Studs For Hire: Woman on Top
Sherry James
ISBN 0-9774682-7-5

Romantic Comedy
216 paperback pages
Multi-format ebook $4.99
Paperback $11.99
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"Woman on Top" is the first book in the "Studs for Hire" series

"Woman in Charge" is the second book in "The Studs for Hire" series

CHAPTER ONE

“Sydnie, your two o’clock is here,” Casey said as she
entered her partner’s newly decorated office.”And whoa,
is he hot! He’s just what we’ve been looking for.”

“I hope you’re right. His resume certainly is impressive,”
Sydnie Riley said as she glanced over Allen Bosch’s
list of carpentry skills one more time.

“To heck with his resume.” Casey sat on the edge of
the antique oak desk. “All this guy has to do is show up
at my place in nothing but a tool belt and I’d be a satisfied
customer.”

“That nice, huh?” Syd glanced up at her friend and
smiled.

“Nice? Nice doesn’t begin to describe this guy. One
look at him and I knew I’d found my fantasy bad boy. I
wonder if he owns a Harley.”

Syd shook her head in amusement. Leave it to Casey
to check the guy out in full detail in two seconds flat.
“Well, show him in. We’ve got a long list of interviewees
this afternoon. I’d like to get some men hired as soon as
possible. Jobs are beginning to stack up on the waiting
list.”

“Did I tell you how smart you are, Syd?” Casey said as
she studied her red polished fingernails.

“Yeah, about a dozen times.” Syd laughed. The two
women were not only business partners, but best friends.
Along with their other good friend Terri Alberry, the
three always shared their hopes, dreams, and drowned
their man sorrows together in lite beer and chocolate
chip cookies. Throw in an occasional gallon bucket of
strawberry swirl ice cream, and all heartaches were forgotten.
At least temporarily.

It was only natural the trio would join forces when
they’d all had enough of the power suit, pantyhose world
that was still, in their opinions, dominated by a slew of
arrogant, egotistical, male chauvinists.

“Creating this contracting agency was ingenious. I
wish I’d thought of it.” Casey flipped her long blond
hair over her shoulder. “I mean, once word gets around,
not a single woman in Omaha is going to call the competition
when she can have her sink unclogged, or her outlet
rewired, by a handsome hunk from Studs for Hire.
We’re going to be rich.”

“Don’t start counting the George Washingtons just
yet. We’ll have a lot of expenses along the way, and payroll
will be the biggest.”

“Yes, I know. I am our accountant, remember?” Casey
plucked a candy cinnamon stick from the jar on Sydnie’s
desk. “But being surrounded by men who rival Adonis
while we wait for the money to roll in is my idea of
heaven. All we need now is to keep an endless supply of
t-bones, wine and chocolate stocked in the fridge.”

“Sounds delicious,” Syd cooed. She rose from her chair
and pulled a file from beneath Casey’s designer jean clad
bottom. “But unless you show in our first choice cut-of-the-
day, we’ll never be able to afford anything more than
an occasional mushroom burger.”

 “Say no more. I love a good steak almost as much as a
night of sultry sex.” Casey hopped off the desk and
sighed. “But if I can’t have the sex, by damn I’m going
to at least have the steak.”

Pathetic. That’s what this whole situation was. Three
grown women settling for corn-fed Nebraska beef in lieu
of steamy sex. Sydnie shook her head. Life was filled
with so many injustices.

She gathered a stack of papers from the top of her
desk and turned toward the file cabinet.

Filing. She hated it. As soon as they could afford it,
she’d hire an office girl for this stuff. Or better yet, an
office stud. A cute, sweet guy with eyes as blue as the
heartland sky outside of the Omaha city limits would
suit her fine. She’d watch for a possible candidate in the
pile of applications they’d received so far.

“Hello, Syd,” a deep voice drawled.

Sydnie’s hand stilled above the long row of manila
folders in the top drawer of the file cabinet. Her breath
caught in her throat.

She knew that voice. Knew it all too well.
But what would Trevor Vanden Bosch be doing here?
Didn’t he get enough gloating in before she was practically
forced to crawl away from the advertising firm over
a month ago?

Rounding up her courage, she turned to face the man
who’d helped rip her career dreams out from beneath her
like a zero to sixty in two-point-six-seconds sports car.
He leaned against the door jamb and folded his arms
across his broad chest. Standing there in a pair of jeans
and a snug fitting black T-shirt, the man who’d caused
her to devour two quarts of Rocky Road in one sitting,
was more handsome then ever.

“What are you doing here?” she managed to ask
around a lump in her throat.

“I’m here about a job.”

“I don’t need an advertising rep, Vanden Bosch. Contrary
to what you might think I’m quite capable of coming
up with my own ad campaigns.” She slammed the
file drawer shut. “Now if you’ll please leave, I have a two
o’clock appointment waiting.”

“I’m not here about advertising, Syd.” He shoved away
from the door and moved deeper into the room.

“Then what are you here for?” She arched a brow,
ready to battle with this guy if necessary. “Gloating is
so unbecoming. Didn’t your mother teach you that?”

“I told you. I’m here about a job. Specifically,” he said
as he pulled a folded newspaper from his back pocket
and pointed to a classified ad circled in bright red, “a
position as a carpenter.”

A burst of sarcastic laughter escaped Sydnie’s throat.
His audacity dredged up memories she’d spent the last
thirty days trying to forget with frequent, expensive, trips
to the nearest day spa.

Who did he think he was coming in here like this?
Well, he was on her turf now. And there was no way
she’d let any man mow over her again.

“I don’t have time for your B.S., Vanden Bosch. I have
someone waiting.”

“I’m your two o’clock.”

“Not unless you’ve changed your name to . . .” She
picked up the resume. “Allen Bosch . . .” her voice withered.

“At your service.” A Mel Gibson-like grin tugged at
one corner of his mouth.

She’d been duped. A new surge of anger hit her full
force. “Get out,” she said coldly.

“Now, is that anyway to treat an old friend?” he asked
as he rounded the desk and stopped in front of her. The
furniture she’d picked out with such care at Ethan Allen’s
shrank in his presence.

How could it be he seemed taller than she remembered?
It must be his boots. The soles of rugged work
boots were thicker then the dress shoes he normally wore.
And those thousand dollar suits he’d prided himself on
had nothing on the snug fitting pair of jeans he wore
now. Along with a shadow of a beard dusting his jaw,
this side of Trevor exuded a maverick sexuality she’d
never seen before.

Casey was right. Trevor was damn hot. A warm flush
prickled Sydnie’s neck as she realized she’d been sizing
him up.

“You’re not my friend. Now get out,” she said bitterly.

Angry with herself for allowing Trevor to affect her
senses, Sydnie knew she needed to get rid of him before
she did something stupid like the last time they were
together. Normally she didn’t throw herself at men, but
Trevor had a way of bringing her wild side to the surface.
She’d thrown caution to the wind before and had
dearly paid the price for such foolishness.
She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

“Look. I knew you wouldn’t see me unless I used some
kind of alias—”

“Trevor Allen Vanden Bosch. Of course.” She cringed,
wondering again how she could have let herself be fooled
so easily.

“The one and only.”

“Well, Allen.” She placed her hands on her hips and
faced him with her full five feet, six inch frame. “This
interview is over. I’m afraid the position you’re applying
for has been filled.”

“That’s not what your lovely partner told me. In fact,
she seemed certain I’d be the right man for the job.” He
smiled and that infamous dimple on his left cheek didn’t
disappoint. She had to admit that dimple was one of the
things about him she’d never forget. Well, and then there
was his coffee brown hair with that stubborn lock that
always dropped over his forehead in a rakish way. And
too, there was the way his toned muscles strained at the
fabric of his shirts. In a business suit he always looked
like the ultimate professional.
But today . . . Today he looked every bit the bad boy Casey
fantasized about.

“Are you . . . licensed?” she asked, searching for a reason
to get her mind back on track, and hopefully make
him leave. “I didn’t see anything on your resume about a
license, but then, since you lied to me to land an interview,
I’ll assume this long list of credentials is all a fabrication,
too.”

“I didn’t lie to you. I just twisted my name a little.”

“A little?” She tossed his file onto her desk and crossed
her arms, firmly putting up her defenses. “You purposefully
misled me.”

“Come on, Syd. I’m qualified for the job. Just give me
a chance to prove it.” He stepped closer. The air in the
room thickened around them. Trevor ran the pad of this
thumb along Sydnie’s jaw and her heart skidded to a halt.
Oh, boy. They were careening into the dangerous, no
return zone. She needed a serious reality check.

“You’re as hot and sexy as ever, Syd,” he said smoothly.

That did it. Time to beat him at his own game. “Yeah?
Tell me more, handsome,” she whispered and brushed
her lips against his, teasing him unmercifully. No doubt
he thought he could make her fall at his feet and forget
all about everything that had, and hadn’t, happened between
them. And truthfully, the touch of his lips against
her own just now, almost made her forget.
Big mistake. Big, big mistake.

“Save your charms for some other poor damsel,” she
said huskily. Sydnie jerked away and steeled her resolve
to keep at least a yardstick’s length of distance between
them at all times. She had every reason in the world to
despise this man. She’d best not forget it.

“Besides, why should I hire you?” she asked. “You’ve
got a job already. And don’t tell me eighty-thousand a
year isn’t enough to keep you living in high style in
Omaha and you need a second income.”

“Let’s just say I’m looking for a new challenge in life.”
He winked.

And he thought she was going to be that challenge?
Wrong. Damn the man. He looked as cool and confident
as usual.
“Ha! The only challenge you’ll find here is if you can
get through the door before the knob hits you in the
as--”

“Come on, Syd. Give me a break.”

“Look. I don’t know why you’re here, or what you’re
up to, but whatever the reason, it’s no good. Now save
me the trouble of firing you later on, and leave.”

“Dammit, Syd. I need a job,” he said with a flat tone.

“Oh?” She crossed her arms. “If you’re really desperate,
I hear the Roller Hop drive-in is hiring.” She couldn’t
stop the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“Roller skates and a chartreuse miniskirt would look fabu
lous on you, too.”

“Syd. I’m serious. I need a job.” He brushed an unruly
curl from her face. The temperature in the room soared
from his touch. The chambray shirt she’d put on over
her crop-top to ward off the early morning chill now
felt like a suffocating wool blanket.

“How dare you come in here like this! I’m in no mood
for your games. I had enough of the carnal promotional
ladder at the world renowned Smythe and Jones Ad
Agency.” She spun around, not allowing herself to look
into those dark-brown lady-killer eyes of his. The man
could be so infuriating at times. Sexy, but infuriating.

“All right.” He took a deep breath and raked his fingers
through his hair. “I got . . . fired.”

Fired? Trevor? Now that would be something to
celebrate, provided, of course, it were true. “I don’t believe
you.”

“Damn, you’re as stubborn as ever.” He rolled his eyes.
“Believe it, Syd. I’m on the street.”

“Ah, what happened? The big wigs at the Smythe and
Jones decided you weren’t worth that fancy promotion,
after all?” Sydnie couldn’t help feeling a tinge of satisfaction.

“It doesn’t matter,” he shrugged. He sat on the edge
of the desk and picked up the decorative smoke-colored
bottle Sydnie had placed next to her page-a-day woman’s
empowerment calendar.

“So why did you come here for a job? Why not go to
another agency? We’re just starting out. I can assure
you the pay is better elsewhere.” She studied him with
skepticism.

“I’ve always had a knack for working with wood. And
when I heard about your little business venture, it
sounded like a great opportunity to do something I’d
actually enjoy for a change.”

“Really? And you expect me to buy this story? For
some reason I can’t picture you taking a seventy-thousand
dollar pay cut.”

“You don’t know me very well, Syd.” The expression
covering his face was as serious as a two-dollar bill, and
to her disgust, she wanted to believe him.

Yeah, maybe she didn’t know him very well. But then,
maybe she did. A little too well. And that intimate knowledge,
combined with Sydnie’s instincts, told her Trevor
was up to something. He preferred his affluent lifestyle
too much to simply walk away from it because he needed
a change.

“Just give me a job,” he continued. I’ve got a car payment
to make. Hey.” He pulled the glass-topped cork
out of the bottle. “This looks like Jeannie’s bottle except
it doesn’t have all the decorative painting on it.” He
peered down the throat of the bottle. “There’s no couch
inside. What a bummer.”

Syd grabbed the bottle from him, replaced the topper,
and set it firmly back in its place on the desk. “So trade
off the Lexus and get a Duster like other down-on-theirluck
souls.”

“It’s nice to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor,”
he chided. “So. What’s it going to take to get you
to hire me?” He gazed at her with a smoldering intensity
that could melt the knees of a marble statue.

He stepped forward with the grace of a black panther
moving in for the kill. Standing this close, Sydnie could
smell the subtle scent of his musky cologne. She took a
deep breath, allowing herself a mere second of pleasure.
But now wasn’t the time to let this man disintegrate
her resolve. He’d shrugged off her advances before and
made a fool of her in front of her colleagues. She wouldn’t
allow it to happen again.

Besides, she had a business to run. No matter what,
she couldn’t lose sight of that fact.

“I’ll have to think about it. Give me a few weeks and
I’ll contact you.” She gave him her sexiest smile before
turning her back on him, silently dismissing him.

“Weeks? Ah, come on, Syd. I can’t wait weeks,” he
drawled. Trevor leaned casually against the file cabinet
and presented her with a look that suggested he wasn’t
just talking about a job, either. Well, he’d be waiting until
the North Pole moved South before she let him love
her and leave her. She took a deep breath and decided the
best course of action to take was simply to ignore him.

She busied herself by searching for a file—any file.
Of course, she did relish the prospect of making him
sweat. And there would be plenty of time to make Trevor
Vanden Bosch sweat under her thumb if she gave him
the job and she was his boss this time. The idea posed
major possibilities.

“Don’t make me beg,” he said. “I do have my pride.”
Was that exasperation she heard in his voice? A
grinch-like grin spread across her lips and she faced him.

“Oh, but it’s so much fun to watch a man beg for a change.
And I’m afraid if you really want to work here, you’re
going to have to do some serious begging. I’ve got more
than a hundred applications of highly qualified candidates
piled on my desk.”

“All right,” Trevor said, dropping to his knees. “You’ve
got your wish. I’m begging, Syd.” His lips were level
with the fly of her Levi’s. He glanced up at her. Desire
flamed to life in his eyes. Hot tingles raced through her
veins. She swallowed hard.

Now who was making who sweat? Remember what this
guy did to you. This could be your chance to get even.

“All right.” She stepped away for her sanity’s sake.
The cool metal of the file cabinet pressed into her back,
clashing with the heat of her skin. “You want a job so
bad. You’ve got it.”

“Great.” Trevor got to his feet. “My tools are in the
truck. I can start—”

“Under one condition.”

“And that is?”
“This is my company. What I say, goes. Under no circumstances
whatsoever shall you question me or my partners’
authority or orders. Is that clear?”

“Sure, Syd. Whatever you say. Where do you need me
to go first?”

Sydnie’s gut clenched, certain she’d made one serious
mistake here. Trevor was being far too agreeable. Either
he was working on the sly, or he’d had an out-of-body
experience and was now an alien. She sure as hell hoped
she didn’t wake up in the morning to regret this scheme
like one of her sudden, stupid urges to do a color-at-home
job on her hair.

“Let’s find out,” she said as she led the way out of her
office and to a desk in the lobby. Terri, her other partner,
sat inputting data into the computer. “Terri, we’ve got
ourselves a carpenter.”

The brunette glanced up from the computer screen
and gazed at Trevor over the top of her half-glasses.
Her mouth dropped open. She snatched off her glasses
and tossed them into a creeping philodendron adorning
one corner of her desk.

Trevor gave Terri one of his devilish smiles. She stood,
sending her chair racing backward across the floor mat.
“Oops,” she said as she grabbed the chair and wheeled it
back up to the desk.

“Are you all right?” Trevor asked with concern in his
voice.

“I’m fine.” She gave him a weak smile.

“Name’s Trevor Vanden Bosch.” He offered her a hand.

Terri wiped her palms down the length of her jeans before
accepting his gesture.

“Welcome to Studs for Hire, Trevor,” Terri said
warmly.

“Call me Trev.”

She licked her lips. “What a nice name. I had a rabbit
named Trevor once.”

“Had?” Trevor quirked a brow. He let go of her hand
and propped one lean hip on the edge of Terri’s cluttered
desk. Syd couldn’t help but notice the way his rigid
muscles strained against his tan skin. And there was no
way any male-hungry female could miss them, either.

“He passed away,” Terri continued.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I knew it was coming.”

“Had he been sick?”

“Well, yeah. He got ear mites from my neighbor lady’s
cat, and I didn’t figure out what was wrong until his equilibrium
was off. By then it was too late,” she said with a
soft sniff.

“That’s a tough break.”

“Yeah, it was. But, I’ve had lots of animals over the
years and—”

“Terri,” Syd said firmly, interrupting Trevor’s charming
session. He hadn’t changed one bit when it came to
enticing a woman into his harem. Trevor’s uncanny knack
of making a woman reveal her life history within seconds
of their first meeting, was his clever way of sneaking
under her skin. And when he did, look out. A woman
quickly lost all common sense and fell into his lap, begging
for more. “Do we have any pressing jobs we need a
carpenter for? Mr. Vanden Bosch is anxious to get
started.”

“Ah, sure. We’ve got a few,” Terri said, still distracted.

Syd frowned at the puppy dog look of longing on her
friend’s face. Great. Just great. Terri was drooling over
the man like a bloodhound over a simulated beef treat.

Enough. Syd snatched the waiting list from the desk
and scanned the dozen or so names on the paper. She
wasn’t going to send Mr. This Old House out on just
any job. No, his first job had to be the perfect job.
* * * *
Trevor’s cell phone chirped as he negotiated the truck
through heavy traffic on Dodge Street. “Vanden Bosch,”
he answered.

“Did you get it?” a deep voice asked anxiously from
the other end of the line.

“Yeah. No problem.”

“I got to hand it to you, Trev. You’re a smooth one. I
thought for sure she’d tell you to go to hell before you
could set a foot in her office.”

“Nah. Not sweet, sexy Syd,” he said with a cockiness
he didn’t feel.

“Hmph. Don’t try to bullshit me. I know damn good
and well she put up some kind of fight. Now tell me the
truth. I know our lovely Ms. Riley is a scrappin’ little
kitty.”

Trevor gritted his teeth at the suggestive remark. He’d
love nothing more than to tell Smythe where to go, but
now was not the time. He had to concentrate on negotiating
the extended cab pickup around the corner onto
Happy Hollow Boulevard. “All right. So she was a little
reluctant at first. But all that matters is I won her over
and I’m in.”

“So where are you now?”

“I’m headed for the Happy Hollow Country Club area.”

“What are you doing in the old money part of town?”

“I’ve got my first job assignment.”

“I’ll be damned. So this Studs for Hire business of
hers is already catering to the old and rich, eh?”

Trevor realized he’d reached the Country Club Avenue
intersection and slowed the no-muffler truck to a
stop. He scanned the house numbers adorning the classic
brick and stone homes. Some of them were so large
they could easily be labeled mansions. He’d been in several
of them over the last few years attending dinner
parties. But he had to admit, it felt kind of strange driving
among some of Omaha’s elite set in an orange 1975
Dodge pickup truck.

He spotted the house he searched for and pulled into
the arborvitae-lined driveway and cut the engine. The
truck belched and sputtered before finally dying completely.
“Look. I’m where I need to be. I better get up to the
front door before someone calls the cops on me.”

“Why would anyone call the police?”

“This orange bomb I’m driving isn’t exactly the automobile
of choice among Happy Hollow residents.”

“Oh, that. Well, just don’t forget who you’re really
working for here, Vanden Bosch. Remember I’m counting
on you to get the information we need. And as I said,
there will be a nice perk waiting for you at the end of the
deal if you pull this off. I don’t have to remind you what’s
at stake here.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it. I’ll get the information
we’re after.”

“That’s what I like to hear. I’ll check in with you later.”

The line went dead.

Trevor pushed the cracked white vinyl sun visor back
in place. He glanced around the truck’s interior. This
thing really was rough. It probably should have been retired
to the junk yard years ago. But Smythe was insistent
upon creating a down-on-your-luck image even
though Trevor had argued this was a little extreme.

He picked up the work order Syd had given him and
scanned down to the middle of the page where it instructed
what exactly he was going to be doing for a
Mrs. Reginald Whitcomb.

“Doggie door?” Trevor gazed up at the three story
classical style home. “This woman lives like a queen and
all she wants is a doggie door?” Trevor couldn’t help
but feel a little disappointed. He really did enjoy working
with wood, and he was hoping this first job would be
something he could do to impress Syd. He scanned the
work order again and sure enough, all it said was install
doggie door.

“This will be easy,” he mumbled as he opened the truck
door. The metal hinges creaked in agony. The door
clunked shut and he eyed the pickup with disgust and
embarrassment for his new mode of transportation. How
the hell was he supposed to convey this stud image if he
was driving a wreck? Maybe he could get Smythe to
rethink this and convince him to get a new Dodge instead.
He’d mention it later, but right now he had a doggie
door to install.

This little job shouldn’t take more than half an hour
and then he’d get back to where he needed to be.
Bewitching Sydnie.

Has Elvis really left the building…or is his spirit playing matchmaker?

Alex Roy is used to building classy timber frame homes for the elite, but his last business association with a woman left him in debt and his heart in shreds.  Is he so desperate to earn a paycheck and reclaim his business that he'll swallow his pride and design a shrine to the King of Rock 'n' Roll in a widow's mansion?  And what about Casey Burrows, the woman who wants to hire him to do the job for the wealthy widow?  Alex has an eye for good lines—and Casey's are curving in all the right places.  But can he handle the job and walk away with his heart and reputation unscathed?  Or will he end up as a permanent resident of Heartbreak Hotel?

Are You Lonesome Tonight…the classic Elvis song seemed to be the story of Casey Burrows' love life.  As co-owner for Studs for Hire she's got a great career—now she needs a man who will truly love her and not leave her with a shattered heart, and a maxed out credit card.  When she meets Alex, she's determined to keep their relationship strictly business, but she soon discovers immortalizing Elvis in Omaha isn't the only project she'd like to undertake.  Alex rocks her predictable world and Casey discovers she’s ready to risk her heart one more time.