Against the Odds

by Donna Kauffman

  “I’m intrigued. What did you think I chose?”

  “I never saw the brochure. I came up with my own.”

  “Did you now. And I suppose, given your earlier comments, they had something to do with me ordering about my royal subjects.”

  Now his expression turned downright wicked. It gave her the most delicious sensation between her tightly clenched thighs.

  “Actually, you said something a bit…revealing, when we first met.”

  “Did I?” She wracked her brain, but it had been such a momentarily mortifying situation, she had no idea what all she’d said. “What did I reveal?”

  “Well, let’s just say I don’t believe you wanted to be the one doing the ordering.”

  Now she knew she was splotchy. He simply grinned knowingly and leaned back in his seat.

  When she refused to respond—after all, what could she have said?—he said, “Brochure packages aside, you must have compiled a list of sorts, of things you wanted to experience.”

  She lifted one eyebrow, drawing on every skill Miss Pottingham ever expounded on, and said, quite stiffly, “You’re willing to do the entire list then? How noble of you.”

  He paled, for just a split second, but it was enough to make her burst out laughing. “Honestly, Tucker, when I walked away from Blackstone’s I’d pretty much given up on my quest, as you called it. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with doing things that way, anyway. I just thought that was my only chance.”

  “So…why are we here?”

  “Because you offered me an adventure. A real one, not one for hire. If I happen to learn a few things on the way…” She shrugged, then allowed a wicked smile of her own to surface as she picked up his hand. She turned it palm up and traced her fingers across the warm expanse of skin. “Well, let’s just say I’m fairly certain you could teach me a few things. And I mean that in a flattering you-make-my-knickers-wet kind of way.”

  He’d just picked up his water. Her casually spoken words had him choking on his first sip.

  She laughed. Maybe that’s why he was so perfect. Because he wasn’t at all perfect. He was just right. “Are you still game?”

  He flipped her hand over and trapped it neatly on the table beneath his. All she could think about was having him trap her body just as neatly.

  “You only have four days?”

  Now it was her turn to choke a little.

  He gave her a considering look, then grinned. “If we’re focused, we might be able to squeeze it all in by then.”

  The waiter brought their food to the table then and he released her hand and picked up his fork. “Just so I understand the rules here—”

  “There are no rules,” she said, shakily picking up her own silverware.

  “Perfect. Then I get to do some exploring of my own as well? I have a few of my own little forbidden fantasies.”

  “Okay, one rule,” she clarified, trying not to gulp…or imagine just what kind of fantasies he considered forbidden.

  He just smiled. “Only one?”

  She just gave him a look. “We have to both be willing or we find something else to try.”

  “I think I can handle that.”

  7

  FOREPLAY OVER SALAD. What in the hell had he been thinking? He could be in a suite at the Bellagio right this very second. Naked, buried deep inside the woman sitting across from him. Instead he was eating arugula.

  “Will you be caring for any dessert?”

  Tucker looked up at the waiter and had to restrain himself from saying, “Yeah, her.”

  “None for me,” Misty offered.

  He caught her gaze and she sent him a dazzling little smile. A smile that said she might have been refraining from offering a similar answer. Oh what he would have given to see the waiter’s expression if she had said it, delivered in that perfect, oh-so-proper little accent of hers.

  He really had to get them out of here.

  “Nothing for me, either,” he said, and handed the waiter a couple of twenties. “Keep the change.”

  “Now see here—” Misty began.

  “Thanks,” the waiter said, smart enough to beat it with his generous tip before Misty could get another word in.

  Tucker stood and extended his hand.

  She folded hers in her lap. “I am more than capable of paying for a meal, or a taxi for that matter. I must insist that we discuss this entire arrangement.”

  He simply reached down and took her hands from her lap and pulled her to her feet. “No rules, you said.”

  “I believe I added the caveat that we’d only do something if we both agreed.”

  “I thought you just meant when we were naked.” He didn’t bother to keep his voice down.

  She sent him a look that would have withered a duke, or whatever. “Oh, honestly.” She snatched her hand from his and pushed past him.

  He was right behind her, leaning close and whispering, “I love it when you get in a snit. It makes me hot.”

  She whirled around and glared in the face of his wide grin. “I do not get into snits.”

  He merely raised his eyebrows.

  Her lips twitched then. “You’re insufferable, you know.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “So I would imagine.”

  He couldn’t help it. He simply had to taste her. Right there on the sidewalk, diners looking on. He pulled her close before she knew what he was about. Whatever she’d been about to say was muffled by his mouth coming down on hers.

  She started to pull away, but he was lost at the first taste of her. His hands gentled. His mouth did not. Then she sighed and relaxed into the kiss, her arms drifting to his shoulders, and he forgot the rest of the world existed.

  She might claim to have a few things to learn, but kissing wasn’t one of them. He quickly discovered she knew her way around a man’s mouth. God have mercy. He finally forced himself to break away. It was that or give new meaning to the term “dining al fresco.”

  He took one last little taste of her bottom lip—“dessert,” he murmured—then let her go. “Next meal we have is your treat, okay? And you can pay for the cab anytime you want.”

  “Um—” Her eyes were a bit unfocused, her lips all soft and thoroughly kissed. She cleared her throat, moved farther away from the railing circling the café tables. “Fine, that will be fine.”

  Tucker ducked inside and asked the first waiter he saw to call another taxi, then met her at the curb. He cupped her elbow, leaned in close. “Do we need to discuss public displays of seduction?”

  “No,” she said, her bearings somewhat restored. “I believe we’ve covered that quite well already.”

  He grinned and turned her so she faced him. “So, any voyeuristic fantasies on your list?”

  She gave him a saucy little smile. “As it happens, that little scene back there notwithstanding, no. You?”

  “No. But that accent of yours is making me rethink my feelings on dominatrix scenarios.”

  Now that was quite a wicked gleam. It made those gemstone eyes all but shoot sparks. He enjoyed the hot slice of pleasure that snaked down his spine. He’d always been more of an equal opportunity guy in bed, but the more he was around her, the more he felt his boundaries expanding.

  “You were right, about me not wanting to order my subjects about, as it were,” she said, those sparks so deliciously at odds with the haughty tone, “but I’ll certainly take your interest under advisement.”

  The cab pulled up then and he helped her in. Her hands were so pale and perfect, her fingers slender, her nails short but a tender pink. He knew that, despite her English rose appearance, there was nothing remotely fragile about her, and yet he felt this incredible need to be gentle. Like she was something exquisitely delicate that he’d never risk marring in any way. He climbed in beside her, imagining his harder, bigger body, covering her smaller, more refined one.

  This led to images of her astride him, all that translucent skin sinking down over his darker,
thicker—

  “Where to?” the cabbie asked.

  Misty glanced at him questioningly.

  “The Bellagio.” If the tightness in his voice gave away his thoughts, oh well. God, everything he had was tight. And what wasn’t tight was almost painfully hard.

  This time she took his hand, slipped her fingers through his and gave him a light squeeze. It was almost as if she was reassuring him, which should have been ludicrous. Except her touch was reassuring. They were well and truly in this together.

  They rode in silence. Her gaze averted out the window, giving him ample time to study her, to think about what they were about to do. It struck him that whereas he’d normally just go with the flow, make sure everyone involved had a good time before going on their merry way…he was already worried about how long she was going to stay, what he’d do if she decided to leave after this afternoon. Which was ridiculous considering he hardly even knew her. Had barely tasted her.

  If ever a chance to have a wild no-strings affair were to present itself, this was certainly it. And it had been her idea! So the last thing he should be concerned with was where it would lead.

  To the airport, he thought. With separate flights taking us our separate ways.

  He looked down at their joined hands and tried to remember all the reasons why never seeing her again would be a good thing. Even one would help.

  The cab slowed and pulled into the wide entrance to the hotel. The stunning fountain display sent water thrusting skyward in rocketing, crystalline pillars, all in an artistic pattern meant to awe. He didn’t even notice. He was more involved watching her, wondering where her thoughts were.

  She turned to him just then, as the cab slowed to a stop. That saucy grin had resurfaced. “You know, I never thought of fountains as being particularly phallic, however all that spouting and surging has rather carnal overtones, don’t you agree?”

  Tucker had to laugh at himself. Here he was pondering fates and futures…and she was focused on their real reason for being together. Their only reason.

  Her lips quirked. “Why the dubious look? Having sudden performance anxiety?” She paid the cabbie and slid out of the car after him, then glanced pointedly at the arc of fountains thundering skyward. “Don’t worry, I don’t have any grand illusions.”

  Tucker decided he could worry about what might have been later. Right now he wanted to join her in the fun. To that end, he snagged her arm as she whirled away from him and spun her neatly around…and full up against him. “Maybe you should.”

  Her eyes went round as her hips collided with his. “My, my,” she managed. “Perhaps I should indeed.”

  He escorted her inside, completely unaware of the grandiose lobby, the glass flowers overhead. He only had eyes for her. Somehow they managed to find their way to the bank of elevators. He pushed the up button, but she was tugging his hand away.

  “Wait a minute.”

  “Having second thoughts?”

  She shook her head, her lips curving in a smile that could only be deemed naughty. “No, just thinking there was something on that list you spoke of, something I’ve always wanted to do.”

  His own lips curved. “In the elevator? Well, as a matter of fact, that’s something I—”

  “No,” she said, “though we must discuss that further.” She tugged his arm and ducked around the corner, nodding to the door marked Stairs.

  “Ah.” He pulled the heavy door open and they both slipped inside. All the noise and hubbub of the lobby evaporated the instant the door clicked shut. Tucker glanced up the utilitarian stairwell. “What floor did you say you were on?”

  “Top floor. Penthouse suite.”

  That raised an eyebrow. “You do sell a lot of books.”

  “I do,” she said matter-of-factly, “but I owe this particular decadence to Lucas Blackstone. I don’t know how he found out I didn’t go to the airport, probably the driver. But there were explicit instructions to upgrade my accommodations.”

  “Hell of an upgrade.”

  She shrugged and laughed. “What can I say?”

  “And you give me grief for wanting to buy you lunch.”

  She stepped in closer, toyed with the top button of his shirt. “I’m not planning to seduce Lucas Blackstone. And, for the record, I did decline his hospitality. The staff of the hotel insisted, and I do so try to avoid making a scene.”

  Tucker liked the feeling of her fingers brushing against his throat. In fact, he liked her brushing against any part of him. “How very thoughtful of you, then.”

  “Yes, how very,” she responded, somewhat distractedly. Her focus was on his shirt, specifically the way it fit his chest and shoulders, which she was presently testing by smoothing her palms over them.

  “Exactly—” He had to pause, clear his throat. “Exactly what is your stairwell fantasy?”

  She smiled up at him. “Oh, nothing in particular. I just want to experience that dangerous thrill of possibly being caught.” She slipped around him and danced up the first couple of stairs.

  He remained at the base. “No voyeuristic tendencies, huh?”

  “Oh no, I don’t want anyone to actually watch, or even catch us. It’s just knowing they could.”

  He rested his hand on the railing, propped his foot on the bottom step. “Which means they might. Then what?”

  She danced up a few more steps, stopping on the landing. “Well, if they couldn’t there wouldn’t be the thrill of discovery, would there? The risk is the point.”

  He moved up one step. “And I’m asking what happens if you get caught? Headlines, bad press…”

  She laughed. “Authors enjoy the anonymity of having well-known names, but largely unrecognizable faces. So, if we get caught, well…” She shrugged. “I’ll make something up. It is what I do.”

  Tucker underscored the mental note to find a bookstore later. He wanted to learn all there was to know about her. Certainly something of who she was showed in her work. It couldn’t be entirely fictional if it came from her mind. If nothing else, it would help him understand some of her fantasies. Of course, a few hours from now, he might not need her books to learn that.

  “How very wicked,” she mused as he smiled. “What naughty little thought just crossed your mind?”

  He charged the stairs, making her yelp and run up the next flight. “Hey,” he said, hitting the landing and starting up the next step. “Is chasing you part of this? Because I need to know just how many floors it’s supposed to take. I have to pace myself if you want me to actually be able to do anything when I finally catch you.”

  She leaned over the railing, one floor up. “You run up stairs for a living, don’t you, Fire Marshal Greywolf? And this time you’ve got no gear. And the building’s not even on fire.” Now she was the one with the wicked grin. “Just me.”

  “Oh, okay. So that’s how you want to play.” He took to the stairs, grinning. She was right about his level of fitness. Although he didn’t fight fires anymore, just investigated them after the fact, he still maintained the standards of any firefighter. You never knew when you’d be put to the test.

  Of course, he thought, as he took the next flight two at a time, at this pace he wouldn’t want to test his sexual prowess after thirty-plus flights. Still…she definitely knew how to get his adrenaline going. After another two flights, he slowed. Not because he needed to conserve energy, but because he was discovering the chase to be a bit of a turn-on himself and he didn’t want to end it too soon.

  Her breathless laughter floated down to him, spurring him on. Three flights later, he cornered her on a landing, midfloor. “Madam,” he said, his tone one of playful warning, “do you realize this area is off-limits?”

  Her eyes sparkled as he advanced on her. “I—I didn’t realize, sir.”

  He boxed her into the corner. “Oh, but I think you do. Otherwise, why did you run when I came into the stairwell?”

  Her pupils expanded. Her nipples jutted tightly against the soft weav
e of her top. “I didn’t know who you were…what you might want from me.”

  He crowded her, until her back came up against the wall. “And just what did you think I wanted?”

  Her breath was shallow and fast. “I saw you. Earlier. Watching me.”

  “I can’t take my eyes off of you,” he said, quite honestly. “You captivate me.”

  “It—you looked so…”

  “Hungry?” He braced his arms on the wall beside her head. “I was. Am.”

  “That’s why I ran.”

  He stepped in closer, finding himself incredibly aroused when she trembled. He’d never role-played in his life, not sexually, and would have thought he’d feel silly. At the moment, there was nothing remotely silly about the raging hard-on he had. “You watched me, too.” He lowered one hand to her face, traced her lips. “You licked these, like you wanted to lap something else.”

  She shuddered…and nodded.

  “So why run? Did you think I’d hurt you? Force you to do something you didn’t want to do?” He pushed the tip of his finger into her mouth. “How could I, when you so obviously want the same things I do?”

  Her gaze was riveted on his…and then he felt the tentative swipe of her tongue along his finger. Her mouth worked, pulled him in deeper.

  Now he was the one trembling. “Be careful,” he warned her, not entirely sure he was role-playing any longer. “I’ve wanted you for a long time. You’re playing with fire here. And I know all about fire. How easily it can rage out of control.”

  A soft moan sounded in her throat and he was undone. He slid the finger from her wet lips and crushed his mouth to hers instead. Not waiting for an invitation, he pushed his tongue into her sweet, hot mouth, wanting to feel that softness contract around his tongue the way it had around his finger. Wanting even more to feel her softness contract around him. All of him.

  Her hands skated up his chest. He took them and pinned them to the wall. Not because he needed to dominate, but because he didn’t trust himself where her hands were concerned. Her touch did wild things to him. And right now, he was handling all the wild he could manage.

  She stiffened for a brief moment when her wrists touched the wall, but his insistent kisses had her going limp again. When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, she whimpered. And damn if he didn’t almost come in his pants. Jesus, he’d never seen a woman look so aroused, so wanton, so needy. And he’d never been so brutally aware that the man who’d gotten her that way was him. Role-playing or not, he didn’t care.