by Lori Foster
The makeup and tousled hair lent a whole new air to her expression of sarcasm. “I’m nothing if not a fast learner.”
Bemused, Dare picked up a sandwich, took a bite and then offered her the rest. “Safe enough?”
“You guys are tricky, so I’ll pass.”
“For the love of…” Trace let that sentiment trail off. Seeing her so hot, so sexy, had done enough to destroy his calm. “Don’t push me, Priss.”
“Or you’ll do what? Dope me?”
Matt glanced up, then deliberately away, whistling softly to himself.
Trace took one hard step toward her—and his cell phone rang. Scowling, he retrieved it from his pocket, looked at the number and then at Matt. “Out.”
Matt grabbed two more sandwiches and his drink and headed to the family room. Chris caught Molly’s arm and urged her from her seat. “We’ll go with him.”
Rolling her eyes, Molly went along, but said to Dare, “I’ll expect an update.”
He just nodded. The dynamics of their relationship amazed Trace. Apparently Dare confided everything in his wife.
Must be nice to be that secure with a woman.
He eyed Priss, who stood still in front of him, in no way considering his possible need for privacy.
Trace answered the phone. “Miller.”
“How’s it going, Trace? Is Priss cooperating with the stylist?”
“It’s fine. And yeah, she is.” Truthfully, she’d done her best to bully Matt, but luckily he wasn’t a pushover.
“Got a report on the results? I have to admit, I feel like a kid on Christmas, waiting to unwrap a gift.”
Yeah, Trace knew just how Murray’s mind worked. “She looks good. You’ll be pleased.”
Jovial, Murray asked, “Is she there?”
Maybe he’d overestimated Murray’s level of trust. Not that Murray ever fully trusted anyone. He was forever trying to catch Trace in a lie, but Trace remained careful of what he said, and when, to avoid that particular scenario.
Lacking inflection, Trace said, “She is.”
“Great. Put her on. I want to talk to her.” No doubt to verify Priss’s whereabouts for himself.
Ice shot through Trace’s veins. Murray could have only one agenda in mind, to intimidate Priss, embarrass her or try to trip her up. An inner battle raged, but in the end, he said, “Here she is.”
He handed the phone to Priss without saying another word.
Her eyes widened. With the mascara and liner, the effect was exaggerated. “Who is it?” she mouthed.
“Murray wants to speak with you.”
Just that quick, Dare went to warn the others to silence. Trace put a finger to his mouth, alerting Priss before hitting the speaker button on the phone.
She chewed the gloss off her bottom lip, drew in a deep breath and took the phone. “Murray! Hello. How are you?”
Trace stood as close to her as he could.
Murray said, “Having fun, honey?”
“It’s amazing. I had no idea that a professional could make such a difference with my hair. I mean, I take good care of myself, but this is…well, it’s decadent. I don’t even look like me anymore.”
She gushed just as any neglected young lady might when introduced to the benefit of unlimited pampering.
Trace smiled at her, feeling unaccountably proud of how quickly she adapted to appease Murray.
“I look forward to seeing the results myself.”
“Of course, whenever is convenient for you. And Murray, thank you so much. It wasn’t necessary, I told you that and I meant it. But this is just…well, it’s the most fun I’ve ever had.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” A beat of silence, and then, “I understand you switched hotels?”
Shock rippled through Trace. How the hell had Murray known that already? Had the son-of-a-bitch planned to do her harm so soon?
Trace would have told Murray a story about her move as soon as he saw him, but he hadn’t thought to prepare Priss—
Unfazed, she put a hand on his chest to reassure him. “It was the oddest thing,” she said to Murray, sounding exactly like the naive young woman she claimed to be. “Trace felt certain that someone was watching us, and he didn’t think it was safe to stay where I was. He insisted that you would want me moved to a more secure place.”
Murray wasn’t expecting that quick reply. He paused, cleared his throat. “Trace is right, of course.” And then with suspicion: “You say he caught someone watching you?”
“I don’t know if he caught anyone exactly. He just said he felt someone was. He looked around, and then he said I should move. I was going to call you to tell you, but he promised me that he’d take care of that when he saw you again. I’m—I’m not sure, but I think maybe he didn’t want to give me your phone number.”
“Really? How silly of him.” But Murray didn’t offer up the number. He wanted no direct links to Priss, and everyone knew why. If —maybe when—she turned up hurt or even dead, there could be no trails leading back to him.
“I’m glad he relocated you, Priscilla.” Tone silky, he asked, “Where are you staying now?”
Priss looked at Trace, and he prayed she’d remember to give her old address, the one she’d first lied about to Murray. He’d left enough of her belongings there to fool Murray if anyone went by and checked to see if she was in residence.
Without missing a beat, Priss related her old location to Murray, but she went one better by not dwelling on it. Overtalking a lie never gave credence; just the opposite. Priss handled it like a veteran. She gave the location, and then went on to chat about her clothes, her makeup, her painted nails.
In no time, Murray cut off her rambling enthusiasm to ask for Trace again.
God love her, Priss had done an excellent job of both boring Murray and convincing him of her ruse.
Even Dare seemed surprised by her expertise. He and Dare shared a look; Priss was a natural-born liar.
Not exactly a sterling quality for a young lady.
Trace took the phone. “Was there something else, Murray?”
“Yeah.” He bit off the word. “You knew she was being watched?”
“Of course. But again, I didn’t know if it was you or someone else. You told me to ensure her safety, so that’s what I did.”
With a lethal edge to his tone, Murray asked, “Who else did you think it might be?”
“An old boyfriend, a friend—no idea, really. I know she claimed not to have any relatives, but how do we know for sure? You didn’t say anything about tailing her, but I knew she had eyes on her.”
“You didn’t tell her it was likely to be me?”
“No. When she asked me why anyone would be watching us, I told her that you were a powerful man and a lot of people were jealous of you.”
“Good cover.” His voice lowered. “It’s uncanny, Trace, this sixth sense you have.”
Trace said nothing to that. Truth was, he should have known Murray would immediately check on her story, but he hadn’t even thought of it, and it pissed him off.
He had to stop being so distracted by Priss.
“So tell me.” Slick anticipation sounded in Murray’s tone. “Have you had her yet?”
Trace closed his eyes, wishing like hell that he’d taken the phone off of the speaker function. Priss didn’t need to hear this, but it was too late to do anything about that now. He could feel her staring at him, not so much with accusation as with uncertainty and curiosity.
Dare said nothing, did nothing. Trace knew he didn’t want to embarrass Priss further.
Opening his eyes again, Trace locked his gaze with Priss’s. “No time to work on that yet.”
“You slacker, you.” Murray chuckled. “Helene told me that you’d be right on it. I think she expected you to rape the girl as soon as I gave the order. She’s been fuming around here all day.”
“Fuming?” God, Hell would be the death of him.
“That’s right,” Murr
ay said with interest. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was jealous.”
Priss gave him a look of pitying disgust and turned her head away.
“But you do know better.” Trace caught her elbow before she could move too far from him. “Because you know I’m not an idiot.”
“Yes. But lately, I’m not so sure with Hell.”
Christ, did that mean Murray would turn on his lover? Or worse, let her turn on someone else? Anything seemed possible.
“Anyway, I have other things to do now. Finish up with Priss as soon as you can. I don’t want you to be late tonight.”
“I’ll be there.”
“I’ll see you then.”
After Murray disconnected the call, rage made the impulse to throw the phone nearly impossible to ignore. Instead he shoved it back in his pocket and looked at Dare.
His friend, not being an idiot, either, joined the others in the family room. Trace stepped up to Priss. “You okay?”
She flipped her hair back. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
The way her hair tumbled drew his hands. He lifted one long lock, expecting it to be stiff with hair spray. But Matt was even better than he’d thought. Her hair was soft, silky, and it turned him on. “Murray put you on the spot. That could’ve rattled anyone.”
“I’m not as delicate as you seem to think I am.”
“Maybe not.” He cupped her face in both hands. “But you are soft and small and, at select times, very sweet.”
She made a rude sound. “Sweet, huh? You’re as deranged as Helene.”
“I want nothing to do with that bitch on wheels.”
With a humorless laugh, Priss said, “I don’t think you have a choice on that one. Just as Murray’s willing to sacrifice me to test you, he’s willing to sacrifice you to test her. Everything is about tests with him. And I get the feeling few people ever pass muster.”
She was right, of course. And astute. “When you live your life as Murray does, trust is a hard commodity to find.”
“What about the life you live?”
Unwilling to go into that with her, Trace shook his head. He could count on his fingers the number of people he trusted, and so far, she wasn’t one of them. “You think fast on your feet. That was a smooth story you told.”
She shrugged, but some sad truth sent her eyes downcast.
Had her life involved a lot of lies? From what he knew after her background check, she hadn’t attended public schools or held a job outside of the porn shop.
He had his suspicions of course, and most of them centered on the relationship her mother must have had with Murray. Eventually, Priss would tell him everything. And in the meantime, he’d left it up to Dare to do more digging.
“Will you be able to remember that twisted tale, to keep your story straight?”
Long lashes lifted and she stared up at him. “What do you think?”
He thought her ability for slick manipulation made her beyond suspect, and yet, at that moment, it didn’t matter.
Trace stepped closer, close enough that he felt the warmth of her small body and sensed her trembling anticipation. “I’m going to kiss you, Priss.”
Slowly, Priss nodded. “And you know what?” Her attention dropped to his mouth. “I’m going to let you.”
CHAPTER TEN
THE KISS LINGERED UNTIL Trace knew he had to end it or else find a room. If he did that, he’d be late getting back to Murray, because a quickie with Priss would never satisfy him. Sure, it’d take the edge off, but what he really wanted was to linger with her, to spend his time sating them both. Soon, he told himself.
When the timing was right.
Responsibility had never felt so heavy.
“You, Priscilla Patterson, are a mighty distraction.”
“I never was before.” She put her forehead to his sternum. “But I’m glad I am now. Truth is, I need the distraction as much as you apparently do.”
“Worried?” He smoothed her hair again. He couldn’t wait to feel it on his bare skin. They were moving at the speed of light, and the circumstances weren’t exactly conducive to seduction, but that didn’t seem to matter. The chemistry was there, taking over, driving them both, and he felt defenseless against it. Against her.
“Just wondering about something.” She levered back. “Murray doesn’t trace the calls?”
Leading her toward a bar stool, Trace shook his head. “I have a router on the phone. He can’t.”
“Ah. Clever.” She studied him. “So you and Dare run a high-tech operation, as I suspected. I can’t see you guys running to the local security warehouse and picking up run-of-the-mill routers. So is it the same type of device a government official might use?”
Avoiding the questions, Trace picked up the platter of sandwiches. “You need to eat.”
She couldn’t hide her disappointment. “I need to stop trusting you so much, at least until you start to reciprocate a little.”
“You’ve been trusting me?” He gave her a long look. “Could’ve fooled me.” Hell, it felt like she fought him at every opportunity.
Propping her chin on a fist, Priss sighed. “Like I said, it needs to be reciprocated. And until then, I’m not accepting any food or drinks from you or your cohorts.”
“They’re friends, not cohorts.”
“Even Dare? And what about this Jackson person?”
Trace was about to chide her for constantly trying to pry, but everyone filed back into the kitchen.
Matt said, “I need to go. I have other appointments today.” Without a single ounce of hesitation, he cupped Priss’s shoulders, drew her forward, and gave her a smacking kiss right on her slightly parted lips.
It was a toss-up who was more surprised, Priss or Trace. Priss blinked rapidly, Trace snarled and Chris laughed at them both.
“I enjoyed working with you, Priss. You were more than entertaining, and a font of information on all things kinky.”
Trace narrowed his eyes. Was Matt trying to rile him? All things kinky? Just what the hell had they discussed? “What does that mean, Matt?”
“She schooled us on the porn marketplace. Very informative.” After a meaningful glance at Trace, he turned back to Priss. “I hope to see you again.”
She went still, unsure what to say. Trace filled in the silence. “Did you want to bill me, or get paid now?”
“I almost hate to charge, it was all so fascinating.”
Trace growled. “But you will.”
Grinning, Matt said, “Yes.” As he turned away, he added, “I’ll get something in the mail to Dare. He can pass it along to you. I certainly trust you.”
Matt’s emphasis meant that Priss didn’t trust him—not that Trace needed a reminder of that.
Chris walked out with Matt, and Molly again tried to get Priss to eat.
“Why is everyone playing my nursemaid? It’s not like I’m emaciated or fainting from hunger.” She refused the food. “Thanks anyway, Molly, but I’m not going to starve.”
Annoyed, Trace stalked off.
Priss turned on her seat. “Where are you going?” And then with a touch of alarm, “Are you leaving without me?”
He stopped, flexed his hands a few times, and pivoted to pace right back to her. “I would not leave you here.”
“No?” She cleared her throat and asked hopefully, “Would you drug me again?”
His teeth ground together in frustration, but he didn’t lie. “If necessary.”
All reserve vanished and Priss threw up her hands. “Jerk!”
Trace touched her jaw, but she leaned away. “I’m going out to get Liger’s belongings. Soon as that’s done, we’ll leave.” He hesitated, left eye flinching, then bent to her mouth again. He kissed her before she even realized what he would do, but no way in hell did he want Matt’s kiss to remain fresh. “Together.”
For only a moment, Priss looked dazed, then she gave an embarrassed glance at Dare and Molly. After regaining her aplomb, she leaned her elbows
back on the bar and shrugged. “I’ll be right here, waiting for you. Not like I have much else to do.”
“Be good, Priss.”
She went hoity. “Meaning you don’t want me grilling anyone?”
“Exactly.” And before he wasted more time bantering with her, he exited the room. He’d be busy much of the night with Murray, but the next day…maybe the next day he’d have to advance things a bit. Until he got Priss out of his system, he knew he wouldn’t be one hundred percent. Yet to deal with Murray, he’d need all his wits, and then some.
PRISS WAVED AFTER TRACE’S fast-retreating back, then swiveled around to Molly. “Good riddance. Can you believe his nerve? The man slips a Mickey into my drink and then expects me to just act like it didn’t happen.”
“That would be my cue.” With a nod at the ladies, Dare went off after Trace.
Molly surprised Priss by chuckling. She lifted her cola in a toast. “You have Trace befuddled, I’ll say that. When I first met him, he was so cool and detached, it kind of freaked me out.”
Despite Trace’s succinct warning, Priss wasn’t one to miss an opportunity for info. “Yeah, when was that exactly?”
Molly didn’t take the bait. She sipped her cola before setting aside the can. “He’s warmed up some, but he takes his self-assigned responsibilities very seriously, which means he’s usually a real somber guy. It’s kind of nice to see him chasing his own tail for once.”
Trying for subtlety, Priss asked, “Self-assigned responsibilities?”
Molly laughed. “Did I tell you what actor was chosen to play my lead male protagonist in the movie?”
The change of topic threw Priss enough that she asked the appropriate questions and got engaged in Molly’s explanations, and before she knew it, Trace, Dare and Chris all returned.
As they strode into the kitchen, each of them tall, well built and strong, oozing capability in various degrees, Priss couldn’t help but admire them. “Studs galore.”
Molly choked on another laugh. “Yup.”
With the guys close enough to hear, she asked Molly, “Do they run in packs? Like wolves, I mean.”
Easily amused, Molly played along. “They must. Wait until you see Jackson. He fits right in.” She blew a kiss to her husband when he gave her a dark look. “A regular Romeo, that one.”