“So?”
“So, I don’t sing.”
“Neither do I. I come to watch the other people.” Blake led him across a packed room and over to two empty stools at the bar. “Order whatever you want. My treat.”
They gave the bartender their ale choices as a new duet started on stage. The off-key rendition of an eighties power ballad would’ve caused paint to peel and Owen covered his ears, laughing. “Jesus, I haven’t heard pitiful wailing like that since the war.”
“Most of them aren’t that bad.” Blake took a swig from his bottle then glanced past Owen toward the front door, his smile turning wicked. “Well, look at that. Maybe you’ll have a chance to question your favorite little cheater again after all.”
Owen followed Blake’s pointing finger to two women who’d just arrived.
Faye Wagner and… Oh, shit!
He narrowly avoided choking on his beer and narrowed his gaze on his cousin. “What the fuck, man? Did you set this up?”
“Me? Nah.” Blake scrunched his nose and held up his hands in innocence, his bottle of ale dangling from his fingers. “Like I said, your dealer was long gone when I went looking for her. But I will say it again, the ladies can’t resist me, man. Is that the Faye in question? If so, I’ll be glad to find out what she knows.”
“Charming my ass. And yeah, it is.” Owen gave Blake a disparaging look to go with his scowl. “Henry’s more charming than you.”
“Smile.” Blake nudged him on the shoulder and pointed toward the women again. “Here they come. You wanted to know more about Alison and what she’s hiding, right? Here’s your chance.”
* * *
“C’mon.” Faye grabbed Alison’s arm and tugged her forward. “Let’s get something to drink at the bar.”
Alison trailed after her, not given much choice with her friend’s persistent grip, then halted abruptly when she spotted the two men staring back at them from the bar.
Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.
“Faye. Faye, stop. I can’t go up there. Owen’s here. You know, the guy who’s the reason I’m leaving.” She pivoted fast to head for the door again. “I’m out of here.”
Faye kept ahold of her arm, however, halting her after two steps. “Calm down, Al. I’m sure he's just here having a drink. He's not going to arrest you or anything.”
“Yeah?” Anger welled inside her. “What if he does! What if he ... hey wait a minute. Did you set this up?”
“No, really. I had no idea he was going to be here. I swear.” Faye pulled her closer and whispered. “Act normal, okay, and everything will be fine.”
Act normal? Easy for Faye to say.
I hate lying. I’ve never been a good liar.
No wonder Copernatech finally caught me.
“Let’s go.” Faye tugged her forward again. “Looks like a couple of stools opened up.”
“Who’s the other guy?” Alison asked, her gaze locked on Owen.
“His name’s Blake Rockford,” Faye said, maneuvering them through the throngs of partiers. “He owns Rockford Security. Another McHottie, if you ask me.”
The only “McHottie” Alison was interested in tonight was Owen, and not for his pure male sexiness. Definitely not. And as if one snooping guy wasn’t enough, now she had two Rockfords poking their noses into her private, personal past.
What if they see through my disguise? What if they expose my secrets? What if…
She smoothed her hand down the front of the royal blue wrap dress. Not her usual conservative style, by any means. Far too low-cut and curve hugging for her taste. Faye had insisted on doing her hair and makeup too, teasing and primping her to within an inch of her life. If she was leaving this life behind, Faye had insisted, she might as well do it in style.
Now, though, as Alison stared down the man who’d haunted her thoughts and her steps for days, Alison felt way more vulnerable than she ever had before. From the strong set to his shoulders to the spark of fire in his warm brown eyes, Owen Rockford looked like a force of nature. A force she wasn’t sure she’d survive.
Faye glanced back at her and frowned. “Relax. You look like you’re headed for a firing squad.”
Sudden irritation fired Alison’s blood, dissolving some of her fear. “How am I supposed to relax? I tell you this guy’s following me and what do you do? You force me to talk to him. For all I know, he’s a psycho stalker.”
“He’s not a stalker.” Faye stopped and faced her once more, only feet away from the two men. She placed her hands on Alison’s shoulders and looked her directly in the eye, her voice calm. “Listen to me. This is all a big misunderstanding. Talk to him. Tell him the truth and let him see the wonderful, smart, beautiful woman I love. He’ll realize you’re not the cheater he’s looking for and all will be well, okay? Maybe you'll even realize that you can stay after all.”
Like life’s ever that easy.
As if sensing Alison’s reluctance, Faye changed tactics. “One drink. We’ll have one drink and if you’re still uncomfortable, then we’ll leave and I’ll go wait at the train station with you. Deal?”
Alison doubted she could force any words past her constricted throat at this point, but given the tightly packed crowd and the lights, which had now dimmed to a hypnotic blue from the bright pinks and yellows of earlier, she needed to give her eyes time to adjust anyway before making her escape. “Fine. One drink. That’s it.”
“Perfect.” Faye tugged Alison to the bar and ordered them both a Hurricane before turning her attention to the Rockford men. “Hello, Mr. Rockford. And Mr. Rockford. Fancy seeing you two here.”
“Fancy, huh?” Owen muttered, taking another swig of his beer while watching Alison over the rim. “I’ve got another word for it.”
“Ms. Wagner,” Blake said, from over Owen’s shoulder, then extended his hand. “We haven’t officially met, but Owen filled me in about you. And please call me, Blake.”
“Nice to meet you, Blake.” Faye shook his hand and batted her eyelashes, in full flirt mode now. It was almost enough to make Alison gag. She would’ve too, if she could do more than stare like an idiot around Owen. Faye took a sip of her drink and smiled. “You sing, Blake? And feel free to call me Faye.”
“Only when forced, Faye.” Blake returned Faye’s smile with a polite one of his own, his somewhat stiff demeanor at odds with Faye’s overt come-ons. The guy looked several years older than Owen and whatever else might run in the family, the handsome gene was certainly one of them. With his tailored suit and chiseled face, Blake Rockford was all debonair swagger and lethal confidence. Exactly the type Faye went gaga over. Never mind he seemed oblivious to her friend’s advances. “Care to move closer to the action, Faye?”
“I’d love to get closer to your action, Blake.”
Alison did roll her eyes at that one, shaking her head as she watched her friend bail on her, leaving her alone with Owen. She took a larger than normal sip of her own giant-sized, neon blue Hurricane and wrinkled her nose at the burn in her throat. Deceptively frou-frou and fruity, these suckers packed quite a wallop. Given the fact she’d only had popcorn for dinner, she’d be on her ass in no time flat if she kept this up.
She glanced over to find Owen Rockford still watching her, his expression stoic, though a small muscle ticked near his tense jaw. Apparently, he wasn’t as relaxed as he wanted her to believe either.
When in doubt, revert to math.
Math was straight-forward. Math didn’t lie. Math didn’t betray you the way people did.
She tucked a stray red curl behind her ear and grinned. “What did Al Gore play on his guitar?”
Owen remained silent.
“An algorithm.” She snorted, loud enough for people closer by to turn and stare at her. Embarrassed heat prickled her cheeks and she stared down at the bar again. So much for small talk. “Get it? Al Gore rhythm. Sorry. That was bad.”
“Awful.” His voice sounded lower than she remembered. Rougher. Sexier. “I’ve had it past the poi
nt with math. Math is useless to me right now.”
“That’s not true.”
“Branching out into polygraph tests too now?”
“No.” She took a deep breath. “Math isn’t useless, especially to someone in your profession, Mr. Rockford.”
“Owen.”
“Okay, Owen. But only if you call me Alison.”
“Fine.” He took another gulp of beer. “Explain please, Alison.”
“People use math every day, they just don’t realize it. Take being in security. How many times do you walk into a room at your casino and calculate the number of heads in a crowd to make sure you’re not overcapacity? Or watch the tables, guesstimating the probability that someone will prove troublesome?”
“I don’t know.” Owen tapped on the bar to order another beer. “I prefer listening to my gut versus my brain when it comes to troublesome situations. Not numbers.”
“You might not do it consciously.” She turned down the bartender’s offer for another Hurricane. “But math is still there, lurking in the background. Perhaps if you embraced it, you’d be even better at your job.”
“Really?”
“How many people are in the Lucky Ace at any given time? Three hundred? Five hundred? More?” She took another sip of her drink. “For a nice round number, let’s say a thousand people. With all those people, what made you single me out as a cheater? Your gut?” When he didn’t respond, she smiled. “Sorry, but if you analyzed the data mathematically, you would’ve seen I lose as much as I win. Hardly an effective strategy, if I had one. I mean, if I was cheating, wouldn’t I want to win all the time?”
“Nope.” He twisted the cap off his new beer and took a drink. “Not if you’re smart.”
“I’m flattered.”
He stopped mid-sip. “Why?”
“That means you think I’m intelligent. And I am. Just not that kind of intelligent.”
The alcohol in her system buzzed through her bloodstream, lifting her inhibitions and flushing her body with warm relaxation. Apparently it was doing the same to him, if the way he swayed slightly toward her was any indication. His knee brushed hers under the bar and sent shock waves of awareness through her.
“I do think you’re smart, Alison.” Owen set his beer aside and leaned closer, his warm brown gaze dropping to her lips before returning to her eyes. “Maybe too smart for your own good.”
“Is that so?” Mesmerized by his strength and heat, she moved closer to him as well. It had been so long, too damned long since anyone had touched her, held her, loved her, that she craved the intimacy of sex more than her next breath. “How are you going to test that theory, Owen?”
“Like this.” His hot breath ghosted over her face, minty and sweet and infinitely erotic. This close, she saw the firm softness of his lips, the tiny flecks of gold in his irises, the hint of dark stubble on his jaw.
What would that stubble feel like against my skin, my breasts, between my thighs…
Moisture gathered in her core. He was so close now, all she had to do was move forward, press her lips to his, taste him at last…
“That was so much fun!” Faye’s perky voice interrupted and Alison straightened fast, breathless and slightly dizzy. Owen blinked at her several times, his eyes hooded and his cheeks flushed, looking as dazed as she felt. “We should definitely come back here again, Al. You ready to go?”
“Sure,” she mumbled, uncertain her shaky legs would carry her as far as the door, let alone all the way to the train station. “Okay.”
“Right.” Faye helped her off her stool then placed a steadying arm around her waist. “Well, thanks for a fun time, Blake. Owen. See you both later.”
They weaved back through the crowd toward the front door and it wasn’t until they were outside again that Faye stopped and leaned Alison against the brick wall of the building. “Are you sure you’re fit to travel tonight?”
Alison stared at the sidewalk beneath her feet, Owen’s face swimming before her like a mirage. No. She wasn’t safe to travel anywhere tonight. It was a good thing Faye had returned when she did, actually, before she’d tackled Owen Rockford to the floor of Glam and had her wicked way with him in front of God and everyone else.
She’d be out the price of her train ticket, but that seemed a small price to pay for a clear head and a clear plan for her future. “Maybe I should sleep this off at your place then figure out what to do in the morning.”
“That’s my girl,” Faye hailed a cab then took hold of Alison once more. “Sleep it off and things will look different in the morning, I promise.”
Six
Owen walked into his apartment half an hour later and tossed his keys on a side table by the door. After three beers and the almost kiss with Alison, all he wanted was a cold shower and a night of uninterrupted sleep.
He still couldn’t quite believe he’d come so close to slipping up. Especially with someone like Alison. Frowning, he headed down the short hall toward his bedroom. One relationship with a lying cheat was more than enough for him, thanks very much. Never mind Alison had done nothing but proclaim her innocence tonight. She’d been too eager, too wary of opening up about her past.
Nope. No doubt about it.
Alison James was definitely hiding something and that was unacceptable.
After all, Faith had done that too, once upon a time.
Faith…
Jesus. Even five years later the pain was still fresh.
Temples pounding and head swimming with alcohol and memories, Owen clicked on the lights in his bedroom only to find an excited Peaches sitting on the middle of his mattress, tail thumping and goofy dog grin in full force.
“Dammit, Shelby.” He dug his phone out of his pocket and speed dialed her number, but it went straight to voicemail.
Shit. A quick glance at his bedside clock showed two-fifteen in the morning. Of course, she’d be in bed by now, like any normal, sane person. He left a terse voicemail and hung up then turned back to Peaches, resigned.
Looks like I’ll have a sleeping companion after all.
He sank down on the edge of the bed, more exhausted than he could remember, and glanced over at his unexpected canine companion. “You better not snore.”
As if in response, Peaches went down on her front paws, hiking her butt in the air with her tail still going. Classic play position. She nuzzled his hand then licked the back of it, whining.
“All right, girl.” He couldn’t help chuckling at her playful demands for attention and scratched her behind the ears. Peaches rolled over and exposed her belly, all four of her legs spread wide and her expression one of pure ecstasy. “Not one for modesty are you, girl?”
Laughing, he headed into the bathroom where he jammed on the shower and stripped then stepped under the cool spray, grateful for the brisk temperature and the time alone to think about what Alison had said.
What made you single me out as a cheater? Your gut?
Her question continued to swirl in his brain like a cockeyed tilt-a-whirl.
Yeah. My gut. And my cousin, Blake.
Except, over the past couple of days, his gut had changed sides. Hours and hours of analysis and watching security feeds had him doubting whether she was really the person he was looking for. Oh, she was still hiding secrets, no question. But his prized instincts told him she wasn’t ripping off his casino. At least not by herself anyway.
Maybe his thought of her being part of a gambling ring when he'd seen her take the envelope from under the bench wasn't so far-fetched.
He soaped up and scrubbed shampoo into his hair. A ring would explain a lot, actually. Like why she never won very much and why she was still so reluctant to come clean. If she was part of a bigger organization, it was entirely possible she’d been forced into it, coerced against her will. And that would explain the envelope. Instructions for the next take, perhaps?
Who else would be in on it? The dealers? Faye? He hated to think Faye would have anything to do with it,
but her table did have a lot of losses and she was chummy with Alison.
Hell yeah, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.
And the more he resented Alison for not telling him the truth.
As he stepped under the spray again to rinse off, the years seemed to trickle away along with the soap and he was back in the Marines once more. Twenty-eight and green as fuck when it came to women. Oh sure, he’d had plenty of girlfriends and no complaints between the sheets, but nothing serious.
Not until Faith.
She’d been the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in real life and he’d fallen hard and fast for her potent charms. He’d bought into her praise and her seduction hook, line, and sinker. And after they’d made love more times than he could count and she’d satisfied both his body and his youthful ego, she’d plied him for information. Top-secret military information he’d been granted access to because of his rank. Information he’d managed to keep secret, despite her obvious temptation, by finally thinking with his brain instead of his cock.
Good thing too, considering it had later come out she’d been a North Korean spy and he wasn’t the first officer she’d plied with her abundant sexual talents. Good thing too, since his brief association with Faith had been damning enough as it was. He’d been investigated, disciplined by the military court, and gotten off lucky with an honorable discharge and no time in the brig for his troubles.
Clean and now most definitely sober, he shut off the water and fumbled for a towel.
Nope. It was beyond wonderful he hadn’t succumbed to Alison’s kiss tonight. That road only led to lies and deception and heartbreak. He’d learned that lesson the hard way and it was one he had no intention of learning again.
Owen dried off fast then stepped out of the shower with the wet towel slung low around his hips. He brushed his teeth and did a quick shave before shutting off the lights and padding over to the bed to slide naked between the cool sheets at last.
Lights off, he punched his pillow twice then settled in and closed his eyes, Peaches snuggling up on top of the comforter and stretched out lengthwise beside him before snoring loudly.
Calculating Desires (The Rockford Security Series Book 4) Page 5
