Wicked Temptation

by Linda Verji

  She wanted him. Oh, how she wanted him. She wanted him with a desperation that left her breathless. There was no doubt that sex between them would be explosive. But then again it wouldn't just be sex, would it? Someone would fall in love - she'd fall in love. And that would mark the beginning of the end for Danny because people she loved died.

  The logical part of her knew that she was being silly, and ridiculous. No one could kill someone just by loving them or being loved by them. But another part of her knew - it just knew that however illogical her conclusions were they were facts. Somehow, someway she'd find a way to kill Danny. She'd found a way to kill her brother, hadn't she? And she'd certainly found a way to kill her parents.

  How she wished she could push Danny away from her life, cut him off for good if only to keep him alive. But she couldn't. She'd tried to stay away from him after her parents died. She'd really tried. But unlike Tony he wasn't that easy to get rid of. No matter how rude she was, how many phone-calls she’d ignored, he kept coming back until, finally, she'd thrown her hands up and let him stay.

  She'd convinced herself that as long as they were just friends, he was safe from her curse. But keeping their relationship platonic was becoming harder with each day, especially after that kiss. Her toes curled at the reminder of that deliciously, erotic kiss and her body pulsed with need. But she swallowed that need, forced it back to its dark cave, back into hiding.

  It felt like she was walking a tight rope with no safety net beneath to catch her; aching to let him love her but afraid of its consequences. Her fear surged forward, like a thick cloud and overshadowed any lingering desire. She had enough death on her hands. She couldn't take anymore. Especially not Danny's. She pulled away from him, and turned to face the window, knowing that it was the best thing to do.

  However that didn't ease the restlessness smoldering in her blood.

  Danny didn't plan on spending the whole night in Misha's bed, but now that he was there it felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He drifted into wakefulness slowly, drawn by the heavy mass of warmth lying beside him. He opened his eyes to meet the feeble rays of first morning light feeding through the drapes and into the room. His gaze lowered to the woman lying beside him.

  Misha lay with her head propped on his shoulder, her even breaths warming his skin, her palm teasing his right pectoral muscle and her leg set over his. He was vaguely aware of the orange blossom and butter cookies fragrance that clung to her, that his arm was around her, and that he could feel her body heat through her flimsy t-shirt and shorts. Yet he couldn’t pull his gaze from her face.

  He stared at her, bewitched by her beauty. Misha wasn't perfect but as far as he was concerned, she was damn near it. His eyes slid to her lips; her full moist lips slightly parted as if waiting to be kissed. Immediately his senses reared in awareness. They prodded, begged him to begin his mission to shatter her defenses right now, right here. He wanted nothing more than to lower his lips to hers and drown in her taste again.

  But he didn't.

  When - not if - when he kissed her again, he wanted her awake and completely cognizant.

  Somewhere between watching her yesterday and holding her to ward off her nightmares, he'd realized that he'd given up on them too fast. He should never have allowed his pricked ego to accept her weak excuse about why they wouldn't work. He should've pushed harder, worked harder, chased harder.

  Misha was worth chasing.

  And if she rejected him again… no, he wouldn't let that possibility cloud his determination. This time he was playing to win, and he had a plan. No more ambushing her with his feelings. He'd take it slow, draw her in like a jittery filly then tempt her with tastes of what could be if she'd just let them happen. By the time he was done, she'd think it was her idea.

  His arm tightening around her waist, he lowered his head and brushed his lips over her forehead. In response, she released a gush of breath and shifted her thigh higher - right over his cock.

  Danny sucked in a slow steady breath, his stomach muscles tightening as he mentally willed his dick to stay down. Of course it didn't. It reared up like a bull that had seen a red cape. And why wouldn't it? He was in bed with a woman he'd spent a good portion of his life craving. It was sheer luck that he hadn't mauled her during the night while his subconscious was running the show. Desire surged through him with a tidal wave force that had his cock swelling more and pressing into Misha's thigh.

  That pressure felt so good, so, so good. However, he couldn't let it continue. At least not while she was sleeping. He lowered his hand to her thigh, shifting it off the danger zone. But apparently Misha was all about danger because her hand lowered from his chest, down his torso… and took over the position that her thigh had just left.

  Bloody hell.

  She didn't have to move her fingers; the heat and weight of her palm resting over his length was enough to shift him from rising into fully erect. It should've been easy enough to move her hand. It wasn't. Every inch of him seemed frozen in shock, anticipation. Tension stretched and undisguised lust burned within him as he took a deep gulp of her womanly scent and reveled in the feel of her hand on him.

  He willed her to squeeze him, stroke him, wake up and give him the leeway he needed to touch her too. He wanted to make love to her. To push up her t-shirt and reveal those gorgeously heavy breast that pushed against him with each deep breath she took and released. To strip her of those ridiculously tiny shorts and touch his lips to her thick thighs and the v between them. She was lush, beautiful and all woman… the kind of woman any man would want to have in his bed.

  But not today.

  With extreme care, he moved her hand from his dick, eased her off his shoulder and quietly moved off the bed. He stiffened when she sighed heavily and shifted. But she was only turning to face the other side of the bed, leaving him with an enticing view of her barely clad ass.

  Noooo. His rampant erection protested when he turned away from the sight.

  Soon. He promised himself as he exited the room. Very soon.

  CHAPTER 13

  By the time Danny was done with his usual morning swim and shower, Aiko was up. The enticing smells of pancakes, coffee and eggs drew him from his room. Still wrestling his tie into a neat knot, he strode to the kitchen to find her preparing breakfast.

  "Morning," Aiko greeted with a smile as she flipped a pancake.

  "Morning," he returned. "You shouldn't be doing that. You're my guest. I should be the one cooking for you."

  "You? Cook for me?" Aiko eyes widened in mock fear. "I have a flight today, and I can't afford to have food poisoning. I've heard all about your shady cooking skills."

  "My cooking skills aren't shady," Danny protested. "And who is this you heard it from?" His eyes narrowed. "Why do I even ask? Misha's been ruining my name again, hasn't she?"

  "Don't sulk." Aiko laughed. "Apart from warning us that you're capable of burning water, she always has good things to say about you."

  "Really?" Her comment peaked his interest. Aiko was one of Misha closest friends and likely to know if Misha had feelings for him. Feigning nonchalance, he opened a kitchen cupboard and while picking a mug asked, "What good things does she say about me?"

  "Wouldn't you like to know?" Aiko teased, undeceived by the fake casualness.

  Their easy conversation continued as Aiko finished up with breakfast preparations. Leaving Danny devouring his meal, she headed to the guest room to wake up Seraphina and pack. She came back an hour later with the still sleepy child in her arms. Danny cleared the few dishes in the sink while the two ate their own breakfast; a feat that was so unlike him that when his housekeeper walked into the kitchen, she was taken aback.

  "You're trying to ship me off to your mother, aren't you," the fortyish, pleasant face woman exclaimed. "Mrs. Edya has been harassing you again, hasn't she? Well I'm not going back. I'll stage a sit in, a hunger strike-"

  "Relax." Danny laughed. Before he'd hired her, Sarah had been
the housekeeper at their family’s mansion. His mother was not known for her tolerance of sub-standard work. As soon as she'd discovered Sarah had Breast Cancer, she'd fired her because as she put it 'this is not a hospital'.

  Sometimes Danny couldn't understand his mother's callousness. Sarah had been with them for over two decades. Didn't they owe her for her loyalty and dedication? Furthermore, how was she, a single mother of three, supposed to get well if she couldn't afford her treatments or to take care of her family? Surely, they were rich enough to carry Sarah until she was better. That reasoning had only drawn a, 'We're not the Red Cross either' from his mother.

  He'd hired Sarah to do what she could do in his house, and whenever she was too ill, a for-hire crew picked up the slack. Needless to say, his mother wasn't a happy camper. Edya had called Sarah telling her to stop taking advantage of Danny. But now that Sarah was in remission and back in tip-top shape, Edya was trying to get her back.

  Danny explained, "I'm not trading you in. I'm just helping out."

  "You know I don't like when you help," Sarah scolded. She pulled a plate from the rack and shook her head. "Look at this. Smudges everywhere."

  It looked perfectly clean but Danny who was used to her hyper-critical ways just shrugged. "I'm sorry. I won't touch it again."

  "Please tell me that you didn't make breakfast too," Sarah reproached as she emptied the whole rack of dishes back into the sink." I don't want you poisoning these poor folks."

  Aiko laughed. "No, I'm the one who made it."

  "Good, this place needs a woman's touch." She added, "Thank goodness Miss Misha is here now."

  Miss Misha, it seemed, was completely undisturbed by the lively conversation going on in the house. Danny found her deep asleep when he went to check on her. Aiko even considered not telling her that they were leaving for the airport. But knowing Misha would want to say goodbye and would take it out on him if she didn't get the opportunity, Danny insisted Aiko wake her up.

  While Misha, Aiko and Seraphina said their goodbyes, Danny gave Sarah her instructions for the day. "Don't let Misha sleep the whole day. The doctor said that she needs exercise. She's on medication that she needs to take every six hours. Remind her to take them."

  "She's a grown woman," Sarah huffed. "I'm sure she'll remember to take her pills."

  "Just remind her," Danny insisted. He hesitated for a few seconds before adding, "Do you remember the case I told you about? The one about the man who was killed by the same person who broke into Misha's house?"

  "Eric Ingram?"

  "Yes." He paused again, then plunged in, "I don't want Misha investigating it."

  Sarah eyed him for a moment then burst into laughter. "No way. You don't pay me enough to get in Miss Misha's way when she's on a case."

  It wasn't that Danny didn't appreciate Misha's promise to leave the detecting to Tony. He just didn't trust her to keep her snooping instincts in check without help. She was too invested in Eric's case to let it go that easily. The only way to make sure she did was to keep a close eye on her.

  "I'll give you a bonus," he offered Sarah.

  "I'll take the bonus," she accepted then dashed his hopes, "but I'm still not tangling with Miss Misha. What do you want me to do? Hide her laptop? Handcuff her to the couch?"

  Danny hadn't thought out the logistics but those sounded like pretty good ideas. "Ac-"

  "No." Sarah cut him off. "You're on your own."

  If working from home was an option he would've taken it, but for the next couple of days this new movie required his personal attention. Threats would have to do for now.

  "I'm watching you," he warned Misha when he stopped by her room to let her know he was driving Aiko to the airport before heading to work.

  "Watching me do what?" Misha asked innocently as she lay curled up in the bed, her voice still heavy with sleep. Her bob was a mess with her hair standing in every direction while her eyes were still heavy with exhaustion. But despite her bedraggled condition she was still enough to make his breath catch, and he wanted to cuddle, caress and kiss her.

  Shoving down his desire, he commanded, "No investigating."

  "Okay." She nodded agreeably.

  "I'm serious."

  She smiled. "I can see that."

  "Misha." He threw in a bit of menace into his tone and narrowed his eyes.

  "Danny," she returned, not in the least bit menaced. He opened his mouth to emphasize his order, but before he could, she sighed. "I heard you. No investigating." She pouted. "Don't you trust me?"

  His response was fast and unequivocal. "No."

  "Wow. You didn't even hesitate." Shaking her head, she huffed in frustration. She reached across to the bedside table, grabbed her phone then held it out to Danny. "Here."

  He glared at the gadget suspiciously. "Why are you giving me your phone?"

  "You can GPS me," she offered. "I can't investigate if I can't go anywhere, can I? And if I do leave the house, you'll know exactly where I am. That should make you happy."

  The offer seemed too good to be true. His mind raced as he tried to figure out her angle, but he came up empty. However, GPS was better than nothing. He reached for her phone. A few flicks over her screen and he paired their phones.

  "I can't believe you don't trust me," Misha huffed in indignation as she reached for her phone.

  "I can't believe you don't believe I don't trust you," Danny retorted as he bent down to press kiss to her temple. "Don't sleep too long and make sure you eat."

  "Yes, Daddy," she teased.

  His body tightened at her teasing, and it took everything in him not to bend down and kiss her right on the mouth. Shaking his head, he walked away, "Bye, Michelle."

  Please! Danny didn't know her that well if he thought that a lack of mobility could slow her down. Misha had once bursted a drug ring in Colombia while seated at her desk in New York. Anything was possible if you knew the right people. Furthermore, she could leave the house if she wanted to. It wasn't like the phone was glued to her palm.

  Oh, Danny, Danny. As soon as he was out of the house and Sarah was done fussing over her, Misha picked up the phone and called her source.

  "No," Sal Martin exclaimed the moment she picked the phone. "Absolutely not."

  "Aw, come on, Sal," Misha cajoled. "I just want a little information."

  "Then google like everyone else," the other woman retorted. "I'm hanging up."

  "Wait, don't," Misha protested.

  "Wait for what?" Sal snapped. "For you to get me in trouble with Tony again?"

  "This time he won't know. I promise," Misha wheedled. Sal was the chief forensic investigator at the precinct and thus a valuable asset. Misha had met the lady while she was still on crime beat. Unlike Tony, Sal was pragmatic. The news would get out there anyway; why not profit out of it?

  "That's what you said last time." Sal snorted. "And he still found out."

  "He only found out because we used your forensic lingo in the article. But-"

  "We used," Sal cut in. "You used. Do you know how pissed Tony was at me? I'm lucky he's not a snitch, otherwise I would be out of a job - because of you."

  Resisting the urge to remind Sal that she hadn't been forced to do anything and had in fact been paid handsomely for the information, Misha soothed, "This time he won't find out because I'm not putting it in the paper."

  Sal's voice was tinged with suspicion. "What do you mean you're not putting it in the paper?"

  "Haven't you heard? I'm not on the crime beat anymore."

  "I'm not falling for that. You could pass the info to one of your people."

  "But I won't." Misha paused then added, "this one is personal not professional. You've heard of Eric Ingram's case, right?"

  Sal offered her a chilly, "Maybe."

  "Well the person who killed Eric took a shot at me too."

  "Really?" Sal's surprise sounded genuine.

  "Really," Misha confirmed. "And I'd like to make sure he or she doesn't get away wit
h it. Nothing you give me will go to the papers. I swear. And you know my word is good."

  There was a long pause during which Misha could practically hear the wheels spinning in Sal's brain. Then the investigator said, "If it's personal do I still get paid?"

  Yes. Ha. Pumping her fist in the air victoriously, Misha rushed to reassure Sal, "Of course, you still get paid our usual rate."

  Sal exhaled loudly. "And Tony can't know."

  "He won't."

  "Fine. Give me a few minutes then check your email."

  "Thank you Sa-" Misha started but the other woman ended the call before she could finish. However, even Sal's rudeness wasn't enough to dim Misha's excitement. In a few short moments she'd know everything the cops knew about Eric, the Wildes and anyone else who was tangled up in this mess.

  She wanted to feel guilty for breaking her agreement with Danny, but she couldn't. Not when she could feel the adrenalin pulsing through her in heavy waves, stoked by the thought of another hunt. The rush was intoxicating. Like a wildfire sweeping through a forest, it fired her and set her on edge.

  That wildfire cooled somewhat when she saw the size of Sal's report. The damn thing was only two pages. Two. Heck, even suicides had longer reports. Misha scanned through the document, picking up the most pertinent facts.

  Eric Ingram. 27. Allerton East University. No known romantic connections. One known relative. Next of kin - Judy Quinn, aunt. Personal Assistant to Katherine Wilde. Gunshot to the back of the head. .38 unregistered. Assailant unknown - suspected mugging.

  Were these people daft? There was no way Eric's case was a simple mugging; especially not after the Katherine-Eric conversation in the bathroom and Misha's attack. She scanned the pages trying to find any mention of the blackmail conversation. There was none. In fact Misha's name appeared nowhere in the document's two pages.