by Cindy Dees
“It’s time for us to go, sir,” Tomas announced.
Hake held out his arm to her with a smile. “Shall we?”
She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “We shall.”
Tomas and his men escorted them into a ballroom with a stage set up across one end of it. Lights already blazed as reporters made preliminary reports. A buzz went up and all eyes—and cameras—turned on Hake.
Casey jolted. “Holy cow.”
Hake murmured back, “This is nothing. Wait till a horde of paparazzi turns on us.”
“Hoo yeah,” she muttered.
Hake was as smooth and polished in front of the press as any politician. He read the statement expressing his condolences for those injured in the London bombing, thanked the local law enforcement, fire and medical crews who had responded to the incident and promised to do all he could to help the British government find and bring to justice those responsible for the bombing.
The questions, predictably, focused on how Hake had gotten out of the nightclub unharmed and where he’d been since. Casey was impressed at how adroitly he dodged the questions. As he’d promised, no mention of any female commandos was made. And then the question they’d all been waiting for came out of the crowd. A reporter shouted, “What do you plan to do now, Mr. El Aran?”
Hake turned toward the voice and fired off one of his patented bad-boy grins. “I nearly died in that blast. Now I plan to celebrate being alive as hard as I possibly can.”
“Who’s the girl?” another reporter shouted.
Hake blandly ignored the question as Vanessa and company had suggested. The more mystery surrounding Casey, the more media frenzy would be whipped up. She could only pray the cover story H.O.T. Watch had put in place for her would hold up to scrutiny.
Hake thanked the journalists and stepped down off the stage. Tomas had strategically placed her at the foot of the steps leading off the dais, and Hake headed straight for her. He dropped a kiss on her startled mouth. As he turned her loose, he murmured, “No turning back now. It’s you and me, together all the way.”
The two of them together? All the way? She liked the sound of that a whole lot more than she wanted to admit. And to think. The fun was just getting started. She gulped. What on God’s green earth had she gotten herself into?
Chapter 12
H ake knew just the place. The French Riviera was known for its nightclubs, but one discotheque stood out from all the rest when it came to wild parties and high-end clientele: The Grotto. It was possible to get to the place by water and walk down its private pier to the club. Or there was the newcomer’s traditional way of arriving. Seeing as he and Casey were supposed to be making a splash, he chose the latter.
As they stepped out of the limo in front of the sleepy little bar, Tomas looked at him questioningly. Hake muttered, “I wouldn’t want to deprive her of the full experience.”
Tomas shrugged. “It’s your funeral, sir.”
Casey glanced back and forth between them suspiciously. Hake ushered her into the dim joint. It was narrow and deep and crowded with bistro tables. She frowned up at him. “I thought we were going to a hopping nightclub.”
He grinned back. “We’re there.”
Her frown deepened. “What’s the joke?”
“No joke. Come with me.” He couldn’t keep a grin from playing at the corners of his mouth as he led her to the back of the club. “We have to separate for a moment, I’m afraid. If you’ll step into the ladies’ restroom, I’ll head into the men’s room with Tomas and the boys. We’ll meet you after that.”
As she stared in confusion, he swept into the men’s room with his bodyguards. “Hurry, Tomas,” Hake muttered. “I want to beat her downstairs.”
“She’s going to kill you,” Tomas muttered back.
Hake grinned. “That’s the beauty of it. She can’t. She’s under strict orders to act madly infatuated with me.”
“I’m not saving you from her when you get back to the hotel. That woman scares me. And besides, you’ll deserve it…sir.”
Hake grinned at his guard and stepped over to the fire pole mounted in the corner. He slid through the hole in the floor and dropped easily onto the red velvet sofa below. A bell rang and a crowd of partiers applauded him as he sprawled on the cushions. He had to roll aside fast, though, because Tomas and his men weren’t about to leave Hake unattended for long. Hake regained his feet, straightened his clothes, and turned to wait for Casey to join him on the pole from the ladies’ room.
He should have known that landing in an unceremonious heap on a couch was not Casey’s idea of a grand entrance. Her feet appeared through the gap in the ceiling. The bartender commenced ringing his bell to announce her arrival. Casey’s red stiletto heels alone were naughty enough to set a guy’s heart pounding.
Slowly, she twirled down the pole. Her shapely calves came into sight, then her knees and thighs. Her dress slid nearly up to her hips, and the crowd whistled and cat-called as she spun down, her legs gripping the pole in a way that made a man break out in a sweat.
She let go with one hand and leaned back, exposing her throat to everyone and nearly exposing her breasts as her low-cut dress pulled tight across her swelling chest. Eyes closed and a look of sexual ecstasy on her face, she slid slowly down the last dozen inches. The club drew a collective breath of appreciation, and then the place went wild.
She landed on her feet like the sofa was her own personal throne and held an imperious hand out to Hake. Grinning, he stepped forward and steadied her as she stepped down regally.
“Nice entrance,” he murmured under the din. “In case I haven’t mentioned it recently, your legs are perfect. In fact, all of you is just about perfect.”
Her mouth smiled flirtatiously, but her eyes glinted an amused dare at him. “What next? Are we supposed to have a big fight and tear each other’s clothes off by way of making up or something?”
He laughed. “Although that would undoubtedly land us on the pages of the tabloids, I think your spectacular entrance rather took care of that. Let’s circulate a bit and make sure to run into, and then snub, all the undercover gossip columnists. They know I hate being splashed across the gossip rags, so if I tick them off, they should have a field day.”
“You know who all these undercover reporters are?”
“If I told you a crazed terrorist was in this room, could you find him?”
She blinked. “I expect I could. It is my job, after all.”
“There you have it. Spotting reporters is my field of expertise.”
“Fair enough.” She smiled bravely. “Lead on.”
Oh, how he did want to lead her on. But not here. Not like this. She was the kind of woman who deserved better than being publicly flaunted like a cheap prize—or a very expensive one as the case might be. An image of his married sisters, safe in their homes with doting husbands, flashed through his head. Hake stopped cold, stunned.
The last thing he wanted was a traditional Bhoukari marriage with a traditional Bhoukari woman. But all of a sudden, he comprehended the concept of privacy in a relationship as a good thing. Not that he’d ever bothered to provide it for a woman before. He lived a fast, visible life, and any woman who wanted to be with him could deal with it.
Then why did he want to take off his suit coat and put it around Casey’s shoulders? To gather her protectively close and take her someplace quiet where they could be alone…even if it was only to talk? Why were his teeth gnashing at the idea of every other male in this place ogling her like a piece of meat?
“I’m sorry, Casey,” he murmured.
She threw him a perplexed look, but the dance music cranked up painfully loud just then, and they were swept along with the crowd out into the middle of the dance floor.
This was one place he didn’t have to worry about Casey handling herself. The woman simply knew how to translate music to movement. Envious looks flew his way fast and furious from the men, and jealous looks from the fem
ale patrons shot Casey’s way.
At one point he leaned forward to shout in her ear, “Having fun?”
“Yes! It’s nice not to have to worry about giving everyone else a good show.”
At least one of them was having fun. Maybe it was the business of waiting for someone to try to kill him again that had him on edge. Or maybe it was his grossly mistaken expectation of being amused when the other men circled his woman like a pack of sharks. But tonight, he found himself clenching his jaw a lot and exhibiting an unusual tendency to touch Casey’s arm or rest a hand on her back as they moved on and off the dance floor.
Long after he was ready to take a break from dancing and wet his throat, Casey finally nodded to him. He led her into the next room, which was ringed by a long bar and dotted with sofas.
“You’ve killed me, woman,” Hake declared.
She laughed. “What we just did is not a fraction as strenuous as Middle Eastern dance. Are you admitting, then, that belly dancers are buff?”
“I concede the point.” He toasted her with a bottle of water.
They chatted as best they could over the blaring music. At around midnight, the DJ thankfully backed down on the volume, and Casey was able to ask reasonably normally, “Why’d he turn down the noise attack?”
“The patrons need to start working their pickup lines,” Hake answered in amusement.
“Seriously?” Casey asked in surprise, looking around.
“Yes.”
“So. Is it customary for you to hit on the women or do they hit on you?”
He blinked at the frank question. “I suppose it’s more of a mutual thing. I see a beautiful woman, she sees me. We meet, we talk, we—” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence tastefully.
“Go back to your place for hot sex?” Casey supplied drily.
“When you put it like that, it sounds cheap. Boring.”
“How would you put it?” she asked.
He stared at her for a stunned moment. “Now that I think about it, I suppose the whole business is rather cheap and boring.”
Her eyebrows went up. She seemed almost as surprised as he felt. Since when was he tired of the playboy life?
Casey commented quietly, “I’m sorry to be cramping your style like this.”
“On the contrary. You’re enhancing my reputation spectacularly.”
“And what, exactly, is that reputation?”
He leaned close and murmured, “I always go home with the most beautiful woman in the place.”
Casey turned a critical eye on the rest of the club. “I don’t know about that. The blonde in the corner is stunning. Maybe we should go set you up with her. Or maybe you prefer a more exotic look. Like that African woman—the tall, slender one with the incredible eyes. Or—”
“I’m already with the most beautiful woman in the place,” he interrupted gently.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Hake captured Casey’s ice-cold fingers to keep her from bolting from him. He asked, “What’s going on? Are you panicking on me?”
She mumbled, “What do you mean?”
“I came with you. I’m leaving with you. Unless, of course, you want me to go flirt with one of those other women so you can get into a catfight and hit the tabloids that way.”
“I’d accidentally kill someone. I’m not accustomed to holding back when I fight.”
Hake laughed. “Duly noted.”
Casey spoke in a businesslike fashion. “Okay, I’ve dirty danced for you. And now you’re holding my hand. What’s next?”
“You don’t have to sound like I’m about to extract your tooth with pliers. The idea is to relax. Have fun.”
“No, the idea is to draw attention to you. To get your…friends…to show themselves.”
He sighed. She’d lost the spirit of fun from earlier, apparently. She was going to hide behind the whole playing-soldier thing unless… Inspired, he murmured, “It’s time for you to crawl onto my lap.”
“I beg your pardon?” Casey looked alarmed.
“You need to drape yourself all over me. Imagine yourself tipsy, bordering on drunk enough to lose all inhibition. Trust me. It’s how these transactions are conducted.”
Reluctance in her eyes was replaced by grim determination. Didn’t like mauling him in public, did she? They were in agreement on that score, then. Nonetheless, she leaned across him, ostensibly to set her drink on the end table beyond his elbow. And when she was physically draped across him, she glanced up. The sidelong look she gave him was so incendiary that he felt his clothing and various body parts catching on fire.
“Okay, I’m draped,” she murmured. “Now what?”
“Uh—” he cleared his throat “—now we should probably kiss.”
She leaned forward until her mouth was barely an inch from his. “Like this?” she whispered.
“Uh, yes. Exactly.” And then her luscious mouth was on his, moving coaxingly, as if she thought he needed encouragement to go crazy for her. Her head tilted and she kissed him more aggressively. Her body pulsed forward, her chest coming up hard against his, her arm going around his neck wantonly.
Lights exploded inside his head and shock vibrated through him. This was more than lust. More than man-sees-woman, man-wants-woman. This dug deep into his gut. Soul deep. The difference between a little buzz and a hopeless addiction. She flowed over him and through him like the finest wine, warm and spicy and complex.
Thankfully, she eventually came up gasping for air because he had no power to do so himself. He blinked, surprised to find himself in a dance club with people and noise and lights around him. Tomas was grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Did I get it right?” Casey murmured low.
He laughed shortly. “If you got it much more right, you’d have killed me.”
She smiled and slid coyly off his lap. If Casey wasn’t an old pro at this game, she was, at a minimum, a hell of an actress. She fit into the party scene as if she was born to it. Meanwhile, he felt out of his depth. What in the hell had she done to him? He was still flummoxed when, about an hour later, she leaned in close and murmured, “The patrons are starting to hook up. They’ll be leaving soon. If you and I are going to make a grand exit, now’s the time, while we still have a good audience.”
His gut clenched. He ought to kiss her again. But he was suddenly terrified of doing so. What if that other kiss hadn’t been temporary insanity? What if he was losing himself to her?
What was this? The great ladies’ man, Hake El Aran, afraid? Of a simple kiss? Bah. He’d kissed so many women over the years he couldn’t even begin to guess how many. Some of them had been pretty spectacular kissers, too. Casey had just surprised him. He hadn’t expected her to throw herself into that earlier kiss with quite so much unbridled enthusiasm.
He leaned forward cautiously. She was just a woman. It would be just a kiss.
He drew her across his body to prove to himself that he could do so without losing control. Except as her softness and heat molded to him, he couldn’t help relishing the sensation. He swore under his breath. Apparently, she was a fix of heroin and he an overdue junkie after all.
One kiss. And then he’d let her go.
Except when his lips touched hers, everything else evaporated, leaving only them in this magical place of pleasure and unslaked need. She tasted like coconut and rum—sweet and spicy. Dammit, she was as addictive as he remembered. It hadn’t been his imagination! He speared his hands into her thick, silky hair and shamelessly drank from her, feeding on the taste and scent of her until his head spun madly. And then she all but ate him alive.
He couldn’t think about anything but getting that dress off her and pulling her down on top of him while he plunged into her. His hand slipped under one of the garment’s thin spaghetti straps while his other hand climbed her thigh, sliding under the hem of the slinky little dress. Ah, yes. Silken flesh. About to be naked and joined with him. His woman. Need to possess her pound
ed through him.
A throat cleared nearby. “Uh, boss?”
Hake tore his mouth away from Casey’s long enough to glare at Tomas. He was about to turn back to making love to her when a bright mirror flash got in his eye. He swore to himself. He was in a nightclub. A very public nightclub. With an avid audience watching him and Casey all but devour each other.
Violent impulses ripped through him. “Later,” he managed to grit out at her from between his clenched teeth. “When we’re alone.” He forced his hand to push the shoulder strap of her dress back up and smoothed her hem down her thigh before, through sheer dint of will, making himself set her aside.
He was not the kind of man who fell on any woman like a wild animal. Ever. But he literally shook with the effort of restraining himself. He put his hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the seaside exit. “Get us out of here,” he managed to order Tomas.
The chilly night air cleared his head a little, and the long walk down the pier to the powerful speedboat his men had waiting made him feel a little more sane. But not much. Why was he so freaked out? They were already together. He’d even promised her he might consider marrying her. Was he really that big a commitment-phobe? Or was it something else? Was he developing real feelings for a woman? Was that what was messing with his head so badly?
No doubt about it. He’d lost his mind tonight. To a seductress sweeter than honey, hotter than fire and more mysterious than the rarest burgundy.
“Let’s go back to the hotel, shall we, darling?” he murmured.
“Uh-huh.” She sounded drugged, or perhaps so lost in lust she could hardly see straight. He felt a tiny bit better knowing he was not the only one so afflicted.
In a few minutes, they reached their hotel’s pier. When they arrived at the penthouse, she kicked off her high heels and joined Tomas’s men in sweeping the suite. It was disconcerting how quickly she shifted from sexy girlfriend to all-business soldier.
His head spun and he couldn’t seem to clear it. He’d had very little to drink—he’d been far too busy enjoying Casey. It was one thing to talk hypothetically to her about a permanent relationship, but it was another thing entirely to see it starting to develop.
