by Lucy Monroe
"Okay, but it's true," she couldn't help adding.
His eyes pinned her with intense frustration, the soft light from the lamp she had left on earlier casting his face in disturbing shadows.
"Why, damn it?" he demanded.
She stared at him, unable to believe that he could be so dense. "You tried to use me. Of course I'm not going to have much faith in you. You admitted it, for goodness' sake. It's no use trying to deny it now that you've decided you want something else from me. Namely, my body."
"I'm not ready to give up on this attraction between us," he bit out.
My, my, my, the man was angry, but he had no one to blame but himself.
He could have asked her out because he liked her, instead of trying to pump information out of her. "I'm sure you'll easily get over whatever small attraction you feel for me."
His glare would have melted kryptonite and she was just a mere woman.
"There's nothing small about the way I respond to you or the way you respond to me, for that matter. Do you think I didn't notice the way your nipples stood up and saluted at the restaurant just because I was looking at you? I wanted to touch them so badly, it was all I could do to let you finish your dinner. And I let you order dessert," he added, as if expecting a medal for that forbearance.
When she didn't say anything, he looked at her fiercely. "And don't tell me that you make a habit of trying to undress your dates on your front porch."
Heat stole into her cheeks, but she tried to brazen it out, keeping her eyes averted from the evidence of an open shirt and exposed male flesh. "I did not try to undress you."
"Really? Then I guess it was somebody else who did this to my shirt."
Her baser nature got the better of her and she looked where he was pointing. The dark raw silk outlined the hard planes of his chest and the sexy black hair sprinkled across his golden skin.
"Okay, so I got a little carried away."
His smile could only be described as feral. "If this is a little carried away, I can't wait to experience a lot carried away with you, sweetheart."
If she'd unbuttoned one more button she'd be able to see the V of hair disappearing into the top of his slacks. Her mind pretended that she had and insisted on casting up the sexy image for her to mentally drool over.
Her own weakness was responsible for her attention moving south, and she felt her whole body tighten with desire. He was still hard, the ridge of a very large penis pressing against the front placket of his pants. She stared, absolutely fascinated by this evidence of his desire.
"Isabel, if you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to do something about it."
Heat radiated from her cheeks like a woodstove burning wrapping paper, and she turned her head away so fast she just about gave herself a whiplash. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize, honey. I like having you look at me, but I don't think you're ready for the consequences."
"I never will be," she mumbled, forcing herself to look him in the eye.
His expression said he didn't believe her. "We'll see."
He turned and walked to the small cabinet she used to store her music collection. He opened the door, gave the cabinet's contents a cursory glance, and flipped the door shut again. He headed toward the large entertainment center against the wall opposite the couch.
She didn't know if anger or sexual frustration was responsible for the ferocity of his movements. Either way, she felt as if a caged beast was on the prowl in her living room. He opened a door and shut it again with barely controlled savagery.
"What are you looking for?"
He opened another door on the entertainment center. "The drink you offered me earlier."
In his present mood, there would be no point in refusing. Besides, she could use a glass of wine herself. She had a bottle in the fridge that she had intended to serve him before they left for dinner.
"Bottom right cabinet. The glasses are in the dining room." She stood. "Do you want ice?"
He pulled out the bottle of twelve-year-old scotch she kept for the rare visits from her father. "No."
"Fine. I'll be right back."
She poured her wine and returned to the living room with a rock glass for Alex. He poured himself two fingers of the smoky liquid while she went back to her seat, kicking off her pumps and tucking her feet under her in the oversized chair. She took a sip of wine and watched Alex.
He drank about half of his scotch before turning to face her. "I want to see you again."
"I'm not going to tell you my client's name."
He made a savage movement with his hand. "I know that."
"I thought I made it clear before, but you still tried to use me." She couldn't mask the hurt she still felt.
He didn't deny it. "I made a mistake. I didn't take your feelings into consideration."
She supposed for a man like Alex that was as close to an apology as she was going to get. She wasn't sure it was enough.
He put down his unfinished drink. "I'll call you tomorrow."
"Is there any point in my telling you not to bother?"
"No." He looked at her until she met his gaze. "Don't fight me on this, Isabel. The time for that is over."
Should she remind him they had met only yesterday? Perhaps he felt the same primal knowing that she did—an intimacy not reliant on length of time in a relationship.
It frightened the life out of her. "I'm not trying to fight you, Alex. I'm trying to protect myself."
"I'll protect you."
Did he have any idea how arrogant he sounded? Probably not. She had a feeling that Alex was used to people taking his statements as gospel.
Contrary to her actions on the porch, she was not a complete idiot. "I will protect myself."
He shrugged and turned to leave. She got up to follow him and lock the door. The last thing she wanted tonight was another lecture on safety.
He stopped on the threshold. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."
He leaned down and touched her lips briefly with his. It was quick and unexpected. She didn't even have time to think about stepping away, much less doing so.
Then he was gone.
* * *
The next morning, Isabel's mood could only be described as cranky. She'd spent most of the night alternating between reliving Alex's kiss and reminding herself that any sane woman would refuse to see him again. The result was that she woke up tired and disoriented. The feeling had persisted through a hot shower and a double-shot tall latte from the drive-through espresso shop on her way to work.
How could she be so attracted to a man she didn't trust? She found the answer as troubling as the question.
On some level, she did trust Alex Trahern.
He had tried to use her, but he had not lied to her about it when she asked. That thought had tormented her throughout the night. Was she foolish enough to pursue a relationship knowing what she did about him?
The converse ate at her. Would she be an idiot to throw away what she had discovered in his arms last night? If a simple kiss could affect her so strongly, what would it be like to make love? A lot better than merely pleasant, certainly.
He wanted to see her again. He'd made that clear in his own arrogant fashion.
Could she believe him that it was simply for her own sake, not because he wanted to know the name of her client? She'd made the mistake yesterday of assuming that to be the case. Her own naïveté astonished her. She should have realized that a man like Alex, a dark and powerful man, would prefer the sleek and sophisticated type—not an optimistic dreamer like her. The kind of passion she'd experienced with him last night was probably run-of-the-mill for Alex.
It humiliated her to think of how easily she had been duped, how much she even now wanted to believe that he had been as affected by her as she had been by him.
"What's that look for? Don't tell me that Tall, Dark, and Dangerous didn't pass muster last night. I gotta tell ya, girlfriend, if that's the case, maybe you should let me have
a look at your list." Bettina leaned her hip against Isabel's desk, taking no pains to conceal the blatant curiosity burning in her dark eyes.
Isabel gave her friend's empty hands an accusing glare. "The least you could have done if you wanted to grill me is to bring me sustenance."
"We interrogators know our stuff. If I made the mistake of bringing you coffee, the caffeine might give you the edge you need to avoid my carefully worded questions. You'll notice I didn't sit down, either. This is my intimidating, on-the-edge-of-your-desk stance." Bettina grinned. "Is it working? You ready to spill your guts yet?"
"I spent yesterday evening with Alex. I'm immune to your amateurish techniques."
Bettina grimaced. "That bad, huh? I was looking forward to some juicy girl-talk this morning."
Bettina radiated disappointment and Isabel felt like laughing, albeit somewhat bitterly.
If only her friend knew.
"I guess that was just wishful thinking, anyway. It's not like you'd let him get physical on the first date, after all." Bettina slid off the desk and sat in the chair in front of it. "You are the woman who made your last boyfriend wait until the third date before you lip-locked with him."
Isabel could feel the skin of her face heat. With any luck, the blush wouldn't be obvious to Bettina. From the look in her friend's black eyes, Isabel could tell that her luck had gone south with her mood that morning.
Bettina's eyes widened and so did her grin. "Don't tell me he kissed you?"
Isabel glared.
Bettina slapped her thigh and hooted in victory. "Even better, you let him."
Isabel wanted to deny the truth but knew she couldn't Bettina would know the second the words were out of her mouth. Darn it, anyway.
"Yes. He kissed me. Yes. I let him. It won't happen again. End of story."
"He didn't pass the test? Come on, now." Bettina crossed her long legs, the short neon-green leather skirt she wore hiking up her thigh. "Spill to Aunt Betty. I want every last detail."
It wouldn't do any good to try hedging. Aunt Betty could give a terrier with a bone a run for his money when she was on the scent of girl-talk.
"He did pass the test, sort of. I think I discovered a new psychological phenomenon."
Bettina's pencil-thin black brows rose.
"I couldn't decide last night if Alex is courteous or an inconsiderate toad."
Leaning forward in her chair, Bettina said, "Now this is getting interesting. Was the toad part when he kissed you?"
"No. That was the Isabel has lost her mind part. The toad part was when he told me—not once but twice—that my dress was inappropriate for the elements. The other toad part was when he lectured me about living in an unsecured building. The final, culminating, not-to-be-denied, purely toad part was when he admitted that he only asked me out so that he could find out the name of the client that wanted to hire Marcus Danvers."
The sound of distress that emanated from her friend so matched Isabel's own feelings that she said, "Exactly."
Bettina got up and came around Isabel's desk to hug her. "Aw, girlfriend, men can be such jerks."
Isabel nodded as she accepted the quick hug.
Her friend straightened and after a full minute of silence spent scrutinizing her, she finally asked, "Did you let him kiss you before or after the final toad part?"
Isabel sighed and frowned in consternation. "After. Which means I'm a complete idiot. Not that he asked my permission. He just did it," she added in her own defense.
"Was it good?"
"I came close to undressing him on my front porch."
Bettina gave out a long, low whistle, going back to her chair and sitting down. She didn't say anything. She just sat there and stared at Isabel. As interrogating techniques went, it was pretty effective.
"What?" Isabel demanded after several seconds of silence.
"Tell me something."
Isabel sighed. "What do you want to know?"
"How many of your requirements did he meet before you found out that he had an ulterior motive in asking you out?"
"He passed the whole first level and some of the second, if you count schizophrenic courtesy," Isabel grudgingly admitted.
Bettina's head slowly bobbed up and down and she brought her fingers together steeple fashion, considering Isabel with a look that would have done a psychologist proud. "I see."
"I'm glad somebody does," muttered Isabel. "What exactly is it that you do see?"
"You're going out with him again, aren't you?"
Isabel felt like pulling her hair out. "I don't know. I'd be a fool if I did, knowing he's probably trying to use me."
She wanted Bettina to deny the plain truth that Isabel would be one egg shy of a soufflé to go out with Alex again. She wanted her gutsy friend to talk her into taking the risk.
"He kissed you. From your description, it was a pretty hot kiss," Bettina mused. "Information isn't all that he wants."
Feeling goaded, Isabel replied sarcastically, "No. I suppose he'd take some nice, casual sex to go along with it."
"I promise you, sex between us isn't going to be nice and I'm not a casual kind of guy, Isabel."
Alex stood framed in Isabel's open doorway, wearing his customary dark attire and a brooding expression.
Isabel lost the battle against the headache that had been flirting at the edges of her consciousness all morning.
"Hello, Alex. You said you'd call."
Chapter 4
« ^ »
Alex flicked a cursory glance over at the woman Isabel had been talking to when he came in, the one who had said Isabel described his kiss as hot. He blinked at her flamboyant green skirt and day-glow orange T-shirt, and then turned his attention back to Isabel.
She looked like she'd gotten less sleep the night before than he had.
"You said not to bother."
She rubbed both sides of her temple in a circular motion. "I didn't mean for you to come by my office instead."
She could use sustenance and a couple of pain relievers. "Would you like to go somewhere for breakfast?"
The woman standing next to Isabel said, "Mmmm. Mmmm. Mmmm. There's nothing hesitant about him, is there?"
Isabel didn't answer her right away. She stopped rubbing her temples to focus her attention on Alex. He felt exposed, although her look was filled with more irritation than perception.
"No, Bettina, he's not subtle. He's more like a Mack truck, but then again the two of you might have something in common there."
Bettina considered that while looking Alex up and down, like he was a piece of abstract art on display at Saturday Market.
"If we have something in common, he must be more harmless than he looks," she finally said.
"In a pig's eye," Isabel said. "This guy is dangerous with a capital D. He goes after information and he doesn't care how he gets it."
Alex had had his fill of being talked about as though he wasn't there.
He pulled the bottle of pain relievers—which he'd grabbed that morning for his own headache—out of his pocket and dangled it in front of Isabel's eyes. "The only information I want is an answer to my invitation. Do you want to go to breakfast with me, or not?"
Isabel's gaze set greedily on the bottle in his hand. "Bettina, do you have anything for my headache?"
"Sorry, girlfriend. You know how I feel about over-the-counter meds. I visit my chiropractor when I get a headache."
Isabel sighed and lifted her gaze from the white plastic bottle swinging loosely in Alex's hand to his eyes. "I suppose you're going to refuse to share unless I come with you."
"Yep."
She frowned. "I could buy my own, you know."
"This is easier."
"I can't just drop everything and go to breakfast with you. I have clients to call and obligations to fulfill."
Bettina snorted. "Right. When you skip breakfast, you're as cranky as Tyrone when he's not getting any. Do your clients a favor and eat, already."
; Isabel whipped her head around to glare at her friend, only to regret the hasty movement when the pounding increased. "You're supposed to be on my side."
"I didn't say go to bed with the guy. I said get breakfast," Bettina replied, radiating innocence.
Isabel pushed away from her desk and stood.
She put out her hand. "Painkillers first, breakfast second. Just so there will be no confusion, this time you're buying, right?"
"I paid last night, too." He wasn't going to let her reference to last night ruin his mood. "It was your choice to leave a forty dollar tip for the waiter."
He handed her the bottle of pills.
"My head hurts too much to argue." She popped open the bottle and shook two tablets into the palm of her hand.
Handing it back to Alex, she said, "Excuse me for a minute," and left the office.
"Forty dollar tip?" Bettina asked.
Alex nodded but he didn't explain.
"I don't think she should, you know."
Alex shifted his concentration from the doorway, waiting for Isabel's return, to Bettina. "Should what?"
"Have sex with you. It's too soon for her."
"Apparently, I'm not the only one that lacks subtlety."
Bettina ignored the warning in his tone. "I mean it. I'm glad you said you aren't the casual type because she's not either, and I don't want to see her hurt again."
"Don't you think your warning is a bit premature?" Who the hell had hurt Isabel before? "I just met her and I'm taking her to breakfast, not a hotel."
Bettina shook her head. "No, you're a dangerous man and you want Isabel. It's in your eyes. Besides, you said when you two had sex, not if, when you walked in here. Your intentions are clear. I just want to know if they're also honorable."
Since walking into Isabel's office two days ago, Alex's world had felt tipped on its axis. Bettina's demand to know his intentions didn't seem nearly as bizarre as it should have under the circumstances. Still, he wasn't about to make promises after knowing Isabel for such a short time.
"You want to know if I plan to marry her?" He used a tone that had served him well in intimidating others in the past
Bettina was not fazed. "Yes."