“We need to talk. My apartment in an hour. Be there or else.”
Or else what? It sounded ridiculous threatening the Titan god of destruction—the man was twice her size and Lord knows how many times stronger.
“An hour.” She thought she detected a hint of amusement in his voice.
She hung up on him.
By the time she’d made it to the ground floor and was out in the warm evening air, she felt so much better.
It was time to take charge. Kyle had warned her to stay away from Mack. Well, she would. Right after she’d told Mack what a lowlife he was.
It wouldn’t be difficult. After all, he was just a man. Not a Titan.
CHAPTER NINE
Okay, so the trap wasn’t a good idea.
Just routine, Mack had told himself a hundred times all the way across town to her apartment. As a suspect, Gemma had to know this could happen. But he already knew she wouldn’t see it that way. Right now, he was just a bastard who’d screwed her, then set her up.
And she was right, plain and simple.
He might be relieved that she hadn’t fallen for it, but there was no use in telling her that. Fact was he no longer believed she was involved in the fraud.
Well, almost.
Mack was halfway through his knock when the door flew open with a whoosh. Her expression he could only guess at—he was totally focused on everything below her neck. And Jesus, if the sight of black hot pants and a white, supershort tank top didn’t test his restraint to the limit, he had yet to figure what the hell would. But dammit, he wasn’t going to go there. Temptation incarnate might be standing three feet away, but it was time to finally get professional and stop thinking with his dick.
Keep a lid on things, Buchanan.
Her eyes fell suspiciously on the brown bag in his hand. “What’s that?”
Mack looked up and forced a grin, fighting his last brain cell not to take another eyeful of everything she’d put on display for him. An invitation? Hardly. With that scowl, he’d be lucky to get out alive.
“I’m guessing you haven’t eaten.”
Her blue eyes flashed.
“I didn’t invite you here to eat.”
Apart from giving him an ear-bashing about what a bastard he was, exactly what did she want him here for? Not to kiss and make up, that was for sure. There had to be some reason, even it was just to tease him with a show of skin. She’d done that before. She was damned good at it.
“As I remember, it was more of an order.” Mack held the bag out like a peace offering. “You like Italian?”
She glared at the bag, then swept a less-than-casual glance over his jeans and T-shirt before turning away, sashaying herself to the kitchen, her ass displayed to perfection in the tight shorts, her dark hair a silky tumble down her back. One thing was for sure: the heat between them hadn’t cooled any.
She slapped two table mats on the counter, followed by plates, cutlery, and glasses, then stood with a hand on her hip, waiting for him to catch up, still scowling.
“Well, what did you bring?”
She might be madder than a hornet, but her interest in food constituted some progress. On his part, it gave him something to think about other than what was under that top. Nothing, from what he could tell.
“Pasta and a bottle of red.” He emptied the bag and gestured for a bottle opener. While he dealt with the wine, she opened the cartons of food and arranged two stools, one on each side of the counter. She wanted distance between them, and he couldn’t say he minded. Right now, he needed all the distance he could get. Hell, did she have to look so damned tempting?
Mack filled two glasses and pushed one across the counter toward her. If she weren’t so mad, this could almost pass for a cozy dinner.
“Fettuccini or penne?” he asked super politely.
Mack hadn’t really expected her to eat with him, but to his surprise, she leaned forward to check the contents, her top slipping sideways to reveal a bare shoulder. Yeah, nothing under there but those perky breasts just begging for his touch.
“Penne, I guess.”
What? Mack dragged his mind back to the food, grateful for the distraction. He tipped the penne onto a plate while she drummed her fingers on her hip.
“Why did you do it?”
Mack knew the question would come sooner rather than later, but it still caught him unprepared. What to say? That this was just standard procedure for him and it could have been much worse? That, for a suspect, she’d gotten off lightly?
“It’s what I do.”
When she picked up her wine, he held his breath, half-expecting her to hurl it at him, but she took a gulp and set it down with a thump. “Is that all you can say, you—you—jerk?”
For a fact, it was, considering his line of work. “If it’s any consolation, I’m glad you didn’t do it.”
“You liar!” She was shouting now.
Mack winced at the loathing in her voice. “I know it’s difficult—”
“Were you at McCallister’s? Waiting for me to go into the safe?” He watched her small hands ball into fists on the countertop, seriously wondering if she was about to put them to use on him.
He slid onto a stool and loaded his plate with fettuccine, aware that her eyes were following his every move. “No, I was at my apartment,” he answered quietly.
“And where’s that?” she snapped.
He tried for calm again. “How about we eat first, then talk.”
She plunked herself down on her stool, ignoring the food, her eyes still glued to his face. “How about you tell me who you work for?”
Mack nodded toward her plate. “It’s good. Try some.”
She started pushing her food around with her fork, frowning—whether in anger or thought he couldn’t tell, but it was probably both.
“Lucy thinks you’re a spy. Are you?”
Lucy Barton. A smart little thing, with a keen nose for sniffing out information. The girl was pretty damn good at it, too. He chuckled inwardly at the memory.
“I thought she was the spy. Her and that friend of hers, Jamie O’Mara.”
Her brow shot up in alarm. “They were only trying to help. You won’t have them fired, will you?”
“Not if they stay out of it.”
He made his voice serious, although to be honest, they hadn’t been a problem. Nosy, yes, but nothing compared to what he was used to. In fact, he’d quite enjoyed having a pair of amateur sleuths on his tail.
“Stay out of what? Isn’t it about time you told me what you do?”
“Not possible,” he answered evenly. She was persistent; he had to give her that. A quality he normally admired, but right now he wished she didn’t have so damned much of it.
His answer set her off again.
“Why not? Isn’t it the least you can do after everything that happened?”
She was furious. And desperately hurt. Mack set his fork down and briefly closed his eyes. He’d put her through hell. Maybe he should give her a few details. No, on second thought, that would only lead to more questions he couldn’t answer without breaching security. Fuck, he must be going soft in the head to even consider it. But then, he’d barely had a rational thought since first laying eyes on her. And dammit, it wasn’t just her body that was wreaking hell with his judgment.
Yesterday at the hotel had given him a glimpse of what he might have had if he hadn’t pursued a career in intelligence. A woman to love. Being loved. He’d wanted to serve his country in the most elite military undercover unit, but it had come at a cost. Spending months in dangerous situations had hardened him to the point where he could no longer afford to care. At thirty-two, he was already a veteran in his field and considered one of the best. Yet he couldn’t deny he liked his work, thrived on the danger and the not knowing where he’d be sent next. All he knew was that wherever it was, he’d be helping to protect the lives of innocent people.
And then all this had happened. A simple, no-action, no-stres
s art fraud job—time off, a semi vacation to give his body time to recover. Never had he expected the work to come with a complication in the form of Gemma Gilmore. If she were any other woman, he’d enjoy her and then walk away when he needed to. It had always been that easy, even necessary in a job where there was no guarantee of survival.
But this woman, with her unforgettable eyes that could snare him in a heartbeat, he couldn’t walk away from. He’d invested more of himself emotionally in her than in any woman—and he barely knew her. She was gutsy, but had a softness and vulnerability that constantly tested his urge to protect her. His job was to get to the truth, but sitting here right now, looking into those beautiful eyes sparking with anger and hurt, he didn’t much like his job.
He opened his mouth, ready to explain why he couldn’t tell her, when she barked another question. “How did you get that wound on your side? Pity it didn’t find your heart.”
Mack gave up on his plan and went back to eating.
“Well, who stabbed you?”
“You wouldn’t know him. Eat.” He pointed his fork at her plate.
Her glare might be able to destroy his retinas at fifty feet, but at least she’d decided to try the penne, even if it was just to pick at the olives. He did his best not to notice when her top slipped further down as she reached for her glass. It was all he could do not to hurdle the counter and rip the thing clear off her body. Man, she sorely tested him.
As if sensing his predatory thought, she straightened and waited until he looked up and met her gaze, her eyes mocking.
“Something wrong, Mr. Buchanan?”
“Why did you go into my wallet?” he said between his teeth, steering the conversation to something—anything—to quell the thought of relieving her of that top.
She didn’t answer, so he pushed harder.
“It was a stupid thing to do. A big risk to take. Why?”
Still no answer. Mack was about to ask again when she looked up, two faint vertical lines appearing between her dark brows while she thought.
“I ... I just thought the numbers must mean something. Actually ... ” She paused to bite her lip. “It was Kyle who figured out it was a safe combination.”
So, he was right. She’d gone straight from the hotel to see Lawrence. Christ, this was just what he needed: jealous of that stuffed shirt. Mack swallowed the lump of resentment rising up his throat. “So what did he advise you to do?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Fair enough. So why did you break off your engagement?” he asked on an impulse, telling himself he had good reason to know, although it was nothing more than his damned curiosity getting the better of him. Frankly, he couldn’t imagine those two together. The fit didn’t seem right, but then, when it came down to it, he knew almost nothing about her, apart from the fact that she was a fiery little thing.
Her chin angled defiantly. “That’s none of your business, either.”
“In other words, he screwed the office junior?”
No fucking way. There was no mistaking that horrified expression. Old Straight-Laced had cheated on her. Man, that was the last thing he expected, considering Kyle had the incredibly sensual Gemma waiting for him at home. That, and the fact the guy just didn’t seem the type to stray.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ... ”
He paused, waiting for a response, but she’d gone silent, so he went on, now wishing he’d kept his frigging mouth shut.
“That must’ve been tough.” Obviously, he’d hit a sore point. Maybe she still wanted her ex. “More wine?”
He’d had only just lifted the bottle when she spoke softly.
“It was ... Kyle was weak. I guess, under the circumstances, it was understandable. After all, I did neglect him.”
Jesus, did she actually blame herself? Why did women do that?
He lowered the bottle. “How so?”
She started twirling her glass around and around on the countertop as if it might offer up an explanation. “I was doing my doctorate. Between McCallister’s and writing my dissertation, I never had any time for anything else. But it was only to be for a few months and then—well, by that time Miranda had started at Cooper and Forney’s, and”—she stopped to moisten her lips—“after that it was over. The big scene. The ring returned. My mother blaming me for pushing Kyle into Miranda’s arms.”
“You want him back?” he asked quietly. He so shouldn’t do this, but dammit, he had to know.
“No.”
He caught the frustration in her tone. She must have been asked that question a hundred times. Mack was more curious now.
“Yet you went to Venice with him.”
She drained her glass in one gulp before setting it down to renew the twirling.
“It was Kyle’s idea. He thought we could work things out, make a fresh start.” She gave a short, forced burst of laughter. “At least I got to see Venetian art.”
Bitterness peppered her response. Whatever their relationship had been, he could only guess. Even so, he couldn’t picture them in a hotel room, fucking their brains out for hours on end.
She stared him straight in the eyes. “We were happy at one time.” It was as if she’d read his thoughts.
He grimaced, suddenly not wanting to know any more about her and her ex. Okay, so he wasn’t the most sensitive guy when it came to women and their myriad problems. But dammit, he wasn’t up for a Dr. Phil session over that jackass. He got to his feet.
“Right, how about I make coffee?”
Mack had barely taken two steps when the question came.
“Do you still think I’m guilty?”
He sat down again and considered for a moment. Gemma couldn’t be guilty. And if that was his idiot libido getting the better of him again, then so be it.
“No.”
She blinked in surprise. “Oh. So what changed your mind?”
“For a start, you’d be on a flight to somewhere safe by now, instead of hammering me with questions.” He nudged her plate with a finger, trying to sound serious. “Now be a good girl and finish your penne.”
She puckered her lips in a pout, sending him a sulky look from under her lashes. Cute.
“I don’t like being told what to do.”
Mack didn’t miss the snag of arousal in her voice. True, he’d been listening for it. He grinned. Yep, this was better.
“Yeah, you do.”
Two spots of red flared high on her cheeks. Plenty of attitude, but his words had heated her. Not that he was having a cool moment himself. Just a hint of her sexual need had sent most of his blood south. At this rate, they’d be replaying yesterday’s sex marathon right here on her kitchen countertop.
“Would you like me to come over there and prove it?” he asked quietly.
“You really think I’d want you now?” Her eyes widened in disbelief.
Going by the way she was checking out his chest, she did.
“Uh-huh, that’s exactly what I think.” Sexual awareness ping-ponged between them.
“God, you’re so full of yourself.”
He grinned, really enjoying himself now. “Well, you did say I was—who was it? Oh yeah, Perses.”
She slid him a sly look. “A Titan who destroys things, that’s you. Kyle says you’re dangerous.”
Fair comment. He’d been told that more than once.
“What else did he say?”
“That I should stay away from you.”
He leaned forward to snare her gaze in his, seeing the wariness creep into the blue depths.
“In that case, Dr. Gilmore, why did you order me here?”
Her chin went up. “Not for what you think.”
Even snooty, she was one big turn-on.
“And what am I thinking?”
She shrugged, not quite avoiding his gaze. “How would I know?”
He dropped his voice. “Come here, and I’ll tell you.”
“No way!”
Yeah, still touchy,
but that was mostly for show. From the way her full lips had parted and her blue eyes deepened to navy pools, she wanted him.
But Mack held back. She expected him to go get her—to pick her up and carry her into her bedroom and take her. But as tempting as the thought was, he wanted her to come to him. Not that he fully understood his own reasoning, but right now, it mattered that this captivating woman make the first move.
She looked puzzled, unsure of what to do with the situation. Mack waited, wondering how long it would take for the penny to drop—maybe it wouldn’t drop, and he’d have to go get her after all. But just when he decided to have her right there in her kitchen, she slowly slid off her stool and walked around the counter to stand in front of him.
She stared at him solemnly.
“Tell me.”
“What, sweetheart?” Mack frowned, confused.
She didn’t answer him. Instead, she put a hand on each of his shoulders and pulled herself onto his lap to straddle him, her eyes laced with mischief.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
He tangled his fingers in her hair, angled her head to kiss her, held her hard to his mouth, plunged his tongue deep. That they were here, doing this, didn’t really surprise him. Before even setting foot in her apartment, he’d half-known this would happen. From the get-go, they’d operated on sexual chemistry. Instant. Spontaneous. There was no fighting it. It was as real as the beautiful mouth that he was kissing. She felt so right in his arms. Everything about her was right, and that was the trouble. He flat-out couldn’t resist her.
She was kissing along his jaw now, the tip of her tongue scraping across his beard bristles.
“Tell me, Perses,” she whispered, dipping down to bite his neck like she meant business. “Tell me now, or else.” She nipped him hard on his tattoo.
Feisty, and so damned sexy.
“It’s best I show you.”
In one swift movement, he whipped her top over her head, tossing it on the floor. If he saw Gemma like this a million times, he’d never stop marveling at her beauty and the stark contrast of her pale slenderness to his own sun-darkened body with its scarred flesh.
Gently, Mack cupped her curvy little breasts, savoring their snug fit in his palms. Her nipples were incredibly sensitive—just the lightest brush of his thumbs was enough to elicit a small moan. He bent her back over his arm to close his mouth over a rosy peak, swirled his tongue around the areola, growling with pleasure when she rose to his mouth.
Whirlwind Romance: 10 Short Love Stories Page 14
