Cosmic Sex (26 page)

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“Tobias isn’t the blackmailer.”

She noticed he didn’t say the blackmailer was a stranger. She tucked that away for later examination. She also noted the missing fingertip on his right hand. She wanted to know more about it and made a mental note to investigate. “You sound confident.”

“I am.”

“I’m not. I can’t guard you unless I have all the information available.”

He tipped his head to the side, studying her. She fought to stand still and appear as he wanted to see her, but she realized she’d just let him see a chink in her armor. Just let him glimpse something that wasn’t part of her supermodel image.

He walked closer to her and she stood her ground. She backed down for no one. Pride was one of her greatest strengths and her biggest weakness. It was why she suspected things hadn’t worked out with Perry. Ah, hell, she wasn’t going to get into that right now.

“Do you trust Alonzo?” she asked.

“As much as I trust anyone,” he said.

“You’re not Confucius so stop talking in riddles. This room is secure as long as you stay away from the window. I’ll check out this Mr. Jenner and then escort him in here.”

“You’re not in charge,” he said. “And I’ve got it all over Confucius.”

“So says you and until Sam pulls me off the job, I am in charge.”

He crossed the room like he owned it, which she guessed he sort of did. His stride long and his body language aggressive. He didn’t stop until barely an inch separated them. His aftershave was outdoorsy and spicy and she tried to pretend she didn’t like it, but lying went against the grain. Even white lies to herself.

She wished she could say that meeting him in person had made him seem less attractive. In person he exuded an animal magnetism that made her very aware of her femininity and angry that he didn’t want her on the job, because she wanted to be with him. Not necessarily to work.

He put both hands on the door on either side of her head and leaned in. “I don’t take orders.”

“You give them?” she asked, trying to keep her wits about her. He was a distraction that she didn’t need. The sheer physicality of him was so different than the urbane smoothness that Perry carried himself with. Daniel was raw, masculine, delicious, she thought. She put her hand on his sternum and pushed, but he didn’t budge. She could force the issue but she didn’t, wanting to see how this would play out.

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“C-c-can we just, um, establish here and now that I am no bodily threat to you?” she squeaked. “Cross my heart. All I did was trespass. It was stupid. I’m sorry. It will never happen again. The gun, the cuffs, this interrogation routine, it all strikes me as, um... overkill?”

A menacing grin flashed across his face. “Does it strike you that way?” he crooned. He was so close, the surface of his body touched the tips of her breasts. The swell of her belly. The points of contact seemed to burn. Her lips were so close to the hollow of his collarbone, the swatch of smooth black body hair that disappeared into his shirt. “Maybe you’re right,” he added softly. “Only time will tell.”

“H-h-how much time?” she stuttered. “You’re trying to intimidate me, buddy. I do not appreciate it. One bit.”

“Trying? I thought I was succeeding. I must be losing my touch.”

She gulped. “It’s not working,” she lied. “It’s falling very flat.”

He glanced down. Her puckered nipples brushed his chest, as softly as a kiss. The heat of his erection jutted against the curve of her belly. Scorching her. Sweat broke out on her face. Her heart thudded.

“Doesn’t look flat to me,” he murmured. “The landscape looks pretty rugged, from where I’m standing.”

“Step away from me, right now,” she whispered. “Give me space.”

A frown creased his brow. He stepped back, to her amazement. Cold displaced the buzzing force field emanating from his body. She felt exposed, vulnerable. She wrapped her arms around herself.

He grabbed them, and flung them wide. “Don’t,” he said. “You wanted to be more adventurous, right? So stand up straight. Stop cringing. No wonder your boyfriend ran around on you. Would Kaia “the bitch” slut cower and cringe?”

She gasped. Her back straightened, her chin lifted, her breasts tilted as she hiked her ribcage up. “Go to hell,” she hissed.

It was becoming ever more obvious that he was aroused. His loose raggedy cargo pants hid nothing. He was naked beneath them, and getting bigger by the second. He noticed the direction of her gaze, and jerked his chin, with a you-wanna-make-something-of-it look.

God, did she? Her thighs tingled. She wondered, out of the blue, how it would feel to, ah, accommodate a man of those proportions.

He was picturing that scenario, too. She saw it in his eyes. Fear and excitement jolted over her. Oh, boy. Oh, dear.

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“You did well to expedite your brother’s release.” Darley offered her his arm. “It will likely save his life.”

“I must see that it does,” she declared, tucking her gloved hand into the crook of his arm. “Whatever is necessary to see him well again, I will do,” she firmly added, as they walked away.

“I gathered as much.”

She glanced up at him. “I’m not ashamed.”

“Nor should you be. We all do what we must in this senseless war.”

She shot him a look. A distinct antipathy had entered his voice. “Is this war any different from any other?”

“It was unnecessary,” he muttered. “Religious fanatics and overweening egos brought this disaster upon us.”

“Whose side are you on?” An ambiguity had suddenly colored his tone.

“No one’s,” he replied, careful to rectify his fleeting candor. “I just dislike war in general and this war in particular.” Which was God’s own truth. He smiled, a teasing glimmer in his eyes. “Perhaps it’s no more than blatant selfishness on my part. I’m finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the misery and amuse myself in my usual profligate way.”

“Which is?” Gazi’s provocative gaze had awakened some inexplicable, heady wildness in her.

His dark brows flickered roguishly. “Nothing conventional, I assure you.”

“Is that so?” A honeyed coquetry, a lush smile.

Both irresistible. “Consider the danger in tantalizing me, Miss Clement,” Darley gently warned. “I am only chivalrous under duress.”

“Perhaps I’m not in the market for chivalry.” Her words were quite unexpected, but once spoken, she felt no compunction to retract them.

He turned to look at her, his gray-green gaze intense. “What are you in the market for?”

For any number of reasons, some purely selfish, others paradoxically both whimsical and survival-based, all deeply bereft of reason, Aurore said, simply, “Forgetfulness.”

“With me?” he was too tired to play games.

She held his gaze, direct and unblinking. “Yes.”

“In spite of your brother?”

“Because of my brother.”

“He will soon be on the mend,” Darley offered, benevolent and obliging, possibly lying as well.

“I am of the same mind,” Aurore replied, unlike him, resolute in her belief. “Thank you for saying so. Now tell me, Gazi,” she went on in an altogether different tone, one that threw caution to the winds without any further soul-searching, “what does Zania find so enticing about you?”

“Is this a game?” he bluntly asked. “Are you and Zania competitors?”

She shot him a sideways glance. “Does it matter?”

He didn’t know why he hesitated when it was a game for everyone involved. “No, of course not,” he finally said. “It doesn’t matter in the least.”

“I didn’t think so. But what other than survival does at the moment?”

“Indeed,” he murmured. “There’s no escaping reality.”

“Gazi, my sweet,” she drolly murmured, “pray do not blue-devil me with such reminders, when at the moment I require only amusement from you.”

“And that you shall have, darling,” he said as lightly, the endearment rolling easily off his tongue. Without breaking stride, he scooped her up in his arms and moving down the street kissed her lightly, then not so lightly—and ultimately, not lightly at all. He kissed her wildly, urgently, as if there was no tomorrow—a distinct possibility for them both with the present social disorder swirling about them.

Walking swiftly toward the beckoning hospitality of Miss Clement’s bed, Darley’s kisses took on a burning impatience. Unlike a man who hadn’t slept in days. Nor like a man who had only recently risen from Countess Tatischev’s bed.

As the lights of the hotel came into view, shocked back to her senses by the imminent prospect of being seen, Aurore heatedly whispered, “Stop, stop!” She pushed against Darley’s chest. “I can’t do this! Put me down!”

“No.” Nothing altered in his stride, not so much as a millisecond of hesitation marred his pace.

Drawing back even more, she regarded him with a hot-tempered gaze. “Put me down or I’ll scream!”

“Scream away.” His gait remained unchanged.

How dare he speak so calmly. “Damn it, I will!”

He actually looked at her then, his gaze in contrast to hers, unsullied by high emotion. “I don’t know you very well,” he said, gently, as though he was soothing a temperamental child, “but from what I’ve seen, your moods are—how do I put this—highly changeable,” he diplomatically finished. “Not that you don’t have reason of course.” His smile was indulgent. “Why don’t we talk about this upstairs?”

Copyright © 2008 by Karen Kelley