Sexy muscular hunk and bachelor-in-a-relationship Jud Carlsen held his wounded arm. As a sudden rapid knock smote his penthouse door, he maintained his gaze on the Romanian Intelligence agent, Sorin Surdul, and on the gun still pointed his way.
Unnerved after his accidental shot, Agent Sordul said, “Send your caller away, Carlsen. Act as if nothing is wrong.”
Deciding that whoever was on the other side of the door had to be less dangerous than Sordul, Jud opened it without hesitation, but only slightly. Surprised to see his elusive married neighbor, the beautiful sexy Sylvie Bardot, he kept his expression even as he said, “Sylvie… hello. What is it?”
Agent Sordul felt his knees go weak. He had seen many Sylvie Bardot films- and pleasured himself with the hot actress in mind countless more times. He almost hoped Jud would invite her in.
Staring at Jud through the narrow gap between the door and jamb, Sylvie noted his open shirt and dishevelment. As she stared at his muscled chest, she said in her breathy movie-star voice, “Hello, Jud. I heard a sound like a gunshot. I almost called security but my friends said it was from outside. Did you hear anything?”
“I wasn’t paying attention.”
“You look pale. Are you all right?”
“Yes, thanks, Sylvie.” Jud started to close the door.
“Do you have a few moments?”
“Not right now. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Then I’ll call you. You know what I want.”
“If you mean selling the crucifixion story, I’m not interested, Sylvie.”
“We can at least talk about it. Surely you can spare a few minutes now.” Sylvie speedily added, “My production company will film a true account-.”
“This isn’t a good time.”
“You aren’t going to bed, are you? It’s barely evening.”
“Yes, I am.” Jud started to close the door again.
“Don’t you close the door on me, Jud Carlsen. At least tell me goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Sylvie.” Jud closed the door.
Sylvie stood outside and wondered what had just happened. Jud had barely opened his door to her; he had treated her as if she were a pest. She walked to the universal elevator and pressed the Down button. The door opened immediately. But feeling an irresistible urge, Sylvie pivoted and headed for Jud’s door. She was about to knock when the door handle jiggled and she heard a man’s voice with a foreign accent.
From inside, with his hand on the door handle, Agent Sordul was saying, “Good job, Carlsen. I’ll let you know if I need anything more from you.” He opened the door and was stunned to be facing Sylvie Bardot. He pulled a handkerchief to his mouth and said, “Excuse me.” He closed the door behind him as he brushed past the actress. As he strode away, he glanced back and mind-stripped the tall, supple blonde sex goddess with the siren-like face. As he stepped backward into the waiting elevator, he saw her knock on the door. Certain that Jud would not answer, Agent Sordul let the elevator door close.
Sylvie felt the foreign man’s gaze disappear as she turned the door handle to Jud’s penthouse. It wasn’t locked. She pushed the door open and stood there. She watched the sexy American author stride toward her, taking in his six-pack abs and the fit of his trim trousers that sat low on his slim hips and clung to muscled legs. She knew he would close the door in her face. So, she swiftly pushed the door farther open, stepped inside, closed it behind her, and said, “You’re bleeding.” She nodded toward his sleeve with the cluster of holes and spots of blood. She asked, “What happened?”
Jud stared at the sex goddess, whose white filmy dress whispered of the actress’s every curve and hinted at her secret private place.
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