Game for Anything (2 page)

“L
UCAS, WILL YOU TAKE
this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Sophie blinked back a tear as her brother said yes. She'd never thought of Lucas as being romantic, but marriage had changed him.

“Mac, will you take Lucas to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Sophie blinked again as her best friend repeated her vow. As the maid of honor, Sophie stood in attendance behind the bride, elbow to elbow with the best man, Tracker McBride. It was bad enough that every pore in her body seemed to be aware of him—she was not going to cry in front of him!

“By the power invested in me…”

Sophie sniffed as a tear slid down her cheek. The game plan she'd come up with to grab Tracker's attention was not going well. It hadn't mattered one bit that she'd arrived with two men in attendance. The Shadow hadn't appeared until it was time to escort her from the patio outside Lucas's office to the trellis in the rose garden. And all it had taken was the brief, impersonal press of his hand on the small of her back to reawaken her fantasy of having his hands touch
every part of her. Just thinking about it had her skin feeling hot and icy at the same time.

Sophie blinked away a second tear. Damn it! Grace Kelly hadn't cried in front of Cary Grant. She'd been all smiles and champagne picnics and dogged determination. More importantly, she'd had a game plan that worked.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

When Lucas and Mac turned to embrace each other, Sophie felt the second tear slide down her cheek. They shared what she'd always wanted—that closeness with a person you loved and who loved you back.

Hoping that no one would notice, she raised a hand slowly, intending to wipe the tears away. Tracker's arm brushed against hers when he stepped closer and pressed a handkerchief into her hand, and she felt heat streak right down to her toes.

“You okay, Princess?”

Okay?
How could she be okay when her insides had become as liquid as the tears running down her face? And when the man who was responsible was treating her like a kid sister? Dabbing at her eyes, she managed a nod.

Wasn't that the story of her life? The men who wanted to seduce her were after her money, and the one man she
wanted
to seduce her was perfectly content to merely watch over her like a protective older brother.

Blinking rapidly, Sophie willed the tears to stop. She'd come here to change that. If plan A—making Tracker jealous—had been a bust, she'd just have to come up with another one. Quick.

As she watched her brother and her best friend turn to face the applause of their guests, she stepped to the side and, for a moment, let her eyes meet Tracker's. When a jolt moved through her right down to her toes, she waited a beat, then two, for her system to stabilize. Dressed all in black, he exuded an air of mystery and danger. And sex—raw, primitive and irresistible.

She was in trouble. It was one thing to plan a seduction in the abstract and quite another to put it into action when just looking at him turned her knees to jelly.

And it was just her luck that he was a triple threat kind of guy. First, he had a great body, strong and athletic. Second, he had a great mouth. It was better not to look at it too long. And then there were his eyes and the way he looked at her—as if he knew all her secrets and was just waiting for her to make a move so that he could counter it.

It made her want to do something, anything that he wouldn't expect.

That was the key. Drawing in a deep breath, she stiffened her spine. She had to think of something he wouldn't expect, something subtle, sneaky. The challenge sent a little ripple of anticipation through her.

“Hey, you two,” Lucas said.

With a start, Sophie tore her eyes away from Tracker's and glanced at her brother. He and Mac had already started to make their way down the “aisle” formed by the guests.

“Stay close,” Lucas continued, once he had their attention. “We're going right to the dance floor just as we did at the wedding.”

Yes, Sophie decided as she walked with Tracker toward the platform that had been set up for dancing. A dance was a good start. And maybe an innocent little game…

 

A
DANCE
. That's all it was. Just a polite, social gesture—one of the many rituals that Lucas was determined to repeat for his bride. That's what Tracker told himself as he steered Sophie onto the dancing platform. It had been a year since he'd held the Princess in his arms, a year since he'd decided that he had to keep his distance from her. However much he thought he'd prepared himself, he couldn't prevent his body from hardening in anticipation of holding her, the reaction so automatic it was as if he had already been intimate with her.

And he had been very intimate with her in the fantasies that had fueled his dreams every night for the past year. A few of them flickered at the edge of his mind as the music began. Then her hand was in his, pressed palm to palm, and she raised the other one to rest on his shoulder. They touched nowhere else, but he could imagine her strong, slender fingers brushing over his skin, and flames licked along his nerve endings at the thought.

Fantasies were all he would ever have with Sophie Wainwright, Tracker reminded himself. Hardly a day went by that he didn't review the reasons why he'd resolved to steer clear of her. First off, she was his boss's sister—a boss who happened to be his best friend and the closest thing to family he'd ever known. Having an affair with Sophie Wainwright was out of
the question. And anything else was impossible. They came from different worlds. Only in fairy tales did the princess and the knight who guarded her believe they might have anything more.

But she was close now, and each time the movements of the dance brought their bodies into contact, the hard knot of desire tightened inside of him. One thing was clear. He couldn't control his response to her any more than he'd been able to keep himself entirely away from her.

Lucas had asked him to keep an eye on her after the kidnapping. There were plenty of men Tracker could have assigned to watch over her. But he hadn't been able to give up watching over her himself.

That one simple fact worried him. Developing an iron-willed control over his emotions was one of the few things in his life he was proud of. His father had been a violent man, and Tracker knew that he'd inherited some of those tendencies. The work he'd done for the government had proved it. He couldn't allow anyone to get too close, especially not Sophie, who threatened his control as no woman ever had before.

Even now he couldn't seem to prevent himself from drawing her closer and torturing himself with the brush of her body against his. Each time she shifted, he felt the movement, along with an ache that began to grow deeper and sharper within him.

He wanted Sophie. To have her this close and not be able to take more was sheer torture.

“It's just not fair,” Sophie said.

Her statement so clearly echoed his own thoughts
that for a second Tracker wondered if she could read his mind.

“What isn't fair?” he asked, glancing down. In that first moment of looking into those amber-colored eyes of hers, his mind went completely blank. All he could see, all he could absorb, was Sophie. She had the finest damn face—fair skinned, oval. This close, he could see what he never saw in his fantasies: there were flaws in that pale, almost translucent, skin. A sprinkle of freckles across her nose, the faintest scar on her chin… A man might be fooled into thinking she was delicate if he didn't notice the stubbornness in the strong line of her jaw.

Then his gaze fastened on her mouth. Her lips were parted, moist…and moving. He gave his head a quick shake to clear it when he realized she was talking to him.

“…agree with me?”

A short, balding man spun by, jostling against them and nearly losing the tall woman in his arms. For the first time, Tracker became aware that other couples had joined them on the dance floor. The beat of the music had picked up, too. How long had he been holding Sophie and fantasizing?

“Well, don't you?” she asked.

She was smiling at him. Tracker narrowed his eyes. The Princess didn't do that very often, and it made him wary. “Agree with you about what?”

“That it's simply not fair. You know everything about me, and I know next to nothing about you.”

“You know everything you need to know about me.”

Sophie shook her head. “I don't even know your real name. Lucas says you're called Tracker because in the service there wasn't anything you couldn't track. I don't know where you came from, either. Why don't we play a little game?”

Tracker frowned. “What kind of a game?”

“Oh, stop being so suspicious. I'm suggesting a game of twenty questions, and we'll take turns. You ask me a question and then I ask you one.”

Tracker studied her as he steered her nearer the edge of the dance platform. He'd learned a lot about her when she'd donned a wig and led him on a merry chase cross-country last year, and she was definitely up to something. There was an unmistakable gleam of mischief in her eyes that he couldn't help but respond to. “What happens if I don't want to answer a particular question?”

“You can pass. But you have to pay a penalty, of course. Let's say…something simple to begin with…” Pausing, she tapped a finger on his chest. “I know. If you don't answer the question, the penalty is a kiss. What do you say? Are you game?”

No. He should say no. But his body was already on fire with the thought of lowering his mouth to hers, of taking just one taste. His hands had already gone to her waist. Her lips were only inches from his, and…

No. He should end this right now, simply set her aside and walk away. While he was trying to get his body to follow orders, she rose on her toes and her mouth was even closer. “I'll make it easy for you.”

The whisper of her breath on his skin was nearly his undoing.

“You can go first. Ask me anything,” she invited.

He couldn't imagine the snake in the Garden of Eden being any more persuasive. He could feel his blood draining from his head.

“I've got it. You've been following me all over Georgetown—every single time I've gone out with John Landry. I'll bet there's something you want to know about him—something that even you haven't been able to uncover. Wouldn't you like to know what my plans are so that you can tell Lucas? Aren't you wondering if I'm in love with him?”

“Are you in love with him?” The question slipped out before he could prevent it. It had been eating away at him like acid since she'd first started dating John Landry. Everything about the man had checked out. He came from wealth, the steady, deep-pocket kind that was handed down from one generation to another. His family tree was good, too; on his mother's side, he was related to an earl. Sophie had met him on one of her buying trips, and he was interested in antiques. In short, he was perfect for her. Tracker had told Lucas as much.

Sophie's lips curved into a smile. “I'm going to pass on that one.”

“Pass?”

“I choose not to answer the question. So you can collect your penalty.”

Now there was a mixture of amusement and recklessness in her eyes—and something else that had his body growing even harder. “You weren't going to answer any question I asked, were you?”

She grinned at him. “That's another question and
you haven't even collected the penalty for the first one. Unless…” The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable. “You're too much of a coward to collect?”

“You're playing with fire,” he murmured as he tightened his arms around her and pressed her closer until their bodies were in contact from thigh to chest. He could have sworn that he felt her soften against him, one tantalizing degree at a time. The pulse at her throat fluttered frantically as he watched those incredible amber eyes darken and cloud.

Her response to him stirred him almost unbearably, and it occurred to him that he was the one playing with fire. Her mouth was barely an inch away, her lips parted and moist. His breath was already mingling with hers. One taste, just one, and perhaps he could satisfy the terrible hunger….

Later, he wasn't sure who closed the distance between them, but suddenly her mouth was brushing against his. For one second, he was sure that the floor shifted beneath his feet, and then the flood of sensations washed every thought out of his mind. Each one was so clear. Her hands burned his skin as they moved from his neck to his hair. Her teeth nipped at his bottom lip and then her tongue tangled with his. He'd dreamed so often of what her taste would be like. But it was different—much sweeter than he'd imagined. And the underlying hint of tartness reminded him of lemonade on a hot summer day. He'd never been able to drink enough of it to quench his thirst. A quick surge of desperation had him changing the angle of the kiss and taking it deeper. There were richer, riper
flavors beneath her tongue, and he had to sample them all.

He had to touch her, too. In a quick possessive move, he ran his hands from her waist to the sides of her breasts. He'd waited forever to have his hands on her. She was so much softer than he'd fantasized. His mind clicked off and, instead of analyzing, became filled with the image of that slim, strong body beneath his, meeting him thrust for thrust.

 

D
ESPERATION
. Sophie felt it in the hard grip of his hands and tasted it in the hard thrust of his tongue. Pleasure streamed through her in a series of sharp little explosions. And she wanted—no, she craved—more.

As a dream lover, he'd been gentle, caring—and he'd never taken her this far. Desire burned as hot and reckless as a bonfire out of control. Her heart pounded as if it might shoot right out of her chest. And her mind—it seemed as if the sensations pouring through her were causing it to short-circuit.