The Perfect Ten Boxed Set

by Dianna Love

  “Earth to Alex.” Jaylene nudged me with her shoulder. “Speak to me, girlfriend. Tell me the plan.”

  I gulped a deep breath of ocean air. Noziaks did not let Grimples stop them from going in fighting, but I was more than a Mud Lake Noziak. I was a witch whose skills might be rusty, but I did have them—time to bring them to bear. I was an IR Agent and it was time to start thinking like one.

  I glanced at the crowded lounge. “Everyone involved is inside that room, so that’s where I need to be.”

  “Agreed.”

  Finally, something right.

  Jaylene adjusted her leather and silk bustier. “My guess is best target to push is the Ice Princess or the Gay Guy.”

  “You mean Dominique or Franco?” Dominique, no problem. But Franco? As much as I loathed the prick, there was still something rock solid about the guy.

  Jaylene mused aloud. “I so would not want to meet that woman in a dark alley. And as for pip-squeak in need of steroids, he watches everyone a little too carefully.”

  “But you just met both of them this afternoon.”

  Jaylene swept out all ten of her ringed fingers in an imperial gesture. “Girlfriend, you do not survive on the streets long if you don’t quickly size up the opposition.”

  Good point.

  Jaylene grinned. “Thing is, this is still your op.”

  “But I—”

  “You say the ‘f’ as in failed word and I’m out of here.” Jaylene didn’t even glance my way.

  I tugged my own dress, another Bran creation that hugged like mother love. “Time to go on the offensive,” I said, staring at the lounge. “Rattle cages. Do the unexpected.”

  “You go, girl.”

  A glimmer of a smile broke through; rattling Dominique sounded straight up my alley. Franco, too.

  “Don’t forget hunk man either,” Jaylene said. “Way I’m looking at the players, he’s the linchpin everything hangs on. Don’t know how or why, but you can’t take him out of the equation. Not yet.”

  My stomach knotted. Rattling Bran could backfire. Problem was, any rattling of him stood to shake me, too.

  Jaylene grinned, her teeth stark in the deepening evening light. “Got any ideas, girlfriend? ‘Cause if you don’t, step aside and let me have a go at him.”

  I bit back the immediate primordial and jungle-deep response. Jealousy was as foreign to me as catfights among women and backstabbing tattling. But I was learning; the last two weeks had been an education. Time to put my newly acquired knowledge to use.

  “Don’t worry,” I said to Jaylene, thinking of a dress Franco had shown me earlier. A no-holds, momma-keep-your-boys-at-home kind of dress, “I know exactly how to rattle his cage.”

  “Thought you might.”

  Armor for battle. Just thinking about it got my adrenaline pumping in a positive way. I was getting surprisingly good at this fancy dress thing. “No time like the present to get started.”

  “You go, girlfriend.”

  CHAPTER 45

  Two hours later, I spotted Vaughn standing near Jaylene at the bar that snaked along one side of the lounge. Playing by my new game plan I rumbaed closer to Bran and whispered a kiss across his jaw as I murmured, “Be right back.”

  The look he gave me raised the room’s temperature from too warm to steaming. My plan was working. Instead of denying what had been simmering between us since our first meeting I was using the chemistry to rattle his warlock cage.

  I hadn’t expected that seeing him all hot and bothered, knowing I was in total control, would give me such a rush of power. Oh, yeah, I could handle this just fine. No wonder women liked the dress-to-the-nines thing.

  “You look hot,” Vaughn laughed as I shimmied closer. The music was loud enough that the three of us could talk without being overheard, as I stood close to Jaylene and left Vaughn appearing to be just a stranger nearby. “Sexy, watch-out-Bran, scorching kind of hot.”

  I smiled, a real one and a first in days, catching a quick image of myself in the Venetian glass mirrors bracketing the bar. I felt sexy hot. Yards of chiffon caged in gold lame and edged in a slick of sequins. I looked like a cross between Queen Cleopatra and a smoky seductress. “New game plan. Operation Cage Rattling.”

  “Bran may never recover.”

  “That’s the plan.” I shifted the subject. “Speaking of plans, you should have seen Dominique’s look when I complimented her on her dress. Thought she was going to choke.”

  Vaughn glanced at Jaylene. “I’m not sure we’re going to get our old Alex back after this op.”

  “Not sure we want her back.” Jaylene raised her martini glass. “Here’s to the new Alex. Butt-kicking-in-a-dress kind of Alex.”

  My grin widened. Having the team—or some of them—in place was good. Kind of like knowing my big brothers were around to watch my back though better—less sweat and more eye makeup kind of better. Together I’d get the info I needed to find out who, or what, held Van. And once I did, nothing was going to stop me from freeing him.

  “Before you get too focused on your agenda, not that I’d blame you, Vaughn has good news for us.” Jaylene raised a pointed nail at our team leader. “Which you can share at any time.”

  “You know that phone number you found in the Maldives?” Vaughn asked.

  “The one on the second phone in Dragon Lady’s room?”

  “That’s the one. It’s a throwaway phone.”

  “Figured that—no registered owner.”

  “Right, but Kelly’s been able to get the Feds involved and get a triangulation on the signal. The phone’s been used only once here in Miami, but the connection was just long enough to pin down a general location, within a building nothing more.”

  My heart pounded faster. “And?”

  “The call came from within the hotel here. We couldn’t figure out which floor, but someone is definitely inside this place.”

  I was hoping for something more concrete. “That could mean the caller could either be a total stranger, unknown to us or on the tour. Why would someone call Dragon Lady on an untraceable phone if they saw her every day?”

  Vaughn shook her head. “Your guess is as good as ours.”

  “There’s more.” Jaylene raised her martini glass. “Mandy put a tag on Dominique’s phone after you asked for it, so while the good guys were getting the location of the second phone they also managed to pick up a secondary conversation from Dominique’s end that indicates she’s connected with the thefts.”

  “So she is involved!” I almost gave Jaylene a high-five right there at the bar.

  “Looks like your witchy instinct was spot on,” came her response.

  “I knew it. I so knew it. Anything worthwhile?”

  Vaughn and Jaylene grinned in unison, but Vaughn was the one who answered. “Whatever is happening is going to go down in Washington D.C.”

  “Our next stop on the tour?”

  “That’s right.” Vaughn’s face lit up like a lottery jackpot winner. “Last stop on the tour, day after tomorrow. It’s show time.”

  CHAPTER 46

  After speaking to Vaughn and Jaylene, I didn’t return directly to Bran on the dance floor. Too many thoughts whirling through my head. Van. Washington D.C. Bran. Always Bran. How was he going to take the news of Dominique’s involvement? How much did he already know? Was he using me or was there really something between us? Man to woman, not warlock to witch.

  I stepped outside the crowded, loud bar area to the dark night surrounding the bottom-lit pool, the water still and quiet, the underwater classical music pumped through the pool switched off. Bran had told me the name of the designer who created the vanishing-edge design where the chairs appeared to sit in the water and not around it. Just one more of our differences. Bran knew designers by name; I couldn’t give a rip. All I cared about right then was the fact the area was empty, the sounds of the bar music were muted here, like the thrum of a distant heartbeat.

  I had barely taken a deep breath
when Bran spoke from behind me, his voice as deep and intoxicating as the tropical air.

  “You disappeared?”

  Ever since the Maldives I’d been uber aware of him. How like him to ask about where I’d been, even if the patient-to-doctor tone meant we kept each other at arm’s length. “Just needed some air.”

  He slipped his hands over my shoulders, anchoring me in place, forcing me to be aware of their weight, their texture against my bare skin. Without words he pulled me back toward him until his body heat encircled mine, his hands slipping down to curl around my waist, his chin resting against my head.

  The first time since Bali he’d treated me as a woman and not an employee under his watch.

  So easy to simply forget here—surrounded by him. And why shouldn’t I? He wasn’t a thief even if he might be hiding one. Besides, I sensed him untwisting some, and I wasn’t about to snatch that away from him too soon. We’d both been in knots for too long.

  “I worry about you,” he whispered along my hair. “I don’t want you out of my sight.”

  Ditto, but for different reasons.

  I shifted, turning myself until I could gaze up at him, his face angled and stark in the shadows. His voice sounded harsh, wrenched from him.

  “Bran, I never meant what’s between us—”

  He laid a finger upon my lips. “Meant or not, there is an us. Wanted or not. Feeling held at arm’s length by you doesn’t sit well, even if you are a powerful witch and don’t need me.”

  So I wasn’t alone. He’d been as impacted as I had, willing to voice the words I tripped over even in my thoughts.

  Too bad though. Day after tomorrow I’d be walking away from him, leaving his world so alien to my own. I’d come to do a job, one that was nearing completion with the outcome still unclear. He would be hurt, a pain I would help inflict if what we’d discovered so far about Dominique turned out to be true. And I still had not discovered her connection to Van’s disappearance. Once I did, all gloves would be off.

  When had life become so complicated?

  “Bran, there’s no sense—”

  “Sense never had anything to do with us.” He paused, then added. “Acies acendo adamo.”

  That phrase again. What did it mean?

  But the time for thinking was past as he lowered his mouth, covering mine, silencing my protests. I expected heat from him. Fire and power and passion. And passion was there, but buried deep, layered beneath the care, the gentleness.

  His lips brushed against mine, coaxing rather than devouring. Asking instead of demanding. So non-warlock I was stunned.

  I stepped closer, wrapped within his arms, wrapped within him.

  This was no longer cage rattling but inevitability. Consequences could be weighed and measured tomorrow; tonight I simply wanted. I was an agent, but I was also a woman. I was a witch who knew better than to fall for a warlock. I was too far gone to weigh the consequences. Tonight I made my choice.

  I was the one who deepened the kiss. Opening my mouth to him, tasting and teasing him with my tongue, with my hands in his hair, with my body sliding along his. I didn’t care if he was warlock or demon; I just wanted him, all of him.

  His groan met my sigh. When he raised his head, I was steadied only by the force of his arms cradling me.

  “You’re sure?”

  I simply nodded.

  “Your room or mine.” His words were not a question, though choice still lay in the balance.

  “Doesn’t matter.” I cast my lot.

  His grin was the first true one I’d ever seen from him.

  He snagged my hand when a voice hailed us from the lounge.

  “Bran?”

  “Later, Dom.”

  “But I need—”

  “I said later.” He didn’t glance back, but I did. Rage tightened Dominique’s features, rage and fear.

  “You’re with me tonight,” Bran tugged me along, his voice raw with need. “Only with me.”

  “No problem,” I lied, but I’d deal with that later, too. Tonight there was only one agenda. The one between a man and a woman.

  We reached Bran’s room first. The penthouse, of course, the man did style well. His fingers shook as he key-coded his door, the awkwardness another first.

  It was good to know I wasn’t the only one with nerves.

  We slipped into darkness; a huge space, though I saw little as he ignored the lights.

  Fine by me.

  He scooped me into his arms as if I’d escape otherwise and stepped to the bed, releasing me only to slide along his length to the floor.

  “At last,” he whispered, using his hands to memorize my face, the sweep of my neck, the cup of my head.

  I let him explore, savoring his touch, his attention to detail, my responsiveness. My knees quaked, my blood pounded, my heart stuttered.

  His hands brushed the strap of my gown, a tremble in the motion.

  “Be careful of the dress,” I smiled against his shirt in the darkness. “It costs a fortune.”

  Instead of answering he clenched his fist in the silk and ripped.

  The dress shredded.

  He stilled my intake of breath with a kiss. Another kiss followed, a whisper along my cheek. “The dress was in my way.”

  “Obviously.” I swallowed more words, exposed to the coolness of air conditioning, to the hunger in his eyes. Lightness and gentleness were gone—replaced by raw need. I read his urgency in the tautness of his skin, the flare of his nostrils.

  My own breath hitched and held.

  “Come here.” He stood only inches away but asked for more. For me to make the first move. Toward him. To accept what he was asking. Even here there was still choice. Still a chance to hold back.

  Instead I smiled and closed the gap, my hands raised to wrap around him, the scrape of his clothes rough against my bare skin.

  “I’m here,” I whispered. There was no need for more.

  His hands curled around my neck, stroked the length of my spine, cupped the curve of my butt as his mouth claimed mine.

  Here was the fire, the heat, the controlled passion unleashed.

  I was caught in the vortex of a volcano. A warlock volcano.

  My hands clawed at his clothes, desperate to touch. He shucked shirt and pants in a rough, raw move, tumbling us both back on the bed at the same time.

  Time flattened. Bodies heated. Neither of us could get enough. Enough touch. Enough taste. Enough connection.

  “Please.” It was my whisper coaxing him.

  He raised above me, stark in the weak light cast from undraped windows. He paused only long enough for protection before he thrust. Hard. Fast. Deep.

  Yet I wanted more. I met him, thrust for thrust, skin slickened between us, breathing harsh, nails digging into flesh.

  More, I had to have more.

  I rose off the bed, taking him deeper, matching his want, slipping over the edge first, my cry echoing through the room, his joining mine.

  I closed my eyes and savored.

  CHAPTER 47

  We lay there, breaths slowing, arms and legs tangled, my hair washed across his damp skin. The thrum of Miami’s South Beach traffic pulsed beyond the windows far below. The chill of the air conditioning had me burrowing closer to his heat.

  He tugged the bed cover across my shoulders.

  “We could get under the sheets,” he said, his voice low and satiated.

  “Too much energy.” I kissed his chest, tickling my lips with his dark hair.

  “Yeah, got to save our strength.”I heard the smile in his voice. I raised my head just enough to see the curve of his lips. Those sinful, sweetly seductive lips. “You’ve got plans for something?”

  “Yeah.” He grinned. “Figure it’ll take at least three days.”

  That quick reality slammed into me. Time. A very limited quantity between us, though he didn’t know how limited. Washington D.C. was day after tomorrow.

  I already ached, aware of the only possible e
nding between us, just around the corner.

  I laid my head back against his chest.

  “I lost you,” he said the words as statement more than question. “Something I need to know about?”

  Not yet. I wanted a little more time before the outside world intruded and forced us apart.

  “Franco’s going to be pissed over that ruined dress.”My ploy worked. He laughed. A slow rumble in his chest until he curled his hands around my shoulders and tumbled me beneath him once again.

  “Then we’d better make sure you suck up to Franco’s boss.”

  I returned his grin. “Oh, sucking is now involved?”

  “Among other things.”

  My answer was lost in his kiss.

  CHAPTER 48

  “You look relaxed.” Jaylene raised arched brows at me late the next morning. “Must have been a mighty fine night.”

  “You’ve got a gutter mind.” I reached for the coffee carafe in the dining room, aware no others stood near.

  “Oh, yeah, baby, I do.” Jaylene’s speculative expression deepened. “And a very active imagination. “Was he as good as—”

  “Get a life.” I brushed past her.

  “Thought so.” Jaylene sipped her own coffee, leaving a bright red lipstick ring on the cup’s edge as she followed me to a window table. A quick glance reassured both of us no parabolic mikes could be used from any nearby building.

  But before we could talk, Franco joined us.

  “My, my, you two look cozy,” he fluttered, a little edgier than usual. Which said a lot.

  I ignored him and spoke to Jaylene. “You’ll get used to Frank here. He’s an acquired taste.”

  “Sort of like beets?” she asked with a shiver, eyeing Franco over the edge of her cup. “Never have gotten used to beets.”

  “All I’m saying.” Franco slipped into the chair beside me, jostling my arm and spilling coffee with his move. “Is you two seem to have become fast friends awfully quick. Very buddy buddy.”

  “We have very common interests,” I mumbled, wiping coffee from my jeans. “Like surviving nosy tour managers who butt in where they’re not wanted.”