“You noticed?” she teased.
He knew love existed. Just like he knew that if he jumped off a skyscraper, he would die. Thankfully, he didn’t need to personally endure either experience to accept the reality. “So you’re saying it doesn’t matter if what’s written in Lane’s book is the truth, as long as everyone believes it’s the truth.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll be damned. My sexy stalker spouts philosophy.”
She chuckled and kissed his cheek, her lips as soft as a rose petal. “I’m Toni Maxwell. Pleased to meet you, Grey.”
Toni probably had no idea that his twin had investigated her, that Zane had known her name before he’d set eyes on her or that he had no intention of telling her about Grey’s investigation. He wanted to see if she would lie to him. So far she hadn’t, although she’d most skillfully avoided answering his primary question. Why the hell was she stalking Grey?
He tried again, shifting from one foot to the other. “What do you want from me?”
“Your time.”
A flattering answer, but too vague to mean much. Earlier, she’d said she was here because of the book. But she didn’t necessarily believe what she’d read in the book. Confused, but fascinated, he found himself enjoying their banter and her company much more than he’d expected. And he couldn’t quite figure out why he was responding so strongly to her. He didn’t usually have such a surging swift urge to back a woman against a wall to ravage her mouth. He considered himself civilized and in control of such primal urges.
Yet, he wanted a taste of Toni Maxwell’s lips more than he’d wanted anyone’s in a very long time. He didn’t understand the powerful pull she had on him, but, as usual, he went with the flow, sensing they could have a very good time together.
But he had to kiss her. Soon.
Thankful for the tight jeans that kept his arousal tamed, he shifted to his other foot in search of a more comfortable position. Toni Maxwell was one mystery he would enjoy solving.
Testing her, wondering just what she wanted from him, he took her drink from her hand, allowing his fingers to slowly graze hers, before he lifted her glass and sipped, an intimate gesture between strangers. The pulse at her neck fluttered and her pupils dilated slightly, causing his breath to hitch.
He had to kiss her. Very soon.
“It’s good.” Her drink tasted of fruit punch and possessed only a touch of dark rum, as if she’d ordered the drink mild. But there was nothing mild about the daring look in her eyes, which inflamed his own senses. He took in the graceful arch of her neck, the bold curve of her breasts, the flat span of her waist, the flare of her hips and longed to trace his fingers along her flesh.
He had to kiss her. Now.
She leaned against him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Tilting back her head, she peered straight into his eyes, then tugged his head to hers. “If you wanted a taste of fruit punch, there’s a better way to—”
Finally, he kissed her, expecting the fierce passion of locking lips and the exploration of entwining tongues, but, again, she surprised him. She parted her lips only very slightly. Instead of an open invitation, she lured him with delicate nips and nibbles, keeping their kiss light and superficial before pulling back with a satisfied smile that left him thirsty for more.
She sipped her drink, offered him another swallow, then demanded, “Dance with me.”
She tugged him away from their partially private spot by the wall and deposited her almost empty cup on a table. Together, they entered deeper into the froth of bubbles and the anonymous dancing masses.
Zane realized that meeting her and talking to her had triggered the familiar passionate responses in his body. His heart rate was up, his flesh warmer than usual. Despite his long day, energy zinged through him. Sleep was the last thing on his mind—unless it was sleeping with Toni. But however familiar his physical response, the unfamiliar mystery surrounding this woman made him wary, but it also added a certain tangled excitement to the mix. The element of peril had triggered unusual reactions. He felt more alive, more awake, more interested than he’d been in a very long time.
Instinct also alerted him to danger. Not that she could be hiding a weapon under that skin-hugging red dress. He wasn’t worried that she might suddenly attack him, but rather that she had sneaked through his hardened defenses. He liked her. He liked her quick wit. He liked her intelligent femininity, so different from the mercenary women he usually met, women more interested in his pedigree or his bank account than his thoughts.
He sensed Toni wanted more and wouldn’t ever settle for less. He just couldn’t figure her angle. She was a businesswoman with a unique outlook on life that he couldn’t categorize. He still didn’t know why she was here, but right now he was almost pleased she hadn’t revealed her secret. Now, he had a reason to spend time with her, pursue her.
She danced provocatively, her hips moving to the beat, her upper torso undulating with a natural rhythm. And he sensed that, while she knew exactly how attractive he found her, she moved to please herself. As she spun around, her skirt flared, and he caught sight of her panties, the legs cut high enough to tease, the Brazilian bottom brief, snug, deliciously enticing in the way the fabric molded to very sleek, taut curves.
Her skin glistened with bubbles, drawing attention to the delicate arch of her neck, the soft curve of her shoulder, the shadowed cleft between her breasts. But her face, so full of fun, drew his eyes like a magnet. Her blond hair, damp from the bubbles, was slicked back to frame high cheekbones and glossy red lips. A no-apology gaze penetrated his defenses. No matter how he moved, no matter who jostled them, she focused on his eyes, her gaze hauntingly intimate. Mesmerizing. Tantalizing.
One moment her eyes looked blue, then green, then gray. In the swirling and flickering lights, he couldn’t tell their color. She presented one tempting challenge. There was so much more he wanted to know about Toni Maxwell. Like the taste of her tongue that she’d held back during their kiss. Like the feel of her curved bottom that he didn’t dare yet touch. Like the words she’d murmur when they made love. And he intended to make love to her. All of her.
He swallowed hard. The bubbles that clung to his clothes had popped, leaving his T-shirt and jeans damp, but the dampness couldn’t cool the heat rising inside him. As the tempo increased, they whirled faster, more frenetically, under the spinning neon globes.
He lost track of time. He forgot why he was here. Although the crowded room was full, it seemed as if there were only the two of them. Him. Her. And the bubbles flowing between them, keeping them connected, always connected. And when her hand brushed his hip, when her thigh grazed his, he knew making love to this woman would be pure magic.
He ached to sweep her upstairs to one of the semiprivate balconies, but he didn’t want to break the mood. This dance was like foreplay, and his anticipation rose. He reached to bring her closer and steal more than a fleeting kiss, but on feet that deftly spun away, she evaded him with a teasing gyration that took away his breath and left him aching, wanting more.
Through the rudimentary beat of the music, Toni had raised the stakes. Her dancing provoked an elemental and savage need in him, to grab her, to take her, to make her his, if only for a few short hours. Ten thousand years of civilization prevented him from acting on savage instincts.
It wasn’t easy to overcome his arousal until Zane remembered he was supposed to be Grey. Grey, who would have left hours ago. Grey, who wouldn’t have spent the evening dancing in bubbles with his stalker. This irresistible attraction to Toni was going to make continuing his own agenda a little tricky, but not impossible. If they stayed much longer, Zane might even blow his cover. It was time to leave, only little miss stalker was coming with him.
“LET’S GO OUTSIDE for some air,” Grey suggested, taking Toni’s arm and leading her through the hip-deep bubbles to the foyer where they both retrieved their footwear.
Maybe fresh air would clear her head. She hadn’t been prepared f
or the all-consuming attraction of Grey’s magnetic blue eyes or how much her fingers itched to thread their way into his curly hair and yank his head toward her for a kiss. Back in his office when she’d worn the gorilla suit, he hadn’t seemed the least bit interested in anything she’d had to offer. But tonight had been like lava spouting from a volcano, primitive, powerful, poetic.
She had to keep her priorities straight, though. This was supposed to be a sex scandal. A fling. And this was going to be a great fling, she could tell by the molten chemistry erupting between them. Toni adored being around beautiful materials, clothing and things. But being with such a beautiful man turned her on even more.
She had no idea where he’d originally intended for them to stop and rest their weary bodies, but when they stepped outside, photographers’ flashbulbs popped in their faces. Blinded by the glare, her knees unsteady after the dancing, her nerves rattled by the evening, she hung on to Grey for support.
Which automatically played right into her scheme. The outraged senator would read the publicity in the papers and break off his pursuit of her. So she welcomed the paparazzi’s taking pictures of the two of them together for her sake and for Grey’s, too. His reputation would soar. The press could no longer write stories about him sitting home alone, pining for his actress. So far, her plan couldn’t have worked better. Although she felt slight pricks of guilt for using Grey Masterson to achieve her goals, he could certainly look after himself. And this publicity could only enhance his stature as a man about town.
Besides, although she’d been willing to do so, she hadn’t had to fake her attraction to him. After all, what was not to like? Grey was charming, attentive and fun. He’d seemed amused that she’d stalked him—not the least bit angry or annoyed like he had that day when she’d shown up in the gorilla suit. A little time gone by had apparently allowed him to find the humor in the situation.
And now with the photographers’ flashing lights in his face, he slung one arm over her shoulder, protecting her from any reporters who ventured too close. She thought he might be annoyed by the attention, but he seemed more amused.
“Who’s your date, Mr. Masterson?”
Grey spoke firmly. “Give her a break, guys. Stand back, and I’ll answer a few questions.”
His grace surprised her until she remembered that he was accustomed to dealing with reporters.
“Have you recovered from your affair with Lane Morrow?”
Grey glanced down at Toni. “What do you think?”
A woman stuck a microphone into Grey’s face. “Are Lane Morrow’s statements in the book true?”
Grey grinned. “Next question?”
“Are you going to write a book?”
Grey started walking through the gauntlet of reporters. “I’m in the legitimate newspaper business. And we verify our facts before we print them.”
“So you’re not going to let the world know that Lane Morrow is really a Martian?” teased one of the reporters.
“No comment,” Grey said, avoiding the trick question and signalling for the valet to bring up his car.
Toni realized the danger. If Grey had answered by saying Lane Morrow wasn’t a Martian, the headline, Lane Morrow’s Ex-Lover Says She Isn’t A Martian, could have showed up in tomorrow’s paper. He’d wisely answered no comment, but that didn’t mean these people wouldn’t resort to putting words in his mouth. She only hoped one of them was smart enough to figure out her identity and print her name in the paper, preferably with her picture.
Grey’s large tip was enough incentive to have the valet pulling his silver Mercedes up to the curb in a matter of seconds. Amid more popping flashbulbs, Grey opened the passenger door for her, walked around the front and then slipped into the driver’s seat.
Toni had not agreed to go anywhere with him. But under the circumstances, discussing possibilities on the sidewalk was impossible. Toni had willingly gone along, knowing her sister Bobby wouldn’t be worried by her sudden departure. After all, she’d known the plan from the start, a plan that had succeeded beyond Toni’s wildest expectations.
One shared drink, several dances and stimulating conversation had set her scheme in motion. She settled into the cool leather seat, grateful that Grey hadn’t turned on the air conditioner or complained about their damp clothing pressed against his expensive seats. He’d been quiet since closing the door behind the reporters, not saying a word about where he was taking her.
But she didn’t worry much about their destination. A larger question loomed in her mind. She’d been working toward this moment since she’d seen Grey’s appointment book and acquired the invitation to Club Carnal’s grand reopening. Now that it was time to take the next step toward passion, she found herself out of practice and a bit hesitant of following through with the events she’d placed in motion. Sparks had sizzled between her and Grey, an unexpected bonus that had left her edgy and excited with her success. But now she had more decisions to make.
Just where did she want him to take her? And what exactly did she want to happen once they arrived?
4
ZANE HADN’T YET MADE ANY plans beyond escaping the paparazzi. He’d simply been grateful his jeans hadn’t been bulging as the photographers had snapped their pictures. While he still craved to take the luscious Toni Maxwell to the nearest private spot and conduct a mutual exploration fest, he had himself under some measure of control.
So when Grey’s car’s cell phone rang, he almost spoke normally and with barely a trace of the husky sexual overtone that hummed through him. Wondering who would be calling his brother at this time of night, he hit the answer button and spoke into the speaker. “Hello?”
“Mr. Masterson?”
“Yes?”
“This is Officer Fugate, New Orleans Police Department.” Zane’s first thought was for his brother. Had there been an accident? His heart tripped, and he gripped the padded wheel hard enough to feel the steel beneath, waiting for the police officer to finish speaking. “We have evidence of criminal activity at the Louisiana Daily Herald’s distribution center.”
The words soothed Zane’s nerves like an easing balm. His brother was fine, probably sleeping in Zane’s apartment.
But other employees of the firm were at work. “Officer, has anyone been hurt?”
“No, sir.”
“What kind of criminal activity are you talking about?” Zane asked, relief washing over him this time because there were no injuries.
Beside him, Toni seemed to be holding her breath—out of concern? From the moment he’d met her, she’d been so animated and alive, vivacious. But silent and still, she allowed him to see not just her true beauty, but to appreciate how she seemed to think before she acted. Toni Maxwell used her head. When another woman might be demanding answers, she’d had the sense to remain quiet while he questioned the policeman.
The officer spoke firmly. “I realize it’s late, but we’d appreciate it if you could come down and speak with us in person.”
“I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
After Zane disconnected the call, he took a moment to assess the situation. This time of the evening, far from Bourbon Street and the late-night jazz sessions in the French Quarter, the streets in the Art and Business Districts were empty. He drove past plazas, squares and parks sprinkled among the commercial high-rise buildings and elegant luxury hotels, thinking about his next move.
Next to him, Toni remained quiet, so quiet that he had absolutely no idea how the news had affected her. She might have been surprised or had simply remained silent to let him deal with the problem. Or she could be covering up satisfaction that the paper had taken another hit. If she hadn’t been distracting him this evening with her intelligent conversation and her alluring moves, he might have returned to the offices as Grey frequently did to catch up on paperwork. Had Toni been at Club Carnal tonight simply to keep track of Grey, so that her cohort could cause trouble at the office? Had their entire conversation and her interest
in him been feigned so he wouldn’t suspect her complicity? He believed himself a man experienced enough with women to tell the difference between genuine interest and the fabricated kind. She’d been interested. Her breath had hitched right before their kiss and her pupils had dilated—reactions hard to fake.
And while he wasn’t so far gone in his lust not to have noticed that she’d been just as turned on by their meeting as he’d been, he still couldn’t discount her as an accomplice. Maybe she got turned on by fooling him. And maybe he was fabricating farfetched plots where none existed. But, if so, then why had she been stalking him?
Zane figured that keeping her with him might be the best way to judge whether or not she had anything to do with the Herald’s problems. If she was involved, maybe she’d slip and reveal something she shouldn’t. He told himself that’s why he wanted to keep her with him.
Yet he couldn’t deny that the problem at the newspaper felt oddly personal, as if he himself had somehow been violated. Zane’s almost overpowering need to find Grey’s enemy and protect the paper surprised him. He had to fight the urge to step on the gas and speed toward the Herald’s office. For a moment he debated if he should call Grey, and finally decided to make that decision after he’d spoken with the police. Grey needed a break from the stress, and Zane should be able to handle a small crisis.
Even if the woman sitting next to him was at the core of the problems at the paper, Zane was determined to solve the mystery around her. While Toni obviously had a high intellect and a fabulous body, she seemed stable and down-to-earth. Yet, she was also full of contradictions that both intrigued and fascinated him. He reminded himself that normal women didn’t stalk men and then admit it. He reminded himself how often she’d evaded his questions. But what he remembered most was her tauntingly provocative kiss and the way her face had lit with amusement when she’d teasingly pulled back, even as her eyes had sparkled with silent promises.
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