Dark Nights Dangerous Men

by Elisabeth Naughton, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Alexandra Ivy, Laura Wright, Joan Swan

  Eyes locked on his, she let go. Before she could change her mind, she rose and slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder while he paid the bill. When he stood, she ran a hand down his arm and smiled. “Since you already missed your flight, how about a nightcap?”

  His lips quirked up, white teeth flashing against tanned skin. “I think that sounds like a delicious idea.”

  She felt tiny tremors of heat trickle between her legs. And knew she wasn’t getting any packing done tonight.

  ***

  This wasn’t going the way he’d planned.

  He should have slipped the Mickey into her wine at dinner. He should already have been in and out of her room. And he should definitely be on a plane headed east right this very minute.

  Instead, Rafe had enjoyed dinner more than he’d anticipated. Dr. Maxwell was quick on her feet, intelligent, and surprisingly, a lot of fun to be around. The more time he spent in the curvy doctor’s company, the longer he wanted to drag out his little charade.

  Standing in the elevator next to her, smelling her racy perfume and listening to her raspy voice, his libido went into overdrive. Just how much of a bastard would he be if he let her wrap those shapely legs around his waist and screw him senseless before he got down to business? After all, the woman was sending him every I-wanna-get-fucked sign in the book.

  If she kept it up, that’s just what she was going to get. That and a whole lot more.

  The elevator pinged, the door opened and she stepped onto the twelfth floor. Swallowing his thoughts, Rafe followed her toward the suite at the end of the hall.

  She slipped the key card into the slot and waited for the light to turn green. When it did, she smiled and pushed the door open with her shoulder. “I miss old-fashioned keys.”

  So did he.

  He followed her into the suite, hating that he had any sort of conscience where she was concerned. Guilt had never been a problem for him, but then he’d never been attracted to his target before.

  She dropped the key and her purse on the rectangular table in the entry. Obviously, no one had taught Dr. Maxwell to be cautious.

  Another plus in his favor.

  Her heels clicked across the marble floor as she crossed to the bar on the other side of the living area. Tall windows looked out at a view of Duomo Square and the twinkling lights of a sleepy city.

  He set his briefcase on the floor next to the white curved sofa and watched as she bent to retrieve a bottle of wine from the mahogany sideboard. Muscles flexed in her calves, her ass rounded out beneath the smooth black fabric of her skirt. Arousal seared through him, hot and urgent, as he took in every scrumptious inch of her.

  She rose, grabbed two wineglasses from the top of the bar, turned and brought them to the table near the window. “Would you open this?”

  He’d like to open a whole lot more. “Sure.”

  A smile curled one side of her mouth as he stepped forward, and he felt that wicked flare in his gut again as he got closer. She licked her lips and let out a victorious sigh before taking a step out of his reach.

  Her hands slid down to the buttons of her black jacket. She popped the first, trailed her fingers to the next and popped that one as well, revealing a cream-colored camisole with lace trim that teased her rounded cleavage. “While you do that, I’m just going to run to the other room. I’ll be right back.”

  She disappeared down the narrow hall before he could stop her.

  Alone, Rafe blew out a breath and rubbed both hands over his face. Not good. Ten seconds ago he’d totally forgotten why he was here. If she hadn’t taken a step back, they’d be rolling across the floor right now. One lusty look from her and he was ready to toss the whole assignment away? He never lost sight of the goal.

  Shaking his head at his stupidity, he uncorked the wine and poured ruby red liquid into two glasses. He pulled the vial from his jacket pocket and tapped the white powder into one glass before he could change his mind, then used his finger to stir it around. Casting a quick glance toward the bedroom and not seeing her, he lifted the bottle and took a long swallow.

  Son of a bitch, get it under control, Sullivan.

  After replacing the vial, he removed his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair while rolling his shoulders and mentally running through the schematics of the suite. He’d studied this hotel inside out over the past week to make sure everything flowed smoothly.

  And it would. As long as he kept his pants zipped and his hands to himself.

  “That feels so much better.”

  He glanced up at the sound of her husky voice. Gone were the black jacket and ice-pick heels. Barefoot and wearing only the slim black skirt and tight-fitting camisole that accentuated her curvy figure, she walked back toward him. Arousal punched through his gut again, shutting down his brain in the process.

  “My feet were killing me,” she said.

  And she was killing him. His mouth went dry.

  She accepted the wine he handed her. “Thank you. What should we drink to?”

  A night of mindless sex.

  His eyes followed the glass as she lifted it to her lips. For a split second he contemplated knocking it out of her hand, before reality kicked him in the stomach.

  “How about to unexpected encounters?” he responded in a voice that was steadier than he’d anticipated.

  “To unexpected encounters.” A smile tugged at the corners of her tantalizing mouth as she tapped her glass against his, then took a long swallow.

  Hell, there went the marathon sex. Hiding his disappointment, he lifted his own wine and sipped.

  Her glass lowered. “So, tell me. Do you make a habit out of stalking visiting professors?”

  Only when they had something he really wanted. “No.”

  “Hmm.” She sent him a disbelieving look before walking into the living area, where she sat on the plush couch with her wine. He followed and sank next to her. “Are you married, Mr. Garcia?”

  He set his glass on the wrought-iron coffee table. “No. You?”

  She shook her head and took another long sip. “Girlfriend?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “Hmm,” she said again, her gaze traveling the length of his body before returning to settle on his eyes. She set her half-empty glass next to his. “And how about this? Are one-night stands your thing?”

  “I don’t have a thing. Are they yours?”

  With a smile, she shook her head and leaned forward, slipping the glasses from his face. She folded the stems and put them on the table. “Now that we have all the nice little lies out of the way, why don’t you kiss me like you did before?”

  The scent of gardenias wafted over him. “Not like before,” he whispered when she got close.

  She slid one delicate hand across his chest, the gentle touch stirring the coals in his gut, making his skin tingle with anticipation. Eyes heavy with desire, she brushed her lips across his, and he drew in a breath at the slight contact, his senses kicking into high gear at the soft and supple feel of her mouth.

  Paradise. It was the only thought he had, the only one he could focus on as her lips skimmed his. Her tongue licked at the corner of his mouth, coaxing him to open, and those smoldering embers burst to life at the feel of her silky wetness. A need to taste her rushed through him like a wave. His lips parted, searching. Then her wet and teasing tongue dipped inside his mouth, caressing his with soft, demanding strokes.

  This definitely wasn’t what he’d anticipated. He was supposed to be the one doing the seducing, not the other way around. For a moment, he wondered if she was taking him for a ride.

  Like he cared. Just the heat from her body was enough to make him forget his own name.

  Ignoring everything but her and the way she made him feel, he threaded his fingers into her sassy short hair and pulled her mouth tight against his as he explored her lips and tongue and teeth. A soft moan echoed from somewhere deep inside her, and he wrapped his other hand around her waist in re
sponse, pulling her against him. Her firm breasts grazed his chest, her hip bumped into his, igniting the flames building in his loins.

  So much more than before.

  “Me vas a acabar,” he mumbled against her mouth.

  She pushed a hand against his shoulder and levered up onto her knees. “I don’t have a clue what you just said, but God, that’s sexy. Keep saying it.”

  Her mouth crushed over his again, tongue hot and greedy as it tangled with his. She straddled his hips and settled herself on his lap. His erection pulsed to life when she rocked into him, slipped her hands into his hair and kissed him harder.

  Thought slithered out of his grasp. Instinct took over, the desire to feel her skin against his raging like a wildfire.

  “¿Cama o sofá?” he asked between kisses, running his hands down her back to find the zipper at her skirt.

  She tipped her head so he could kiss her neck. “Yes.”

  He laughed against the pulse of her throat. “Couch or bed,” he asked again.

  “Oh. Bed,” she said breathlessly, waving a hand behind her. “Back there. Somewhere.”

  He slid the zipper down just as her tongue dipped back into his mouth. The sensation shot a hot rush of blood straight to his groin. With quick movements he pushed them both off the couch. He needed to be inside her, wanted it more than he’d expected.

  She undid the buttons on his shirt one by one as she stepped backward toward the bedroom, her sultry mouth continuing to tease and taunt and drive him absolutely mad.

  Not five-four. Without her heels she was more like five-two, and damn if that didn’t turn him on more. He wanted that tiny body wrapped around him as fast as possible, wanted to feel those legs lock behind his hips and draw him in.

  She pushed the dress shirt off his shoulder. It hit the floor in the hall. He broke the kiss long enough to yank the camisole over her head and drop it behind him. His hands slid into the waistband of her skirt, pushing it down smooth skin and curvy hips to pool at her feet, revealing the lacy low-rise boy shorts underneath. He groaned at the sight, dropped to his knees in front of her and trailed his lips down her flat stomach.

  “Ay, querida, eres una maravilla.”

  She wove her fingers into his hair and let her head fall back in pleasure. “Oh, my God. You don’t have a clue what that accent does to me.”

  Laughing, he kissed his way back up her torso, pausing at those tempting breasts covered in flimsy white lace. Her hands slipped over his shoulders as he rose, and she kissed him again, her wild tongue fanning the flames in his gut to explosive levels. Anxious for more, he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifted her off the floor and carried her into the bedroom.

  A canopied bed covered in gold fabrics sat against the far wall. He dropped her on the mattress and climbed over her.

  “Hurry, Rafe,” she whispered, reaching for him.

  His thought exactly. He braced his hands on each side of her, lowered and claimed her mouth again. Her fingers flicked to his belt buckle, and he groaned at the simple touch, fought back the urge to help her so he could pick up the pace and bury himself inside her before it was too late.

  He cupped one hand around her breast, nibbled the sensitive flesh of her ear and licked his way down her throat. Her eyes slid closed and she moaned, arching her hips against his at the same time she dipped her hands beneath the waistband of his slacks.

  Oh, yeah. Just like that. Keep it up, querida.

  He tugged the strap of her bra down her shoulder and kissed the creamy flesh above her breast. “Delicioso.”

  She let out a long sigh. His lips trailed to the vee of her cleavage. He pressed his pounding erection into the valley between her legs, wanting only to get closer.

  Her hand slid from his hip and landed against the mattress. He kissed his way back up her neck, licked the corner of her mouth. When her lips didn’t part, he pressed into her hips again and stroked his tongue against her succulent mouth.

  “Kiss me,” he demanded.

  She didn’t move.

  “Lisa, kiss me.”

  Her silence finally got through to him, and he pushed up on his elbow only to find her eyes were closed, her head tipped to the side. That luscious cleavage rose and fell with her gentle breathing.

  No, no, no. Not yet.

  “Lisa?” He shook her.

  Not a single muscle moved anywhere in her body.

  “No.” A strangled groan rumbled from deep in his chest as he dropped his head and breathed deep. Ten minutes more and he could have taken them both to paradise before letting her drift to sleep.

  More frustrated than he had any right to be, he rolled off her and stared up at the gauzy fabric covering the top of the canopy. He had a massive hard-on that wasn’t going away anytime soon, and the goddess he craved was sound asleep, thanks to him. Somewhere along the way, the woman had managed to send him into a fit of sexual despair unrivaled since his teen years.

  He was losing his touch. That had to be the answer. He was getting too old to be doing this. Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes. Good thing this was his last job.

  Options ran through his mind. He could lie here and wait until she woke up, but that would likely be hours, and if he did that, he’d totally blow his cover. He couldn’t take the risk. Too much was riding on this hit.

  Shit.

  Frowning, he pushed himself up to sitting and stared at her. Her lips were flushed and swollen from his mouth. Her short hair stuck out at odd angles, thanks to his roving fingers. Her bra strap hung down around her arm, that plump breast just begging to be devoured.

  Get off the bed, Sullivan, before you do something you’ll regret in the morning.

  He rose, though he didn’t want to, then pulled back the comforter and lifted her limp body onto the sheets. With a supreme force of will, he tugged the covers up to her chin and resisted the urge to climb between the silky sheets and wrap himself around her.

  Forcing himself to look away, he buckled his belt, turned for the living room and retrieved his shirt from the floor. His skin chilled from the loss of her heat. He slid the cotton over his arms as he found his briefcase, opened the zippered pouch and extracted his tools.

  The safe was hidden in the back of the master closet. It wasn’t hard to find, and he shook his head at the stupidity of hotel guests. Why people thought their loot was secure in a hotel safe was beyond him. In less than one minute he had the metal contraption open and was staring at the marble relief of the Greek goddess known as Alecto.

  The first of the three Furies.

  “Hello, sexy.” He turned the marble in his gloved hands and examined the back. The numbering matched the one he had carefully secured at home.

  Dr. Maxwell didn’t have a clue what she’d so carelessly left hidden in the hotel safe. If she did, she never would have been so blasé about the piece.

  “Two down, one to go,” he muttered, sliding the relief into the velvet pouch he’d brought for it.

  He walked back into the bedroom and paused next to the bed. Lisa was still sound asleep, her steady breathing the only noise in the room.

  Before his body changed his mind for him, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. Regret snaked through him at the thought of what hadn’t been, but as he’d learned a long time ago, regret was for shit. What he held in his hand now was the key to everything.

  “Thank you, Querida,” he said as he straightened. “I sure do wish things could have been different.”

  Chapter Three

  A pounding headache roused Lisa from sleep.

  On a strangled groan, she flopped onto her back and tossed an arm over her eyes to block the intense stream of light. She’d forgotten to pull the drapes last night, and the tall windows were now letting in every irritating ray of sun the Italian city of Milan could throw her direction. Her retinas burned beneath tightly shut eyes, and the drumming in her skull wasn’t getting any better as she lay there waiting to die.

  Two glasses of wine at dinner. An
other half glass when she’d been back in her suite. She shouldn’t have a massive hangover like this. She could handle her alcohol better than that.

  Muttering curses at no one in particular, she pushed herself onto her side, grappled for the phone and punched room service. The perky female voice only made her wish for a gun.

  “Coffee. The biggest pot you’ve got,” Lisa grunted.

  “Si, Signorina Maxwell.”

  She replaced the receiver and flopped back into the pillows. The last thing she remembered was tumbling onto this big bed with that sexy Spaniard. She didn’t have a clue when he’d left, but judging from the silence in the suite, the man was long gone.

  Her gaze swept over the yellow rose and folded note lying on the pillow next to her. She reached out and lifted the paper.

  It was pure paradise, Querida. I only wish we’d had more time.

  —Rafe

  A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. Too bad she couldn’t remember that paradise. She let out a long breath and fingered the golden bud he’d obviously swiped from the flower arrangement on the coffee table in the living room. At least he’d left her something.

  Rubbing her forehead, she glanced toward the red numbers on the digital clock. Ten forty-five. Dammit, she’d missed her flight for a night of wild sex she couldn’t even remember.

  She rolled to her side and lifted the cordless phone again. When the operator answered, Lisa gave directions for an outside line and rattled off the Greek phone number. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she closed her eyes and waited until the room stopped spinning before pushing to her feet.

  A steady stream of Greek filled the line, making the pounding in her brain kick up a notch. “English, please,” Lisa said as calmly as she could.

  “Art Institute of Athens,” the voice replied in a clipped Greek accent. “How may I direct your call?”