Текст книги "Heated"
Автор книги: J. Kenner
Соавторы: J. Kenner
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
Chapter Two
She’s just the woman I want, too.
His words wrapped around me, as enticing as a caress, and the control I’d been clutching scattered like so much dandelion fluff.
That moment of weakness passed quickly, though, shoved aside by years of police training and the deeply ingrained cynicism I’d lived with since childhood. Tyler Sharp was a con man and a womanizer and who knew what else. He knew how to flatter. How to entice. How to make a woman feel special and interesting and, yeah, just a little turned on. But no way had he really been looking for me. He’d been out of town for weeks, and I knew that he’d returned only this afternoon. So, no. I wasn’t on his radar.
I told myself that was a good thing. If Tyler Sharp was going to be looking at me, I wanted him to see only what I was willing to reveal.
As if in answer to my thoughts, he glanced down, then drew his gaze over me, starting at my newly-painted pink toenails and moving so slowly up my body that it took all my willpower not to shiver. When his eyes once again reached mine, I almost gasped at the wicked fire I saw beneath the fierce arctic blue. A wild, penetrating flame that had the power to burn away my cover and leave me naked, all my secrets fully exposed to this man.
The thought should have angered me. At the very least, it should have worried me.
Instead, it excited me.
You’re off your game, Sloane. Walk away. Just walk away, get your bearings, and kick off the op tomorrow.
Good advice, actually. And why wouldn’t it be? I was a damn good cop, after all.
Apparently I was also a damn fool, because I had no intention of walking away. I wasn’t entirely sure if I was sticking because of the mission or the man, but I told myself it didn’t matter. That the little trill of sensual pleasure I felt low in my belly wasn’t a weakness—it was an asset. This was a seduction, after all. A little sizzle and pop between us would only make the job easier. And a lot of sizzle and pop would make it a hell of a lot more fun.
Still, I owed either Tyler Sharp or my hormones a thank-you. Because my reaction to this man reminded me that I needed to be careful. Tyler Sharp was a dangerous breed, and though he might not know it yet, he and I were locked in a heated battle. One that I fully intended to win—even if that meant playing dirty.
Beside me, Kat shifted. The movement caught my attention, and I turned to see her watching Tyler.
He gave her the slightest of nods, and she cleared her throat. “Um, yeah, well, I’m just going to run and find Lina and give her and Evan another hug. Attend to my pseudo-hostess duties. Maybe cure cancer and solve that whole world peace problem. Hopefully you two will muddle along without me.”
“I think we’ll manage,” Tyler said. “I promise to take good care of Sloane.”
“Yeah,” Kat said. “I just bet you will.” She winked at me, then bopped away. I watched her get swallowed up by the crowd, grateful to have a moment to gather myself. When I turned back to Tyler, I saw that he hadn’t taken the same opportunity. He was still focused entirely on me.
“Alone at last,” he said.
I shifted my weight, not liking the way this man unnerved me. I was a detective, for Christ’s sake. I ate suspects for breakfast, and my bad cop skills in interviews were worthy of an Academy Award. I’d never worked undercover, though, and I suddenly had all sorts of respect for my peers who put on the mask and held tight to their secrets.
Then again, I was no stranger to masks or secrets. I could do this. And as if to prove it to myself, I looked up at him through my lashes, hoping the effect was as sexy as I imagined. “Should I be nervous? A man like you looking for me.”
“A man like me?” His voice was low. Enticing. “Interesting. So tell me—what am I like?”
I stepped closer to him, lifted my hand as if I was going to touch him, then pulled it back with a slightly embarrassed expression. “Tempting,” I said, and though the word was calculated, it was also very true.
“Am I?” He looked pointedly at my hands. “And that makes you nervous?”
“That? No.” I drew in a breath as I considered my next move and, as in chess, where that move would take me. “I’m pretty good at resisting temptation.”
“Are you?” He leaned in, his mouth so close to my ear I felt the whisper of his breath on my hair. “I’m not. As far as I’m concerned, giving in to temptation is one of the few true pleasures in life.”
Oh, my. A hot coil of desire twisted through me, making my skin flush and my knees go weak.
If he noticed my reaction, he said nothing. But he began to walk slowly around me, as a man in a museum might circle a statue.
I started to turn as well, tracking his movement. “No,” he said, the command in his voice undeniable. “Stay still. Look forward.”
I stopped, hesitated, then turned my head to look out at the party, at the people floating by in pretty dresses and elegant suits. With smiles and laughter and nothing on their minds except the quality of the wine and the rhythm of the band.
I told myself that my acquiescence was simply part of the game—he was a man who wanted control, I was the woman falling under his spell.
But it was more than that, and I damn well knew it. That flutter I felt in my belly wasn’t the excitement of the chase, but the anticipation of his touch.
Yeah, Tyler Sharp was dangerous, all right.
He was behind me now, and though I could no longer see him, I felt his presence as firm and gentle as a kiss. My breath caught in my chest, and I realized that I was anticipating the brush of his fingertips upon the nape of my neck, then his hand on my bare back, exposed in the halter-style dress.
But the touch never came—and my breath never came easy.
When he spoke, his voice was low, as if too much volume would break the spell. “You’re a riddle, Ms.…”
“O’Dell,” I whispered.
He was right there, but I couldn’t see him. I could only breathe in the scent of him, fresh and woody, like a forest after a rain. Sexy, enticing, and undeniably male. “Sloane O’Dell,” he said. “I like it.”
“I like the way you say it.” I kept my voice low and full of invitation.
“Do you?” he asked, as he finished the circle. “I’m very glad to hear it.”
I looked at him, at that perfect face, and felt my fingers twitch with the desire to touch him, a desire that was magnified because I could see only too well that it was returned. Tyler Sharp wanted me, too. Maybe he was teasing me, playing me. Maybe he had an agenda. I didn’t know. But my world centered around seeing—seeing people, seeing evidence, seeing the truth. And I saw the truth in the way Tyler’s eyes were dilated. In the slightest flush of color on his skin. In the way that his pulse beat just a tad too quickly in his neck.
Yes, he wanted me—and yet there was no denying that he was playing with me, too. We were locked in a game, and though I’d initiated it, I couldn’t claim to fully understand the rules.
I felt unanchored and slightly out of control. But at the same time, I felt more desperately alive than I had in a very long time.
With some effort, I managed to gather myself. “You never did say why you were looking for me.”
“No. I didn’t.”
I couldn’t help but grin. Forget chess; this was way more fun. “Am I supposed to guess?”
Instead of answering, he just smiled. Slow and easy and full of decadent promise. “Sloane,” he said. Just a syllable. Just a name. But it was my name, and it seemed to drip with honey. I wanted to taste it. Taste him.
A shiver raced up my spine. My inner thighs felt warm, and my breasts strained against the bodice of my dress. It had been years since I’d had such a pronounced reaction to a man. He might be as dangerous as they come, but that was part of what made my job exciting—the more dangerous the quarry, the bigger the thrill.
Tyler took a step forward, and I took a corresponding step back, then one more just because I wanted to clear my head. I realized too late that he’d edged me back against the pillar. I might have been trying to escape, but there was no place to go, especially not when Tyler leaned forward, pressing his palm to the pillar just over my shoulder. He was right there, right in front of me, so close I could feel the air thickening from the pressure.
“Tyler.” My voice was low, barely a whisper. “I don’t think—”
“No,” he said. “Don’t think. Just wait. Just close your eyes.”
I fought the urge to protest—this is what I wanted, after all. To get close to this man. To heat it up and see how far we could take it. No matter how out of control I might feel, I had to remember that this was my game, and though he might score a few points, I was the one who’d made up the rules.
“That’s a good girl,” he said, as I let my eyes flutter closed.
I concentrated on breathing, trying to ignore the way the tiny hairs on my arms stood up, a reaction to the electricity now swirling in the few inches that remained between us. He cupped my jaw with his free hand, then brushed his thumb lightly over my cheek. He was going to kiss me.
My mind was spinning so damn fast, reeling between excitement and wonder. He was a tool, a suspect, a criminal. Even so, I wanted this, and not because seduction was my endgame.
I simply wanted the man. Damn me to hell, I wanted him bad.
I felt the brush of his lips against my ear as he spoke. His voice was as soft and sensual as the kiss that I expected, but the words held the sting of a slap: “You shouldn’t be here.”
Ice burned in my veins, and I stood as tight and still as a statue.
He’d made me. Goddammit, how the hell had he made me?
But no. The “how” wasn’t important. Now it was all about denial and damage control.
I allowed myself only a second to rein in my fear. I let confusion color my expression—not hard under the circumstances—then I opened my eyes. He’d stepped back, and I met his gaze boldly. I expected to see anger and accusation on his face. Instead, I saw warmth. “I—” I closed my mouth and regrouped. “What are you talking about?”
“You shouldn’t be tucked away like this.” He spoke simply, apparently oblivious to my discomfiture. “You should be the center of attention. See that flower arrangement?” he asked, nodding toward the stunning arrangement of flowers that dominated the center of the Palm Court. “You outshine it a thousandfold.”
It was an utterly unoriginal line—not worthy of the man at all. I thought about telling him so, but considering my goal of getting close, insulting him probably shouldn’t be my next move. Frankly, I was so flustered I wasn’t sure what the next move should be. All I knew was that I’d gone on the defensive, and I needed to drop that before he noticed.
It took some concentration, but I managed to conjure a shy smile. “You’re very sweet,” I said. “And I’m very flattered.”
For a moment, he said nothing, but I saw the inquisitive gleam in his eye along with the way his head tilted slightly, as if he was examining something curious. “No,” he finally said. “I don’t think you’re flattered at all.”
“Excuse me?” I couldn’t help the bite of temper in my voice, but it was directed at me, not at him. I should have gone for bold, not demure. Should have stepped forward instead of stepping back.
I’d miscalculated. And I didn’t like to lose.
“You don’t strike me as a woman who needs pretty words and flattery. I think you like a more direct approach.” Once again, he closed the distance between us. Once again, the air shimmered with rising heat, this time fueled by the kind of danger that had the power to burn.
“Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I know. It’s who you are.” He took hold of my wrist, the shock of his touch effectively silencing my lie. “Tell me why you were looking for me, Sloane. Tell me flat out.”
I drew in a breath, buying time as I weighed my options and considered how to mix truth with lies. “I saw you,” I finally said. “On the television, in magazines, in newspapers. You seemed powerful and a little mysterious.”
“Always good to keep the press and the public guessing. It increases the mystique.”
“Does it? Well, I guess it worked. I’ve thought about you, Tyler Sharp. You wouldn’t leave my head. And I decided that I had to get close to you. I had to know if the living, breathing man was as interesting in person as he was in my fantasies.”
I met his eyes. Made sure that he could see the heat in mine. “I wanted to get close. I wanted to see if you were the kind of man I wanted in my bed.”
“And?”
“Now I’ve met you,” I said as I gently pulled my arm free. But my smile was slow and easy and full of invitation.
And leaving that little bit of bait dangling, I slowly walked away.
Chapter Three
I managed to keep my back straight and add a nice little swish to my hips as I crossed the ballroom toward the ladies’ room. I wasn’t about to turn around and check, but I imagined that he was watching me go, and I couldn’t falter. Not then. Not after taking the kind of chance I’d just taken.
The moment I was through the door of the restroom, though, I raced to the closest cubicle and locked myself in. As with everything at The Drake, even the bathroom was elegant, and my little stall was a far cry from typical. Instead of simply housing a toilet, there was a marble vanity, a sink, and an upholstered stool, upon which I gratefully sagged. I pressed my elbows to the counter, stared at my reflection, and sighed.
“That was either a brilliant move or complete lunacy,” I announced, but the girl in the mirror didn’t say a thing, and I can’t say that I blamed her. Her always pale skin seemed to glow, and the flush of excitement that colored her cheeks only made the smattering of freckles stand out more. Her tumble of wavy red hair—the other souvenir of her Irish heritage—had come loose from the messy knot she’d secured with a pair of decorative chopsticks atop her head, and now a few tendrils framed her face in a way that was undeniably flirty.
Considering the outcome of the operation was still an open question, she looked far too smug—far too excited. As if she was setting out on a grand adventure.
“Idiot,” I said to her—to myself—as I glanced at my watch, gauging how long I should wait before I went back into the ballroom. I’d thrown down a gauntlet specifically because Tyler was the kind of guy who needed a challenge, but if I stayed away too long, my plan might backfire. Some other woman might slide into Tyler’s arms. He might decide to cut his losses and head out. He might decide that I was just too much damn trouble.
Right. Enough with the gauntlet throwing. Time to get back in the game.
I hurried out of the stall, yanked open the door to the ladies’ room, then headed back into the ballroom. I scoped out the room, searching every face for Tyler, but there was no sign of him.
Well, damn.
Honestly, I should have expected it. Nothing is as easy as it should be, after all.
I am not a party hound. Neither do I do small talk well. And my warm, comfy pillar was all the way across the room. I was making my way in that direction when I saw him standing amidst a small cluster of women. I winced when a blonde with amazing tits and the kind of neckline that was bound to cause a traffic accident laughed heartily and slid her arm around his waist, leaning against him as if she’d otherwise be knocked over by his wit.
His own grin widened, and he added something to the conversation that I couldn’t hear. Everyone in that circle was enraptured by him, and to be honest I was surprised the whole room didn’t turn toward him, drawn by his smooth manner and gregarious smile. In that moment, I was certain that what Kevin had told me of cons and confidence games was true; Tyler had the looks, the charm, the whole package designed to entice and steal and finagle while the mark just stood there and happily handed it over. I should know. He’d stolen my equilibrium with no effort at all.
As I watched, he cocked his head as if he’d heard something, and his eyes skimmed casually over the room. But it wasn’t casual when he found me. Instead, it was a crash, and I stumbled backward simply from the force of it.
I stood there, unsteady on my feet, yet unable to look away from him. The eyes that had only moments before reflected the gentle blue of a robin’s egg now danced wildly, a violent flame that was more than ready to burn.
I could see his body tense, his muscles tightening as if he was a wild animal about to spring. The hunger on his face was unmistakable, and my pulse kicked up as I fought the sudden urge to bolt.
Go, I thought foolishly. Don’t you know you’re the prey?
Maybe I was, but I couldn’t look away. I was captured, locked in place by nothing more than a look. And if he intended to destroy me, I knew in that moment that I would willingly let him reduce me to rubble.
And then it was over.
Deliberately, he turned away, then whispered something into the blond bitch’s ear. She laughed, the sound high-pitched and grating. It was a good thing I’d left my weapon in my glove box, because right then I had the urge to get off a few rounds. As it was, it took all my willpower to keep from stomping over there and seeing whether my best punch would shatter her overly Botoxed forehead.
Fuck.
I wasn’t supposed to be this riled up. On the contrary, I’d been trying to rile him up.
Apparently, my plan had boomeranged.
Double-fuck.
With a massive effort, I got my feet to move. Since I couldn’t think of a better option, I headed for the bar, figuring that wine would either help me think or help soothe my wounded pride. I was diverted, however, by the tall, gray-haired man who was heading right toward me. He opened his mouth to speak, but I shook my head once, then continued on my way to the bar. He sidled up next to me a moment after the bartender had handed me a glass of merlot and ordered himself a beer. “Nice party,” he said. “You know the groom?”
“A bit,” I said. “You?”
“You could say that.” He stuck out his hand to shake. “I’m Tom Cray,” he said, which wasn’t exactly news to me since I’d known Tom almost my entire life. He’d worked under my father in the Indianapolis field office of the FBI before moving to Chicago. I’d given his office a call when I’d arrived in town two days ago, but apparently he’d moved on, and was now among the big shots in D.C.
“Sloane O’Dell,” I said, and saw understanding in his eyes.
We’d been moving as we spoke, casually stepping away from the bar and away from other people and prying ears. “You’re on the job,” he said, his words reminding me that I hadn’t come to Chicago to get knotted up about a guy. I’d come to find Amy, and I needed get my damn hormones under control.
“Not officially. One of my CIs back home had a friend go missing. Since I’m riding out the last of my medical leave, I thought I’d help her out.”
“Medical?” he asked with paternal concern.
“No permanent damage,” I said, my hand automatically going to my left hip. “Took a bullet, but it’s healing up nicely. Aches a bit at the end of a long day, but I can handle it.” It ached now, and the ridiculous shoes I’d put on for this shindig didn’t help. Not that I shared that little fashion tidbit with Tom.
“And your partner? Hernandez, right?”
“I forgot you two had met. Bastard bailed on me,” I said, but I was grinning.
“Finally retired?”
“Meredith freaked when I got shot,” I said, referring to my partner’s wife. “Said I was young and could take it, but at his age, he’d be laid up, incapacitated, maybe even dead if he got one of those nasty superbugs that you read about infesting hospitals. Meredith’s a bit of a worrier and a lot of hypochondriac. Not great for a cop’s wife. But he was ready. They moved to Wisconsin. An old Victorian she inherited a few years ago. They’ve kept it as a rental, but I think Hernandez is planning to spend a lot of time fixing it up.” I shrugged. “I’d go out of my mind, but I think he’s pretty happy with the plan.”
“So who’s filling his shoes?”
“No one yet. Captain said he’d make assignments when I got off medical.”
The corner of his eyes crinkled. “And I can see you’re doing your best to rest and recuperate.”
I rolled my eyes. “Damn doctors. I’m perfectly fine, but they insisted I take another ten days. So I’m working off book.”
He glanced around the ornate room. “And you think this missing girl might be hiding among the fancy dresses and bottles of champagne?”
“Unfortunately, she’s not making it that easy for me. She was an exotic dancer,” I added, and when his eyes flicked toward Evan Black, I knew he understood the connection.
“You’re thinking the knights might know something about her disappearance?”
“You mean Black, Sharp, and August? Yeah, maybe. Them or someone who works at Destiny. At the very least it’s a starting point.” I glanced across the room at Tyler. “You called them the knights?”
He slipped his hands into his pockets. “From what I understand, Howard Jahn gave them the nickname, and it stuck. You’re familiar with Jahn, I assume?”
“Sure.” It was no secret that Tyler Sharp, Cole August, and Evan Black had been mentored by the late Howard Jahn, one of Chicago’s most revered entrepreneurs.
That relationship, actually, made me wonder about Kevin’s suspicions regarding the three men. I’d done my research, and Howard Jahn had a pristine record and had left a stunning legacy that included a charitable foundation and an endowed chair at the business school at Northwestern. If Sharp, August, and Black were as dirty as Kevin said they were, would Jahn really have associated with them?
I didn’t know. But I intended to find out.
“So that’s why I’m here,” I said to Tom. “What’s your story? Something going down I should know about?”
“I’m here entirely unofficially. I’ve known Angelina’s father—the senator—for years, and I saw her quite a bit when she was dating Kevin. I even know the groom, too. I met him a few months ago through some task force business.”
“Wait, back up. Are you talking about Kevin Warner? He dated Angelina? Why isn’t he here?”
“Not the best of breakups. I think the fact that he tried to nail Angie’s fiancé for Mann Act violations rubbed her the wrong way.”
“I guess it would,” I said, even as the low buzz of anger built in my belly. I worked hard to keep my expression bland and my voice casual. “Question for you—I know you may not be able to tell me much, but just how dirty do you think those three are? I know they got immunity on the Mann Act violations when that whole task force sting went down, but …”
“My take? Usually I think that where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” he said, echoing my thoughts about guilt and immunity deals. “But one thing gives me pause about those three, and that’s Senator Raine.”
“What do you mean?”
“He oversaw the Mann Act task force, so I imagine he knows as much about those men as anyone, at least as it goes to the trafficking allegations. Seems to me, he must think they’re clean. If he didn’t,” he added, with a nod toward Angelina, “I doubt this marriage would be going forward.”
The man had a point. “Kevin seems convinced they’re getting away with all sorts of shit.”
Tom’s mouth curved into a frown. “Kevin may have his own ax to grind,” Tom said. “Still, I think it’s a fair bet those boys have played in the wrong sandbox a time or two. But you didn’t hear it from me.”
“Hear what?” I asked, innocently even as I tried to order my thoughts. I didn’t know what Kevin’s agenda was, but I was certain he had one, and I had no intention of being used as his tool.
“I’m going to go say hello to the bride,” Tom said. “I’m only in town for the day, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call my office in D.C.”
“Appreciate it,” I said, though I’ll admit I was a little distracted. Both by the sudden burst of anger at Kevin, and by my general cluelessness at how to exploit that heat I’d seen burning in Tyler’s eyes. What I wanted to do was shove the bimbo out of the way, and take my place at Tyler’s side. But even if I could manage that without getting my face slashed in a catfight, that wasn’t the route I wanted to take. Right now, I had the upper hand. Succumb to desire and go to him, and I lost that advantage.
No, I wanted him to come to me. I just wasn’t sure how to entice him to do that.
And then it hit me.
“Tom!” I blurted. “Mr. Cray!”
He’d only gone a few steps, and now he turned back, his brow furrowed in question.
“Now that you mention it,” I said, “there’s something you can do for me right now.”
