by Helen Conrad
He’d been attracted to her from the start, but he had hardly expected this. She was trespassing here, out for what she could get; but after all, weren’t most women? He could go beyond that. If they could just get this fortune-hunting thing behind them...
But wait. Wasn’t he forgetting something? He hardened himself, drawing back.
“That’s right. I’d forgotten. You have done this before, haven’t you? You married Jeffrey Collingham. Or so you say.”
She frowned and shook her head, clearing it. The reference to Jeffrey brought her back to reality with a thump, but she was still having a hard time getting this straight.
He was the bad guy. She was the good person. This man was really too much. What was he trying to pretend, that he was the injured party?
There was very little doubt about that any longer. His uncle was a crook, and most likely, he was, too. A swindler. A bunco artist. Whatever they called men who preyed on ingenuous women.
Now the indignation was real and clear, and she yanked her wrist out of his grip, though she was still under his control where she stood against the wall. But that didn’t keep her from giving him the full thrust of a good steady glare.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, Tanner Carrington. You know very well what your uncle is up to. I found proof. That’s what I came for.”
He raised one dark eyebrow. “Proof?” He nodded wisely, sarcasm gleaming in his eyes. “Is that what you found? And here I thought you were looking for something else. Like cash, maybe. Or something else to steal.”
He glanced around the room, seemingly at a loss.
“Well, I’m afraid you’re out of luck there. My uncle doesn’t have much jewelry. And as an experienced traveler, he carries only an international credit card, and that he keeps on his person at all times. So you see, you’ll strike out in that category. There’s really not much of anything here to carry off with you. Unless you want to go after the furniture.”
The man was unbearable. He couldn’t actually believe she’d meant to rob the place, could he? Just because he was a criminal didn’t mean the rest of the world had the same inclinations. Her fingers itched to find something heavy to throw at his handsome head.
Instead she took the opportunity to slip past him and make her way out into the main room again, away from the wall where he’d had her trapped. Turning, she tried to keep her voice steady.
“I did not come here to steal anything. And I didn’t come to snoop around. The... the maid mistook me for someone else and that threw me off balance. The next thing I knew, I was inside the room.”
She glared at him, her hands clenching the back of one of the wing chairs. “I came to talk to your uncle. That is all.”
He nodded, not believing a word of it, but enjoying her attempt at wide-eyed sincerity. She was certainly sticking to her story. If he didn’t know better, he would almost be tempted to give her the benefit of the doubt.
But that was just it. There wasn’t any doubt. He’d caught her red-handed, sneaking around in this very hotel room. There was very little doubt about it. She was a cheat.
“I see,” he said slowly. “Well, he’s not here. Maybe you should talk to me.”
“Maybe I should.” Her chin rose and her eyes narrowed.
This was more like it. Now if she could only get him to be the one on the defensive. “The maid called me Mrs. Carrington. That must mean there is a Mrs. Carrington.” She managed a triumphant smile. “Is the colonel... married?”
She said the word as though it were a dagger aimed at his heart, and he actually seemed to wince.
But something had changed. Amusement was taking the place of his anger. She could see it in his eyes. He bit back a smile as he answered. “Uncle John is not now, nor has he ever been, married.”
That was a relief. Maybe. Or did it really matter any longer? She was so confused about this whole Carrington affair. She looked at him. He was silhouetted against the large window, the light streaming in around him. The man was awfully handsome, in his way. Suddenly memories of Jeffrey spilled into her mind again, and for a moment she wasn’t sure why.
Tanner didn’t look at all like Jeffrey. But on second thought, there were things about him that were similar—the arrogance, the confidence, the smooth assurance. And yet Tanner was a con man and Jeffrey was the son of a captain of industry. There was no basis for comparison.
“Then who is this Mrs. Carrington?” she demanded of him, her eyes challenging his.
He shrugged, stepping closer again, but this time she didn’t back away. Instead she lifted her chin and held his gaze. She wasn’t going to keep backing down, and he might as well get used to it.
“I just made a joke,” he was saying, amusement flickering behind the dark accusation of his eyes. “And the maid took me a bit too literally.”
She nodded, looking wise. “I see. Then you are married.”
He made a face and gave her a quizzical look. He was very close again. Too close. Because, like it or not, he was awfully attractive, an asset he no doubt used in his profession. And she’d already given ample evidence that she wasn’t made of stone. But she stood her ground, despite the way he was looking at her face, and examining each feature as though it was somehow sensual and provocative to him.
“No. I’m not married, either,” he said at last. “Like uncle, like nephew.”
Exactly what she was afraid of. She sniffed. “Do non-marriages run in the family? How do you Carringtons reproduce?”
He laughed at that, his blue eyes sparkling. His former irritation seemed to have evaporated. He leaned toward her. “We manage.”
It was obvious she wasn’t going to get the best of him this way. She really should have kept on going until she was out the door. Now that door looked very far away.
But she could make it. After all, he wasn’t physically threatening her in any way. If she kept her wits about her, she should do fine.
She steeled herself and didn’t waver. He was still too close, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her discomfort.
“Tell me,” she said evenly, her eyes burning. “I’ve always wondered. Are con men born that way, or are you trained from a young age to follow some sort of family tradition?”
His grin was wide and insolent. Reaching out, he smoothed back a strand of blond hair that had come loose from her mass of curls, smoothed it slowly, with tantalizing impertinence. She was tempted to slap his hand away, but she stopped herself. Only the flash of her eyes betrayed what she was feeling.
But he could read her feelings, and he laughed softly. “What do you think?”
She bit her lip and raised her chin, glaring at him. “I think you probably take the younger boys and girls in your family and give them lying instructions from the time they can talk.”
He laughed again, falling in with the joke.
“That’s survival.”
Then his eyes darkened and his fingers traced along the lines of her neck, stroking lightly. “But tell me. How do you and your mother manage it?”
She frowned, reaching up to stop what his fingers were doing to her senses, not really sure what he meant.
“Manage what?”
“To develop skills in the old seduction game. Or are you going to tell me that’s just a trait women are born with? That it all comes naturally?”
She stared into his eyes, searching them. He couldn’t possibly mean this. It was just his way of turning suspicion back on her and away from himself. Didn’t he realize what a transparent trick he was playing?
“Have you met my mother?” she asked, suppressing her ready smile at the thought of her mother as a femme fatale.
He shrugged. “Not yet. I’m looking forward to that delightful experience.’’
She nodded. “I think you’ll change your tune once you’ve met her.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “That good, is she?”
“No.”
She shook off his hand and tried to
move again, but he had her pinned into a corner this time and she couldn’t really get away without pushing him. She glanced at his chest, imagining her hands flattened against it, her pink fingernails against the white shirt, and somehow she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. There was something arousing about the picture in her mind. Damn it, she was dead-on attracted to him, wasn’t she? This had to be stopped.
“Don’t twist my words. She’s real, she’s sincere....”
“A homespun girl, no doubt. Sort of the Kansas-in-August type.”
“Nebraska,” she said icily. “We’re from Nebraska.”
“Sorry.” He grinned. “But I’ll admit that’s a type Uncle John has fallen for in the past.”
“Has he? How interesting.” Her eyes flashed. “But don’t you think you ought to change your verb? ‘Preyed on in the past’ is how I would put it.”
He looked at her speculatively, wondering why she was sticking to her guns this way. They both knew she was the one on the wrong side of the law. He would have felt a lot more comfortable if she would come right out and say what they both were thinking. Then they could get on with things.
He wasn’t averse to romancing a crook. After all, a fortune hunter was just an honest version of the women he usually dated. And, for some reason, this one was touching some chord in him that hadn’t been reached for a long, long time.
He wanted her badly. Desire was whispering through lim. There was no getting around that.
“I must admit that this is a rather unique defense you’re putting on,” he said slowly, his gaze on her lips again.
“I’m a unique kind of gal. Now if you’ll excuse me...” She tried to slip past him toward the door, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“Oh, no.” His hand was on her arm again, his fingers firm. “You’re not going to get away that easily.”
She looked up at him and frowned. “What are you talking about?”
His smile wasn’t nearly as full of humor as it had been. “I caught you rifling through my uncle’s room. You don’t expect me to overlook that, do you?”
She gazed at him, aghast. “I did no such thing. I got in here purely by accident, and you know it.”
“I believe it was more by design. Please, take credit where you can.”
His fingertips trailed across her cheek and she realized she was beginning to breathe rather quickly. Too quickly. And something warm seemed to be flooding her face.
“I was only trying to find out what your uncle is up to,” she said nervously, trying to rub away the sensations his touch left behind. “You can’t blame me for that.”
He shook his head, not giving an inch. “I’m sorry to have ruined your plans, Kat, but you were caught in the midst of the deed. Now I think you should be forced to pay a forfeit.”
He was in deadly earnest. She could see it in his eyes.
“What are you talking about?” she protested, trying to forestall panic. “What kind of forfeit?”
He seemed to be gazing into the distance. “Let’s put it this way. I’ll give you a choice. I could call hotel security and turn you in. Or...” He looked down into her eyes again.
“Or what?” she asked indignantly, but her heart was beating so loudly she was sure the neighbors would be calling soon to complain about the noise.
“Use your imagination,” he said softly, and his fingers were suddenly tangled in her curls.
She swallowed hard. The man was obnoxiously arrogant. Someone ought to teach him a lesson.
“Is that the only way you can get women to sleep with you?” she said scathingly. “I would think a man like you would have more pride.”
He laughed softly, his gaze skimming across her lower lip before returning to her eyes.
“Pride has very little to do with it, Kat” He leaned closer, until his breath warmed her face. “You’re probably about the most charming little thief I’ve ever run across,” he murmured, so close she could feel the vibration from his voice against her skin.
She was trembling. She knew he could feel it. Utterly humiliated, she tried to strike back.
“Are you always charmed by women who can’t stand you?” she demanded.
He shrugged. “Are you trying to say that you hate me, Kat?”
She blinked rapidly. “Hate is such an ugly word. I guess you might say my feelings are not quite that harsh. It’s more like... intense dislike.”
“Good. Now let’s see how much you dislike this.”
He was going to kiss her. There was no getting around it. And she was going to let him. That was the part that shocked her.
It wasn’t like her to kiss a man who was practically a stranger. In fact, she didn’t do much kissing at all these days. Maybe that was why she seemed so susceptible to his provocative touch. Maybe... and maybe it was just that he was so good at conning women, and she was so ready to be conned.
But no, of course that wasn’t it. She was going to let him kiss her because that would open the path to escape. That was the answer. Once she’d sandbagged him with a kiss, he would lower his guard and she could get away. Kissing was just a ruse. Now if she could only convince herself that was true.
He took his time about it. He came closer by fractions of an inch at a time, until she could hardly breathe. He was filling her senses with his clean, musky scent, his warmth, his raspy voice, so when his lips touched hers, she closed her eyes and let herself sink into the current he created.
Here she was, kissing a man she was pretty sure was a swindler. But at this point, she didn’t much care. Because this kiss was something special. Maybe it was just because it had been so long since a man had kissed her this way. Or maybe it was because this man really knew kissing. Or maybe... Clear thinking faded at about this point, and pure sensation took over.
His mouth was warm, smooth, tantalizing, and she sighed, opening her lips to him as though it was the most natural thing in the world, as though the room were spinning slowly, slowly, and she was relaxing in the ride. For just a moment, she felt held and protected as she never had before. His touch was surprisingly tender. She could have let down every defense she had and gone on this way for a long, long time.
But then something changed. His hands slid down her back, fingers probing, palms pressing her to him, molding her to the firm lines of his body, and a new urgency seemed to surge in his kiss, hardening his mouth, turning the tenderness to fire.
It didn’t shock her. It didn’t even scare her. She found herself responding to his passion, melting against him, reaching for more of what he had to offer, opening to him as though she had been waiting for something such as this for all her life.
An intoxicating sense of his masculinity swept over her. She’d never felt so feminine, never felt the need for a man’s touch so intensely before. It beat in her like a pulse, coursed through her veins like a river of heat. She wanted to press
closer, wanted to crush her breasts against him, wanted to feel him harder and harder.
He felt her passion growing and it startled him. He hadn’t expected her to be so real, so candid, so completely without guile. He wasn’t used to that, and it didn’t fit in with the picture he was trying to preserve of her. It puzzled him and his natural wariness took over. He felt he needed time to assimilate her and her reactions.
When he drew back, she was disappointed, and she couldn’t even find it in herself to be embarrassed about it. She knew she should pull from him even farther, get out of his embrace, but there was something in his eyes that held her spellbound, unable to look away.
His hands still held her, stroking her upper arms, and his heavy lashes lowered on his sparkling blue eyes.
“You’re awfully naive for a fortune hunter,” he said softly, his gaze searching hers as though there was something he didn’t quite understand.
Naive? Outrage sparked in her again. How could he call her naive? Hadn’t he felt the way her body had responded to his? Just what exactly was he used to?
“H
ow many times do I have to tell you?” she snapped at him, stiffening. “I’m not a fortune hunter.”
Anger helped her gather her resources about her once again, but when she thought about it later, she wasn’t sure if she was more miffed about being called naive, or a fortune hunter. She drew back away from him, still shaky from the kiss and a bit in awe of her own responses, but determined to get over it.
Tanner was a bit off balance himself and the last thing he wanted was to show it. Straightening his shoulders, he forced a cynical smile and tried to pretend nothing had happened here that was in any way out of the ordinary.
“Well, then, I suppose it’s your mother who’s the fortune hunter,” he said pleasantly. “And you’re just her accomplice.”
She drew herself up and glared at him. This was getting very old. It was time they got a few things settled between them.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” she said crisply. “This is what it’s all about. I want to know your uncle’s intentions toward my mother. She seems to think things are getting serious. Are they? And if not, why is he letting her get that impression? What does he want? What is he willing to give? And is he doing everything possible to make sure my mother doesn’t end up with a broken heart? That’s what I want to know.”
He was shaking his head, as though he regretted something but couldn’t do a thing about it.
“Let’s put it this way, Kat. Your mother isn’t the first woman who’s taken a liking to my Uncle John. And if she thinks he’s going to marry her….well, he’s still a bachelor, after all these years. Does that answer your questions?”
Yes, that about did it. She looked away, swallowing hard. So he didn’t marry them. He just got control of their money somehow. Maybe he would try to get her mother to invest in phony oil stocks or give him a gigantic loan. Or maybe he would pretend to be fighting some glorious cause and need funding for it. Yes, she could see her mother falling for that one, all right.
Her poor mother. Didn’t she deserve something better after all the unhappiness in her life? Bitterness choked her throat. These men were sharks.
