“Miss Mimi?” A deep male voice interrupted her internal argument.
She looked up at the hand waiting to help her up. She’d completely forgotten about the man who’d gotten her out the jam. Holding on to her towel, she grasped his hand and he pulled her up with an easy strength.
Blue eyes studied her in amusement. “You all right?”
She stared back and nodded. Cheekbones the envy of all women. A crooked smile. Broad shoulders, same look-alike black tee shirt she’d seen on Angel molding an impressive chest, nicely-fitting blue jeans encasing long legs. What was it with these men working here? Were they all models or something?
“Thanks,” she managed.
The crooked smile appeared again, deepening the slash near his mouth. “Do you want to get your prize now or go clean up first?”
“Collect prize first!” A voice chipped in.
Mari turned. It was Carey Ann. “Where did you go?” she asked.
Her new friend rolled her eyes. “When the bell rang, we all had to get out of the tub. I swear you didn’t read any of the instructions. You were supposed to sit on that hunky guy’s shoulder and have him wade across it, while waving his codpiece at the crowd. You do know you won, right?”
Mari stared at her. “You’re making that up. No way. Besides, my top was hanging off.” And now she didn’t even have one on. Remembering what Angel had been doing to her body, she wrapped the towel around her tighter. Turning to the man beside her, she added, “Umm…Magnus, right? This is my friend, Carey Ann. She’s my partner in this, so half the prize money’s actually hers.”
Magnus’ brows came together. “Partners, huh? So one of you was playing defender? Nice. Very smart, ladies.”
“Thank you. It was my idea,” Carey Ann said, airily. “Now that the other guy had run off on an errand, will you be the one escorting us inside?”
“Escort?” Magnus asked, surprised.
Carey Ann sighed exasperatedly. “Does no one read the leaflet handed out at the gate? It said, the Queen of the Salad Bowl gets eight hundred dollars and for her generous participation, she can bring a friend with her to our private fundraiser party and be escorted by our special guest. In case there’s any confusion,” she said, with an impish grin, “I’m the friend Mimi’s bringing and the hunky cabana boy is her escort.”
Magnus gave them a measured look, then started chuckling. “Cabana boy.” He shook his head. “Man, Angel’s never going to live this down.”
“Is his name really Angel?” Mari asked curiously. It was nuts but she wanted to get to know him better.
Magnus nodded, “Yup. Angel Marcello. His father’s an old biker friend of Mr. Washington’s and that’s why he got the honor to be the Cabana Boy today. I’m sure both his father and Mr. Washington had a good laugh about it.” He nodded toward the stage area. “Come on, let’s go get your prize and I’ll make sure you two get the okay to go to that party inside. You sure you don’t want to hang out here with me instead?”
His smile was easy but his blue eyes were assessing. Mari had the feeling he was doing more than flirting with them. Angel had taken off after Magnus had given an order. Did that mean Angel was part of security?
“Of course we’ll be in and out,” she told him, thinking of her bag hidden away as they walked. “But right now? I’m more interested in a shower.”
“Yeah,” Carey Ann agreed. “There is a line at the small changing facility they set up but I can think of at least two women in there who aren’t happy with our tackles.”
Magnus’ grin widened. “Let me guess. About a foot taller than both of you, blonde, with murderous looks in their eyes because Carey Ann clothes-lined one of them and you, Mimi, nearly decapitated the other one with a back flip?
“Sounds like them,” quipped Carey Ann.
“It’s not like they didn’t try to drown me out there,” Mari pointed out. “But yeah, not wanting another fight with them.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Magnus said. They’d reached the announcer’s table near the stage. “Here you are, Gavin. I’ll take care of them as soon as they signed off on the prize, etcetera. Not sure what you need.”
“Just a signature and a picture with the…umm…codpiece. Number Nine, you sure have made the charity a lot of money today. Those bets were flowing all through your match with Number Ten. We should have you for every event, baby! It’d be a great job for you. What do you do now?”
Mari wanted to say something sarcastic. Like, yeah, shaking her booty in a bikini for charity sounded like a lovely job description. Or, perhaps she could make them think she was a crazy airhead by telling the truth.
“Thank you, but I already have a job. I collect cute bracelets and shiny stamps.” Called amulets and seals, she added silently. “It’s a fun business.”
“Right,” Gavin said, clearly thinking she was wasting a good opportunity for a better career. “Here you go. The cash’s in there. Now hold up this big placard and wave that codpiece so I can take a publicity photo.”
After squiggling her fake name, Mari took the envelope. Then, trying not to make a face, she stood next to the big cardboard sign proclaiming her as Queen of the Salad Bowl. She dangled the big codpiece in her hand. Her father was so going to owe her for this.
“Damn it, what’s-his-name—Angel,” Gavin said, snapping his fingers. “We need him here for the picture, Magic. Get him.”
Mari raised her eyebrows. “Magic? I thought your name is Magnus?”
However, Magnus was listening to his headset. “Angel is busy,” he murmured. “Just take the photo, Gavin. We’ll get another later. Hey, girls, I’ve to go check on some things. Let’s get you inside. You can clean up in there too, okay?”
“But our clothes…” Mari was beginning to wonder whether the day would ever go the way she’d planned. How was she going to get to her bag?
“You can use some of our tee shirts. Once the security has cleared you inside, you can come back out.”
“Oh, okay,” Mari said. Inside was where she wanted to be, anyway, so this was her first opportunity to case the place.
Fifteen minutes later, they were in the mansion, passing many grins and thumbs-up on the way.
“You girls can go in these two rooms next to each other. Are you going to be all right for now? Just head back out this way when you’re finished and someone sitting out there will help you find your way.”
“Thanks, you’re a peach,” Carey Ann said, then turning to Mari, she added, “Hey, I’ve to run out and meet with a friend to let him know where I am. He has my cell phone and I need it. It’s so crazy out there so let’s plan on meeting up by the grand staircase we saw when we came in.”
Mari nodded. “Sure, Carey Ann.” She turned and smiled at their guide, who looked a bit distracted, listening to his headset and talking to them at the same time, and added, “Thanks for everything, Magnus. You look busy so please don’t let us keep you from your job. Hopefully those bikers we heard aren’t causing too much trouble for Angel. We’ll be all right now that we have this.”
She held up her hand with the thick bracelet that would give them access to the private party.
“Not a prob and I wouldn’t worry about Angel. I think he’s taking care of business pretty quickly so he could hurry back to you.”
Mari could feel her face warming again. Why did she bring that man’s name up? She couldn’t seem to stop wondering where he was when she should be thinking of more important things.
“Got to go,” Magnus continued, “See you girls. There are clean tee shirts on the beds already.”
Carey Ann gave her a thumbs-up and slid inside her room. Mari stepped into hers.
Mari sniffed at herself. She stunk of salad juice. She looked around the spacious area. Wow, if this was the size of the guest room, she could only imagine what the main bedroom looked like. Her bare feet sank into the dark luxurious carpet. Immediately, she thought of her shoes. She was going to need them, too.
She walked past the bed, which had several new shirts wrapped in plastic on it, and looked out the window. It gave a view of the beautifully manicured garden in the back of the house.
After a minute, she went back to the door and peeked out. She’d better scope out this area quickly in case she bumped into Carey Ann and got side-tracked about that stupid party.
Magnus or Magic or whatever-he-was-called had led them to a downstairs wing on the right, using a side door. Her father had told her the items were in the upstairs study. There were two staircases—the main one they’d just passed near the entrance and another from near the kitchen. He’d said there was a guest wing, a series of rooms for regular guests, situated by the kitchen. These were probably it.
She stepped out into the corridor. There were so many doors! Cutter Washington must love entertaining and having guests stay over. The tile floor felt cold under her feet. She had to get back into the room before Carey Ann got out of the shower. Quickly, she counted the doors, took note of the archway at the end of the corridor. On the other end, from where they’d entered, was a window and exit into the garden she’d seen just now.
Satisfied, she returned to the room. Dropping the towel on a nearby chair, she walked topless toward the bathroom, tugging at and loosening the ties knotting the sides of her bikini bottom. Noticing a door next to it ajar slightly, she could hear Carey Ann moving around in the other room.
An idea floated into her head. Hmm. She should get Carey Ann’s phone number. That way, they didn’t have to meet at the stairs. She could pick her things up, come back in here with the pretext of changing into her own clothes, and then find that back stairway. She pushed the door open and walked through.
“Hey,” she called, “what’s your phone num—? Oh!”
There was a man in Carey Ann’s room, leaning against a dresser and pulling off his pants. The man looked up with a frown.
Mari swallowed. Too late, she realized Carey Ann’s room was the other direction.
She was given a full-frontal view of a very naked Angel. A smile curved those sexy lips when he recognized her.
“I was just thinking about you. Let’s finish our conversation,” he said, kicking his pants aside.
Chapter Three
‡
Overloading A chess piece that has too many things to do. One is forced to leave its post and moved from the planned position.
Angel’s SEAL team had a saying: “Opportunity does not knock. Opportunity presents itself when you knock down the door.”
The sight of Mimi entering his room with those beautiful bare breasts had him changing his team motto slightly. When opportunity presenting itself topless, be prepared to be knocked down. Then get up and go get the woman.
This moment would forever remain his favorite surprise. He’d just been thinking about the woman, wondering where she was and whether he could find her in the next three hours before his shift started again. He’d figured, a quick bath, a few minutes to see if they’d found anything else about those Estonian bikers, a short update with Magic and perhaps quiz him about the lady’s whereabouts, and he’d still have an hour to find her.
Then what? He had no idea. He just understood instinctively that he needed to be with her before she disappeared.
And then he looked up and there she was, walking into his dreams like a modern day Venus. Topless and luscious. All opportunity. All his.
No red-blooded man could resist that sight.
No SEAL in his right mind would let this opportunity be wasted.
In one quick stride, he was right in front of her, placing his hands around those feminine curves. He bent his head, looked into startled eyes and went in for that first taste of those lips that had called his name since he first laid eyes on her.
Her mouth opened instantly and he delved in. His desire for her was so strong, for the first time in his life, there was an urgency that was beyond the usual lust. He kissed her deeply and she responded just as urgently, just as needily.
He slipped his hands inside her bikini bottom. She gave a throaty groan and her hands came up to push at him. Her lips broke free.
“Wait,” she said, her voice husky. “I…I think I walked into the wrong room.”
“Sweetheart, this is the right room,” he told her. He moved her hand down his chest, all the way down. “Feel how right it is.”
She looked down for a long moment, her hand grasping his raging erection. “Oh,” was all she said.
Angel tried to be patient. The lady must be trying to make up her mind. After all, they had just met. He realized people outside his old circle of friends didn’t do things as quickly as they’d like. They weighed and waited, waited and weighed, thinking things over, which were all very well and good, except when one’s life hung in the balance and a moment’s hesitation could mean death. All hesitation had been squeezed out of him during SEAL training. In its place was just instinct and self-confidence. Right now, instinct told him to go all out and have this woman under him and make her his in the most primitive way possible—but this was the outside world. They frowned on caveman tactics.
At least she wasn’t letting go of it and running off, so that must mean she didn’t mind seeing him naked. He gently undulated against her, enjoying the softness of her touch.
“I’m off for a couple of hours,” he said, his voice strained. “Say yes and I’m all yours for two hours.”
“Yes,” she replied.
Triumphantly, Angel kicked the connecting door shut and lifted Mari into his arms.
“I lied,” he told her, as he headed for the bathroom. “I’m going to make you mine.”
*
Mari’s father was the quintessential Indiana Jones—handsome and eccentric—an arts professor most of the year, an irresistible and crazy treasure hunter in the summer and on winter breaks. He was single, having brought up Mari all by himself. Being single and a tiny bit non-conformist, he had taken her along on all his action-packed, non-child-proofed and not-very-safe adventures. He totally immersed her in the shady world of underground sellers, explorers, document and map thieves, smugglers, and good old-fashion anthropology students. Needless to say, she’d seen and done many things most people her age had never experienced.
Once, in a dark cavern in Italy, her father and she had witnessed the exchange of a very important sculpture between two parties. It’d belonged to a family whose ancestry traced back, according to them, to very early Roman times, and this statue had been stolen from them over half a century ago. Her father had been part of the team that had spent months recovering it and then negotiating for its return. It was all done under the table, with characters who lived at the edge of lawlessness, the kind of thing of which a child her age wouldn’t have any concept, but there she had been, right next to her father, watching the whole dangerous event unfold.
Even the negotiator, a bearded man with a scary-looking scar across his face, had shaken his head at the sight of Mari. She’d waved at him with the nonchalance of having gone through this before and had brazenly recited all the details of authenticity of the recovered statue to a bemused interpreter to give to the family. Her father had proudly looked on, nodding only when she glanced up at him for approval.
The sculpture had been beautifully hewn from marble, a life-size statue of Mars, the ancient Roman god of war, in mid-stride—muscular, man in his prime, moving majestically toward his object of desire. Every line of muscle was lovingly carved, showing delineation and shadow, giving the impression of controlled movement and power to a chunk of lifeless stone. Mars frozen during the moment of claiming victory. Looking at it, Mari had coveted that statue for herself and told her father, that was what she wanted for her birthday. Her father had indulgently smiled and replied she might find one for herself one day.
Today wasn’t her birthday.
But it ought to be.
There was a naked god coming at her, eyes piercing and intent like that statue she’d wanted, body taut with deman
d, and his desire for her standing up very clearly for all to see. Her very own Mars. Who was she to say no?
And when he kissed her, she was lost. Molten lava-hot desire poured from his mouth into her veins, flowing straight down to that place that craved a partner in her life. It seemed she’d traveled and sought all her life for this.
This was no marble sculpture, though. This was a real-live man. His flesh was warm, perfectly-hewn musculature moving under sleek skin, responding to her touch—hard, yet supple, infinitely male.
He covered her hand and moved it down to his penis. Instinctively, she encircled the thick expanse.
“Feel how right it is,” he said.
“Oh,” was all she could manage.
She discovered that, sometimes, things that seemed so important before could become less so in a space of a few seconds. Going after a piece of treasure for her father had always been important to her. The next find had been a daily goal. The next thrill was always the supreme maxim.
All those important beliefs she held had been melted by the hot possessive kiss of a stranger. In a daze, she thought the feeling similar to finding a treasure, except this was her treasure, nothing to do with her father. She wanted this man, Angel, for her own.
The man carrying her away smiled down at her. “I’m going to make you mine,” he declared, with the determination of a man on a mission.
Mari sighed. Her own walking, talking, breathing Mars come to life, wanting to conquer her. How could she say no to that?
Surely there would be time for other less important missions later.
She barely paid attention to the spacious bathroom, taking mild interest in the fact the shower area was big enough for at least two occupants, which was a good thing because Angel’s height and breadth took up quite a bit of space.
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