It lasted only an instant, that quick flare of insanity, before a deep-throated chuckle behind her cut through the horny haze.
She pulled back from the kiss, dazed and confused.
“You two oughta get a room,” drawled the chuckler in a broad Western twang.
Adam’s gaze flicked over her shoulder, an irritable glance. But his lips curved into a reluctant half smile. Turning her around by the shoulders, he said, “Maddie, meet Dakota.”
She froze like a statue. Dakota Rain. Probably the hugest movie star in the world. Certainly the only person who could have distracted her from Adam.
“Dakota, this is Maddie St. Clair.”
“The lady prosecutor.” Dakota grinned his trademark I’ve-got-the-world-by-the-balls grin. “Nice to meet you, Miz St. Clair.”
She gulped. “The same, Mr. Rain.”
She shook his offered hand, going giddy when he slickly hooked her fingers through his elbow. “How ’bout Maddie and Dakota?” he drawled. “I got a feeling we’ll be friends.” He took a step toward the door.
Adam’s hand fell on his shoulder. “Find your own woman,” he said, unhooking Maddie’s hand and tucking it under his own arm. Then he tipped his head toward the street. “Isn’t that Ashley getting out of her car?”
“Aw, hell.” Dakota all but ducked. “That girl can really hold a grudge.” He dropped a quick wink at Maddie. “See you later, gorgeous.” And he disappeared inside.
“You needn’t look so disappointed,” said Adam, dryly.
“Disappointed?” Maddie gave him an are-you-nuts stare. “Dakota Rain just called me gorgeous.”
“Yes, and you were spellbound.” He sounded disgusted.
“Well, duh. I’ve seen every one of his movies.”
The doorman waved them into the jam-packed lobby. Adam nudged her out of the fray. His voice was stern, and seriously annoyed. “Don’t trust Dakota. He’s not the romantic hero he plays on screen. He’d have you out of that dress in a New York minute, then never return your calls.”
She rolled her eyes. Like she expected to ride off into the sunset with Dakota Rain.
Still, it was a timely reminder and she took it to heart, if not exactly how he meant it. “Thanks for the tip, but I know very well there’s no such thing as romance.”
Then she nipped off the conversation by tugging his hand toward the ballroom. “Come on, let’s find the food. I’m starving.”
“I told you to eat lunch,” he muttered, with his nose out of joint. But he laced his fingers through hers and they stepped into the stream.
It was a crush, celebrities rubbing elbows with politicians and socialites, everyone glittering in sequins and jewels. Maddie took it in stride, managed to do blasé while she soaked up the swank. Until she hit the ballroom.
Decked out for maximum glitz, it was totally, riotously over the top. Soaring columns, brilliant tapestries, gigantic feathers spearing from oversized vases. And trees—actual full-sized trees—sheathed in twinkling lights.
It was a fairy tale, brought lavishly to life by the star-studded crowd circulating through it.
Their entrance drew stares, as expected, but it still made her cringe. She shunned the limelight under the best of circumstances, which these definitely weren’t.
Still, the gawkers weren’t as annoying as those who pretended she wasn’t there at all.
“Oooh, Adam.” The delighted purr came from a long-stemmed beauty with a waterfall of blond. She coiled around his arm, gazing up at him from eyes so vividly violet that they must have been enhanced.
Like her rack was enhanced, Maddie thought snidely. She could pitch lawn chairs on that balcony and serve cocktails for four.
“I haven’t seen you in ages.” One crimson nail traced Adam’s collar. “You don’t call, you don’t write.”
He smiled with what looked to be genuine warmth. “Andrea. You look lovely.” He nudged Maddie into her sightline. “Maddie, darling, this is Andrea Lyon.”
The violet eyes dropped ten inches to meet Maddie’s, and widened slightly. A smile quirked Andrea’s lips, like she was expecting Adam to pat his little sister’s head and send her off to play.
Instead, his hand on Maddie’s waist tugged her closer, so her shoulder bumped his chest. “Andrea, meet my date, Maddie St. Clair.”
It was a cheap thrill watching the A-list beauty fall speechless. But the woman had talent to go with her looks and she drew on it now.
Morphing from pouting lover to pure femme fatale, she slid Adam a sultry wink. “I’ll be in New York all weekend,” she stage-whispered, “if you get tired of Tinker Bell.” Then she melted into the crowd.
Maddie held out her hand. “Ten bucks.”
Adam grinned. “Why don’t I buy you a drink instead?”
“Fine. Because if you’ve screwed as many of these women as I think you have, I’m gonna need it.”
They inched across the room, waylaid by former—and wannabe—lovers cooing over Adam, by politicians back-slapping him, millionaires rubbing elbows, and A-list actors buddying up. Everyone wanted a piece of him. And all were patently surprised when he glued most of his attention to Maddie.
“I thought the plan was for everyone to think I’ve lost my head over you,” she said when they reached the bar. It was their first moment of privacy since entering the ballroom. “So what’s with the caveman act?”
His brows rose half an inch.
“You know. The Clint Eastwood squint, the possessive arm around my waist.” She jabbed the offending limb with one pointy finger.
He tightened his grip, brought her hips up against his. “Who said it’s an act?”
She licked lips that had gone suddenly dry. “Yeah, right. Anyway, you’ve got everyone thinking you’re into me. It’s all over the Twittersphere by now.”
“That doesn’t trouble me in the least.”
“Well, it’s troubling every woman in the room.”
“Even you?”
“No. Because I know you’ve got something up your sleeve.”
The bartender appeared and Adam looked away long enough to order two dry Beefeater martinis, up, with extra olives.
She regarded him balefully. “Your private dick tailed me into a bar?”
He shrugged. “Could be coincidence. Beefeater martinis happen to be my drink of choice.”
“No way.”
He grinned. “Way.”
Her lips twitched as she fought a smile. “You’re a jerk.”
“Ah, a step up from asshole.”
“They’re not mutually exclusive.”
Two frosted glasses appeared on the bar, tiny shards of ice shimmering in the gin, three gargantuan olives speared on oversized toothpicks.
Adam passed one to her without releasing her waist, lifted the other to clink against hers. “To fast cars and faster women.”
“To muscle cars and muscular men.”
Chuckling together, they sipped, eyes locked over the rims. Their steamy sidewalk clinch shimmered in the air.
Then Adam’s gaze flicked past her shoulder. His good humor dimmed. “Hawthorne spotted us. He’s coming our way.”
“I thought that was the point.”
“I suppose it is.” Adam released her and she took a small step back.
A reluctant step, she realized, missing the press of his hips. They’d been standing much too close, but damn it, she’d liked it. And who could blame her? Half the women in the room would dump their dates to bump against Adam.
As it was, he didn’t let her go far, just enough so she could turn and face what was coming. Then his hand settled lightly on her waist again, surprisingly comforting. As if they were united in more than just this one battle.
Hawthorne ignored Adam and focused on her.
“Ms. St. Clair.” Malice slid like grease under his polished delivery. “I must say I didn’t expect to see you like this.” He looked down his long nose, taking in Adam’s hand on her hip. “But since you’re whoring you
rself out, you may as well go all the way.”
Adam stiffened, but she set a hand on his arm. She didn’t need backup.
This was Pitbull country.
“Two words, Hawthorne. Punitive damages.” Her smile was needle sharp. “Juries love sticking it to greedy insurance companies sitting on their bailout money. So bring your checkbook.”
She half turned, then sneered over her shoulder. “While you’re at it, bring a real lawyer. I could blow Brandt out of court with one good fart.”
And flicking her fingers like the man was a gnat, she turned back to her martini.
For one speechless moment, Hawthorne stared red-faced at Adam, his pulse throbbing visibly above his starched white collar. Then off he strode, blustering clichés about hired guns, while Adam choked back a laugh.
“Priceless,” he murmured into her ear, “but next time warn me so I can get it on film.”
With her future in ruins and “whore” ringing in her ears, Maddie’s high spirits collapsed. Reality set in. “As your attorney,” she said stiffly, “I advise against that.”
“Tell me you wouldn’t love to see it on YouTube.”
A network news anchor hovered not four feet away. “I think this case will get plenty of screen time.” In her book, that was nothing to celebrate.
Edgy now, she pushed her martini away. “Any idea where the ladies’ room is?”
He pointed, and she gauged the time it would take to shimmy through the gazelles. “I might be a while. Where will I find you? Near the door, I hope.”
He laughed, and looked damn hot doing it.
Grrr. Weren’t things complicated enough? Did she have to lust after LeCroix like one of his idiot starlets?
Scowling, she plunged into the jungle. But she never made it to the ladies’ room.
Senator Michael Warren, former U.S. Attorney for the Eastern District of New York and her onetime boss, the very man who’d sold her out on United States v. LeCroix, intercepted her.
Taking a firm grip on her elbow, he maneuvered her into an alcove, put her back to the wall, and used his own broad one to close them in.
His square jaw was rigid with anger. “Maddie. What the fuck?”
“No, you what the fuck.” She drilled a finger into his chest. “Quit dragging me around like a caveman.” She was surrounded by them tonight. This one was blond and brown-eyed, but no less of an alpha.
He caught her finger in a chokehold. “Don’t turn this around. LeCroix’s a goddamn felon.”
“I know what he is.”
“Then why are you cuddling up to him?”
“I’m not cuddling,” she snapped out, but her face went hot. “I’m representing him, you idiot. I’m in private practice now, in case you forgot.”
She tried to wriggle her finger free but he turned his hand, laced their fingers together.
His stern expression softened. So did his voice. “I haven’t forgotten anything about you, Maddie. Not in five years. Not in fifty.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh please. We had sex once. And then you screwed me.”
“Don’t pretend that’s what happened to us. You wouldn’t have gotten involved with me anyway. That’s not your style. I’d have been lucky to sleep with you a few more times before you kissed me off.”
True, but she wouldn’t admit it. “Boo hoo. Now let go of my hand.”
He tightened his grip. “Does LeCroix know you’ll drop him next week? Next month if he’s lucky? That you’ll crush his heart like a grape and he’ll never be able to forget you?”
“Honestly, Michael.” What a drama queen. “Save it for the voters. And don’t waste any sympathy on LeCroix. Even if he had a heart, he wouldn’t hand it to me.”
“Believe me, sympathy’s the last thing I feel for that fucker. Jealousy, maybe, and outrage that he’s sucked you into his latest scam.”
“It’s not a scam,” she said, admitting aloud what she’d avoided admitting to herself. “I thought it was, at first. But somebody actually ripped him off and he’s pissed as hell. He’s got a squad of private dicks on it.”
“Don’t be naïve, Maddie. He’s putting on a show.” Michael leaned in to make his point. “With the Lady in Red, he didn’t care if you thought he was guilty. He just wanted you to believe you couldn’t convict him. This time he’s got more at stake.”
She wanted to dunce-slap him. “Seriously, Michael, you’ve lost your edge. He has less at stake now.” Her tone broke it down like he was a dummy. “I’m his lawyer. It doesn’t matter what I believe, I’m stuck with him unless he out-and-out tells me he’s committing a fraud, and even then all I can do is withdraw.”
He shook his head, hissed it out. “You don’t see it, do you? He wants to fuck you. It’s written all over him.”
“Pfft. That’s jealousy talking.” In a fresh surge of annoyance, she yanked her hand free. Her funny bone cracked the wall and pain sang up her arm. “Goddamn it! Get out of my way!”
She gave his chest a shove that didn’t budge him. He took her shoulders, gave her a shake. “Listen to me, Maddie. He stole the Lady in Red. Who knows what else he’s done? Who he’s hurt?”
“Stop right there, Michael. He stole the painting. But he didn’t hurt anyone doing it.”
“If he stole one, he stole others. We don’t know the collateral damage.”
She dug in her heels. “You’re being ridiculous. He’s not that bad.”
He stiffened away from her. “I can’t believe you’re defending him.”
“I’m sticking to the evidence. All we had on him was the Lady in Red, and I won’t impute murder and mayhem from that. And anyway, if he’s so evil, how do you justify kicking him loose?”
Michael’s nostrils flared. “I’ll tell you now what I told you then. I can do more good in the Senate than LeCroix can do harm out in the world. Or at least I thought so until tonight. Until I saw you hanging all over him—”
“Senator.” Adam’s big hand fell on Michael’s shoulder, gave it a not-so-friendly squeeze. “I see you’ve found my date.”
Michael held Maddie’s eyes, his own hot with resentment. His voice was a jagged blade. “Hands off, LeCroix. You’re assaulting a senator.”
Adam squeezed harder. “And you’re harassing a defenseless woman.”
Michael swung around to face him, dislodging Adam’s hand. “I’m talking some sense into her. Trying to protect her.”
“By backing her into a corner? Looming over her like a goon?” Adam’s quiet menace frosted the air. Michael’s temper flared white hot in response.
Maddie stepped between them. “That’s enough, boys, keep your dicks in your pants.” A quick glance at the crowd caught a dozen curious stares. “Now smile, both of you.”
Michael caught her elbow. “Maddie—”
“Smile, Michael, or I’ll knee you in the nuts and give everyone the scene they’re hoping for.”
Her level stare must have convinced him, because he pressed his lips shut, forced the corners to curl upward. He could have been gritting out a prostate exam, but it would do.
She turned to Adam. He gave her a level stare of his own, wildly blue, darkly furious. “I’ll smile when he unhands you.”
She shook Michael’s hand off her elbow, kept her gaze fixed on Adam’s.
Gradually, his jaw unlocked. One corner of his mouth twisted up. Without another glance at Michael, he took that same elbow.
“We’re leaving. Now.” And he strode for the door.
CHAPTER TEN
MADDIE WAITED TILL they hit the sidewalk before elbowing Adam’s ribs. He released her to clutch his side. “Damn it, what was that for?”
“For manhandling me, that’s what. And for going all barbarian in there. Unhand my woman. What’s that about?” She pointed a finger at him. “You called me defenseless.”
He looked amazed. “He’s got a hundred pounds on you. He shook you, for Christ’s sake. I should’ve laid him out for that alone.”
“Quit
it.” She advanced on him. “Just quit with all the hero shit. John Doe, and Bridget, and the starving children. Because I know you’re a crook.” She nodded once. “You’re a crook, not a hero.”
That made him smile for real. “They’re not mutually exclusive,” he echoed at her.
She seized on it. “So you admit it? You admit you stole the Lady in Red?”
The look he gave her was bland as toast. “It was simply an observation.”
She simmered silently while the same valet wheeled the Bugatti to the curb. Adam didn’t seem to care that he screeched to a stop. He peeled bills off his wad and handed them to the kid, but she blistered the boy with a glare that shrank him like a raisin. Then she hoofed it to the car to open her own door before Adam could beat her to it.
Defenseless. Not hardly.
Still, he managed to catch her elbow before her butt hit leather. She shook him off. “It’s an elbow, not a rudder. Quit using it to steer me around.”
He held his hands up, palms out. “I thought you might like to drive.”
“Oh. Well.” That was thoughtful. Too bad she couldn’t take him up on it. “Thanks, but I’ll ride.”
A voice boomed from the doorway. “Leaving already?” Dakota swaggered to the car, eyed Adam shrewdly. “Just when things were shaping up for a fight.”
“Maddie made me keep my dick in my pants.”
Dakota roared. “You’re a rare one, Miss Maddie. Most women are after him to take it out.”
She should have had a snappy comeback, but she was pitifully star-struck, blushing up at Dakota like a tween.
Adam stepped between them, said dryly to Dakota, “Going home empty-handed?”
Dakota spread his palms. “I shook off the babes when it looked like you might need a hand with the senator. Now I’ve got to start all over again.” He peeked around Adam at Maddie. “Got a sister? ’Cause if she looks like you, I might hang up my spurs.”
Adam strangled a snort, gave Dakota a half-serious shove, and strode around the car. Sliding behind the wheel, he said over his shoulder, “Consider your invitation revoked.” Then he gunned it and shot into traffic.
The Wedding Vow Page 10