by Betina Krahn
Carol pursed her mouth.
A company named “Mystic Touch.”
The hallway leading to the storage room was dark and quiet. The closer she got to the door, the more she felt drawn to the room—compelled to go inside. She punched in the access code and waited for the click, then pushed open the door, walked inside, and flipped on all the lights. Her pulse pounded, on alert for any falling equipment that might take her back to the beginning of this day. Today had been the best version so far, and she wouldn’t want to try to top it. Even if Luke had decided not to come to the party.
The door to the storage room clicked, then opened…and Luke stepped inside.
Carol felt her jaw loosen and wondered for a split second if her mind was playing tricks on her again.
“I thought I might find you here,” he said.
“I came in to look for an earring I lost last night,” she murmured.
“Last night seems…like a long time ago,” Luke ventured.
Carol could only nod. “You changed your mind about the party?”
He walked toward her. “Yes. I came back to make a fool out of myself.”
Her heart tripped harder against her breastbone. “What do you mean?”
“I know you’ve met someone,” he said, stepping closer. “But…why not me?”
Carol’s heart soared. She covered her mouth and tears began to stream down her cheeks.
Luke stood in front of her with an anguished expression on his face as he retrieved a handkerchief from his back pocket. “You have to interpret tears for me. Happy? Sad? Toothache?”
“Happy,” she said, laughing and dabbing at her tears. “The man I met, the one who’s put me in such a good mood?”
“Yeah,” he said warily.
“It’s you.”
“Me?” His eyebrows drew together and he got a faraway look in his eyes, as if he was trying hard to remember something elusive. “Me,” he said, nodding, then pulled his hand over his mouth. “Look, if I’ve seemed different lately, it’s because after that night here in the storage room where I almost kissed you, I started having these very…vivid fantasies and…feelings…”
Carol stepped close to him and lifted her arms to loop around his neck. “I think I know what you mean.”
Luke kissed her, moaning into her mouth until the vibration echoed through her body. He pulled her against him and their hands became frenzied, roaming over each other’s bodies. He smoothed his palms down her back, over her buttocks, and pulled her sex against the hardened ridge of his erection. The physical proof of what they were going to do…again…and again…and again…made her dizzy with lust.
“Let’s find your earring,” he whispered, “so we can get out of here.”
“Never mind,” she said, urging him toward the door.
“It must be important to you. Let’s do at least one quick pass. If we don’t see it, we’ll take off.”
Since he was determined, she relented. “I have the other earring so you’ll know what it looks like.”
When she pulled the mismatched one from her briefcase, Luke frowned slightly at her briefcase, as if it seemed familiar to him, then took the earring. As Carol followed Luke up and down the aisles, her nerves jangled. She just wanted to leave. Things were good the way they were…things were perfect, in fact. Why mess with it?
“Is that it?” Luke asked, pointing to the base of a shelving unit. “I think it is.” He crouched, down, but Carol couldn’t watch. She held her breath, waiting for a crashing noise. “Carol?”
She opened her eyes to see him dangling the earring in front of her. “Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, although it bodes well for me, too,” he offered. “Emeralds are the symbol of a successful love.”
Carol stared up at him, incredulous. “I’d heard that.” She palmed the earring. “Let’s go. Hurry. Before something…happens.”
But at the door, one thing made her turn back. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Luke frowned. “What?”
“The candy you bought me?”
He squinted at her. “How do you know about the candy?”
“I just do,” she said, crossing her arms.
“It’s not much,” he said, reaching high on a shelf to remove a heart-shaped box of chocolates. When he handed her the box, his cheeks were tinged pink. The red silk box read “I Love You.”
Surprise sparkled in her chest at the romantic gesture.
Luke scratched his head. “To be honest, I’m not quite sure why I bought that one. It just seemed…right. I feel like…I know you, Carol…more than I do…”
Apparently deciding actions spoke louder than words, he lowered his mouth toward hers. She lifted her mouth to accept his kiss, sighing through the overlapping of sensations that were both new and familiar. Far removed from their first kiss, her mind and body still reeled from the raw power in Luke’s probing tongue.
He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “Do you believe in déjà vu?”
“Oh, yes,” she whispered, then curled her hand around his neck and pulled his lips down on hers, hard.
Candace Havens
TAKE ME IF YOU DARE
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Prologue
JACKSON WAS ALIVE. At least that much he could determine from the excruciating pain in his ribs every time he tried to breathe. Testing his arms and legs. He was relieved when he could move them.
Well, there’s that.
As the fuzziness cleared from his brain, he remembered exactly when everything went to hell. The moment he walked into Vladimir’s office at Club Loi in Rayong he had known his cover was blown. The gun-runner greeted him without his smarmy smile, a sign that all was not well. Vlad hadn’t said a word, only motioned to his men.
Jackson fought, but he was one unarmed man against eight with assault weapons. Still he’d been able to take down three of them before someone had coldcocked him from the left with the butt of an XM8. That was the last thing he remembered.
His fingers found the large egg-shaped bump on his temple and he winced. Hope I at least threw a punch as I went down.
Forcing his eyes open, Jackson tried to survey the room. It took a minute to focus. Paint peeled off the ceiling and the room smelled of dirty socks. He wasn’t at the Ritz.
Moving slowly, he sat up on the edge of the bed. From the stiffness and bruising it seemed like every part of his body had been pummeled. Jackson pushed the pain aside. He forced himself to move. Stumbling to the dirty window, he opened it and was assailed by the smell of dead fish. Bits and pieces of a conversation between two fighting fishermen, and a flashing neon light announcing nude girls, told him all he needed to know.
“How the hell did I get to Bangkok?” The words came out in a harsh whisper. Turning toward the sink, he stared at himself in the mirror. His cheek was swollen, lip busted, but he’d looked worse. The bloodied clothes would be a problem. Rolling his neck to loosen the tension, he glanced around the room for something he could use.
He noticed a pile of folded clothes on a chair next to the door. That wasn’t what made him pause. It was the typewritten paper on top that captured his attention.
You’ve been compromised.
If I were you, I’d run.
“Hell.” Jackson shoved a hand through his hair. “A damn
burn notice.” He wasn’t dead yet, but he would be in a matter of hours. The Company didn’t like loose ends and that was exactly what he’d become.
1
MARISKA STONEGATE WAITED in the tropical paradise known as the Aqua Bar at the Four Seasons Hotel in Bangkok. The tranquil setting was in crazy contrast to the anticipation that zinged through her body.
Less than three hours ago she’d received a case file on a missing man. Desmond Gladstone, a husband and father of a toddler, had traveled to Bangkok on business three days ago. His wife hadn’t heard from him since the day after he landed. At the wife’s insistence, the hotel finally checked the room. Except for his bag of clothes and toiletries it was empty. The maid said no one had slept in the bed since the guest had checked in. That’s when the wife panicked.
The Thai police weren’t as helpful as Mrs. Gladstone would have liked. Since there was no sign of distress in his room, they believed he had wanted to disappear, or that he was having an affair. Mariska’s company, Stonegate Investigative Agency, had been hired by the man’s wife to find out what happened.
The case had not been a part of Mariska’s vacation plans. She’d landed in Bangkok earlier in the day ready to shop for a few days, and then she would head to Phuket Beach for a long vacation.
That’s what I get for turning on my phone.
Unfortunately, she had hit the on button, and now she had a case to solve before she could run away to the place of sun-kissed skin and mai tais.
It had been a tough year, and she craved time away from home, and the well-meaning friends who were constantly in her business. Her life wasn’t going according to plan, not that she really had one. But she was fairly certain she hadn’t spent all those years in school to work in a job where she felt like she was barely keeping her head above water.
She couldn’t even go on vacation without work interfering.
Closing her eyes, she pushed the negative thoughts from her brain.
This case is a minor bump on my road to fun.
At least the gang at SIA had hired a local private detective in Bangkok to get some of the legwork done before she arrived.
Mr. Thomas had discovered Gladstone cleared customs, checked into the hotel and then disappeared. That was a start at least. The one thing that bugged her about the mistress theory was if he was in the middle of a tryst—why not stay at the Four Seasons? Room service, six-hundred-thread-count sheets, it was hard to pass up.
A call to his workplace had revealed Mr. Gladstone was on a two-week vacation and they didn’t expect him back until the end of the month. Mr. G had lied to his wife.
In Mariska’s handbook that made him the winner of the Most Likely to be a Scumbag award.
Soft classical guitar music played and there was a hint of jasmine in the air. She’d never been in such a relaxing bar, and wished that her surroundings would help calm her anxiety about the case. Sipping her San Pellegrino and lime, she turned on her bar stool so she had a better view of the entry.
That’s when she saw Matt Damon in a beige linen suit perfectly tailored to his body. Mariska touched her chin to keep her jaw from dropping. He commanded the room as he stepped in.
Oh, my God. No way.
Unable to peel her eyes away, it took a second for her to see that it was apparently Matt’s doppelgänger. The eyes were a different color and this guy was taller, broader in the shoulders. And this guy had an air of danger. Not the scary serial killer kind, more a bad boy searching for his next heartbreak. The confidence of the man was nothing short of impressive.
Oh, baby, you can break my heart any day.
His almost perfect face had been marred with a pink scar on his lip. The small imperfection sent Mariska’s curious mind into hyperdrive. Had he been protecting someone? Was he one of those guys who worked in fight clubs for a living? Muay Thai fighters were a dime a dozen in Bangkok. More than anything she itched to run her thumb across the spot and kiss it. Her pelvis tightened and her breath caught on the thought of touching him.
Lust, much?
Turning his cerulean eyes toward her, he smiled. Holy crap. She gave a tiny gasp. He was panty-melting hot. It had been too long since she’d spent time with a man like him. Damn if she didn’t want to whisk him up to her hotel room right that minute. The idea of plastering herself against his frame made her squirm on the bar stool.
Can you say stalker? You’re here for business, Mar. Get a grip.
She chewed on her lip. Maybe if she could settle the case fast.
Before the solitude of the beach, I could get into some serious trouble with that guy.
She tore her eyes away and concentrated on her glass of sparkling water.
When he sat down beside her, she almost choked. Coughing, she turned to look at him.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he apologized. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
I’ve been waiting all my life. Mariska cocked her head as if she couldn’t believe it. “Mr. Thomas?”
He watched her briefly and then smiled. “Yes.” He stuck out his hand. “Were you expecting someone else?”
The warmth of him sent a thrill of anticipation through her as she put her hand in his. “No, sorry, I was distracted.” By your awesome hotness. “I’m Mariska Stonegate. Thank you for meeting me.”
“It’s no problem, and it’s lovely to meet you.” His eyes held hers as if he had nothing better to do than gaze at her.
After a long silence, she realized she’d been staring. Reluctantly taking her hand from his, she sat up a little straighter. “I’m sorry, you weren’t what I was expecting.”
Something flickered in his eyes. “What do you mean?”
Embarrassed she’d actually said the words out loud, she waved a hand as if to whisk the thoughts away. “It doesn’t matter. Have you found out any more information? I read your report about Mr. Gladstone not sleeping in his bed and that his luggage was still in his room. He’d called his wife earlier that day when he landed and told her he was fine, so I’m not sure what to think—”
The bartender walked up to ask what he wanted to drink. Mr. Thomas ordered the same thing as Mariska and his attention moved back to her. “You were saying?”
“That I had the information you’d e-mailed earlier. May I ask your opinion? What do you think happened to Mr. Gladstone? Has he run off with a mistress or do you suspect foul play. The police weren’t very forthcoming when I asked if there might have been other businessmen who have gone missing.”
Nodding, he leaned forward. “It happens in this country more often than anyone will admit. That’s why it’s always good to travel with a companion. It’s an amazing city, but strange things happen here all the time. People disappear, never to be found again.”
“Hmm. My mind was set on a different direction where Gladstone was concerned.” Mariska wasn’t sure how to broach the next question, but they were both professionals so she decided to lay it out there. “I’m wondering if—you know, a lonely businessman traveling to an exotic locale—if he…” She could feel her cheeks turn pink. She was far from a prude, but this subject was tough to talk about with a complete stranger.
“If perhaps he took in a bit of the local color? Visiting one of the many establishments where a man such as himself could possibly relieve some stress,” he said, picking up her train of thought.
She laughed at that. “I’m not sure I could have put it so delicately, but yes, that’s what I’m asking.”
He glanced over her shoulder. “I see my associate. Please excuse me. I’ll be right back.”
Mariska didn’t want to spy, but she couldn’t help watching as he prowled across the bar. There was something about the way his body moved like a big cat stalking prey. At the entryway he spoke with a white-haired Asian gentleman wearing a panama hat and holding a file folder. Mr. Thomas handed the man some bills, and the older gentleman gave him the folder.
The bartender delivered the drink and she paid for it. As Thomas approached her
again, he read through the file. Sitting down without glancing up from the paperwork.
That must be some interesting reading. “Your drink is here.” She pointed to the glass when he sat down.
“Thanks,” he said, without looking up from the file. “My associate brought me some news about our Mr. Gladstone.” He frowned as he glanced up at her. “It’s as I suspected. Mr. Gladstone asked the bellman to recommend a good place for a sauna and massage.”
“Is that such a bad thing? After an eighteen-hour flight it sounds like a great idea to me.” As soon as she said the words she regretted them. “Oh, a massage.”
“Exactly.” Mr. Thomas’s right eyebrow rose.
Embarrassed didn’t begin to describe how she felt. She really did need to pay better attention. The last thing she wanted was to make a fool of herself in front of this guy. “Sorry, I’m a little slow today. Couldn’t sleep on the plane. So, do we have a location?”
“The bellman gave him several options, but had no idea which one Mr. Gladstone chose.”
Mar pursed her lips. “Hmm. Well, I guess I’d better check them all. At least I have a lead now. I should get started.”
He looked at her as if she had jumped off the crazy train. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go off on your own.”
“Do you have a problem with that?” She’d run across her share of chauvinistic males. It happened a lot in the investigative business, but she was disappointed that Mr. Thomas didn’t think she could do the job. His hunk factor went down at least a third. She didn’t care how big his muscles were, or that her fingers had an urge to run through his hair.
He held up his hands in surrender. “No, not at all. I know for a fact women are as capable as men, many times more so. I also know your mostly female agency has a highly successful closed-case ratio.” At her surprised look he explained. “I do my homework, Ms. Stonegate. I had to make sure you were a legitimate organization before agreeing to help with your case.