His breath hitched, then gusted against her lips as her hands continued to glide down his torso. Oh, wow. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. There were those ridges and dips of muscles she’d tried not to stare at earlier in the day, and her heart rate skipped up a notch as she caressed his stomach down to his belt buckle. His breath whispered against her neck, across her bare shoulder, and her nipples peaked. He felt…gorgeous. She didn’t think gorgeous was a tactile state, but it was the only way she could describe what was at her fingertips.
She skimmed over his belt, and she heard him swallow.
“Uh, Mel,” he whispered, his arms trailing up her back.
Her eyelids fluttered, lifted, and she met his green gaze as her hand delved into his trouser pocket. She felt the rough metallic object there. She also felt another hard, warm object. Her cheeks flooded with heat at the sign of his obvious arousal, and his dimples peeked at her as he smiled, unabashed.
She grasped the drive. Paused. “I don’t trust you,” she whispered against him as he trailed his finger over her exposed shoulder. She shuddered. Her insides melted to liquid.
His grin broadened. “Yet you have the drive and your hand is still in my pocket.”
She chuckled, low and throaty, as she slowly withdrew her hand. She kept the drive hidden from view in the palm of her hand as she turned and weaved her way through the dancers toward the exit. Her lips lifted in a smile when she heard his groan of frustration, then his scuffing steps as he followed behind her.
He silently accompanied her to the coat check.
“I can take it from here,” she told him, calmly, although her cheeks were flushed and her heart was racing. That dance had been…hot. Her knees felt like jelly, and she just wanted to collapse. Preferably against him. Preferably onto a horizontal surface. She fanned herself. Phew.
“I’ll see you out,” he told her quietly, looking briefly over his shoulder.
“I can look after myself,” she said as the clerk handed her coat and purse to her. She immediately placed the flash drive component inside her beaded purse.
“It will make me feel better,” he said as he walked her through the club toward the car park exit.
They were silent as they left the club and walked across the car park to her car. She wracked her brain, trying to think of a witty remark, and came up empty. She rolled her eyes. Mata Hari she wasn’t. When they reached her car she turned to face him, tilting her head to meet his gaze.
“You’re here for that kiss, aren’t you?” she said, her voice husky.
Colin stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “Actually, no. You’re going to give me that kiss, not because you have to, but because you want to.”
He leaned down, his cheek gently brushing hers. Melanie’s eyes drifted shut, enjoying the soft graze of stubble and skin against her cheek, the seductive scent that wafted to her, the warmth of his body a hair’s breadth from her own. If she arched her back, her breasts would brush against the hard muscles of his chest.
“And you know what?” he whispered into her ear, his breath teasing her lobe. She trembled, trying to lock her knees into place as her nipples pebbled in her strapless bra.
“What?” she croaked. Was he still talking? What?
“It’s going to be amazing.”
A warm breeze brushed against her neck as he withdrew, and she opened her eyes to watch him saunter away, hands in his pockets, whistling.
She leaned against the car. Oh. Wow. That was all she could think. Oh. Wow.
He glanced over his shoulder, and winked. Her cheeks weren’t flushed now. No, they were burning. He’d caught her gazing after him like some dreamy schoolgirl crush.
He was…a cocky little jerk.
She straightened away from the car and fumbled in her purse for her keys. She finally found them and unlocked the car. She hit her knee when she opened the door. Ow. She slid inside and closed the door, fumbling around with the keys until the correct one made it into the ignition.
She had to get out of here before she embarrassed herself by running after him and giving him that kiss that he should have demanded, damn it. She owed it to him, right? She really should deliver on her debt. It was a question of integrity. Honour.
She tipped her head down against the steering wheel. Who am I kidding? She was hot for a guy she didn’t know, didn’t trust, and instead of scaring the hell out of her, it excited her.
“So, how are we related again?” Gabe asked from the backseat. His head brushed the interior roof of the car, and Randall seemed to find every bump in the road, but the big hulking man made no complaint.
Esme twisted in the front seat to look at him, a soft smile on her face as she fumbled in her purse. “It’s complicated. Your mother and…” she flicked something shimmery at him, and Gabe blinked.
“Oh, okay.” He smiled and turned to look out the window. “Hey, did I tell you about my turtles? I like turtles. I built a special little place…”
Randall reached over and delved inside her purse, never taking his eyes off the road.
“Randall,” Esme protested.
‘Randall’ ignored her and tossed a fistful of shimmery powder over the backseat.
Gabe started giggling, then sighed, a goofy smile on his face as he stared off into space.
Esme gasped in horror. “Gabriel?” She reached over and waved her hand in front of his face. Gabe didn’t blink.
“Rump! Why did you do that?”
Randall glimmered, disappeared, and in his place sat the golden-skinned imp. Rumpelstiltskin frowned at her briefly.
“You heard him, he was going to talk about those blasted turtles again.”
“You’ve used too much! He’s in a fairy fog. It’s going to take ages for him to wake up from that. He’s useless now.”
Gabe giggled, and started batting at the air, as though a fly was bothering him.
”What do you mean, now?” Rumpelstiltskin muttered. “This is your Frog Prince?”
Esme flashed, and Esmerelda glared back at him. “Yes, he is. We don’t get to reason why particular souls are selected for the fairy tales, we just know that they are.”
“If you ask me, our princess is dodging a troll spear by not engaging with this moron. Turtles.” Rumpelstiltskin snorted.
Esmerelda’s wings fluttered. “See, you don’t get it. This is why we are here. Melanie needs to learn her lesson. Gabriel needs to find his princess. We’re supposed to help them, not send them tripping on fairy dust,” she said, waving a hand at Gabe. “We have to get the fairy tale back to where it should be.”
Rumpelstiltskin waved his hands, and the car continued to drive itself as he twisted to face her. “You always were a stickler for the rule book, weren’t you, Essie? Never questioning why, just do as you are bid.”
“And you’re the rule-breaker, aren’t you, Rump? No matter what you harm or who you hurt, it’s all about what makes you feel good.” She frowned at him, confounded. “How is it that they let you out on work release?”
“Good behaviour.”
She stared at him for a moment. “I find that hard to believe.”
Rumpelstiltskin shrugged. “I’ve changed, Essie.”
She folded her arms and tapped her long blue nails against her forearms.
“I really want to help these…these humans,” he said, quietly. Sincerely.
She arched an eyebrow.
He held up his hands. “Fine. Confinement was driving me crazy. I would agree to pretty much anything to get out.”
Esmerelda rolled her eyes. “Great. An imp busting loose.” She glanced briefly over her shoulder at Gabe. He was holding his hands in front of his face.
“Wow, these are fantastic,” he said, eyes wide as he looked at his fingers.
She turned back to the imp. “Well, if this is you in action, it won’t be long before you find yourself back in Confinement.”
Rumpelstiltskin reached over and snapped his fingers in front of the
young man’s face, but he couldn’t seem to distract him from his fascinated investigation of his hands.
“Well, what do we do, now?”
Esmerelda sighed. “You’ll need to try and keep Melanie away from The Interferer. Meanwhile, I’ll work on a potion to try and wake up Gabe here.”
The imp nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Bet you’ve missed this, Essie. Us. Working together.” He grinned, and Esmerelda blinked. He really was….charming. His skin was beginning to lose a little of its dullness, and the cracks looked to be slowly disappearing. He was getting stronger. Tempting. Wickedly attractive.
Esmerelda frowned. No. Not attractive. Never again. While she worked on Gabe’s potion, she’d also whip up some protection port for herself. She wasn’t going to succumb to Rump’s powers again.
“Don’t call me Essie. I’m here to do a job, Rump. Not clean up your messes.”
Rumpelstiltskin eyed her consideringly. “Who says I’ve made a mess, Essie? This is all part of my grand plan. To help Turtle Man, here,” he said as an afterthought as Gabe huddled over in his seat.
“I think I can see up my nose!” the human exclaimed, and Rumpelstiltskin rolled his eyes.
Esmerelda’s eyes narrowed. Instincts and experience had taught her that nothing was ever as it seemed when Rump was involved. What was the imp up to?
Chapter 10
Melanie stood at the printer and pulled out the test flyer she’d printed. It was…okay. For a black and white printout. She frowned. They could do so much with this business. Direct mail campaigns, newsletters—but Randall was very old fashioned. Less cost, less waste. This property, though, was lovely. It deserved a colour flyer.
“Randall?” Melanie walked back out to the office area.
Randall looked up from the newspaper he was reading. “Yes, Melanie?”
“Why don’t we get a colour printer? We could do some great flyers and brochures, then.”
Randall made a face. “I don’t think so.”
“Colour flyers are more eye-catching,” she commented. Was she seriously having this conversation—in this day and age? Her boss still wouldn’t spring for a website. She knew they could afford that, at least.
Randall shook his head. “No. There is nothing wrong with that printer. We’ll keep it.”
Melanie sat down at her desk. Normally she’d just nod and get back to work, but it was late Saturday afternoon. She didn’t normally work on the weekend but Randall had called her in, she’d already been there for hours and she wasn’t in the mood to be docile.
“Why not? We seriously need to upgrade some resources in this office, Randall.”
Randall sighed as he closed the newspaper. “No. If I get a colour printer, then your flyers will look nice. People will take them from the caddy. More people will see them. They’ll come and take some from the caddy. Word will get around that we have nice flyers, people will want to sell their homes with us because of our nice flyers. We’ll have so much business I’ll have to hire another agent. Then I’ll have to pay this agent to sell, pay his commissions, we’ll get more properties, I’ll have to hire another property manager, and I’m still paying for all that paper and colour ink—you know colour ink doesn’t come cheap. No. I think we’ll stick with black and white. Much easier.”
Melanie was glad she was sitting down for that explanation. “Are you serious?”
Randall rose from his desk, nodding. “Yes. You want to go waste all that paper? Haven’t you heard about the green gas hole?” Randall tsked as he shuffled toward the door. “All those trees. I’m leaving for that open house inspection now. I’ll see you later.”
And he left.
Melanie stared at the glass door, her jaw slack. That was…mind-boggling. Then she frowned. What open house inspection?
Cole glanced around the patio. For a quiet gathering of close friends, the group was quite large. He estimated about thirty people were gathered in and around the wrap-around terrace. He leaned on the balcony and took in the view. Lowry’s house was located on the tip of Bald Face Peninsula, overlooking the Georges River. The panorama was stunning, offering views toward the Tom Ugly’s and Captain Cook Bridges. He glanced down. There was even a very large, very stately yacht moored to a private pontoon. Fraud and corruption paid well, Cole observed.
He took a sip of his chilled beer. The forensic finance unit had already had a look at the documents found on Melanie’s flash disk. They’d found a list of properties that Lowry had managed to purchase on the quiet for below market price. There were still a few residences holding out, but local police reports in the Fairy Meadow area had shown an increase in crime and violence in the area. When cross-referenced with Lowry’s lists, it was interesting to note the crime sprees seemed to be popping up around the properties he had yet to buy.
And that information had come from Melanie. The beer left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. How had she known? How involved was she in the scare campaign? In the re-development project? She worked in real estate. Was she going to be selling the apartments after they were built? Based on the information in those documents, the forensic finance expert he’d spoken with had indicated a profit margin of tens of millions of dollars.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. Lowry was using a shell company in China to order top quality materials. Only Cole had checked at the site he was working at—the materials there were inferior, perhaps even sub-standard. Lowry’s investors thought they were paying for a quality development, and were getting cheap rubbish instead. They just needed to prove that Lowry knew this.
“Hello, Colin, so glad you could make it.”
Cole straightened and turned to face Lowry and his partner, Robert Dunn. He saluted them with his beer bottle. “Thanks for inviting me.”
Dunn folded his arms, resting them on the gut that hung over the plaid shorts the man was wearing. “Lionel tells me you’re looking for more work?”
If that meant a chance to see some of their illegal activities, hell, yeah. Cole nodded. “You could say that.”
“I saw from your resume that you’ve had some trouble with the law,” Dunn said, tipping his head. The man looked at him sourly. Probably still chafing over his interference with Melanie at the fundraiser the other night.
Cole nodded. The fraud squad had given him a fake rap sheet that would make his mother cry. “Only a little,” he demurred.
Lionel glanced out at the sparkling waters of the river below. “Well, see Cole, occasionally we have…ad-hoc duties that need a special touch.”
Cole met the man’s gaze. There was interest, challenge, and something dark, sobering. He was beginning to see the shark behind the suit.
“I’m a labourer. I don’t mind getting my hands dirty, especially if there is a little extra cash involved.”
Lionel’s lips parted in a smile. “Ah, good. Well, we might have a job for you.”
Cole hid his triumph. They were taking the bait. “Great.”
“Let’s go to my office for a more private chat,” Lionel suggested, and stood aside for Cole to precede him into the house.
They were crossing the patio to enter through the large entertainer’s kitchen when Melanie walked up the steps from the drive. She halted when she saw all the people gathered at her home. Her lips parted a little when she noticed Cole.
“Melanie, I thought you’d be here earlier,” Lionel commented, and even Cole could hear the reproach in the man’s voice.
“I couldn’t get away from work,” she said by way of explanation as she headed into the kitchen. She glanced around. “Where’s Mum?”
“She’s having a lie-down, she wasn’t feeling up to company.”
Cole noticed the slight elevation of her shoulders, the tensing of the muscles along her jaw. “I see. I’ll go up and see how she is.”
“You do that. Then maybe you could come and say hello to our guests.”
“And lover boy, here,” Dunn interjected.
Melanie lowered her sunglasses
and shot Cole a curious look. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“I’m full of surprises,” he told her.
“That you are.” She gestured to the door. “I’d better check on Mum.”
“Hurry back,” Lionel called after her, and turned to grab three bottles of beer from the ice-filled esky by the door. He missed the mutinous glare Melanie shot over her shoulder as she left, but Cole didn’t.
Interesting.
“Come, let’s talk business,” Lionel said, and beckoned Cole toward the door, and Dunn dropped in behind to follow.
Chapter 11
“So let me get this straight. You want me to go and ‘convince’ the old couple to leave?” Cole said, picking his words carefully.
Lionel nodded. “Yes. They won’t sell. You need to give them a reason to sell.”
Cole frowned. The couple were in their seventies, damn it. “How?”
“Use your imagination,” Dunn snapped from his position by the door. They were in Lowry’s study. Lots of dark timber, leather and stone finishes. He eyed the painting hanging above the fireplace. It depicted some Greek or Roman god, reclining on a bed with a naked woman. It was surprisingly tasteful, for a crook.
“Do they have any pets?”
Dunn shook his head. “No. I’ve already taken care of them, but it still wasn’t enough to make them want to leave.” He pointed the neck of his beer bottle at Cole. “You need to make it so they want to get the hell out of there, yesterday. Think you can do it?”
Cole nodded. “Sure.” These men were twisted. They were talking about an elderly, defenceless couple, for crying out loud.
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