“Catherine.” Her name rolled off his tongue like something made out of sugar and chocolate, incredibly sexy and hedonistic. “May I buy you a drink?”
“But you just sent me a glass of wine.” She nodded in the direction of her table.
“You didn’t touch it. I’m assuming you’re not particularly fond of Chianti.”
“I’m fine, thank you. Getting me drunk won’t get you anywhere, you know?”
Another rich peal of laughter burst out.
She laughed with him just to be polite. Anxiety crept in, despite the naughty urge that made her want to lick him as if he were her favourite sundae. Why did he invite me over here? Does he know who I really am?
“So.” Gabriel’s eyes brightened. They were a light hazel with flecks of gold. “May I be privy to this lucky gentleman’s name?”
It took her a few seconds to comprehend what he meant. Gabriel must have guessed she would be meeting someone. The imaginary lawyer who would never show up. And since this was a gentlemen’s club, women rarely popped in here unless they were invited.
“Marvin Jackson. He’s my father’s lawyer. Told me to meet him here to discuss a few things.”
“Marvin Jackson,” Gabriel echoed, looking thoughtful. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met him. And here I thought I knew everybody in this place.”
Crap. Quick, distract him. “Nice shirt.”
“You think so? That’s a lovely dress you’re wearing, as well.”
“This old thing?” She managed a quick laugh. “Got it on discount racks at Kohl’s.”
“It suits you well.”
“Thanks.” She spun her brain, thinking of an excuse to get away from this place. Even though Gabriel was hot and all, he was sharper than she’d thought. Sooner or later, he would find out she was blowing hot air. Bathroom? Too cliché. Grab her purse and dash to the door like Road Runner? Hmm…
“Boyfriend?”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t see any ring on your fingers, so you aren’t married or engaged. No mark of a ring either, so you can’t be widowed or previously engaged. You’re too young to be the love interest of the gentleman you’re meeting if he’s your father’s lawyer. Ninety per cent of the members of this club are gentlemen over the age of fifty. I’ve safely assumed you’re either single or in a relationship with a man your age.”
“Wow. You guessed all that based on the fact I’m not wearing any ring?”
“It’s a simple matter of deduction.”
“How do you know I’m not a lesbian and in a domestic partnership with…” Cat gulped and added lamely, “…my partner?”
“I could be wrong.” He tipped his head. “But you would likely have declined my invitation if you were into girls.”
Jesus. She had to get out of here. Gabriel was way, way smarter than she had expected. What had she been thinking, spying on him closely on his own turf like this? She sucked at questioning people. This wasn’t a missing cat or nabbing some married guy who’d had nookie with a stripper. This was some serious shit she was treading in.
“Well?” he demanded.
“Nice shirt.”
Gabriel looked super amused by now. He snatched her wrist and semi-dragged her to the table he was playing on. She had a feeling he knew the game she was at. He thrust the cue stick in her hand and scooped himself behind her. No, against her. She could feel warmth emanating from his body, and his scent permeated the air like an intoxicating perfume. It had a heady effect. He didn’t wear any cologne. Just his natural scent. Musk. Feral. And, whatever it was, it spiked her libido to the roof. Her nipples hardened. Her pussy became wet. She felt his hot breath on her ear. The hairs on her nape stood up. She heard a deep inhalation.
Dude. Did he just scent me?
She looked over her shoulder to investigate, but all of a sudden his lips were on her cheek. Her heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t a kiss. No. It was more like…tasting. He dragged his tongue lazily across her jaw line to the shell of her ear. She shivered. Gabriel nipped her earlobe and sucked it.
Cat’s knees buckled.
Gabe quickly steadied her with an arm across her belly. It gave him the opportunity to draw her closer to his chest. She was just perfect. Her body moulded to his embrace as if she had been made just for him. He could feel the fast gallop of her heartbeat. The goosebumps on her skin where he’d tasted her. And her deepening arousal…
Her scent.
Fucking unbelievable.
She was more irresistible than a lioness in heat and this woman wasn’t a shifter. She was only a human. Ironically, her name was Cat. She was a kitty Gabe would be only too happy to pet.
“Are you all right?” Gabe asked her. He knew he wasn’t. His cock had been hard from the moment he’d caught her scent as she’d innocently breezed into this club. The white cocktail dress she wore had caught everybody’s attention. It hugged her hourglass figure seductively without being trashy. But since the club was rather deserted at this hour and mostly populated with older gentlemen, they knew better than to stare at her blatantly. Especially at the pair of fine breasts she had. If she were his woman, Gabe would forbid her from wearing something that flirty. He wanted to keep this scrumptious morsel of delight and all her glory to himself.
Cat. Catherine. Gabe wanted to purr her name.
“I’m fine.” Her voice was a bit shaky.
“You sure?” Gabe leant down and breathed in her scent. God. He would have jumped her bones if she were a lioness and they were in the Serengeti, not in the heart of Manhattan. His lion said Fuck the society rules and just claim her, already. His beast had been restless as soon as it had caught her presence.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Okay.” Gabe fixed the cue stick in her hand, showing her how to hold it correctly. He then arranged her arms on the table and told her how to make a perfect shot. “This one should be easy. Kiss shot. Our goal is to make balls one and three kiss before the cue ball sends them into the pockets.” He marionetted her hand and told her to hit. Her tap was weak. It didn’t pack enough force to send the balls down the holes. Understandable. She was new to this game.
But what he was curious about was what she was doing in this place. The club belonged to him, and he knew for sure he hadn’t approved a membership for a man named Marvin Jackson. It didn’t take a genius to see she was up to something.
She looked disappointed about the shot. “I…uhm… I’ve never played this game before.”
“I can see that. No worries.” He arranged her arms and hands to make the next shot. “Is your name really Catherine?”
She froze. “Yeah,” she said indignantly, straightening her posture. “Catherine Kovac.”
“Kovac. Eastern European surname. Serb?”
“Croatian. My father is Croatian. My mother is Jordanian.”
“I thought you had Middle Eastern blood in you. Your skin”—Gabe touched the exposed part of her shoulder and her forearm—“is very exotic. Café au lait. It just so happens I’m very fond of the drink, as well.”
Her indignation turned into a blush. “Th-thanks.”
“Now, Cat. What really brings you here? I know there’s no gentleman named Marvin Jackson in your planned engagement.”
Her cheeks reddened. Gabe found her very cute. Everything about her was cute, from her straight, raven hair, which she wore down to her tailbone, to her big, dark fawn eyes, shapely nose, and petulant chin. Not to mention her petite figure with curves in all the right places. Her waist was dainty, but her hips and ass were every man’s fantasy. Full, firm, and perfect for mounting in a hot, sweaty fucking session.
She sighed, throwing her hands up. “Okay, you caught me. Are you going to call the cops?”
“For trespassing in a private club?” Gabe pretended to ponder. “I don’t know. You tell me.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“That certainly could be arranged.”
She hesitated for a moment before
she decided to come clean. “I’m a private investigator.”
This pretty little thing? Gabe resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Charming. What are you investigating?”
“You.”
“Naturally. What are you trying to find out about? My business dealings? My sordid affairs?”
Her eyes widened with interest. “You’re currently dating someone?”
“Which gossip tabloid sent you?” Gabe hadn’t dated in more than seven years, since the woman he had been seeing, Michelle Dally, had suddenly committed suicide by jumping from her sixty-storey apartment building. The media had hounded him to the point where he had had no privacy any longer. Since then, he had kept his appearances in public minimal and every move he had made had been done in absolute secrecy. He denied all interviews and never partook in social events.
“I’m not a reporter; I’m a PI.”
Gabe narrowed his eyes. She didn’t seem to be lying. He trapped her with his bulk. Her back was against the edge of the pool table and his arms flanked her petite body. He thought this type of intimidation would squeeze the truth out of her. But his lion mistook it for another step in the mating dance. Fuck. Gabe could practically feel his beast going frisky under his skin, ready to claw out at any time to claim this woman.
“All right, Miss PI. Why are you here?”
“I was hired by a woman named Judith Rossi.”
The name didn’t ring a bell. Cat studied his face with eager determination. Damn. She was terminally pretty. Gabe wanted to kiss her until she fainted.
“You know her?” she asked.
“Should I?”
“My client”—Cat cleared her throat—“strongly feels you murdered her brother, Cameron Rossi, fourteen years ago in Africa.”
That took him by surprise. But Gabe kept his mask on. He was very good at it, maintaining his poker face and not letting any kind of emotion slip through. He had never killed a human. The only person he had killed was another shifter, a lion shifter, alpha of the Veron pride. It had happened in a duel in the gathering for the Night of the Lions, and for a very sound reason. Every winter solstice, all lion shifter clans from across the Serengeti gathered at the Tree of Life to elect which alpha was going to rule them all for a year. That night, after the duel, he’d collected his brothers, all that remained of Larousse pride, and jumped on a ship heading to America, leaving everything behind.
Who was Judith Rossi and why did she claim he had killed her brother?
Interesting.
Cat waited for his answer. Of course, he wasn’t going to oblige her.
“Well?”
“Kitty, are you seriously suggesting I should implicate myself in a murder?”
“No. But I thought it was worth a shot.”
Gabe laughed. He liked this woman very much. Maybe he liked her too much—he was seriously considering taking her as a mate. She was pretty, young and healthy, perfect to bear him many cubs. Her scent drove him crazy. His beast approved her. Too bad she was a scion of his enemy. Judith Rossi or whoever she was.
“How about we make this more interesting?” Gabe suggested.
“What do you mean?”
“Quid pro quo. You ask me questions you’ve been dying to know the answers to, and I shall answer them truthfully. In exchange, I will ask you for something I deem equal.”
“Okay.”
He raked his gaze over the delectable beauty named Catherine Kovac and smiled. “My apartment is only a ten-minute ride from here. We go there and you can fire your questions, at a price. One question for each article of your clothing, and if you don’t have any more clothing to bargain with, well, your body will suffice.”
He witnessed her face change from flushed to deeply flustered.
“You mean you want to sleep with me if you answer all my questions?”
“Crudely put, but yes, it’s in that ballpark.”
She was speechless. “I… I don’t know,” she finally said. “You could lie.”
“Trust me, Kitty, for a game this steep, I wouldn’t dare lie.”
“Why?”
“Because it goes against my principles. I won’t cheat my end of the bargain.”
“I mean, why do you want to sleep with me?”
“Isn’t that obvious? I find you very attractive.”
“You’re Gabriel Larousse. You only need to wiggle your finger and any gorgeous blonde within a ten-foot radius would fall at your feet willingly. You don’t need a gumshoe wannabe like me to warm your bed.”
God. She clearly had a low opinion of herself. Gabe tsked. “I don’t like blondes. Too many of them make bad jokes. And I happen to have a taste for a private eye.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “There must be more to it. I don’t believe you.”
Gabe found her amusing. She didn’t look mad because of the proposition. It seemed she distrusted him because she suspected he had an ulterior motive. Like squeezing her for information on the woman who had hired her. Spying on the spy. “If you’re going to strike a deal with someone, you have to put a little bit of trust in them. What’s the point of making a deal if you have no faith in the person you’re doing business with?”
“Touché.” She pondered. “I’ll think about it.”
Gabe couldn’t resist making clucking sounds.
A grin blossomed on her face. She didn’t seem insulted. “Fine. I’m a scaredy cat, okay? I just don’t trust it when a hunk like you suddenly thinks I’m a fine piece of meat. There must be more to it. I’m going to find out.”
“Good luck. But if you change your mind”—Gabe pulled his wallet from his pocket and plucked out a business card—“call me. This is my private number. I would be happy to make a deal with you.”
Cat took the card and gave it a thorough read. She then slipped it into her bra. Gabe watched in silence. He wished he was the card.
“Goodbye, Mr Larousse. Thank you for your generosity.”
“Until we meet again, kitty.”
“Uhm…sure.”
Sure? Gabe narrowed his eyes as he watched her retrieve her purse and walk towards the exit. His lion growled at him for letting her go. It wouldn’t be for long. He wanted her. Very badly. And he would get her. The hunt was on.
And who was this Judith Rossi who had accused him of murdering her brother?
Something fishy was going on.
No shit. Gabe scanned the club for Alex. His brother sat near the bar, nursing a glass of beer. Alex caught his eyes. Gabe motioned to him. They had a few urgent matters to discuss.
Chapter Two
Cat was on her second cup of coffee when she heard the apartment doorbell ring. She glanced at the clock. It was six forty-five a.m. She couldn’t guess who would be knocking on her door this early. Her landlord wasn’t a morning person. Neither was the building handyman. Most of her neighbours worked the graveyard shift; they were either asleep already or had just come home.
She fixed her bathrobe and padded to the front door. She looked at the peephole. A young man, dressed impeccably in a neat, black, Armani suit, stood on the other side of her door. He was the younger version of Gabriel Larousse, and she’d met him yesterday. Alexandre Larousse.
Cat opened the door.
Alex gave her a polite nod. “Good morning, Miss Kovac. May I come in?”
“How did you find out where I live? You know what? Never mind.” Cat stepped aside to let him in.
Alex brushed past Cat. He was two heads taller than her and oozed power and dominance. He studied her living room with interest. “Nice home you have.”
“Thanks. I was having breakfast. Would you like some coffee?”
“That would be lovely, thank you.”
“Okey dokey.”
He followed her into the kitchen.
Cat grabbed a clean mug and poured some coffee. “How do you take it?”
“Black. No sugar. No cream.”
How manly. Cat pushed the mug in his direction. Alex took a sip and
murmured his thanks. She sat on the stool, waiting for what he had to say.
Alex went straight to the heart of the matter. “My brother wishes to see you again. This time, he’d prefer a rather intimate setting. A dinner at Le Bernardin, tomorrow night at eight.”
“Dinner at eight? Man, I’d be starving by then.”
He cocked his head, looking a little surprised. “I could arrange an earlier time. Let’s say, six or seven?”
“Who said I want to go? Haute cuisine is so pretentious. Big plates. Little food. Totally a rip-off.”
“Perhaps you can suggest your favourite restaurant?”
“And have dinner with your brother? Yeah, rich. Thanks, but no thanks.”
“So, you’re declining his invitation?”
“Yup.”
“May I ask why?”
Because the man messed up her brain and libido, she wanted to say. “Your brother is a suspect in my investigation.”
This time, Alex’s lips stretched into an amused smile. “Of course. But Gabriel will be severely disappointed if you decline his invitation.”
“Tough luck. Nobody always gets what they want, you know?”
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to take up my brother’s offer?”
“No. Not this time.”
Alex considered.
“Is that all?” Cat asked when Alex made no move towards leaving her place any time soon.
“No.” Alex reached into his suit inner pocket and extracted a piece of paper. He pushed it across the counter.
Cat looked at it. It was a cashier’s cheque for one hundred thousand dollars, payable to her. She frowned. “What is this?”
“That one is from me personally. To drop your investigation into my brother.”
She whistled. “Bribe money?”
A light shrug. “If you prefer to call it that.”
She was stunned. “You don’t like me, do you?”
Alex’s light eyes settled on hers. “I’m not entitled to an opinion. I barely know you.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Damage control. My brother has an image he has to maintain. It’s already hard as it is, with the media assassinating his character for cheap thrills. We don’t need people like you complicating things.”
Night of the Lions Page 2
