“I’ll just go then, if I’m intruding on your perfect little life,” she snapped. “Have fun with that meeting.”
Mina bent to retrieve her bag and presented me with a lovely view of her ass. I wanted to be inside her so badly it hurt.
She shoved items haphazardly into the handbag, muttering soft curses. The sharp, staccato rhythm of her anger was music to my ears. “Presumptuous, cocky bastard...”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” I shot back, relishing the flash of fury in her eyes when she glanced up at me. “Besides, you’re not going anywhere.”
“And you’re going to stop me how?” she countered. “I’m about a block away from my vehicle.”
“You’re staying until the cops arrive. They’re going to want a statement.”
“I’m not talking to the cops.”
“I know where you live, Mina. I can direct them to you. Either come inside with me and wait, or enjoy that little visit later.”
“Bastard,” she repeated. “Why can’t you just leave me be?”
An excellent question, and one I wished I had the answer to.
I offered her a hand. “You and your friend can come in with me or you can wait here. Your choice.”
Mina stared at my hand like it might sprout teeth and bite her. Finally, she slid her palm into mine. The soft glide of her skin made my cock strain toward her, imagining where else her silken skin could be touching mine if we were alone.
“Fine. Lead away, my big, strong hero,” she drawled. “This should be one interesting business meeting.”
Chapter Seven
Mina
“You probably ruined your chances of brokering that deal,” I noted as the skinny frame of Ian Mercer disappeared through the doorway of the private dining room. His footfalls were loud in the silent room.
Logan hadn’t spoken since dragging me inside Providence. We’d received numerous sidelong glances when he’d marched me past a nervous blonde hostess and a parade of waiters, toward the private room he’d booked.
It was a shame he hadn’t given me a chance to appreciate the decor. It had been a long time since I’d stepped foot in Providence. The last time I could recall eating here, it had been my eighteenth birthday and a farewell dinner before setting off for University of Southern California. I lifted Mercer’s abandoned glass and swigged the remainder of his Chardonnay to erase the sour taste the memory left in my mouth.
Logan shrugged. “You’re safe. That’s what matters.”
Guilt dropped into my stomach like a stone and I almost confessed then and there. Why the fuck did he have to choose now of all times to act like a boy scout? The earnestness of his statement made me ache.
I finished the glass of wine and shoved an abandoned piece of cod onto the end of a fork to distract myself. I hadn’t had much to eat in the past few days and now found myself starving.
“Did you want something? I have a steak here.”
He offered me the remainder of a slab of Wagyu swimming in sauce, the sight of which made my stomach rumble. I shook my head before my appetite could overrule sense. I was here to swindle the man, the least I could do was let him keep his steak.
“Or you could order something else,” he suggested. “And your friend could join us.”
Heather had conveniently gone to pieces the moment we stepped through the doors of Providence, commanding the attention of most of the flustered waitstaff and some of the customers. It had been enough to keep any cell phone cameras trained on her, instead of me.
“Heather is probably comfortable where she is.” Especially if the strapping sous chef was still paying her any attention. I suspected my best friend was having the time of her life downstairs, despite our recent brush with peril.
“If you insist,” Logan said, setting the plate down. He scowled down at the beef rather than at me.
“You should just say it,” I advised after a moment of profoundly uncomfortable silence. “You’re going to give yourself an ulcer if you hold it all in.”
“What are you doing here?” he finally burst out. “And why the hell didn’t you just run from him? You could have been seriously hurt.”
I could almost agree. Drake’s act had been convincing enough to make me a little afraid of him. But now, I’d probably be getting an invoice for his dental work. Even I hadn’t anticipated the brute strength of Logan’s attack.
“I was walking. A girl isn’t allowed to walk?”
“You and I both know that is absolute bullshit, Blakely. Try again. With a little honesty this time.”
Somehow he always managed to piss me off. It had been a masterstroke by my blackmailer to find the one billionaire stud I couldn’t stand to be around for more than a few minutes. The raging desire to jump into his bed notwithstanding, I couldn’t think of a person I was less suited to seducing.
But, I reminded myself, I had him right where I wanted him. The ploy had worked, and the studly fish was right where I wanted him. I just had to reel him in. Still, the charisma and confidence that radiated from his every pore made me feel like I was the one at a disadvantage.
I had to take a couple of bites of his steak before I could master the right tone. Meek surrender had never been an attribute I’d displayed in his presence, and he’d see through it in a New York minute if I tried to demur to his demands.
The tone came out more strained than I’d wanted. “I was going to see someone about a problem I’ve been having.”
“Who? And what problem?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I snapped without thinking.
His teeth ground audibly. “Fucking hell, Blakely. Can’t you just give me something?”
“It’s nothing you can help me with.”
“Let me be the judge of that.” He leaned so far toward me that he was in danger of wearing his Wagyu. The determination in the depths of his blue eyes had me quivering in all the wrong places. I was going to have to take a very cold shower when I returned home.
“Fine. I received death threats a few days ago. I’m going to see a private eye downtown. He was a friend of the family back in the day and I’m hoping he can help.”
Logan’s entire frame went rigid and his eyes blazed with new determination. “I’ll help you. I have more resources at my disposal.”
I snorted. “Yeah, your daddy would just love it if you mismanaged company funds to help your slutty ex-girlfriend.”
“I have my own trust, Blakely. I don’t have to lean on anyone for anything. I’ll help you if I damn well feel like it.”
I pushed away from the table. “Yeah, thanks for throwing that in my face. It’s your fault I don’t have a trust anymore. At least half of this is on you. If you hadn’t—”
Logan was on his feet as well, rounding the table to get into my face. We were nearly chest to chest, my heels boosting me to his eye-level, so I could see the scorching anger that blazed just behind his eyes.
“You think this is my fault? I’d say it’s more likely one of your clients after you. I hadn’t thought about you in fucking years, Blakely. I had nothing to do with this.”
He should have just punched me. It would have hurt less.
“Bastard,” I spat.
He reached toward me. “Mina—”
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I hissed.
He closed the distance between us, and I flinched away from his touch. Whoever was blackmailing me was a genius, figuring out how to maximize my misery like this. I hated Logan. I hated his stupid, handsome face. I hated the gentle swipe of his fingers and the murmured apology.
I hated that part of me that didn’t hate him at all.
The kiss was inevitable. I’d known from the moment he’d touched me where this would end up. His lips were a soft caress over mine, an apology all their own.
His hands slid over the silken material of my blouse, dexterous fingers reaching for the buttons, popping them open one by one.
His touch thawed the clammy feeling of dread that ha
d been clawing at my chest for days, and I didn’t try to fight it when his hand cupped one of my breasts, kneading the nipple to attention. I knew full well how tender his mouth could be.
Logan lifted me from the floor and slid my ass onto the table, disrupting the glasses, pushing aside the centerpiece and dishes. His arousal ground against my thigh, spurring me to new heights. Fuck me running, but I wanted him.
Heather’s voice drifted up the stairs through the slightly cracked open door, dousing my arousal as quickly as it had flamed.
I was such a hypocrite. Days ago, I’d lectured Bella Newman on the house rules. Don’t drink to excess, don’t make it personal, don’t have sex with a client. Now I’d come dangerously close to breaking every single one. What would I say to my girls, if any of them were to see this?
“I’m not doing this,” I hissed, shoving at Logan’s chest. But my pencil skirt was bunched around my thighs and the bastard had his hands already between them, and was mentally unable to stop the cursory slide of his fingers. Now he knew I wasn’t wearing underwear. And that I was embarrassingly wet.
“Let me help you,” he coaxed. His knee was wedged between my thighs, rubbing slow circles over my clit. It was sweet agony, a torture I’d happily submit to any day of the week. How long had it been since I’d had an orgasm with a partner?
Six years, I realized rather glumly. There’d been no one but my trusty vibrator to keep me company since Logan.
“You’ll do what, exactly? Send me with a phalanx of bodyguards? That won’t make me stand out at all. I still have a job to do, Logan, in case you’ve forgotten.”
He slid my ass forward, bunching the tablecloth beneath me, removing my skirt from its dangerous proximity to the steak. He assessed me clinically for a second.
I wasn’t an impressive sight. The barista had not fixed my lid on properly and I was half-wearing the mocha latte I’d bought before our little ruse. My clothes were ruined, my hair mussed from Logan’s sudden, passionate manhandling, and my composure was thoroughly shot.
“You’re right. That’s why I’m going to hire you.”
Chapter Eight
Logan
The words had escaped my mouth before I could stop them.
I’m going to hire you?
If I could have clocked myself for the stupidity dribbling out of my mouth, I would have. But they were out there, hanging in the air between us.
Mina’s face smoothed into an unreadable mask, hazel eyes flattening into an unfriendly stare. She shoved at my chest again, and this time I obliged her by stepping away.
But she wasn’t as unaffected as she’d like me to think. My suspicions had been confirmed. She wasn’t wearing underwear under that deliciously tight skirt. The slickness of her arousal coated my fingers, and I was very tempted to pop them into my mouth to taste, scandalizing or even arousing her. I restrained the impulse, barely.
I wanted to help her, and not just out of the skirt. She may have been my ex, but I couldn’t let something like this stand. And antagonizing her into stalking out wouldn’t help my endgame.
“I don’t appreciate the joke, Farraday,” she said coolly, buttoning the pearl buttons of her blouse all the way up to her neck. The generous spill of cleavage I’d been privy to disappeared from sight, and the loss physically hurt.
She slid into the chair opposite mine, crossing her legs to obscure what lay just beneath her somewhat rumpled skirt. Probably a good thing too. Only so much could be demanded from my self-control. If it were my choice, I’d spread her out on the table and sample a delicacy I hadn’t had in a long time. Something told me she’d be pissed after the orgasm was through.
“It’s not a joke.” I leaned forward, extending an imploring hand toward her. “It’s actually a perfect solution. You help me with my problem, and I’ll help you with yours.”
Mina glanced pointedly down at my dick, which was straining at the zipper of my pants. “Sorry, I’ll pass.”
“Real mature, Blakely. That’s not what I meant.”
“What do you mean, Farraday? You’ve got two minutes to explain yourself before I bounce.”
She began to hum the Jeopardy theme song simply to piss me off. Sad to say, it worked.
“Could you stop that?”
“One hundred and eighteen seconds...one hundred and seventeen...”
I scrubbed my face with both hands. Mina’s attitude hadn’t changed nearly as much as the rest of her. “I think we can help each other. I have a business meeting to attend in Morocco tomorrow evening. I was going to fly out tonight. I have just been told that I’m required to take a plus one. My father would like me to take the daughter of an associate. I’d rather take you.”
Mina finally paused in her game-show-theme recitation and considered what I’d said. “And why would you do that?”
Because the alternative was being trapped on a superyacht for the weekend with a woman who’d completely misconstrue my intentions. At least with Mina on board, I wouldn’t have to anticipate unwelcome come-ons. Unwelcome knives, perhaps, but that I felt more comfortable with.
“I can protect you better than any private eye, Mina. You know I can. Let me try to help you.”
Mina’s jaw flexed stubbornly, but I waited her out, preparing my argument. The gears spun wildly behind her eyes, weighing the pros and cons of my offer.
“And what about after that?” she finally asked. “What happens once we’re back here?”
“We’ll figure it out,” I said with a shrug. “I have contacts in the personal protection industry. I could find you someone discreet that doesn’t stand out at your...”
Mina let out a small kitten-like approximation of a growl. “If you call me a hooker one more time—”
I held up a hand in a pacifying gesture. “I’m not. All I’m saying is that I will make sure you’re safe. Wouldn’t you feel safer with me at your back, instead of some second-rate PI?”
“Not really,” she muttered. “At least I’d know he wasn’t trying to fuck me.”
“Trust me, if he was heterosexual, he’d at least be thinking about it.”
Mina rolled her eyes. “Not all men are as single-minded as you.”
I didn’t try to belabor the point. We’d fight again and I’d lose any progress I’d made. “Fine, fine. We’ll play it your way. All the men you’ve been seeing are the paragons of virtue and I am a chauvinist pig. Are you happy?”
“Getting there.” A small smirk curled the edges of her full, tempting mouth. Her lips were kiss-swollen, her lipstick smeared ever so slightly at the corners. It was selfish of me, but I wasn’t going to alert her to the imperfections. I wanted every man who watched her walk out to know that she was mine, no matter how small the claim was. “Add in spiteful, petty son of a bitch and you’re a lot closer to the mark.”
I must have been fucking crazy, but I was actually looking forward to the trip ahead. “What do you say? Are you coming tonight?”
Mina tapped her chin thoughtfully with one manicured nail for a minute before nodding. “There will be the matter of the fee. And the character you want me to play.”
“Fee?” I asked, incredulous.
“Yes, a fee. If you’re my client, nothing untoward can happen. We don’t sleep with clients. Hustler house rules. I’ll also want you to sign an NDA and fax over my character information to the office. I assume you don’t want me there as myself?”
I didn’t want her to disappear behind a mask again, no matter how necessary the disguise.
“I’ll send you a name and a character profile, but you won’t have to change much physically. No one in Morocco has ever met the woman I’ll have you posing as. They won’t know the difference.”
“It seems like a bad idea. This,” she jabbed a finger at her head with a scowl, “is pretty damned distinctive. If any of the men there have met my mother, they’re going to make the connection.”
“If you’re concerned, why stroll down Melrose without a disguise?”
<
br /> Mina rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t aware that a trip to the Java Jamboree required high espionage. Silly me.”
Her quip reminded me of a small but pressing curiosity that had weighed on me before the assault. “That woman downstairs, is she one of your girls?”
Mina shifted in her seat and stared down at the plate. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, Farraday.”
So that was a yes. In other circumstances, I might have had someone look into the associate, just so I had a better idea of the sort of company Mina was keeping. If the threat wasn’t a client of hers, the next most likely culprit was an insider. But I was treading on thin fucking ice as it was, and I wasn’t going to press my luck any further today.
“Give me your number and the fax and I’ll send over the details shortly.”
Mina’s full lips twitched up into the barest hint of a smile, enjoying some joke that I wasn’t privy to. She snatched up one of the napkins and spread it flat on the table, holding out a hand to me. Wordlessly, I placed one of the company pens I always carried into her palm.
Heather’s voice drifted in again. “Mina, the police are here.”
“I’ll make the police report vague so you won’t have to be jailed, if you’ll let me walk to the officers alone.” She gave me a grin. After scrawling two numbers and bank information onto the napkin, she folded it into quarters and offered it to me.
I quirked up one eyebrow. “Be my guest.”
“Heather will fax the NDA as soon as you’ve wired the amount specified. Then you can send character information and any special requests.”
“Special requests?” I handed her my business card.
“Anything that would take extensive prep work or professional training, we request at least a six-month waiting period. For example, I once had a client that had me pose as a gymnast...”
My breath hissed out from between my teeth. Great. Not only had she become trimmer, but she was probably also ridiculously flexible. That little tidbit wouldn’t be haunting my dreams tonight.
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