Sinful Attraction (4 page)

“I’m not some man and you’re sure as hell not just some woman,” he said, holding the door open with his hand. The hoarse urgency in his voice was beneath him, but Claudia was worth the dings to his pride. There was no question in his mind that she was worth it. “I’m in 762.”

Claudia shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

Buzzing with frustration, Marcus cursed softly and dropped his hand. The doors slid closed in his face, blocking out the sight of her as she hurried to her room.

Chapter 6

M
arcus stalked back to his lonely room, yanked his clothes off and, not knowing what else to do, stepped into his second shower of the evening, with the water turned to polar ice cap. After three or four minutes of this torture, his privates had shrunk back to a size that was manageable, if not completely indifferent to Claudia’s charms. He brushed his teeth, threw on some boxers, glared at the digital clock, which was blinking 10:30 at him in what promised to be a long and miserable night, and pulled out his laptop.

Since he wasn’t going to sleep, he might as well work. And that meant reviewing his notes and file on Judah Cross’s coveted and extremely valuable collection of memorabilia from his thirty-year career.

Judah Cross. Yes, he needed to focus on Judah Cross, whom he’d be seeing tomorrow.

Judah Cross, the reason for his eventful trip out West to Jackson Hole.

Where he’d met Claudia.

Claudia.

He collapsed into the desk chair, flipped his laptop open and waited for it to power up.

So she wanted to come, but she wasn’t coming tonight. Big deal. Not the end of the world. He’d get over it and there would, hopefully, be other nights. Soon.

Absolutely no big deal.

Except that his skin was too tight and his pulse was too fast. His left leg wouldn’t stop jiggling.

And his laptop was too freaking slow.

Pushing away from the desk, he turned out the corner lamp. It was too bright with the nightstand lamp already on. Then he found the remote and clicked on the TV, because it was too quiet. Then he turned down the volume, because the commercial was too loud.

He wasn’t going to get any work done tonight. Any fool could see that.

He’d just watch some TV.

Flopping down onto the king-size bed, he flipped channels. CNN. ESPN. Discovery, CSPAN, the networks. Oh, and Adults After Dark.

That looked cheesy but promising.

He ran a hand over his erection, which was sprinting past semi and heading for concrete. Porn had never really been his thing, not since college, anyway, but he needed some relief because his balls were blue and his brain was in serious danger of blowing out of his skull.
Thanks, Claudia,
he thought. So, yeah, that was what he’d do: he’d watch
Harlem Harem,
jack himself off and relieve enough tension to be able to lie quietly in bed, if not actually sleep.

Great. He had a plan.

A humiliating plan, true, but a plan at least.

Hang on—had he bolted the door when he came in?

Probably not. It wasn’t as though he’d been clearheaded at the time.

Muttering to himself, he got off the bed, padded to the door and reached for the brass lock.

Something made him hesitate, hand raised.

He cocked his head and heard nothing.

But he held his breath and opened the door anyway.

Claudia was standing there. Realizing that she’d come, after all, was the biggest surprise of his life and yet, simultaneously, no surprise at all.

Inevitable, as he’d said.

Her gaze was alight with something so soft and warm that it made him ache in a way that had nothing to do with the physical. A remote corner of his brain tried to warn him that he might be biting off more than he could chew with this one, but that seemed like an insignificant consideration compared to the way he felt—the deliriously alive way he felt—when he was talking to her, or looking at her, or standing quietly with her, just like this.

“I’m trusting you,” she warned.

“Good. I won’t abuse it.”

“See that you don’t.”

He didn’t want to fall on her and devour her like a kid going for candy, but his self-control was at such a low ebb that that was pretty much what happened. Pausing only to take her hand and pull her into his room, he kicked the door closed and helped himself to everything about her.

His hands went first to her head, tilting it way back so he could have full access to her minty-slick mouth. She gave her mouth with a delicious mewl, opening for him with an absolute surrender that drove him wild. He tasted her in thrusting sweeps and nibbling bites, frantic in his determination not to leave one inch of her lush lips unexplored. They laughed, playing with each other as they fit their lips together in every combination he could manage, and her throaty delight spurred him on.

He kissed her deeper, making sounds that were as unabashed as they were animalistic. He backed her into the nearest wall, swept her cottony top over her head and filled his hands with her warm skin. Underneath, she wore a sheer black bra that revealed the perfect heavy ovals of breasts tipped with engorged dark nipples that demanded some serious attention. Off went the bra. Palming her breasts, he stooped just enough to lick the first tight bead and then move to the other, sucking it deep into his mouth.

She responded with a sharp, breathless cry that thrilled him so much he’d probably be hearing it in his dreams for the rest of his life. Then she arched her back and he squeezed her breasts together, pressing his face into that soft valley and breathing her in. Another husky laugh distracted him, making him look up, and from that angle he could appreciate the way her gold chain sparkled against the smooth column of her neck. What else could he do but lick his way up that thrilling flesh, back to her mouth?

Everything he did seemed to trigger another round of enthusiastic coos and hitches in her breath, and these responses made him want to do everything to and with her, and do it now. She was as aggressive as he was, wrapping him in her tight grip and raking her nails across his bare shoulders, up his nape and into his scalp. And then her hands ran back down again, gripping his ass and anchoring him against her thrusting hips. Rubbing against her yielding core, naturally, made him harder. Concrete hard. Unbearably hard.

And then, just to make sure she totally unmanned him, she hooked one thigh around his waist, drawing him even closer.

“Not fair,” he muttered in between kisses.

“I can stop,” she answered, circling her hips.

“We’re not stopping. You made that decision when you showed up at my door.”

“True.”

Clamping both hands on her tight butt, he hefted her off her feet, and up into his arms. She wrapped both legs around his waist—man, he
loved
her long legs!—and he swung her around. In his excitement, he careened more than walked, eventually running into the bed.

They tumbled down together, laughing again, and he went to work on her stretchy pants, pulling them down her legs and off because he wanted her spread beneath him. She wriggled for him, lifting her hips when he needed her to, and then, there she was, her head on a pillow and her long, toned and curvy body stretched before him with only her bikini panties and his boxers between them.

He paused, kneeling between her bent legs, and took a long and breathless moment to appreciate the view. She stared back up at him, panting. Neither of them were smiling now.

“This is crazy, Marcus.”

“I know. It’s also right.”

She hesitated, just for a second. “I know.”

Taking his time about it, he stretched out over her, levering onto his elbows so he didn’t crush her with his weight. The full-body contact was so exquisite that he shuddered. She stared up at him with her beautiful eyes, running her gentle fingers up and down his arms.

“Goose bumps,” she told him, dimpling.

“You don’t say.” He couldn’t look into her face for too long, not when they were this close and his feelings were this exposed, so he nuzzled her neck and circled his hips. She let out a serrated sigh. “I’m going to need you tomorrow night, too, Claudia. And the night after that. Just so you know.”

“Aah, Marcus,” she whispered, eyes rolling closed, and he could tell he was losing her in the heat of the moment. “I’ll have to check my calendar, love, and see if I can squeeze you in.”

He raised his head, because now was so not the time for jokes. “Claudia.”

She opened her bright eyes and focused on him. On his dead seriousness. When she stilled, he knew she was starting to get the picture.

“Is that okay with you?” he asked.

There was a pause during which he gave himself several swift mental kicks for trying to bring her too far, too fast, because he was stupid,
stupid,
STUPID. But then she surprised him.

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s okay.”

Wait,
what?

He cocked his head, wanting to make sure he’d heard right.

“Yeah?” His face was already splitting into a ridiculous grin. “You’re serious?”

She grinned, too. “You’re not going to require a blood oath, are you?”

Laughing, he scraped his teeth down her neck, making her buck and writhe, which he really liked. Grabbing her hands, he anchored them over her head to hold her still. “I might. How long are you going to be in Jackson Hole? You never said why you were heading out there.”

“Marcus!” she squealed with laughter, trying to get away from him. “Stop! I’m trying to land a tremendous new client—will you stop!—who’s got a collection of first editions and sheet music that could really give my career the boost it needs now that I’ve joined a bigger auction house. Well, out of the blue, he contacted my new employer and requested me specifically, because he’d heard about my experience with rare books. You’ve heard of him, I’m sure—Judah Cross?”

Chapter 7

S
tupid,
stupid,
STUPID, Claudia thought late the next morning as she settled into the back of the sleek black SUV that Judah Cross’s people had dispatched to fetch her from the airport. She was so freaking stupid. Thirty-two years old, and she’d learned absolutely nothing from her time on the planet. She could not be taught, and no amount of hard-earned experience would overcome her criminal idiocy.

She was, truly, too lack-witted to live, and if a meteor one day threatened mankind with extinction, and only a few essential souls could seek shelter in an underground bunker, she should just put up her hand and volunteer to stay aboveground and take the hit. The human race would, clearly, be smarter without her, because God knew she wasn’t contributing anything to the gene pool.

“I’ll have you at the ranch before you know it,” the driver told her as they pulled away from the curb. “Nothing for you to do but sit back and enjoy the view.”

“Thanks so much,” Claudia said vaguely.

The thing was, she’d completely lost her mind over Marcus last night. Completely! Despite having had three failed relationships—three!—in the past four years. Despite swearing to herself that she’d stop leaping into bed with men until she knew them better. Despite the emotional trampling she’d inflicted upon herself and her poor wrecked heart over and over again, in an endlessly looping romantic version of that silly old movie
Groundhog Day.

That’s right. She felt like the black female version of the Bill Murray character, doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over again until she learned better. Which, in her particular case, meant forever, because, as she’d previously established, her stupidity was such that she was incapable of learning from her mistakes.

“Those are the Grand Tetons,” the driver said. “The ranch sits right on the Snake River.”

So now, here she was, once again, nursing a newly wounded heart, which was no less than she deserved. She’d have to chalk it up to a lesson learned—
ahahahahahaha; good one, Claudia!
—and a crisis averted.

Because that was the bottom line, wasn’t it? Thank goodness a little ice water had been splashed on the proceedings before it was too late last night. Thank goodness she hadn’t fallen into bed with a man who was in direct competition for the business of a potential client who could, in one fell swoop, make her a star at her new auction house. And thank goodness she hadn’t given in to a man who was more intriguing than any man she’d ever met and, therefore, far more dangerous to her foolish heart than the average idiot she usually fell for.

All that was assuming, of course, that Marcus had been remotely serious about seeing her again after last night—an awfully big assumption when one considered that men would often say anything when their penises were doing the talking.

As if he’d thought she was something special. Please. What man ever had?

But, Marcus...now,
he
was special. Or at least he had seemed special at a first, hormone-laden glance. With those intense, dark eyes, ridiculously amazing body and, worst of all, keen intelligence and humor. What mere woman was supposed to resist all of that? And on the heels of their shared near-death experience and kiss?

Yeah.

She’d never had a chance.

To her credit, though, she’d tried to resist his charms. That was why she’d hurried off the plane and tried to disappear into the terminal when they landed in Chicago. Too bloody bad she was only slightly shorter than Big Ben and therefore stuck out like a sore thumb. And she’d blown him off there in the terminal, too, although that had been considerably harder, because her head had been turned by his determination to see her again. But she’d done it, hadn’t she? Perhaps that was the thing she needed to focus on. As a case, she wasn’t entirely hopeless, was she? No. Her status should be upgraded to...doubtful.

“Ms. Montgomery?”

The important question was: How was she to deal with Marcus now that they’d both be staying at Judah Cross’s ranch and vying for the privilege of handling his auction? Well, that was easy, wasn’t it? She’d have to revert to her cool businesswoman armor and wear it well. She could do that. And it wasn’t as if they’d be there together on a spa vacation. This was a professional trip, and she’d have no opportunity for canoodling with Marcus, because they’d surely never be alone together. Even she, weak as she was, could handle a couple of days in close quarters with a man she found fabulously intriguing.

“Ms. Montgomery?”

She just had to keep her goals in mind: landing the biggest auction of her career and stopping herself from making the same mistakes with men she always made. Yes. She had a plan—

“Ms. Montgomery!”

Claudia started. “Yes? What?”

The driver caught her gaze in the rearview mirror. “I was asking if you’ve ever been in this part of the country before.”

“I haven’t,” she said.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I’d never live anywhere else.”

Claudia took a good look out her window for the first time, and all the oxygen left her lungs in an audible
whoosh
.

“Yes,” she breathed. “It’s absolutely unbelievable.”

The sky was a bright blaze of cornflower-blue, and the grass was the purest, most intense green she’d ever seen. Mountains rose, jagged and snowcapped, in the distance. Great pines marched up and down both sides of the road, and when she rolled down the window, she was treated to the crisp scent of needles, damp ground and the irresistible earthiness of wood smoke.

This was why she’d always wanted to come West. To wallow in scenery exactly like this.

“I’ve studied up a bit on the wildlife,” she told him.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, and you’ve got bald eagles, foxes, moose, elk, bison, wolves—”

“Bears,” he interjected.

“Yes, but they’re the lovely brown bears, correct? Not the nasty grizzly bears.”

He chuckled, a sound that was not reassuring to her bear-phobic sensibilities. “You want the truth, or a reassuring lie?”

“A reassuring lie, of course.”

“Well, the good thing is that grizzlies aren’t looking to meet you any more than you’re looking to meet them. So I wouldn’t worry too much—”

Claudia’s phone bleeped and she fished it out of her purse. “Excuse me, please. So sorry. Yes, hello? Charles? Is that you?”

“Of course it’s me,” answered her twenty-seven-year-old brother. As always, her ears went into high alert, listening hard for clues about where he was, who he was with and what mess he might be in the process of creating. Messes were big with Charles. He got into them, and she got him out. “Didn’t your phone tell you it was me when you picked up?”

“Yes, but I’m wondering why you’re calling when you’re supposed to be in class right this very second.”

“Maybe I’m calling to see if you made it to the Wild West safely. You didn’t call when you landed yesterday like you promised you would. How many cowboys have you encountered thus far?”

Aaaand there it was. The false geniality accompanied by an uncharacteristic concern about anything that might be happening in her life. It was starting to grate, especially since Mum’s death. Possibly because Mum was no longer there to handle Charles and his ongoing issues 50 percent of the time.

“You don’t give a rat’s arse about my business trip,” she said tartly, acutely aware that it was impossible to have a private conversation with the driver not ten feet away. “What gives?”

“Always the skeptic. Perhaps you could show a bit of trust in my judgment.”

“Yes, but given past history, that would be foolish to the point of insanity.”

A harsh sigh. A pause. A new injection of sadness in his tone. “I’m, ah... I’ve decided I’m taking some time off from school,” he informed her. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for a business degree.”

Claudia’s jaw dropped and the familiar hot flush of frustrated anger flooded her face. Resting her free elbow on the window, she squeezed her eyes closed, rubbed her forehead and strove for patience. Under normal circumstances, if she was in, say, a cab when he called, she’d call him back later. Unfortunately, she was on a business trip and had no idea when she’d be free anytime soon.

That being the case, she put a muzzle on her snarling temper and decided to figure it out now.

“I’m so sorry,” she said to the driver. “Could you please pull over for just a tiny moment? I need to talk to my brother.”

“No worries.”

The driver eased to the side of the road. Claudia got out, slammed the door and stalked away, hoping that with the car’s windows up, she would be well out of earshot. The last thing she needed was the driver reporting back to Judah Cross that she was a nut job who screamed at her brother over the phone.

“Hello?” Charles snapped. “Are you there?”

“I’m here,” she said, weary and annoyed.

“Well, perhaps you could say something. I’m in need of some direction in my life.”

“Fancy that. And what, pray tell,
would
you like to study, Charles? Now that you’re well into your fifth year of an undergraduate program, and we’ve determined, to the tune of several thousand pounds of my money, I might add, that you’re not cut out for degrees in anthropology, French, finance or marketing?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m taking a break from school. I need to figure out what my life’s about.”

This sort of existential mumbo jumbo from Charles exhausted her no end. “What the bloody hell does that mean? Your life is about the same thing everyone else’s life is about. You grow up, get a degree, get a job and become a contributing member of society rather than a leech. Simple. Where’s the complication? What’s so tricky about your poor, privileged life?”

“You know what?” Charles’s veneer of civility was gone now, leaving only the low snarl she was so accustomed to. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Perfect Princess—”

“Don’t call me that!”

“—because what have you ever had to struggle for? Everything you touch turns to spun gold in your manicured hands, doesn’t it?”

Outrage made her want to lunge through the phone and throttle him, but now wasn’t the time, and he wasn’t going to throw her off her game today. Not when her career was at stake.

“Look, Charles,” she said, taking care to keep her voice even and nonjudgmental. “This isn’t a good time for me to talk, all right? I need to focus on landing this auction and launching my career here in New York—”

“Right,” he said bitterly. “It’s always about you and your precious career, isn’t it? I can’t eke out one second in your busy, busy life, can I?”

Her frustration rose until she thought she might gag on it. “This isn’t about
me.
It’s about
you.
If you’re not going to school now, then you need a job. Simple as that. So what’s your plan?”

A pause followed, during which she heard the distant clink of ice and Charles’s audible swallow. The sounds opened up a whole new world of dreadful possibilities.

“Charles?” She pressed a hand to her pounding heart and tried to get it under control. “You’re not drinking again, are you?”

“And there it is. Didn’t take long for that accusation to fly again, did it?”

His tone had taken a sharp turn into ugly, which only scared her more. This was the problem—one of the many problems, actually—with dealing with a heavy drinker: you spent a lot of time trying to trust, trying not to be suspicious, trying to watch for signs, but not being too accusatory when you thought you saw a sign, and then, ultimately, becoming convinced that it was you who was the problem—you who tiptoed along the edge of sanity. Not them.

“Just answer the question, Charles,” she snapped. “Are you?”

“Yes!” he roared.

Her hand flew to her throat. “Oh, God—”

“I’m drinking a glass of ice water, okay? Is that okay? Or is that not legal in the Perfect Princess’s world?”

Her relief, although tinged with a hint of lingering disbelief, was such that she could ignore his renewed use of the nickname.

“Okay, then.” She took a shaky breath. “What’s your plan?”

“Well, I’m hoping you can check with some of your contacts. Maybe see if anyone’s looking to hire.”

“Charles, the economy is in the toilet. No one’s hiring.”

“I know. That’s why I need your help.”

She pulled the cell phone away from her ear and just stared at it, as though maybe it could explain what it would take for Charles to stand on his own two feet for once in his twenty-seven-year-old life. There were times, exactly like this, when she wished she could fling her cell phone into the field of rippling green grass by the road and leave Charles to find his own way in the world for once.

Why was it that every move he made only created more work and worry for her?

“I’ll see what I can do when I get back to New York,” she began. “I can email some contacts back in London and maybe ask—”

“Oh, I thought I mentioned that. I’m coming to New York. I want to work there.”

Every time she thought she’d become immune to the casual grenades Charles tossed her way, he surprised her by lobbing one from another direction.

“Charles, you can’t just up and work in America, for one thing,” she tried. “There are visa and permit requirements you have to meet. And plane tickets aren’t going to be much less than four or five hundred pounds, and we both know you don’t have that kind of money—”

“Actually, I do,” he said brightly. “When I canceled my classes, they gave me a tuition refund, and I used that for my flight.”

It took her a beat to scroll that back in her mind and make sure she’d heard correctly.

“That’s
my
money!” she shouted. So much for the driver not thinking she was a complete lunatic. “
I
paid for your tuition!”

“Don’t worry about it.” His nonchalance was enough to make her blood pressure skyrocket. “I’ll pay you back as soon as you help me get a job.”