by Brenda Joyce
Nick shook his head. “Impossible.”
Nick was playing a delaying game, Sam thought. Once Ian saw his file, he’d realize there were no horrifying details in it, and he wouldn’t care that CDA had it. He would then continue on with his auction. Or would he?
Ian glanced at her, and in spite of his set face, Sam saw the question in his eyes. She tensed.
She wished she could reveal that he didn’t have to worry about his file. He had every right to cover up his horrific past. She wet her lips. “I told you. I haven’t read it.”
He faced Nick. “Are ye tired of driving a Ford, Forrester?”
Nick raised his eyebrows.
“I’ll give ye one hundred thousand cash fer a copy.” Ian smiled.
“Only a hundred thousand? I can’t be bought, Maclean. And I like used cars, by the way. I like Fords. It’s patriotic. I’ve never wanted a Ferrari.”
“All men want Ferraris. Two hundred thousand dollars fer a copy.”
Nick shook his head. “We need the page, Maclean. We need it so the bad guys can’t have the power.”
Sam wanted to tell Nick to give him a damn copy of his file, and that was not professional of her.
“Name yer price,” Ian snarled.
“The page,” Nick said.
Ian laughed at him. “The page is worth hundreds of millions of dollars—to the right demon!” He gave Sam a cold look as if she’d betrayed him somehow, then whirled and slammed from the room.
Sam fought for control. It took a moment. “That went really well,” she said sarcastically. But what she wanted to do was to run after Ian and tell him that his secrets were mostly safe. He’d been desperate for just a copy of his file—he was desperate to know what everyone knew about him. And she felt for him. What was wrong with her?
Because he was probably going to make a point of selling the page of illusion to evil now.
Nick strode to his window, stared down at Hudson Street and cursed, a long string of mostly unrepeatable epithets.
Jan touched his arm. “I can break him, Nick. Without sleeping with him. He doesn’t have one drop of evil in him. His father is a Master of Time. Let me try.”
Sam went still.
“Go after him,” Nick told Jan tersely. “Do what you think best.”
Sam shook with outrage. She took a deep breath and managed not to change her expression. Jan hurried out, but not before she looked at Sam and said, “This is business.”
“Right,” Sam said. She turned to Nick, trying not to explode.
“What are you, smitten?” he asked. “Maclean has scars that will never heal. And that makes him a renegade.”
Sam shook her head, too angry to speak, and she strode out of his office. Jan was with Ian as he waited for the elevator. He was still flushed. Tension rippled through his body.
Ian jerked away from her when he saw Sam. He strode toward her, his eyes ablaze. “Don’t ever defend me again. I don’t need yer help.”
“Okay,” she said, to placate him.
“I don’t need yer pity, either. The past is the past,” he snarled. “I forgot it long ago.”
Like hell, she thought. “I don’t pity you, Maclean. And I’m sorry I happen to think you shouldn’t have gone through what you did, but then, I’m human. But hey, I will mind my own business from now on—except, of course, in regards to the page of illusion, because it’s my fault that you have it and it’s up to me to get it back.”
Behind them, the elevator door opened. He jerked his collar open, so hard that the fabric ripped. “Then we’re enemies now,” he said.
CHAPTER NINE
GERARD OPENED THE FRONT door and his brows lifted with surprise when he saw her.
Sam smiled at him. It was half past six and she was due at Hemmer’s at seven, but she hadn’t heard from Ian since he’d stormed out of Nick’s office at HCU. She was pretty sure their date with Rupert Hemmer was off. She couldn’t let that happen—and not just because of the DVD.
She was fairly certain he was with Jan, or making plans with her, because Jan sank her teeth into quarry like a terrier did a meaty bone. She wouldn’t let Jan work him.
The afternoon’s meeting at HCU had left her with an almost sick feeling. It was unease, she supposed. Damn it. She hated his involvement with Jan but even more, she hated his distress. Nick should let him have the damn file, even though she knew it wasn’t rational of her to think so.
“Hey, Gerard, how are you today?” Sam was sorry she’d been so rude to Gerard when they’d met in Scotland. If he’d been with Maclean for years, as he claimed, he must have some attachment to his job and, possibly, to his boss. She knew Maclean had no friends—because she knew about his past—and she was glad he had his butler. It was better than nothing at all.
Of course, he had his father. But Ian had walked away from his family as well as everything else. Why?
Apparently, Ian belonged in the past, not in modern-day New York City or Scotland. That idea made Sam uneasy.
If that were true, it meant that if he came to his senses one day, he’d go back. His father would be there, as would be Brie, and even Tabby. Sam was aware of missing her sister as much as ever. She knew she had to get over it. Somehow, she’d go back to see her sooner, rather than later.
Sam sighed. Control seemed to have been banished from her dictionary recently, and she really liked control. But it didn’t matter. Her current job was rescuing Maclean from Jan’s clutches, getting him over to Hemmer’s to play out what Hemmer had begun and going back into that vault. And getting the page out of Maclean’s clutches remained at the top of her priority list. However, after his encounter with Nick, she wasn’t sure how she was going to accomplish that.
Whatever was going to happen next, she was certain it would surprise her.
“His lordship did not mention that you were calling,” Gerard said, his brows still slightly elevated. He was clearly cool to her.
“His lordship probably forgot that we have a hot date with the dark side.”
Gerard’s expression became peculiar. Sam wondered if it was her reference to evil that had disturbed him. Gerard definitely knew a lot more about life than your average mortal.
Of course, Gerard might be discomfited because Ian was entertaining Jan. He seemed classy enough to get bent out of shape over such a trivial detail. Her purse, containing the DVD, almost burned her hand. “Don’t worry,” she told him, still smiling. “Old habits die hard. I’m a party crasher, remember? And trust me, when we’re done with this evening, he won’t mind the interruption, not one bit.” The DVD might become her weapon of choice. A gal never knew when a sex tape might become handy. It might not matter if he’d already seen it, either. But she’d started to think that if he had, he’d have been the one to throw it in her face.
“Do come in, Ms. Rose,” he said tersely.
“Aw, c’mon, Gerard. Surely this isn’t the first time Maclean has had a little party with more than one lady? You must be used to his bad-boy habits by now.” But her sarcasm felt forced. Guys who spent most of their lives as captives would not know how to have relationships. They’d only know the basics—like having sex—and that seemed to be Maclean.
“His lordship is not in his usual temper today,” Gerard said. “And unlike you, his other caller was expected. He did not mention he would be going out for the evening.”
Jan had worked him, and it rankled. She dismissed that. “Let me guess. His other caller is blond, buxom and that new forty? And her name is Jan ‘Barbie’ Bentley?”
“A Ms. Bentley is present, Ms. Rose. You may wait in the green room,” he said. “I will tell his lordship you are here.”
Gerard left. Sam breathed hard, almost dismayed. She reminded herself that she didn’t care if Maclean came on to Barbie, not to mention that Jan would never put out. But no one was going to cut her out of the evening or move in on her gig. To hell with Nick. She was going to be the batter with the big home run—she was going to bring home
the page.
However, as much as Sam hated to admit it, underestimating Jan was a bad idea. This was not a high-school competition. This was a job. But it almost felt like some foolish rivalry.
For the first time in years, Sam felt her confidence waver. In a way, Jan was like Tabby. She was a naturally kind person. Sam could pretend that she wasn’t, but it was a lie. And that was why men went ga-ga over her. The soft smile and kind eyes were real. She was every man’s dream and she wanted to be your dearest friend, too. It sucked, but that was the truth. Ian was probably drooling all over her right now. He would not be immune to the package of lush looks and an ultra-feminine, super kind heart.
Sam was proud of being a soldier. Her duty as a Slayer defined who she was, just as it defined her life. Plenty of women could be nurturing, few could do what she did. Still, she hated the idea of Ian falling under Jan’s “I Am Woman” spell. It even worried her.
Sam shook off her sudden doubts. She’d take care of Jan, ASAP, one way or another. Sam glanced at herself in the gilded mirror on one wall. She was wearing a very tiny teal dress with spaghetti straps. It barely came to midthigh and it was jersey, so it clung to her breasts, torso, hips and thighs. The hefty gauze wrapping on her ribs had been replaced with a wide bandage. Not the doctor’s orders, but to hell with that. She wore silver python stiletto sandals. Unlike Jan, she wore one coat of mascara and lip gloss—she did not need to mask her face to make it look better. She’d stopped traffic while hailing a cab earlier. Three Wall Street types had fought over the privilege of finding a cab for her during rush hour. A chubby married man had actually given her his cab, blushing like Santa Claus. But that might have been a surge in his blood pressure.
Her confidence back, she went down the hall after Gerard.
Gerard was in a large gold and white living room, not far from the pair of carved doors, announcing her. Sam walked past him.
Ian was standing there, at once Armani perfect and Hugo Boss sexy. He looked at her coldly.
Okay, he was still angry because she’d thrown him a pity party. Sam saw that Jan sat on an ivory brocade sofa, in an orange dress, legs crossed, her gaze watchful, an untouched glass of white wine before her. “Hot date?” Sam mocked. “Because it sure looks rocking.”
Jan rolled her eyes. “Ian invited me over for a drink. I made it clear I would continue the earlier conversation.”
“Gee, which conversation was that? The I’m your go-to gal one, or the let’s-screw-him-over one? I hope I’m not intruding.” She turned back to Ian and caught him looking at her legs. His expression hadn’t eased.
Jan said, “I was trying to explain our position to him.”
Sam looked Ian in the eye and did not turn to Jan. “And what position is that? The missionary one?”
Jan sighed. It was too bad that orange was a great color on her. “We’re in a dangerous war. Ian is not evil. Nick was too hard on him. I’m concerned. I want to help.”
“Of course you do.” Sam looked at Ian. “Please don’t tell me you’re falling for the good cop, bad cop routine?”
“Why would I mind talking with a beautiful woman?” He stared coldly at her.
“Because you don’t like talking?”
“Ye talk all the time.”
“Yeah, and it pisses you off.” Sam turned to Jan. “Have you pissed him off yet, or do you have a free pass?”
“I am not abrasive, unlike some people. I happen to believe in talking. It’s called making a deal, by the way—not foreplay.”
“I’ll take the foreplay. And so will Ian, by the way. So good luck—you’ll need it.” Sam said flatly. Then she turned her back on Jan. “Am I right, Maclean?”
Ian’s face tightened. He looked down at her supershort dress again. “Ye still plan on going to Hemmer’s? Or did ye dress fer me?”
“I’m going to Hemmer’s. How could I refuse that invite?”
He darkened.
“What’s wrong? Is my coworker boring you? I really don’t want to interrupt your rational, sex-free discussion. Maybe I should go. I didn’t realize our little sex date was off,” she lied.
He grasped her arm. “Ye won’t go to Hemmer’s alone.”
“Why not? I can certainly provide enough entertainment without you. I’m sure he’ll tape it. If you’re nice to him, maybe he’ll even make you a copy.” He was still angry, she thought. She couldn’t believe it, but she wouldn’t mind seeing his old arrogant, oversexed self again.
“Why do ye care so much about the evil in the vault? Why not just leave it be?”
“It’s my nature, Maclean, like it’s your nature to have Jan over for a drink. She won’t make you happy tonight, Maclean.”
He suddenly pulled her close. “But ye will?”
Sam met his hard, intense gaze. His tense, muscular body quivered against hers in that way she really liked. “I’ve been thinking about it,” she said softly. “I’ve been thinking about two hundred million dollars’ worth of sex.”
He slowly smiled. “Maybe I’ve let ye think about it fer too long.”
“A challenge,” she murmured. “I love challenges. Maybe you have.” She was hollow inside. His lust was all mixed up with the anger and the fear—she somehow knew it—and it was raging.
She knew where that rage could go.
Really, really deep inside.
“So come to Hemmer’s with me so we can play,” she murmured.
“I’m in no mood to be teased tonight,” he warned.
She did not look away from him. “Then why is she on your sofa?”
“Challenges,” he shrugged. He whispered, “I’d never let ye go to Hemmer’s alone.”
Her heart soared. Sam was acutely aware of his hard body against hers now, throbbing. “I didn’t think so.”
For one moment, his gaze became searching. He released her. “Some fear would serve ye well, Sam. So would caution.”
Sam laughed softly. “From one reckless soul to another.” She grinned at Jan. “So have you two reached an understanding? Got the position all mapped out? I mean, all laid out?” She was aware of his hard hip, his hand still on her waist.
Jan stood, clearly annoyed. “In a way, we have. We’re going to finish our drinks, Sam. Privately. He was much calmer and more reasonable until you showed up. Your evening at Hemmer’s can be postponed.”
Like hell, Sam thought. She opened her purse. Ian watched her like a hawk as she handed him the DVD. “I think she’s kicking me out.”
“What’s that?” he asked warily, staring at the DVD before looking up at her.
She knew in that moment he hadn’t seen it. She was triumphant. “Oh, something you might like—a lot. I’d check it before you go to bed. Hell, maybe you can watch it with her over that white wine. Meanwhile, I am really late. Why don’t you come over when you’re done with her?” She turned to leave.
But he caught her arm again, jerking her back against his stiff body. His gaze was narrow with speculation now. Behind them, Jan said, “What are you up to, Sam?”
“Oh, I’m pretty good at providing entertainment. Call it negotiating, call it foreplay, hey, call it sealing the deal, if you want.”
“What’s on the DVD?” Jan asked carefully.
“It was a gift,” Sam said softly. She looked at Ian. Desire sizzled between them. “From our favorite bad guy.”
His eyes widened. Then he let her go and strode across the living room with the DVD in hand. Sam saw a laptop sitting on an antique desk. Her body was humming and hot. The aching had begun some time ago, maybe way back when they’d first met in Oban. It was explosive now.
Jan followed Ian across the room, her expression distasteful. She gave Sam a dark look as she passed her, clearly not trusting her.
Sam tried not to laugh. “What are you, his shadow?”
“If I understood you, the DVD is from Hemmer,” Jan said. “Have you mentioned it to Nick?”
“Not really,” Sam murmured as Ian sat down at the desk.
Jan walked over to him and said, “You should be careful.” She glanced up at Sam. “Why do I have the feeling that this is a trap?”
“I was given the DVD, Jan. It wasn’t my idea.”
Ian slid the DVD into the drive. “She can trap me any time.”
Jan said, “I hope your jealousy hasn’t shredded the last of what used to be your good judgment.”
Sam couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, and pigs can fly like his taxicab did yesterday. I am so not jealous.” She wasn’t exactly certain about how Jan would react to the tape, but she hoped she’d be embarrassed—no, mortified.
And Ian was going to be on her hook, squirming. Ian was going to lose all control.
Jan looked from her to Ian and back again as the PC whirred. “You know,” she finally said, “you can be a bitch—but I don’t hate you—even though you hate me. You only hate me because I’m attractive and closer to Nick than you are. I actually respect you, Sam, even if you’re hung up a hundred different ways.”
“Gee, I’m touched,” Sam said, and then she heard her own gasp of pleasure.
Ian had been waiting for the DVD to play, his gaze on the screen. He went still.
Jan glanced at the monitor and turned red.
Sam forgot Jan. She watched Ian. He was rapt. His expression was hard, his gaze riveted now. She knew exactly what he was watching. She’d replayed that first scene and a few others a few times.
Jan walked out; Sam barely noticed.
The air in the room had changed. It was charged now, on fire.
Ian’s gaze never left the monitor as his eyes darkened impossibly. He sat down. She saw his chest rise and fall beneath the dark T-shirt he wore. “Come here,” he said softly.
This was it, she thought. “Only if you say pretty please.”
His shoulders stiffened and he tore his gaze from the monitor. His eyes were blinding, as bright as lightning. “Do ye really think ye can tease me with a tape?”
“I sort of know it,” Sam said dryly. “Wouldn’t you rather come with me to Hemmer’s than stay here with a born-again virgin?”
