Wickedly Hot

by Leslie Kelly

  So the least he could do for evading her marriage traps was reclaim a family treasure.

  He hadn’t realized, though, until he’d set eyes on Jade, that the job might be so very enjoyable. Getting her naked, helpless and at his mercy might prove to be fun. He just had to keep reminding himself this was a mission. Business, not pleasure.

  Though, honestly, if some pleasure happened into the equation, he didn’t think he’d protest too much.

  2

  “YOU’VE BEEN WATCHING ME,” a smooth voice said, low and melodic and hinting at other words, more sultry words, that he’d rather not say in public.

  Ryan Stoddard. God, he’d come right up to her. Jade hadn’t expected him to make the first move.

  “You’ve been watching me,” she countered, sipping her drink and not turning around. She closed her eyes and did a rapid one-to-ten count to gain control. She couldn’t believe he’d eased around the crowd and snuck up on her while she’d been watching Tally work her magic with the rich businessman.

  On the positive front, she’d only been here an hour and already the object of her revenge scheme had approached her. She was getting almost too good at this clandestine thing. Though, she had to admit, the ability to be noticed in a crowd had come in handy on some of her treasure-hunting jaunts. Particularly with the male targets.

  He moved closer. The fabric of his trousers brushed her bare legs, which were revealed well above the knee in a short jet-black beaded cocktail dress that didn’t quite suit the dress code tonight. The contact stirred her, made something lurch within her.

  “We’ve been watching each other,” he admitted, his voice closer now. Close enough for her to feel his breath on her neck.

  Goose bumps rose there. Goose bumps, for heaven’s sake, as if she hadn’t been practicing this man/woman/ sex thing since before she’d grown breasts. Every Dupré woman knew about seduction, just as every Dupré woman knew about the family history and the many ways to curse someone in the old language.

  “If it makes you feel better to think so, go ahead.”

  He chuckled, obviously not fooled by her cool tone. How could he be when her whole body was practically arching toward him, shifting with imperceptible need? Was the warmth she felt caused by the hot summer night or by his nearness?

  Or by her own anxiety about what she planned to do with this man very, very soon?

  “You look wicked in that dress.”

  Nothing subtle about this man.

  “Compared to the other ladies in their pastels and jewel tones, I mean.”

  She knew darn well he hadn’t been talking about the color of her dress. He’d meant her. That she looked wicked.

  Wicked as in hot. Not bad.

  Which was good, since she didn’t want him to know yet just how bad she could be. Particularly when she had payback on her mind.

  “You mean I’m dressed inappropriately?” she asked, smoothing her hand across the front of her dress in a provocative stroke.

  His response—a laugh—caught her by surprise. When she frowned, he quickly explained. “My landlady tried the exact same move on me not ten minutes ago. Trust me, it works much better on you than it did on someone whose chins almost meet her cleavage.”

  Having no liking for Mamie Brandywine—who’d been downright rude to Jade’s mother on more than one occasion—Jade smiled, and forgave him for his laughter. “You should see her in a bathing suit.”

  He visibly shuddered.

  “I’m sure she’d be happy to join you in the spa.”

  “I’d rather be boiled in oil.”

  “Warm oil. I’m sure she could arrange that, too. She’s, uh, rather fond of her male guests.”

  He raised an offended hand to his chest and shook his head. “You mean, it’s not just me? She wasn’t bowled over by my manly charms and extraordinary looks?”

  Jade couldn’t help it. She let out a little snort, amused by his self-deprecating tone. “Don’t flatter yourself. She’d be trying to get Attila the Hun naked in the hot tub if he were here. I think that’s why she had it installed.”

  “I don’t think the two of them would fit.” Then he added, “And if she’s used it a lot for her ‘dates,’ I think I’d better make a mental note—no hot tub for me.”

  Against her will, Jade reacted to his good humor. She liked his snappy comebacks and quick mind. Then she remembered what had gotten them on the subject of Mamie Brandywine to begin with. “By the way, I was not making a come-hither move.”

  “You weren’t?” he asked, his voice growing husky. “You mean, you didn’t deliberately move your open hand across your breasts, until your nipples got hard against your pretty black dress?”

  She gasped. How on earth did he think he could get away with speaking to a complete stranger, in public, like that?

  He didn’t even pause. “You didn’t intentionally run your thumb under the neckline, inviting a man to imagine the way your skin tastes?” Then he lifted her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “Not to mention your long fingernails just barely scraping across your skin, dipping between your breasts, inviting him to anticipate what it would be like to kiss you there, lick the hollow of your throat, then follow the path your own hand had taken?” He gave her a wicked look, silently daring her to lie. “None of it was intentional?”

  Jade froze, her legs turning to lead and her lips parting to suck in breath. Lord have mercy, what had she gotten herself into here? This man used words the way an artist used paint. He’d woven a spell around her, as heavy and intoxicating as one of Lula Mae’s brews. And he’d done it with only his voice.

  She suddenly began to wonder if she’d made a very serious miscalculation.

  Because instead of being the seducer, she was very much afraid she might end up the one seduced.

  HE HAD HER. HE KNEW IT at that moment. The cool, confident goddess had turned into a stammering high school girl.

  Women. Unbelievable what kind of verbal B.S. they fell for.

  Though, he hadn’t entirely been B.S.’ing. He’d had to force his voice to remain steady as he’d seduced her with words because, in truth, he’d meant everything he’d said. Though, in any other situation, he’d never have been so outrageous and suggestive with a woman he’d just met. The women he knew were the same cool, mature businesspeople he interacted with every day.

  Not like her. Not like Jade. The kind who had him thinking of nothing but what her curves looked like under that black dress, how her mouth would taste, how her hair would feel spread out across his naked chest.

  How she stole from your own family, asshole!

  Yeah. That, too. This hot seductress used her Southern act to convince others she was intelligent, respectable, in control.

  And honest.

  She’d fooled his very astute grandmother into thinking she was a professional restorer of valuable art. That’s how she’d conned Grandmother out of the beautiful Jules LeBeuf portrait. The elderly woman would never have handed over the painting, done by a lesser-known French Impressionist in the 1850s, without believing it was in good hands.

  Such pretty hands. Such soft hands. Such talented hands…most especially when it came to things like picking locks. Or pockets.

  “You seem to think you know how to charm a woman. I suppose you’ve had a lot of experience?”

  Her voice was a little shaky. She was obviously still affected by the outrageous things he, a stranger, had just said to her. But there was also a hard note, as if she had her back up for some reason.

  “No more than any other man,” he said, lifting his shoulders in what he hoped looked like self-deprecation. Then he quirked a brow. “That’s what I’m supposed to say, right? So I don’t appear too confident?”

  “I don’t think that’s possible. You wear your confidence like some men wear their clothes.”

  “Attractive and in good taste, I hope?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of flashy and overdone,” she replied, though h
er insult lacked the punch she’d probably intended.

  “Should I go away?” he asked, knowing the answer.

  She shook her head. “So far you haven’t done anything completely unredeemable.”

  No, she didn’t want him to go away. She was still wrapped in the cozy, intimate place they’d stumbled into here in the midst of all these people. And she was still as affected as he was. He just hid it better.

  Jade began rubbing her hand up and down one bare arm, as if warming herself. But the noticeable goose bumps on her skin weren’t caused by cold—the room was sweltering.

  No, their interaction was putting her entire body on high alert. But before he could call her on it, her attention was diverted by someone who paused to speak to her.

  Ryan watched quietly, silently admitting that he, too, was on high alert. He tried to analyze it. This hot flush of awareness and excitement couldn’t be brushed off as righteous indignation or the culmination of a couple of weeks’ buildup. Being truly honest about it, he believed he’d have reacted just as strongly to Jade Maguire if this really had been a chance meeting at a party.

  Ryan had known a lot of women over the years, and been involved with his fair share. Probably more than his fair share. He’d even come close to commitment, getting engaged to a Manhattan lawyer he’d met at a cocktail party a few years ago. But he hadn’t been able to go through with it, and neither had she. They’d both figured out that while the two of them made a picture-perfect couple, they’d never shared the kind of deep, soul-stirring passion a marriage should have.

  His grandmother would probably never believe it, and she’d laugh in his face if he told her. But one of the main reasons Ryan had never settled down—never even tried to feign interest in any of the women she, his mother and his sister had set him up with over the years—was because of the example his family had set. His grandparents were mad for each other. Ditto his parents. And Jane, his younger sister, was deeply in love with her husband.

  Though he didn’t believe he could fall madly in love at first sight—as other members of his family claimed to have—he did think he was capable of real love.

  And he wanted it.

  His family had set a high standard. Deep inside, he knew he couldn’t settle for less. Unfortunately, so far Ryan had never felt that way about anyone. Never lost his mind, lost his heart or even lost control of his emotions over a single female he’d ever met.

  Which made his instant reaction to this one that much more surprising. And intriguing. He’d never felt as sparking with energy, as…alive with a woman as he did in the brief time he’d known Jade Maguire.

  Before he could take any longer to wonder about it, they were interrupted by Mamie Brandywine. “Well, here you are,” she said to Ryan, giving him a broad smile. Then she turned her attention to Jade. “I’m surprised to see you here. This isn’t your usual crowd, is it?” She shook her head and tsked. “And I must protest, you’re monopolizing our special guest.”

  No love lost between those two, he’d already figured out by Mamie’s earlier comments, so he wasn’t exactly surprised by the woman’s hard tone. Jade responded with a lazy smile and amused silence that practically dared Mamie Brandywine to push harder.

  Mamie didn’t push. And Ryan’s interest in Jade went up another notch. A woman with a lot of nerve, that one.

  Rather than losing the staring contest with Jade, Mrs. Brandywine backed down and turned her attention back to Ryan. She took his arm, saying, “I want you to meet someone. The owner of the inn we were discussing is right over there.”

  The Winter Garden. The inn where he’d be staying, starting tomorrow. He did not want Jade to know he’d be there. It might be enough to make her suspicious when he put Plan B into action.

  Plan A was to seduce her, get close enough to her and try to get her to reveal something that might lead him to the painting.

  Plan B was…well…a little riskier and involved the inn.

  And a pair of handcuffs.

  “You won’t mind if I steal him away, will you, Jade? Surely you can find some other way to amuse yourself,” Mamie said. “There are lots of men here who might find your little ghost stories interesting.”

  “Of course there are, and I’m sure you’ve…met…them all,” Jade said, her smile never fading. All three of them knew her hesitation had been intentional.

  Mamie stiffened as Jade continued pleasantly, “By the way, you do look lovely in your dress. How funny, I think Auntie Lula Mae has a stuffed dead bird in exactly that color.”

  Ryan bit the inside of his cheek to hide a laugh as his landlady’s heavily made-up face went a few shades paler. From behind Jade, he saw another woman—the one in the hoop skirts who’d been talking with Jade earlier—listening intently. At Jade’s cutting insult, the woman grabbed her middle and laughed so hard she almost dropped her drink.

  Okay, so at least one other woman here liked the sultry brunette.

  Before the offended inn owner could muster up a suitable retort, she was joined by a middle-aged man wearing a slightly faded black tuxedo. His horn-rimmed glasses covered a weary-looking pair of eyes.

  Those eyes lit up when the man spied Jade. “Jade, you look wonderful!”

  For the first time since he’d joined her, Ryan saw the young woman loosen up and smile with genuine fondness. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed the man on the cheek. “Hello, Uncle Henry.”

  Ah, more relations. Another thing about the South, everybody was related to everybody.

  “Your mama got off on her cruise all right? Gee, honey, I was so sorry to miss the wedding.”

  Mamie Brandywine’s stiff mouth said she, for one, was not sorry to have missed the wedding.

  “She’s fine. Having the time of her life, I imagine.”

  “Better on the high seas than here causing trouble,” Mamie interjected. “Though I hope the other wives on board keep their husbands close at hand.”

  Jade’s jaw stiffened and her face flushed red. For the first time, it appeared the obnoxious Mamie Brandywine had scored a hit.

  She opened her mouth to retort. But before she could do so, Ryan interceded. “If you’ll excuse us, we were just about to dance.”

  Then, not taking no for an answer, he plucked Jade’s drink out of her hands and put it on the tray of a passing waiter. Taking a strong hold of her arm, he led her away, heading toward the dance floor, feeling her fury and resistance with every step.

  He should have known better than to think she’d let it go. After only a half-dozen steps, she planted her feet and refused to proceed.

  So, instead of allowing the fireworks, he did the only thing he could think of.

  He kissed her.

  JADE HAD BEEN PREPARED for reasoning, an apology, a joke, anything a man might typically do to calm down an angry woman.

  But not this. Not this amazing kiss. Not his mouth teasing the corner of hers, then moving over until their lips met completely. He wasn’t holding her close, wasn’t restraining her in any way. Yet she still felt completely touched. Held. Embraced. By nothing but his lips.

  Somehow, she couldn’t even bring herself to care that she was standing in a crowd of people allowing a complete stranger to kiss her. Maybe because it felt so incredibly good, an unexpected gift of pleasure like suddenly feeling the sun on her face during what had been a cloudy day.

  He didn’t try to deepen the kiss, merely playing with her mouth, letting her lips savor the pleasure of his as they shared breaths and as her anger eased away. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he pulled away and looked at her.

  She couldn’t say a word, could only stare up at him in confusion, her mouth falling open but no sound coming out. He touched her chin with his index finger, pushed her mouth closed and whispered, “Dance with me.”

  Then he slipped his arm around her waist and led her onto the crowded floor. Like Moses parting the Red Sea, his mere presence made people step to the sides, moving away to create room for them. He
nodded his thanks, gave polite smiles and left the women groveling in his wake while the men lifted their chins in annoyance.

  Good lord, no wonder Jenny had fallen for this man. He’d completely taken over this society party, as if he belonged. As if he’d been born here and could trace his ancestry back several generations—as Jade could—instead of coming from some cold northern city where people didn’t know their neighbors’ names, much less their great-grandparents’.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know the latest steps to elevator music,” he whispered as their bodies moved together and began to sway. “But I don’t think rigid as a board is the right position.”

  Jade couldn’t prevent a tiny laugh from escaping between her clenched teeth. She had, indeed, been rigid and inflexible, still trying to deal with his words, with that kiss. Not to mention his…presence. That was the only word to describe it.

  He was so unlike any of the men she’d known or dated. His looks were one thing—good looks were easy to find, and also easy to forget if they weren’t backed up with personality. But this man had more than the looks and the personality. It was his aura, his power, his self-confidence, that she found nearly irresistible. He commanded respect. And, she suspected, he knew how to give it in return.

  Almost against her will, she relaxed against him, the contact causing both instant pleasure and instant tension.

  Bad idea.

  His body was long, thick and hard.

  All over?

  She thrust the naughty thought away, lest it distract her once again from her mission. It didn’t help, particularly when she realized that if things went as planned, she’d be finding out his secrets—size and all—in a very short while. She nearly shuddered at the thought, remembering how lost she’d been because of a simple kiss.

  Maybe you can’t do this after all.

  Can’t, however, was among Jade’s least favorite words. It always had been. Nothing made her give something her all as much as being told she couldn’t do it.