Page 52 of Perfect Vengeance

His suave demeanor and blond good looks had once charmed the pants off her until she realized his charm wasn’t even skin deep. Beneath the surface was a positively dull human being. Not that he wasn’t a decent enough guy. He just wasn’t the right guy for her.

“Gina.” He took her hand and held it to his lips. His unwavering intensity conveyed a less than subliminal message: he wanted back in her life.

“Hello, Paul.” His lips were cool against her fingers and she felt…absolutely nothing. All it took was a glance from Jack to boil her blood and set her skin on fire. Not even Paul’s kiss could stir the slightest physical response. She tugged her hand away. “How have you been?”

“Missing you.”

Oh, boy. Even his choice of words was cliché. He might be every woman’s blond dream, and there was no doubt he was exceptionally good looking. Too bad he held not one ounce of attraction for her.

Her lack of reaction did nothing to deter the man. “Dance with me,” he said, rather than ask.

“Paul, I really don’t think that would be a good⁠—”

“Oh. My. God.” Anna’s eyes widened.

“What is it?” Kinsey’s gaze followed Anna’s, her eyes going equally wide. “More like who, I should say.”

Gina’s jaw dropped. Suddenly there was no oxygen in the room, and she couldn’t breathe. The pounding in her heart drilled right up into her throat.

Standing at the entrance, surveying the room and looking hotter and sexier than ever in a black tuxedo, was Jack. When his gaze lit on her, every coherent thought in her head turned to pudding. Chocolate pudding. Something she could generally eat anytime, anyplace.

As if he hadn’t looked yummy enough before in a rugged, Rambo-esque kind of way, all that strength and power harnessed in a perfectly fitting tuxedo was enough to draw the attention of every woman in the room, even some of the men.

“Who is that?” Paul asked.

The tightness in her throat worsened, and she swallowed. It didn’t help. She still couldn’t breathe.

“What’s he doing here?” Margo whispered.

Conflicting emotions bubbled up inside her, although that could have been the three glasses of champagne she’d downed in the last hour.

“Whatever the reason is,” Margo added, “it can’t be good.”

“I agree,” Gina mumbled. So why was her body sparking with excitement?

“Do you think the FBI bugged the ballroom, and that he knows what we’re planning?” Anna’s worried expression mirrored what Gina had already considered and discarded as impossible.

“Shhh!” Kinsey nodded at Paul, who, luckily enough, had stepped away from them and seemed fixated on watching Jack as he maneuvered through the crowd.

Unexpectedly, Jack seemed to know several people, sharing a few words here and there. Those who didn’t shake his hand, parted for him like the Red Sea. There must have been over a hundred people in the ballroom, but for her, there was only one person. Watching him eat up the distance between them with his long legs, she could practically feel his hands holding her again, cupping her bottom as he’d pulled her tightly against him. The memory of his lips on hers, his tongue sweeping her mouth, was so vivid, she had to lick her lips.

Paul moved closer, then leaned down and repeated, “Who is he? Did I hear Anna say something about the FBI?” As his lips brushed her ear, Jack’s face hardened.

“Hello, Kinsey,” he said as he joined them.

“Hi, Jack.” Kinsey took his hand, bestowing him with her classic royal smile.

“Margo, Annabelle, how are you?” He shook their hands. “Gina.” Without hesitation, he rested his hand at the small of her back and leaned down to kiss her cheek as if they’d known each other for years—not one week, eighteen hours, and approximately forty minutes. Not that she’d been counting. His lips were warm and firm, and there was that annoyingly sexy grin she was actually beginning to like.

His fingers made lazy circles on her bare back, rendering her speechless. Worse, making her bones and muscles liquefy. Whether it was voluntary or involuntary, she couldn’t say. Somehow, she found her hip snugged against his upper thigh. Where her leg was soft yet toned, his was lean and rock hard.

The other night she was sure they’d never see each other again. Yet, here he was. Aside from the looks he’d sent toward her and her friends, the smiles he bestowed on everyone else were far from genuine. He was in total work mode. She already knew him well enough to pick up on those little nuances.

Common sense told her he wasn’t here because of their newly formed plans to rip off Tino’s shore house, but him showing up at that exact moment had her nerves screaming with panic. Especially given his uncanny ability to read her like an open book.

She didn’t know if he really was just aces at his job, or whether there was some cosmic telepathic link between them. Either way, distance was key. Right now, there was no distance, and the heat between them was palpable, leaving her skin hot and sensitive to his touch.

Paul held out his hand to Jack. “Paul Bartholomew.”