Playing with Fire

by Graziano, Renee

  This man was, hands down, a rule-breaker.

  The worst sort of man for her.

  But fuck, she liked his smile. It was a really boyish mesmerizing curve of his lips, though cute would never apply to his sophisticated image. Maybe it would be better described as deliberate, and as a rule she was absolutely not susceptible to that. She could seduce, but she couldn’t be seduced.

  At least before this moment.

  “I’m Nick,” he said in a low, smooth whiskey voice. Just a hint of some place other than New York in there. Italy maybe. It was hard to place.

  “Reign. Think royalty and not weather.” She took his fingers and judged the tensile strength there. No attempt to convince her he was a man by crushing hers—thank God—but enough pressure to let her know he was interested. She’d already gathered that, yet it was good to know he could play on the nice side of the team.

  Unless he needed to play it rough. She hated herself a little for the flicker of interest. All her life, it had been this delicate balance between the good guys and the bad ones, but that wasn’t so easy, she was discovering.

  Some men were mostly bad. She’d met them, shunned them, and ran the other way as fast as she could whenever possible. Some thought they were good—she almost hated those self-righteous bastards even more—but she was in her thirties now, and one truth just kept popping up.

  No one was all good, and no one was all bad. That was unfortunate. It would make it so much easier to make wise choices.

  Around them the room worked, the people moving, the conversations humming, the music playing—something low, Puccini’s “O Mio Babbino Caro,” she thought—and a waiter passed with a plate of stuffed mushrooms, but they both shook their heads.

  “Interesting first name,” he said.

  “My parents were a little eccentric as a couple.”

  He let go of her hand with a deliberate reluctance. “Can you tell me that story over a drink?”

  Joey had already left, maneuvering away from them, taking the future Mrs. Hanover and her prey with him. No one could work a room like Joe. It wasn’t like Reign and the new arrival were alone, but apparently he’d read the signs and decided to give them some space.

  She read the signs too.

  Mr. Fattelli had asked for an introduction. Reign weighed her response, and the pause was long enough for him to acknowledge it. Good. She wanted him to know she didn’t talk to every guy that hit on her. The gleam of amusement in his eyes settled the deal. She said, “Johnnie Walker Black. Rocks, please.”

  “I like the lady’s choice. Be right back.”

  She watched him go to the bar, saw him flash that killer smile at the female bartender who definitely returned it, and then he was shouldering his way back through the crowd, drinks in hand. He drank bourbon neat, she noted, two fingers in his glass.

  “Thank you.” Their fingers brushed as she accepted the drink, and she caught his gaze for a moment.

  “Terrace?” he suggested. “It’s a little difficult to carry on a conversation in here.”

  She took a sip and nodded. People were watching them already, but she didn’t care too much as he moved back politely to let her walk in front of him through the open glass doors.

  A gentleman. That scored him a point.

  They were hardly alone there either, but then again, it was a warm clear night. Still, it was a lot more intimate than the jammed apartment. Mostly there were couples, standing around talking.

  “Reign?” he prompted, his eyes inquiring. “Your name? You promised me the story.”

  She lifted her shoulders. Why not tell him? “My mother’s idea. I think the basic concept was that every single day I should be reminded that I am in charge of my own life. Not to let anyone tell me what to do and when to do it. Reign Supreme. Supreme. Can you believe that is my given middle name?”

  “I admit that’s a new one to me. Do you live up to it?” His hand moved his glass casually to his mouth, and he took a small drink, watching her.

  Hell yes, I do.

  “I think Joey will confirm I do. Tell me, Mr. Fattelli, what do you do?”

  “I’m an investment banker.”

  “Just that?”

  “Mostly.”

  A little oblique. Well, maybe he was into finance, but she knew that wasn’t all he was from the dangerous glitter in his eyes.

  If he was too evasive, she’d be smart to walk away. Her career was going well, and though not having an active romance wasn’t perfect in her estimation, it wasn’t bad either. She loved her job and people left her alone. She moved in the inner circles but did not actually have to be part of them.

  All of it under control. Well, most of the time. The lure of the Life existed. It was practically all she knew. It stood in front of her at the moment in the guise of a handsome man with those striking eyes.… He represented danger, and she had the golden ticket for that ride.

  She knew at that moment she was going to go home with him and give him the fuck of the century.

  Bad boys were a weakness of hers, and she had the feeling he was a very bad boy indeed. Before he could answer the question, she said abruptly, “No. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know after all. Is there any chance you want to give me a ride home?”

  Chapter

  TWO

  She didn’t live in Manhattan, but on Staten Island, so the drive was not exactly short.

  He didn’t really care.

  Nick was interested in the lady, not her house. Those remarkable emerald eyes, for one, drew him in. She seemed to have almost a feline capacity to study him in a way that didn’t let him know in the least what she was thinking.

  Rule one: always be able to read the mind of your opponent.

  He couldn’t quite read her.

  “What?” Reign asked when they crossed the bridge, her voice holding a hint of amusement. She crossed her elegant legs and he heard the whisper of silk. If he was a betting man, he’d swear she wore stockings and garters just to tantalize every man who came within her sphere … but maybe no panties?

  That was sexy alone. A mini-fantasy. If she did wear them, he thought while trying to look casual, they would be something slinky and black, but her ass was memorable in that tight-fitting dress without a hint of a line.…

  Black thong to match all that long, shining hair? Call it a personal weakness, but he did like long hair and hers was sleek and pure ebony. He wanted to touch it, but there was a much bigger problem at hand.

  Who the fuck wanted her dead and why?

  “I was thinking about your underwear.” He said it candidly and with a slight grin. “Sorry. Guy thing.”

  Streetlights flashed by, and he wondered if he might not get a smack in the face for being so honest, but after a moment she burst out laughing. “You were sitting there with that look on your face because you were curious about my lingerie?”

  “I never said I was deep.” He raised his brows and expertly passed a city bus that was about to pull out. Driving these streets meant you needed to pay attention.

  She sobered. “That is a lie. Don’t try and fool someone who has trotted around this planet a time or two. You are extremely deep, Nicky.” Her brows rose. “Do you mind if I call you that? We are, after all, discussing my underwear. The familiarity shouldn’t bother you.”

  He could give back smartass. “As of this moment, I know nothing about your underwear, so I am not sure we should be giving each other nicknames.” Damn her, he was getting a hard-on. It wasn’t that he didn’t like women—he loved women—but he knew she was doing it deliberately and he never fell for that crap.

  Maybe until now.

  Her calf was perfection. Completely female in the curve, and his gaze followed it up to where her skirt met her knee. He really needed to pay attention to his driving.

  She hiked up her skirt just a notch above those smooth thighs right at that moment. Still no underwear in sight—unfortunately not that high—but he was getting the idea. Reign said c
oolly, “I like how you look and move. You’re going to have to take my word I don’t do this with every man I meet, and maybe you don’t care one way or the other, but when we get to our destination, I’d like to invite you in.”

  She slightly spread her legs and Nick sucked in a deep breath. Nothing unladylike in her movement, just crossing her legs on the other side, but the way she did it implied that “in” did not mean her apartment.

  Oh, she was doing everything right. Playing him. He still couldn’t see if she was wearing panties or not, and for now the fantasy eclipsed the reality anyway. Luckily, if he adjusted his jacket, she couldn’t see how aroused he was, but then again, he was pretty sure she knew.

  “I’d like to come in,” he said, chagrined his voice held a slight hoarseness. That was embarrassing. He was known for being cold as ice.

  This woman was trouble.

  His entire working life he’d been warned he should watch for that one.

  The target that made you weak. His father had explained it to him when he was in his teens in succinct terms. It wasn’t like he hadn’t already suspected maybe his parent didn’t have a regular nine to five, but it was a little bit of a shock to know he was being groomed to take over the family business.

  You have two lives. Like everyone else, son. One in which you do the job, and one in which you have the other entity. Father, son, brother. It isn’t any different than being a race car driver or the CEO of a company.… Those occupations aren’t quite understood by people who don’t do them, so just look at it with that attitude and you’ll be fine.

  But someday you might doubt yourself. You will find that one mark you can’t hit because of emotional involvement. Just decline the job and walk away. What happens next is not your problem.

  But it was in a certain way. He was trying to make sense of this and not having any luck so far. She wasn’t a logical target. It bothered him and he hated loose ends.

  She murmured, “Good. We understand each other pretty well right away. I like that. Where are you from anyway? I’ve been trying to place your accent but can’t quite put my finger on it.”

  “I’m of Italian descent.”

  “Believe it or not, I figured that out already.” Her voice was dry. “And I’ve met men like you before. That translates directly to: I will never tell you who I am exactly, so maybe you shouldn’t ask too many questions.”

  “Smart girl.”

  “Woman. I promise you I haven’t been a girl for a very long time, Nicky.”

  His gaze dropped to her full breasts in a deliberate stare. “I stand corrected. Woman. Yep. Totally agree.”

  Softly she said, “I’ll help you out with that in a few minutes.”

  “What?”

  “Your hard-on.”

  “What makes you think…” It was a reflex to want to deny it, but he had just shifted on the seat again, and actually, it was true, so after a moment he just looked into those emerald eyes and murmured instead, “I’m really looking forward to it.”

  She reached out and deftly flicked his jacket open, pressing her hand between his legs as if measuring the length of his erection. “Uhm, nice.”

  It felt good. A little too good, and he liked her bold sense of self. Not flamboyant—that usually turned him off rather than on—but alluring because she was confident and sexy.

  He removed her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing her palm. “Why do I have the feeling this is going to be a very enjoyable evening?”

  “How flattering. Smarter than you look.”

  “That is one hell of a backhanded compliment, Ms. Reign Supreme. How do I come across?”

  “Dangerous. And you know it. Oh hell, be careful.”

  He narrowly missed a cab, hearing the blare of the horn. He probably did deserve the finger on that one.

  * * *

  Reign withdrew her hand and murmured, “That was close. Sorry.”

  “You are kind of a distracting passenger.” An understatement.

  “I doubt that you aren’t aware of my family’s business ventures.”

  Someday his heart rate would return to normal. “That makes me look stupid?”

  “I never said that, did I? I think the implication was that involvement with me can be a risk, and at first impression you seem like a man who plans his every move.”

  Nick laughed, paying a lot more attention to his driving. “Why do I feel like we are talking in circles here?”

  “Maybe a little. How often do you tell the truth Mr. I’m-of-Italian-Descent?”

  “Never,” he said and touched her. Just a slight resting of his hand on her thigh, but when she didn’t object, he slid his hand up under her skirt—hell, she’d done it essentially to him—and found the answer to his question.

  No underwear.

  And she was wet. He slipped two fingers inside her easily, and she made a small very sexy sound.

  How perfect. He was hard as hell and she was ready for it.

  * * *

  He drove a Bentley, wore tailored clothing, but Reign was fairly street-smart and knew that her first impression was absolutely correct. Pure bad boy, through and through.

  Why the hell that made the game more exciting she’d have to examine later, but introspection, she’d learned over the course of what so far was a colorful life, was not necessarily a good tactic.

  So, she said to herself, don’t think about this too much.

  He’d be good in bed. She knew it. He did something interesting with his thumb that made her inner muscles tighten in response while he still managed to drive with skillful attention after their near miss.

  Finesse. Not all men had it. Reign had never been interested in selfish lovers. Lifelong commitment? Not necessary. It wasn’t that she didn’t desire that someday.… But she’d been betrayed once—badly—and as a result, she’d acquired some very good defensive skills and a more worldly view of life.

  “That’s nice.” She moved a little against his hand. “Hopefully, it’s a promise of a memorable evening.”

  “I’ll take good care of you.” He looked into her eyes as he slid his hand out from between her legs.

  Oh, he better. Trust was earned, not just given freely.

  It was the rule by which she lived her life.

  She had no desire to get burned and the resolve to make sure it didn’t happen.

  Reign moved her skirt down a few inches. “I was hoping you might. Words are just words though. Deliver.”

  Nick smiled, gorgeous in his expensive suit, his posture relaxed. “I intend to.”

  Then he licked his fingers.

  Slowly. Like he savored the intimate taste of her. And maybe he did, for he started to set his hand on her knee again, and Reign stopped him. “I’m pretty sure you can do that better in my bedroom, and we’re almost there.”

  “I hope it’s damned close.”

  “Are we in a hurry?”

  “I am.”

  “Then you’re in luck.” She pointed. “This is it. Park in the drive if you want.”

  “Here? A house?”

  Yes, a house. Not a ritzy apartment in a high-rise building downtown with a gym, rooftop deck, and doorman. She owned a house because her son deserved the best upbringing possible. She liked it too. Two stories and brick, with great landscaping—not that she had the time, she paid someone to do that—but it was perfect for her right now. Maybe, when Vince left for college, she’d choose something else, but for now … home.

  Vince was away with friends who owned a vacation home on Long Island, and she was getting a taste of that freedom. She adored her only child, but this break might just be what nudged her to invite a sexy stranger home for the first time in … she couldn’t remember.

  “I like the quiet.”

  Nick parked, slid out of the driver’s seat, and went around to open her door. “Fine with me.” He took her arm as they went up the steps to the front door. “Nice place.”

  She could tell him that her father had loan
ed her the money for the down payment, and she’d worked two jobs to make it happen because she’d paid every single dime back, but she tended to be a private person when it came to financial information.

  To any personal information, really. And all she knew about him was that he had a damned sexy smile.

  “Thanks.” She unlocked the front door and went to press a button to disarm the alarm system, but the light wasn’t blinking and she didn’t hear the beep to signal she should turn it off. Maybe she’d forgotten to turn it on; she’d been in kind of a hurry when she’d left. “That’s strange. The alarm system is disarmed.”

  “Ever happen before?” Nick’s voice was casual but his stance suddenly wasn’t. Like a light flicking on.

  “Not that I can recall but I admit I might have forgotten. I was late for the party.” She really had been. “Care for a drink?”

  He looked around the foyer and she didn’t mistake that sweeping appraisal. Rule two: available exits accounted for. Nick said pleasantly, “If you’re having one, I will too, but don’t go to any trouble.”

  Reign dropped her keys in a bowl on a polished marquetry table. “I might. Or I might not want to wait.”

  “However you want to play it.”

  Good answer. She liked having control. Stepping out of her heels, one by one, she deliberately gave him a nice view of her ass as she bent over to set her shoes aside. “That’s better.”

  “That’s perfect,” he said with proper appreciation, one shoulder braced against the wall. “You know, I think I’m more hungry than thirsty.”

  “We could order a pizza.” Her tone was facetious because she knew exactly what he meant.

  “Yeah, well, I was thinking of something a little different.” He straightened, and she had to admire the smoothness of the lithe masculine movement.

  “As in?”

  “I’ve had a taste of you. I liked it.” He reached for her, but did it slowly enough she didn’t take a reflexive step back. “Can we explore the possibilities?” Nick’s hands settled on her shoulders. “I like exploring.” His mouth on her neck was warm and teasing. “Care to guide me to the closest bed?”