She fastened me with an inscrutable gaze, and her cheek twitched—just slightly, but it was there. I was getting to her.
“I can give you a vague idea.” She was reluctant, but she wasn’t flinching from my touch. I called that a win.
“That’s all I ask.” I held her eyes, staring her down until she glanced away, licking her lips. The room seemed to be a degree or two hotter.
“We work for companies, and for individuals. Sometimes people like lawyers need to know if someone is lying to them, for example. In that case, we’d send in an operative who could read minds. Or maybe a client needs a precog, for whatever reason—to help with making a decision.”
“And just what would you do with someone like me?”
“A manipulator?” At my expression, she laughed. “Sorry. It’s what we call people like you, who can make people do things they don’t necessarily want to do.”
“Nice. I don’t think I find that flattering.”
“So join us and come up with a new term.” She winked at me. “Okay, someone like you—sometimes we put manipulators in with hearers. That way they can prompt the subject to think about something so that we can hear it. Or they can suggest a different course of action to a person who’s heading down a dangerous road.”
I rubbed my hand over my jaw. “That would be what I’d be doing? Making people do things they don’t want to do?”
Joss leaned back in her chair. “Partly, but it’s not as harsh as you’re painting it. We always send two operatives into any mission. Sometimes you’d be there as support. And we never manipulate anyone into doing wrong, or harm to themselves or others. We’re the good guys, Rafe. I promise you that. I wouldn’t be part of Carruthers if that weren’t the case.”
A knock on the door interrupted us, and I watched Joss walk across the room to answer it. I’d never seen a woman move like her. Tasmyn was beautiful, and she had turned me on just by flicking her eyelids in my direction. But Jocelyn walked with a sinewy grace, a kind of seductive dance that made me forget to breathe.
The room service attendant wheeled a cart into the room, nodding to me. Joss and I were both silent as he set up the table, producing several domed plates, silverware rolled in linen napkins and crystal glasses. He muttered to himself as he worked, and I hid a smile.
Finally, he stood back with a flourish. “Dinner is served, mademoiselle and m’sier!” He whipped the silver cover off one plate. “Ici, we have a filet mignon, medium well, with a crabmeat garnish, baked potato and steamed broccoli. Et ici, pour m’sieur, another filet, medium rare, with a lobster tail and au gratin accompaniment. Caesar salad on the side.”
“It looks amazing, Paul.” Joss flashed a mega-watt smile. “Thank you so much.”
He bowed, and Joss handed him the black folder containing the receipt. I saw the familiar green of a folded bill inside, and by the size of Paul’s smile, so did he.
He slipped out, and I stood to hold a chair for Jocelyn at she sat down at the table. “So, does my order meet with your approval tonight?” She stabbed a bit of potato and smirked at me.
“No complaints here. Steak is always good. I guess you knew I like it medium rare from your research?”
She shrugged. “Not really. My experience has been that most men like their meat rare and their women...” She tilted her head, one side of her mouth tipping up. “Well-done.”
And there it was again. I wanted to kick the table over, grab this woman and throw her on the bed. Pound into her until I felt satisfied. Something deep inside was saying it was going to take more than once.
“Rafe?” She was looking at me with not-very-well-concealed amusement. “Are you with me here? You checked out.”
“Sorry.” I cut into my steak and took a bite. It was a crazy burst of flavor and texture, and I almost moaned. “Oh, my God. This is incredible.”
“Yeah, they do steak well here.”
We ate without speaking for a few minutes. Joss uncorked a bottle of red wine and offered me a glass. It was the perfect complement to my steak, and not what my willpower needed when it came to resisting her.
“You said your grandparents don’t want you to work for Carruthers. But you don’t seem like you’ve made up your mind.”
I blew out a breath and took another sip of wine. “I thought I had. My grandmother doesn’t ask much of me, so I like to make her happy. She almost never asks me not to do something, and she took a stand on this. Told me I should say no.”
“But maybe you don’t want to say no?”
I didn’t. I didn’t want to say no to anything Jocelyn was offering, whether it was a job, a meal or another crazy night of wild animal sex. I met her eyes across the table and groaned when I saw my own desire mirrored right back at me.
“Don’t do that.” I didn’t meant to growl, but it came out that way.
“Do what?” Her innocence was a total sham, I could hear it. She was playing me, and while part of me hated it, another part found it a huge turn-on.
“Don’t look at me the way I’m probably looking at you. God, Joss, this is supposed to be business. Right?”
She cast her eyes to the ceiling and the tip of her tongue shot out to touch the corner of her mouth. Oh, yeah, I was hard. Again. Harder.
“Well, yes, it’s business. But when you work with Carruthers, it’s not like having a regular job. Because you’re working with people who are like you, who are sometimes the only ones you can talk to about the real shit in your life. They’ve become my friends, my family. So yeah, I’m here to recruit you for Carruthers, but if I’m going to be honest...” She leaned her head on her hand, her eyes never leaving mine. “If I’m going to tell you the truth, I have more than one reason for hoping you say yes.”
I tried to find my focus again. “How do I know you aren’t using this as an angle to get me to sign on? Do you work on commission for recruiting new—what did you call them? Operatives?”
“Oh, for the love of God, Rafe. No, I don’t get a commission, and I can tell you I’ve never slept with another recruit. Have I had sex with other Carruthers employees? Yes. I have. But not someone I was trying bring in. And I would have slept with you even if you weren’t a potential. How’s that? Make you feel better?”
“I’m not sure,” I muttered. “I can’t think straight right now. None of my blood is anywhere near my brain.”
Joss grinned. “Why, Rafe, that’s the greatest compliment anyone has ever paid me. Thanks.”
“Any time.” I finished my steak and laid down the fork on the side of the plate.
“Look, Rafe. I have an idea. I was kind of afraid you were still going to be on the fence tonight about Carruthers, so I got approval to offer you something that might help. I have this job tomorrow. Last thing I’m doing before I leave the Big Easy.” She stretched her hand across the table and laid it over mine. “You could come with me. Help me. See what we do, and then maybe you’ll have a better idea about Carruthers and whether or not you want to work with us. How does that sound?”
I studied her with narrow eyes. “I thought you had to keep everything confidential until I officially signed on. Isn’t it a little dicey to have me tag along when I might go tell-all on you?”
She smiled again, this time looking more than a little like the Cheshire Cat. “Because you have as much to lose as we do, Rafe. If you go public on Carruthers, we can do the same right back to you. We can expose your whole family.”
My face must have reflected the sick plunge to my stomach because Jocelyn hurried to go on.
“We never would. You can check us out. Carruthers lives by a code of discretion and silence. We would never tell anyone about your family or your community. I’m not threatening you, I’m just pointing out that you have as much to lose as we do. Understand?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I get it. But I want it clear that what I do is on me, and only on me. I don’t want my grandparents or any of my family put at risk. Do you understand?”
“Of course
.”
“Okay. Then I’ll do the job with you tomorrow. You want to tell me about it? Give me the background?”
A predatory glint shone in Joss’s eye. “Tomorrow there’ll be plenty of time for that. Tonight, I think we have other ways of preparing for the mission.”
She shifted in her chair, and I felt her bare foot skim up the inside of my leg, settling at the seam of my jeans, the part that was straining at the stitches. She wriggled her toes, and I gripped the side of the table, unable to breathe.
“God, Joss.” I wish I hadn’t moaned the words, but I totally did. “You...are...incredible.”
“In a good way?” Her other foot joined the game, and I think I went cross-eyed.
“Uh, yeah. In a very good way.”
“Then that’s all right.” She undulated her feet in such a way that I thought I was going to explode right there. I needed to be out of these pants and on top of her. Now. Or maybe five minutes ago.
“No, don’t move.” She slipped her feet away, and I was afraid I was going to cry. That would be fucking embarrassing. But before I could really protest, I realized she had disappeared beneath the table.
“Jocelyn, what are you...Oh. Oh, my God.”
She was under the table, between my legs, and her fingers were busily working on the zipper of my jeans. She tugged it down, letting my erection spring free. Her hands were on me right away. My mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“This is what I wanted to do last night at the restaurant. But you know, I go there a lot. With clients.” Her hands were stroking me, up and down my length as my hips bucked involuntarily. She slipped her fingers beneath to cup me, and with the other hand held me near the head.
“And so it would have been awkward for me to crawl under the table.” Her lips covered me as she spoke, and the vibrations shot up my body. She ran her fingers over my cock as her tongue circled the tip lazily.
“But this is what I would have done. Like I said, I like being in control.” And then she took all of me into her mouth, humming a little in appreciation or being turned on or I don’t know what the hell, but God, it felt so good. I was squirming in my chair, and one of my hands finally moved to knot into her hair.
She lifted her mouth, sucking just a little, and then plunged down again until I hit the back of her throat.
“Joss...get up. I want to...I’m going to...” I was panting, and I couldn’t get the words out. I don’t know if I had ever been so completely turned on.
“No. I’ll have my turn later. For now, this is for you. And for me.” She kept her lips on me even when she was talking, and the movement was insane. I felt the building pressure, the pleasure tunneling my vision to one spot, one focus.
“Ahhhhh...Joss...” I ground out her name as my hips began to pump. “God, Joss, I’m going to come.”
She picked up her tempo, sucking harder, her hands gripping my base as I rode against her mouth, my whole world narrowing to that one place, to her lips, her teeth, her tongue.
When I erupted, it was with a growl and a shout, and my hand clutching the back of her neck. I fell back, panting.
Joss’s face appeared from beneath the tablecloth. She smiled at me, her eyes both lazy and triumphant as she used the napkin to dab at her mouth.
“So...ready for dessert?”
I woke up as the sun hit my face the next morning. For a few confused moments, I wasn’t sure where I was. I’d been in more New Orleans hotel rooms in the past few months than I could remember, but I never stayed until morning. I left while it was still dark, and I always slept in my own bed.
But Joss and I had been busy last night, and after our last round, I’d simply fallen next to her onto the mattress and passed out.
I glanced over to the other pillow. Joss was burrowed into the white sheets, only her red curls spilling out to tempt me. I traced the shape of her body beneath the covers with my eyes. She’d been wild last night, and the room showed it. A few sofa pillows, a dome from our dinner table and her hairbrush were all on the floor, thanks to Jocelyn and her occasional telekinesis. She hadn’t told me that passion could be a trigger, and I’d almost been knocked out by the brush as it sailed over my head.
“I can hear you thinking.” Her voice was muffled by the pillow.
“No, you can’t. Not unless there’s something you haven’t told me. Something else, that is.”
Her shoulders shook, and she turned her head to reveal one eye. “No. I can’t do that. And sorry. About last night, I mean. I can’t tell when it’s going to happen. It just...does.”
“Honey, believe me, you have nothing to apologize for.” I threw my legs out of bed, stretching. “Not one thing. And even if I’d been pegged by your brush—or the dish thing—I’d say the same.”
“Why, thank you, and right back at you.” She eased over onto her back, sprawling her hair in a vibrant circle all around. “Are you hungry? I thought I could brief you on the job today over breakfast.”
I studied her over my shoulder. “It doesn’t bother you a bit, does it? Going right from business to pleasure and then back again?”
“Should it?” She rubbed on hand over her eyes. “No, it doesn’t. I don’t know why people create these boundaries. Work life, home life, sex life. I like to have them all blended together. Maybe not at the same time,” she hastened to add. “But if we’re having sex, and something about work pops into my brain, why shouldn’t I say something to you about it? And if we’re working, in the right environment, I just might get turned on.”
I shook my head. “Okay. Whatever. Yeah, let’s have breakfast. You want to order it, or should I?”
I thought I knew what she would say, but she surprised me. Again. I was beginning to see a trend.
“You do it. That way I can grab a shower and start to get ready.”
“Really? You trust me to get you a meal?” I clapped my hand over my heart. “I’m flattered, Joss. I truly am.”
“Don’t let it go to your head. I’m not fussy about breakfast. Just make sure there’s coffee and lots of it.”
I found the room service menu, called down our order and went on a hunt for my clothes. My jeans were under the dining table, my shirt—buttons intact this time—was behind the chair. I grinned as I collected them and got dressed.
Jocelyn emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in an oversized fluffy white robe and her hair wound up in a towel, just after our food arrived.
“Yum, something smells delicious.” She lifted one cover and nabbed a piece of bacon. “You got at least one thing right. And where’s the coffee?”
“Right here.” I poured it into a mug and handed it over. “Sugar? Cream?”
“Cream, and don’t be stingy with it. Thanks.”
We sat across from each other, eating in a comfortable silence. Joss approved the waffles and strawberries I’d ordered for her and even reached across to steal a bite of my eggs Benedict.
“So today.” She took a long drink of coffee, closing her eyes in appreciation. “Ahh, that’s good stuff. Today we’re going to be attending a meeting in the Central Business District. Two munitions manufacturers are finalizing a deal. Chatham Defense is buying Wolpert Arms. Or that’s the plan, at least.”
I sopped up the last of my egg and Hollandaise with a corner of toast. “Are we there as part of the plan? And who is the client?”
Joss stood and reached into a brown leather briefcase I hadn’t noticed sitting on the chair. She pulled out a tablet and switched it on, tapped in some sort of password and ran her fingers over the screen. Finally she swiveled it to face me. An older man, probably in late sixties or early seventies, with gray hair and warm blue eyes, smiled out.
“We were hired by Donald McCall, the president and CEO of Wolpert. Mr. McCall is the latest in a long line of McCalls to run this company. It’s a family business, dating back to before the Civil War, and he doesn’t want to sell.”
“Then why is he?” I refilled both of our coffee cups and pushed
the creamer toward Jocelyn.
“Thanks. He’s been strong-armed into it by the Board of Directors and the CFO, who are motivated by...well, we assume by money. Wolpert’s been hemorrhaging money for years now, and they want to get out while someone still wants to buy.”
“But Donald isn’t on board? And our job is to...go in and convince the board members not to sell?”
“Not exactly. Donald wants us to work on the powers that be at Chatham, have them amend the deal. He’s not stupid; he knows that if it isn’t this deal, another will come along, or it won’t and they’ll have to go under. But he wants more concessions made for his employees, and for him to remain on the board for the rest of his life. The way the agreement is structured now, it’s basically a takeover, and the Wolpert BOD gave Chatham everything they asked for.” Joss smirked a little. “Donald says his grandson, the CFO, basically ‘bent over and dropped trou.’ He’s a real Southern gentleman, Donald is, but he’s angry about this. Enough to use strong language in front of a lady.”
“Was that lady you?” I teased her.
“It was, but don’t worry, Donald apologized after he said it. My poor female ears recovered.”
I laughed at that. “Yeah, I bet. Okay, so we’re going to manipulate the minds of the Chatham group. I assume that’s where I come in. Tell me, Joss, what did you plan to do if I didn’t agree to this?”
She balled up her cloth napkin and tossed it at me. “You’re not the only manipulator in the world, you know. We have a few others on staff. I had one on stand-by to fly in for today, but it was good you could do it. She—the manipulator I was going to use—is deep in another op, and she’s needed there.” Joss’s eyes skinned away from mine as she said this, and I felt a prickle of unease at the back of my neck.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I frowned at her.
“Nothing. Well, lots of things, but nothing I can say until you’ve officially joined us and signed the blood oath.”
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