Heat ignited beneath his skin. The gauntlet was definitely on the ground. She wasn’t cracking without a battle. This was a woman accustomed to having her way with men.
A battle it would be. “Do you pick up men in this manner often?” Another step disappeared between them, this one his. Matching her maneuver, his gaze traveled down those long legs, all the way to the devil-red polish glinting on her toenails and over the strappy stilettos in the same sizzling color. Another blast of tension tightened below his belt, fueling the fire her words had kindled far too quickly.
“Often is relative, don’t you think?” She removed her dangly earrings and tossed them onto the closest table. “For some, there aren’t enough days in the week. For others, waiting is the best aphrodisiac of all.”
The muscle in his jaw tightened.You need sex, Carson.But not like this. He acquired the next step, decided to up the ante. Put her on the defensive. “So, this isn’t the first time you’ve lured a stranger to your hotel room.”
She abided the roundabout insult without a flinch. Instead of telling him to go to hell or slapping his face, she blatantly and deliberately assessed him a second time.
Another of the smiles that mesmerized him so easily glided across her sleek lips. “If I confess my sins, will you be afraid to play with me?”
Excitement shot through him. He dismissed it, refused to allow his baser instincts that kind of leverage twice in one day. He hadn’t run out of angles just yet.
Make it personal. “I assume you have a name.”
She moved closer, one more step then a second. “For tonight, why don’t we pretend we’re anyone but who we are?”
Temptation nudged him harder. Made him hesitate, but not for long. He gave his head a shake. “I’m afraid you’ve picked the wrong man.” He didn’t take risks outside the boundaries of a case; didn’t play these kinds of meaningless games. He was done.
“I see.” Impervious, she claimed the final step between them. A subtle whiff of her perfume teased his senses. Made him long to be closer still ... close enough to taste her.
Stupid, Carson. Incredibly stupid.
He drew in a breath, wished he hadn’t. The fragrance that had tickled his senses now permeated his lungs, renewed his forbidden desire. It was either get the hell out of there or risk passing the point of no return. “I should go now.” He hesitated before following through. “Tell my friend that payback is hell.”
When he would have acted on his intent, she reached for his tie and dragged her fingers down its length. “You believe your friend had something to do with this?” Slowly, she inched her fingers upward again and worked loose the silk knot at his throat. “A birthday gift, maybe?”
Well, there was his answer. Luttrell would so regret this. “My friend has a predilection for skirting the fringes of ethics. Usually mine.”
Her palms skimmed his chest. Already tense muscles hardened. “You should relax. I’ll bet you don’t do that often.”
Before he could decide whether to counter her statement or simply walk out the door, she pulled away and crossed to the bar. She picked up the bottle of liquor waiting there.Bacardi.Memories bombarded him, set off an alarm. He hadn’t tasted rum in fifteen years. Hadn’t imbibed any alcohol.
Had to be a coincidence. She couldn’t know that about him. Even Luttrell didn’t know his onetime drink of choice.
“Do you prefer it straight or mixed?”
His mouth parched as if fifteen years had not elapsed since his last topple into that particular temptation. “Thank you. I’ll pass.” He told himself to go. To leave now as he’d planned. “You have your key,” he explained for her benefit as well as his own. “That’s why I came.” Even as he said the words he understood he was lying to himself.
It had been way too long since he’d had sex. His gaze roved her slender curves as she filled the glass despite his veto. He started to remind her that he wasn’t staying, but then she lifted the drink andswallowed deeply. Watching her do so inexplicably rendered him mute. The delicate muscles of her throat worked, welcoming the warming liquid. She made an appreciative sound as she moved in his direction and offered him the glass. “One drink. No strings. If you still want to go ... I won’t try and persuade you to stay.”
The glass settled against his palm. Her fingers closed around his. Electricity crackled where their skin touched.
“One drink.” The flavor of rum was on his tongue before he fully realized he had made the decision to taste it, much less said the words.
He didn’t drink.
Never allowed his guard to fail this way.
And still he could not resist. She intrigued him on every level. Made him want her with a desperation he hadn’t felt in years.
No one should be alone on a night like this.Maybe she was right. He emptied the glass. Felt the burn. His tongue slid across his bottom lip to taste the last drop.
She was watching. “One dance?” She took the glass from his hand and pulled him toward the center of the room, her actions slow and teasing like the music. “Just one.”
Just one.
He watched her place the empty glass on the bar, walk back over to him. Felt her palms glide up his chest and her fingers lace behind his neck. She started to sway and, again, he didn’t resist. His body fell into rhythm with hers. She leaned in. His arms instinctively went around her waist, pulled her closer. He thought of all the reasons he should have left already ...
