by Lisa Childs
“Is that why you pissed me off today?” he asked. It had felt as if she’d done it deliberately, like she’d purposely made him talk about his past, like she’d deliberately exposed his vulnerabilities.
She was every bit as dangerous as Simon had warned him she was.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“So you did do it on purpose?”
She was quiet for a while, long enough that he took it for an admission.
“Why?”
“You’re getting too close.”
To what? To the truth? Or to her?
He gestured toward the foyer. “You didn’t mind when I was inside you.” His cock hardened at the memory of how it had felt, buried deep within her. “Can’t get much closer than that.”
“Yes, you can,” she said. “That’s why you got upset with me—because I pried.”
“I got upset because you want me to ditch my practice and my friends.”
She tilted her head, and her eyes narrowed as she studied his face. “But if you win an election, you’re going to have to leave the practice—maybe even the city. I thought that was what you wanted.”
Damn it!
He had roused her suspicions again. He could see them in her blue eyes. “I want you,” he said and he reached across the counter for her hand.
But she curled it into a fist. “What do you want me for?” she asked. “Sex or to help you become a viable candidate for office?”
“Both,” he replied instinctively. He really just wanted the sex.
And proof. That was what he wanted more than anything. Proof that she was the mole. But the thought had his stomach flipping with dread. Now he didn’t want it to be her. But there was no other viable candidate.
He smiled. “You really think I could win an election?”
She nodded. “Yes. Your backstory. The work you’ve done. Unlike your partners, you’ve taken cases where you represent the clear victim. You’re David taking on Goliath.”
He snorted. “Really?”
She looked at him, her gaze running over his body. He’d pulled on his shirt, but he hadn’t done up the buttons. Her gaze felt like a caress of his chest. And she murmured, “Maybe more like Goliath taking on Goliath.”
“And you think that’ll make people vote for me?”
She nodded.
He held in a laugh. The politics thing had just been a ploy to get closer to her. But to think that he actually had a chance...
It was ridiculous to him. But he didn’t want her to see that he had no intention of running for anything but her. He had no problem running for her.
But he wasn’t sure if he should run toward her or away from her. “How is it that you know so much about politics, Allison?” he asked. “Especially given how you hate politicians.”
She sighed, and her shoulders slumped in resignation. Was he finally going to get the truth out of her?
His pulse quickened with excitement—with anticipation. He’d been close to her physically. But getting to know her secrets...
That was even more intimate than sex.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” she replied.
“So you don’t hate politicians?” he asked. “What about lawyers?”
She glared at him. “You’re not going to let any of that go, are you?”
Not when it could be her motive for turning against them. He shook his head.
She reached for the glass of wine he’d poured her while she’d changed. But her hand trembled slightly, and the wine sloshed around in her glass. After taking a deep sip, she said, “You’re right. I did change my name.”
“You took your mother’s name,” he said.
She shook her head. “I took my grandfather’s name.”
And he heard the fierce loyalty in her voice. “I take it he wasn’t a lawyer or politician?”
She shook her head. “Just a hard worker who eventually started his own business and provided manufacturing jobs to other hard workers.”
“What did he manufacture?”
“What didn’t he,” she murmured with a proud smile.
Her grandfather must have been an incredible man. But what about her father?
“What was wrong with the name you were born with?” he asked.
She sighed. “It changed too many times.”
“What? Have you been married?” And he felt that annoying surge of jealousy again at the thought of her loving a man enough to become his wife.
“Not me,” she said with a shudder as if she found the very thought of marriage repulsive. “My mother has had many husbands and she would convince every one of them to adopt me and give me their name.”
His stomach lurched again but it was with sympathy for the life she must have lived. “What about your real father? He was okay with that?”
She shrugged. “Must have been. He never fought it. Guess he was just glad to be rid of her.”
But he hadn’t just been rid of his wife; he’d been rid of his daughter, too. Trev felt a sudden affinity with Allison. She had also been abandoned. And not just by one parent, it seemed.
“Was your father a lawyer?” he asked.
She nodded.
“And a politician?”
She shook her head. “That was my first stepfather. My mother married him because my father wasn’t able to cross over into politics. He represents the Goliath companies you’ve taken on—the ones with special interests voters don’t trust. They didn’t trust my father.”
And apparently, neither did she.
“And your stepfather?”
She sighed. “He might have won if not for my mother.”
He was even more intrigued now. “Why’s that?”
“You would have to meet my mother to truly understand why,” she said. “But it was a good thing he and her other husbands never made her the first lady like she wanted to be. She probably would have been beheaded for something bitchy she said.”
“Marie-Antoinette?”
She nodded. “That’s my mother. Grandpa always regretted spoiling her like he had. That was why he cut her out of his will.” She took a long swallow of her wine. “Which is why she no longer speaks to me.”
Because Allison had inherited and she hadn’t.
“I’m sorry,” Trevor said.
“For what?” she asked. “For prying?”
He wasn’t sorry about that; he needed to learn everything he could about her so he could find out why she was the mole and prove it. “I’m sorry I upset you.”
She shook her head. “I’m not upset.”
But she was. And she looked scared, as well.
“Bullshit.” He called her on the lie as she had called him on his.
She slid off the stool at the counter and pointed toward the door. He didn’t think it was because she wanted to repeat what they’d done there, which she confirmed when she told him, “Leave.”
He flinched. He hadn’t just upset her; he’d pissed her off. Maybe he’d pushed too hard, had made her say too much.
“Allison—”
“Get out!” she yelled.
He felt that sick feeling all over again. He didn’t want to leave her—not like this. But that wasn’t the only problem. He was beginning to realize that he didn’t want to leave her at all—even though she was the mole.
CHAPTER EIGHT
PANIC RUSHED OVER ALLISON, leaving her trembling and clammy. She had never been as afraid as she was now. She wasn’t worried that Trevor would physically hurt her.
But she was worried about emotionally.
She’d broken her own rule. She was starting to feel.
And she hated it.
“Get out!” she shouted at him again.
He flinched as if she’d struck him. She was tempted. She
’d balled her hand into a fist when he’d tried to hold it earlier. She nearly swung it at him now.
But she already felt too out of control. She should have refused to tell him anything. It wasn’t as if she’d been called to testify and had had to answer any of his questions—truthfully or otherwise.
“I’m sorry,” Trev said again, his deep voice calming as if he was trying to soothe a child. “I’m sorry I brought up a sore subject.”
She shook her head. “That’s not it.”
And it wasn’t. The past couldn’t hurt her anymore. But the present and the future could. She was worried about that, about letting him get too close.
“You’re not upset that your mother no longer speaks to you?” he asked.
She laughed. “You obviously don’t know my mother. It’s much better when she doesn’t speak to you than when she does.” That was probably why her grandfather had done what he had—to protect Allison.
She studied his face. “What about you? Have you ever heard from your mother since she left?”
“She called a few times,” he said, “when Wally was still alive. But she felt so guilty about leaving me that I assured her I would be fine and she didn’t need to keep calling.”
That fear gripped Allison again. She could not fall for Trevor Sinclair. Sure, maybe he wasn’t like her father had been. Maybe he didn’t lie and make promises he had no intention of keeping.
But she couldn’t be certain of that. She’d already caught him in a couple of lies—about snooping into her past. Why was that so important to him?
“What are you really up to?” she asked.
His green eyes widened in innocence. Feigned innocence? “What do you mean?” he asked.
“You love Street Legal and your friends.”
He nodded. “That’s true.”
“Then why would you consider leaving them?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I may not have to if I win something here in the city. And who’s to say I would even win...”
“I do,” she said. “I know you would.” He was that viable a candidate. Voters would love him. Just voters.
Not her. She could not fall for a man like him, one her mother would have loved.
He snorted. “Why are you so sure?”
“If you did everything I told you to,” she said, “if you distanced yourself from Street Legal’s bad press now, you would definitely win.”
But that was clearly something he wasn’t willing to do.
“I’ll think about it,” he murmured. “But we’ve talked enough about business. Let’s get back to pleasure.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s late. You need to leave.”
He had to go now—because she was too vulnerable, her emotions too close to the surface.
But he shook his head. “I’m not leaving, Allison.”
“Why?” she asked. “What do you want with me?” Because he wanted something. Her every instinct was shouting at her to protect herself—that he was going to hurt her. And she had no idea why.
* * *
Trev winced as he saw the suspicion enter Allison’s eyes, turning the pale blue to ice. He couldn’t risk her figuring out what he was up to—that he was onto her. He stepped closer and lowered his head to hers.
But she planted her fisted hand against his chest, holding him back and asked again, “What are you up to?”
“Nothing,” he replied—probably too quickly—because her eyes narrowed even more.
And she asked again, “What do you want with me?”
“I want you,” he said. And it was no lie. His body ached with desire for hers, to be with her again. “I want to be with you...”
Her breath escaped in a shaky sigh. “Trevor...”
She was torn. He could tell. She wanted him, too, but he’d scared her. He’d pushed too hard for information about her. But he hadn’t learned enough yet. He hadn’t learned why she would be the mole.
To get back at her father? Or her stepfathers?
He and his partners sounded nothing like those men. Except for him...since he’d claimed he wanted to run for office. He was the one most like the men from her past—the men who’d hurt her.
And by bringing all that up, he had probably hurt her now. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I shouldn’t have pried.”
“It was none of your business,” she said.
But he shook his head. “No. You are my business, Allison.” And not just because she was probably the mole. There had always been something about her that had intrigued him. He’d thought then it had been the challenge she’d represented with her ice queen persona.
But now that he knew that was just a facade, he was even more intrigued.
“Business,” she repeated. “That’s what we should have stuck to.”
“Hell, no!” he protested. He’d much rather give up their business relationship than their personal one.
But she shook her head. “It was stupid mixing business with pleasure.”
“Why?” he asked. Was she starting to have feelings for him?
“Because now you won’t take me seriously,” she said. “You won’t listen to what I have to say about revamping your image.”
“You think that’s because we had sex?” he asked.
She nodded.
“It has nothing to do with that.” It was because he had no damn intention of running for anything. But he couldn’t tell her that so he made another confession, of sorts. “I’m just struggling with letting someone else have the wheel, you know? With doing what you say.”
Especially when there was no way in hell that he was ever going to leave the practice and his friends.
Her brow furrowed slightly as if she wasn’t buying it.
“I think I need to ease into this,” he said. “Why don’t we start with my having to do whatever you tell me in our first arrangement?”
She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “What are you saying? That you will do whatever I tell you to do?”
He swallowed hard. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. But he nodded. “In sex. Just sex.”
But it wasn’t exactly just sex with them anymore—at least not for Trev.
Finally, her brow smoothed, and her lips curved into a smile that was nearly as sadistic as it was sexy.
He was definitely in trouble.
“Okay,” she said. “But you have to do whatever I tell you to do...”
And he felt that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach again. He had a feeling he’d just made another mistake with her. Allison McCann was a very dangerous woman but now she was a very dangerous woman in control.
* * *
She was in control. So if she told him to leave again, he would have to do what she said. But now she wasn’t so certain she wanted him to leave.
She’d never had power like this and never over a man as powerful as Trevor Sinclair. Of course, she didn’t expect him to keep his promise.
But it would be fun to watch him try.
“So can I stay?” he asked.
She nodded. “But only if you do everything I tell you.”
He hesitated a long moment before nodding. And she heard him mutter, “Why do I think I’m going to regret this?”
She was worried that she would, too. Every time she had sex with Trevor Sinclair she felt closer to him than she had ever felt to anyone else.
It was more than sex, though. They connected on another level.
Maybe it was just because some parts of their pasts were surprisingly similar. She hadn’t had to work when she was as young as he’d been. And she’d never lived on the streets. But she knew that sense of abandonment he must have felt when his mother left for Hollywood.
That was all in the past. They weren’t kids anymore. They didn’t need anyone.
Allison’s stomach tightened and her core ached with need...for him.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“I’d tell you to clean up the kitchen,” she said. “But that has nothing to do with sex.”
“It does if you want me to take you on the counter,” he said.
She smiled. “Oh, you’re not going to be taking me,” she warned him. “I’m going to be taking you.”
Trevor closed his eyes and groaned. “What the hell did I get myself into?”
She laughed. “You have no idea.”
Yet. But she intended to give him plenty of ideas on how to please her. He started by cleaning up the kitchen.
“When you’re done here,” she told him, “meet me in the bedroom.”
She knew he’d be quick, so she didn’t have much time to get ready for him. She changed quickly into an outfit she’d bought weeks ago.
It had been an impulse buy. Or maybe a guilt buy since the woman modeling this line of lingerie was one about whom Allison had unknowingly spread lies. She would have never issued the statements she had if she’d known the truth.
But maybe she’d so readily accepted those lies herself because of her past, because of her mother.
Damn Trevor for bringing up all those memories. She felt raw now. Exposed. And it had nothing to do with the scanty lingerie she wore and everything to do with what she’d told him: everything.
He knew everything about her now.
A knock sounded at the door, jolting her. “Can I come in?” a deep voice asked.
He was already in...in a way no one else had ever been. Allison thought about sending him away then—about telling him to leave. But she hadn’t locked the door and the knob began to turn.
“I didn’t say yes,” she pointed out.
But it was too late. He’d opened the door. And once he saw her, all the breath left his lungs in a low groan. And the look in his eyes...
They burned with desire.
For her.
No. She was not going to send him away.
He drew in a deep, shaky-sounding breath. “What would you like me to do next?”
