Thirteen Hours Read online

  THIRTEEN HOURS

  © 2008 BY MEGHAN O’BRIEN. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  ISBN 10: 1-60282-014-7

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-014-2

  THIS TRADE PAPERBACK ORIGINAL IS PUBLISHED BY

  BOLD STROKES BOOKS, INC.

  NEW YORK, USA

  FIRST EDITION: MAY 2008

  THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. NAMES, CHARACTERS, PLACES, AND INCIDENTS ARE THE PRODUCT OF THE AUTHOR’S IMAGINATION OR ARE USED FICTITIOUSLY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ACTUAL PERSONS, LIVING OR DEAD, BUSINESS ESTABLISHMENTS, EVENTS, OR LOCALES IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL.

  THIS BOOK, OR PARTS THEREOF, MAY NOT BE REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM WITHOUT PERMISSION.

  * * *

  CREDITS

  EDITORS: JENNIFER KNIGHT AND STACIA SEAMAN

  PRODUCTION DESIGN: STACIA SEAMAN

  COVER DESIGN BY SHERI ([email protected])

  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost, I would like to thank Radclyffe for the opportunity to join the Bold Strokes team. I’ve received such a warm welcome, and the future looks bright. I would also like to thank Jennifer Knight for lending her mad editing skills to another of my novels. Each time we work together I learn so much, and I’m forever grateful for this continued education. I’d also like to thank Stacia Seaman for finding all my boo-boos and helping to make this book the best it can be. And as always, I need to recognize K.E. Lane for her constant willingness to read my work and offer thoughtful suggestions. On a personal note, I want to thank my partner Angie for her unwavering support. I know it’s not easy to be a single mother when I’m busy writing and/or editing, and I appreciate you giving me time away from being mommy so I can work. Thanks also to Ty, who has encouraged me from the beginning and always has good advice when I need it. And a hearty thank you to my sister Kathleen, for always being there.

  And last but certainly not least, I want to thank my parents. I’ve felt strange about acknowledging them in the past, but only because it makes me uneasy to think of them reading my steamier scenes, and not because they don’t deserve it. They have offered me incredible support and always take interest in my writing, whether I want them to or not! (Just kidding). Mom and Dad, I love you, and thanks for being the best parents in the world. And please, for the love of all that is good, don’t read this book!

  Dedication

  To Angie. I love you.

  HOUR ZERO

  At approximately seven o’clock on the evening of her twentyeighth birthday, during an otherwise uneventful Friday night at the office, Dana Watts was confronted by the most perfect pair of naked female breasts she had ever seen. Given that her real-life exposure to naked female breasts had, until that moment, been limited to the odd glance in the locker room at the gym and, when she was twelve years old, a rather uncomfortable glimpse of her grandmother dressing in her bedroom with the door ajar, this was perhaps not saying a lot.

  The breasts in question were attached to a half-naked stripper who landed on her lap and began gyrating in time with some godawful, bass-heavy music that blasted from an iPod now sitting on Dana’s desk.

  Unable to move with the woman’s weight across her thighs, uncertain about what to do with her hands, Dana could only sit and stare at the rosy-tipped breasts that swayed in front of her face.

  They were perfect, and for a crazy moment she forgot about the proposal she was supposed to be drafting and considered reaching up to cup them in her hands. But Dana wasn’t the irresponsible type, and she certainly wasn’t the kind of woman who went around feeling up strippers. Humiliated by her impulse, she felt hot anger surge through her body. Her proposal was far more important than whatever cheap thrill this woman thought she was offering.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Dana snapped. “Stand up and turn off that music. Now.”

  The dark-haired stripper grinned, rocking against her body. “I’m your birthday present.” She reached down and grasped Dana’s hand, bringing it up to rest on one of her perfect breasts. “Enjoy me,” she whispered hotly in her ear.

  Dana’s fingers curled automatically at the sensation of an erect nipple poking into the center of her palm. Exhaling through her nose, she repeated, “Turn off the music. Don’t make me ask you again.”

  The stripper stared at her, still straddling her thighs. She raised an elegant eyebrow. “You don’t seem totally disinterested.”

  Dana willed her face not to color in embarrassment. “Just get off my lap. Put your shirt on, for God’s sake.”

  Her tone was harsher than she’d intended. Being so close to so much bare skin made her anxious, and she was determined to show control. Someone was responsible for this, some idiot coworker who would live to regret this stunt.

  Thankfully, the stripper seemed to understand she wasn’t kidding.

  She stood and backed away from the chair. As she bent to fish her Tshirt from the backpack she’d dropped on the floor, Dana tried not to let her gaze stray to the woman’s bottom. She failed miserably.

  The stripper grinned over her shoulder as she straightened up.

  “See something you like?”

  “I’m just wondering how you made it in here without getting arrested for solicitation,” Dana shot back as her unwelcome visitor pulled on a form-fitting T-shirt and torn, low-slung blue jeans. “You certainly look the part. Is the trashy outfit a stripper thing or just your own personal preference?”

  In truth, the young woman looked lovely. The barest hint of black panties rose above the waistband of her jeans. In her hand was the lacy black bra she’d cast aside when she dropped onto Dana’s lap. Her nipples strained against the cotton of her T-shirt.

  “Scott was right,” said the envoy from Slut City. “You do need to loosen up.”

  And suddenly it all makes sense. “Scott put you up to this,” Dana said without humor. “Of course.”

  “Of course. But he didn’t warn me you’d be such a bitch. What’s your problem? Are you scared of naked women or something?”

  Dana regarded the woman coolly. “Maybe I’m scared of what I might catch with you squirming around on my lap like that.”

  The stripper’s eyes flashed. “Fuck you. I’m leaving. Happy birthday, and go to hell.” She snatched up her iPod from Dana’s desk, shouldered her backpack, and half turned to stalk out of the office.

  Dana stood up and grabbed her by the elbow. “I’ll escort you out.”

  She wasn’t about to let a total stranger, an interloper in her domain, wander the hallways alone. Then I’ll call Scott and bitch at him for ruining a perfectly productive evening with his stupid little stunt.

  The woman pulled away, eyes burning. “Don’t bother. I found my way in, so I’m sure I can manage to find my way out.”

  “It wasn’t an offer,” Dana said. “I’m taking you downstairs. I don’t know how you managed to get into the building after hours, but you shouldn’t even be here.”

  As she marched the stripper across the room, the woman complained, “You’re a lot of fun. What’s got you so uptight? Wait, let me guess—you haven’t gotten laid in about five years?”

  Dana didn’t rise to the baiting, taking giant strides to the elevator down the hall from her office. The lights were dimmed in the hallway, a testament to her solitude in the building. Everyone else had left much earlier to begin their weekends at home. To Dana, home was intolerably boring compared to work. There was nowhere she would rather be than right here, at Boynton Software Solutions, indulging herself in her passion. Project management.

  She stopped in front of the elevator and jabbed at the call button.

  Incredibly, the stripper hadn’t given up. Bumping Dana with a playful shoulder, she said, “If I gave you a pity fuck, do you think you could manage a
smile?”

  “Getting laid isn’t as high a priority for me as it apparently is for you,” Dana said. “What makes me happy is having a great job. You know, like the one you interrupted me doing tonight.”

  “Yeah, it looked fascinating.”

  Dana ignored the sarcastic comeback and stared up at the display.

  How long did it take for the car to crawl from the lobby to the twentyninth floor? Was it incredibly slow tonight, or was she just incredibly angry? Indulging herself in some tit for tat, she remarked, “I wouldn’t expect a girl who takes off her clothes for money to understand the pleasure that comes from being successful.”

  “And I wouldn’t expect a cold bitch like you to understand what’s really important in life.”

  Dana snorted. “What? Having some cheap stripper shake her tits in my face?”

  The elevator doors slid open in time to avoid further conversation.

  Dana stepped inside, dragging the woman with her, and pressed the button for the lobby.

  As the doors slid shut in front of them, the stripper muttered, “You looked like you were enjoying my tits until you remembered that you might be stripped of your Ice Queen title.”

  Dana spun her head around, a denial on her lips, when the lights flickered and then blinked out, and the elevator shuddered to a halt.

  The sudden motion threw them both forward a step, and Dana brought her arms around the other woman instinctively, preventing her from tumbling to the ground. For a moment, the elevator was pitch black, then the dim emergency lights activated and flooded the car with gentle light. After a beat, they both looked at the elevator door and the rows of buttons next to it.

  The woman in Dana’s arms stared up at her with wide blue eyes.

  “No way,” she whispered.

  Shocked into action, Dana released her and took a step toward the door. She shook her head. “Everything’s fine. We’ll just push the emergency button.” She examined the controls, searching for the one that would get them out of their unlikely prison the fastest.

  “Are we…stuck in here?”

  Dana shook her head. “No. There is no way I’m getting stuck in an elevator with a goddamn stripper when I’m in the middle of my goddamn proposal.”

  “Your proposal?” The stripper looked incredulous. “You’re trapped in an elevator on your birthday, on Friday night, and you’re worried about a proposal?”

  Dana chewed on her lip, pushing each button on the panel in succession. None lit up, and none seemed to trigger an emergency failsafe.

  “It’s an important proposal.”

  “Oh, man. Stuck in an elevator, and it has to be with the most boring woman alive.”

  Having tried the last button, Dana slammed the heel of her hand against the elevator door. “Fuck! We can’t actually be stuck in this thing.”

  “Someone will notice us, right? They’ll get us out of here.”

  “Eventually, but everyone’s already gone for the weekend.” Dana couldn’t believe she’d stepped away from her desk without her cell phone. They were probably going to be incarcerated here until Rocky, the security guard, arrived at seven or eight tomorrow morning.

  “Eventually?” the stripper screeched. “No fucking way I’m going to sit in this elevator all night. With you.”

  Dana winced at the shrill put-down. “You think I’m happy? This never would have happened if you hadn’t bothered me with your stupid lap dance—”

  “Hey, I was just doing my job,” the girl retorted. “You know, the one your friend hired me to do? If you’re pissed off, take it out on him. Not me.” She moved as far away from Dana as she could, facing the back of the elevator car and folding her arms across her chest.

  “Although I understand why he thought you needed it. You’re just a barrel of laughs.”

  “Just great,” Dana whispered to herself. “What a perfect birthday present. A bitchy little stripper all my own for the night. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay Scott for this one.” Castration was a first thought, but she was open to more elaborate punishments.

  “Wonderful,” her angry companion muttered. “Fucking great.”

  “Exactly my thought,” Dana said.

  They stared at one another for a moment in perfect agreement.

  Dana assumed it would be one of very few such moments of accord.

  HOUR ONE—7:00 P.M.

  Her name was Laurel.

  “Yes, imagine that,” she said after revealing this fact.

  “Strippers have names…kind of like real people.”

  Dana produced a humorless smile, finally looking over to her companion. The young woman sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs. She regarded Dana with stormy blue eyes.

  “Listen, if we’re going to be stuck in here together, do you think you could manage just a little bit of civility?”

  “Let’s make a deal, Laurel.” Pretty name. It matched the pretty breasts. Frowning at her line of thought, Dana quickly continued, “You sit quietly on your side of this elevator and I’ll do the same on mine. If we can manage that, I think we’ll get along just fine.”

  Laurel eyed her with obvious disdain. “Seriously, what’s your problem? I’m willing to start over if you are. Being trapped in here doesn’t have to be as completely miserable as you seem to be determined to make it.”

  Tired of arguing—with a goddamn stripper—Dana didn’t respond to the quiet words. The last thing she wanted to do was make nice with a woman Scott had hired for the express purpose of making a statement about her life. From the moment the surprise birthday humiliation burst into her office and filled the sterile room with music and intoxicating perfume, Dana had felt vulnerable and exposed. Being trapped in a small space with her seemed a particularly cruel punishment.

  She raised her eyes to the dim emergency lights that illuminated the elevator car. Dared she hope she’d saved her document recently enough that this power outage hadn’t wiped out hours of work? Leaning her head against the wall, she started piecing her proposal back together in her head. She was startled when Laurel spoke again.

  “My cat Isis is going to kill me,” she informed Dana. “I promised we were going to have bathtime tonight. She likes sitting on the edge of the tub and putting her nose in the bubbles. It usually irritates me, especially when she sneezes, but right now I’d give anything for bathtime.”

  Dana felt her lips twitching and tamped the reaction down fast.

  The mention of “bathtime” elicited images that made her frown. She wasn’t going there. “Well, I’m sorry you’re stuck with me instead.”

  Laurel’s mouth stretched into a slow smile. Her white teeth and full pink lips distracted Dana so completely she forgot to maintain her cool disinterest. Despite herself, she returned the warm look. Then, just as quickly, she forced her mind back to her proposal, the one she’d lost because Scott decided to send Laurel-the-perfectly-breasted careening into her evening. Her dark mood returned, and with it, her desire to draw blood. Her eyes dropped to Laurel’s hard nipples, outlined by the thin cotton of her T-shirt. The bra that was supposed to shield these distractions was still in Laurel’s hand.

  “Would you mind putting your bra on?” Dana asked in a rough voice. Flustered, she added, “I feel like I’m being stared at with those things pointing at me.”

  Laurel stretched out her legs and cocked her head. Suppressing what looked to be a smile of grand amusement, she said, “Whatever makes you happy, Dana.” With that, she shuffled away from the wall and pulled her T-shirt off.

  For the second time that night, Dana found herself trying hard not to stare goggle-eyed at the woman’s bare breasts. Startled, she whipped her head around so that she wouldn’t cave in to temptation. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Putting my bra back on, as requested.” There was a smirk in her voice. “You’re scared of naked women, aren’t you?”

  Dana glanced over to Laurel, trying hard not to flinch at the sight
of her in the lacy black bra. Her breasts looked no less spectacular than they had while bare.

  “I’m not ‘scared’ of naked women,” she retorted in a remarkably even voice. “I imagine I’d have a hard time looking in the mirror every morning if I were.”

  Laurel moved her eyes over Dana in a leisurely appraisal. “For the record, I imagine very few people would have a hard time looking at you in the mirror every morning.”

  Why the hell would she say that? After a moment of internal debate, Dana voiced her suspicion. “Did Scott hire you to have sex with me?”

  Blinking hard, Laurel said, “No.” Quickly, and with visibly shaking hands, she pulled her shirt over her head and tugged it down over her torso. “I’m not a goddamn prostitute.”

  Dana gave a casual shrug. “Sorry to offend. I guess I couldn’t tell for sure.”

  Laurel moved back to her spot against the wall. “You’re right,” she said in a flat voice. “Why don’t we just sit quietly and wait to be rescued?”

  Mission accomplished. Dana wondered why she felt so shitty about her personal attack. She stared distractedly at the numbered rows of buttons on the panel next to the elevator door. The woman was a stripper, for Christ’s sake. She got naked for money. Where did she get off acting offended about anyone’s assumption that she might do even more than that for a paycheck?

  Dana was able to stay silent for roughly five minutes before the guilt overwhelmed her. “Look, I’m sorry. Okay, Laurel? I’m sorry.”

  Laurel shrugged. “For what?”

  “For assuming that you might have sex for money. That was wrong, and I’m sorry I offended you.” When there was no response, Dana released an explosive sigh. “You know, when you do stuff like put someone’s hand on your breast—”

  “I was trying to get you to loosen up.” Laurel swung her cold gaze over to Dana. “You looked like you wanted to eat me alive but had no idea how to even start.”