The Black Sheep and the English Rose (2 page)

It wasn't lost on him that she hadn't refuted his assessment that her motives for being involved in this little caper were purely selfish. “I credit you with thinking you can, and that makes you just as dangerous. And I still haven't forgotten Bogota, what was it, almost three years ago now?”

“About that. And I hadn't thought you would.” She pushed her bound feet downward, so she could dig her toes into the hard muscle of his thigh. She might as well have been pushing them between his legs for the reaction he had.

No, he hadn't forgotten Bogota. Not one sultry second of it.

“I simply thought you'd credit your uncustomary loss that morning to bad luck. Or bad, what was it, clams, I believe?”

There were, however, parts of that ill-fated assignment he'd rather never recall. “A pretty heartless solution considering that if we hadn't called for room service, in another hour or so you'd have likely had me so depleted I wouldn't have cared what you took.”

“Darling,” she purred, running her toes down along his thigh, then dragging them back up again. “Nothing about you is ever depleted. I should know. At least I left you clothed.”

“I seem to recall wishing you'd left me dead. At least for the following eighteen or so hours.”

She pursed her perfectly sculpted lips into a pout, which was so out of character for her, it actually made him smile. “I'd apologize, but that would be insincere of me.”

He resisted—barely—the urge to yank her underneath him, shred the flimsy scraps of silk covering her, and bury himself so deeply inside her they'd both forget, at least for the moment, why they were really there. He had carnal knowledge, too. And he knew she'd be wet enough, tight enough, everything enough to fit him perfectly. “And I'd certainly never want anything less than complete honesty from you.”

Something flashed across her eyes then, so swiftly he'd have missed it if he hadn't been paying close attention. And, where Felicity was involved, he always paid close attention.

“So noted,” was all she said. But she shifted her feet away from his touch then. “In the name of honesty, then, I'll admit I'm surprised to see you here.”

“Here in the city, or here in your bedroom?”

Her lips curved slightly at that. “Both, actually, but I meant the city. Or, perhaps I should say I was surprised to discover we're after the same quarry.”

“And why is that? I know our paths haven't crossed of late—”

“I thought I'd read somewhere that you'd abandoned your vaunted post in the city as well as your…other travails, to start something, shall we say, a bit more legitimate. Haven't you started some sort of charitable foundation with the inheritance from your father?”

Now it was his turn to bristle, though he tried like hell to keep from responding to her obvious tactics. “I've never been anything less than legitimate, as you call it. I was an assistant district attorney when we first met.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “In Bogota? Rather far afield for a city worker, isn't it?”

“Not in Bogota. We first met here. At a charity gala event, thrown by the mayor.” He smiled, surprised. “You don't remember that, do you?”

“When, exactly?” She immediately shook her head, and he couldn't help but notice the way it made all those auburn curls of hers tumble about her pale, delicately defined shoulders. “Impossible. I would have remembered.”

“It was quite crowded, and our introduction was made in a rather large group. The mayor can be somewhat pompous, and he was rather enjoying showing off, if I recall, to the lovely Brit.”

“Namely because the ‘lovely Brit' had a rather large checkbook attached to a very generous foundation that he was hoping I'd dip into for him. And I still can't believe our paths crossed before Bogota. I'd have remembered you.”

“I can't see why.”

She lowered her gaze, then lifted it once again, her eyes much darker now as her pupils expanded. “Let's just say there are occasions when I want to dip into things on a more personal level. I'd have remembered you.”

He hadn't thought he could be any harder. Where she was involved, there apparently were no limits. That shouldn't have surprised him. After all, she lived her life the same way. “As I recall, you were otherwise engaged at the time. Unless, that is, you like to double dip.”

It was her turn to bristle. “Think what you will, but no, that isn't something I'd ever entertain.” She looked around the room, presumably seeing the scatter of her clothing on the floor, then looked back at him. “If you're concerned that could be the case here, let me assure you, it's not. Appearances can be, and often are, deceiving.”

“Because you have no interest in…dipping?”

She drew her toes along his thigh again. “Because I haven't dipped in some time. And, where you are concerned, it seems I always have an interest.” She drew her legs up before he could lay his hands on her again.

It was taking great willpower to sit and chat, as if the explosive chemistry between them wasn't electrifying every atom and air particle in the room. “Interesting,” he said, “considering the state in which I've discovered you.”

“If you're intimating that I used my wiles to that great a length as a means to get what I'm after, then I'm afraid you don't know me at all.”

“So Bogota, Prague…”

“I'd have succeeded or failed in either case based on my own skills, thank you. I don't use sex as a ploy. But then, I don't have to.”

“So your involvement with me was incidental? Now I'm the one who finds that hard to believe.”

“I didn't say that. You were critical to my success in Bogota, and an unfortunately ill-timed distraction in Prague. But sex was never part of the plan.”

“So you'd have succeeded in Bogota with or without…dipping?”

“Most assuredly.” She smiled. “One can have bad clams without great sex.”

He shuddered slightly, but nodded. “True. And Prague?”

“Most assuredly not in Prague. Had I stuck to my usual plan, I'd have walked away the victor there. It's only because I let myself get distracted by you that I failed.”

Finn wasn't so certain of that, but he let the comment pass. “And here? You mentioned earlier you allowed yourself to get distracted…Seems you might have a little problem with that, then.”

Now she cocked her head. “Do you know who it is you're tracking?”

“I thought I did.” No way was he giving her a name.

“Then you know how high the stakes are. And that the playing field is a rather…challenging one.”

“If you say so.” Finn had never gone up against this particular adversary, but after even the least bit of research, he'd realized that for once, he might be getting in over his head. A little. But he'd taken the case anyway. At the time, he'd have said that he'd signed on because he was certain that he was as capable as anyone to retrieve the priceless gemstone, regardless of who else was after it. He certainly had the best platform to work from, in both financing and talent. And, frankly, if he didn't get it back for his client, no one would. No one else had the interests of a bastard child at heart. The rest of the players were motivated only by greed. Not by doing what was right.

But now that he was here, it was impossible to deny that the entire time he'd been compiling the information he used to make such decisions, he'd wondered, given the players he'd discovered could potentially be in play on this, if Felicity would be in the game as well.

In the end, it had been an opportunity he couldn't pass up. His partners had no idea how big a risk he was taking. For the first time, he'd been less than completely open with them regarding the details, assuring them he was on top of things as they both had their hands full with other matters. He only hoped they, not to mention his client, wouldn't be the ones ultimately paying the price. Whatever the case, it was too late now. He was committed. And he was here. He'd have to find some way to deal with Felicity Jane, along with whoever else popped up, and see that the job got done, with him walking away the victor.

“So,” she went on, drawing lazy patterns on his thigh with her toes. “If you know who you're up against, why aren't you off continuing the chase rather than sitting here, chatting with me? I've got nothing left to offer you, I'm afraid.”

Finn abruptly clamped down on her ankles, trapping her there, keeping her toes pressed hard against his thigh. Their gazes locked, and he was gratified to see the knowledge dawn in her eyes that perhaps she was playing with fire here. The problem was she didn't appear any more put off by the idea than he was.

He slowly drew her down the bed, until her arms were stretched over her head. The shackles locking her wrists to the wrought-iron headboard kept her in place as he smoothly rolled to straddle her thighs, releasing her legs only when the weight of his body replaced his hands in pinning her down.

She didn't fight him, or look remotely alarmed. If anything, she looked…excited.

He levered his body over hers, tracing his hands up along her arms, over the wrist shackles, until he could weave his fingers through hers. She arched up into him, causing him to swallow a groan of satisfaction as the rigid length of him came into contact with the softest part of her. He managed to find the strength to resist the urge—like a primal directive—to drill his hips into hers.

Instead, he brought his mouth within a whisper of her lips. “I would never say you have nothing to offer.”

Her lips parted, and she moved sinuously beneath him, torturing them both. “Who said I was offering anything? You have me at quite the disadvantage.”

He released one of her hands and slid his hand to his belt. Two quick flicks of a lethal-looking little penknife later, she was free. He tossed his knife on the nightstand and immediately trapped her hands to the bed, once again weaving his fingers through hers. She didn't take the forced intimacy passively, but curled her fingers to hold his hands just as tightly. Their gazes were once again locked. Fused, almost, it seemed. He wouldn't have been remotely surprised to see steam fill the room, just from the look they were sharing.

“And now?” he asked.

She used the sides of his shoes to loosen the tie binding her ankles, then slipped her feet from the silk noose. An instant later, she was digging her toes into the backs of his calves as she wound her legs around his, tightening the pressure of his hips against hers.

She moved beneath him, and, this time, he was helpless not to move in response. Less than forty-eight hours on the job and he was jeopardizing everything. She was right. He had no business here, certainly none with her. And he didn't give a flat damn. He'd waited two years for this. For her. Or maybe he'd waited his entire life.

“Now,” she said, gasping herself as he pushed against her, “now I want to know what you have to offer me.”

S
he'd lost her mind. It was the only explanation.

Two years had passed. Two years. Yet, nothing had changed. One grin—one flash of those white teeth—and the calculating professional who always put mission first, self second, vanished. And some inner sex kitten she didn't even know took over. What in the hell did she think she was doing?

She could lie to herself and say she was just doing what she had to in order to extricate herself from a less than promising situation.

And a lie it would be.

Two years. She'd almost managed to get the charming bastard out of her thoughts. She'd never get him out of her dreams. That, she could live with. She'd reconciled herself to that much. But now here he was, still larger than life, still cocky as hell, and pulling her right back into that same sexual fog she'd barely escaped from last time. If you could call being left naked and shackled an escape. Lord only knew where she'd have ended up if he hadn't chosen to leave her when he did. She couldn't even be all that angry at the manner in which he'd left her. She'd certainly deserved worse, considering the clams. Besides, he'd done her a favor. Another few hours spent wrapped around him and who knew what secrets she might have been tempted to spill? He already knew far too much about her, and she was still clueless as to why he'd let her get away with it. Twice.

She'd teased him about his business integrity, but she'd always known Finn Dalton was one of the good guys. Which, considering that he was also the epitome of a bad boy, was quite an intoxicating mix. And doubly dangerous. To her, and to her mission. That night in Prague, she'd been oh-so tempted to do what she'd never done before: confide in someone, bring him in on her secret.

Thank God he'd left her when he had. Naked or not.

That had been her mantra every day since. For a time, she'd thought she actually believed it.

She moved her hips beneath his, fighting the internal battle of want over need, losing it handily, and not particularly caring. He made it easy to play the siren. One look from him and she felt like some primal creature whose only directive was to melt him down to his most basic essence. It was a wonder they both hadn't gone up in flames the last time they'd tangled. Twice now they'd danced on the edge, twice now she'd been lucky to get out unscathed. The first time had been pure luck. But that last time…He could have ruined her, personally and professionally, had he chosen to. She had no idea why he hadn't. Which made what she was doing right now the epitome of foolishness.

If she entertained the thought, even for a second, that she could control him through sex, then she deserved whatever she got.

“Actually,” he said, teasing the corner of her mouth with a brush of his lips, “I want to take you up on your proposition.”

Her entire body shuddered at the mere thought that he wanted more of her. Her head knew it was business. But tell that to the rest of her. She was in dire need of an edge. More of an edge than the knowledge his raging erection gave her. She hooked her foot around his ankle and rolled him to his back.

Only his extreme agility kept them both from dropping off the edge of the bed. Not exactly the edge she'd had in mind. She tried to straddle him, but he wrapped his legs around her and kept her fully pinned to him, his fingers still entwined with hers. So much for controlling things.

“I seem to remember you have a penchant for being on top,” he said, his grin resurfacing.

Her pulse doubled. She was in so much trouble. She could extract the rarest of artifacts from the trickiest of locations leaving nary a trace. She couldn't be around Finn Dalton for more than five seconds without losing every ounce of intellect she possessed. “I don't seem to recall you minding all that much.”

He laughed. “No. No, I didn't.” He slid his arms up over his head, drawing their joined hands higher, pulling her face closer to his. “So, about this partnership you proposed. I was thinking we should…hammer out some of the details.”

“I'm pretty sure I know what you want from this…partnership.”

“Now, now. Like you, I don't conduct business in bed. That's strictly personal time.” He abruptly rolled, and she found herself flat on her back again, pinned down by his weight, now fully on top of her.

She wished it didn't feel so damn good.

“However,” he went on, “all work and no play can make for a very dull boy.”

“Dull. Hmm.” She pushed her hips up, making them both groan a little. “Apparently you've been taking a lot of time for play, then.”

“Unfortunately, no.” His grin was as unabashed as ever. “Though it's a problem I'd be more than happy for you to assist me with.”

“How could a girl resist such an offer?”

He moved a little, until they were both breathing a bit more heavily. “I'm sure we'll spend some time figuring out the answer to that.” He shifted his weight off of her slightly. “But for now, talk to me about this stone we're both after.”

Her eyes widened in surprise as some of the fog blessedly lifted. She hadn't thought he'd be so open about it. For all they'd both known, during each of their encounters, exactly why their paths had crossed they hadn't exactly talked about. Much less shared any intel on it. “First off,” she said, “what happened to the no-business-in-bed rule? And secondly, we haven't yet discussed what would be in this partnership for me.”

Now he moved his hips and gave her his most hopeful, innocent smile, which didn't come close to reaching his eyes. She couldn't help it, she laughed. “You're incredibly incorrigible. A trait I admire, by the way. But, quite obviously I could get that from you without the promise of business.”

He sighed, but his eyes still twinkled. She'd forgotten how incessantly blue they were. It was like staring into an endless sea, sparkling with sunlight.

“True,” he said. “But think of how much more fun it would be to work and play together.”

She disengaged her hands from his and tried to wriggle out from underneath him. She hadn't expected to feel such a strong tug. A tug that wasn't entirely physical. It was bad enough that he could make her body tremble in need with nothing more than a glance and a smile. Her heart absolutely could not—would not—come into play. And yet she was looking at him and feeling something that was undeniably affectionate.

Foolhardy, indeed.

She needed to get some distance from him, and quickly, if she was going to think even remotely clearly on the matter. For whatever reason, and she was certain he had them, he let her go and rolled to his back as she quickly slid off the bed and moved several feet away.

She'd thought she'd been having a bad day when she'd so badly bungled her one prime opportunity in this case earlier this evening. Now she was standing in her own room, wearing nothing more than a few flimsy pieces of lingerie, her body riled up in ways it hadn't been for two long years, her heart in a surprising little tangle of its own, and, furthermore, contemplating joining forces with the one man who'd proven himself to be her most formidable adversary. She hadn't known the meaning of bad day.

“Allow me to dress, then we'll talk.”

“Don't feel you have to on my account.” He propped his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles. “You know, I rather like you in blue.” He said it casually, matter-of-factly. “Something about the contrast with that pale skin and all that amazing hair.”

She shouldn't blush. Lord knew the things they'd already done together made blushing a bit after the fact. But for all that their main connection thus far had been purely animal in nature, he'd still occasionally say something so sincere, and so…uncalculated, she'd find herself reacting in ways that were dangerous, to say the least. Like wondering what it would be like to be with Finn in regular, day-to-day circumstances. Where every word, every move, didn't have to be examined and analyzed for potential danger to the mission at hand. It was a dangerous notion, indeed. Of course, even in her real life she lived nothing remotely close to what people would consider a normal routine, so it was all moot anyway. Still…

She turned her back to him and walked to her closet. “I appreciate the sentiment,” she informed him, still struggling to reclaim that distance even now that his hands weren't on her. “However, though you have good reason to assume otherwise, if it's business we're to discuss, then I'd prefer to be dressed for such.”

He shrugged. “Fine by me. All the better to imagine you like this underneath whatever tailored little suit you decide to put on. In some cases, more can still be less.”

She rolled her eyes. Truly incorrigible. But his smile was one of pure fun and mischief, and she wished like hell it didn't make her want to be just as mischievous in return. Like surprise him by running back and leaping on top of him, and simply having her way with him for the next few hours. The images that immediately played through her now feverish mind made her leap for her walk-in closet instead. She did manage to pull herself together enough to pause before stepping inside. The only chance she had here was to keep him believing she thought she had the upper hand at all times.

She looked back at him. “Perhaps I should shackle you to the bed, to ensure you'll still be here when I return. At the very least, to make certain neither of us gets a head start.”

“Oh, I'm not going anywhere.”

She stepped in the closet and closed the door behind her. “Yeah,” she whispered shakily. “That's what I'm most afraid of.”

She skimmed over the array of clothing hanging in front of her, which was about as complete a wardrobe as anyone could hope to have at home, much less while traveling. She was an heiress and, as such, was expected to travel in a certain fashion. Had it been up to her, she'd have been thrilled with throwing a comfortable pair of trousers and a few shirts in a satchel and taking off. But that wasn't how things worked. “And I'm so heartily sick of how things have to work.”

“Do you always mutter while you dress?”

She jumped. His voice was close. Just-on-the-other-side-of-the-door close. “I realize that my past manner of conduct around you might give a differing point of view, but, at the moment, I'd appreciate a bit of privacy, if you don't mind.”

“Not in the least. That's why I left the door closed.”

“Big of you.”

“You have no idea.”

She didn't know whether to laugh or rap her forehead repeatedly against the closet wall. If she thought it would instill the least bit of sense, she'd have been happy to do the latter, but, as usual, it was the former that he provoked. “Actually,” she retorted, knowing better even as she spoke, “I believe I have a better idea than most. Well, assuming you don't spend all of your time as you do when you're with me.”

“I should be so fortunate.”

“I believe I'll take that as a compliment.”

“It was intended as one. Are you decent yet?”

She laughed again. “You have no idea.”

His laugh was rich, and deep, and so incredibly sexy that she grabbed for the closest hanger to keep from yanking the door open and dragging him into the closet with her. She quickly pulled on a crisply tailored, button-front, sleeveless white sundress, the full skirt decorated with a lush green and rust floral pattern, knowing something stiffer and more formal would have probably been a far smarter choice, but he had this way of looking at her that made her feel naked anyway, so what did it matter? At least this way she'd be comfortable.

She slipped her feet into matching green, low-heeled sandals, then made an attempt at fixing her hair, but with the mirror on the outside of the door, it was a blind attempt at best. Finally she faced the door, but paused before going out. She took a moment to remind herself why she'd come all the way to New York. She had a dual role here, her first time risking trying to pull off her public job and her private one at the same time. It was vitally important she complete both tasks successfully, and she'd already made a massive error in judgment on one part. Two, actually, if she counted severely underestimating her other opponent, earlier today.

She opened the door, expecting him to be looming on the other side. Instead, she was surprised to find him on the opposite side of the room, looking out at the expansive view of Central Park provided by her penthouse lodging. Of course, it was his very unpredictability that drew her in. Most men of her acquaintance were fairly basic, their motives and intent easily analyzed and determined. Not Finn.

“Nice view,” he said as she walked up behind him.

She'd considered staying on the opposite side of the room, but for her own personal test, and to indicate to him that she wasn't the least bit affected by him now that she'd been released from her unsavory situation, she'd closed the distance between them.

“I thought it was rather lovely, yes,” she said, then immediately cursed her flawed strategy when he glanced over his shoulder and did a quick head-to-toe rundown that left her feeling slightly flushed and fully stripped.

“Ditto,” he said, leaving her to wonder whether he was referring to the view below or the one standing in front of him. She chose the former, but the continual involuntary flickering of the muscles between her thighs said she hoped otherwise.