Intent to Seduce & A Glimpse of Fire(28)

Lifting her glass, she took a sip. Tonight she was MacKenzie Lloyd and not Sophie Wainright, and she was going to have a good time.

The concierge at her hotel had been right on the money with his recommendation. The Side Street Grill was crowded with people, mostly singles, or at least pretending to be. The last man she’d danced with had forgotten to take off his wedding ring. Tables circled a dance floor, and on the second level, pressed against a balcony railing. On one wall, tall glass windows looked out on a patio lit with Chinese lanterns.

She caught herself rubbing the back of her neck again and immediately dropped her hand to her lap. She was being ridiculous, paranoid. Gripping her wineglass between her fingers, she began to turn it in slow circles on the bar.

Why not admit the truth? She was bored. Lifting her wineglass, she licked a drop off the rim, then set it back down.

Perhaps she should go back to D.C. If only Mac were here to talk to, or even— She set the glass down so fast she nearly overturned it. She couldn’t be wishing that the Shadow were here, could she?

Definitely not! She wanted to torture the man, slowly, not…what? She certainly wasn’t thinking of using some of Mac’s research on him! She didn’t know anything about him, other than that he was big, bigger than Lucas even. And strong. Smart too. When she’d cooled down enough to read the file he’d compiled on Bradley, she’d found his report thorough, well written and concise.

And he’d held her when she’d cried. A lot of men couldn’t stand a woman’s tears, but the Shadow hadn’t been fazed.

She ran her finger around the rim of her wineglass. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to soften toward him because of that.

And if she was wishing him here, it was just because it would give her great satisfaction to give him the slip again. Although if she were to consider using Mac’s research on him… She ran her finger around the top of her wineglass again. There was more than one way to torture a man. She dipped her finger into the wine, then licked the drops off.

“I’ve never seen anyone do quite so many things to a wineglass without actually drinking the wine.”

Sophie froze in her chair. Damn! She knew that voice— Sonny Falcone. Had he recognized her in spite of the wig? How would she explain that she’d told him she’d had to work on her presentation?

“Why don’t you let me buy you a fresh glass? I can recommend one from a local vineyard.”

He hadn’t recognized her. But he still might.

Pushing down the nerves in her stomach, Sophie turned. “No thank you. One is my limit, and I made the mistake of ordering a second one.”

“You know, I have the funniest feeling we’ve met before. And that’s not a pickup line. You remind me of someone…”

“I do that to a lot of people. But we haven’t met. I just arrived in California today.”

“It’s probably the lighting in this place. But I can see I was mistaken. If I’d seen you before, I wouldn’t have forgotten your face.”

Oh, please! What had she ever seen in this man? Had her breakup from Bradley made her this blind? This desperate?

“If I can’t buy you a glass a wine, perhaps I could persuade you to dance?”

“I’d love to dance.” She risked a quick meeting of eyes and felt the nerves settle. He still didn’t recognize her. And she would make sure that he didn’t. “But first I need to freshen up.”

“I’ll be waiting right here.”

For longer than you’d probably like. Sliding from the stool, Sophie threaded her way through the crowd in the direction of the ladies’ room. But she didn’t go inside when she reached it. Instead, she pulled open the door next to it marked Exit. The cool night air was refreshing after the smoky closeness of the bar. Drawing it in, she hurried down the path to the parking lot.

A glance at her watch told her she could still catch the red-eye. Her decision made, she suddenly felt free. Happy. There was only one thing she regretted. She was going to head back to D.C. without ever going up in that hot-air balloon.

But there had to be places to take a balloon ride in Maryland or Virginia. It would be a nice wild-goose chase to take the Shadow on. She was still thinking of that, laughing almost, when she reached her car.

It all happened very quickly. Arms grabbing her, holding her tight. A prick in her arm, and darkness swallowing her up.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN




MOONLIGHT POOLED on the bed, spilling over Mac as she slept.

Mac. Propping himself up on an elbow, Lucas shifted slightly so that he could see her better. She’d fallen sound asleep in the taxi on the way home from the bar. The last thing she’d said to him before she snuggled her head against his shoulder was that since he’d enjoyed the pearls, she knew he would love being wrapped in plastic wrap.

“Plastic wrap?” he’d asked.

“Mummification,” she mumbled against his shirt. “It turns some men on. You can’t move. I can. I can do anything I want. I bet you’ll like it.”

“I don’t think I’ll enjoy smothering to death.”

“You won’t.” She’d giggled then and yawned. “I’ll leave your mouth and nose free and, I think, one other part of you. Maybe I’ll use the pearls again.” He felt her mouth curve against his chest as she moved her hand from where it rested against his chest to the waistband of his slacks. He gripped it there.

“The picture is becoming clearer.”

“The moment you told me you weren’t wearing any boxers or briefs, I knew I had to try the pearls. And they worked.”

They worked all right. Just thinking of the way she’d looped them around his erection and drawn them slowly upward…

She’d moved then, wiggling against him, exactly where he’d grown very hard. “I bet you’ll enjoy the plastic wrap too. I packed a whole roll. We can do it right after we get back to the hotel.”

But they hadn’t gotten to it. They hadn’t gotten to anything. Yet.

MacKenzie Lloyd slept like a rock. He’d had to carry her into the hotel, and he hadn’t had the heart to wake her when they reached the suite. As he’d undressed her and tucked her in, he’d noticed the dark smudges under her eyes. She was exhausted.

And no wonder. When he thought of what they’d done on that pool table. They’d taken turns, and when she’d suggested a position he’d never heard of before, they’d even compromised. He was going to have to get a hold of her research. He certainly was never going to be able to concentrate on his pool game again.

Because he couldn’t help himself, he brushed one finger lightly over the fullness of her bottom lip.

At last he’d met the real MacKenzie Lloyd. And if the glimpses that he’d caught of her before had intrigued him and surprised him, the real deal fascinated him. She played pool as if she’d been raised in a pool hall. Yet he’d seen traces of the scientist too, in the way she set up her shots and measured the angles, almost as if she was solving some kind of problem.

He reached out to brush a curl back from her forehead. But it wasn’t just the logical side of her brain that he admired. It was the imaginative side that quite literally had knocked his socks off.

And when she set out to seduce him, she drove him…crazy.

Tracing a finger down the soft curve of her cheek, he smiled. Who would have thought that the prim and proper Dr. Lloyd had an alter ego who was wicked and wild?

But then he’d never thought of himself as a man who could get caught up in wild fantasies or risky sexual games. What they’d done tonight had been plenty risky—but fun.

Anything might be fun with Mac.

Except for the plastic-wrap thing. He was going to have to draw the line at being rolled up in that. Then suddenly he grinned. Perhaps he’d have to turn the tables on her and see just how much she liked “mummification.” He traced a finger lightly down her throat and over the rise of one breast until he let it rest on the peak. Of course, he’d have to leave some parts free.

As the images began to fill his mind, he shook his head to clear it. If he allowed himself to pursue that fantasy, he wouldn’t let her sleep. He wouldn’t get any sleep himself. And they would have plenty of time.

Time. Just that one word sent the first little ripple of unease through him.

He wanted to go on seeing Mac. And he could. There was nothing to prevent their spending more time together when they returned to D.C. He could picture her there even now. In his apartment, in his office…in his life?

The direction his thoughts were taking had the ripple of unease growing into a full-blown wave.

As quietly as he could, Lucas slipped from beneath the sheet and eased himself up from the bed. After glancing back once to make sure that she hadn’t stirred, Lucas pulled on his slacks and let himself out of the bedroom.

Moonlight streamed into the large sitting area, bright enough to have him squinting a little as he crossed to the bar and poured himself a snifter of brandy. He had to think, to plan. Somehow, lying there beside Mac, he’d stopped doing that. He’d felt so—he struggled to find the right word—content.

Lifting the glass to his lips, he took a long swallow and welcomed the burn as it slid down his throat. He didn’t want to feel that way. It didn’t last. There was no one that you could allow yourself to depend on that much. Those were the rules he’d lived by. Survived by.