Thank you," she sighs but annoyance is radiating off her in waves and he can practically hear her thoughts of, "Damn typical male only thinking with one body part," and he's afraid she's going to cut this meeting short before he's even begun to get to know her.
He says with genuine remorse, "It seems I'm going to be doing quite a bit of apologizing to you today." His blue gaze bores effortlessly into hers. "I in no way, shape or form meant to offend you, Diamond. . . Please forgive my forwardness and chalk it up to being a stereotypical, stupid, virile man."
Her lips lift at his words into a pillow-soft smile and she nods her head in agreement. "I couldn't have said it better myself. . . You're definitely a stupid, umm - " and her lips purse together suggestively, "virile man."
She studies him openly, looking for any type of mistrust. Her eyes lose their wariness as she takes in his sober countenance and sorrowful, puppy-dog eyes.
He must pass her test because the next moment she's leaning towards him, perky breasts practically falling out of that sinfully tight dress as she asks, "Please tell me the truth."
Eyes up, Rick. Eyes up.
As the seconds tick by and he finds himself falling under the weight of her stare, the weight of her spell, he honestly believes any man would find it hard to lie to her.
"Try me. It's in my nature to tell the truth."
She rolls those beautiful iris's in disbelief and asks, "How many times have you used that line on a woman before?"
His face splits into a large grin, crinkly eyes and dashing dimple, displaying his joy at her question.
"Only once and certainly not in the exact same way. . . When I was a junior in college, barely legal to drink, and with barely little experience might I add, my buddies hauled me to an exclusive establishment where escorts were readily available. I asked one particular busty blond in her early thirties if she'd like to experience real pleasure from a masterful author's hands and she'd laughed, saying for a thousand dollars that she would teach me all about the intricacies of a woman's body."
"I gather you took her up on her offer?" Diamond's voice is quiet but with an edge of excitement, betraying how interested she is in his answer.
"No, as I said before I've never paid for sex."
There's a resounding knock on the door and the next moment Esposito's voice filters through, "Boss, you've got ten minutes."
"Thanks," she calls, before turning her full attention back on the writer, eyes clouded over in mystery. "I'm afraid we've gotten off-topic and I'm a very busy woman."
I don't doubt it, he thinks, naughtily conjuring up a picture of her dressed in a virginal white lace teddy with delicate little bows straining between her breasts, just beckoning to be undone with his teeth. . . He crosses his legs in a painful attempt to curb mini Castle's enthusiasm but his effort is thwarted when he smells ripe cherries wafting off her silken skin.
"Were there any other questions you have for me?"
"Yes," but he refuses to say that half of them would end up with her sicing her bodyguard on him and having him promptly thrown out on his ass.
"How many years do most girls stay in the business?"
"It varies greatly. . . but most don't last longer than five years."
From the disheartened tone in her voice he gets the impression that it's not necessarily a choice for the girls to stay or quit the business, - that the decision isn't left up to them.
"Do you actively search for new girls to join the business?"
"No, it's an exclusive position and I wouldn't wish, - " she abruptly stops speaking, worry lines marring her pretty forehead, and he can easily interrupt that she doesn't wish this life on anyone else, but he wants to hear it out of her own mouth, needs her to trust him enough to divulge the personal information.
"Care to elaborate?" he coaxes.
"To an author, no."
"You sure know how to wound a man."
"It's ONE of my specialties," she purrs smokily.
Oh God, he curls his fingers into his palms, nails digging into the flesh as she definitely insinuated, 'fucking-is-my-top-specialty'.
The afternoon light filters in through the blinds, highlighting the soft curls which brush her shoulders, the creamy unblemished skin, her cheeks caressed with a hint of blush, and he believes she just might be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
He clears his throat before continuing, "I gather there's a certain amount of danger to the job, hence the disgruntled bodyguard outside your door."
"Correct. I've learned I have to take certain precautions in this line of work."
His chest tightens at the implications and he continues softly, "I can only imagine some of the horrors you've faced."
"Hmm, you're very astute, Mister Castle. . . Guess it comes with the writer territory."
"Ah, a backhanded compliment from the lady," and he winks outrageously at her. "Careful Diamond, or whoever's on the opposite end of the listening device taped just beneath the headboard, might believe you're smitten with me."
Her eyes open wide in surprise at his revelation and she chuckles, a cute chortle that has him wishing there wasn't a camera in the room so he could do something ungentlemanly and completely inappropriate, and . . .
"No chance of that," she teases, eyes sparkling with a, 'I-enjoy-putting-down-egotistical-men' glimmer. "You're definitely not my type. Tell me, have you ever had a woman refuse you before?"
"Refuse this ruggedly-handsome mug?" His fingers rub across his angular jaw line, drawing her eyes down his smooth face. "Why don't you have dinner with me and we can discuss it in depth?"
"That's a resounding, NO."
"Not even a, 'I don't think so,' or 'I'll have to check my calendar,' Or a, 'Maybe, - if you find some manners?'"
She fails to hold back a beaming smile which displays perfectly straight white teeth, and he's unbelievably giddy knowing at least she enjoys his sense of humor.
His hand covers his heart and he says with dramatic flair, "It's just a good thing I don't discourage easily because you have a talent for putting men in their place."
"Only men who believe they're God's gift to women."
"What if I happen to be able to back up that claim?"
Her lips slightly part and his mind automatically drifts to thoughts of crushing her lush mouth, - using his talented, clever tongue to punish her, - transfer some of the scalding lava that's running through his veins into her.
He longs to give her a taste of her own sensuality as he claims that delectable mouth and determines whether she sighs or moans - - or just stays silent in his arms.
She quips merrily, "You are full of yourself, aren't you?"
He doesn't speak, just focuses on her gorgeous, cat-like eyes and wonders whether or not she's a screamer. . . Is she cool, collected, controlled under a lover's touch or do litanies of profanity break through her lips as she comes?
The thought of faceless men touching her, - old, stuffy, rich men plundering her sweetness has his gut churning in distaste and his breath catches. . .
"I've taken up enough of your time," he says sincerely, hoping his change of tactic surprises her, makes her somewhat curious about him. "Thank you for your willingness to assist me."
"As I said earlier, I wasn't given much of a choice."
"It's been the highlight of my day meeting you, Diamond," he drawls. (No way in hell he'll ever divulge it's been the highlight of his year and possibly his life as well)
He grasps her hand and raises it lovingly to his lips, eyes never wavering from hers as his mouth opens suggestively along the back of her palm.
"I'll leave a business card with your bodyguard, just in case you think of something else that may," his tongue slyly snakes out and soaks his lower lip, "help with my research."
By the way her eyes float to his lips, he knows without a doubt she's not immune to the sexual undercurrent pulsing between them, but her body language and damn sassy attitude say otherwise.
The devastating minx.
"No need to leave your card. The only place you'll be seeing me again is in your dreams."
She throws him a brazen, cheeky smile that radiates, I-don't-entertain-flamboyant-womanizers-who-think-they-can-bed-me-at-the-drop-of-a-hat.
"Goodbye, Mister Castle. It was very enlightening meeting you." She stands up and turns away from him, all lean legs and sashaying hips and is out the suite door before he can blink twice.
Oh Fuck!
He wipes a hand across his brow wondering when the last time he felt this inadequate around a woman, - if ever, - because in just 15 minutes, Diamond had done what he thought was impossible, - made him question whether or not he was charming enough, good-looking enough, man enough to ensnare a perfect ten woman.
Let the games begin, he thinks smugly as he picks up the delicate chain and fondles the antique ring in his fingers, seeing 'J & J Forever' engraved in the gold band.
He leaves her suite, a boyish grin adorning his face as he approaches the uptight hispanic, noticing his stiff posture and steamy beady eyes.
Uh-Oh, trouble between the lady and her bodyguard, and his grin widens to egotistical proportions because he invariably knows the trouble is HIM.
He stands close to Esposito, invading his personal space and with an air of, 'Yes, I'm the man,' stuffs his business card in the hispanic's leather jacket. "Don't lose this card as I'm expecting to hear from her again very soon."
"Not happening, bro," the Hispanic grates, glaring daggers at the author.
As he's walking away, it doesn't even bother him when he hears the bodyguard ripping the card to shreds, because he's got an almost fool proof plan. . . One where the illustrious Diamond will be calling him and seeking him out.