The Cover Model by Cheyenne Meadows Page B

about luck. Being stuck in an elevator with his target woman, who luckily had hardly changed her looks at all.
    "I'm Fancy." Her voice carried like a warm spring breeze, although a bit breathless.
    He glanced at her, caught her staring at his backside, and bit back a grin. It seemed beneath that prim and proper exterior resided a passionate woman ready to step out into the world. Later, he would coax her into further letting her hair down. After they escaped this elevator glitch. First, he had to figure out more about Donna/Darla in order to point the Feds her direction.
    "And I'm Mitch, as this pretty little one seems to already know."
    Darla nodded enthusiastically. "I've got all the books featuring you on the cover. I even have an oversized poster of you at home on my bedroom wall."
    Kind of creepy being a pinup man to an embezzlement suspect who supposedly ripped off investors for millions, emptying their retirement funds in the process, and handing the money over to terrorists.
    "Fine way to begin our date." Fancy sulked with a frown on her face, no longer interested in his rear as her eyes scanned the room.
    Damn it. What are the odds? He cussed at fickle fate and racked his brain for ideas. All those years of schooling and a law degree had to be good for something. One suggestion came to mind, attached, and refused to budge. If he could get Darla back to her hotel room with the thought of sex on her mind, then somehow escape before actually performing the deed, he'd net the information the Feds needed, could report to his contact, and be done with this mess just in time to enjoy the rest of the convention. Here goes nothing.
    "Oh, I don't know. The night is still young." He locked his gaze with Darla, throwing all his experience and skills at seduction into play. If he could make her believe he wanted to hop into her bed, perhaps she would take him to her hotel room. Once there, he could find a way to excuse himself, report back to his contact, and be done with this spy business. Giving her a small smile, he purposely dropped his gaze to her abundant cleavage threatening to spill out of the low cut saloon gown.
    "Very nice… dress."
    She grinned at the compliment. "Thanks."
    Hearing an outraged gasp, he glanced to his side. Sure enough, Fancy sat on the floor in her demure neck-to-ankle proper school teacher's dress with a scowl of exasperated irritation on her face.
    "Umm. Excuse me, god's gift to women. Remember me? Your date for the evening?"
    Inwardly, he cringed, realizing how his seduction act would appear to Fancy. Yet no other solutions came to mind, and he would be dense as a doorknob to let this fateful opportunity pass. Not when Darla sat staring at him like he was the cherry on top of a tasty sundae, one she couldn't wait to eat. As much as he hated the notion of hurting Fancy's feelings and killing her budding interest, his morals couldn't let this golden chance pass. People's lives and hard earned money stood on the line, not to mention erasing a ton of inflowing currency to a known terrorist group. Mitch's gut ached at the pain on Fancy's face. He wouldn't hurt her for the world, but for the life of him, he couldn't think of another way to corral Darla. After all, she could leave this elevator, reinvent herself, and even disappear for good. No. This was his one perfect shot and he couldn't blow it. Lives might depend upon this very moment.
    He'd make it all up to Fancy later. Grovel. Beg. Explain everything. Surely, she'd understand. With a quick prayer, he settled into the role of horny seducer. "No date?"
    Darla shook her head.
    "That's unbelievable. A beautiful woman like yourself without a man. They all must be blind."
    "True." She stood and walked to Mitch's side before plopping back down and grabbing his arm. "I can't believe I'm sitting here with Mitch Jameson."
    He smiled in return, working to set the hook deeper. Leaning in, he sniffed at her ear. "You smell delicious." A pungent smell of