There were only a few coins inside, not enough to hire a taxi to take her home. She refused to return to the party. Walking home in high heels and swirling snow was out of the question. More than likely, Michael would drag her back to his table, to his groping hands and to his display of sarcastic affection.
The wind blew through her thin dress. She rubbed her forearms and waited for a taxi to appear. There had to be quite a few making the trip to the hotel tonight for attendees of the Christmas parties.
A taxi with a neon yellow light on its roof pulled up. A man got out, paid the driver and, before he walked into the hotel, she motioned to the driver she needed a ride. He nodded in acknowledgement. Glad to be out of the bitterly cold wind and driving snow, she got into the back seat. She had no idea how she would pay for the fare, but wouldn't worry about that until the car was well away from the hotel.
The driver checked with the dispatcher, stating his current location and his next destination in a monotone in the typical attitude of a man just putting in time at a job he hated. The delay grated on Nicole's nerves. She leaned an elbow against the door and, collapsing with relief, closed her eyes. Hell would freeze over before she ever saw James again.
The taxi was about to pull away from the kerb when she heard a shouted, “Wait!"
She flashed her eyes open. “No!” she called out to the driver. “Don't stop! Don't stop!"
The door flew open and she looked straight into the angry eyes of her former lover as he pushed his muscled thigh against her, sliding into the seat beside her.
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Chapter Four
* * * *
Bryan Carmichael ignored Colin's grunt of pain. Instead he turned his head to watch Nicole as long as he could before she disappeared into the partying crowd. If he wasn't mistaken, the beeper had been a signal between Michael and Nicole. First he would leave on urgent business. Minutes later, she would follow. Bryan threw back his beer, enjoying the cold searing down his throat. He couldn't see what Michael saw in the woman but wasn't beauty in the eye of the beholder? She was much too curvy for his tastes. But, he had to hand it to her, feisty, since she had just slammed a plate in Colin's face. Hell, she might be a woman worth knowing after all, if she could best good ‘ole Colin.
He let out a deep breath and raked a hand through his hair. There was something familiar about her—something he couldn't quite place. The way that little red number clung to her hips, and the way she moved with quiet self-assurance on those high heels made him wish he had a hot date.
Michael was a lucky bugger though. But why hadn't she come with him instead of with Brad? Maybe it was an affair—ooh, Michael, fooling around with a practically married woman. But that wasn't his cousin's style. Maybe Colin's, but not Michael's.
Colin, the Iceman, nudged his elbow. Bryan squinted up at him, unaware he had moved out of his chair.
"What the fuck, man? You want me to deck you?"
Colin rubbed his nose but it appeared no permanent damage had been done. His nose was probably the steel trap door to the murky depths of his brain. “Let's get the fuck out of here. Party at the Longhorn. Maybe get a piece of ass."
Bryan didn't mistake the deep-seated anger in the man's steely grey eyes. He didn't take offence at antagonistic behaviour. Matter of fact, he seemed to thrive on anything defenceless. It was something about being superior to everyone else in the human race. “You chase all the piece of ass away with your damned ‘I'm bad’ attitude."
"Feeling sorry for yourself, bro?"
"Look, man. Just because you're family doesn't mean I have to like you, or get along with you. Get my drift? And I'm not your ‘bro'."
Colin dropped down into the next chair and lit a cigarette, every movement unhurried and precise. “You choose your friends, but your family's inflicted upon you. That it?"
"Right. So get out of my face."
"Why not give me a break?” Colin raised his chin and blew smoke into the air.
"Thought Nicole already did that.” Now there was a thought. How would ‘ole Saint Colin handle another plate in the face?
"Smartass.” Colin took another drag.
"One of my better traits.” Ever since Michael had hired him on at Anessa, Iceman had resented him. Bryan was willing to make a bet Colin didn't have a heart. But not tonight. If it had been his choice, he would have gone to the Longhorn to drink the night away, long before he would have chosen to come to this damned party. His memory replayed Tom screaming soundlessly as the machinery screeched in the background. And all the blood and human and animal flesh together didn't help put any man in a festive mood.
"Look. I know you've got money problems. I'll take care of the evening. Okay?"
"Just another way to buy me.” Yeah, he had some heavy gambling debts, but he'd kicked the habit and was making some headway in paying them off.
"Call it what you want. Hell. I can pay off all your debts."
"Don't doubt that.” The man was rich. No, filthy rich described him better. “Next thing you're going to tell me is you've got connections."
"No question about that.” Insanely, the comment must have pleased Colin. He puffed his chest out. Any moment he would look like a peacock strutting his stuff.
"Where'd they go?"
Colin blew a chain of rings. “Who?” he asked. Pretending innocence didn't suit him one bit. A haze of smoke hovered above his head, then lazily drifted off, courtesy of the air conditioning.
"Michael and Nicole.” Stupid jerk. He'd probably already forgotten the woman's name. Anyone who walked in a skirt was only a piece of ass to Saint Colin.
"S'pose they went out to screw each other."
Bryan sipped his beer. There wasn't much left, and he would soon have to flag a waiter down. Every occasion with his cousin went like this. Monotonous bantering and the sense of having missed an insensitive joke.
"Jeezus,” Bryan groaned as his swollen ankle reminded him who the boss was this evening.
"Nothing wrong with that. A man needs a woman to fuck once in a while. ‘Sides, Michael earned it.” Preoccupied, Iceman lifted a fork and scratched its tines against the empty dinner plate in front of him.
"Thought she's engaged to Brad,” Bryan said, irritated at the sound of metal on china.
His cousin shrugged and scratched harder. “Those things don't mean anything."
Bryan fell silent. His relationship with women was zip about now.
Bryan was about to grab the fork from Colin's hand and shove the tines up his ass. The incessant screeching drove him nuts.
Thankfully, the scratching ceased. Colin twirled the fork level with his nose. “When you're married, you're tied down. Limited to one ass. When you're single, you get plenty—however and whenever you want it—no bitch hollering her head off, ‘Where've you been?’ and ‘Where you going?’”
"Nice,” Bryan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His girl, Marla, had opted to remain in Chicago after Michael had offered him the assistant super job at Anessa. Of course, it was a once-in-a-lifetime offer, especially when no one else wanted to risk giving him a job. The work would give Bryan a chance to get his life in order. Marla wanted to stay rooted. A couple of months later, he'd discovered she had remained behind because she was seeing someone else. A guy calling himself Big Dick. “So why's she sticking with Brad?"
"She'll leave him soon enough. He can't stand up to my brother. And if he does, then I'll give him a little of this.” Colin curled his hand into a fist and waved it around.
"You'll make sure of that, won't you?"
"'Sides, she's preggo."
"That's surprising.” Michael was everything a woman could wish for. Good-looking, wealthy and had his head on straight.
"Why's that? They are fucking each other."
Bryan had the feeling he had missed something important but he couldn't put his finger on it. Why hadn't he heard of Michael's affair with the pretty woman before now?
He rubbed h
is palm against his knee. It was Michael's business what he did with Nicole. He got to his feet, using the table for support.
"Hey. Where ya going?"
"Another universe. Preferably without you in it."
His biting remark had no effect on the Iceman who laughed. “We'll take ourselves to Joel's. See what's hanging, maybe find a piece of ass."
"I'm sure Joel will be thrilled to see you.” In the same way an unexpected bill arrived in the mail when a Joe had no idea how he was going to pay for the last few hundred he had received.
All Colin did was grunt.
* * * *
In a futile attempt to escape, Nicole slid across the seat to get out of the far side door, but Michael caught her upper right arm in a vice-like grip. She lifted her left hand, aiming her outstretched fingers at his eyes but he seized both her wrists with strong hands.
"Let me go or I'll gouge your eyes out,” she threatened.
"I believe you're tied up at the moment,” he said to her softly. To the driver, louder, he said, “There's a thousand dollars at the end of the road. Continue to wherever the lady told you."
"Don't listen to him. Don't let his money blindside you,” Nicole lashed out. She saw how the driver paused, apparently impressed by his male passenger's wealthy appearance and the offer of an easy thousand bucks.
"Yes, sir!” The driver floored the gas pedal and didn't look back in the rear-view mirror as the car pulled away from the kerb.
"You son-of-a-bitch,” Nicole ground out at her captor, feeling as trapped in the car as she had in the ballroom.
"Why don't you accept this is simply a lovers’ tiff and you'll soon get over your petty irritation?” His voice was deep, calming and deceptively soothing.
"Because I'm not your lover and I'm more than a little irritated.” Her fury knew no bounds. How could he think he could pick up where they had left off that day in the meadows near the lake?
"If looks could only kill,” he said, mildly amused.
"Then you'd be long dead."
Stony silence descended. The snow fell heavily. The windshield wipers scratched the glass in front of the driver.
Nicole's chest heaved up and down and she panted with restrained anger. And passion. Belatedly, she realised the hem of her dress had ridden high up her thighs.
"I have the sudden urge to spank you,” Michael murmured.
The driver chuckled. The sound infuriated her to such an extent she couldn't think straight. She was damned if Michael thought he could do what he wanted with her. But did she really want to stop him? “You wouldn't dare,” she flashed back.
"Would you like that? Or would you rather give me a kiss?” He easily clasped her slim wrists together in one hand and ran his free hand down the nape of her neck under her ponytail.
"I don't want you touching me.” The notion she wanted anything to do with the murderer she had testified against disturbed her. He smelt of musk and a volatile maleness that had always overwhelmed her feminine senses.
As the driver pulled on to the deserted highway several miles from the hotel, the cab's interior dimmed in the surrounding darkness.
"What if I don't give you a choice?"
"Then you'll spend more time in jail."
"Is that really what you want, Nicole? To be alone for the rest of your life?"
"I did well enough without you.” The loneliness she had endured, the crushing of her young adult dreams of being with him for the rest of her life, made a lie of what she said.
"Sure you did. That's why you're thinking of marrying a man who doesn't give a fuck about you."
"You wouldn't know that."
"No?” He pursed his lips and his eyes glittered in the lights of an oncoming car. “I can tell you lots about him but I'm not going to waste words. His actions speak for themselves."
His charming grin almost made her swoon but she would never admit that—not to his face.
"Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. “You mean everything to me."
"You honestly think I'm going to believe that?” He wanted revenge for the years he had spent in prison. He didn't want her or miss her because he loved her.
"Why wouldn't you?” A delicate frown marred his forehead.
"Because you're a murderer and a liar."
"And you think the two go hand in hand?” He shook his head from side to side as if to say that her thinking on the subject needed some adjustment.
"Of course they do!"
"What if they don't?"
"I don't need you in my life. You're an unwanted complication."
"Really?” The word was barely spoken above a whisper.
"I'm getting married."
He laughed, the sound brittle and dry in the enclosed space of the cab. “Of course you are. To me."
She groaned and struggled to free herself, but he was much stronger than she remembered. The thought made her pussy tingle with awareness.
"As for complications"—he shook his head—"I'm not one of them.” He lowered his head, leaving his sexy lips a fraction of an inch above hers. Oh God, but she didn't want him near her. She didn't want him in her life. No, she wanted to kiss him, to savour the taste of his mouth on hers, to forget the years he had been in prison. But she couldn't let herself forget he had killed his father in cold blood.
His musky scent lingered in the car, making her fear his nearness would make her lose her tight grip on her self-control. She should never have become involved with him in the first place. What did a girl from the wrong side of town have in common with a man who had more than he knew what to do with? “Don't,” she pleaded, more to herself than to him. She couldn't allow herself to fall in love with him again. She would be the one who would suffer the emotional devastation when her neatly constructed world spun out of control.
Michael's eyes, hard orbs in the shadows, sparkled. He closed the gap between their lips. His kiss, swift and brutally hard, took her breath away. A frisson of ruthless delight edged up her spine.
When he lifted his head, a languid smile played across his mouth. “What do you have underneath that dress? A lace bra and thong panties? The kind you used to wear for me?"
She gasped at his audacity and her poignant memories. “It's none of your business what I'm wearing.” Warm wetness seeped between her thighs. She wanted to be naked for him.
"I'd say it is.” His focus strayed from the swell of her breasts and to the darkness beyond the window. “Driver, pull over now,” he ordered.
"Yes, sir."
Dared she think he had tired of her protests and would let the cab take her home? Or, she shuddered, was this the place he would murder her in retaliation for putting him in prison for so many years?
"I won't let you ditch me here!"
Michael turned on her. “Is that what you think I'm going to do?"
There was something in his eyes, a steely coldness, forewarning her of what was to come. She tried to jerk free, but his hold was relentless.
The taxi skidded to a squealing halt next to the limousine she had seen pulling away from the hotel earlier in the evening. Michael dragged her out of one car and shoved her inside the luxury vehicle. Stunned, she landed hard on the dark, plush seat, momentarily immobile.
"Give him a grand,” Michael commanded the limousine's driver. The door closed and deafening silence enveloped her.
She felt his looming presence, could smell the scent of his male arousal. She was about to bring herself to a seated position when he shocked her by ripping the lace from the hem of her dress and throwing it on the carpeted floor. “I paid for this dress. I can have it the way I like it."
The knowledge that Brad hadn't purchased the dress, as he had told her, struck her in the pit of her stomach. Michael's icy expression prodded her into action. She launched herself at the nearest door, thrusting her shoulder against the padding. The door wouldn't budge.
"I was expecting you would try to escape,” he said quietl
y. She looked over her shoulder as he seized her arms, forcing her to look into his face. A shiver ran down her spine as she saw anger spark in his gorgeous blue eyes.
"You owe me,” he whispered gruffly, sliding his broad hands erotically down her forearms. Nicole shuddered as he circled one hand around both her wrists, and slowly dragged the ponytail holder from her hair. The rich strands cascaded down around her face, and down to rest at her waist.
"I don't owe you a damned thing. You deserved what you got.” Was he insane to think she owed him anything? Fear clawed at her throat. He wanted nothing less than revenge.
"You owe me more than anyone else in the world, sweetheart."
The car started to move smoothly forward. She blinked repeatedly, wishing she could kill him. But was he worth going to prison for? She shook her head.
Gently, he laid her back against the luxurious seat. He knelt on top of her, across her thighs, effectively trapping her. If she raised her knee to kick at him, the movement would be to no avail. She soaked in the heady scent of his arousal.
"I don't like this, either.” Her jacket ripped away at the shoulders. He threw that too on the floor.
Nicole shivered. “What do you like?” she breathed, angered that he could pin her down but furious with herself for allowing him to overpower her.
For the first time since they had met at the party, she examined his face. He had aged, she saw with a touch of remorse. Wrinkles sat at the corners of his eyes and at the tips of his luscious lips. And his eyes, the mirrors to his soul, appeared world-weary. What had he seen in prison? she found herself wondering. She had heard, somewhere, that incarceration behind prison walls made men cynical. Was that true in Michael's case?
"I like you in my arms and in my bed,” he responded quietly.
The momentary remorse she had felt at testifying against him dissipated into nothingness. A sudden chill hung in the air as she said, “In that case, a scorpion would suit you better."
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