The floor beneath her shook.
"The drug we gave her was more powerful than we thought."
The man who'd spoken was so close she could smell his breath. Strong hands gripped her shoulders and drew her into a sitting position.
"She's faking."
Sophie couldn't prevent the wince when the blow struck her cheek.
"C'mon, lady. Wake up." The hands on her shoulders shook her roughly.
"I need her signature on the papers."
She hadn't heard that voice before; it didn't belong to either of her captors. Suddenly, Sophie frowned. Or had she? There was something familiar…
Hands shook her again until her head snapped. She felt the wig being pulled off.
"You fools."
She knew that voice. Where had she heard it before? "You've got the wrong woman."
*
"How lovely," Mac said as the limo Lucas had hired wound its way along a drive banked on either side by multicolored flowers. Even as she said the words, she knew they were inadequate. Lavish was closer to the mark. And the place was certainly well guarded. They'd been stopped at a set of heavy iron gates, and a uniformed security guard had verified their invitation by calling the main house.
The buildings where the wine was made were just as Tracker had described them, sleek and modern in structure, their tall gray windows glinting in the afternoon sun. But it was the villa itself that had sparked her comment. The modern, three-story structure of gray wood and glass was large enough to be a small hotel.
"Falcone has some very lucrative business interests," Lucas said.
Mac blinked. It was the first sentence Lucas had addressed directly to her since they'd been in the diner the night before. He hadn't even spoken when he'd come to her bed and made love to her.
Made love to her. That's what it had felt like. Everything he'd done to her on the plane and in the hotel last night had felt as if he was making love. Last night he'd been so tender, so gentle that she'd thought it was a dream at first. And it had been so erotic. No one had ever done anything like that to her. Just thinking about it had her blood heating and her body melting again.
Then he'd left – without a word.
When she'd awakened, the bed had been empty. But his scent was still on her skin and on the pillow next to hers. She'd found him in the suite devouring another huge breakfast with Tracker.
It was then that she'd made herself face facts – a scientist wasn't worth her weight in salt unless she did that. Whatever they'd shared in the past few days had been just sex to him. He'd agreed to help her with her research, and he desired her. That did not equal love. She'd learned from her research that emotions didn't have to play much of a role when it came to men and sex.
Of course, she'd made it equally clear at the outset that she neither wanted nor expected anything more than to experiment on him like a guinea pig.
She hadn't wanted and she hadn't expected to fall in love with him.
"You know what to do?" Tracker asked from where he sat in the limo.
"Hmm?" Dragging her eyes away from Lucas, she turned to him.
"You know what to do?" he repeated.
"Yes," she said. A moron could have played the part they'd created for her. She was to be "Sally Maxwell," a woman Lucas was currently too infatuated with to leave behind at his hotel. Her dress was more conservative than what the Key West "Sally" might have worn. And she wasn't supposed to do anything to draw attention to herself. But since Falcone had invited her, it wouldn't cause much speculation if "Sally" was to appear as Lucas's guest.
And Tracker's role was to play her brother, Jerry. Turning, Mac checked out Tracker's disguise again. In her opinion, it was perfect. She barely recognized the man who'd sat across from her in the diner last night. "Jerry" was slighter in build. She would have sworn to it in court. His hair was long enough to be pulled back in a ponytail and he wore a diamond stud in his left ear. She would have guessed he was gay. Not Tracker, but this man who was supposed to be her brother was definitely effeminate in the way he talked and walked.
"At some point, Falcone will want to see me alone," Lucas said.
"And that's my cue to mix with the crowd. I'll introduce myself to men. That's the kind of friendly girl Sally is," Mac said.
"While you keep yourself highly visible among the guests, I sneak off to the upper floors and investigate," Tracker finished as the limo pulled to a stop in front of the house. "The moment I find Sophie, I'll take her out. Once we're clear of the estate, I'll call Lucas."
Lucas turned to Mac. "I don't like leaving you alone. As soon as Falcone and I finish our business, I'll come for you. Until then, stay with the other guests. There's always the chance that he'll guess who you really are. The man's smart. I'm banking on the fact that he's not likely to try anything where there are witnesses."
"I don't see why I can't slip away to look for Sophie too. We'd have a better chance of finding her."
"We've been over that," Lucas said. "Falcone will have someone watching all of us. It will be difficult enough for Tracker to—"
Whatever else Lucas would have said was cut off when the driver of the limo opened the door. Tracker slid out first. Mac had one foot on the ground when she caught a glimpse of a tall man with a mane of white hair walking down a shallow set of steps to greet them. She could feel Lucas stiffen behind her just before his arms gripped her shoulders and turned her back toward him.
"Follow orders," he warned in a low voice. Then without warning, his mouth covered hers. The kiss was hard and thorough. And her response was immediate. Her thoughts seemed to explode, then fade into nothing, drowned out by the beat of her heart. She had to get closer. Her hands moved to his shoulders and into his hair. There was no one, nothing but him.
He released her so suddenly that she blinked. Then he was urging her out of the car. As the man she'd spotted earlier reached them and Lucas made the introductions, she concentrated on breathing and keeping her balance.
"Lucas. Welcome, my dear boy." Vincent Falcone enveloped Lucas in a hug. "And I completely understand why you brought Ms. Maxwell. I wouldn't have left her behind at a hotel either."
"I knew you'd understand, and since you mentioned her…" Lucas ran his hand down her arm in a lingering, possessive stroke.
He'd only kissed her for show. Everything he was doing was an act to impress Falcone. Pushing the hurt and the anger down, Mac concentrated on Sophie.
"Anyone you wish to bring is welcome. I want you to think of my home as yours." Turning to Mac, he extended his arm, then waited for her to place her hand on it. "First, Ms. Maxwell, I want you to meet some of my guests. Then while Lucas and I discuss a little business, perhaps you and your brother can enjoy the party?"
She gave him her best "Sally" smile. The sooner he pried Lucas loose from her, the sooner she could look for Sophie. "We'd be delighted."
"Lucas is a very lucky man," Falcone said as he led them into the house.
*
Lucas held his glass up to the light pouring through the glass windows of Vincent Falcone's office. From here, he could see the multicolored tents on the lawn, the rows upon rows of vines fanning out beyond and the winery buildings to his far right.
He took a sip of the pale, gold-green liquid.
"What do you think?" Vincent asked.
"It's quite nice, but I think you didn't ask me in here to solicit my opinion on your prizewinning chardonnay."
Vincent sighed. "Do you ever take a break from business?"
Lucas raised his eyebrows. "Isn't that what you invited me in here to discuss? I'd like to conclude it as quickly as possible."
"Ah, yes. You wish to return to your Sally. A charming girl. Perhaps this will ease your concerns." Moving to a wall, he pushed a button and the panel of a Renoir print slipped silently out of sight. The clear glass that remained offered a view of the main room of the house.
Tracker was talking to a tall blond woman, Falcone's hostess for the patty. It took him a second longer to find Mac who was laughing at something an older gentleman was saying, her hand on his arm. He could almost hear the sound of her laughter in his ear. When the man leaned down to whisper in hers, he felt a sharp stab in his gut.
"She's not your usual type," Vincent said.
Lucas set his glass down with a snap. "That is not the topic of our business either."
"Your grandfather would have liked her," Vincent said.
"What would you know—" Lucas caught himself. What was the matter with him? Mac was flirting with that old man because that was what she was supposed to do. This was the second time that he'd let her distract him. He never should have grabbed and kissed her like that in the limo. It was out of character for him, and it was just the thing that would put Falcone on the alert. He'd better keep his mind on what he had to do. Shifting his gaze to Falcone, he said, "I didn't come in here with you to discuss my grandfather either."
"That's where you're wrong. Our business begins and ends with him." Moving to another painting on the wall, he pushed it aside and began to turn the knob on a small safe. When it was open, he extracted an envelope and held it out to Lucas. "Read this first and then we'll talk."
*
"Tiny Morelli's the name, and you are?"
Mac felt her hand gripped in a vise. When she glanced up, her first thought was that the name was a misnomer. Tiny Morelli was huge. He towered at least a foot above her and his hand was easily the length of her forearm.