by Jo Leigh
really, really wished he could see the details of her face. “You?”
He almost lost it then, but pretended to yawn. “I won’t get myself into anything I can’t get out of. I promise.”
“That’s good,” she said, lying down again under the white duvet. “Because it would blow our cover all to hell if I had to come sweeping in to save your ass.”
“I see what you did there,” Ryan said, grinning at her even though she couldn’t see it. “Save my ass. You’re a riot.”
“So you’ve said.”
“Being a riot is not the same thing as being funny.”
Another punch to the pillow, observed this time, and her hair flowing over the ghostly white of the case made his smile fade and his stomach clench. It was too easy to talk with her, to lose track of how she affected him until it was too late. His cock wasn’t hard, but it wasn’t ignoring the circumstances, either.
“You set the alarm for six o’clock, right?” Angie asked, her voice lowered and missing the teasing he found he liked very much.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Good night.”
“You, too.” He took his time settling back into his safety position, thinking about the giant gap between his idea of safety and Delilah’s. But Ryan also knew that a bed didn’t exist that was large enough to make this deal with Angie one of the most difficult challenges he’d faced. Despite his determination, his promises to himself to stop thinking of her as anything but a coworker, there was no way.
He’d seen Kyle and Olivia scoping Angie out and he’d wanted to pull her away so fast he’d have left smoking tracks. He wasn’t bothered by jealousy much. When he was younger, yeah, but in the past ten years he never put himself in a situation where there would be any competition. The women he picked had already picked him.
This, now, this was something else. And he was starting to realize how unprepared he was. The defenses he’d built up only worked in the scenarios he manipulated. This bed? This assignment? A thousand and ten miles from his comfort zone.
* * *
ANGIE CROSSED PERFECTLY manicured nails as she waited to see if Liz was there to get her call. If not, Angie would try her cell phone, but she had to be fast because Ryan was waiting for her. While she’d spoken to Liz earlier that morning, she needed another dose of best friend.
Just before Angie was about to hang up, Liz’s face came into view. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
Ryan’s voice, muffled, stopped Angie cold. “Are you speaking to me?”
She hadn’t remembered to turn on the water. “Nope,” she said, loudly. “Talking to myself.” Then she turned the sink’s spigot on full blast, hoping it was enough.
“Show me that dress,” Liz said.
“Shh. Whisper.”
“He can’t hear me, you idiot. Now, show me the dress.”
Angie did, but only because Liz wasn’t going to let it go. When she whistled, Angie winced, sure Ryan had heard that. She pulled the tablet up so she was face-to-face with her friend. “Your theory about sleeping with him is ridiculous,” she said, whispering, but with as much venom as she could muster.
“Okay.” Liz said it with complete nonchalance.
“I’m not kidding. It’s stupid. I’ll have to see him in the office.”
“Fine.”
“Liz!”
“What? I’m not arguing with you.”
“Delilah and Ira gave a class on pleasure props today.”
“Pardon?”
Angie sat back down on the side of the tub. “You heard me. We had to play with everything from riding crops to gray silk ties. No one was naked or anything but the only thing worse than having Ryan Vail suck flavored lube off my finger was when I had to practice, uh, binding him while he gave me hints and smiles.”
Liz took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Angie could see she was struggling not to laugh. “It wasn’t funny.”
“I can see how it wouldn’t be. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“Thank you,” Angie said, the sympathy easing her discomfort hangover.
“Why are you calling me?”
She noticed that her friend was in her sports bra with her hair up. She was in her bathroom, too, and the sound of the tub filling was kind of loud. “Tonight I have to be all over him at the casino.”
“Ah. Well, I guess you just do what feels right, Angie. Go with your instincts.”
“He screws up my instincts.”
Liz’s condescending smile made Angie want to slap her.
“Go take your bath.”
“In all seriousness, hon, you can do this. You’re the most focused person I’ve ever met. When in doubt, remember the promotion. Do what’s necessary to get it.”
Angie nodded, knowing her friend’s words were wise but unsure that she could follow the advice. “I’ll try. But don’t be shocked if I call you in the middle of the night.”
“I have to work tomorrow,” Liz said, her voice whiny and high.
“Tough. It’s your fault for being a good friend. I’ll talk to you later.” Angie clicked off, not feeling one iota better. After she shoved the tablet in her case, she checked herself in the mirror, feeling equally hot and embarrassed. She’d never worn a dress like this, ever, and even though the material squeezed her like a giant Ace bandage, she felt more naked than she did wearing a bikini. It not only emphasized the curves she had, but created new ones. A person would think she had boobs in this Hermes concoction. Then there was the question of the length. Or the lack thereof. Her fingertips skimmed the bottom hem, for God’s sake.
The shoes didn’t help. The ludicrously tall heel was the same purple as the dress, but that was the only attempt at matching. The strap around her ankle was orange, the platform black patent and the peep-toe a dayglo pink. The instructions were to carry a white clutch with this mess of Crayola colors. She had no idea why.
One final look at her face, painted with far too much makeup, and she turned the knob, ready for a night at the casino.
From the back, Ryan looked great. He’d put on a jacket that fit him very well, emphasizing his broad shoulders and trim waist. When he turned around, the picture was even more alluring. She had a thing for athletic bodies, the clean lines of a ripped stomach and the masculinity of a perfectly muscled chest. The shirt he wore was white, elegantly simple and just a tad too snug. The slacks were black like the jacket. No tie. Classic shoes. Altogether stunning.
“Holy...”
Angie looked up and was taken aback to see the expression on Ryan’s face. His eyes got wide and full of pupil, a slight flush tinted his cheeks, and then there was his dropped jaw. “What?” She looked down, wondering if something unfortunate had popped out.
“Wow,” he said. “You continue to be very surprising.”
“It’s too much, isn’t it?” she asked. “I have a couple of other choices in there. I look like a hooker, don’t I? Oh, God. I do.”
“No,” he said, stepping toward her but stopping more than an arm’s length away. “You look fantastic. You look like you should be on the cover of Vogue or on a red carpet, making all the actresses hate your guts.”
Angie couldn’t help the grin that tugged at her lips.
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s perfect. Everyone in the casino is going to notice you. Actually both of us. Because they’ll all be wondering what the hell you’re doing with a guy like me.”
“Oh, come on, Ryan. You’re just fishing. You know you’re gorgeous in that. It looks like it was tailor-made for you.”
“It was. It cost a fortune. The best part is that because it’s bespoke, I don’t have to return it.”
“Oh.” She looked at the dress she’d suddenly come to like more than anything else she’d ever worn. “I suppose I’d better not spill any wine on this thing. I have no idea what designer dresses go for, but I can’t imagine they’re cheap.”
“On the other hand, if
you stain it carefully, it might not be returnable.”
“That would be defrauding the American people.”
“Only technically. I see it as doing the people a favor. Any citizen who sees you in the dress is going to be very impressed with the FBI.”
“I’m not going to wear my badge with it.”
“You should. You should be on the cover of FBI Monthly.”
Okay, that deserved the eye-roll. “There is no FBI Monthly.”
He smiled. “They’d start one, if they knew you could be on the cover.”
The blush that had started when he’d said, “Wow” had taken root, and while she liked the compliments, she could only deal with so many. “You know what? Give me a minute, would you? I, uh, need to brush my teeth.”
Ryan’s surprised look was cut off by her shutting the bathroom door.
Angie steadied herself on the sink as she tried to find the breath Ryan had stolen. She wasn’t used to such extravagant attention for her looks. Yes, she understood she was
attractive, but attractive hadn’t counted for much in her life. Everything was about strength, athletic ability and intellectual achievement. That had been enough to contend with, and hearing Ryan talk about her that way, look at her with those eyes. It was great, and also not easy to deal with. But she needed to. Confidence was a key part of Angie Ebsen’s character, and tonight, Angie would be on display.
She swiped a bit of toothpaste on her tongue, just in case, then stood up straight. Flicking her hair back, she pretended she was the woman she was playing, who wielded her sexuality the way Angie wielded her weapon.
When she stepped out of the bathroom, Ryan was standing by the bed. He gave her a long, considering look from the top down.
“Let’s hit it,” she said as she picked up her small bag and made a beeline for the door. “But not too fast because walking in these shoes is the most dangerous part of this assignment.”
“I could argue that one,” he murmured, but it was low, as if he hadn’t meant for her to hear. He made it to the door first and held it open for her.
The night was chilly enough that if she’d been herself Angie would have worn a jacket. At least it wasn’t a long walk to the casino, and she’d suffered through worse. She waited for Ryan to join her, picking up the pace as they moved along the well-lit pathway. Slowly, so she could get her feet under her.
She’d thought he might touch her once, but that only happened when they had to step aside for someone passing. Three times, his arm had moved behind her, but there’d been no contact. It was too close to the not-quite massage they’d suffered through all afternoon. “You know how earlier I said I could feel the energy of your body?”
Ryan slowed down even more. “Yeah?”
“I lied because that’s what Delilahexpected me to say. I didn’t feel anything.”
“Oh. I felt yours.”
They were almost at the entrance. She stopped.
“You all right?”
Angie thought about asking him if he was telling her the truth, but why would he lie? “I will be,” she said. “I’m always nervous before the start of a race.”
He leaned in and rested his hand carefully on her bare lower arm. “You’re going to knock this out of the park. Just go with your instincts.”
That was two votes for instincts, and for once, she didn’t overthink it. She simply leaned forward the few inches between them and kissed him on the lips. It was meant to be a quickie, but his arm snaked around her back and he pulled her close as he licked the crease between her lips until they parted for him.
A girlish laugh and a low wolf whistle registered seconds before the glass doors to the casino slid open. It took her a second to realize Ryan had pulled back.
7
A WALL OF NOISE HIT RYAN from the casino, rock music from somewhere near the entrance, bells and dings and chimes from hundreds of slot machines, laughter, cheers from the craps tables. No wonder the doors were so heavy, not just to keep the desert heat out, but to mark the distinction between the casino and the courtyard.
Still, as he walked with Angie, the taste of her on his tongue, none of the glitz and sparkle could hope to compete with this incredibly surprising version of the woman he’d thought he’d known.
A cocktail waitress passed, forcing him to step closer to Angie and he struggled for a second against his need for more contact. He gave in, though. His hand at the small of her back, because while they were in the casino there was no question about who he was. Ryan Ebsen would feel proprietary about his wife, especially considering the hungry looks that were coming from every direction. Even the pit bosses stared as he and Angie passed the table games. The players, including those who had no chance in hell, stopped in midmotion, their hunger blatant. But then that was what a casino was all about.
“Of course, all the restaurants are at the back of the building,” Ryan said, moving his mouth closer to her ear. “At least we can keep an eye out for any of the gang.”
“I’m not ready to see anyone yet,” Angie said, “but God, please tell me that band doesn’t play all night.”
“You’re probably out of luck with that. Did you decide which restaurant?”
“Let’s see if we can get in to Hachi first. It’s still early, so I don’t think we’ll have too much of a wait.”
Ryan nodded, then noticed that the open staring had eased up considerably. He smiled as he realized it was because they were passing the banks of video poker machines. These folks never looked up. Angie could have been stark naked and not be noticed.
Okay, perhaps he shouldn’t think about Angie being naked. Especially when there was no hiding a thing in that dress of hers. Every curve was on display, perfectly wrapped like the most stunning present ever.
“Why are you slowing down when I’m so hungry?” Angie asked, tugging at his sleeve.
Somehow they’d separated. Unacceptable. But instead of the sexuality of his hand on her back, he went to the opposite end of signaling ownership and took her hand in his.
The move startled her, but she got back on track in a few seconds. “Have you seen any of the foursome?”
“Nope,” he said, although to be honest he’d been distracted.
“I haven’t even found any of the couples,” she said as they moved closer to the perimeter, past the steakhouse and the Italian bistro. “I guess this is why the sessions start so late in the day.”
“Lots of playtime. Smart to have an intimacy workshop at a casino where there’s maximum stimulation of the senses and the endorphins are already swimming.”
“Right now, all I care about is sushi. If we can, let’s get a table by the window. Get seen.”
“I’ll do my best,” he said as he led her into the foyer of the elegant and ultramodern Japanese restaurant. There was a small line, but the place wasn’t packed. He pulled a fifty out of his wallet, reluctantly left Angie standing by the large art thing that looked strangely woodsy, then went to the tuxedo-clad maître d’.
Not five minutes later, they had their window seat, facing each other. It was going to be a long night, so he passed on having a drink and as expected; so did Angie. The food selection was huge, and if they’d had time, he would have gone for the chef’s menu, but they needed to be out there, at center stage.
Instead of choosing between the spicy tuna and the sea urchin, he kept stealing glances at Angie. More than eating at the group lunches or room service, this felt like a date. He figured Ebsen would feel the same way, given his goals. As soon as they filled out their sushi orders, he reached across the table for Angie’s hand. “You, my love, have been causing quite a stir.”
She stared at where he touched her. “How’s that?”
“That dress is probably illegal in most states. You’re a stunner.”
“Trust me, it’s the dress more than me. It’s actually uncomfortable as hell.”
“Really? Too tight?”
“Too much. Too clingy. I’m not used to be
ing so on display.”
“You’d never know it. You walk like you own the place.”
She looked down, differently this time, a shy move, something to hide the blush that stole up her cheeks. “Thank you,” she said, but her voice was lower. Softer.
The waitress came then, and he let Angie go, but man, he didn’t want to. And that scared the hell out of him.
* * *
IN HER WHOLE LIFE, ANGIE had never felt ornamental. She’d been a loner, a second fiddle, a third wheel, but never arm candy. Looks weren’t the currency of worth in her family. Only achievement. Even though she wore Angie Ebsen like a costume, Angie Wolf was still inside and she wasn’t sure how to feel about his compliments and the way he looked at her. Flattered, yes, but uneasy, as well.
Sipping a sour apple martini, standing slightly behind Ryan as he threw the dice at the craps table, Angie distracted herself by taking another long look past the immediate crowd to the casino floor beyond, seeking out anyone having anything to do with Intimate At Last.
A loud cheer interrupted her search, making her tense with the knowledge of what came next. Ryan, continuing his wicked winning streak, turned halfway toward her, far enough to wrap his hand around her waist and pull her into a kiss.
He tasted like whiskey and excitement as he thrust into her mouth. While it was perfectly in character, each kiss set her heart pumping as she struggled to remember that none of this was real.
When he finally pulled away, it was only long enough to reach for the dice. Thankfully he didn’t ask for her to blow on them, because she couldn’t have pulled that off. Besides, Angie Ebsen would never have done something so lowbrow. It was bad enough that she continued to wince each time he returned his attention to the game.
A bump to her elbow made her spill a few drops of her martini, and a quick, deep-voiced apology followed.
She smiled, a reflex more than anything. “No problem.”
The man, who had to have fought his way into his slot at the table, didn’t turn immediately to the game. Instead, he tilted his head, looking concerned.
He wasn’t as tall as Ryan, not quite as good-looking, although again, Ryan was unfairly handsome. The man whose shoulder brushed against hers wore a natty retro shirt and had a television smile. “Is that a sour apple martini? I’ll get you another.”
