by Tawny Weber
She didn’t like being led, any more than she liked being played. And while she wasn’t sure what his game was right now, she had not a single doubt that she was a pawn in it.
Marni wasn’t against playing games, but she never played unless she had a firm handle on the rules. Or if the stakes were so high, she couldn’t resist the odds.
“We’re supposed to go in for dinner soon.” Marni wasn’t interested in food. But she figured it’d be better to stay in the crowd. Smarter would be to let Hunter leave alone. To put a little space between them until she got a grip on the crazy desires that were rushing through her body like hormones run amok.
“I’m not hungry.” His words were flat. Matter-of-fact. But the look in his eyes, hot sensuality, said he had a voracious appetite for something other than food. Something like her, if his heated stare was anything to go by.
“We arrive in Chicago just after they serve dessert.”
“Then we should have an hour to settle things, shouldn’t we.”
“What things?”
He just stared. A patient, calm look that said he knew she was smart enough to figure it out and had no problem waiting until she was brave enough to own up to it, too.
Marni gulped.
She was used to being dismissed.
To being considered fluff. Light and sweet. Her own family ignored half of what she said, all sure they knew her better than she knew herself.
And here was this man, looking at her as if he knew the real her. The her inside. The one that was strong and brave, with enough ambition to reach the stars. The one who knew her own mind, and had the gritty determination necessary to make all of her dreams into a solid reality.
He didn’t say another word.
Just turned and walked toward the exit.
As if attached by a string, Marni was helpless to do anything but follow. She silently walked at his side as they made their way through the crowd, both ignoring the attempts here and there to engage their attention.
Shoulder to shoulder, they made their way down the narrow corridor to their berth.
“I’m pretty sure our roles are boss and secretary,” she pointed out randomly as he shoved open the cabin door.
“Check the stats. I’ll bet a lot of bosses and secretaries sideline as lovers.”
“We don’t.”
“Sure we do,” he said, dropping into the chair and giving her a smug look. “Especially if it keeps creeps like that off of you. Go ahead, you can thank me.”
She gaped.
“Thank you?”
“Yes, thank me. If I hadn’t gotten rid of him, you’d be shoving his lechy hand off your shoulder right now, sidestepping yet another of his tacky attempts to look down your dress and wishing like hell you were here with me, debating how long paint would take to dry if a train left New York traveling forty miles per hour, and the paintbrush left California traveling eighty miles per hour. Because, you know it’d be a lot more interesting than what Creepy had to say.”
Marni hated that he had a sense of humor.
Gorgeous and sexy were bad enough.
But gorgeous, sexy and fun?
She was doomed.
“How do you know I wasn’t interested in that creep—I mean, that gentleman,” she corrected quickly, biting the inside of her lip to keep from laughing.
“Because you have better taste than that. You’re not the kind of woman to be taken in by smarm.”
It was as if he was wearing magic glasses.
As if she’d lived in a blind world all her life, and he was the first sighted person she’d ever met. It was so cool. And just a little scary. Because her tricks, her usual ways of getting around people and situations, they weren’t going to work if he could see right inside her.
And getting around him, hiding her real intentions and keeping him off center were vital if she was going to accomplish the only reason she was on this train. To get that article.
Not, she scolded her body, to get laid.
Before her body could offer a rebuttal, Hunter looked at his watch, then got to his feet.
Her heart raced. Was he going to show her what he did think she’d be taken in by? He crossed the room, but not toward her. Instead, he headed for the door.
“I’ve got to meet someone at the station,” he said, his hand on the doorknob. He gave her a long look over his shoulder before pulling it open. “You have a couple hours. You might want to use them to figure out how you’re going to handle tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah. Tonight. You need to decide if you’re going to be camped out above me on that uncomfortable bunk. Or if you’re going to rethink that no you gave this morning.”
With that, and a look hot enough to remind her of every delight she’d felt in his arms that morning and to hint at how many more they had to offer, he left.
Marni stared at the closed door for a long time.
They’d been on the train less than a day. They had six more to go.
Maybe she should reconsider this case.
She’d always figured she’d risk anything for a big career break.
Her body, and the delights Hunter promised, wasn’t a bad price to pay.
But her heart?
That was more than she was willing to invest.
7
MARNI BLINKED, TRYING to bring the room back into focus. Her eyes were blurry, her head ached and her body...oh, her poor body.
Lack of sleep bad enough.
But lack of sleep for three days added to an ongoing state of unfulfilled sexual arousal? That was straight-up abuse.
“Another espresso, Miss Mystery?” the waiter asked with a friendly smile.
Marni hesitated.
It wasn’t that she had an issue with six espressos before noon. It was the worry that the lack of caffeine boost, combined with almost painful jitters, would be worse than falling asleep at the table.
“Maybe a cup of hot tea instead,” she decided. “Earl Grey with a side of lemon wedges, please.”
If nothing else, she could suck the lemons.
Maybe the citrus would add a little extra zing to her article.
Marni checked her email, excited to see a note from her editor. He was looking forward to seeing the article and, thankfully, had agreed to cover the expenses of her trip. Marni gave her laptop an affectionate look, all but patting its casing in pride.
Over the past three days, while banished from her cabin, she’d written a damned good article. She’d done in-depth research, not only on Charles Burns, but on the FBI, as well. She’d pulled together an incredible amount of facts, figures and information on Burns, his history, his organization, his marriages, right on down to his addiction to cherry licorice. What she didn’t have, though, were the insights that would take this from an exposé to a hard-hitting piece of journalism. It might be a good follow-up for after the trial, buried somewhere in the middle of the magazine. But it still wouldn’t net her the cover.
Frustratingly, neither would the pitifully small bit of information she’d been able to cull together on the man who’d arrested Burns in the first place. Because Hunter was still an active-duty FBI agent, there was almost no information to be found—including his darned first name, which had driven her crazy for an entire day. Then she’d shifted focus, spending almost as much time studying Hunter Sr. as she’d spent pulling together information on Charles Burns.
The man was amazing. The more she found out, the more she wanted—no, needed—to know.
She pulled up that document, noting that the word count was quickly heading toward a novel instead of an article. The man was fascinating, both in his adventures with the FBI and in the connections he had outside it. What must it be like to have a father who stood godfather to the child of a notorious con artist? Who’d headed up the FBI, had dinner with presidents and vacationed with foreign leaders? Rick Hunter’s story enthralled her.
It’d been through studying his father that she’d garn
ered the most information on Hunter. She’d talked to people who were happy to share stories about the senior Mr. Hunter, and she had charmed out of them bits and pieces about Hunter’s own talent for looking past the obvious and his habit of solving cases through unconventional methods.
“Your tea.”
She mumbled a thanks to the waiter as she made more notes on her laptop. This profile of Rick Hunter was probably the best work she’d ever done.
“Well, you’re bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning. And with a fake murderer on the loose.” Sugar Dish, as the brunette had introduced herself three nights past, sidled into the chair opposite Marni with a big smile. Ever since the mystery murder had occurred, everyone had been sleuthing their hearts out. “I don’t know how you do it. Must be rough, those all-nighters with your boss.”
Marni sighed, and realizing she wasn’t going to get any more writing done, shut her laptop cover and gave Sugar, or Carla as she was known outside the train, an impatient look.
“Again with the all-nighters jokes?” She sipped her tea while Sugar ordered a cup of coffee. “You know we’re not really a thing.”
“And you know I think that’s a horrible shame.” The brunette grinned and fanned herself. “Because your handsome roommate is worth losing sleep over.”
Wasn’t that the truth?
Most guys, after a couple of days of constant exposure, lost that initial oh-my-God-gorgeous appeal.
Hunter, though, just kept getting hotter. He was hot in the morning, with his blurry-eyed mumbles and stubbled chin. He was cute in the afternoon, during the one hour he’d designated that she was allowed in the room—as long as she brought a snack. He was freaking sexy as hell in the evening, when he wound down and relaxed, losing a little of that intense edge that always seemed to drive him the rest of the time. He was fascinating and so damned cute, the way he’d share stories about him and his father, the hero worship he’d mentioned once coming through loud and clear.
Was it any wonder she wasn’t getting sleep?
Or that each passing night made her think there were much better ways to spend those endless waking minutes instead of staring into the dark, resisting her body’s urges.
The other woman thanked the server, waiting for him to pour her coffee and leave the creamer. While doctoring her caffeine with that and enough sugar to give a diabetic a coma, she studied Marni’s face.
“Of course, it looks like you’re doing just fine on that lack of sleep already. Wouldn’t it be better if you were having great sex to go with it?”
Marni snickered into her teacup. She’d been prepared to straight up dislike the other woman. Especially after she’d hit so hard on Hunter that first night. Jealousy wasn’t a pretty thing, but it was powerful.
“We’re not a couple,” she said, trotting out her usual excuse. “We’re strangers who happen to be sharing a berth. Just like this train would have seen in its heyday.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sugar waved that away. “But you’re a smart woman. You’ve got brains and looks, and enough savvy to know that the only reason the two of you are both lying awake all night in separate beds is because you are choosing to.”
Something Hunter reminded her of each night.
Not in words.
But in the look in his eyes, the husky tone of his voice as he said good-night. He didn’t tease, or play games like some guys would, like insisting he always slept naked and stripping down in front of her. Instead, he respected her no, kept his boxers on and tortured her with the wonder of what was underneath.
She was going crazy.
Just thinking about it got her hot, made her want to wiggle in her seat.
“I’m not a fling kind of gal,” Marni demurred truthfully. She could be. She would be, if it wasn’t for this article. She wanted to be, given how intensely her body reacted when Hunter was in the room. How her nipples beaded at the sound of his voice. How the few times they’d casually touched, her thighs melted.
She took a deep breath, reminding herself that, as always, career came first. It had to.
And she couldn’t, in good conscience, use a guy for a story while riding his body to new heights of orgasmic pleasure.
“I’m hearing a lot of are nots out of you,” Sugar said with a tilt of her head. “What about the ares? What are you?”
Horny.
Obsessed.
Quickly sliding toward infatuated.
What she was must have shown on her face, because Sugar reached over and gave Marni’s hand a sympathetic pat.
“Sweetie, if you want something, you know perfectly well how to make it happen.” With that, and a wink that was as natural as it was in character, coffee cup in hand, the brunette rose, tossed her hair over her shoulder and scanned the room. “Now, I’m off to find out who is allergic to red roses, but loves hot bubble baths before bed. Three days down, three left to find the killer.”
She arched a look at Marni, who, figuring one good turn deserved another, angled her head to the three crimson roses in the bud vase in front of her.
“Oh, good point.” Scanning the room to see who had ditched their centerpiece, Sugar gave a little finger wave and was on her sleuthing way.
Marni gave the departing woman a grumpy glare.
She had no problem figuring out how to get what she wanted.
The problem she had was figuring out how to not take what she shouldn’t want.
It was exhaustion. That had to be the problem. If she’d had sleep, she wouldn’t be having these crazy ideas. Or, at least without the cloud of fatigue, she’d be mentally strong enough to shove them back in a dark corner of her mind where she could more easily ignore them.
That was it. She’d spent yesterday afternoon in the library car, dozing next to a corner bookcase. She’d awoken to the hissing whispers of six people, three of whom were sure Hunter was the murderer, and the other three just as sure he’d been murdered himself in a surprise twist they hadn’t heard yet.
When they’d seen Marni was awake, they’d all plastered on their most innocent smiles and pumped her for information on her boss, Lex Lanternjaw.
“He can eat lunch out here,” she decided in a grumpy mutter. Scooping her laptop into her messenger bag with a scowl, she left the dining car and stormed toward her cabin. Hunter was making her job harder, her fake job and her real one, by hiding out in their berth. He could get his tush out in public so people quit trying to pump her for information.
And while he did, she could take a nap.
A glorious, deep-sleep, cozied-under-the-covers nap.
It was all she could do not to melt into a puddle right there in the corridor.
With a big smile, her arguments all neatly lined up, she flung open the cabin door.
There, in the desk chair exactly where she’d expected to find him, was Hunter.
Sleeping.
She almost slammed the door shut, just to watch him jump.
Then she noticed the exhaustion on his face.
Looked as though the two of them had his-and-hers matching circles under their eyes.
She sighed, her entire body sagging under the weight of her shoulders. She was so tired, she felt as if her head was floating a foot over her body. She needed sleep.
Marni shut the door with a quiet snick, then laid her laptop on the small table next to it. Sliding off her shoes, she eyed the button that would release the bunk from hell.
If she pushed the button, it’d wake Hunter.
Then they’d have to have the argument over him leaving and her napping. And she was just too tired to argue.
Besides, three nights she’d lain on that bunk. For a piece of mattress-covered plywood, it wasn’t too uncomfortable. If she hadn’t been constantly struggling against the desperate need to climb down and jump the man beneath her, she might have actually slept okay.
But it wasn’t as comfy as the bed. The bed was glorious. The bed was wide. The bed was sleepy-time heaven.
She was napp
ing in the bed.
She stopped at Hunter’s side, glancing at the work spread out around him. The laptop showed a lock screen. The papers sitting next to the multilock briefcase looked like they were in code. Even his notes were some form of weird shorthand she couldn’t decipher. All she could make out were the initials B.B. here and there.
Snoop?
Or sleep?
No contest.
Silent as a mouse, Marni carefully, oh-so-slowly, pulled the duvet back. Her watchful gaze never left Hunter’s face as she slipped under the plush cotton and slowly, as if the sound of the feathers compressing might wake him, lay her head on the pillow.
Oh, mercy.
It felt so good, she almost cried.
Breathing deep, she inhaled the rich scent of Hunter’s cologne that permeated the bedding. It was like being wrapped in his arms. Hugged close.
Slowly, so slow she wasn’t even sure when it happened, her eyes drifted closed. Her brain drifted into that glorious cloud that was a deep, dreamless sleep. Her last thought was how wonderful it felt, as if she was actually in bed with Hunter.
* * *
MARNI WAS FLOATING. Somewhere, high above the level that consciousness could currently reach—higher than she had any interest in checking out—something nagged. Like a thorn in her shoe, it poked at her, trying to get her attention.
She snuggled deeper into the pillow, easily ignoring everything except how wonderful she felt.
Wow. Sleep was awesome.
Warm, delicious and awesome.
And a total turn-on.
Not an unusual state for her these days. It was as if being around Hunter had flipped her desire meter from average to super-high, keeping her in a constant state of excitement.
This wasn’t the usual sex dream, though.
Maybe it was four days in close proximity to the hottest guy she’d ever met. Hormones run amok. Constant awareness keeping her passions simmering. Heck, maybe it was just horny overload.
Whatever it was, Marni’s body was on fire.
Curiosity pierced her sleepy cocoon.
She pulled herself out of sleep just enough to take stock of what was going on.