Some Like It Scot (33 page)

Catch THE DEVIL SHE KNOWS, the latest from Diane Whiteside, out now from Brava!

“T
his is no place for a lady,” he observed, ancient eyes studying Gareth without fear.

“She has a suite booked at the best European hotel—and I will continue to keep her safe.”

“Most excellent.” He bowed. “Peace be upon you.”

“And upon you be peace,” Gareth returned in equally excellent Arabic.

Portia could read nothing in Gareth's face after they'd left, unlike her wedding day, the last time they'd met. She sighed, wishing for so many things.

“Hmm?” Gareth asked noncommittally, just as he would have when she was twelve. Back then, he'd been surprised at her presence on his expeditions out of Uncle William's house. But he'd never refused to take her along and he'd always answered her questions, even if he didn't start any conversations. At least in the beginning, he hadn't.

“He looks so helpless, unlike the charming—”

“Charming?” Gareth's tone sharpened fractionally. He turned toward the large, comfortable barouche that Sidonie had just climbed aboard.

“Parrot? Or maybe a mynah bird?” Portia spread her hands a little helplessly, before following his lead. A seagull soared overhead, effortlessly free, unlike herself. “Abdul Hamid always reminded me of a tropical creature, with his vivid waistcoats and eternal, colorful chatter. Seeing him crumpled up like this makes him look like a broken bird.”

“I doubt there's any serious damage.” Warmth softened Gareth's eyes for the first time until they gleamed blue as the water behind him. He offered her his hand and she took the first step up into the carriage.

“Are you sure?” Standing on the metal step, she was almost at eye level with him.

“They didn't have enough time to tie him up and truly start working him over. The police here have a pattern they like to follow.” His expression hardened for a moment then he kissed the tips of her fingers. “But that didn't happen. Once he sees a good doctor, is bandaged up, and has a long rest, he should be fine.”

“Are you truly certain?” She searched his face. They had never, ever lied to each other.

“As much as I can be.”

“Very well then.” She tightened her fingers around his, feeling his strength flood into hers once again. “Thank you for rescuing us.”

“It was my pleasure, Portia.” He kissed her hand again, brushing his lips across her knuckles. It was still no contact at all, nothing like all the men who'd tried to seduce her into an affair while she was married, saying she needed to distract herself from St. Arles. She'd always refused them, telling herself and them it was because St. Arles would never tolerate a cuckoo in the nest. He'd have known in a minute if another man had sired his heir and heaven knows, the son of a bitch kept hauling himself back to her bed to breed one.

She hadn't realized until now it was because no other man made her bones shiver, even when her skin hadn't been touched.

Don't miss Cynthia Eden's I'LL BE SLAYING YOU, out next month from Brava!

“L
et me buy you a drink.”

She'd ignored the men beside her. Greeted the few come-ons she'd gotten with silence. But that voice—

Dee glanced to the left. Tall, Dark, and Sexy was back.

And he was smiling down at her. A big, wide grin that showed off a weird little dint in his right cheek. Not a dimple, too hard for that. She hadn't noticed that curve last night, now with the hunt and kill distracting her.

Shit, but he was hot.

Thanks to the spotlights over the bar, she could see him so much better tonight. No shadows to hide behind now.

Hard angles, strong jaw, sexy man.

She licked her lips. “Already got one.” Dee held up her glass.

“Babe, that's water.” He motioned to the bartender. “Let me get you something with bite.”

She'd spent the night looking for a bite. Hadn't found it yet. Her fingers snagged his. “I'm working.” Booze couldn't slow her down. Not with the one she hunted.

Black brows shot up. Then he leaned in close. So close that she caught the scent of his aftershave. “You gonna kill another woman tonight?” A whisper that blew against her.

Her lips tightened. “Vampire,” she said quietly.

He blinked. Those eyes of his were eerie. Like a smoky fog staring back at her.

“I hunted a vampire last night,” Dee told him, keeping her voice hushed because in a place like this, you never knew who was listening. “And, technically, she'd already been killed once before I got to her.”

His fingers locked around her upper arm. She'd yanked on a black T-shirt before heading out, and his fingertips skimmed her flesh. “Guess you're right,” he murmured and leaned in even closer.

His lips were about two inches—maybe just one—away from hers.

What would he taste like?

It'd been too long since she'd had a lover, and this guy fit all of her criteria. Big, strong, sexy, and aware of the score in the city.

“Wanna dance with me?” Such dark words. No accent at all underlined the whisper. Just a rich purr of sex.

Oh but she bet the guy was fantastic in the sack.

Find out.
A not-so-weak challenge in her mind. Why not? She wasn't seeing anyone. He seemed up for it and—

Dee brought her left hand up between them and pushed against his chest. “I don't dance.” Especially not to that too-fast, pounding music that made her head ache.

He didn't retreat. His eyes bored into hers. “Pity.” His fingers skated down her arm and caught her wrist. He took her glass away and placed it on the bar top with a clink.

She cocked her head and studied him. “Are you following me?” Two nights. First one, sure, that could have been coincidence. A coincidence she was grudgingly grateful for, but tonight—

The faintest curl hinted on his lips. “What if I am?”

His thighs brushed against her. Big, strong thighs. Thick with muscle.

Dee swallowed. So not the time.

But the man was tempting.

She couldn't afford a distraction. Not then. “Then you'd better be very, very careful.” Dee shoved against him. Hard.

He stumbled back a step and his smile widened. “You keep playing hard to get, and I'm gonna start thinking you're not interested in me, Sandra Dee.”

Who was this guy? Dee jumped off the bar stool. “You'd be thinking right, buddy.”

He took her wrist again with strong, roughened fingers. The guy towered over her. Always the way of it. When you couldn't even skim five foot six with big-ass heels, most men towered over you. And since Dee had never worn heels in her life…

The guy bent toward her when he said, “I see the way you look at me.”

What did that mean?

“Curious…but more. Like maybe you got a wild side lurking in you. A side that wants out.”

Maybe she did. The guy sure looked like he could play.
After the case.

“I don't know you, Chase,” she finally told him, too aware of his touch on her skin. Too aware that her nipples were tightening and she was leaning toward him as her nostrils flared and she tried to suck up more of his scent. “I don't know—”

“I saved your life.” A fallen angel's smile. “Doesn't that count for something?”