Flirting With Disaster (6 page)

The tip of his nose connected with her jaw as he lowered his head and inhaled deeply. He rubbed his raspy cheek against the slice of bare skin at the juncture of shoulder and neck.

He shook his head, slow and deliberate. His face, his hair, his skin against hers.

Saying no.

It took a moment for it to sink in, but when it did, she stiffened, and he drew away.

She was such an idiot.

She pulled her hand back and wiped it on her jeans, hating the pins-and-needles feeling. As if he’d stunned her, burned her with his heat.

Hating that she’d put herself in a position where he could deny her all over again, when she’d practically begged.

Sitting on the bed with Sean Owens, touching his thigh, inviting him close as if they were friends. As if they were lovers, for Christ’s sake, when they were nothing of the sort.

The creases in his forehead and his narrowed eyes told her he was as confused as she was, and sorry, too. Genuinely sorry. But the set of his mouth promised that nothing could change it.

His feet hit the floor as he leaned past her to retrieve his jacket. He stood up and backed away from the bed, watching her.

Intense. Dangerously intense, the way he looked at her. The way her skin tingled under that look.

Not itched. Not prickled.

Tingled
.

Goddamn it
.

He shoved his feet into his shoes and crossed to the door, and all the while she got heavier on the bed. Leaden with failure and embarrassment, though she didn’t even know what she’d failed at, or why she should be embarrassed.

Had she done this to herself? Had he? Whose fault was it, even? Whose fault was this weighty desperation that wanted him to stay, even now, even though it would be just awful if he did?

“Dinner’s going to be here any minute,” she said.

But what she meant was,
You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t just walk out of the room rather than tell me
.

He would.

He did.

Sean had to admit, Judah Pratt was pretty good live. The singer’s voice had mellowed since his early hits—pop garbage that still got way too much radio air time—and he played his steel-bodied National guitar like someone who’d spent a lot of time honing his craft.

“Why hasn’t he recorded this?” Sean asked Ginny, who leaned against the bar next to him, sipping a Coke and whooping enthusiastically whenever Judah spoke or finished a song.

“He says it’s not ready yet.”

“Sounds ready.”

“I know. Amazing, huh?”

She didn’t require a reply, and he didn’t give her one. He scanned the room, noting the Palmerston security guards positioned at the exits and around the stage, skipping his eyes over Katie in the booth next to Judah’s manager, Paul.

Sean was trying not to look at her. She’d worn this black dress that was just … He was trying not to look at her.

A gruff bulldog of a man, Paul had put himself at Sean and Katie’s disposal as soon as they showed up at the High Hat. Judah had sent a message that he didn’t have time to meet them before the show after all, so could they talk afterward?

It would be late by then, eleven thirty at least, and no doubt Pratt would find another excuse to beg off. Bunch of celebrity bullshit.

Onstage, he finished his song, and the audience went crazy. Sean’s gaze got stuck on Katie, who was beaming as she leaned toward Paul to shout something over the applause.

He wanted that smile directed at him, and there was absolutely no way that was going to happen. He’d walked out on her like a coward, and now whenever she looked in his direction, she shot laser beams at him with her eyes.

The drive to the High Hat from the hotel had simmered with hostility.

Judah finished his song, announced a ten-minute break, and disappeared offstage. As half the crowd headed toward the bar, Sean moved in the opposite direction, navigating the press of bodies to make his way to Katie.

She was talking to Paul when he reached the booth, but she saw him and stood. Sean gestured toward the door by the stage, raising his eyebrows, and she inclined her head in agreement.

“You guys can’t get back to see him right now,” Paul said. “He’s busy. He’ll talk to you after the show.”

Sean looked at Katie and shook his head slightly. They were going to see Judah. It was time.

“Sorry,” Katie said to Paul. There was no hint of apology in her voice. “We’ll make it quick.”

She whirled around, her dress fanning out to give Sean a brief, mouth-watering glimpse of thigh, and led the way backstage.

He’d never known anyone quite so kinetic as Katie. She moved with such purpose. Her arms swung, and he watched the muscles shift along the bare length of back exposed by her dress, hypnotized.

Pratt broke the spell. As soon as he caught sight of Katie from down the length of the narrow hallway behind the stage, he was on his feet, striding toward them with a big, smarmy smile lighting up his face.

“Katie! Where have you been, baby? You look hot enough to melt glass.”

He folded her into a hug. Katie beamed. “Right back at you. And you sound amazing! The new songs are incredible.”

Judah let go of her to run one hand up the back of his neck, and even Sean noticed the way his sweat-damp T-shirt stuck to his muscular chest.
Jesus
.

“Thanks,” Judah said. “So what have you been up to? You hit town this afternoon, right?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Katie said. “We’ve been chilling out, mostly.”

Chilling out. For the love of—

“This is my partner, Sean Owens.”

She didn’t take her eyes off Pratt when she said it, but she did at least wave her hand toward where he stood, close behind her and to the right.

“Nice to meet you, man.” Judah extended his hand so Sean had no choice but to take it.

He had a firm shake, but Sean made sure his was firmer. He didn’t crush the guy’s
fingers or anything. That would be childish. He simply ensured Pratt knew which of them had the advantage of twenty additional pounds of muscle. And yeah, he stepped close enough to make sure Pratt registered the discrepancy in their heights, too.

Katie brought out the caveman in him.

When Sean released Judah’s hand, the singer placed his palm against the wall and leaned in toward her, a relaxed move that said he owned this crowded hallway, with its bustling techs and musicians, and he owned her, too.

Was it naive of Sean to think Katie might step away, making it clear her relationship with Pratt was a professional one, at least in public? To hope she would ask him some questions before she started flirting?

It was.

Katie asked Pratt something about one of the songs, leaning her shoulder against the wall and bending one knee so the skirt of her black dress flattened enticingly over the long, lean expanse of her thigh. In heels, she stood nearly as tall as Judah. With their black hair and olive skin, their matching dark eyes and wide smiles, the pair of them looked like they’d emerged from the same mold.

And Sean was fifteen years old again, sick with furtive jealousy, watching Katie and her boyfriend, Levi, make out under the eave by the high school entrance as he hurried to class.

For Christ’s sake
.

This wasn’t going to happen. Not like this. Katie could sleep with Pratt after lights-out if she wanted to, but they had a job to do, and he wasn’t going to stand here like a eunuch watching her flirt with the guy.

So stop them
.

Mrs. Guzman had warned him to be careful. If he tried to dodge the stutter too many times—to go around it rather than talk through it—it learned to anticipate his tricks. Substitute one word for another often enough, and soon he’d be blocking on the substitute, too. It was how he’d become effectively speechless by high school.

But these were desperate times.

Even visualization wasn’t as simple as it should have been. There was no pretending Judah was one of his board members, not when he and Katie were practically entwined. There would be no shutting out her presence the way he’d done yesterday.

What would it take for him to feel relaxed enough with Katie to speak to her? He could think of only one situation that fit the bill, and it involved his getting acquainted with what she had on under that dress. It had him moving his hands up her legs and learning the shape of her hips. Peeling down those spaghetti straps to kiss her breasts. Covering her wide, smiling mouth with his as he moved inside her body.

Him. Not Pratt.
Him
.

So he told himself he’d done it. Before they left the suite for the High Hat, he’d gotten his hands on Katie exactly the way he’d wanted to since the first day he saw her in the office. He’d kissed her. He’d touched her. He’d thrust into her, and she’d loved every second of it.

He could smell her now, that fresh, citrusy perfume warming up on her sweat-slick skin until it filled the hall and the deeper, earthier smell of her sex filled his senses. Sean had put his mouth on every inch of her. He’d buried his face between her legs and made her come. And he was going to do it again, just as soon as they got rid of this twit and went back to the room. He was going to spend the rest of the night making sure Katie never forgot his name.

“Tomorrow,” he said to Judah, interrupting their conversation. He didn’t get caught on the
t
sound. He wouldn’t stutter tonight. Sean Owens owned his own Internet security company and a custom-built four-thousand-square-foot house in San Jose. He had a gardener and a housekeeper. He knew how to make Katie moan with pleasure, and he didn’t fucking stutter.

“We’re going to talk tomorrow morning,” he said.

Judah raised an eyebrow. His posture had stiffened.

“Nine a.m.,” Sean specified. “All three of us. And I want you to block out at least two hours for the meeting. We have a lot to discuss.”

Katie glared at him, clearly unhappy he’d taken charge of the conversation. He’d cheer her up later. He’d push her up against that brick wall in their hotel room and make her a happy woman. Right now, they had work to do.

Judah smiled his stage smile and said, “Can’t, sorry. I’m heading out early tomorrow. I have some people to see on the way to Lexington.”

“When, then?” Sean asked.

Pratt shrugged. “What’s the rush?”

A muscle jumped in Sean’s jaw, but he tamped down his anger. Judah didn’t bear him any personal malice. He just considered him another cog in the great wheel of his life, a
dispensable minion who would jump to do his bidding.

Sean was no man’s minion.

“Katie and I are professionals,” he said. “We’re here to help you. If you want our help, you have to level with us. If you don’t, we’re leaving in the morning, and you can find somebody else to screw with.”

Judah’s smile faded, his expression shifting toward inscrutable.

Sean pushed a little harder. “Good luck with that, by the way. Finding somebody else. Because Katie and I are the best team around at what we do.”

Pratt’s gaze flicked from Katie’s face to Sean’s, then back to Katie’s, as if he hadn’t given the dynamic between the two of them any thought, but now he was giving it plenty.

Good
. Sean stepped closer to Katie and settled his hand over the warm, exposed skin at the middle of her back, his fingertips stealing inside the open drape of her dress to curve around her waist. She stiffened, but Pratt wasn’t looking at her when she did it. Sean had captured his attention.

They stared at each other.

She’s mine. You can’t have her
.

Judah smirked.
Watch me
.

“I think we’re getting off on the wrong foot here,” the singer said. “I just had a really full schedule today.” Pratt looked at Katie and smiled. This time, she didn’t smile back. She remained tense beneath Sean’s hand.

He stroked his fingers up her bare back, willing her to relax. She took a deep breath and softened as she exhaled. Going along with him, even if she didn’t like it.

The tiny part of his brain that remained painfully aware this was all a trick—that he was a stammering freak and Katie Clark was and always would be out of his league—marveled at that.

“So we meet tonight,” Sean said. “After the show.”

“No,” Judah said, with no trace of apology. “I don’t think so. I don’t want to go ten rounds with you in a hotel room when I need to be unwinding so I can get some sleep.”

Cocking his head to the side, the singer looked at Katie. “You, though. You relax me. Ginny said you’re staying at the same hotel as me, so why don’t you come by my room after the show, and I’ll … bring you up to speed? Then you can talk to your partner here, and we’ll meet tomorrow afternoon in Lexington to cover anything else we need to discuss.”

Sean’s fingers bunched the silky fabric of Katie’s dress into a fist at the base of her spine, and she turned toward him in response, raising her face to his in a silent challenge. She looked confused, irritated, and—

And aroused, damn it
.

Knowing that Pratt was turning her on with his skeevy invitation messed with Sean’s concentration. He couldn’t allow that. He had to focus. He and Pratt were playing a serious game here, their polite conversation barely disguising a battle over the job and a battle over Katie. Sean didn’t intend to lose either one.

He took advantage of the angle of her body to pull her closer.
Mine
, he told her silently.
Not his. Mine
.

Her pupils dilated in the shadow he cast over her, and suddenly he wasn’t pretending. He’d never looked right into her eyes before, never stood this close to her. Never put his hands on her the way he’d wanted to.

Her lips parted on a soft inhalation.

Sean didn’t even think about it. He just lowered his head and kissed her.

She tasted of lip balm, waxy and minty, her mouth warm and full. He kept his eyes open to admire the curved sweep of her lowered eyelashes. She would pull away soon. She would beat his chest, slap him, laugh at him.

But she hadn’t done it yet, and when he eased away to breathe, she exhaled and swayed toward him, tilting her chin up a fraction of an inch.