by Cynthia Eden
A muscle jerked along his jaw. “Tell me the fucker’s name and he’s dead.”
What? “He’s in custody, so you don’t have to worry about him.” Her chin jutted up. “On top of everything else that happened, now I’m having to deal with you. You’re threatening me. No, check that, I think you’re blackmailing me—”
“Blackmail.” He winced. “That is an ugly word.”
“Yes. It is. And you’re the one doing it.”
“I’m not blackmailing you.” He shook his head. And he closed the distance between them. His hand lifted toward her face. “You have a little bit of the tear drop left here.” His jaw was hard as his fingers lifted and carefully swept over her cheek. “Silk,” he whispered.
“Excuse me?” When he’d touched her, Lacey’s heart had thudded so hard and loud that she hadn’t been able to hear that last part that he’d said.
His hand lingered on her cheek. His gaze seemed to burn into her own. Why was her chest tight? Why did it seem so hard to breathe?
The man was threatening her. Blackmailing her. Yes, it sure sounded like blackmail to Lacey, no matter what denial he might want to spit out. And yet she was standing there, her whole body reacting to him like she was waiting for some kind of first kiss or something.
Ridiculous. Obviously, she was still reacting to the adrenaline. And not to him. Not to some kind of insane, primitive, super-hot attraction to Dex.
She caught his wrist, much like he’d caught hers before. She curled her fingers around his and—
Felt scars.
Her eyes widened as she flipped over his wrist.
“The cuffs left quite a mark. No worries, though. It was a long time ago.”
She stared at the old, white lines that curled around his wrist. Lines that cut across his skin much like tight handcuffs might have done. But to scar him that way…
“Had to get out of them, so what was a little pain? The mission depended on my success. Just so you understand who I am, I didn’t start at the top. I started in the field, where there is blood and betrayal and death all around you.”
Her fingers were sliding over his scars, as if she could take away the pain. But the pain had ended long ago.
“We all carry scars, don’t we, Lacey?”
Her head tilted as she looked at his face once more. Her fingers lingered around his wrist.
“Some are just hidden on the inside,” he continued, “where it’s ever so much harder to see them. But those scars are the ones that can hurt you the most.”
He was right. She swallowed the lump in her throat and let go of his hand. “I think your five minutes are way up.”
“True. They are. But you haven’t heard my full offer yet.”
She backed up a step. Lacey definitely wanted some space between the two of them. “There wasn’t an offer.” Her voice sounded all crisp and cool. She was rather proud of herself for that tone. “There was blackmail.”
“There you go, talking dirty to me again.”
One eyebrow rose. “When I talk dirty, you’ll know.”
His smile flashed. A shark’s eager grin. “Is that a promise?”
Her lips clamped together.
“No?” A long exhale. “Guessing it’s not a promise. Unfortunate. My hopes were up.”
She did not understand him. “I’m going to bed. And, no, that is not some offer. It’s me telling you that your time is up, and I’m exhausted.” So exhausted that she’d actually let a tear slip out in front of him. She didn’t cry in front of anyone. Her pain wasn’t for the world to see. It was hers. Hers alone. “So I’d like to say this has been fun—”
“Hasn’t it? I mean, we’ve had quite the first date.”
First date? No.
“I got your other would-be suitor on the floor with barely any effort. Seriously, you must have been disappointed with how easily the man caved to me. Then, to make the evening even more unforgettable, I proposed. How many first dates have given you so much excitement? And, now, for the final reveal…”
She turned away. Enough.
“For the final reveal, I’ll offer you what you want most.”
Her steps faltered. “You have no idea what I want most.”
“Are you kidding? Have you met me? I’m like the ‘all knowing Oz’ from—”
She spun toward him. “Maybe my memory is sketchy, but I thought that Oz guy was a fraud. Just pretending he knew everything and that he had all the power. When really, he was just a man hiding behind a curtain.”
Dex’s head inclined toward her. “I’m the real deal.”
She snorted. “You’re—”
“Your parents were murdered.”
She sucked in a breath.
“You hired a PI to find the truth a while back, but he wasn’t good enough to get the job done. You went to work at Wilde because you wanted to use their network to find out the truth. You wanted to catch the killer. To find out why they died.”
Lacey didn’t confirm or deny his charge.
His expression was inscrutable as Dex added, “Instead of thinking that I’m blackmailing you, how about you view it as me offering you a deal? You agree to be my partner on this one assignment—just one little case—and I can help you get what you want most.”
“You’re lying to me.”
“I lie to many people.” A nod. “I do it without barely thinking.”
Tension knotted at the base of her skull.
“But I’m not lying to you. I have resources that Wilde can’t tap. You want to find out what really happened to your parents? I can give you that answer. And you don’t have to pay a dime for the truth. Eric Wilde can go on thinking that you came to join his team because you wanted to be part of the family.”
She wondered if his use of the word family had been deliberate. Did he know—
“One assignment. You pretend to be my fiancée. You follow my orders unconditionally. We take down some very bad people. Then you get what you want most.”
Her sweaty palms were pressing to her thighs. “I need to think about this.”
A sigh slipped past him. “What’s to think about?” And, once more, he eliminated the distance between the two of them. “I’m offering you what you want.”
He was. And she knew he had resources she could use. If he kept his word and didn’t tell Eric…
What do I have to lose?
“Tell you what,” he offered with a roll of his broad shoulders. “To show you how cooperative I can be…How about you sleep on it? I’ll give you until five a.m. to tell me your decision. That way, you can rest for a little while. You can clear your head. And you won’t be able to later say I rushed you.”
“You’re giving me a few hours. That still falls into the rush category.”
“Yes, well, time is of the essence. The plane leaves at seven so…”
The plane? “So you’re pretty certain I’ll agree.”
His gaze swept slowly over her face. “I’m learning a great deal about you right now.”
His words held an unsettling ring of truth.
Dex rattled off an address. “I’ll be in the presidential suite there,” he explained. “So when you decide, come to me. I’ll be waiting.” Then he turned and walked for her door. “Sleep well.”
As if she’d be able to sleep at all. “Why me?”
“I already told you.” He didn’t look back. His hand reached for the door. “You’re smart. Obviously capable. You know how to fight. And Eric doesn’t just bring anyone on his staff. I will be able to count on you when things go dark.” He hesitated. “Besides, I also need someone who would suit me as a believable fiancée.”
Um, what did that mean?
“There are some things that can’t be faked.” His voice was little rougher. “I need the people watching us to believe that I want you so badly I would do anything to have you. That I can’t keep my hands off you.”
“I…I think a guy like you could fake most things.”
Now he
did look back. “Why bother faking when it’s real? Makes everything so much easier.”
Wait, wait, wait. Had he just said…was he telling her that he really wanted—
“Good night, Lacey. Sleep well.” A quick wink. “Maybe you’ll even dream of me.”
“If I do, it will be a nightmare.” She would not even think about the one time—one time—that maybe, kinda, sorta, she’d had a sex dream about him.
My dry spell must end soon.
He laughed. The sound was warm and rough and sexy. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.” He slipped out of her home.
She hurried forward and shoved the door closed behind him. Flipped the lock. Squeezed her eyes closed. “Dammit.”
Leave it to Dex to get her all tangled up like this. Arrogant, controlling, hot Dex.
Hot?
She stomped away from the door. She had until five a.m. She was going to shower. Going to crash in bed. And not going to dream about him. But first things first…Lacey grabbed her phone and called Eric Wilde. He answered on the third ring.
“Lace? What’s happening?”
“Dex Ryan is happening.”
“Oh.” No surprise. Definite resignation.
“You knew he wanted me to work with him?” Just to be clear.
“Yes, he mentioned it. But I told him that there was no way you’d agree.”
Her hold tightened on the phone. No way, except Dex figured out what I want.
“Lace? You there?”
“I’m here.” She wet her lips.
“Look, I don’t care what the man told you, you don’t have to take the case.”
“But you have a relationship with him.” A frenemy kind of thing. “I know how things work. He’s CIA. You do favors for him. He does favors for you.” She peered toward her front door, almost expecting Dex to pop up again. “If I say no, what happens to Wilde?”
“Not a damn thing. I can handle Dex.”
Can I? “He wants me to leave with him at 7 a.m. He wants me to pretend to be his fiancée.”
Eric swore. “Tell me you’re not going to do it! You know how that guy is!”
Arrogant. Incredibly manipulative. Dangerous. Diabolical. And…
He had scars on his wrist. Deep scars from where he’d fought to escape cuffs. He’d been so careful as he brushed away a tear from her cheek. He’d offered to give her what she’d desperately sought since her parents had died. The truth.
And, of course, he’d blackmailed her. Not like she could forget that part of the night.
“Uh, Lace, you didn’t answer. You aren’t going to take the case, are you?”
She didn’t reply.
“Are you?”
***
Dex whistled as he lifted the cup of coffee toward his mouth. He’d ordered the early delivery from room service, and it had arrived right on time.
Ten minutes before five a.m.
Steam drifted off the black liquid, and he lightly blew over it. His gaze darted toward the fingers of his right hand as they cradled the mug. The knuckles were a bit bruised. He’d decided to make a little side trip before returning to the suite after his visit with Lacey.
Sometimes, there was just work that needed to be done. Work that required a personal touch.
He sipped the coffee and let the caffeine surge through him.
The clock on the table ticked closer to five a.m. Ever closer.
And his phone rang. The ring tone was set to some kind of SciFi TV show. Antony. Dex put down the mug and pushed the phone toward his ear. “Someone is up early.”
“You know I didn’t go to sleep.” Antony’s voice was disgruntled. “I kept searching for intel on your lady, and I just sent it all to your email. You are welcome.”
“Someone is feisty in the morning.”
“Do not start with me, Dex. I stayed up all night for you. I found out everything about her. Everything from the woman’s bra size—34C, by the way—to the number of lovers she’s had.”
Dex’s muscles tightened.
“I sent you their names and pics, in case you were curious—”
“Are you trying to make me angry, Antony?” he asked silkily. “Because that’s my fiancée you’re talking about.”
Antony sucked in a breath. “What the—no, I didn’t mean—” He broke off. “She…agreed then? Even without all this intel I gathered, you got her to agree?”
Three minutes until five. “The sun isn’t up yet. You know I told you that I’d have her agreement by sunrise.”
“But you can be wrong,” Antony muttered. “Sometimes, like it can happen. Statistically speaking, it is more than a possible occurrence. She could tell you no. Tell you to go to hell, in fact.” He seemed to warm to the topic. “She could tell you—”
A knock sounded at the suite’s door.
Two minutes until five.
“Got to go, Antony. My soon-to-be fiancée just arrived.” Dex kept the phone to his ear as he rose and stalked to the door. A quick glance through the peephole showed him that, yes, Lacey was there. A black, rolling piece of luggage was at her side. “Why don’t you get some sleep? Oh, and Antony?”
“What now?” Definitely disgruntled.
“I get that we’re friends. But friendship can only go so far. Don’t ever fucking talk to me about her bra size or ex-lovers again. Where my fiancée is concerned, I’m very, very jealous and possessive.”
“But—but—” Antony stammered. “Are you punking me? She’s not even your real—”
Dex hung up on him. He tucked the phone into his back pocket and swung open the door.
Chapter Three
“You are right on time.” Dex gripped the door with one hand. “I’ve got to say, punctuality in a partner is a plus.”
In response, she glowered. He doubted that Lacey would like to be told that glowers were cute on her. But they were. Come to think of it, though, she pretty much always looked good to him.
She’d pulled her hair back in a messy bun, and loose tendrils escaped to tease her cheekbones. She wore jeans, black boots that rose to her knees, and a long, flowing red sweater.
“You’re dressed for the cold. Guess that means we’re ready to roll.” He nodded. “Excellent. We can head downstairs. I’ll have my driver take us to the airport—”
“I have not said that I’m agreeing to this situation yet.”
“Lacey…” He drew her name out. He liked her name. It was sexy. Just like she was. Fit her to a T. “You’re here with a suitcase at your side. Of course, you’re agreeing.” Why waste time pretending otherwise?
She huffed out a breath. Her glower became more ferocious. Even cuter. And those deep, dark eyes of hers darted to—
“What happened?” She was peering at his bruised knuckles as he gripped the wood of the door. “Did you hit your hand on something?”
Something. Someone. “Yes. A few times. No worries. I’m good.” He dropped said hand and backed up. “Come on in. You obviously want to talk before we hit the road, and I have hot chocolate waiting for you.”
“Wait!”
He didn’t wait. He went inside because he was utterly certain she’d follow him. Sure enough, she did. The door clicked closed a moment later. He sat on the sofa. Motioned to the waiting hot chocolate that sat on a nearby delivery cart.
Her luggage bumped into the edge of the sofa as she studied the whole scene with suspicion. “How do you know I like hot chocolate?”
Dex let out a long-suffering sigh. “Because I am the all-knowing—”
“Don’t say that to me again.” She plunked down next to him. Her thigh brushed his leg, and he tensed at the contact. “You had me investigated, didn’t you?” Lacey reached for the mug of hot chocolate. Whipped cream covered the top of the liquid, and caramel and chocolate syrup had been skillfully layered in an artistic design on the fluffy cream. She took a sip and moaned.
His brows shot up. That was certainly a fun new sound from her.
“Heaven,” she de
clared and sipped again. “Okay, I know what you did. You had one of your techie agents dig into my life. That’s how you know I like hot chocolate.” She angled toward him. “That’s also how you knew about my parents. I bet you dug into my financials, didn’t you? Found a record of where I’d paid the PI? I think there are laws about that kind of intrusive search.”
He leaned toward her. His eyes were on her mouth. His hand lifted, and his thumb slid slowly, sensually, over her lower lip.
He was close enough to see the widening of her pupils.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Her breath caught.
“You had a little whipped cream on your lower lip.” A sight that had been tempting as all hell. He brought his thumb to his lip. Sucked away the whipped cream.
She watched him with her deep, dark eyes.
“You’re right,” he growled. “Heaven.” But he was talking about how she tasted.
She looked back at the hot chocolate. Back at him. Then— “No.”
“No, what? No, you don’t like the hot chocolate? Because judging by your moan, you—”
“I meant…no. No, I am not sleeping with you.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not.”
“Noted.”
“I get that you want me to pretend to be your fiancée, but that’s all this is, got it? Pretend. When we’re alone, you’re not crawling into my bed.” Her cheeks had flushed. The flush made her even more beautiful.
“For the record,” he murmured, “I feel compelled to point out that I don’t generally crawl into a woman’s bed. Not my style. First, I’m invited. Very eagerly invited.”
She snorted.
His lips wanted to curl. Because even that snort of hers—
No. Stay focused. “I’m eagerly invited,” he continued blandly, knowing the role he had to play. He was always playing a role. With everyone. Everyday. Sometimes, the deal got old, but it wasn’t as if he had a choice. He’d given up the luxury of being his true self long ago. “And after I get my invitation, I don’t crawl.” Hardly. “Sometimes, I pounce. Sometimes, I jump, and sometimes, well, I just wreck the bed because the lady I’m with…all we care about is pleasure.”
