9 1/2 DAYS    ISBN 0-373-79164-X   November 2004
copyright 2004 Mia Zachary and Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.
CHAPTER ONE

     “Did you find everything you need?”

Jordan Gregory snapped shut the book she held as her heart plunged into her stomach. Pulse tripping erratically, she turned her head toward the source of the question. Didn’t it just figure? The only young, handsome employee in all of Barnes & Noble and he had to be the one to bust her.

She pressed the front cover against her chest to hide the title as heat rushed to her face. Was it possible to actually die of embarrassment? She managed to paste on a smile for the cute book clerk.

“Yes. I mean, no. I’m just browsing.”

Humor gleamed in his large brown eyes as he glanced at the book jacket. Then he offered her a knowing grin. Too late she realized. Damn. The title was printed on the back cover as well as the front.

“Let me know if you have any questions, ma’am.”

Jordan wasn’t sure if that was a criticism or a come on, but she thanked him just the same and waited impatiently for him to move along. Her eyes darted around the bookstore. She hoped no one else in the Thursday lunchtime crowd noticed her standing in the Sex & Relationships aisle, practically drooling all over Fifty Fast Fantasies.

Hot blood thudded along her veins and she imagined smoke emanating from inside her jade green suit as a heavy ache settled between her thighs. She didn’t normally read books like this, let alone follow the instructions. But she wanted to experience the kind of passion and spontaneity that Fifty Fast Fantasies promised.

The one time she’d had sex with her ex-boyfriend, David, had been a complete disaster. Even now, Jordan shuddered to remember how clumsy and self-conscious she’d been. By the time she’d forced herself to relax, it was already over. The whole experience had left her unsatisfied and unsure of herself.

She saw the cute clerk coming around the corner again and ducked into the reference section. There was only one other person near the crossword puzzle dictionaries and foreign language tapes. Jordan turned her back to the woman and randomly opened the book again. Wow. She hadn’t realized how many ways you could use non-dairy whipped topping.

She flipped back to the table of contents. Just reading the introduction to the sexual guidebook had scorched her white silk blouse. Chapter descriptions like ‘Ahoy Big Pirate’; ‘French Maid Service’; ‘Great! The Outdoors’, and ‘Mirror Mirror on the Wall’ were enough to make her spontaneously combust.

     Maybe if she tried out some of these fantasies, if she learned some tricks to make herself sexy and desirable, she could convince David to try again. Six weeks ago her ex-boyfriend had gently suggested some time apart to think about what they wanted. Jordan thought that time apart was at the heart of their problems but hadn’t argued, believing the fault lay with her and her inexperience.

      But she had to try and win David back. Fast.

Pretend to be a pirate’s wench or a sexy dominatrix? The very idea was daunting. She never imagined herself going to this kind of extreme, but desperate times required drastic actions. At this point she would do almost anything to convince David to grant her this favor. Anything to have him look at her with something more than kindness in his gaze.

Maybe then the little voice in the back of her head, the one that whispered she was making a mistake, would shut up.

“Huh. Ah. Tuh. Hot. I know that word!” A rosy-cheeked cherub gazed up at Jordan with innocent blue eyes. “And the next word is Ss. Eh--”

Jordan moved her book out of sight before the little girl could figure out how to pronounce the letter X. She contorted her stiff features into a brief smile. “Isn’t your mommy looking for you, sweetie?”

“Nope. She’s right over there.” The girl skipped toward the woman by the dictionaries. “Mama, what does ‘sex’ mean?”

Jordan backed away from the heat of the woman’s glare and fled the reference section. She was never shopping at this place again.

As she moved through the store, the bright covers of the fashion and gossip magazines caught her attention. She averted her gaze, but it was too late. The jolt of ugly emotions stabbed her in the gut. She wouldn’t look. She wouldn’t. Jordan shoved her guilty secret to the back of her mind and kept walking.

Waiting her turn near the checkout, the latest issue of Baltimore Magazine caught her eye. David was on the front beneath a headline that read, ‘Legal Eagles: The Best 30 Lawyers in the City’. He looked tall and confident in his charcoal pinstriped suit. The cream-colored shirt and red paisley tie complimented the rich cappuccino tones of his skin. Sunlight from his large office window shone on his dark curls and rivaled the brightness of his wide smile.

David was perfect. He was handsome, successful, intelligent and considerate. What more could a woman ask for?

How about a man who actually lights your fire instead of blowing it out? How about hot, sheet-soaking sex instead of chaste kisses and friendly hugs?

David had ambitions to be the youngest Partner at Chase, Behr & Lily, the law firm where they both worked. He put in a lot of hours at the office and often traveled. When he was available, they’d gone out to firm dinners, client parties or charity functions. Rarely had they spent time alone.

     Jordan raised her left hand, angling the back until the florescent light caught the half-karat solitaire on her third finger. Everyone in her family had been delighted when she started a promising relationship with such a perfect guy. They were downright ecstatic when she’d bragged to her cousin that David had proposed.

     Too bad she’d lied about the whole thing.

     Her fiancé was actually her ex-boyfriend and the solitaire was only a ‘friendship ring’. She’d bought it herself with David’s credit card. He hated shopping and told her it was the only way she was certain of getting exactly what she wanted.

     What she wanted was a real man in her life, instead of a lie that was guaranteed to ambush her at some point.

     She glanced at her watch and winced. She had to get back to the office to meet with her client, Susan Brandywine. The local news anchor wanted Jordan to handle a wrongful discharge lawsuit.

     Clutching Fifty Fast Fantasies a little tighter in her damp grasp, she hurried over to the checkout before she changed her mind. That little voice was whispering to her again, warning that her seduction plan was not a good idea. Jordan ignored it.

*    *     *

Two days later, Jordan just wanted to go back upstairs and put on her clothes. Instead, she was parading around in a red silk nightgown and an ankle-length lace cover up. Underneath, she wore a pair of red bikini panties. How could anyone feel sexy with these little scraps of silk creeping into places they didn’t belong?

While she hoped the peignoir set made her appear sexy and provocative, she was afraid she only looked awkward and overweight. And she couldn’t leave. She was trapped by family obligation and a crush of people in the Belle Fleur Atrium of Baltimore’s esteemed St. Charles Hotel.

She still couldn’t figure out how her older sister had talked her into playing an active role in this lingerie show.  Well, that wasn't entirely true. She remembered a lot of pleading, begging and low-balance checkbook waving.

Camryn had recently ended her career as a houte couture supermodel. A chance meeting with Mason Rowling-Shays, III, heir to the department store chain, had led to creating her own line of intimate wear, Boudoir Allure Designs. But she’d used what little money she had saved over the years to get the fledgling business off the ground.

Jordan had been more than happy to help her sister coordinate this all-important first presentation. Camryn’s future depended on the success of the show. Then one of the models had cancelled at the last minute and her sister was frantic for a full figured replacement.

But Jordan wasn’t about to have her soft curves measured against the willowy size six mannequins her sister had recruited. She’d compromised by agreeing to circulate through the after-show reception in the modest red peignoir set.

Modest by comparison to some of Camryn’s other designs. She still felt exposed in the audacious gown with its low cut bodice and thigh high split. Only the hot flush of embarrassment kept her from getting frostbite as she wandered through the Atrium. But she’d never been able to refuse her family anything. So here she was, half-clothed and completely uncomfortable.

Jordan shivered as goose bumps marched along her arms. To counter the record high temperatures outside, the hotel’s over-eager ventilation system blasted air in frigid gusts. The burbling of the indoor fountain mingled with the din of a hundred voices, making it impossible to do more than smile and nod as she moved about the room.

Several magazine editors stopped to admire her outfit. She obediently turned in a tight circle, allowing yet another group of fashionistas to coo over the delicate lace embroidery of her gown. One man wore a press pass and a leering smirk, not bothering to hide the fact that he’d noticed the cold air’s effect through the delicate material.

Jordan tried to pull the edges of the robe across her hardened nipples, but the little cover up wouldn’t cover a damned thing. With a faltering smile, she settled for crossing her arms over her breasts. The group moved on to critique another outfit and she continued to fulfill her promise to Camryn.

Her sister was, and always would be, the golden ideal she could never attain. Growing up in Camryn’s svelte shadow hadn’t been easy. Chubby and shy, she’d wanted so badly to be included in her sister’s charmed circle but, knowing she could never fit in, she’d found solace in food.

Any kind of food. Every kind of food.

She often wondered if there’d been a switch at the hospital where she was born. Her parents, sister and two brothers were all attractive, outgoing, charismatic. And then there was her. The ugly duckling in the middle...

     Enough was enough. She had to go and put on a real pair of panties. The noise level and the glass of champagne she drank for courage had given her a slight headache. The reception didn’t look like it would be winding down anytime soon, but she doubted she’d be missed.

She judged the distance to the makeshift dressing rooms and decided the exit would be closer. With one last glance at her sister, Jordan slipped through the crowd toward the bank of elevators just beyond the doors. The concourse level of the hotel was deserted. Her sequined sandals clicked like castanets as she marched across the marble floor.

     Jordan ignored the open stares of two men leaving the one available elevator and stepped inside, shoulders hunched and arms across her cleavage. Though she looked down, concentrating on the pattern of the tile, she couldn’t block the sound of the men’s murmured appraisals of her breasts.

     “Wow! Those cups really runneth over.”

     “I’d love to cuddle up on her pillows tonight.”

She blushed, both embarrassed and yet a little flattered by the attention. It was always like this, a mixture of shame and pride that left her confused, wishing men wouldn’t stare at her chest. Mercifully, the doors slid shut as she selected the button for the twelfth floor. With a bump and a groan, the elevator began its reluctant ascent. The hotel manager must have made good on his promise to have the problem fixed. No one else got on at the subsequent floors, so she was left alone with her thoughts.

Ever since buying Fifty Fast Fantasies, she felt as though her nerves endings had been electrified. Jordan closed her eyes and dared to stroke her hands over the silk covering her sides and down to her hips. The smooth material skimmed her bare flesh, setting off sparks that told her she was in sore need of physical affection. Her whole being seemed to be in a heightened state of awareness. The slightest stimulation made her tingle all the way to her thighs...

She opened her eyes and sighed. Her body was crying out for attention. Her seduction plan just had to work. She and David saw each other at the law firm, of course, and he was warm and caring and friendly. However, friendship and time apart was definitely not what she needed.

     Suddenly, the elevator jerked to a stop and Jordan fell off of her open-backed sandals, bumping her shoulder against the wood-paneled wall. She looked up at the display to find both the number seven and number eight lit. Damn.

She pushed the button for the twelfth floor and waited, but nothing happened. She pressed it again, this time holding it for few seconds. Still nothing. Damn, damn, damn. She started jabbing the buttons for every other floor, one at a time, but they didn’t even light up. Next she tried pushing them two at a time- Whoa.

The whole panel was now glowing like a Christmas tree, but the elevator still didn’t move. Irritation gave way to alarm so she slapped one palm against the knob with the bell symbol printed on it. The shrill clanging echoed in the small space, not a good thing when she already had a headache.

The sound faded to a metallic ringing in her ears as the air conditioner suddenly shut off. Not a bad thing. At least now she wouldn’t freeze to death. She would just plunge to the basement, trapped inside a cold metal box with her boobs hanging out of her sister’s red silk nightgown.

Frantic now, she punched all of the buttons over and over again, searching for a pattern that would get this damned thing moving! The elevator jerked again and her shoulders sagged in relief. Then everything went still and silent once more.

Oh my God. Oh my God. She was alone. Completely alone. In a stalled elevator. With no way out and no way to call for help...

     “Help! Somebody. Anybody. Help!”   

The phone! Didn’t these things come with phones? Shaking her head for not thinking of it sooner, she fumbled with the small handle until she felt the compartment door release. Jordan lifted the receiver with a shaking hand. She listened for a dial tone, or better yet, another voice.

“Hullo?”

“Yes! I’m here.” She ignored the break in her voice and gave a nervous laugh. “I mean, I’m stuck. I’m in the elevator near the Atrium, somewhere around the seventh floor.”

“Are you hurt?”

She clenched the phone a little tighter. “No, just a little uneasy.”

“Okay, hon. Fire department’s on the way, but it could take ‘em a while to get to you.”

“How long is a while?” she yelped.

“Dunno. Couple of power grids have gone down already and--” Jordan looked up as the lights overhead flickered once. Twice. “Looks like we’re next. Just sit tight and relax. Somebody’ll get to you soon as they can.”

Her knees buckled and her legs gave out at the same time the lights did. Relax? Relax? Her fingers went numb, dropping the receiver to dangle from its plastic cord, as reality slapped her in the face. She was alone. Completely alone. In a stalled elevator. With no way out. In the dark.

Don’t panic. There’s no need to panic. She forced a deep, calming breath in through her nose. The elevator would start moving any second now. At any moment. Really soon. Jordan hissed the breath she’d been holding through her clenched teeth.

So much for not panicking.

She gulped, even though her mouth had gone desert dry. Her heart stammered in her chest as the blood from her head drained into it. Sitting on the floor, the hard marble tiles icy against her almost bare bottom, she gasped for air. What happened to the air? Suddenly it was stuffy. Warm and stuffy and hard to breathe.

Omigod. Omigod. She was going to suffocate before she plunged to the basement in a hot metal box with her butt hanging out of her flimsy excuse for underwear. The more she panicked, the more she hyperventilated. And the more she hyperventilated, the more she feared she would suck all of the remaining oxygen out of the elevator.

She couldn’t see her hands in front of her face as she dropped her head into her palms. Jordan had heard the term ‘total darkness’ before, but never fully understood it until now. Squeezing her eyes shut, the first tears slipped from beneath her lashes.

     Fear like she’d never known before, hot black airless fear, evaporated her common sense and her crying became hysterical. If she had to die, she didn’t want her twisted broken body to be found wearing a red nightgown and bikini panties.

Jordan thought about her last thought. Even terrified and miserable, the irony wasn’t lost on her. She was dressed in intimate wear but had never actually been intimate. Oh, sure, she’d had sex, but it hadn’t been worth repeating. And now she was going to die a semi-virgin without ever having a real orgasm.

Omigod, she was going to die.

     She cried harder, gulping in hot, stagnant air between sobs. If, by some miracle, she lived through this, she wasn’t going to waste any more time. She’d have sex and lots of it. She would try every conceivable position. She’d play sex games and buy toys...

Well, maybe not toys. After insisting the bedroom lights stay off the one time she was with David, she probably wasn’t ready for toys.

First, though, she had to get out of here. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she tipped her head back and took a deep, deep breath. “Heeellllpp!”

     “Hang on, ma’am! We’re coming to get you out.”

     A voice in the darkness! It sounded like salvation. It sounded like hope. It sounded like a man.

From the book 9 1/2 DAYS by Mia Zachary
Imprint and Series: Harlequin Blaze; Publication Date: November 2004
Copyright © 2003 by Mika Boblitz; ® and T are trademarks of the publisher.
 The edition will be published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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