Joanne Rock - Manhunting Masquerade

by Manhunting Masquerade(Lit)

  Joanne Rock

  Manhunting Masquerade

  Sexually compatible with. If that isn't enough of a challenge, a fortune-teller warns Chloe that she'll be involved in a sizzling love triangle before the night is over.

  Intent on living up to her part of the pact, Chloe walks right up to Eric, gives him a flash of her bright-red garters, and suggests they slip out for a tryst. Eric is not fooled by her disguise, however, and Chloe must decide if she's got the nerve to go through with her naughty proposition. Before she can work up her courage, who should appear but the man who broke her heart back in high school, Austin Radley! Austin forms the third side of the predicted triangle, but as far as Chloe is concerned, he lost his chance long ago. It's Eric she wants now. And he needs no persuading to follow her upstairs to her hotel room for a night that exceeds both their expectations. But will Chloe regret her actions in the morning?

  "Read ’em and weep, honey." The fortune-teller edged one finger beneath a giant swami’s hat to itch her forehead. "You drew the Knight of Cups, the Queen of Swords, and the Knight of Swords. Then when you wanted more clarification, you drew the Lovers card. How much more clear could your reading be?"

  "Much." Chloe Leclaire glared at the spurious fortune-teller — actually Glenda, a clerk from Chloe’s law firm — across the light of a flickering silver candle and a table draped in red silk and tarot cards. "Having been nominated most dull coed in my college sorority two years straight, I can honestly say this racy love triangle prediction makes no sense."

  Chloe had attended tonight’s Silk Masquerade, a Heart Society fund-raiser, in order to support her largest client and to fulfill a pact she’d made with her girlfriends. Said girlfriends, Lexi and Amanda, were currently disguised as Cleopatra and Marie Antoinette and were oohing and aahing over the outrageously romantic reading the phony fortune-teller insisted on providing for her.

  "I haven’t seen one marginally eligible bachelor tonight, ladies," Chloe returned. Heaven knew she’d searched the crowd for Eric Matteo — a sexy financier and the one bachelor who’d been lurking through her dreams lately — but he was nowhere to be seen in the glittering crowd. "I hardly think I’m going to end up like the queen here and have to choose between two dashing knights."

  Amanda leaned forward to tug on the shoulder of Chloe’s red lace gown. "But isn’t it sort of serendipitous that you came dressed as the Queen of Hearts tonight? Maybe Glenda is right."

  "Let me get this straight." Cleopatra/Lexi leaned over the fat crystal ball perched on the table and stabbed the Knight of Cups with one long red talon. "This guy is the romantic idealist." She walked her fingers across the table to the Knight of Swords. "And this guy represents turbulence and change?"

  Glenda sighed. "You’re taking it a bit literally, but yes, I guess so."

  Chloe pushed away from the table, having heard enough about romance and love tonight to last her 10 lifetimes. "Okay, girlfriends. The nonstop talk of romance has migraine written all over it. There’s not a snowball’s chance in Maui that a stick-in-the-mud former debutante like me will be torn between two guys tonight. I vote we get to work fulfilling the pact we made and settle for finding one guy apiece tonight."

  Marie Antoinette rose. "It’s your 25th birthday, Chloe. You call the shots tonight." She extended her pinky finger toward her friends. "I’m still in, if you guys are."

  Cleopatra flashed a grin, her kohl-rimmed eyes alight with mischief. "Are you kidding? Any time we make a pact to be wild and daring, I’ll be first in line to meet the challenge." She locked pinkies with Amanda, then turned expectantly to Chloe. "Come on, Squire Leclaire. Pony up the promise."

  Chloe recalled the pact they’d made over one too many margaritas at lunch. They’d promised to each wrangle a man at the Silk Masquerade, to use the opportunity of anonymity to live dangerously, flirt recklessly, and proposition aggressively.

  Normally, Chloe would never be so bold anywhere outside her law office or a courtroom. But turning 25 had made her realize she needed to start taking more chances, to start having some fun before she ended up as reserved and stiff-necked as the rest of her blue-blooded family.

  She pulled her red silk mask over her eyes and proffered a pinky.

  "Let the manhunting begin." She’d find a man to fraternize with tonight if it killed her — even if it wasn’t Eric. Besides, the man might be hot enough to infiltrate her dreams on a regular basis, but his bottom-line, corporate-shark mentality would no doubt make them incompatible for anything more than a brief, high-sizzle encounter. "I’ve never lost a case — or a bet — yet."

  They clenched pinkies and let out a girlie-whoop that went back to shared boarding school days. Chloe ducked out of the fortune-teller’s tent and back into the masquerade ball, Glenda’s voice shouting in her wake, "Be prepared for turbulence and change!"

  Chloe pretended not to hear.

  If she was going to follow through on her vow to be more daring, she didn’t want to think about the shock waves that might result in the aftermath.

  Cleopatra and Marie Antoinette parted ways — dividing the room to conquer their men and leaving the Heart Queen to her own devices. Chloe absorbed the mix of perfumes in the crowded hotel ballroom. Pink festoons blanketed the walls while a garland of red silk hearts covered everything else, including the light fixtures, the freestanding bars and the waitresses’ short skirts.

  A high school prom in nightmarish proportions, thankfully peopled by men who normally dressed up in Armani as opposed to rented rayon tuxedos. Not that Chloe had seen a great deal of her own prom, considering she’d spent half the night in the bathroom crying her eyes out over the one guy she’d ever been willing to risk her heart with.

  Now, Chloe’s gaze raked over every possible male candidate under 50. Make that under 45. She crossed off the first 15 she spied within no more than 10 seconds, her lawyer’s mind accustomed to making quick assessments and sizing up people at a glance. Then, realizing she’d cross off the whole room in another half an hour, Chloe closed her eyes and told herself to slow down. She took slow, deep breaths and reopened.

  Only to find Eric Matteo in her line of vision.

  The Roman gladiator at two o’clock would give Russell Crowe a run for his money. Eric stood in bronze-plated glory not 20 feet from her, his mask nowhere to be seen.

  Would he recognize her in her costume tonight? Maybe her mask would allow her the anonymity to finally have that brief, sizzling encounter she’d been dreaming about without having to confront their past courtroom clashes, or the fact that Eric represented so much about her blue-blooded world she was running from.

  Thanks to her masquerade, she’d show him a different side of herself tonight.

  Something a little more daring.

  Starting right now.

  Chloe tossed her curls over one shoulder and closed the distance between her and Eric Matteo. She didn't dare give herself time to think about what she was going to say, or what she was going to do. With the assurance of her hidden identity, she would just say the first thing that came to mind when she reached him.

  Shoving between a caped vampire and a gloved Michael Jackson impersonator, Chloe glided to a halt in front of her gladiator soon-to-be-lover and gave her full red skirts a little shake — just enough of a flounce to be sure the slit in the hem provided a glimpse of the bright red garters she'd invested in for tonight.

  "I found a balcony two doors down that would make a perfect trysting place," she blurted, her words chasing one another in a rather less-than-sultry rush. "Care to join me?"

  Eric stared at her for a long moment, his intense brown eyes absorbing every last inch of her red
dress.

  "Depends if we're really trysting or if you're just warming up for another round of Crucify the Witness, I guess. What exactly did you have in mind, Chloe?"

  Horrified to be identified within the first 10 seconds of her covert mission, Chloe nearly teetered right off her two and half inch heels. "How did you know it was me?"

  Eric stepped closer to slide one finger beneath her red, feathered mask and peeled it away from her face. "I'd know those red curls and that flowery scent anywhere."

  The warmth of his touch tripped through her until she barely managed to suppress a sensual shiver. She frowned, more than a little embarrassed to be recognized so early in the game. "But I always wear my hair up in court."

  "That whole time you were cross-examining me right into a deadlock jury, I was thinking about what it would look like if I took it down. " He reached to touch one springy lock. "I have a pretty good imagination."

  A rush of heat stole through her at his words. She'd nearly lost that case because it had been so difficult to concentrate while cross-examining him. What woman could think straight with a man — especially this man — looking at her like that? Well, that wasn't a concern anymore, thanks to a closed case and a new day. Or night, as it were. Before she could figure out how to extricate herself from an exceedingly awkward situation, Eric flashed her a wicked grin.

  "Now, what were you saying about a tryst?"

  Chloe bit her lip, knowing it would be far more daring — and difficult — to proposition him since her cover had been blown. Did she have the nerve? She looked around the room for a glimpse of Lexi or Amanda, anything to give her the final nudge to take that last adventurous step.

  Instead of finding a thumbs-up from Cleopatra, however, Chloe's eyes locked on the only other man she'd ever propositioned in her life. The man who'd turned her down, despite her most heartfelt attempts at seduction.

  Austin Radley.

  Chloe hadn't confronted Austin since that night he'd roared out of her life on his father's Harley. The night of the prom that had broken her high school heart, while Austin had pursued his own dreams at an out-of-state college.

  Yet here was Austin, the man who'd been the focus of her every girlhood dream, homing in on her through the glittering Manhattan party as surely as if he'd been tracking her with radar. And damned if he wasn't dressed as a medieval knight — complete with shining armor. Or did they call that chain mail? Either way, he wore some sort of silvery metal shirt over his very impressive chest, and a sword strapped to his side.

  "Chloe?" Austin's voice mingled with Eric's as they said her name in unison.

  The fortune-teller's warnings floated back to her. Who would have believed she, Chloe Leclaire - smart-girl-in-the-front-row-turned-boring-attorney - would be standing between the two most gorgeous men in the room tonight?

  She couldn't play vamp to Eric with Austin looking on. She needed to settle this, here and now. Turning to Eric, she asked, "Would you excuse me?"

  He nodded, but his dark brown eyes were alert. "I'm not going anywhere."

  Chloe turned to greet Austin, who didn't waste any time with talk, preferring to kiss her full on the lips instead.

  His mouth brushed hers, warm and inviting. Seven years after the last time he'd kissed her, and he still teased her senses with the same cologne. She couldn't deny the leap of her pulse at his touch. Or ignore the heat of Eric's watchful gaze.

  "It's been a long time," Austin whispered in her ear before pulling away. His green eyes raked over her dress and he smiled the killer grin — complete with dimple — she'd never forgotten. "You look gorgeous."

  "You don't look so bad yourself." Determined to play it cool until she at least figured out his intent, Chloe took an extra step back to give herself a little more breathing room. Thinking room.

  Sure she wanted to be daring tonight, but it looked like she could be in for some difficult choices. She wanted to be sure her ability to reason wasn't compromised by a stray whiff of men's cologne. "What are you doing here?"

  Austin snagged her hand and kissed the palm. "Isn't it obvious? I'm here for you."

  How long had Chloe waited for Austin to say those words? Far too long, in her opinion. Besides, she had a red-hot gladiator waiting 10 feet away and ready to engage in sensual battle with her tonight.

  "I’m sorry, Austin." She withdrew her hand from his, but not without a little trepidation. Was she doing the right thing walking away from a lighthearted man who knew how to have fun for a too-intense corporate shark? "It’s nice to see you again, but I’m with the gladiator."

  For tonight, anyway.

  Austin’s surprise showed for all of two seconds before he masked it behind that sexy dimple. "Who can argue with the Queen of Hearts?" He offered her a knightly bow and then disappeared into the throng, straight toward a luscious brunette in a green Victorian riding habit.

  She didn’t have a moment to miss him. She sensed Eric’s presence behind her, the heat of his bronze-covered chest at her back, before he opened his mouth to speak.

  "Call me crazy." She turned to face him, his broad shoulders blocking the rest of the party from her gaze. She took one of the champagne glasses from his hands. "But I thought I’d at least see if there was something to all this tryst talk we were having before I get swept off by any medieval knights."

  "Smart woman." He clinked her glass with his. "Here’s to the lure of Rome." Then he leaned closer to whisper in her ear. "And the promise of trysts yet to come."

  * * *

  Eric watched Chloe bite her lip between sips of her champagne. But he was also close enough to feel the shiver of anticipation shimmy through her at his whispered words.

  No way could he allow any time for buyer’s remorse to set in. She’d chosen him tonight, and he would do everything he could to make damn sure she never regretted it for a minute.

  He plucked her drink from her hand and set both their glasses on a passing waiter’s tray. "Of course, I wouldn’t dream of jumping the gun and taking you up on that tryst just yet." He put both hands on her waist and steered her toward the dance floor, trying his best not to get totally distracted by the soft curve of her willowy body, the gentle sway of her satin-covered hips. "First, we dance."

  They nudged past a scantily clad Wonder Woman and a saucy tavern wench who blew him kisses behind Chloe’s back. A French maid and a sexy cowgirl winked his way, too, but all Eric could think about was the delicious redhead he finally had his hands on.

  As they hit the floor, he spun her into his arms. She landed flush against his chest just as a sultry Latin ballad began. Eric thanked Fate for his continued streak of good luck. Chloe’s breasts swelled above the low scoop of her red gown to brush against him as they danced. He anchored her to him with one arm and guided her around the floor with his other.

  The flowery scent that had teased him throughout their shared days in court now enticed him closer and closer. He settled for grazing her temple with his cheek so that he could talk while they moved together. "I came here tonight hoping to see you again."

  She peered up at him, cheeks surprisingly pink for a woman who made a name for herself cutting witnesses down to size on the stand. "How did you know I would be here?"

  "I looked up your client list online and noticed the Heart Society among others. I already had the invitation for the Silk Masquerade by then and figured an aggressive young lawyer like you would attend to support her client." He edged his fingers lower on her waist to graze her hip. She followed him effortlessly around the floor, making him wonder how well matched they’d be off the floor.

  "You think I’m aggressive?" Suspicious blue eyes seemed to weigh his words.

  "You talked your witnesses into so many circles you ended up deadlocking a case that should have been a clear-cut decision against you. Hell, yes, I think you’re aggressive."

  She smiled, her red lips curling into a satisfied grin he hoped to see in other — more private — situations. "You’re still mad abou
t that?"

  He hadn’t meant to talk business. He’d intended to talk about her. All his life he had been driven in his career, determined to prove himself to a family certain he’d fail. But Chloe made him want to forget all about that, made him want to focus solely on doing anything in his power to make sure she left this shindig on his arm tonight.

  But maybe if they didn’t address their shared history they’d never get around to making new — more pleasurable — memories. "You mounted a case for the Broadway Historical Society to preserve a building that has no business in downtown Manhattan anymore, effectively barring an ambitious cultural center from finding a great home downtown. I wouldn’t say I’m mad so much as I am frustrated with the outcome of that case. But that doesn’t have anything to do with us right now."

  As the music ended, Eric twirled her away from him in a flurry of red satin skirts and then reeled her back into him. Tightly. "I’d rather focus on some otherways you could be aggressive tonight."

  The heat of Eric's body surged right through Chloe's satin gown. If that molten temperature was any indication of how much he wanted her, tonight was going to be every bit as sizzling as Chloe had imagined.

  She stood motionless in his arms, caught up in the hum of desire between them even though the rest of the dancers on the floor had already shifted gears into an updated tango rhythm. "Do you care to clarify exactly what you mean by that, Mr. Matteo? In what ways would you like to see me be more aggressive?"

  His cheek brushed her temple as he leaned closer. "Ever the lawyer, aren't you, Chloe?" He trailed his hand possessively over the curve of her waist, the flare of her hip. "In this case, I'd be happy to spell it out for you, counsel."

  He steered her toward the edge of the dance floor, into the shadows and away from the swirl of bright costumes and sequined skirts. "I don't want you to hide behind that cool lady-lawyer mask of yours any longer." He cupped her cheek with one warm palm. "And while you're at it, I also want an uncensored view of those red garters you're wearing, but I don't want to have to hunt for them under all those skirts." His thigh grazed hers as they spoke, making her all too aware of the gossamer cling of her silky stockings. "I want you to show them to me. Slowly."