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

"I laughed. I sighed.  I wanted Trevor Vanden Bosch to come rewire MY basement.  WOMAN ON TOP is a winner!"---Julie Miller, National Readers' Choice Award-winning author.

"If you like fun, sexy romance, you'll love WOMAN ON TOP by talented new author Sherry James. I couldn't put it down!"---Kate Donovan, award-winning author of the SPIN series from Silhouette Bombshell.

CHAPTER TWO

“Fabio doesn’t like to have to lift his legs very high,”
Mrs. Reginald Whitcomb said.

Trevor stared at the eccentric woman and the buff
colored toy poodle she held as if they’d both grown three
heads. She looked as though she’d just stepped off the
set of Green Acres. Here it was after three in the afternoon
and she wore a filmy pastel green evening gown.

Her silvery-blonde hair was piled high atop her head in a
style that went out decades ago, and she wore rings that
must have weighed a ton. The only difference between
Ms. Reginald Whitcomb and Lisa Douglas was, Lisa
Douglas was nice. This woman wasn’t.

The poodle growled and shook in the lady’s arms as
if he were freezing. Fabio’s big as marbles brown eyes
looked as though they never stopped watering. Maybe
the dog had allergies.

“Excuse me?” Trevor managed to say without sounding
like a complete idiot.

“I said, be careful not to put the doggie door too high.
Fabio doesn’t like to lift his legs. If you install it too
high, he won’t use the door to go out to his play yard.
He’s very sensitive, you know. I don’t want to do anything
to crush his delicate disposition.”

Play yard? What did a manic-depressive poodle the
size of a doughnut box need a play yard for? But, that
wasn’t for Trevor to debate. He was here to do a job.
And he had to do this right if he wanted to get in good
graces with Sydnie.

“Of course, Mrs. Whitcomb. I’ll make sure the door
is installed properly.”

“Fine. When you’re through, please come to my office.
It’s up those stairs and the fourth door on the left.”
She pointed to a wide curving staircase at the end of the
marble tiled hallway.

She set Fabio on the floor and together they strolled
down the hall, her heels and his polished toenails clicking
as they went. Trevor’s gaze caught a ten-times largerthan-
life painting of the poodle hanging among a gallery
of family portraits on the west wall. So, the dog
was treated to a larger portrait than the lady’s husband.

“Wonder how old man Whitcomb likes finishing second
behind a poodle?” Trevor shook his head. He couldn’t
help wondering how some people lost complete touch
with reality.

He turned his attention to the solid oak, carved door
and grimaced. What a shame to ruin such a fine piece of
craftsmanship with a doggie door. But that’s what the
lady ordered, and that was what the lady was going to
get.

Thirty-five minutes later, Trevor swept up the last of
the saw dust shavings with his hand-held vac and packed
away his tools. He gave himself a mental pat on the back.
So far so good. It was still early enough to beat the rush
hour traffic so he should make it back to Sydnie’s office
in about fifteen minutes. Once there, he’d invite her to a
quiet dinner. Then he’d lay on the charm and work on
getting some ideas.

The thought of holding Sydnie in his arms and kissing
those full, sensual lips of hers made certain parts of
his anatomy flare like a match when first lit.

He liked Sydnie. A lot, as a matter of fact. And after
seeing her again today, he wanted her in his arms now
more than ever. He just wished he could win her on his
own time, for his own reasons, and not Charles Smythe’s.
He’d have to play his cards very carefully if he hoped
to continue their relationship after this was all over.

Trevor pulled the bill out of his shirt pocket, picked
up his tool box and headed for the staircase. He took the
steps two at a time, anxious to get out of this shrine to
Fabio. He paused in front of the fourth door and knocked.

“Come in.”

Trev opened the door and immediately realized Mrs.
Whitcomb’s so-called office was her bedroom. She entered
from an adjoining room wearing a bright red
evening gown cut much lower than the first, revealing
more than he cared to see.

“I’m sorry. I must have gotten the wrong room,”
Trevor said. He quickly backed out the door, pulling it
shut as he went. But then he felt a tug and saw a handful
of lethal looking polished red fingernails grasping the
door.

“I assure you, Mr. Stud. You have the right room.”
She pursed her lips together and blew him a kiss.

Uh-oh. He was in deep trouble now.

“Please come in.” She pulled the door wide and smiled.
There was no way Trevor could miss the huge heartshaped
bed dominating the room. Red satin sheets shimmered
in the warm lighting that beamed down on the
bed like spotlights on a stage. A silver champagne bucket
and a plate of strawberries waited on ice.

His gut tightened. He was in deep, deep trouble.

“Here’s your bill, Mrs. Whitcomb,” he said in a rush,
shoving the paper into her hand. “I’m required to get a
check before I leave.”

“Very well. Business before pleasure.” She turned and
walked over to a gilded desk. The gown she wore gave
her the appearance of floating across the plush carpeting.
She pulled out a large checkbook and with a flourish
of scrolling letters, wrote the check. “There you are.”

Trevor nabbed the check and tucked it into his shirt
pocket. “Looks like you’re expecting your husband soon.
I’ll be on my way. Thank you very much, Mrs. Whitcomb.
Don’t bother showing me out. I can find my way.”

“Not so fast, Stud. We aren’t through yet.” The woman
grabbed the button of his jeans and pulled him around
to face her. She ran her hand over his chest. “My husband
is on one of his boring hunting excursions in Africa.
He won’t be home for another week.”

Trevor swallowed hard and tried to think fast. He was
in damn deep trouble here and he had the hunch he had
Sydnie to thank for it.

* * *

“So, you hired the carpenter,” Casey said as she poured
herself a glass of Chardonnay and Sydnie a beer.
Sydnie plopped down onto an overstuffed chair and
propped her stockinged feet on the coffee table. “Yeah. I
wanted to get even.”

“Even? You know this guy?” Casey handed Syd her
beer, then settled into the opposite chair and curled her
legs beneath her.

“Yes. He’s my ol’ pal from Smythe and Jones.” She
took a drink and let her head fall back on the cushiness
of the chair.

“Oh, so he’s the one.” Casey sipped her wine. “You
never told me he was so good looking.”

“Yeah, well, looks only go so far. He’s arrogant, egotistical,
and selfish. And he thinks he’s Adonis or something.
That promotion should have been mine. I worked
my butt off for it. I deserved it. And wham! The next
thing I know, he’s getting all the credit for my work.
And my promotion! Damn. My blood pressure is rising
again.” She downed a long swallow.

“Look at it this way. Maybe he did you a favor.”

“You call cheating me out of a substantial salary increase
a favor?”

“If you’d gotten the promotion, you wouldn’t be here.”
Casey raised her wine glass, indicating Sydnie’s office.
“And this beats the corporate scene any day. No more
answering to a boss. No more punching a time clock for
someone else’s benefit.”

“And no more pantyhose!” Terri chimed in as she entered
the room. She went straight to the fridge and poured
herself a soda.

“What, no alcohol tonight?” Syd asked.

“No. I’ve got a ton of data to enter into the computer
yet. I figured I’d better remain sober since this is our
pocket at stake here.” She fell into the last empty chair
and kicked off her tennis shoes. Her feet joined Syd’s on
the coffee table. “Shoot, I’m tired,” she said as she rubbed
her eyes. “So where is our new carpenter? He never
checked back in with me. You did tell him he needed to
report in after each job, didn’t you, Syd?”

“Yes, I did.” She glanced at the clock on the wall and
frowned. “And I have to admit. I’m a bit worried.”

“Worried?” Casey asked. “Why? He’s a big boy.”

“True, but Trevor should have been back over an hour
ago.”

“Maybe he went on home after he finished.”

“I suppose he could have, but I doubt it. I sent him to
Mrs. Whitcomb’s to install that doggie door.”

“Oh. Well that explains it. He’ll be lucky to leave that
house with his tool belt in one piece.”

“Why? Is the dog vicious?” Terri asked in a sudden
panic. “I don’t know if our insurance covers dog attacks!
I better pull the policy.”

“Don’t bother getting up, Terri,” Casey said, and motioned
for her friend to stay still.

“It’s Mrs. Whitcomb we’re worried about,” Syd said.
“She’s known for her bite for younger men. I can’t believe
you haven’t heard about her.”

The sound of an outer door slamming silenced the
conversation. The three women eyed each other, then
turned toward the door of the office. There stood Trevor.
His shirt was torn in shreds and bright red lipstick
smudges covered his face. And by his stance, Sydnie knew
he was mad as hell.

“I just remembered I’ve got a date tonight.” Casey
set down her glass, slipped on her sandals and hurried
from the room. “See you all in the morning.”

“I’ve got to go, too. It’s supper time for Thomas
O’Malley and he gets cranky if he doesn’t get his kitty
treats on time,” Terri said as she grabbed her shoes and
followed Casey.

Trevor slammed the door and moved to stand over
Sydnie. She saw a muscle working at his jaw. “You set me
up,” he bit out.

“I did no such thing.”

“The hell you didn’t. You knew that old lady was like
a Piranha ready to devour the flesh of any man who
walked through her wrought iron gates.”

“It was a legitimate job.” Syd got to her feet. It was
all she could do to keep from laughing at the sight of the
lipstick smeared on his face. “Whew. You need a shower,
Trev.” She waved her hand in front of her nose. “Chanel
No. 5 really isn’t your fragrance.” She walked to the bar
sink and set down her empty beer.

“Dammit, Sydnie. Admit it. You set me up.”

“I did not. The woman wanted a doggie door installed.
I figured it would be an easy job for you to get started
with. How was I to know she’d attack you?” Sydnie
shrugged and forced back a smile. It really was fun to
watch Trevor sweat.

“She took this Studs for Hire thing literally. I think
you’d best be making it clear to your clients they don’t
get extras with the handyman work.”

“Speaking of work. Did you get the door installed?”

“Yes. Fabio now has his own door at just the right
height so he doesn’t have to lift his precious little legs,”
Trev snapped.

“And did you do a good job?”

“Of course I did a good job. I’m not a schmuck.”

“I just want to make sure. Customer satisfaction is
our number one goal.”

“As far as I’m concerned, the grand madam should be
more than satisfied. We about wore a track in the carpeting
around the bed. Who knew a seventy-year-old woman
in heels could move so fast.”

“I’m glad to hear you had such a good time.” She
smiled.

“Good time? Hell. That was a nightmare.” Trevor
raked his fingers through his hair. “You wouldn’t happen
to have another beer around here, would ya?”

“In the fridge. I don’t normally allow employees such
liberties, but I’ll make an exception this time. You’ve had
a rough first day.”

Trevor scowled and popped the top on the beer bottle.
He leaned against the bar and took a long swallow. “Ahh.
I needed that.”

“Did she pay you?” she asked as she cleaned up the
assortment of take-out boxes and bags lined up on the
bar.

“Yeah. I held onto it tight as I catapulted for the stairs
in an effort to save my life.” Trevor pulled the payment
from his shirt pocket and waved it in front of Sydnie’s
nose. She moved to grab the check, but Trev snatched it
away. “I ought to get ten-times my wage for this fiasco
you put me through, Syd. Unless—” a devilish grin spread
across his face— “you personally want to make it right.”

“In your dreams, Vanden Bosch.”

He set down his beer and grabbed her hips. He pulled
her tight against him, trapping the check between his
fingers and her hipbone. “Every night,” he drawled.

The feel of his strong hands on her body sent her
pulse racing into overdrive. There went her blood pressure
again. She really needed to remember who she was
dealing with here.

“Every night?” she whispered against
his lips.

“Oh, yeah. Every night . . .” His day’s growth of beard
tickled her chin, and Sydnie forced herself to find every
ounce of resolve she possessed to break up this tryst
that was about to happen.

“Good for you.” She eased her hand down the length
of his arm and clasped his hand with her own. The
strength and power in his fingers sent her pulse racing,
but she couldn’t let the scorching heat of his skin against
hers attack her senses. She snatched the check from his
grasp, broke the embrace and backed away. “Keep right
on dreaming, Vanden Bosch, because that’s as good as
it’s going to get.”

Syd hurried to her desk and placed the check in a
money bag. She hoped she didn’t look as frazzled as she
felt. It wouldn’t do for Trevor to have any idea how he
affected her libido.

The phone rang once, twice, three times.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” he asked.

“It’s after hours. I’ll let the machine get it.” Sydnie
glanced at the caller ID. “Uh-oh.”

“What is it?”

“It’s Mrs. Whitcomb.”

“Damn. The woman doesn’t give up.”

After Sydnie’s brief message, the machine beeped and
the sex-crazed woman came on the line. “This is Mrs.
Reginald Whitcomb. I want my money back. I wasn’t
satisfied with your service. What kind of stud runs from
a woman anyway? He was supposed to chase me! I
thought sex was a part of the deal! I want my money
back, do you hear!?” A shrill series of barks punctuated
the woman’s words before the receiver went down with
a slam and the line went dead.

Sydnie shot Trevor a look that she hoped would kill.

“Thanks, Trev. We’re just getting our business started
and already I’ve got to smooth things over with an unhappy
customer. Mrs. Whitcomb knows practically every
affluent person in this city. She could ruin us in a
matter of minutes at one of her cocktail parties.”

“What about me? I’m the one who’s been violated
here. She attacked me.” Trev jabbed his thumb against
his broad chest.

“And you don’t like the way that feels do you?” Sydnie
lifted her chin and stood her ground. “Welcome to the
club.”

“Ohhh. I see where this is going. So I was right. You
did set me up. You’re still sore about me getting that
promotion.”

“I earned it, Trevor. You didn’t. All you ever did was
make my life miserable and steal the opportunity I’d been
working toward for years. Don’t you think I have a right
to be sore?”

Trevor’s gut clenched. He knew how much advancement
in the ad agency had meant to Sydnie, but there
was nothing he could do about it now. It was done, in the
past. He’d tried to explain to Smythe that Sydnie deserved
the promotion, but his chauvinistic boss wouldn’t hear
of it. Charles Smythe didn’t promote women.

“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry, Syd? It’s
just the way things worked out.”

“Sometimes sorry isn’t good enough.”

“Look. If it makes you feel any better, remember, I
ended up getting the boot, too.” Again, Trevor’s gut
clenched. He hated lying to Sydnie. She was a sweet, sexy
woman who deserved better. And right now, Trevor despised
his boss more than ever for putting him in this
damnable situation.

The phone rang, shattering the heavy silence hovering
between them. The machine beeped and a now familiar
voice came on the line.

“Have Mr. Stud come back and finish the job and I’ll
be satisfied,” Mrs. Whitcomb hollered. “If you aren’t
willing to appease me, then I’m calling the Better Business
Bureau and reporting your company.” Another bark
from the illustrious Fabio followed before the line went
dead.

Sydnie crossed her arms and shot Trevor her best,
I’m going to ring your neck, look.

Trevor groaned. What the hell had Smythe gotten
him into here?

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.