“But he specifically asked for me,” Claudia reminded him.
“He wants the money. As long as he gets it, he’s not going to care who the delivery man is,” Leandro argued.
Claudia could feel her temper flaring. She knew what he was doing—trying to protect her. It was so damned Greek of him, it made her want to spit.
“I can take care of myself,” she said.
“No offence, Claudia, but if things turn bad and this guy grabs you, you don’t stand a chance in hell,” Leandro said. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Well, guess what? Not your choice. Last time I looked, you didn’t own me and I had a mind of my own.” She turned back toward the detectives who were watching their interplay with unashamed interest.
“So, I wear a wire. What else?” Claudia said.
Leandro sat back and crossed his big arms over his chest, radiating disapproval. Claudia ignored him. When hell froze over, he could call the shots for her.
Over the next hour, they outlined their plan of attack. Claudia agreed to arrive at the station at six on the evening of the drop in order to be wired and go over any last-minute instructions. The overall plan was simple—meet the contact, hand over the money, trail him back to his bolt-hole. Once the police were confident they had him bottled up, they would raid the place and seize both the money and the footage.
“What about when this goes to trial? Can we keep the footage under wraps?” Leandro asked.
“Your lawyers can take care of that end. You should be able to keep the content quiet. It’s the extortion itself that we’re interested in,” Detective Arnold said.
It was midnight by the time they exited the police station. Claudia stood in the cool night air and circled her stiff shoulders. Meeting with a blackmailer and spending hours with the cops was not exactly her idea of a rockin’ Tuesday night in Hollywood.
“Okay, I’ll see you on Friday. Call me if you think of anything else we need to cover. I’ll talk to Alicia, reassure her,” she said, fishing her car keys from her pocket and turning away.
“Not so fast,” Leandro said, grabbing her arm.
She glared at his big hand wrapped around her forearm, her message clear: back off. Typically, he didn’t.
“I don’t want you doing the drop,” he said firmly.
“Well, when you’re wearing the magical ruby slippers, you can close your eyes, click your heels and make that happen. Until then, I get to make my own decisions,” she said sweetly.
He narrowed his gaze at her. “I bet you used to drive your parents crazy when you were a kid,” he said.
“They survived,” she said shortly, not liking the rush of unexpected hurt that washed over her at the mention of her parents. Twice now in two days they’d crept into her thoughts out of nowhere. She didn’t like it. They’d all made their choices years ago. She’d lived with hers this long, and was satisfied that she could continue doing so.
He was staring down at her, concern written on his handsome face. Releasing her arm, he cuffed her gently on the shoulder, a gentle chastisement.
“You’re an idiot. Is it so awful that someone cares if you get hurt?” he asked quietly.
She blinked, thrown. Flirting she could handle. Arrogance and egotism, too. But tenderness, sincerity—she’d never been good with either of those.
“You sure it’s not just because you want to be in charge?” she said.
He frowned. “Yeah, I am.”
“I can handle it,” she said firmly.
He nodded slowly. “Okay. Fine. I won’t say another word—on one condition.”
“This’ll be good,” she said, hand on hip.
“You have dinner with me.”
It wasn’t what she’d been expecting, and she shifted uneasily.
“Leandro, be serious. Sure, we’re both curious about each other, about what it would be like. But it’s our job to beat each other at what we do for a living. It’s actually written into my employment contract. Under the circumstances, sleeping together would be pretty stupid.”
He just held her eye. “Dinner. Restaurant of my choice.”
Shaking her head, she turned toward her car. “You’re a hot kisser, but not that hot,” she said, deliberately echoing the words he’d used earlier on the phone.
Only she would ever know how much her hands were shaking when she got into her car. For good or for ill, she was terribly, terribly attracted to this man. She remembered her recent jealousy over the tall police detective with a wince. The sooner this whole extortion matter was dealt with and gone, the sooner she could go back to competing with Leandro from a distance. A nice, safe, long distance.
* * *
THE THING WAS, Leandro concluded on Thursday evening, he was used to being in charge of his world. He called the shots at Heartlands, he was respected in the industry, even his father listened to him these days. It had been a long time since things hadn’t gone his way. Now, in the space of a few months, Claudia Dostis had challenged his status quo on several fronts. First, she’d beaten his wedding special in the ratings—even if only by a few points, technically she’d bested him. Then she’d won that damned award. And now he could not get her out of his mind.
Every night, as soon as he loosened his grip on his mind and drifted toward sleep, she crept into his bed. Her smell, the feel of her curvy body pressed up against his, the glint in her eyes as she defied him—his dreams became an elaborate series of cock-teases. Just when he’d get her where he wanted her, she’d slip from his grasp and disappear, only for him to chase her and the same thing happen again and again. Every morning he woke with a hard-on that would not quit. He was starting to feel like a fifteen year old, the amount of times he’d had to resort to hand relief in the shower before he was fit to go into work.
Somehow he had to get her into bed. Deliberately he gave no thought to what would happen after he’d satisfied his curiosity. What was the point? It wasn’t as though they were talking hearts and flowers here—they were simply hot for each other. And with a bit of luck they’d put each other out of their mutual misery in the very near future. End of story.
Now, if he could get the ridiculous urge to protect her from her own folly out of his system as easily. She’d stated unequivocally that she was delivering the money to Rat Man. As far as she was concerned, that was the end of the discussion. But Leandro simply could not reconcile himself to the thought of her taking all the risk to save both their heinies. Maybe he was just a male chauvinist at heart, but surely it was okay for men and women to admit they were better at certain things, even in these enlightened times? For example, he was willing to admit that she would probably have a leg up when it came to counseling an upset employee. Maybe she’d even have him whipped in casting to suit a female-based audience. So what was so wrong about both of them acknowledging that when it came to matters of brute force, he had about a hundred pounds and over a foot in height on her?
The worse thing was, he knew he was going to have to suck it up. Short of kidnapping her and keeping her tied up in the trunk of his car until the exchange was complete, there was no way he could stop her from putting herself in danger. Which left him feeling both horny and worried as he paced the polished floorboards in his West Hollywood condo.
Shaking his head at his one-track mind, he padded barefoot into the kitchen and filled a tumbler with an inch of the single malt Scotch he kept for such occasions. His mail sat unopened on the kitchen counter, neatly stacked there by his housekeeper. Savoring the burn of good liquor finding its way to his belly, Leandro leafed through the envelopes. He recognized Peta’s handwriting on the last letter—a large, flat legal envelope—and he tore it open with more vigor than finesse.
She’d signed the divorce papers. He stared at their two signatures sitting side by side—two large, flamboyant, sprawling monikers that spoke volumes about each of them individually and the two of them as a couple.
He was a free man. Again. It was only as he registered
the fact that he understood it was the last thing he wanted. It wasn’t about Peta, about missing her. He’d fallen out of love with her long ago. It was that he liked being in a relationship. He liked the routine, the companionship, the private jokes and small moments of silent communion that peppered any good relationship. He wanted to share his life with someone. Work was not enough anymore. Sex with women he didn’t care for wasn’t enough, either. He wanted more.
Tossing back the last of his Scotch, Leandro made his way to the living room and threw himself down on the sleek leather couch lining one wall. The television offered no solace and he switched it off after sixty seconds of fruitless channel surfing.
Finally, after a pointless ten minutes of internal struggle that had been destined to fail from the very beginning, he picked up his cell phone and punched in Claudia’s number.
She answered on the third ring.
“Leandro,” she said.
She sounded sleepy and surprised.
“Hi,” he said, settling back onto the couch and closing his eyes. She had a great voice—a rich contralto with a husk in the lower register.
“Has something come up?” she asked. He heard the sound of water slapping against something on her end of the phone.
“No. You’re in the bath, aren’t you?” he guessed.
She hesitated a moment. “Yes.”
He groaned. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”
“Some. If it’s anything like what you’re doing to me,” she said.
He smiled. What was it about the phone that allowed people to say things they’d never say in person? He could never imagine Claudia making herself so vulnerable, admitting so much if she were standing in front of him. Still, now that she had…
“I could come over there and do it in person,” he said.
“I’ve got an early start,” she said after a significant pause.
He sat up straight. He’d expected an outright no, but obviously the few days since they’d last spoken had been as tough for her as they had been for him.
“Okay,” he said slowly, “maybe we should book that dinner, then.”
“Okay.”
One word, and he was as hard as titanium. Harder.
“Jesus,” he swore under his breath.
She laughed, the sound low and knowing. “You okay there?”
“Barely.”
“I’ve been thinking about you.”
“Yeah?”
“I was thinking about you just before you called, actually,” she purred.
He swallowed. “Yeah? Any particular part of me you were thinking about?” he asked, shifting to ease the pressure caused by his raging hard-on.
“Oh yeah. Your nose,” she said.
He was so surprised he barked out a laugh. “You’re kidding.”
“It’s a very sexy nose. A nice, big strong nose,” she said.
He shifted again. “Claudia, you’re killing me here,” he said.
“Tomorrow night. Let’s do dinner tomorrow night,” she said.
“After the drop? Done,” he said.
“I have to go now. I don’t want to get the phone wet,” she said.
He closed his eyes and prayed for patience.
“You’re a super vixen, did you know that?” he said.
“Yeah, I knew that,” she said. Then she laughed and ended the call.
Leandro stared at the dead phone for a second, then dropped focus to the ridge of his erection that would not quit. Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night he would touch her and taste her and rid himself of what was fast becoming an obsessive need to know her inside and out.
But first he had to get through tonight.
Sighing, he went into the bathroom to have a cold shower.
* * *
CLAUDIA HELD STILL as a female technician taped a tiny mike into the valley between her breasts. The lead ran along the edge of her bra around to her back, where it followed the hollow of her lower spine. A slim-lined transmitter was strapped to the small of her back, discreet and hidden beneath her jeans and the T-shirt and jacket she was wearing. Instead of her usual high-heeled boots, she wore a pair of sneakers with her jeans, her one concession to tonight’s mission. If something went wrong, she wanted to be able to hustle.
“Okay, we’re done,” the tech said, stepping back and letting Claudia drop her T-shirt in place. “Let’s just test this thing. Say something for me, Claudia.”
“Hi. Does my ass look fat in this concealed mike?”
The woman smirked. “Levels are great. You’re good to go.”
Claudia smiled her thanks and exited to the main office of the West Hollywood station where Detectives Arnold and Wilkes were waiting with Leandro. She noted that Wilkes had taken advantage of her absence to get in some one-on-one time with Leandro. She was seated opposite him, her long legs propped on the desk, her body semaphoring every go signal known to womankind.
Leandro glanced up as Claudia entered, and the expression on his face switched from polite to smoky in no seconds flat. Claudia smiled a little smugly as her jealousy turned to dust. Ms. Long Legs might have a few inches on her, but right now the only woman Leandro was interested in was her. And tonight, at long last, she was going to lay hands on his hard, hot body. They were going to tangle themselves into delicious knots, explore each other, tease and soothe and satisfy each other.
Just the thought of it sent a wave of desire pulsing through her. Ever since she’d ended the call with Leandro last night she’d been at fever pitch, nervous about the drop, excited about getting him naked, and not sure where one feeling ended and the other began.
Perhaps that was why they were so hot for each other, she speculated as she ran her eyes over his broad chest as he lazed in the chair. This weird combination of sexual attraction and the novelty and stress and challenge of the blackmail threat.
He was wearing a dark gray T-shirt, the fabric outlining his muscular pecs and shoulders and skimming over his taut abdomen. Her gaze traveled to his hips and then his legs, admiring the firm musculature of his thighs and the latent power of his big body.
Grrrrr, as Grace would no doubt say. And tonight he was all hers.
She just had to survive the drop first.
“We ready to go?” Arnold asked.
“I’m officially wired for sound,” Claudia said, even as the tech gave a thumbs-up.
“Let’s roll,” Arnold said, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing his coat.
Claudia met Leandro’s eye as he stood. He looked as though he was biting his tongue for all he was worth, and she smiled at him. She bet he was gagging to offer to swap places with her yet again.
“You’re very quiet,” she said.
“I’m saving myself,” he said shortly. He ate her up with his eyes and she fought the urge to squirm. Thank God the hidden mike wasn’t sensitive enough to hear her heart galloping in her chest.
In case Rat Man was smart enough to watch the bar, she and Leandro arrived together with no sign of their police escort. Claudia was seriously impressed by how invisible they were, until it occurred to her that perhaps they simply weren’t there. Maybe they were sitting in a van somewhere remote, listening in on her mike. Maybe when she went in to meet Rat Man, she’d be all alone, her ass flapping in the breeze…
“Nervous?” Leandro asked as they pulled up outside the bar.
They’d been mostly silent on the drive over, both of them very aware of the mike recording their conversation.
“No,” she lied.
He gave her a wry look. “Sure you’re not, Ace,” he said. He shot a look toward the entrance of the bar, a frown forming between his eyebrows. He looked concerned when he turned back to her.
For a second she wished she’d let him do the drop, as he’d asked. He was right—if Rat Man got nasty, she didn’t have a chance in hell of standing up to him.
But she’d made her bed. It was time to lie in it.
“I’m going in,” she said, u
nclipping her seat belt.
Leandro nodded, then reached into the back seat of his car where he’d stowed the case full of cash. She’d been a bit surprised by his red Honda when he’d picked her up from the office that afternoon. She’d been expecting something sporty and sexy—a penis car. She’d gotten a Honda Insight hybrid, with slightly goofy covered rear wheels and zero sex appeal. He’d correctly interpreted her surprised look and responded with a shrug.
“I have nieces and nephews. I figure they should have a planet to enjoy, too.”
Leandro Mandalor was environmentally sound. She still couldn’t quite reconcile the idea with what she knew of him.
“Don’t worry about the money,” he said as he handed it to her. “It’s insured, if it disappears it gets replaced. You’re the important part of the equation. I’m pretty sure they broke the mold when they made you.”
She forced a smile to cover the fact that her stomach was doing loop-the-loops.
“Come on, think of those rating points you’d score if I disappeared, Leandro. Where’s your competitive spirit?”
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Don’t be a dick,” he said.
She stared at him, her mouth drying as she imagined having this sexy, smart man all to herself in the privacy of a bedroom.
“Okay, here I go,” she said for everyone’s benefit.
Shooting Leandro a small nervous smile, she exited the car and strode toward the entrance to the bar. The moment she pushed through the scarred wooden door, she felt very, very alone. She’d forgotten how dim it was inside, and she blinked her eyes a few times before moving toward the booth she’d occupied on her previous visit. To her consternation, it was full, as were the next two booths.
The only empty booth was the one against the farthest wall—about as far from the front entrance as possible.
Great.
Her knees feeling distinctly wobbly, she slid into the booth, her back to the wall, her eyes glued to the front door. Intellectually she knew the place was under intense observation, that the mike taped to her breast offered her additional protection, even that there might be undercover police in the bar with her. None of it stopped her from bitterly regretting her bravado.
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