Deadly Desire (2 page)

Emma Berry and her big beautiful breasts had caught my attention the second I’d walked into that office. Her little shirt was so tight the buttons strained when she moved. She smelled of something sweet, like cinnamon, and it took all my concentration not to wrap my hand around her waist and give her perfectly-rounded ass a squeeze.

As she gazed up at me with her wide eyes and slightly parted cheery red lips, my cock twitched in my pants. We were alone here. She’d already admitted her boss was out to lunch. I wanted this girl, and I could take her right now. I could tell by the blush on her cheeks that she was as turned on by me as I was by her.

No one would have to know a damn thing.

I smiled. No, that would be way too easy. Things would get a hell of a lot more interesting if I took my time.

“I’ll need to point her out to you,” I said, smile widening. “Meet me at Roxy Club at nine p.m. Tonight. She’ll be there before she leaves with her lover.”

“Wait.” Her eyebrows crinkled as she frowned those pouty little lips of hers. “If you know where she’s going to be with this guy, why do you need to hire a private investigator?”

She really was new on the scene. Max Weathers wasn’t known for asking nosy questions.

“Because I don’t do my dirty work myself,” I said before winking. “Except in the bedroom, of course.”

Emma’s entire face flooded with color, and I couldn’t help myself. I shifted closer and brushed her baby blonde hair away from her shoulders. She tensed under my touch, but she didn’t move away.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I just want to make sure you understand what I want from you,” I said in a low voice.

She swallowed. “What
do
you want from me?”

She was playing right into my hands. Hearing her voice, I could detect a hint of an accent. Southern. She must be new to the city, and I bet she’d never met a man like me before. I usually didn’t like to get involved with someone who needed a detailed introduction to exactly what I wanted—women who knew the score were often easier to handle. But there was something about Emma’s lips and mouth and eyes…I had to have her.

Just once, to satisfy my need.

“I want you to be my private investigator.” I stepped back, and she made an unmistakable move after me. “Meet me at the club tonight. And make sure to wear a pretty dress.”

“Where the hell are you going?” My roommate, Cynthia, raised her eyebrows as I strode into our tiny living room. I’d managed to dig out an old pink bandeau dress from college, and it clung to every curve like duct tape. It didn’t particularly feel like the appropriate outfit for a stalk and snap job, but it was the only thing I had in my closet that might work for a night out in a Manhattan club.

“I have a job,” I said, grabbing my purse and camera from the rickety coffee table.

She coughed out a laugh and stood from the couch. “What, as an escort?”

“Of the private investigator variety. For some rich guy named Pierce Donovan.” I frowned, looking down at my dress. When Max had returned from lunch, I’d kind of neglected to tell him about Pierce Donovan’s weird request to hire me. I couldn’t help but worry that he’d be totally against the idea. And if he wouldn’t let me go, Pierce Donovan wouldn’t be happy, and I felt strangely compelled to do anything he said. Plus, I wanted to see him again.

“I thought you were just a receptionist,” Cynthia said.

“Well, not tonight.” I shrugged and moved toward the door. “Don’t wait up. I might be out late.”

***

When I arrived at Roxy Club, a part of me wanted to turn around and run right back home. The sleek black doors were manned by two impressive bouncers, their muscles straining against their thin cotton t-shirts. A long line spread down the block, full of thin girls wear classy black dresses. The guys who peppered the line looked a lot like Pierce. Smooth and sharp and rich, and every single one wore a suit.

I definitely did not wear the right thing. I stood out like a tacky sore thumb, and if I went in there now, Pierce Donovan would probably take one look at me and fire me on the spot. Private investigators weren’t exactly supposed to stand out in a crowd.

“Miss Berry.” One of the bouncers caught my eye and gave a twitch of his fingers, signalling me to move from my spot on the sidewalk. Glancing around, I made my way past the line. Surely this was Pierce’s doing, but I didn’t see him anywhere.

The bouncer pulled back the red rope and ushered me inside without even checking my I.D. I was twenty-one, but only just, and I wasn’t exactly used to going into clubs without getting carded, except for the ones near campus back home. “Mr. Donovan is waiting for you at his V.I.P. table in the back.”

Really, who was this guy? Pierce Donovan seemed like something straight out of a movie. A fancy rich guy who could go anywhere at anytime and get the best seat in the house.

“Thank you,” I said to the bouncer before easing into the club. Immediately, my senses were assaulted by strobe lights and hectic uptempo music. Every beat of the heavy bass pulsed against my skin, along with the warm, thick air radiating from the crowded dance floor.

In a dark corner at the edges of the wall, Pierce stood and motioned at me with a flick of his fingers. My breath caught in my throat, and I swore my heart skipped a beat. He wore a sleek black suit, somehow smoother and more pristine than the one he’d been wearing earlier in the office. His dark hair curled around his face, and his short facial hair cast a dark shadow on his chiseled jaw.

He was hands-down the hottest guy in this club, and he was looking right at me.

All he wants from you is for you to do a job
, the logical part of my brain said as I began to make my way toward him in my four-inch heels. But that didn’t explain why he’d looked at me the way he had at the office. His smile had been so suggestive, and his eyes had looked as if he’d seen an all-you-can-eat buffet.

I never would have thought a guy like that would want a girl like me, but he’d sure as hell wanted
something
. I guessed I was about to find out what, sitting in that tiny little booth with him.

When I reached his table, he leaned forward to give me a brush of his lips on my cheek. My face got hot, and I looked anywhere but at his eyes. At the curved bar, at the tiny black table, at the girls in perfect dresses walking by.

“Nice dress,” he murmured before moving away.

“Sorry,” I said, glancing down at my pink number. “I didn’t know it would be a place like this.”

His lips quirked. “Like what?”

I glanced around, at a loss for words. “Just…like this.”

“The target is on the dance floor.” He pointed down at the strobe-lit section of the club where a swarm of bodies writhed to the beat of the music.

My heart thumped. “The target?”

“Gloria Anderson,” he said. “The woman I’ve hired you to follow.”

“Right.” I shook my head, mentally smacking myself for being so slow. I didn’t know why I’d envisioned a romantic moment in the booth with him, sipping champagne and laughing at whatever it was that rich guys like him laughed at. Probably girls like me.

He held out a hand and smiled that sharp-edged smile. “Come dance with me.”

Swallowing hard, I took his hand, and his skin felt exactly as I’d imagined. Smooth and strong with a hint of roughness. Enough to suggest that he had an edge but that he’d gotten through life as easily as he could. He’d said earlier he didn’t do his dirty work himself, and I bet it hadn’t been a joke.

Pierce led me back he way I’d come and eased into the crowd with his hand tight around mine. People barely glanced our way as we edged closer and closer to the speakers. Pierce stopped, facing me, his arms snaking around my waist and pulling me in close so fast my breath flew from throat in a gasp. My body melted against his, and I could feel his muscles twitch as he shifted slowly, moving just enough that every single inch of me was aware of every part of him.

His breath was hot on my neck as he dipped his head to nuzzle his lips against my ear. Sparks exploded across my skin, and I stiffened in his tight grip. What the hell was he doing? Maybe I’d been right after all. Maybe he really was interested in me. He’d said to meet him here so I could follow some woman, but this felt a lot different than any investigator case I’d ever imagined.

“Relax,” he murmured into my ear, the light touch of his lips tickling my skin. “Pretend to dance with me. She’s just right over my left shoulder. Black lacy dress. Sexy high heels. Brunette waves all the way down to her waist.”

Right. Of course. I gave myself a mental head slap for thinking this was anything but work, though I couldn’t stop myself from appreciating the heady scent of his manly cologne. And the way his muscles shifted under my touch. Dragging my attention away from Pierce, I scanned the dancers nearest to us. He’d been right. A woman in a lacy black dress with luminous waves swayed to the beat of the music, her arms wrapped around a thick muscular man in a suit who could have passed for a bouncer.

After several moments, the woman whispered into the man’s ear. He gave her a lazy smile and began to lead her out of the crowd toward the club’s front door.

“She’s leaving now,” I said into Pierce’s ear.

Pierce immediately pulled away, taking his intoxicating scent and strong warmth along with him. “That’s your cue, Emma. Bring the photos to my office tomorrow morning.”

“Right.” I nodded and began to step away before casting once last glance at Pierce’s silhouette on the dance floor. My entire body itched to stay there wrapped in his arms, but I had to remind myself one more time that nothing about this night had to do with whatever I felt between us.

He’d hired me. And that was that.

After I’d followed the unsuspecting couple down the Manhattan streets, snapping photos of their intimate moments, I headed back to my apartment. Cynthia was still waiting up, her laptop perched on her knees where she sat curled up on the dingy couch. She raised her eyebrows when I kicked the door shut and hung my purse on the coat rack.

“You’re back earlier than I expected,” she said, a knowing smile on her lips. “Did Mr. Donovan show you the ropes—pun intended—that quickly?”

Frowning, I sighed and eased onto the couch. “What are you on about? I told you he hired me to do some private investigator work.”

“You have no idea who he is, do you?” She laughed and spun the laptop around to face me. An article on the New York Times spanned the screen, accompanied by a snapshot of Pierce’s handsome face.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been internet stalking him this whole time I’ve been gone.”

“Maybe a little.” She tapped the screen. “And so should you.”

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head and pushed the laptop away. “It’s not my business to know gossip about clients.”

“But you should know who they are. Did he happen to mention he’s the owner of Telecon and has a penchant for bondage?”

My eyes popped open wide. Sure, I’d known he was a wealthy client, but if Cynthia was right, he was much more than that. Wealthy, influential, famous. And there I’d been dancing with him in a club, none the wiser. He probably thought I was an idiot for not knowing who he was.

“I know.” Cynthia gave me a wicked smile. “Now you see why I’m surprised you’re home so early. I was certain he’d decided you were next on his list of one-nighter girls.”

“One-nighter girls?” I asked, mind turning to the second fact Cynthia had dropped in. Pierce was into bondage. Shivers ran along my skin at the thought of being strapped to a bed with his hands running all over my body.

“He only ever has one night stands,” Cynthia said. “He’s even come out and said it in interviews.”

Something about those words made disappointment flood through me, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t as if tonight had been a date or that I’d even been on his radar at all. I
knew
deep down he’d only hired me to snap photos of that couple, but I had to admit to myself, there’d been a part of me hoping for more. He’d looked at me like no one ever had before, and as clueless as I was about men, I was certain there’d been a glint of desire in his eyes. But as attracted as I was to him, a one night stand wasn’t something I could ever do. I wanted more than that from someone.