by Tarah Scott
Liz spotted Larissa Remmey just as the woman turned and met her gaze. The older woman’s eyes lit. Attention fixed on Liz, she said something to the man on her right, then started across the room.
Liz smiled and kept her gaze on Larissa as she whispered to Adam, “You get me through this night and there’s a bonus in it for you.”
“Is it the bonus we discussed earlier?”
“Earlier—” She jerked her gaze onto his face. “I told you, I don’t rob the cradle, nor do I mix business with pleasure. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled. “No business with pleasure. I’ll be sure to keep them separate.”
Liz blinked and wondered whether he had noticed her reaction to him a moment ago. Dammit, she had no one but herself to blame for that. Before she could say more, Larissa reached them and extended her arms.
“Darling,” she said with the barest hint of a Russian accent.
Liz shot Adam a quelling look as Larissa pulled her into a cheek hug.
* * *
Ben kept his expression casual. He didn’t typically like surprises, but Liz Monahan as his date and Texas’ most wanted human traffics dealer showing up in El Paso tonight were two surprises he could live with. It looked like he wasn’t going to have to go snooping around the Remmey’s mansion, after all, to discover their connection to Carlos Sanchez. He could go straight to Sanchez. If he could get the man alone.
Liz slipped her hand through the crook of Ben’s arm. Before he could corner Sanchez, he’d have to slip away from Liz Monahan. He shifted his attention and found himself staring straight down her cleavage. He jerked his gaze up as Larissa said, “So this is the dress we’ve all been waiting to see.” The older woman nodded approval.
Liz laughed, low and sensual, and Ben’s groin surprised him by giving a hard salute. He hadn’t been this intensely affected when he’d met Laura five years ago. He’d been crazy about her, had even considered marriage. But after two years of dating, he still wasn’t home enough to ask her to marry into an empty house, and she simply fell out of love with him.
Staying closer to home won’t be a problem with Liz.
The thought brought him up short. He’d thought about her a lot these last two days, but when had he decided he wanted to spend more time at home with a woman? Liz released his arm and Ben resisted the impulse to grasp her hand and put it back. Tonight was about business—for both of them—and he couldn’t afford to let her get in his way.
“I doubt you’ve been waiting all season to see a Nina Bruno design,” she said to Larissa.
“On the contrary,” Larissa replied. “Your lineup last year was impressive. I’ve been watching you, as have others. I’m intrigued by the fact you chose to wear the debut dress yourself. Very bold. The leather top fits you to perfection—or I should say, you fill it out to perfection.”
Pink tinged Liz’s cheeks. “We use the gifts given us,” she said.
“And why not?” Larissa said. She turned to Ben. “And who is this luscious thing?”
“Mrs. Remmey, meet Adam Billings,” Liz said. “Adam—”
“No introductions are necessary,” he cut in. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Remmey.”
Larissa’s eyes lit with pleasure. “Ohh, a charmer.” She stepped closer and curved her fingers around his arm. “I think you’ll be my pet for the evening.”
“Pet for the evening?” a female voice said.
Even as Ben registered the familiar voice, the speaker stepped into view. He froze. The last person he expected to see was Assistant DA Sheila Antonio. He couldn’t allow her to discover that Carlos Sanchez occupied the same room with her.
Ben snapped from a brain freeze and said, “You’re Sheila Antonio.” He extended a hand. “Adam Billings. I’m a big fan.”
Her brows lifted in an expression of polite curiosity. She slid her hand into his and gave a hard squeeze, intended to remind him of their last encounter.
He felt the curious gazes of Liz and Mrs. Remmey and flashed his most charming grin. “You made big news last year when you prosecuted that drug dealer the Border Patrol caught with two kilos of cocaine. The guy put out a hit on you, but that didn’t stop you from putting him away for twenty years.”
“Not Border Patrol,” Sheila said. “The Texas Rangers caught him.”
“What’s the difference?”
“There’s a world of difference.” A glint appeared in her eyes. “They didn’t catch the man contracted to kill me.”
They weren’t supposed to. He was the hitman, and she knew it.
“Isn’t he delicious?” Mrs. Remmey interjected.
Sheila nodded. “Yes, he is.”
“But he’s spoken for.” Mrs. Remmey glanced at Liz. “You don’t mind, do you, darling?”
“My escort is your escort,” Liz replied.
Ben glanced at Sanchez. The man laughed at something another guest said. Ben had to break free of the women. He couldn’t chance Sanchez leaving the party.
“We’ll talk later, Sheila,” Mrs. Remmey said. “I have to show off Liz to my other guests.”
“It was very nice to meet you, Ms. Antonio,” Ben said.
She inclined her head. “Perhaps we’ll have a chance to talk more later?”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Mrs. Remmey said. “I plan to keep him to myself.” She started away and Ben turned his attention to her. “Come along, Liz,” she said. “I believe tonight is going to be your lucky night.”
Chapter Three
Liz’s excitement grew as Larissa Remmey worked the room. Two small but respectable boutiques fawned over the dress—after Larissa informed them the dress was sure to be a hit. They begged appointments early next week and Liz promised her assistant would call them first thing Monday morning.
Larissa then left with Adam to, as she said, “show off my newest friend” and make all the other women at the party jealous. Liz released a silent breath and accepted a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter as she milled about the room. The evening’s rocky start might just end in financial salvation. No thanks to Tanya.
Liz scanned the room until she spotted Tanya on the dancefloor. She sipped her champagne and stared until Tanya’s eyes met hers. Their gazes locked no more than a second before Tanya’s date whirled her, but the anxiety in Tanya’s eyes said she had gotten the message Liz telepathed: I know you sabotaged us.
Liz jarred from her thoughts when Adam came into view, dancing with Sheila Antonio. Liz recognized Sheila’s interest in him. In her job, Liz watched women fawn over male models, but Sheila Antonio’s attitude bordered on proprietary. Lust came in all forms and, in this case, the form was five foot eight with blonde hair coiled atop her head, and an hourglass figure that would make any full-bodied model jealous.
She’d draped an arm around Adam’s neck like a familiar lover and now stared at him as if intending to eat him on the spot. Adam stared politely down at her, though Liz was certain she detected frustration in his expression. Sheila’s hand slid from Adam’s neck and she flattened her palm against his chest. He maneuvered a turn and Liz realized he would see her gawking. She whirled away and snatched a shrimp appetizer from the tray of a passing waiter.
“Ms. Monahan.”
The male voice startled Liz and she turned to face the speaker.
The tall, dark-haired man flashed a smile. “I’m Reid Lowman.” He extended a hand.
Liz shook his hand and didn’t miss the flick of his eyes to her chest. If buyers noticed his attention, they would buy the dress and promise to make their customers the belle of the ball in this latest Nina Bruno design.
“I had no idea Nina Bruno’s Creative Director would be modeling this year’s winter debut design,” he said.
That made two of them. “Life is full of surprises.” She tried to pull her hand free. He held fast. “Who are you representing tonight?” she asked.
“Larissa invited me—which means I’m free for the evening.”
“Ms. Monahan has a date for the evening.”
Liz turned at the sound of Adam’s voice, and Reid released her hand as Adam slipped an arm around her waist.
Reid gave Adam an assessing look and a corner of his mouth lifted. He returned his attention to her, reached inside his front jacket pocket, and handed her a card. “Give me a call when you drop off the help this evening. I’m a night owl.”
She took the card. “I’ll put you in my contacts for future reference.”
His smile suggested a personal contact instead of a professional one.
He left and Adam’s hand shifted to her spine as he urged her in the opposite direction. “Is sex really how you sell designs?” he asked.
Liz shifted her gaze to his face. “Why do you think women wear designer clothes?”
“Because the fashion industry convinces women they have to pimp themselves out.”
“You’re very naive, Mr. Billings. Women have been pimping themselves out since the first male showed interest in a female.”
Something undefined flickered in his eyes and was replaced by grudging respect. “That dress’ll get the job done,” he said. “But do you really need that guy?”
She laughed. “He’s just another model trying to get a leg up.”
“Trying to get your leg up,” Adam said. “I suppose that’s a requirement for getting the job?”
Liz’s amusement died. “That’s not how I hired you, if you recall.”
“True. But maybe you didn’t like me.”
“I like your looks just fine.”
He grinned. “Ms. Monahan, I do believe I’ve made you angry.”
It was her turn to be surprised. He had pushed her buttons—twice in fact—a feat not easily accomplished. Which meant she was the one who hadn’t separated business from pleasure. Liz spotted a dress she was sure had been copied from another designer’s previous winter collection. That eliminated them from the competition.
“How did you manage to escape—” she started to say ‘Ms. Antonio,’ realized he’d know she’d been watching them dance, and managed, instead, “—Larissa?”
“I told her I had to save you from the wolves.”
Liz riveted her gaze onto him. “Wolves?” Her outburst earned her a curious look from a man to her left. She urged Adam two paces away, then whispered, “That’s not your job description. You’re supposed to make me look good.”
“Then I’d better get to it.”
He grasped her hand and she startled at the gentle pressure or his fingers on hers as he worked his way through the crowd. They neared the orchestra and she registered the waltz they played—and Adam’s intentions.
“Mr. Billings,” she began, but he turned and slipped a hand around her waist.
Adam drew her into a tight turn and her pulse quickened as her breasts flattened against his chest. She glanced down and couldn’t halt a small gasp at seeing her breasts straining against her bodice. Liz looked up to find him staring down at her, one brow raised.
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re going to get us arrested.”
He gave a low chuckle that carried with it something indefinable. “There’s a first time for everything.”
The firm pressure of his fingers on her back tightened as he deftly steered her away from a couple dancing too close. “You’re enjoying this,” she said under her breath.
Another laugh.
What was up with this man? She had seen a lot of shameless flirting and blunt propositioning in her years in the fashion industry—not to mention, the three years as Creative Director for Nina Bruno Designs—but she had never been… What? Accosted? Worse, she had to admit, was the fact that it had been some time since a man held her so intimately. Adam sidestepped another couple, executing an expert turn. Liz’s grip on his back tightened and her fingers brushed the soft hair at his neck. A shiver raced down her spine. She grimaced inwardly. It really had been too long since she’d done anything except access men for their ability to make a model look good.
The song ended and relief kicked in. A slower song began and Liz hurried to pull away, but his hold tightened.
“We haven’t gotten everyone’s attention yet.” He pulled her closer and slipped his leg between hers.
Her head swam when the steely thigh muscles pressed her leg as he swayed with the music.
Eyes locked with hers, he placed her hand against his chest. “Relax, Ms. Monahan, you’re the gem of the ball. You’re supposed to be enjoying the party.”
“I’m supposed to be working.”
“That means playing the part of a woman who’s full of life, who knows she’s adored. Isn’t that what Tanya would be doing if she was wearing that dress?”
He had a point, damn him, but she answered, “As you pointed out, I’m no model.”
He leaned close and pressed his jaw to her cheek. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” His voice, low and deep, sent another shiver down her back. “You’re a real woman,” he said. “Not one of those made-up paper dolls.”
His thigh brushed the juncture between her legs. Liz became aware of the warmth of his hand on her back. She held her breath, half expecting his fingers to slide down over the curve of her buttocks. But his gentle pressure remained confident and warm on the small of her back.
“Those made-up paper dolls sell dresses,” she managed in a voice that came out low and breathy.
“Trust me, you’re the best advertisement Nina Bruno could have gotten for this dress.”
“I won’t be propositioned, Mr. Billings.” She closed her eyes and gave thanks that her voice held more conviction than she felt.
“When I proposition you, Ms. Monahan, you’ll know it.”
“I’m old enough to be your mother,” she said. “And don’t say but you’re not my mother. I am your boss.”
“Two points we’ll discuss later,” he said.
She snapped her head up. He smiled and her stomach flipped. Had she lost her mind? She dealt with gorgeous men every day. Why did this one evoke such giddy flutters?
The smile. That’s what did her in. That smile will sell dresses, she admonished herself. Remember that and nothing else.
“Right now we have more pressing issues.” he said.
“Excuse me?”
Liz bumped into a hard body behind her. She whirled and something hard struck her hip. Adam turned with her, not missing a sway to the musical beat. She’d bumped into Tanya’s date.
“Forgive me,” Tanya’s date’s cultured Mexican accent caught Liz’s attention. He made eye contact while still dancing with Tanya. “I hope I did not hurt you.”
Liz smiled. “Not at all.” Was that a gun she’d struck?
“My fault completely,” Adam interjected. “I was distracted.”
The man’s eyes remained fixed on Liz. “I see why.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Tanya purse her lips.
“Nice to see you, Tanya,” Adam said.
Tanya flashed a bored smile. “I don’t recall your name.”
“Adam,” Liz cut in, “you were just about to get me some champagne. If you will excuse us.” She nodded at the couple, then pulled free of Adam and led him from the dance floor.”
“What was that all about?” she demanded once they were several paces from the nearest guests.
His gaze returned to the couple. “What do you mean?”
“You intended to confront her.”
Adam looked at her, brow furrowed. “All I did was say hello.”
“You purposely bumped into them.”
“I’m an excellent dancer. He bumped into us.”
“You said you were distracted,” she hissed.
He shrugged. “I was being polite. I didn’t peg you as being so easily intimidated.”
“I’m not. But I have some sense.”
Liz caught sight of Larissa. The older woman’s eyes shifted to Adam's face. She smiled and crooked a finger in a come here motion.
“S
eems your benefactor is requesting our presence,” he said.
“Your presence,” Liz corrected.
“We’ll work that to our advantage.”
He grasped her hand and started toward Larissa.
He held her hand lightly, but firmly. If she tugged free it would be obvious she wasn’t pleased. “I promised a bonus if you got me through the night,” she said under her breath. “Make a scene with Tanya, and I’ll bury you.”
His head snapped in her direction. Finally, she’d gotten his attention.
“I believe you mean it,” he said.
She couldn’t tell if he was worried or amused. “Don’t try me,” she said.
“I think it would be worth seeing you try,” he replied.
“What the—I’ll do more than try—”
She broke off as Larissa stepped away from the woman she’d been talking with and took three steps to meet them.
“Darlings,” she cooed, “I want to introduce you to a dear friend of mine. Martin,” Larissa called to a man standing a few feet away. “Come here, darling.”
Liz turned her attention to the short, wiry man who joined their group.
He reached Larissa’s side and said in a British accent, “The party is marvelous, Larissa. And you look smashing.” He kissed her cheek. “Where is that granddaughter of yours? You promised she would be here. I brought her something special from London.”
“Christina is under the weather,” Larissa replied.
“Poor thing,” Martin said. “Nothing serious, I hope.”
“Just a cold, but I insisted she rest.”
“Of course. I’ll have the gift sent round tomorrow. It’s an outfit designed by Chelsea that will look smashing on her. Don’t worry,” he quickly added, “it’s appropriate for a fifteen-year-old.”
Larissa laughed, but Liz thought she sounded tired.
“I trust you completely,” Larissa said. “And I’m sure she’ll love it. Now, I want to introduce you to the designer I was telling you about last month. Liz Monahan with Nina Bruno Designs. Liz, meet Martin Stayes, head buyer for LaRouche.”
For a heartbeat, Liz couldn’t think.
Martin Stayes...LaRouche?
