Double Seduction Series, Book 1
At a comic book convention, artist Megan Shore is thrilled to meet action movie hunk Garret McGatlin. Usually reclusive, Megan flirts with the leading man of her sexual fantasies. He invites her to his suite for a drink, but when she arrives, his rancher brother Trey opens the door and unleashes Megan’s cowboy fantasy. Both men pour on the charm, and she can’t decide which of them she desires more.
The McGatlin brothers have shared women, but none of them were like Megan, irresistible and perfect for both of them. Working together, they execute a potent seduction. During a hot, amazing week, the three-way relationship becomes emotionally charged. When they’re thrown into the media spotlight, Megan fears the exposure will trigger a past threat. Garrett and Trey need to prove they can keep Megan safe as well as happy and satisfied in their arms.
Megan Shore left her suite on the 37th floor of the Chicago hotel as a curiously familiar man stepped onto the elevator. A baseball cap was stuck in the back pocket of his jeans, and a tattoo peeked out from under the sleeve of his dark shirt.
“Hold the elevator, please.” She fast-stepped toward it as quickly as her spike-heeled red pumps allowed. Running late, as usual. Her workshop at the convention would start in five minutes. Barely enough time to get to where she needed to be.
The doors stopped halfway closed then silently slid open.
The man in the elevator heaved a loud breath as he stepped back against the glass wall of the elevator.
Megan took a spot closer to the front, not as brave as he evidently was. She noticed the mezzanine button was already pressed. Was that how she knew him? Was he a graphic artist, too? Under the guise of brushing something off the pant leg of her white suit, she risked a glance at him.
His gaze met hers. Those trademark blue eyes. Wavy, sandy brown hair a little long. Tall, really tall. Big across the shoulders, a tat of a lizard on his bicep… She sucked in a breath. Unbelievable. She’d seen that tattoo—and the man behind it—on the entertainment channel a month ago. It was Garret McGatlin. Action movie star.
A wild chill tingled through her. She smiled. “Thank you.”
He nodded, pulled his phone from the back pocket of his tight jeans, and started texting.
Glancing down, she noticed his heavy work boots, almost a military look. Was that his normal style, or did he have an action scene to film?
She looked out the moving wall of glass. She’d had a minor crush on him for three years, since she’d seen him in Killing’s Not a Stranger.
He seemed to want his privacy.
She didn’t blame him. She valued her privacy three hundred and sixty three days a year, then, for two intense days of the Comic Artists and Readers Convention, she became a very public star in her own universe. A different person than the reclusive artist she’d let herself become.
Hell, forget his privacy. How many chances would she get to talk to Garret McGatlin?
Sucking in a deep breath, she turned toward him. “Are you filming in Chicago?”
It took him a few seconds to drag his gaze from his phone. “Yes.”
Those eyes. Mmm. Terribly wicked. His nose a bit crooked from doing his own stunts. Lips pressed a little tight, possibly unhappy with being pestered by a fangirl. Strong jaw, freshly shaved. The smooth line of his throat eased down to the V of his black button-down shirt where a light sprinkling of hair shown.
She could play there, nuzzle her lips, tickle and tweak for hours. Oh, crap, was she gawking? Her gaze shot to his.
One perfect light-brown eyebrow arched up and a half-smile curved his lips. His eyes shifted, looking beyond her. The smile faded.
“Damn it.” He shoved his phone into his pocket, plucked a pair of aviator sunglasses with nearly black lenses from the back collar of his shirt, and slid them on. “How the hell do they always find me?” He pulled out the baseball cap and tugged it low on his head.
“Who?” She turned, looking out the side of the elevator into the three-story atrium of the mezzanine level. A hoard of people milled around the area where the elevator doors would open. Her people. The CARC attendees who would be her audience at the one-hour workshop she’d be giving on drawing interesting characters. The VIPs who would attend the meet and greet. The comic book fans who came to see her every year and waited in line for hours to talk to her at her signing table.
Her fans. And maybe one stalker? Her belly twisted. Taking a deep breath, she forced the fear back into its closet. She’d matured since college. Her hair was no longer spiky and red, but long, and back to its natural black. She’d changed her name, changed her city, changed her life. He. Couldn’t. Find. Her. The panic eased.
Back in control, she glanced at him.
The suave star was gone, replaced by a man disguised and twitchy. She almost felt sorry for him, but a naughty bubble of excitement built inside her. What would be his reaction when no one noticed him, and instead swarmed her?
“Them.” He gestured toward the crowd. “The lobby’s full of them so we figured this level would be safe. They’re like parasites.”
She fought down the urge to roll her eyes. He chose to live the life of a movie star. What did he expect? She tipped her head and made a sad-puppy face. “It must be so difficult.”
He froze for a moment. Through those black lenses, she could imagine him staring at her, wondering at her overly solicitous tone.
The elevator slowed, crawling toward the convention level.
“Uh, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “It’s…”
“Let me help you.” She leaned a bit closer to him and opened her eyes wide. “I’ll distract them while you sneak around the edge of the crowd and make your getaway.”
His lips tightened even further.
She slung the straps of her red purse onto her shoulder, flicked her hair over the other shoulder, and dramatically undid the top button on her wildly patterned blouse. “Ready?”
“What?” His voice held a skeptical laugh.
She’d pay a hundred dollars to see the expression in his eyes. Grinning, she stepped in front of the elevator doors as they opened. She whispered her mantra. “He. Can’t. Find. Me.”
A cheer went up, and a half dozen people shouted, “Megan!”
She smiled and let herself relax.
Garret’s jaw dropped open as he watched her step into the crowd and become surrounded. “Who the hell are you, lady?” he mumbled.
He’d noticed her staring at him in the elevator. Could tell by her tone of voice she was interested in him. Knew by the way she’d stared at his body, she’d like to get to know him.
Damn, he’d like to know her a lot better, too. Tall and beautiful, that long, silky hair, her smooth chocolate voice, and dark green eyes. When she’d unbuttoned her blouse, he’d caught a glimpse of the tops of her nicely rounded breasts, and as she’d walked away, her fine ass swayed, tempting him.
As the elevator doors began to close, he reached out and pushed against one side and they slid open. He stepped out and lurked against the wall, knowing he should make his escape, but wanting to watch her for just another minute.
She greeted her fans as they jockeyed for a spot closer to her. They remained respectful and calm, unlike his fans who were intent on touching him, wanting to come away with a memento, like his shirt or a chunk of his hair.
A quick laugh escaped him. Her strange behavior in the elevator made sense now. She’d known they were her fans, not his, and she took the opportunity to give him shit, knock his cocky ass down a few rungs.
A few of her fans eyed him, now. He glanced around the room and spotted his brother, Trey, then got moving toward the exit.
“Megan,” he whispered. The name tasted good on his tongue. He’d like to taste more of her.
* * * * *
From across the mezzanine lobby, Trey McGatlin stared at the dark-haired goddess who’d stepped out of the elevator. Tall and trim in her white pantsuit, she walked like she was floating. Her long hair swung as she turned, and vivid colors flashed from under her suit coat. Her smile shot a solar flare through the room, which ricocheted to hit him deep in his gut. “Hello sugar,” he murmured. With his index finger, he tipped his cowboy hat back on his head and took a step forward. Somehow drawn to her, his body led him like a compass to north. Who was she? He had to find out.
The crowd surrounded her, definitely her fans. Instead of running from them like his brother, Garret, did, she talked to them, even tipped her head and listened to them. A second later, he recognized his brother in disguise as he stepped out of the elevator.
Garret stood to the side, staring at the woman. Was he feeling the pull, too? After a minute, his brother skirted the crowd, keeping his head down.
Moving to intercept him, Trey caught his eye and gestured toward the west entrance.
Halfway there, they met up. Garret hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “What the hell is going on here?”
Trey looked around at the people dressed as super heroes, the cardboard cutouts of comic book characters lining the walls. “Take a guess, little brother.” He laughed. “I’ll give you a hint. It ain’t a rodeo.”
Garret cussed under his breath.
His brother had to be a little freaked out that no one recognized him. He was well-grounded, mostly, but he enjoyed his fame.
“Did you see that woman who got off the elevator before me?”
They pushed out the exit doors and walked to where the limo waited. “The tall, sexy sweetheart? Oh, yeah. Couldn’t miss her.”
Garret stopped and took off his glasses as the driver opened the back door. “Goddamn. Up close? She’s amazing. Dark green eyes.”
“Yeah?” Trey folded himself into the limo first. “Even from across the room, I could tell she’s somethin’ special.”
His brother flopped down next to him and grabbed a bottle of water from the ice bucket. “She is, but…” He puffed out a long breath. “I acted like a jerk. I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m an idiot.”
“You are, baby brother. No question there.” Trey smiled as he set his hat on the other seat.
“Fuck off.” His voice didn’t carry much heat. “Wonder who she is.”
His brother had to be thinking the same thing he’d been; she’d be perfect for them. They liked sharing women, had been addicted to it since Garret was a teenager, just out of high school. It’d been a lot of months since they’d spent a night as a threesome. “I can find out who she is.” Their eyes met. “She looked tall.”
“Heels. But she had to be nearly six feet without them. She was…” He leveled his hand across the top of his nose. “About five-ten, five-eleven.”
Trey let a soft groan escape. Tall women with dark hair charmed him senseless. “Curvy?”
“Yeah. Real nice.” His brother adjusted the front of his jeans and Trey felt his own pants tighten a bit.
He pulled out his phone and accessed the internet. “She’s part of the convention. They called her Megan.”
“Heard that. Might not be her real name, though.” He slumped lower in the seat and dropped his head back. “She’s got an attitude. Spunk. She’d be a lot of fun.”
“Here she is. Megan Shore. Huh.”
Garret rolled his head to face him. “What?”
“She’s a graphic artist. One of the best in the world. From Canada.”
“Canada? Shit.” He turned his head forward again. “That’s halfway around the world from Texas.”
He laughed. “Did you flunk geography?” He touched a link to her website. “And anyway, who said we’re bringing her home with us? Least, not until we get to know her a hell of a lot better.”
“True. She may have the personality of a cactus and the brains of a donkey.”
Trey stared at Megan Shore’s avatar. A cartoon image of herself. Had she drawn it? It was really good. “Private person.”
Turning the face of his phone to his brother, he grinned. “Artist’s rendering instead of a picture.”
“Shit, even in the drawing she’s sexy.”
“For the face and body you swear she’s got, I’d spend the time getting to know her.” He accessed her bio. “See if she’s got a personality, and a…” Her education was impressive. “Says she’s got a master’s degree. So much for your donkey brain theory.”
“Aw, hell.” Garret chugged down his water, crushed the bottle, and tossed it in the trash bin. “She recognized me in the elevator. She’s gotta think I’m the biggest ass this side of Mexico.”
Trey sucked in a breath as a plan formed. “You willin’ to apologize to the lady, little brother?”
Their eyes locked as ideas wordlessly flew back and forth between them for a few seconds. It’d be his brother’s decision whether to pursue her or not. He was always alert to the possibility of choosing the wrong woman, someone who’d sell their story to the tabloids. Garret sat up. “Make it happen.”
* * * * *
That evening, Megan trudged out of the elevator on the 37th floor. Just a few more steps and she could take off her shoes and release her feet from their torture. It’d been a long day.
“Good evening, Ms. Shore.” The young man behind the concierge desk stood. “Do you have a moment?”
No! “Yes, of course.”
“You had a floral delivery. I set them on the entry table in your suite.”
They must be from the convention organizers. Or…she froze as dread tightened her chest. Could it be from her stalker? She brushed aside the fear. It’d been years. He couldn’t find her. Especially not here. He’d never think to look for her at a comic book convention. “Thank you.” She started walking. She should tip him, but didn’t have the energy just then. Besides finding out who sent the flowers, a hot bath, room service, and a long night’s sleep were all she could focus on.
She entered the modern cherry wood and brass room and kicked off her heels before the door closed behind her. Thick, white carpet cushioned the soles of her feet. “Mmm.”
Dropping her purse, she picked up the large box overflowing with flowers and carried it into the living room. Collapsing on one of the black leather couches, she stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the Chicago skyline and the lake. Which one was it? She shrugged. One of the Great Lakes. She’d never paid attention in geography class.
She unwrapped the cellophane and peeled back the box to reveal an outrageously expensive crystal vase filled with a fireworks display of brightly-colored flowers. Burying her nose in them, she sniffed the heavy scent of pink and yellow roses, the sweet, earthy perfume of red carnations, and a dozen more she didn’t know the names of.
“How lovely.” Plucking the envelope from the middle of the arrangement, she slid out the card. Thanks for running interference. Join me for a drink tonight. 8 p.m. Suite 3714. Garret.
That same little thrill-chill she’d enjoyed in the elevator raced through her. “Drinks with Garret McGatlin.” This was turning out to be the wildest day of her life. Running into him in the elevator, an invitation to his suite. Maybe more? A kiss?
“I’m going to let him kiss me, too.” She picked up the vase and set the flowers in the middle of the coffee table, tossed the trash, and grabbed her phone out of her purse.
Six-thirty. She had time to order supper, take a bath, and choose something slinky, but not too obvious, to wear. Walking into the bedroom, she dialed the phone and opened the closet to flip through her limited wardrobe.
Her best friend answered on the first ring. “What are you up to?”
“Beth, you are not going to believe this. I have a date in a half hour with Garret McGatlin.”
“You what?” Her voice hit manic level.
She pulled out a dark pantsuit. “I know, right? I rode the elevator with him, flirted a little, but that was it. Somehow he found out who I was and sent me an invitation.” She hung the suit back in the closet and walked to the window. “Inside a gorgeous bouquet of flowers.”
“You’re serious? The Garret McGatlin? Movie hunk?”
“Yes, the one and only.” She puffed out a breath. “What do I wear?”
“Girlfriend…” Beth assumed her no nonsense voice. “Tell me what’s in your closet, and I swear if it’s all pantsuits, I’m going to disown you.”
An hour and a half later, wearing the only dress she’d packed, Megan stood at the opposite end of the 37th floor, in front of his suite. Looking down at the purple and pink geometric print short-sleeved dress, she considered going back to her suite and changing into a pantsuit. But Beth was right, her pink, peep-toed patents with four-inch heels were too cute to be hidden under pant legs.
Pasting on a smile, she rang the illuminated doorbell.
This was it. The realization of her fantasy evening with the sexiest man on the big screen—or any screen—had her stomach jittering and her nipples puckering.
The door swung open and she held her breath. Not Garret, but he looked quite a bit like him. Handsome in a more rugged way.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She stepped back and looked at the suite number. “I was looking for—”
“Garret?” His smile was an exact duplicate of the movie star’s. “He’s delayed in traffic.” A definite Texas drawl. “Sends his apologies, and asked if you’d mind waitin’.”
“No. That’s fine.” The less-intense, more-sensual version of Garret stared at her with blue eyes a shade darker than the star’s. Hair cut shorter in a blonder, sun-streaked, just-cut look, and darker skin. The two men shared the same sexy lips and strong jaw.
He smiled again and her heart dipped and fluttered. Who knew there were two of them?
“I’m Trey, Garret’s brother.” He stepped back, his python cowboy boots incongruous against the plush carpet, his tight jeans skimming long legs and narrow hips, a woven leather belt with a good-sized silver buckle, and his light green cotton shirt open a few buttons at the neck, and rolled up over strong forearms. “Comin’ in?”