Untouched (6 page)

“Single? Married?” she asked all too innocently.

Anger and jealousy came over him with shocking intensity. Dante spun around to face her and struggled to keep his eyes from shifting. The satisfied smile that played at her lips cooled his anger, but fueled his desire. She said that just to see if she’d get a reaction out of him. Someone was getting brave. The little minx was playing with him like a cat would play with a mouse. Well, he was no mouse.

“I don’t think that’s anything you need to worry about, Ms. Smithson.” He kept his voice low and his body dangerously close to hers. Surprisingly, she didn’t retreat. “Our employees do not fraternize with clients.”

“Really?” Her voice, soft and tantalizing, threatened his control. His body hardened as her gaze boldly wandered down the length of him and back up again. Her eyes locked with his. She leaned in and whispered softly, “Now that’s a damn shame.” Smiling, she turned on her heels and headed toward the exit. Rendered speechless by her unexpected flirtation, Dante followed her out, carrying both the bags and a raging hard-on.

The ride to their hotel consisted of friendly chatter between Peter and Kerry about life in New York City. The subways, the crime, the best places to get great food were all touched on. Dante stayed quiet, afraid his jealousy at their easy banter would be revealed. Why couldn’t he talk to her without it turning into some kind of sparring match? He
was
jealous of Pete. Not because he thought Kerry really wanted him, but because she was at ease with him so quickly.

For the first time since he found her, the energy she gave off seemed less encumbered and lighter. He wanted more than anything to be the source of her happiness. He couldn’t blame her. Everyone felt comfortable around Pete. He was the guy that could talk to anyone, and he envied him for that. Dante didn’t envy humans often, and he did not want to become familiar with it. In fact, he’d had about enough.

“Peter, while we’re checking in and getting Ms. Smithson settled, I want you to do a dry run to the shoot location. Make sure you have more than one route in and out.”

“You got it, boss. Anything else?” Peter kept his eyes on the traffic ahead.

Dante shook his head. “No. The rest is on me.”

“Oh great.” Kerry voiced her displeasure from the backseat. “I still don’t know why Sam and Malcolm hired you. I do not need a bodyguard. Sure, I get threats, but so does anyone with even the littlest bit of notoriety. I think this whole thing is ridiculous,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Dante threw a glance over his shoulder. “What threats?” Dread crept up his belly.

“Oh, just the usual kooks sending weirdo love notes.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Arthur, my rep from the agency, sends anything really weird to the cops. I’ve asked him to not even tell me about them anymore.”

“I’ll have to get good old Artie to bring me up to speed, won’t I?”

“Oh please.” Kerry laughed out loud. “Arthur is not happy about you. Not at all. And he’ll really be pissed if you call him that. It’s Arthur,” she said, dragging out his name dramatically.

“Why would he have a problem with you having extra security and filling me in?” He kept his voice even, but felt his irritation rising by the second. As if another man, a human, could keep information from him about his own mate.

“Number one, the agency didn’t pick you. Sam and Malcolm did. The agency is not a big fan of strangers coming in and telling them how to handle their clients. Arthur definitely isn’t.” She shrugged. “What can I say? He’s a control freak. But a damn good rep,” she added quickly.

Dante turned all the way around in his seat and locked his large amber eyes onto her startled ones. It took every ounce of resolve he had to resist shifting into his clan form. “You may be his client, princess.” He kept his voice low and steady. “But you’re my responsibility. I don’t care what this guy likes or doesn’t like. Your safety is my single most important consideration. He will give me all of the information I need. Period.” Dante turned around in his seat and shoved his mirrored aviators on as his eyes shifted.

“Jeez. Is he this bossy with everyone, Pete, or is it just me?” she asked with a short laugh.

“He’s the boss,” Pete replied with a friendly wink in the rearview mirror.

Dante expected her to say that he wasn’t her boss, but she simply laughed softly. The light musical sound of her laughter instantly loosened the knots in his stomach. Then it dawned on him. Without realizing it, she sent him reassuring waves of energy. A hint of a smile played at his lips, and his eyes shifted back to their human state. Their connection grew stronger with each passing hour; with every smile and glance she came closer to being his. Could it be possible that he was the reason she felt better? He almost dared not entertain the thought.

The sleek black Lexus turned onto Royal Street and pulled up in front of the Hotel Monteleone. The Monteleone was one of the oldest hotels in the French Quarter with a rich history and even richer clientele. Dante hopped out of the car before it had even come to a full stop. The hot damp Louisiana air clung to him the moment he stepped onto the curb, and he once again cursed the dark suit that stuck to his skin like glue. He scanned the street around them. Satisfied the area was secure, Dante pulled the door open and was greeted by the sweet scent of her. Heat flared low in his belly from one whiff, all lilacs and spice. His heated gaze caught hers as he offered his hand to help her from the car.

Dante knew the odds were slim that she would risk touching him, but he had to give her the choice. She sat motionless for several seconds, her face set in a mask of concentration as though she were weighing her options. She sucked in her breath and fear flickered briefly across her face. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she accepted his offering and placed her delicate hand in his much larger one.

With great care and tenderness, Dante closed his fingers around hers and quickly helped her from the car. When they connected flesh to flesh her eyes widened, and for the briefest moment he saw a spark of recognition there. Kerry stepped onto the curb, instantly withdrew her hand, and held it to her chest. She licked her lips nervously and tore her gaze from his.

“Thank you, Mr. Coltari.” Her voice wavered, and she slipped her large sunglasses on.

“You are welcome, Ms. Smithson.” He gave a curt nod and followed her into the hotel, grateful for the strides they were making and hopeful for all that was to come.

***

Once they stepped inside the hotel, Kerry breathed an audible sigh of relief. She stood in the large foyer, allowing the cool air to refresh both her body and mind. The damp Louisiana air outside still stuck to her body, and Dante’s touch stuck to her soul. When he’d offered his hand to her she almost refused, but there was something in his eyes that put her at ease—a sense of longing that was all too familiar. She had wanted to find out if their previous encounter had been a fluke, and he had given her that very opportunity.

When her fingers touched his, the same delicious sensation spread over her skin. Her flesh immediately bathed in sweet honey. There was no pain. There was just exquisite sweetness. Thick and warm, it washed over her. The vision that accompanied it felt happily familiar as it flashed into her mind. Kerry wasn’t afraid to see it. On the contrary, she had been hoping to see it.

It was the fox. The same fox from her dream this afternoon.

Her nap on the plane had been the first time since the attack that she’d had a dream, opposed to a nightmare. The undisturbed sleep had rejuvenated her for the days ahead, but her curiosity about Dante was quickly becoming something of an obsession. Who could blame her? Anyone would be primed and ready after thirty years of pent-up sexual frustration.

Kerry waited for the desk clerk to complete her check-in and stole a look at Dante. He possessed a magnificent, albeit somewhat frightening, presence. He stood in front of a massive ivory column, turning his head almost imperceptibly, presumably tracking everyone in the room. His dark suit and entire demeanor were in stark contrast to the creamy white pillars and scrolled designs of the extravagant lobby. He held himself ramrod straight with his hands folded in front of him and had on those ridiculous mirrored sunglasses.

Kerry stifled a giggle.

He looked like a cross between The Terminator and a secret service agent—a really
hot
secret service agent. The man looked as though he had not an ounce of body fat under that suit. She suspected there was nothing under there but muscle and sinewy strength. A far cry from her own soft body, she mused. Model or not, she had insecurities like any other woman. Early in her career she’d tried to maintain that skinny, hanger-like body for modeling, but that just wasn’t in the cards. Once she embraced her fuller figure and her curves, things just started to pop.

She smiled. She’d like to pop Dante.

Heat crept up her cheeks at the memory of how blatantly she flirted with him at the airport. She had practically propositioned him, and by no means did she flirt like that with men.
Ever.
What was the point since it could never go anywhere?

Dante, however, was a different story entirely.

She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. Everything about him enticed her. He conducted himself in an almost regal manner. His confidence bordered on arrogance, but she sensed tenderness there as well, although she imagined that most people never saw it. She watched the muscles in his jaw clench, and even that flickering movement conjured up vivid images of what the rest of him must look like under that suit.

Her mind rapidly filled with all kinds of things she’d like to do with him. All those things she’d seen in movies and heard about from girlfriends, things she never ever thought she’d be able to do.

Until now. Meeting Dante had changed all the rules.

Her pornographic daydream was interrupted by the sound of the desk clerk clearing his throat. Startled, she jumped, horrified that everyone in that lobby knew exactly what she’d been thinking. She brushed at her chin, afraid that there might actually be drool on it. Her head snapped back, and she found herself looking at the clerk, who couldn’t have been more than twenty-one. His big, brown puppy dog eyes looked at her expectantly.

“Ms. Smithson?” The young man looked around as though he was telling her state secrets and kept his voice just barely above a whisper. “We have you all checked into the Tennessee Williams suite. The bottled water and fresh flowers are already up there, as requested.”

Kerry rolled her eyes and slid her sunglasses onto her head, pushing those few pesky strands of hair off her face. She smiled broadly and leaned into the starstruck boy. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Brent, ma’am.” He swallowed, and she couldn’t help but notice that little beads of sweat had begun to form at his brow. “I’m new here,” he added quickly. “My girlfriend, Penelope, is one of your biggest fans. Me too, of course.”

Kerry couldn’t help but take pity on the poor kid. After all, her reputation as being a coldhearted bitch was the only thing people had heard or read about her. His eyes grew even rounder, and he looked as though he would piss his pants right there at the desk.

“Okay, Brent.” She kept her voice as light as possible. “I don’t need special water or fresh flowers brought to my room every day. That’s my agency’s style, not mine. I just want to have my privacy and enjoy The Big Easy for the few days that I’m here. Sound good?”

Brent nodded, and a big smile spread across his sweet round face. Kerry winked, gathered her things, and made her way over to Dante. A bellman approached to help with the bags, but Dante quickly dismissed him and led the way to the elevators.

They rode up to the fourteenth floor in silence, and Kerry found herself feeling awkward and unsure. She felt like a high school girl on a date for the first time. She cringed at her own foolishness. Jeez, what a dork.

The ding of the elevator signified arrival to their floor and broke the silence.

“So why is it called the Tennessee Williams suite?” he asked while they made their way down the corridor.

“All of the suites are named after authors.” Kerry fished the card key out of the paper folder and slid it into the door.

He grunted what must have been his version of saying he understood as he pushed past her into the massive suite. The large living room was well appointed with a sofa and armchairs in varying hues of cream and beige. A dining table loomed largely on the left side of the room with an enormous crystal chandelier dangling overhead. The towering windows were elegantly adorned in floral drapes fringed with tassels.

Kerry closed the door behind them and made her way into the similarly decorated and cavernous bedroom. The king-size bed looked exceptionally welcoming. She shook her head as Dante proceeded to look around every corner and in every closet. He even checked the bathroom, but for what she wasn’t sure. Although it was certainly big enough for someone to hide in, he found nothing, and made his way back to the living room.

“While I’m getting settled here,” she called from the bathroom, “why don’t you go on downstairs and get yourself checked in. I’m sure you’ve managed to get the suite next door,” she mumbled under her breath.

“No. I’ll be staying here,” he said absentmindedly, looking out the window at the bustling street below.