by Alexia Adams
Her hand snaked into his hair and her lips pressed against his temple. “The door’s open a crack. Someone’s watching, but they haven’t come in.”
It took a second for her words to make sense to him, especially when her lips trailed across his cheek and rested against his own. Her tongue swept over his bottom lip, and the flood of passion broke through the levy of his restraint. He plundered her mouth while his fingers slid beneath the lace of her bra to extract the fake rubies that stopped him from caressing her nipples. He tossed them onto the table beside her and resumed his exploration.
Kat wrenched her mouth from his with a low moan. “You lose,” she said, her voice breathy, sending even more heat to his groin. Damn it, jeans were worse than suit trousers. “You forgot to use your tongue. My turn now.”
She pushed lightly against his chest, and he removed the blindfold. And blinked. It could be the sudden light, or the most erotic sight he’d ever seen, but his brain refused to believe what his eyes were seeing. Kat leaned back, her arms braced behind her on the workbench. Her skin flushed with desire. She wore a black bra with two small lace triangles over her areolas and a lace band underneath. The whole thing was held together with small black strings. Matching panties and a suspender belt that held up sheer stockings completed the outfit. Except for the sexy shoes—black with the same gold zipper that had been on her dress. From the corner of his eye he could see her clothes draped over her laptop.
“I didn’t finish the game,” he said.
“Too bad, you knew the rules. You can locate with your hands but you have to remove the gems with your tongue. What kind of miner are you, anyway? My turn. You hide three stones, and I’ll wear the blindfold.”
The door pushed open, finally, and Harry entered, his eyes never leaving Kat, who was still perched on the bench.
“I seem to be interrupting something.”
Wolfe quickly unbuttoned his shirt and handed it to Kat. They needed to keep Harry distracted from seeing Kat’s laptop, but that didn’t mean he could have a free peep show.
“What do you want, Harry?” He didn’t need to feign annoyance.
Kat had pulled on his shirt, somehow managing to look even sexier. Harry had to clear his throat before he could speak. “The network is down. I tried to access a marketing report from home but couldn’t. And email doesn’t work, either. I came to see if I could fix the problem. I saw from the security panel that someone was in here and thought I’d better check to make sure we weren’t being robbed.”
The only thing Wolfe was being robbed of at the moment was his sanity.
“Why don’t you two check the computer equipment while I get dressed,” Kat said.
Not even in the same galaxy of what he wanted to do.
“No one except Wolfe is allowed alone in the production room,” Harry said.
Kat’s eyes widened slightly when he glanced at her. She obviously needed time to restart the servers before Harry got to them.
“I’ll make an exception this time. Besides, I’ll frisk her thoroughly to make sure she hasn’t stolen anything,” Wolfe said.
“I bet you will,” Harry replied under his breath.
Wolfe moved between his chief operating officer and his cyber security expert, forcing the other man’s eyes off the semi-naked woman who had just blown half of Wolfe’s internal circuits. “Come on. Let’s get the computers back online so we can both get back to work. As for marketing, last night I had a brilliant idea for a new advertising campaign. Women wearing sexy lingerie and our jewels.”
“Isn’t that a bit tacky? Our brand has always been upmarket,” Harry replied.
“It won’t be tacky if done right. Trust me.” He pushed Harry out the door and turned back to Kat. “I’ll be back in ten minutes, darling,” he said.
She nodded, then pulled off his shirt and tossed it to him. “You’ll need this.”
What he needed was for Harry to disappear, so he could finish what Kat had started.
…
As soon as the men left, Kat pulled her dress back on and restarted the servers with her new monitoring software installed. The email server would take the longest to reboot. She just prayed Wolfe could distract Harry for the ten minutes he’d said.
As she watched the status bar go from red to orange to green, she tried to calm her racing heart. That make-out session with Wolfe had been intense. If Harry hadn’t been on the other side of the door, she’d be fulfilling Margaret-Mary’s request about now. But then if Harry hadn’t been there, they wouldn’t have started. Yeah, right. They were too explosive together to keep this bottled up much longer.
Wolfe had awakened a longing she’d not experienced before, and she wouldn’t be satisfied until…until what? Until he broke her heart? Because as intense as the physical attraction, she craved a deeper emotional connection. Bozhe moi, she’d even told him about living on the streets. No way would he want to do more than bang her now. That he’d only want a temporary fling should comfort her. At least she wouldn’t have to lie about not wanting to get married or have kids. Anyway, she had her sister to find, and possibly rescue, and a nest egg to build up, so she never had to worry about living rough again. And she had to be ready to ditch Kat Smith and become someone else if necessary. No way could she do that with a man attached to her. Especially a man like Wolfe, who was determined to be famous. The ache in her chest intensified.
She took a moment to survey the room. Without Wolfe in it, it seemed larger. Small drawers covered one wall marked with labels like sapphires, emeralds, diamonds, rubies, and size ranges. Five tables held Bunsen burners, mats, and a variety of tools, all set with precision on a small black cloth. Then she noticed the camera. Set above the door, it would have caught everything she’d done since she entered.
Wolfe’s phone pinged with the same noise it had earlier, alerting her to his imminent return. In case he still had Harry with him, she put her laptop back in her bag and pretended to be reading something on her phone. Innocent. Only the dampness between her thighs evidence of their earlier activities. That, and a recording somewhere.
The door opened and Wolfe’s head appeared. “All okay?” he asked, striding into the room.
“Yeah, got it all up and running in time, but I think we may have a problem.” She pointed to the camera.
“Shit. I forgot about that. Although, it would finally make for some interesting viewing. I have it only in the event that gems go missing. There’s a couple million dollars in inventory in there.” He nodded toward the wall of mini drawers.
“Really?” She’d been so close to a fortune in precious stones. Not that she’d help herself.
The toes of his shoes butted against hers. His gaze caressed her face, and the heat of his body heightened the smell of his cologne. He’d done up a few of the buttons on his white shirt but hadn’t tucked it in, probably because something else had been taking up all the room earlier. A smattering of dark hair poked out from his open collar.
“You’ve been alone for ten minutes with all these jewels. You could have secreted a fortune away since I’ve been gone.”
“Well, maybe you’d better check your video, then.” She picked up her gloves from beside her on the desk, but Wolfe’s strong hand circled her wrist before she could pull them on.
“You started something.”
“It was to distract Harry. Just like the kiss in your office that first day.”
He took the gloves from her limp fingers then threaded both his hands into her hair. She licked her lips, and his gaze fixated on the movement.
“You keep telling yourself that, darling. This may have started as a game, but it’s become much more. And neither of us are going to sleep until we get this sorted.”
His lips caressed hers, but even though she opened her mouth, he didn’t sweep inside. Instead he kissed his way over to her ear, tugging gently on her lobe. His tongue traced the outside, and she couldn’t hold back her moan. One of her hands buried in his hair, fingering the silky stran
ds and holding him to her. The other had sneaked under his shirt to trace the contours of his back muscles.
“We’re still on camera,” she said as he nipped down her neck and across her collarbone. The zipper on her dress slid down to her navel.
He nuzzled under her jaw, and the sigh he released sent hot air straight down her cleavage. “And I have work to do. Meet me in my flat for dinner at seven.”
“Is that an invite or a command?” She zipped her dress up as Wolfe stepped back.
“Whatever it takes to get you there.”
Tilting her head to one side, she pulled on her gloves. “Maybe if you got down on your knees.”
The only way she could describe his smile was wolfish. “I guarantee you that at some point in the night I’ll be on my knees, but I won’t be the one begging.”
A bead of sweat slid down her spine and a series of Russian expletives percolated through her brain. Wanting him was one thing. Falling in love with him, out of the question.
She may just have coded a program that could destroy her.
Chapter Seven
Kat swirled the red wine in her glass as she admired the view from Wolfe’s apartment. The sun was setting, lending a golden hue to the glass buildings of Docklands. The scene of seduction was well set. Candles fluttered as she walked by, the haunting lyrics of the Phantom of the Opera the perfect backdrop to the sound of sizzling steaks being grilled by Wolfe. The meat-laden meal was just what she wanted. Being refined was tiring, requiring constant thought about what to say and do. With little left to hide from Wolfe, she could just be herself. Well, as herself as she could possibly be and still maintain her disguise.
After leaving his offices that afternoon, she’d searched the Russian land registry database again for any property owned or rented by her sister, and come up blank. Where would her sister go? The St. Petersburg apartment had been depressing, so it was unlikely she’d return there. The only place that held any happy memories was the dacha they’d visited as a family. It had belonged to a neighbor who had let them use it one summer when she’d been too ill to travel. The break from the city, the noise, and pollution had been like a trip to heaven for thirteen-year-old Kat, and her last fond memory of family life.
Mother had decided by then that Kat would never be a dancer. So she’d stopped insisting that Kat wear the wrapping to try and stunt the growth of her breasts. Her father had stayed sober for the whole two weeks, and Natalya had been released from ten-hours-a-day practices to join Kat in a little fishing, berry picking, and mushroom hunting. They’d been happy. That’s where Kat would have gone. Did her sister remember?
Nothing else could be done remotely. She had to travel to Russia next week. If she could piggyback on Wolfe’s trip, she could go as his companion. If she went alone, she was much more likely to be scrutinized, questioned about the purpose of her visit. If they discovered she was the infamous hacker Pantera, they’d never let her leave. Her skill set was something the Russian government or even organized crime loved to exploit. However, as the bimbo girlfriend of a notorious playboy billionaire, they probably wouldn’t pay any attention to her. She prayed that her identity would withstand scrutiny when she applied for a visa, and she could maintain her American accent. She’d already flubbed when talking to the set dresser at the theater.
Kat ran a damp palm down her dress. She’d thought of changing into something more casual to match the jeans and shirt Wolfe wore. Although on him, it was as sexy as his suit. She’d always admired a man in great tailoring, but denim defined his assets better, especially when he bent over to get something out of the bottom drawer.
Her plan to dress casual had changed, however, when she’d received a text from him this afternoon that he had unfinished business with what she’d had on earlier.
She wandered back into the kitchen. “Are you sure I can’t help?”
“No, I’ve got it.” He plated two large steaks, a selection of mushrooms, and the biggest baked potatoes she’d ever seen.
Wolfe didn’t rush the meal. They ate at his dining table, with London laid out before them.
“I didn’t know you could cook.”
“I don’t often, and you’re the first woman I’ve cooked for in years, so that’s why none of my previous girlfriends have raved about my culinary skills on their social media accounts.”
“Who taught you? Didn’t that big house where you grew up have staff?”
“It did. After I left school, I traveled a lot and I had to fend for myself. I learned on the road.”
“Visiting mining operations? That must have been a real eye-opener, seeing how the other ninety-eight percent lived.”
“I may have been born into a wealthy family, but that doesn’t mean I was ignorant. It’s not all whiskey and cigars at the top, you know.”
She took a sip of her wine. How far should she go? She already liked him, if she knew more about what made him tick, she could be in danger of falling for him. But had any woman ever taken the time to get to know the real Remington Wolfe? She wanted at least to be different from all those who came before. And after. “Tell me about it.”
“About what?”
“Growing up. You know my story.” Well, bits of it anyway. “You should reciprocate.”
“Why? Besides, I thought you knew all about my past.” He stabbed his steak with enough force to break a lesser-made plate.
“I know when you were born and where. I know you went to boarding school at the age of five and that your parents died in an avalanche in Austria six days shy of your seventeenth birthday. You’ve been on your own since then, but none of that tells me about your hopes and dreams, fears and disappointments.”
“How exactly will this information help you clear the bad code from my computers?”
She put her knife and fork down, ready to push away from the table. “It won’t. If you want me to be your cyber security expert, then that’s fine. But if you want any other sort of relationship between us, I need to know more.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw, and he took so long to answer she took her napkin off her lap and placed it on the table next to her wineglass.
“Less than twenty-four hours after I was born, my mother thrust me into the arms of a Filipino nanny who had only been in the country for two days. Mother then went off to a spa for a month to recover. My father celebrated my birth by partying in the south of France for six weeks. My parents were shadows in my early life, returning home only occasionally between parties for photo ops with the heir. I thought Louisa, the nanny, was my mother until I turned five, and I was wrenched from her arms and sent off to boarding school. After that I saw my parents even less. When they died, it didn’t bother me in the slightest. They’d never been anything other than names on a document to me.”
She put her hand on his on the table, wanting to share the inner peace that only he made her feel. His family had been even colder than her own. At least she had a few happy memories. “How did you get into jewelry design?”
He seemed to relax a bit now that the discussion had veered from his parents to his career. “The Wolfes had been collecting gemstones for centuries, one ancestor owned several mines in Africa. They fascinated me, so I went to the sources. I visited various countries and learned about precious stones from the ground up. Then I began resetting the jewels in my family’s pieces. I enjoyed it so much I formed my own company and the rest, as they say, is history.”
She drained her wineglass. “And the future? Where is Remington Wolfe in ten years?”
“He’s the best jewelry designer the world has seen in centuries. Royalty and the world’s elite commission him to produce pieces that will be admired well after he’s turned to dust.”
The reminder of his ambition was a slap to her heart. So much for keeping that organ out of the game. She pushed away from the table and stood. “And personally? Does he have a wife and children to come home to after a long day dealing with people who have more money than many countrie
s?”
“No. No family.” Wolfe stood, too. His hand grabbed her wrist before she could move away. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy female companionship when the opportunity presents itself.”
“I’m not sure I want to be an opportunity.” With his fingers caressing her arm, she couldn’t exactly say at this moment what she wanted to be.
His hand slid into her hair, the other rested on her waist as he moved closer to her. “How about a delightful interlude?” The words were whispered against her ear just before he traced the contours of her lobe with his tongue.
Bozhe moi, the man was good.
“I’ve never been called delightful before.”
“You are. And sexy, intelligent, and damn annoying.” The hand at her waist slid upward until it connected with the zipper tab between her breasts. He eased one finger inside her bra and caressed her already hard nipple. There was no halting the passion flowing through her veins.
Her voice was already breathless when she asked, “What time is it, Mr. Wolfe?”
“Dessert time.”
…
Wolfe pushed the zipper on her dress down until he encountered the lace to her panties. “I have chocolate-dipped strawberries and champagne in the fridge. But first I’m going to sample your sweetness.”
“And if I say no?”
Disappointment flooded through him until her fingers rubbed against his chest as she undid the buttons of his shirt.
“Then I step away. I’d never force a woman. But my death will be on your conscience. If I’m not inside you within the next half hour, I may not make it.”
The sigh she released went straight down his shirt. “I won’t be responsible for the death of the greatest jewelry designer the world has ever known. Take me to bed, Wolfe.”
He slid the fabric from her shoulders and the dress fell to the floor. Gone was the sexy black lingerie she’d had on earlier, replaced by a burgundy set that was no less enticing. “We’re not going to make it to the bedroom until much, much later.” They may not make it out of the dining room. Had it been foresight or desperation that’d had him slipping a condom into his pocket earlier?