His respiration quickened. “Well. Good night then.” He turned to go.
“You’re wondering . . .”
He shouldn’t have paused as she spoke, but he did.
“ ... who paid me to try and seduce you.”
Carson turned his head, looked directly at her to examine her expression, her eyes, for some indication of precisely what the lady was up to. To spot the deception.
“Or”—she lifted her shoulders in the barest of shrugs—“you’re wondering just how much a night with a woman like me would cost.And if it would be worth the price.” The challenge in her voice, in her eyes, coerced him into once more abandoning his plan to just walk away. Experience told him he would regret that flaw in his personality. He never could resist a challenge.
“Prostitution is illegal in this state,” he reminded her, though he suspected this woman was no hooker. She had an objective. She wanted to play. With him. The only remaining issue was the source of her motivation.
“I’m aware that prostitution is illegal.” She inclined her head and studied his face a long moment before wetting those luxurious lips with the tip of her tongue. “Are you in law enforcement?”
“It so happens I am.” The urge to loosen his tie an inch was overwhelming. If she knew who he was, she was damned good at not letting it show.
Would Luttrell go that far?
“Well,” she offered, “perhaps you should investigate.” She turned her back to him and disappeared into the room, leaving the door open for him to follow.
Carson glanced right, then left: The corridor was deserted. There was no one to watch, to witness him crossing the line she had drawn in the sand.This is a mistake.
He had work.
He should go.
Now.
And still he followed her inside. He closed the door and, despite mounting evidence that this was indeed a setup, waited to see what she would do next.
She lounged against the French doors that opened to the balcony and looked directly at him, her gaze resolute. He braced for the battle of wills, for anything she could possibly conceive to throw his way.
“Take off your clothes,” she ordered.
Anything except that.
4
Carson choked out a laugh.
Then he frowned.
The lady was serious.
As intrigued as he was, it was time to cut to the chase. This whole clandestine rendezvous had gone far enough.
Tomorrow Keller Luttrell was getting his ass kicked.
Carson took control of the encounter by taking a step away from the door, in her direction. “Let’s back this up just a little bit.” Pushing aside the lapels of his jacket, he slid his hands into his trouser pockets. “Is this a business transaction or a social encounter?”
First, he would give her a chance to save face.
“This is not a business transaction.” She moved a step toward him, calling his bluff. “This is about birthdays, celebrations, and physical attraction.”
Her confidence ignited a new kind of anticipation before he could check the reaction. Whoever had given her cues had known all the right buttons to push. Carson hated celebrating birthdays and holidays alone ... that was why he didn’t do either anymore. Further, there was nothing he liked more than a challenge. No one knew that better than Luttrell.
“I like what I see and I’m certain the feeling is mutual,” she added frankly as she took a long, slow survey from the classic cut of his hair to his polished oxfords. Unhurriedly, she retraced her path until hergaze collided with his once more. “Have I misjudged what I see?” She glanced pointedly at his crotch.
