The humid Southern climate is scorching in this air-controlled restroom. That’s a rabbit hole I was not planning to hop into. I’m not generally affected by people. Maybe it’s his unique blend of alluring danger and magnetic charisma.
Tossing my towel in the trash, I pick up my purse and turn to face him, my back to the counter. “I suppose I do, but it’s unnecessary.”
He hums, as if privy to the fleet of butterflies wreaking mayhem on my insides. “The name?”
“The use.”
“Like Cher, Shakira, or Zendaya?” he muses.
“Zendaya has a last name.” I bat my lashes. My whole body is vibrating with an awareness of how much I’m getting under his skin. “You just don’t know it, so let’s go with that.”
He strides closer with an authoritative swagger. “Let’s go with a name.”
My guess is that he’s used to spewing his demands and having people fall in line. I’m sure I’ll break that streak for him eventually, but submitting could be fun. At least for our first meeting.
I scrape my teeth over my lip with coy flirtation, captivated by the way he follows the movement, and keep my tone sultry. “West.”
“Zara West,” he repeats, stopping before me. “Did you just make that up?”
“You’re quite the cynic for a hospitable guy.” I laugh, which is necessary because my chest is heaving, and an unnerving urge to close the ten inches of space between us simmers beneath my skin. “You can check with the concierge in the lobby. I gave it tohim when we arrived. I just didn’t want to give it tosome poetin the women’s restroom.”
Bernard didn’t like me much, though he played nice. Something unsettled him about my presence. There was a second when I thought I was compromised, but I honestly can’t imagine how. I called Tripp as soon as Beck and I entered our suite. He wondered if it was my resemblance to Mom. Neither of us sees it. There have been occasional comments over the years to suggest others did, but most of those were people speaking kindly of her and extending a sweet word.
Since it’s a lengthy mission, we felt my showing up as authentic as possible—looks-wise—was best. My past will remain a mystery, but that seems fitting for the establishment. They can’t find anything on me anyway. I don’t exist. Once they accept me as any other guest, it will make hiding in plain sight to complete my job easier.
“Wise,” he commends. “So, Miss West, what do you do?”
I smile, dragging my gaze down to his trim waist and back to his handsome face. “A little of this and a little of that.”
“Those are vague qualifiers.” He mirrors my grin, and it’s the epitome of panty-dropping. “How much of this and how much of that?”
His playfulness is unexpected. I thought if he chased me down, I’d possibly have to pull my weapon and get out fast. But his sex appeal and haughty bravado are a fortress all on their own. Tripp was right to assume there were layers upon layers here. Who wouldn’t be spellbound by this guy? Other than me.
Tilting my head to mimic his teasing nature, I allow my long soft curls to drape my bare shoulder and my response to unfold like a dirty secret. “Fifty-fifty.”
He erases another half dozen inches between us until the molecules of the sultry air are in a frenzy, and his gravelly timbretrumps my filthy discretion. “I can appreciate a woman who is well … balanced.”
I’m not sure what game we’re engaged in yet. It’s erotic, whether we’re tangoing with murder or foreplay. The way those enigmatic blues are searing into me could be a treasure that belongs to either.
Maybe that’s why I can’t resist volleying with him, even though we have an audience. “Good to know. I have unparalleled balance, stamina, and … flexibility.”
The air crackles with taunts and ultimatums. Neither of us moves. Or speaks. Or breathes.
Beck clears his throat, looming in the open doorway. “Are you lost?”
He doesn’t use a name, so the question of whom he is talking to can be open to interpretation. Bold, but he has a role to play too. The obligatory testosterone match must ensue. And he can still refute any perceived contempt for Axel by saying he was addressing me.
“It seems you are, Beck,” the intense Noire throws back at him, his focus still firmly cemented to me. “This is the women’s.”
Beck shudders. It’s subtle but telling. The alpha speaks, and the pack bows down, agenda be damned.
I’ve never been more aroused by a display of virile arrogance, but that’s not why I’m here, so I step around Axel. My stilettos clack a consoling staccato rhythm on the marble floor as I sway my hips enough to have him replaying every swish later tonight when he’s fisting himself in the shower. I can enjoy torturing him even if that’s not the purpose of my visit. Him being drawn to me very much is.
When I reach Beck, I loop my arm around his elbow, but turn back to Axel. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Noire.”
He isn’t put off in the least that I know who he is. “I’m sure you have.”
Still not ready to walk away, I sling one more attempt to learn him. “What are the odds?”
