Drive Me Wild Read online

  She groped for solid ground. “You must be getting ready for finals by now.”

  “Don’t remind me.” His hands rested easily on the wheel.

  “Are you falling behind?” Because she didn’t drive, she was fascinated with how casually he handled the big Town Car in heavy traffic. She’d ridden with people who made her nervous, but with Alec she felt completely safe.

  He laughed. “I’m always behind, but it’s my own fault. Want some music?”

  “Okay.” With her heightened awareness of him, she wasn’t sure music was a good idea, but to say she didn’t want any might call attention to a change in their relationship. She hoped by pretending there was no change she’d eventually regain control of her thoughts.

  Alec reached over and pushed a button on the CD changer. Obviously he’d preloaded it with soft jazz, their agreed-upon traveling music. In the past, the jazz had filled the car with sensual overtones, but today the atmosphere oozed sex.

  For the first time in the six months she’d known Alec, Molly couldn’t think of anything to say. Instead, she sat with her fingers laced together and tried to talk herself out of wanting him. She didn’t have much luck.

  Alec wasn’t saying anything, either, and even his silence was sexy. Because they weren’t carrying on a conversation, Molly was more aware of his breathing. She had a sudden and powerful image of what it would be like to be lying next to him after…. Her fingers tightened, and she glanced out the window, forcing herself to think of something else, anything else—the budding trees beside the turnpike, the clouds sailing briskly overhead, the flow of traffic down the black ribbon of road.

  The trip was an endless exercise in self-control set to a sound track of smoky jazz, but eventually they reached the outskirts of the city, and Molly’s thoughts shifted to the appointment with Benjamin. Sexual arousal gave way to a case of nerves.

  Alec lowered the volume on the CD player. “So where are we going?”

  “Midtown. Near Park and Fifty-seventh.” She hesitated. Not telling him anything about their destination, now that he was driving her right to the front door of the building, seemed paranoid. “I have an eleven-thirty appointment with my agent.”

  Alec nodded. He didn’t ask what kind of agent. “Lunch?”

  “No, it won’t include lunch. I should be finished by twelve-thirty. If you don’t mind, maybe we can pick up something to eat on the way home.” Right now she had no interest in food, but by then she might be hungry. She hoped she’d be hungry, because that would mean the appointment had gone well.

  “Sounds like a plan.” Alec’s expression remained neutral.

  All the questions he wasn’t asking hung between them, and she was beginning to feel silly for being so secretive. She couldn’t talk about the ghostwriting, but this appointment wasn’t connected to that. And after all, he was driving her to Benjamin’s office and picking her up again.

  Still, no one knew about this project except Benjamin, and she was afraid to talk about it and risk jinxing herself. On the way back to Old Saybrook, though, she’d have a tough time staying silent, especially if Benjamin raved about her writing.

  She settled on a compromise. “I’ll tell you what this is all about on the way home, okay?”

  He glanced at her as if taken aback. “You will? Why?”

  “Because I doubt if I’ll be able to keep it to myself.”

  “Then if you’d ridden the train, you would have collared the nearest passenger and blabbed to them?”

  Her laugh released some of her nervous energy. “Probably.”

  “Then I guess I should feel lucky that we missed the train.” He sounded irritated.

  Whoops. “Look, Alec, I realize I haven’t revealed much about myself in the time we’ve known each other, but—”

  “You’re not required to reveal anything about yourself, Molly. I apologize for taking that tone. I’m your chauffeur, and what you choose to tell me or not tell me is entirely up to you.”

  “Now you’re upset.”

  He sighed. “Only with myself. I’ve known from the beginning that you weren’t chatty. And I am.”

  “Not today.”

  “Well, I got to thinking that I’ve probably been boring you. I’ll bet you didn’t want to hear—”

  “I’ve loved hearing all about your family,” she said softly.

  “You’re being polite.”

  “No, I’m serious. I don’t have any good stories like that.” His normal childhood and his adventures with his younger sister made her green with envy.

  “Oh, God. Please don’t tell me you’re an orphan.”

  “No. But my upbringing was…different.”

  “And you don’t want to talk about it.”

  “It’s better if I don’t.” She’d discovered a long time ago that nothing good came of telling people her dad was Owen Drake, one of Hollywood’s top directors, and her mother was Cybil O’Connor. If fans remembered Cybil O’Connor at all, it was for a spectacular nude scene in The Haunted Lagoon, a movie released twenty-eight years ago. After that, she’d given up acting to become Mrs. Owen Drake and mother to Molly Drake. Molly had always felt the weight of that sacrifice.

  She’d also learned that mentioning her parents usually brought out intense curiosity, and people tended to forget their manners in the quest for insider dirt. Maybe Alec wouldn’t pump her for information about big stars, or mention her mother’s infamous nude scene. Knowing Alec, he really wouldn’t react that way. Still, Molly liked being anonymous for a change, and moving from L.A. to Connecticut had allowed her to separate herself from that high-pressure, glitzy world.

  Alec cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t do this, but I have one question about you, and it’s killing me.”

  She braced herself. “Only one?”

  “Okay, more than one, but this certain one—let’s just say my buddy Josh got me to thinking, and I can’t get the question out of my head.”

  “Is Josh the driver I met when you gave him a ride?”

  “Yeah, when his limo broke down outside New Haven.”

  Molly remembered a wiry guy with curly black hair. Josh always seemed to be in motion. “A high-energy type.”

  “That’s the one. Anyway, you don’t have to answer, but if you could say yes or no, it would mean a lot to me.”

  “You sound as if this has been keeping you up at night.”

  Alec coughed. Then he coughed again, and the tips of his ears grew pink. “Uh, no, not really.”

  She couldn’t make sense of his reaction until she replayed what she’d said. You sound as if this has been keeping you up at night. When she realized the potential double meaning, heat rushed to her face, too. “Wait a minute. I wasn’t trying to be—”

  “Are you in the movies?”

  Startled, she laughed. She was so not in the movies. Her parents had wanted that more than anything, and she’d tried. But an introverted little bookworm, no matter what she looked like on the outside, couldn’t expect to make it on the big screen, even with a stage-door mommy and a stage-door daddy.

  “Are you?”

  She smiled at him. This conversation was helping her case of nerves. “Well, you caught me. I’m not Molly Drake at all. I’m really Nicole Kidman trying to escape the paparazzi.”

  “Um, I didn’t mean that kind of movie.”

  “Then what—” Her mouth dropped open. Alec was asking her if she acted in adult videos.

  “But I’ll bet Josh has it all wrong.”

  At first she was insulted that Alec would think it was remotely possible that she was a porn star. He should know her better than that. Or should he? She hadn’t talked about herself, which left room for all kinds of speculation. Apparently Josh and Alec thought she looked sexy enough to act in those videos, which intrigued her. “You said I didn’t have to answer, right?”

  “Of course you don’t have to answer, but—”

  “So I’m not going to.” Then she watched the pink that had tinge
d his ears make its way over his entire face. Darting a glance into his lap, she discovered that the image of her as an X-rated video star was having quite an effect on him there, too.

  His voice sounded strangled. “So you are.”

  “I didn’t say that.” This was fascinating, and it definitely kept her mind off her anxiety-producing appointment with Benjamin.

  “Yeah, but not answering is the same as answering.”

  “Not necessarily.” She wondered what he’d do if she put a hand on his thigh, but she didn’t want them to have an accident.

  “Now I wish I hadn’t asked.” He swallowed. “I thought you’d say no.”

  “That’s no fun.”

  “Oh, so you really aren’t, but you want me to think you are?”

  Highly entertained, she continued to smile at him. “What do you think?”

  He gripped the steering wheel and stared at the road ahead. “I think I just got myself into a heap of trouble.”

  2

  ALEC NEEDED A COLD SHOWER, but that wasn’t possible, so he casually adjusted the air-conditioning vent so it blew directly on his lap. He’d been worried that the X-rated video question would insult Molly, but at least then he’d have had his answer. She wasn’t insulted. She was taking the Fifth.

  Even if he hadn’t studied law, he’d still know that anybody who refused to answer was most likely hiding something. So she really could be a star of those movies. He wasn’t proud of his reaction to the news, either. Damned if he wasn’t rising to the occasion.

  She could also be teasing him. That concept didn’t improve his condition at all. A woman willing to kid around about something like that would be the kind of bed partner he’d always dreamed of, someone who liked to have fun with sex instead of making it into a serious business. She was either an X-rated movie star or a sexy little tease. Both possibilities had him so turned on he could barely drive the car.

  But that’s what she was paying him to do, and he’d better stop fantasizing about her naked body or they’d find themselves in a ten-car pileup in Midtown. He glanced over at her, trying to decide if she was kidding him or not.

  She just smiled, as if watching him squirm was giving her great pleasure. She certainly didn’t dress as if she made that kind of movie. Sure, her skirt was on the short side, but it belonged to a black silk suit that looked more Glamour than Playboy. His sister subscribed to Glamour, and she’d be very impressed with the outfit Molly was wearing.

  Then again, an X-rated star wouldn’t necessarily dress the part when she wasn’t in front of the camera. Molly’s outfit didn’t tell him much except that she had good taste in clothes. Damn, he didn’t know what to think. And with a large portion of his blood draining south, he didn’t have much left to power his brain, anyway.

  Somehow he managed to follow Molly’s directions and get her to the right address. He even remembered to give her his cell-phone number so that she could call him when she was finished. Then, like an idiot, he sat and watched her go into the building. If he hadn’t been startled out of his trance by blaring horns and New York–style swearing, he might have stayed right there until she showed up again.

  Humbled by what a complete moron he’d turned into, he drove to the nearest parking garage, found a space and leaned back against the headrest with a sigh. He never should have asked her. Instead of satisfying his curiosity, she’d made herself more mysterious and fascinating than ever. His overheated brain buzzed with thoughts of Molly, sex kitten. Something told him he wouldn’t get much studying done in the next hour.

  MOLLY SAT in the red leather chair in Benjamin’s office. Her manuscript, bound by a thin rubber band, lay on the desk between them. Benjamin gazed at her from behind his thick glasses. His gray hair was carefully combed. He wasn’t smiling.

  Looking at him, Molly decided she didn’t want to talk about the manuscript. She might not ever want to talk about the manuscript. “It really feels like spring out there,” she said. “I didn’t even need a coat. Is it usually this warm in April?”

  “Not usually. Listen, I’ve read your manuscript, and I—”

  “I’ve never spent a whole summer in this area. I’m looking forward to walking on the beach, buying produce from roadside stands, getting a—”

  “Molly, I’m sorry.”

  She felt as if someone had shoveled ice cubes into her stomach. “The book, um, needs work?” She cleared her throat. “That’s okay. I can—”

  “I wish I could believe that you can fix it.”

  She stared at him. “Of course I can fix it! I’m a professional writer, so tell me what needs to be done, and I’ll do it.” Maybe this was a nightmare and she’d wake up. She pinched her arm, but nothing changed. She was still sitting in a chair across from a very sad-looking, gray-haired agent who didn’t like her book.

  “I assume that you want this to be a hot read about a woman exploring her sexual fantasies.”

  “Well, that’s sort of what I was going for.” And Benjamin didn’t think she’d pulled it off. She swallowed. Life didn’t get much more hideous than this, having a middle-aged man tell you that when it came to sex, you just didn’t get it. Benjamin’s blue eyes looked huge and filled with sympathy. She didn’t want sympathy. She wanted the New York Times bestseller list with Molly Drake in the top ten.

  “It’s not sexy,” he said, putting an unnecessary point on what had been, up to now, merely hinted at.

  She winced. But hey, what did Benjamin know, anyway? He’d been married since Nixon was president. He probably couldn’t remember what sex was like!

  Benjamin folded his hands and leaned toward her. “I don’t think writing about sex is your strong point. The cozy mysteries you’ve been writing for Dana—that’s where you need to put your energy. They don’t require any sex.”

  “I’m sick of writing cozy mysteries!”

  “Then maybe you need a break. You’ve been turning out those books for Dana faster than you should. I can have that August deadline moved, if you want me to. Dana’s established, now, so you can—”

  “That’s exactly it.” Molly hadn’t realized how much this manuscript meant to her until now, when Benjamin seemed ready to dump it in his stylish trash can. “Dana’s established. I’m not. I’m grateful for her, grateful for the money, but I want to publish something under my own name.”

  Benjamin sighed and leaned back in his chair. “You’re in a catch-22, then, because it can’t be anything similar to what you’re writing for her. There’s that non-compete clause in the contract.”

  Molly gestured toward the manuscript on his desk. “That’s not similar.”

  “No. But if you’d hoped to leap to another genre, I’m afraid you didn’t quite succeed.”

  Her heart was beating like a jackhammer. She wanted to believe that Benjamin didn’t know what he was talking about, but he had some clients who wrote hot books. Obviously he didn’t think she fit in with those authors. Later on she’d probably cry about this, but right now she was too busy fighting for her creative life to cry. “I’ll rewrite the love scenes.”

  “I don’t know if that will work.”

  “Of course it will. I thought they were sexy enough, but apparently I was wrong. I’ll do something about that.”

  He gazed at her for several long seconds. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll probably say it wrong, but the manuscript reads as if the author doesn’t have much experience with the concept of sexual adventure.”

  She sat in stunned silence.

  “That’s why I doubt you can fix it,” he added gently. “Again, my advice is to stick with the cozy mysteries. Let’s face it, Molly, you’re a cautious person, a basically introverted person, which many writers are. This kind of book just isn’t you. Cozy mysteries fit you perfectly.”

  Molly’s ears rang as blood rushed to her head. This was unacceptable. This was totally unacceptable. How ironic that Alec half believed that she was an X-rated video star and Benjamin saw her as introv
erted and sexually timid. She wasn’t sexually timid! She just…okay, maybe she was a wee bit cautious when it came to sex, but she was far from a virgin.

  She hadn’t had much experience because she hadn’t relished having her sexual exploits splashed all over the tabloids. As a result, she might have reined herself in too much. But under the right circumstances, she was certainly capable of throwing caution to the winds and grabbing life by the cojones. If that would inspire better sex scenes, she’d do it.

  “Of course, I’ll send it out if you insist,” Benjamin said. “You have the final say-so.”

  “No.” Molly stood and plucked the manuscript from his desk. The rubber band broke, and she had to grab the stack of pages with both hands to keep them from scattering all over Benjamin’s tidy office. “I’ll take what you said under advisement.”

  Benjamin stood, too. “Molly, do you know how many writers would kill to be in your shoes? Not very many people make a living at writing, you know.”

  “I do know.” She stuffed the manuscript into her shoulder bag. Once she got it home she’d treat it more carefully, like the wounded child it was, but for now she wanted to make her exit. “I’m grateful for the chance Dana’s given me. But I will publish something under my own name.”

  “I’m sure you will.” Benjamin was old enough to be her father and unfortunately he was beginning to sound uncomfortably like a father. “You just need to find the right vehicle.”

  “I just need to find more sex!” The moment the words came out, Molly blushed. But it was true. And she needed to work on controlling that blush if she intended to reinvent herself.

  Benjamin looked uncomfortable. “Wait a minute, Molly. Don’t think for a minute that I’m advocating that you—”

  “I don’t think that.”

  He continued to eye her uneasily. “People can’t change their basic personality, and if they try, they can get into big trouble.”

  “Absolutely.” Except her personality wasn’t quite as basic as Benjamin thought. Maybe she needed more knowledge, but she’d loved putting together that book, amateurish as it might have turned out to be. She was a sexual diamond in the rough. And she had some ideas as to how to acquire that all-important polish.