She closed her eyes tight, opened them again to stare out at the lights.
Should have taken the journalist up on his offer today at the bar. Should have found a way to work Sullivan out of your system.
Never would have worked.
Wasn’t that just the kick in all of this? Somewhere along the way, the game had changed on her. This need burning inside wasn’t just about sex—at least not with any guy. She wanted the one next to her. The one she didn’t for one minute believe in or trust. The one who was using her. The one who was a thief and a liar.
He shifted again, draped his arm over the back of the seat. Her breath caught at the subtle move, and sanity slipped from her grasp.
Don’t touch me, don’t touch me, pleeeease don’t touch me.
She knew that as soon as he did, she’d melt.
His hand drifted down to her shoulder—luckily, a shoulder covered by a black silk drape, so his touch couldn’t set her skin on fire. “You look amazing,
querida.
”
Hot breath with a hint of mint washed over her ear, warmed her all the way down to her toes. She swallowed hard and tried like hell to put calm and casual into her voice. “It’s just a dress, Slick.”
“A ‘wow’ dress,” he said all soft and sleepy, like a man did
when he had sex on the brain. “You want me to suffer, don’t you?”
Hell, yes. That was the idea. Only now she was the one suffering. Big-time.
“Contrary to what you might think, I don’t plan my wardrobe around you.” She tried to inch away from his enticing body, but there was nowhere to go. “Why don’t we focus on something more important, like what we’re doing to night?”
“I’m focused,” he said in the same sultry voice. “Always focused. Nothing wrong with enjoying the scenery along the way, though.”
Her heart thumped, but she ignored it. Ignored the way his gaze slid from her lips down to her breasts. “Landau will probably make an entrance. He seems to like attention, which explains this little bash happening now.”
“Yeah, I got that. He’s making a statement.” His voice hardened, but his arm didn’t budge. “I want you to stick with me until we see him come in.”
“Sullivan—”
He held up his free hand. “We don’t know who will be there, if what happened last night is related, if he’s involved at all. So until I get a read on the place, stay by my side.”
It wasn’t a question but an order. She could tell by the tone of his voice and the rigid line of his shoulders. Though his eyes were all soft and dreamy, his voice left no room for doubt. Arguing with him wasn’t going to get her anywhere. It would only set him off. And right now she didn’t want that. She needed him.
She nearly choked on the thought.
Shaking her hair back, and the ludicrous idea along with it, she glanced sideways. “You think this will work? There’s going to be security there. You didn’t have a lot of time to study the blueprints your friend dug up.”
She frowned at the memory of his phone call to some “friend’” after she’d told him of the party, of his quick exit from the apartment and eventual return with a wealth of information
on Landau’s security. She didn’t particularly want to know the ins and outs of how he’d dug up the material, because she had a hunch it hadn’t been legal. But she was curious about whether he was really as good as he claimed to be. “Are you sure you can do this?”
Street lights illuminated his rugged jawline, the angles and planes of an entirely too-handsome face. When he smiled, a slow and sexy curve of his lips, a thousand butterflies took flight in her stomach. “Piece of cake. I’m good at what I do,
querida.
Trust me.”
“Hmm.” She’d stopped trusting people a long time ago, and he was the last person in the world she wanted to take a chance on.
She glanced back out the window and tried to find some sense of control. The man might be a sex god, but he was still a thief and a liar. And, ironically, she had to hope that in this case he was good at both.
He was good. He hadn’t lied to her. He knew how to work a situation so he always came out on top.
He was also a planner. One who calculated the risks and never went after a mark unless he was overprepared. In his line of work, you didn’t cut corners, you planned for the unexpected, and you never did a job on impulse.
Those simple rules had taken Rafe a long way, had saved his ass more times than he could count, but for some reason they seemed to be changing. Hell, ever since Lisa had walked into his life, he’d been operating on the fly, and he didn’t particularly like it.
He rolled his shoulders as they ascended the stairs at the entry of Landau’s stately mansion. One call to Pete and the ball had been put in play. His partner was a whiz at handling the details, and within an hour Rafe had received copies of Landau’s blueprints, a rundown on the man’s personal security system and all the tools he’d need for tonight’s little job.
He’d taken his time and studied the estate, worked
through his plan for the evening. Security cameras wouldn’t slow him down. Locks were only a minor inconvenience. The safe posed the biggest time constraint, but nothing worth worrying about. And if Landau was after the Furies, as they suspected, then Rafe was pretty sure his research would be locked up tight in the one place he didn’t expect to be hit.
A quick and easy job. One he could probably do in his sleep. So what was up with that tickle in the back of his throat?
You’re distracted, that’s all.
Well, who the hell wouldn’t be? The woman standing next to him could stop a freight train with one sultry look. It was no wonder he was having trouble concentrating.
Thin little straps held her glittering emerald gown in place. A heart-shaped neckline scooped low at her breasts showed a hint of that plump cleavage. The tight dress fit her curvy figure like a glove, then dropped all the way to the floor. A slit on the left side drew attention to her toned leg with every step she took.
But it was the rear view that had his mouth watering each time she turned away. The dress plunged to the small of her back, the tiny straps doing some crisscross thing up near her shoulders, showcasing her toned muscles and creamy skin—making all thought slip right out of his head anytime he caught a glimpse of her.
Common sense told him he needed to
stop
looking at her and just refocus. But damn, it was hard.
With a hand at the base of Lisa’s spine, he ushered her across the entrance’s marble floor and took a careful sweep of Alan Landau’s private mecca in a posh suburban area of Chicago. No modest dwelling for this target. No, from the look of the mansions they’d passed on the way in, Landau was turning a pretty penny with his little gallery.
Two security guards at the main entrance. Another three that Rafe could see, circulating through the crowd inside. All probably armed, the way his luck was going.
Wide columns flanked both walls. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, splashing light across the guests just arriving. Luckily, the security detail wasn’t hard to pick out—grim looks on their faces, earpieces snaked behind ears. Even in black tie, mingling with the crowd, they stood out like a sore thumb.
Well, one thing was going right. It was a hell of a lot easier to keep an eye on them that way. And since their attention undoubtedly was focused on the collection waiting to be unveiled, it was all the easier for Rafe to sneak off and take a look around.
Lisa slid the wrap from her shoulders and handed it to a man checking coats at their left, then slipped her hand into the crook of Rafe’s arm. “Put on a smile, Sullivan. And act like you’re happy to be here.”
He would, if she weren’t pumping out so much damn heat.
A waiter passed with a tray of drinks. Lisa reached out and snagged two bubbling glasses of champagne and handed him one. She took a long sip and scanned the room.
Oh, hell. Watching her tempting lips pass over the glass and the line of her throat when she tipped the flute up and swallowed wasn’t helping. He lifted his own glass and drank deeply.
“Some powerful faces here to night,” she said beside him.
He lowered the flute and glanced around. The main living area had obviously been cleared for the event. Across the vast room with its soaring ceiling, a small stage had been erected. A three-piece orchestra played classical music that wafted through the air. Tall trees flanked the stage with twinkling white lights woven through the branches. Couples mingled on the dance floor. Ahead and to the left, a curved staircase swept up to what Rafe knew from his research was the second-floor suite of bedrooms; above that was Landau’s private office on the upper level.
He took a closer look at the crowd. A popular TV–talk
show host, three state senators, a couple of sports personalities from the greater Chicago area, and a horde of nerds who could only be the scholarly types. “Our Landau’s a popular guy.” Glass in hand, he gestured to a salt-and-pepper-haired man across the room. “Who’s that?”
“Governor of Illinois. Up for reelection this year, I think.”
“
Really
popular guy,” he muttered.
“I don’t believe it.”
They both turned toward the male voice. The man striding in their direction had Lisa in his line of vision. He was tall, dressed in a tux like every other guy in the place, with slightly too long auburn hair and a wide grin. When he reached them, he grasped Lisa’s hands and took a long sweep of her body from head to toe.
Rafe’s back tingled.
“Now that’s a dress,” the man said. “I almost didn’t believe my eyes when I saw you wander in.”
A grin tugged at Lisa’s mouth, and a blush crept across her cheeks. “What are you doing here, Riley?”
“I could ask you the same question. I haven’t seen you since Tahiti. And oh, sweetheart”—his eyes hovered over her breasts, slid slowly up to her face—“I don’t remember you wearing anything as succulent as this.”
Rafe cleared his throat.
Lisa glanced his way. “Oh, I’m sorry. Cole Riley, this is a colleague of mine, Rafael—”
“Garcia,” Rafe cut in. Her curious gaze darted his way, but he ignored it. No sense sharing vital information. She might be well-known here, but that didn’t mean he had to be.
“Nice to meet you.” The man spared him a quick glance before refocusing on Lisa again as if Rafe weren’t even there. “I had no clue you’d be here.”
“Last-minute decision. I happened to be in town.”
He smiled. “Just my luck. God, I missed you.”
Deep, sexy laughter slipped from Lisa’s lips. She didn’t make any attempt to pull her hands back.
Holy shit.
Rafe’s eyes narrowed as he looked between the two. They’d been lovers. It was written all over the guy’s I’ve-had-a-piece-of-this face.
Riley’s gaze darted to the small bandage on her upper arm. He shook his head and clucked his tongue. “You been playing Indiana Jones again, honey?”
Lisa grinned but didn’t answer.
Riley took the champagne from her hand and pushed it at Rafe, then tugged Lisa toward the dance floor. “Come on and tell me all about what you’ve been up to the last few months since you broke my heart.”
“Um…” Lisa darted a glance at Rafe.
“He won’t mind. Will you?” Riley winked at Rafe, didn’t wait for him to answer and pulled Lisa behind him.
Rafe clenched his jaw and watched as the obnoxious redhead twirled Lisa around on the dance floor. She laughed, and her skirt swayed and flared, giving him a glimpse of bare thigh.
Mierda.
He tipped her half-empty glass to his lips and downed the contents. This wasn’t part of the plan, although he should have expected she’d run into people she knew. The woman obviously hadn’t been listening when he’d told her to stick close. More frustrated by the minute, he lifted his own glass and drank that, too. When a waiter passed with a tray, he deposited the empties and grabbed another flute.
He turned away so he didn’t have to watch her flirting with some other guy. Why the hell was it bugging him? They weren’t a couple, weren’t involved at all, aside from their business arrangement. Just because she’d almost rocked his world in Italy, just because he was still fantasizing about stripping her naked, didn’t mean she wanted him. Aside from their brief moment in Shane’s kitchen last night—which he was sure now had been all about adrenaline—she’d made it pretty clear she wasn’t interested at all.
So pull your head out and focus on the real reason you’re here, man.
Head clearer, he wove through the crowd away from Lisa and took a closer look at all the players. He mingled, made small talk and listened in as guests speculated about the unveiling expected later, but didn’t learn anything he didn’t already know.
When the music changed, Lisa slid into the crowd with her friend. Every now and then Rafe caught a glimpse of her through the masses, talking with other guests, laughing, flirting. And each time he did, his blood pressure shot up.
He managed a few short conversations and kept an eye out for Landau. When Lisa finally rejoined him almost an hour later, he lifted his glass and sipped, barely sparing her a glance.
She grasped the glass from his hand when he lowered it and set it on a passing steward’s tray with a sigh. “You don’t blend well, Sullivan. Come on.”
She took his hand and pulled him toward the dance floor. Scowling, he followed, not because he wanted to, but because he didn’t want to cause a scene.
“Did you find out anything useful?” she asked as they moved to the music.
He shrugged and looked over her head, careful to keep his hand on her hip and not let it slink around to her bare back, as it wanted to. “Nothing we don’t already know.”
She nodded. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath. Warmth from her skin made his whole body tingle. Her thigh brushed his, the soft movement sending a jolt through him that only aggravated him more. He focused on a spot on the wall.
They turned a slow circle, and when he caught her friend grinning at her from across the room, he just couldn’t stop himself. “One question.”
“Yes?”
Don’t ask it.