by Julie Miller
“Tell me this,” he whispered. “Did you like what we did last night on the phone?”
Her face grew hot with embarrassment. She immediately lifted her palms and hid her blush from public view.
“People are watching.”
“Answer me. Honestly,” he dared.
She understood the fundamentals of sex. She knew terminology to use and safety precautions to take. She’d seen movies and read books. She knew women who claimed to use sex as a means to control men, and she knew men who used women like her mother to fulfill their sexual fantasies. But she hadn’t really known about sex.
Not until Logan Pierce.
She hadn’t known she could actually like the way sex made her body feel.
She hadn’t known.
“Did you enjoy it?” Logan’s eyes darkened to intense shards of granite, demanding the truth.
Using psychological torture to reveal a state secret couldn’t have been more painful for her. “Yes.”
She shoved him back and climbed to her feet. The humiliating admission ended their workout session as far as she was concerned. With chin high, she avoided making eye contact with anyone else and headed for the locker room.
Before she reached the edge of the mat, though, Logan snatched her by the ankle. He tugged her off balance and Grace fell to her knees, her grand exit thwarted as he dragged her back beneath him. She twisted to free herself and pounded at his chest with her fists. But Logan was too strong, his wrestling skills too finely honed. In seconds, he had her shoulders and hips pinned to the mat.
“I enjoyed it, too.” His hushed voice and half smile stopped her fists.
The fight drained right out of her. He enjoyed it? He enjoyed her? Grace’s muscles quivered with an edgy, unchanneled energy. “Why did you call me last night?” she asked on a whisper for his ears alone.
“Because I couldn’t stop thinking or worrying about you. I’m so damn obsessed with you that I can’t concentrate on this case anymore. I need to focus if I’m going to prepare you properly. I need to be able to concentrate once we’re inside Mitchell’s estate if I’m going to keep you safe.”
How could a man say such beautiful things and sound so upset?
He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his growing anger inward.
Seeing the struggle he was going through, if not necessarily understanding its cause, Grace reached up and rested her palm against his cheek. His skin felt as feverish as her own. “Lo—”
“Don’t.” He pulled her hand away, refusing her comfort as he opened his eyes and glared down at her. “I need to get you out of my system.”
“I’m not quitting the case.”
“I know.”
“Do you have something else you want to suggest?”
Logan’s mouth opened as if to speak, but then he snapped it shut, thinking better of whatever he’d been about to say. He stood and pulled Grace to her feet, but released her quickly.
Just like that, he ended the conversation. He ended the workout. He ended the frustrated tension building between them.
He ended all hope of Grace ever understanding how a man’s mind worked.
A few minutes ago she’d been the one eager to leave. But now she followed him over to a bench where he picked up a towel, wiped off his face and hung it around his neck.
“C’mon, Logan. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me so far. What is it?”
He combed his fingers through his damp hair, moving each strand into place, it seemed, before he turned and looked down at her. “Do you know you blush whenever I talk about sex or pay you a compliment or touch you?”
Grace shook her head. “Where are you going with this?”
“Rule number ten.” He grabbed her by the wrist and held her in place when she automatically turned toward the locker room to retrieve her steno pad. “You can write this down later, see if it makes any better sense to you then than it does to me now.”
“What’s rule number ten?”
His voice had dropped to such a low pitch that she had to lean in close to hear him. “Appeal to all of a man’s senses. Your breasts cover the visual part. Last night your voice had my blood boiling in my veins. But I wanted you to touch me. I wanted to smell you come. I wanted to taste your pleasure in my mouth.”
Grace blushed all over again. He brushed his fingertips across her cheek, proving that he’d made his point about her physical reaction to his sexual innuendoes.
“What’s it gonna be, Gracie? Do you have the brains and the confidence to use that body as a tool to seduce Harris Mitchell? Or will you hang on to the mistaken idea that enjoying your body is a bad thing, and quit?”
She turned her cheek from his touch. A silent alarm speed the pulse inside her veins. “I don’t have to enjoy whatever games Mitchell tries to play with me.”
He shrugged. “But you’ll have to act like you do.”
“I know that.”
“Do you really?” he challenged. Logan picked up another towel and tossed it to her. By reflex alone, she caught it. “Monday morning you asked me to teach you how to seduce a man. I think we need to check into a hotel room tonight to see if you can.”
Grace blinked. Twice. Unsure that she’d heard him correctly. She clutched the towel tightly to her chest. “That sounds like bad writing from one of Mother’s movies.”
“Think of it this way.” He dropped his knowing gaze to where she covered herself with the towel. “If you’re not comfortable with a man talking and touching and coming on to you, then how are you going to convince Mitchell you’re a player in his league?”
Was he for real? Grace tried to drop the towel but couldn’t. She didn’t know whether to be offended or defensive or just plain mad. “You’ve planned a very thorough training, Agent Pierce.”
“I don’t want Mitchell’s sexual overtures to surprise you and throw you off your mark. You can’t afford to blow your cover once you’re in, or you’ll be dead.”
Last night she’d felt so close to Logan. If he’d asked her then—on the phone—she might have said yes. But now?
“So you want to double-check that I can play my part without blushing. That I can anticipate what’s coming at each stage of the game so I know when to make an excuse and get out of there. Otherwise my choices will be breaking my cover or having sex with Harris Mitchell.”
“Basically. Yeah.”
Logan’s explanation made good sense. But his proposition sounded so impersonal, so clinical.
“Is that the only reason why you want to…” She couldn’t even say what he was suggesting. “Meet tonight? To see if I pass your seduction test?”
“No.” Logan traced a finger across her breast, just above the line of the towel. Her toes curled inside her shoes at the suggestive caress. But his hard gray gaze warred with the gentle persuasion of his touch.
“I want to find out if you’re as good in the flesh as you are on the phone. Maybe then I’ll be able to get you out of my system.”
9
GRACE LIT THE LAST of the vanilla-scented candles and blew out the match. The clerk at the candle store had recommended several stronger, spicier, more exotic scents as the popular choices for a romantic evening. But Grace stuck with plain vanilla. She found its rich, delicate scent comforting. And she had a feeling she’d need whatever strength and comforts she could find to get through this evening.
She tossed the spent match into the trash and picked up her steno book and pencil from the bedside table. “Let’s see, that’s ‘scent.”’ She put a checkmark beside the word on the list she’d made. “‘Touch.”’ She’d handled that with the lotion she’d smoothed over her skin after her bath. “‘Taste.”’ That would be the tray of fresh fruit, cheese, crackers and dip she’d ordered from room service. “‘Sight.”’ She’d gone to a lingerie shop at the mall and splurged on a navy-blue lace bustier that was held up by a bit of boning and imagination, plus a matching thong. “‘Sound.”’
She crossed to the de
sk and pushed the play button on her portable CD player. The melodic rhythms of a Celtic instrumental ballad filled the room. She adjusted the volume to a soft level and checked it off on her list.
Done. She’d followed all ten items on Logan’s sexy how-to list in preparing for tonight’s test.
She had to prove to Logan she had everything it took to go undercover with a kinky crime lord, and she wanted to prove to herself that life under the covers wasn’t always a game-playing fiasco.
She wanted to sleep with Logan. And, hopefully, to appease her newly awakened sex drive enough that she could get rid of the frustrated curiosity Logan said tormented him, as well.
Grace inhaled deeply and gave the room one last survey.
They had agreed on a neutral location at a hotel near the airport for this unofficial training session. The suite of rooms she’d selected was spacious but modest. No crystal chandeliers or mirrored ceilings, but there was a king-size bed and roomy bathtub.
Shuddering with nerves and excitement at the thought of actually going through with this, Grace tucked the collar of her white fuzzy robe up around her neck. She put her steno pad away in her bag in the sitting room and checked her watch. It was time.
“All set.”
With the determination of an agent going after a most wanted criminal, she removed her watch and set it on the nightstand beside her cell phone. Then she marched back into the sitting room and perched on the edge of the chair facing the door. She was ready to do this.
She hoped.
Just as doubt began to rear its sabotaging head, there was a soft knock at the door.
She’d always admired punctuality in the men she worked with, appreciated the sense of security and predictability it gave her. But tonight’s timely knock made her heart race with anticipation. She hoped the telltale blush on her cheeks blended with the makeup she’d carefully applied.
Grace stood and took a deep breath. She pushed an independent-minded curl off her forehead, walked to the door and breathed deeply again, slowing her pulse and hiding her nervousness beneath the cool, calm and collected facade of the old Grace Lockhart.
Finally, knowing that putting this off any longer could be interpreted as a concession of defeat, she opened the door.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” Logan stood in the hallway, dressed in his usual attire of jeans and a leather jacket. A smoke-blue Henley shirt peeked out at the collar. Judging by the bulge beneath his arm, she guessed he was wearing his gun and holster, as well.
“Expecting trouble?”
Logan grinned. “I like to be prepared for anything. And you, lady, are always full of surprises.”
She smiled, feeling a few of those nerves dissipate at his teasing humor. “You can lock it in the closet safe with my sidearm, if you want.”
“Right.” His casual yet all-seeing gaze, looked beyond her into the softly lit room, then settled on her face. “You ready for me?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She stepped back and opened the door wide. “Come on in.”
While she locked and bolted the door, he removed his jacket. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”
“Thanks.” She came up behind him and took the jacket from his grasp. “I’ll take that. Gun, too, please.”
As he shrugged out of his holster, she admired the graceful ripples of muscle over bone across his broad shoulders. She could enjoy this evening, she reminded herself. If she gave herself permission to. As she put away his bulky jacket and gun, she couldn’t help but think about the size and power of the man who wore them both. She inhaled the raw scents of leather and masculine musk and sighed at the delicious contrasts to her own delicate scent.
She gave herself permission to enjoy.
When she returned to the sitting room he was pouring them two glasses of the sparkling grape juice she’d ordered with the snack tray. “I went ahead and helped myself. I hope that’s okay.”
“Sure. Thanks.” She accepted the glass he offered and looked straight up into his gray eyes. Rule number one. Eye contact. His were pale now, like fading storm clouds, his expression relaxed. She planned to change that. “I want you to feel at home here tonight. If there’s anything that makes you uncomfortable, I want you to tell me.”
“I should be saying that to you.” Did he just shift nervously on his feet? Surely legendary ladies’ man Logan Pierce wasn’t having second thoughts about tonight. His hesitation gave her confidence an endearing boost. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with a shiny gold bow. “Here. Open it.”
“You didn’t have to bring me anything.” She set down her drink and quickly opened the package. And frowned. “A box of condoms?”
“I like playing games, but I don’t like taking chances. For either of us.”
A whole box of condoms. Yes, she was an apt pupil and, yes, she understood that sex was on the agenda for tonight. But a whole box?
Grace’s breath stuttered and caught. Logan must be expecting big things of her.
Her first wave of panic kicked in and her mind went blank. Plan? She had a plan for this evening, right? Oh, hell, what was it?
Stay in control.
Rule number two.
Thank God she’d worked so hard memorizing the rules he’d given her. Grace breathed easier. It was as simple as a computer program, really. Just stick to the formula and it would all work out. “Thank you for, uh, thinking of me.”
“I was thinking of us.” He handed her the glass of juice again. “Just so you know, I have a clean bill of health. I just didn’t know whether you were on the Pill or not.”
She hadn’t even thought about protection. That Logan had been considerate enough to do so raised her confidence level another notch.
“For your information,” she said, “no, I’m not on the Pill, but I have a clean bill of health, too. So we don’t have to worry about anything like that.”
“Good.” He raised his glass in a toast. “To tonight.”
She clinked her glass to his. “To tonight.”
Grace watched him over the rim of her glass as he sipped his drink. His Adam’s apple bobbed along the long column of his throat as he swallowed. She swallowed hard, her body tightening with a dramatic response to the purely masculine sight.
Rule number three had something to do with erogenous zones. She hoped that included finding out where his most sensitive spots might be. She hoped his throat was one of those spots. She really wanted to taste the tanned, taut skin along his neck.
“Grace?” She blinked at the sound of his deep-pitched voice. She’d been staring. She was supposed to seduce him. She had something to prove. Drooling over Logan wasn’t part of the plan.
“Okay.” D day had arrived. Agent Grace Lockhart would not fail her mission. “Where should we start?”
“You tell me.”
“Right.” She nodded, fortifying her courage. “I have to seduce you.”
He nodded skeptically. “Right.”
“Are you hungry?”
His eyes darkened to the color of gunmetal. He was hungry, all right. But judging by the feral gleam, he wasn’t thinking about food.
“All right then…” She released a breathy sigh. So much for stalling. “I thought we’d start with a game of chess.”
“Chess?”
Logan couldn’t think of one single, sexy, seductive thing about chess. All this polite little small talk made him a tad nervous. He didn’t want Grace to fail. She needed the confidence of knowing she could pull this off. And his libido, his concentration, his future as a field agent depended on her making tonight work. Once they’d done the deed, his hormones would be sated, his fascination with her appeased. He’d get Grace out of his system and go on with his life a happy, focused man.
He was curious how this would all play out. She was wearing a virginal-white fuzzy robe that reminded him of the comforter he’d cuddled up in on the couch when he’d had the flu. Gr
ace covered in fluff from her neck to her ankles wasn’t exactly part of the picture he’d envisioned of their fun, sexy night.
True, she’d made the stereotypic preparations of finger foods and candles and music. But she’d need something a little more innovative to catch Mitchell’s attention.
Logan cursed at that thought, one that threatened to spoil the evening. With a desperate man’s will, he pushed aside all thoughts of the case and concentrated on Grace’s swaying butt as she led him to the two overstuffed chairs and coffee table where she’d actually set up a game of chess.
Now that was surprising. That was one of those rules on the list he’d given her. He didn’t know where she was going with the old-fashioned game of strategy, but he was intrigued enough to play along.
She indicated he take a seat, then sat across from him, making sure that the robe was tucked and secured around her waist and neck. “At first I wasn’t sure how to work in the smart thing, you know, rule number eight? But I think I came up with something—if you’re willing to try.”
Her eyes sparkled like clear-cut emeralds, dancing with anticipation. Logan’s entire body smiled in response to her excitement. Maybe this was going to be okay, after all. “You’re running the show tonight. Let’s see what you got.”
She set her drink on the table beside the game board and Logan followed suit. “You do know how to play chess, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, we’re going to play a regular game, trying to checkmate each other’s king, but with an interesting twist.” Her chest rose and fell with a steadying breath. “Whenever a player’s piece gets captured, he or she has to do something for the other player.”
“What do you mean, ‘do something’?”
Her rose-painted smile dared him. “Play me and find out.”
Play me? In that let’s-have-sex voice of hers, her invitation became the ultimate come-on.
Intellectual strip poker.
Logan’s body jumped at the chance to play.
