by Julie Leto
“This could not have been the future you foresaw for yourself when you stole that stone from Valoren,” he said as Mariah led him to the grand staircase, a twinkle of desire lighting her amber eyes.
“It’s exactly what I foresaw,” she insisted. “I am a treasure hunter. And you, sir, are the greatest treasure a woman could ever find.”
************
Thank you for reading KISS OF THE PHANTOM! If you would like to read the previous two books in the Phantom series, click here to learn more about the other titles in this series.
DARE ME
Author's Note: This story isn’t connected to either my Dirty or my Phantom series, but is a blend of suspense with sensual contemporary romance. Dare Me is a grand seduction where the hard-hearted Macy Rush must submit to a powerful man’s desires in order to save the world...
One
“The house is perfect. I’ll take it.”
Macy Rush waited for the real estate agent to respond, but wasn’t entirely surprised when her offer to purchase the Garden District home for twice its asking price went unheeded. From the minute she crossed the threshold, she’d smelled a set-up—a fact verified by the next voice she heard.
“That’s going to be a problem, Macy, since I already own this pleasure palace.”
Macy didn’t turn around. Only one man could set her on edge with one simple sentence. But in fighting her instinct to spin and knock his inevitably cocky grin off his face, her other senses zinged to high alert. Her skin rippled with gooseflesh, as if each individual pore was reaching out to touch him. His scent—a woodsy, spiced aroma tinged with the sweet smokiness of tobacco—intensified the prickle up the nape of her neck. The air crackled with electricity, as if he was a living conduit.
Powerful.
Dangerous.
“Dante Burke,” she said, announced, steeling herself as she turned. Seeing him again could knock her off guard—if she let it. But she’d die before she so much as a catch of her breath. He’d done his damage. She’d recovered and she had no intention of suffering a relapse. “Why am I not surprised?”
The woman who had shown her the house beat a quick path to the back door. Macy noted the retreat and then locked gazes with Dante, the man who had ripped her reputation, her career and her heart to shreds.
He was still gorgeous, damn him. Slick, dark hair pulled back into a queue. Rich, tanned skin that glowed from the St. Tropez sun. A lithe, muscled body accentuated by a suit that probably cost as much as the asking price of the house. Still breathtaking and consequently, still lethal—and still so full of himself, she wondered there was room for both and his ego in the expansive entrance hall.
Wordlessly, he gestured to the front parlor. When she didn’t instantly comply, he entered without her. He moved like James Bond, with a dash of Fred Astaire. She rolled her eyes. Only Dante Burke could manage to be insufferable when he’d done nothing more than walk into a room.
“Not surprised by my initiative? You shouldn’t be. Stands to reason that the Arm would beat T-45 to the most important property in New Orleans. Especially with world peace at stake. I bought the place two weeks ago.”
“And yet the house is still listed on the market,” she said, her hands inching into the pockets on her jacket. Beneath the slick leather, she caressed the cool steel of her backup firearm, a sleek 9mm Smith & Wesson Ladysmith. With her main weapon tucked in her shoulder holster and several alternative weapons strapped to various parts of her body, she should have felt entirely secure, even in Dante’s unsettling presence. But she had a good idea of why he’d beaten her here. He was about to seriously screw up her case.
Again.
“Why didn’t you remove the listing?”
“Friendly neighbors delivering casseroles can be such a nuisance. As long as there is no owner, there is no reason for the locals to nose about.”
He wandered toward the window. He’d likely spotted her fellow T-45 agents positioned across the street. They’d been ordered to watch her back. Lot of help they’d do her now. The enemy was within.
“You’re the first showing I’ve allowed,” he said, turning, his self-assured grin confirming her supposition.
Clearly, he knew why she was here. He’d likely come for the exact same reason.
“How gentlemanly of you,” she lied, “letting me see something you have no intention of letting me have.”
“I’m just that kind of guy.”
The slight European lilt in his voice fueled her ire and she had to force her lungs to take in air evenly. He hadn’t been overseas in years. Since birth, practically. And yet he still possessed that distinctly urbane air that had once attracted her all-American girl hormones.
Luckily for her, his past transgressions kept his allure in perspective. “Don’t get me started on the kind of guy you are, Dante. You won’t like my assessment.”
“I’ll just enjoy the sound of your voice.”
“Enjoy this then,” she snapped, starting toward the door. “You’re a son of a bitch who can’t be trusted. And now that I know you’re here, I’ll return to Paris and throw one hell of a party. With you in charge, the world will come to an end soon. And if it’s going out with a bang, then so will I.”
With the lightning fast reflexes that had propelled him to the top echelon of international intrigue, Dante grabbed her arm. But Macy was no slouch. She spun, ducked and rolled, ending her move with Dante’s arm pressed tightly against his back. He’d likely let her get the upper hand, but she wouldn’t refuse it.
“Don’t touch me,” she warned through clenched teeth. Her emotions raged, a lethal combination of anger, spite and fear. He wouldn’t control her again. Not ever again. If she allowed him even the slightest element of domination, he’d find ways to rule her entirely.
He answered with a whisper that was both smooth and hypnotic. “I plan to touch you extensively and intimately over the next few days, love. And you’ll let me. In fact, you’re going to beg me.”
She could break his arm. He’d hardly tensed his muscles against her counterattack. Probably didn’t think she meant business. Cracking a bone would prove otherwise.
But exacting revenge on her ex wasn’t her mission. She couldn’t allow her emotions to interfere. She needed the house. Short of brute force—and she was certain the three-story cottage was crawling with agents from the Arm who would relish the chance to take her down—she had to go a different route.
She released him, pushed him away roughly, though he barely stumbled. With utter coolness, he straightened the cuffs of his tailored shirt.
“You’re full of yourself, Dante.”
“That’s part of what you loved about me.”
“Once. I don’t make the same mistakes twice.”
He arched a dark brow, which only made his light gray eyes more piercing, more mesmerizing. “Don’t make such declarations so quickly. I haven’t offered you my deal yet.”
“I didn’t come here to deal,” she countered.
“No, you came here to buy this house so you could find the hidden code that might—might—avert a nuclear attack on the United States from unnamed terrorists who, at this moment, are threatening to hijack an abandoned missile silo somewhere in the vast Russian wilderness and use the forgotten warhead to start World War Three.”
So he did know her mission. Top to bottom, with every detail dispensed in his signature iced vodka voice.
Damn, damn, damn.
“They don’t have the silo, yet,” she pointed out. “Chances are, the Russians will stop them before they get that far.”
Dante laughed and Macy admitted, silently, that her faith was utterly ridiculous. The Russians were no longer a cold-war powerhouse. Since the break-up of the Soviet Union, the eastern bloc nations remained in horrible disarray. When T-45, an independent agency of Western operatives, received intelligence that a terrorist group was trying to secure an abandoned silo, they hadn’t been too worried. The silos had all been disarmed. Or so
they’d been told.
Then the organization had been contacted by a consortium of Russian industrialists who confessed that while they’d pocketed the money paid to them by the struggling Russian government to disarm the silos, they’d left approximately one hundred live nukes in the most remote regions of the country. Too expensive and too hard to reach, they’d claimed by way of excuse. And now, too hard to effectively protect from an unnamed threat.
So the consortium hired T-45 to clean up the mess. It had been Macy’s team who had found evidence that a counter-code might exist—one that would render any previously determined launch codes useless.
Unfortunately, the mathematical fail-safe was proving difficult to find. Several potential locations existed, so she’d dispatched a team to each one. But she’d kept the likeliest location for herself, not knowing that her choice would lead her back into the scope and sights of Dante Burke.
Things must be grimmer than she’d been led to believe if the Arm was involved. The covert branch of the CIA didn’t engage in operations on American soil unless all other avenues had been explored.
“What do you know about the code?” she asked, dropping all pretense.
“I know that I’ve had a crack team searching this house for two weeks and… nothing.”
“So give up,” she suggested coolly. “Turn the house over to T-45 and get the hell out of my way.”
“No can do, Macy. We both know that if the terrorists take a silo and break the launch code, they’ll point that intercontinental ballistic missile at a U.S. target. This is a national security issue. T-45 needs to butt out.”
Dante surveyed the room, his eyes assessing the vintage furnishings with cool familiarity, never lingering on one thing—other than the mirror—for more than a split second. Typical. And to think she’d once found his arrogance exciting.
“T-45 has been paid handsomely to find the code,” she told him. “That’s what we intend to do.”
He mulled her admission for a moment, then grinned cryptically. “Hired, I take it, by the same consortium that should have disarmed the missiles twenty years ago? We were wondering how they’d try to cover their asses.”
“Now you know.”
“Makes no difference. I have the house, but no code. You have nothing.”
Macy ran her hand through her hair, somewhat surprised to catch Dante’s eyes soften as she did so. What was he up to?
“You’re wrong. I have me. I’m the best finder in the business. You supervised my training, remember? How long did I take to excel beyond the Arm’s rudimentary procedures? Weeks? Months? If the code is here, I’ll find it.”
“Only if you have access to the house.”
Macy knew she’d regret her next move, but she had no choice. She had a mission to complete. She couldn’t allow her pent-up feelings toward Dante to keep her from achieving her objective.
“So let’s deal,” she offered.
He leaned back into a Georgian antique library chair, the winged back surrounding him like the tall neck of a vampirish cape. She should have been immune to his mysterious allure by now. Not that his charisma mattered. As long as she had the spirit of a good fight in her bones, she’d remain safe from his magnetic pull.
“I’d hoped you’d want to bargain,” he said. “In fact, I have a proposal I believe you’ll find quite tempting.”
God, she was going to regret this. “Let’s hear it.”
He folded his hands together and steepled his long fingers. She couldn’t fight the tiny chill chasing up her spine.
“I’ll allow you access to any and all rooms in the house, one at a time, over the course of the next week. I’ll clear all Arm agents from the premises. Your work will be entirely secure. If you find the code, you can take the sequence back to the consortium, though I will insist that the Arm receive a duplicate code in case the industrialists do not work in the best interest of the United States.”
Macy was a lot of things, but gullible wasn’t one of them.
“What’s the catch?”
He grinned and his eyes slanted into a stare that was nothing short of predatory. “I want you.”
“Excuse me?”
He stood and crossed the room in three smooth steps. On instinct, Macy drew her gun, just in time to press the barrel against the taut muscles of his stomach. The force of the steel against his vulnerable flesh didn’t seem to faze him one iota.
In fact, he looked down at her with amusement dancing in his gray eyes. “Need I say it twice, love? I want you, and if you wish to search my house, I intend to have you. In any and all ways possible.”
Two
If he’d had any sense all, Dante would have worn his Kevlar this morning. As the luridness of his offer slowly seeped into Macy’s brain, the jab of the gun against his gut increased. If she was any other woman and he’d made the same sexual offer, he wouldn’t have entertained even an inkling of fear that he’d be turned down, much less that he’d be shot for his audacity.
But he wasn’t dealing with any other woman. Macy Rush not only had motive, and now opportunity, to kill him, she had enough justification to warrant an immediate acquittal from any court in the land.
“Offer denied,” she said, her words seething through her teeth. “Try again.”
He shifted his position, but Macy simply shoved the gun further into his flesh. He’d ordered his men to leave him and Macy alone. They wouldn’t disobey until shots were fired—which would be too late for him at that point, but at least the house wouldn’t fall into the hands of T-45.
Not that he was worried. The terrorists who’d made the threat reportedly didn’t have the manpower to bring their plan to fruition. Of course, most international anarchists did not reveal their true intentions or capabilities to their potential targets. He couldn’t afford to underestimate them—not with so much at stake.
Still, time was on his side. Both the Arm and T-45, he knew, had dispatched teams to thwart the terrorists on the ground. And with Macy looking for the code, he figured he’d have the crucial combination in a matter of days—if it even existed. He could afford to hitch the mission on his own personal agenda.
He couldn’t change the past, but the future was ripe for the taking.
Just like Macy.
Boldly, he pressed closer so that her breasts crushed against his chest. The old fire they’d once shared instantly sparked. He could see the attraction in her crystal blue eyes. He could feel the lust in the stiffening of his sex.
“My offer stands, Macy. I want you back. Truth be told, I never wanted you to leave.”
“Then you shouldn’t have betrayed me.”
“I can explain that.”
He didn’t bother to try, though. Even before her eyes narrowed with keen disbelief, he knew Macy wasn’t ready to listen. Any explanation he offered now would fall on ears deafened by anger and righteous indignation—reactions he’d expected, anticipated, even planned for. If he had to choose from the full range of Macy’s fiery emotions, anger wouldn’t have been his first choice to deal with—but it sure as hell beat indifference.
“You’ve had ten years to create an elaborate explanation for your actions, Dante. I can only imagine what spin you’ve come up with. But I don’t want to hear excuses. Not now. Not ever. I’m only interested in finding the code.”
He leaned slightly forward, so that his breath teased her wispy red bangs. “I’m offering you the chance to find the code with virtually no interference from the Arm. All you have to do is let me make love to you.”
Without warning, Macy pocketed her gun and stepped away. She shrugged her jacket closed, but not before he noticed the tell-tale peak of her nipples through her smoky blue silk blouse. The sight evoked a surge through his blood that heightened his confidence and libido. Yes, he wanted her. That much he’d known. But she wanted him, too—whether she liked it or not.
Chemistry was a powerful thing.
“You’re becoming sloppy in your old age, Dante,
allowing personal desires to interfere with a mission.”
Dante shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes remained trained on Macy as she stalked around the room. She’d already begun her search.
“Actually, the economy of my plan is quite impressive, since I’ll accomplish two crucial goals at one time. It’s win-win.”
Macy speared him with a spiteful glare. “You think it’s impressive to hinge the success of our mission on me having sex with you?”
He grinned. “Flowers and poetry don’t move you, my love. They never have. But dangle the carrot of another successful mission in front of you and you can’t resist.”
Macy pressed her lips tightly together and from inside the pockets of her jacket, he could see her fists straining against the leather. Like him, Macy was a professional liar. She could fool the best that the world’s intelligence agencies offered. But so could he. Even from the beginning, they’d learned that lying to each other was a complete waste of time. He’d managed to feed her a mistruth only once since he’d known her—and that decision had cost him her love.
Love he was determined to get back.
“Macy, you must admit,” he continued. “I’ve taken good care of myself over the years. I’m not unattractive. I can’t imagine you’d consider sleeping with me such a huge sacrifice.”
She arched a dark red brow. “Are you so hard up?”
“No, just hard.”
“That’s crass,” she sniped.
“No, that’s honest.”
Without response, she stepped into the foyer, moving around the partitioning wall so she could see fully into the house—and escape his close scrutiny. From the street, the cottage appeared relatively small, though he had no doubt she’d studied the blueprints during her mission prep. But now that she was finally inside, she would recognize the impressive scope of the layout. The nooks and crannies built into the walls—the overflow of antiques that filled nearly every space.