Wicked Pleasures (8 page)

She left the office, and seconds later she left the house. Ian's limo was waiting outside the door, the driver opening the door for her with instructions that he was to take her to her hotel. It beat a cab.

She stepped into the luxurious vehicle and breathed out a trembling sigh of relief as the door closed behind her. Seconds later, she was heading to her hotel, alone.

As alone as she had ever been, and hating it more than she ever had.

"Ya know, you're the dumbest bastard I think I've ever seen." Chase stepped out from behind Cam, watching the limo, as it drove through the gates, leaving the Sinclair estate and taking beautiful Jaci Wright away.

Chase had heard their conversation. It was his job to tape it and to secure the disc the recording was on. He doubted either of them were aware of what the disc revealed, though. A male and female, each eating the other with their eyes, hunger and torment reflected in their gazes.

Their expressions had shown a variety of emotions. Cool hauteur, cold arrogance, irritation, mockery, and pure anger. It was amusing to watch, but the eyes hadn't changed.

"I didn't ask for your opinion," Cam muttered, and Chase almost laughed at the irritation in his brother's voice. There were few things that could piss Cam off anymore, but from the moment they had first begun Jaci's file, Cam had seethed with possessive male fury.

"The worst thing we can do is leave her alone." Chase rocked back on his heels and watched as the limo drove out of sight. "Since you're determined to hold back as you always do, though, maybe I could just continue the seduction myself. You obviously have no clue."

Cam felt his teeth grit at the thought. Jaci's expression when she realized she had slammed into him had pierced his soul like an arrow. Her wide eyes as innocent, as filled with pain, as they had been seven years ago, had stared back at him for one, unguarded moment. Arousal and pain and the memory of the pleasure that had bound them the night before reflected from them.

"Let her go for tonight," he ordered his brother, an unfamiliar spike of possessiveness resounding through him.

"Women like Jaci shouldn't be given too much time to think," Chase told him. "They get odd ideas, start thinking about protecting their hearts, and off they run. She's ready to run."

"She's not going anywhere." He would see to it.

"I don't know, Cam . . ."

"I'll take care of it." He didn't need Chase for this. Jaci was his fight and his alone.

"Like you did in Oklahoma? Like you did last night and this morning?" Chase questioned with amused condescension in his voice.

"I said I'll take care of it." Cam turned on him, barely restraining the anger burning inside him.

Chase smiled back at him. Cam could see his amusement, the fact that his anger didn't faze him. Not a lot fazed Chase. He rolled with whatever life threw at him, and he did it with the flash of that knowing smile—the same one he was flashing Cam now.

"Maybe that's what I'm scared of, baby brother, the way you take care of things." Chase chuckled. "But I'll let you fuck up first. Piss her off real good, okay? Maybe she'll be receptive to me the next time I offer to take her home."

That really shouldn't have angered him, but it did. Cam turned quickly, his eyes narrowing on the driveway as Chase headed back into the mansion. His brother was perfectly serious, and Cam knew it. Seven years ago, he had wanted Jaci with the same hunger that Cam had. But Chase hadn't known the same emotions, emotions Cam still tried to hide.

It was Cam
she
had wanted, though. And Cam had wanted her with a force that he hadn't known before or since—a force that unleashed all the possessive and dominant traits he'd never had a problem holding back before.

"Matthew?"

"Yes, Mr. Falladay?" Matthew stepped from inside the house.

"Have one of the boys bring the Harley around. And please inform Mr. Sinclair I'll be back in the morning."

"Yes, Mr. Falladay."

Long minutes later, one of the houseboys Ian employed to keep the grounds cleared and under control rode the Harley out of the back garage with a wide grin.

"Here you go, sir." He pushed the kickstand down with reverence and swung off the cycle. "She's all gassed up and everything. I took care of her this morning when you came in."

The wicked, black, customized Harley was the pride and joy of every maintenance worker on the estate. Ian really needed to get his own for his employees to lust over.

"Thanks, Danny." Cam straddled the seat, raised the kickstand, and engaged the powerful motor. Seconds later, he was speeding toward Alexandria and the woman that thought she had gotten away.

Jaci entered her suite with a sigh of relief, kicked off her pumps, and stared around the elegantly appointed hotel sitting room.

The ever-present vase of flowers were on the desk. Fresh, of course. The minibar was fully stocked, the refrigerator filled with a variety of goodies, all at Ian Sinclair's expense—part of her fee for the interior design of the mansion that he would no longer be calling home, but would instead be turning over to his club.

Good Lord, she hadn't heard even a breath of rumor attached to him. Well, perhaps a breath—several years ago, by a wife involved in a very nasty divorce—but it had been quickly silenced. Now she knew why. If it carried half the power Cam had warned her it did, then it was legion. Legendary. Probably dangerous.

She should call Ian Sinclair right now and say thanks but no thanks, return his deposit, and return to Oklahoma to lick her wounds and find another career.

She moved across the room to the bar. It was only a little after noon, but the glass of wine was much needed. Something to settle her nerves and give her a chance to think. She really needed a chance to consider this.

No wonder Cam and Chase were here. Considering their sexual tastes, there was probably no keeping them away. She sipped at the wine before curling into the corner of the fluffy, comfortable couch, where she tried to consider her options. But all she could see was Cam's face. His eyes. The vicious scar that marred one side of his face.

What had happened to him? She knew they occasionally kept in touch with her parents, surely they would have told her if they had known Cam had been hurt.

Or would they have? Her father had been waiting up when Cam brought her home that night, seven years before. He had taken one look at her face and the man's shirt she wore, and had known. He hadn't said a word. He had wrapped his arms around her, patted her back, and then let her escape, as she had needed to.

Perhaps they wouldn't have told her if Cam had been hurt, because she would have gone to him if she had known. She covered her face with one hand and breathed out wearily. She wouldn't have been able to stop herself. No matter where he was, she would have tried to get to him.

She was just as weak where he was concerned now as she had been seven years ago. He made her want things she knew she couldn't have or accept.

The ring of her cell phone drew her from her thoughts. Pulling it from the band of her skirt, she looked at the display, sighed again, and brought it to her ear as she connected the call.

"Yes, Courtney?" She should have known the other woman would call. Jaci was just grateful Courtney hadn't made a trip to the hotel instead.

"Are you upset?" Courtney asked carefully.

Was she upset?

"Not with you." And did Ian share his wife? If he owned the club, then wouldn't he share those same dark desires? How did Courtney handle that?

"Cam said you didn't quit. Does that mean you'll be back in the morning?"

"I'll be there." She hadn't known until that second that she would be. Hadn't known how crazy she was, until those words slipped past her lips.

"We'll take coffee in my sitting room," Courtney said softly. "We can talk."

"Do we need to talk, Courtney?" Jaci asked her. At this point, she didn't want to talk about it. If she talked about it, then she had to acknowledge it.

"Only about subjects you wish to discuss," Courtney said, but Jaci could hear the question in her voice.

"That works for me, then," she told her friend brightly. "I'll see you around ten."

"Jaci, don't judge things you don't understand too harshly," Courtney warned her softly. "Please."

Jaci shook her head. "I don't judge at all, Courtney. You know better than that. Except overbearing, superior men," she said as an afterthought. "But I've found I've not judged them harshly enough."

Courtney gave a light, relieved laugh. "Excellent. I'll have coffee waiting and I'll make certain the cook prepares us a nice little snack."

They disconnected the call, and Jaci rose to her feet, finished the wine, and moved to enter the bedroom. As she reached the doorway, she heard the door open.

Turning, she stepped back into the sitting room then stared in surprise at the man that closed the door behind him, his gaze leveled back at her, his expression hard, cool.

Cam.

"Why am I not surprised?" She wasn't. Somehow, she had known he would follow her.

She stared at his scarred visage, the icy green eyes, and felt the same tightness in her chest that she had felt earlier. The thin white scar looked painful, haunting.

"We need to talk."

"You didn't come here to talk, Cam." A bitter laugh left her lips. "I'm just surprised you didn't bring Chase with you."

His lips flattened, his eyes losing their icy cast long enough to flicker with a surge of anger. Fine, let him be angry. She was angry as well. She hadn't asked him about his damned club, she hadn't wanted to know. And if they hadn't intended to pull her into their dirty little games, then they could have made certain she knew no more than she had when she was first hired for the job.

"Chase is on his way." He shrugged, watching her closely.

"You conceited jackass," she snarled. "You make me just want to hit you."

"You really shouldn't hold back, Jaci, just say what's on your mind," he said mockingly as he moved farther into the room.

"Oh, just go away," she muttered. "I'm not in the mood to spar with you today."

"Because I shocked you?" He stopped in front of her, staring down at her intently, as she refused to retreat. "Or because I hurt you this morning? I didn't mean to."

And he even managed to say that sincerely.

"Because you pissed me off," she told him. "And it has nothing to do with last night. Last night was just a mistake, and I don't repeat mistakes. You talked to me as though you had pulled me off the streets and had to threaten me to gain my silence." She shook her head in disgust. "You should have let me walk out. It would have been easier on both of us."

"Seven years is a long time," he told her as she turned and plopped back on the couch, curling her legs beneath her. "Too long to want a woman the way I've craved you, sweetheart. I didn't say this would be easy. But we'll work it out."

"There is nothing to work out." She glared back at him.

"Isn't there?" he asked, taking the chair beside the couch and staring back at her intently. "You don't trust me, Jaci, or you would have told me what I needed to know about Roberts."

Her lips twisted mockingly. "So it has to come down to what you want, versus my privacy? If you'd done your job right you'd know I don't carry tales, Cam. So, why don't we discuss you for a while? Do you slight every woman you fuck the way you slighted me last night, or am I just an anomaly?"

"If I'd done my job right, I would have managed to identify any old lovers as well," he stated. "But those didn't turn up, either. And I didn't slight you."

It would be damned hard to identify a vibrator. She kept her lips firmly closed, her gaze locked with his. Would he be shocked to know she had never had sex with a man or a woman? Had that little issue of trust, and the awareness of how easily she could feel betrayed, reared its ugly head too often?

He nodded slowly. "We'll do it your way for now, but my time will come."

Why that statement sent a jagged pulse of heat racing through her, she wasn't certain.

"You've changed," she finally said. "You're harder, Cam. Colder."

"I'm still the man who would kill for you," he stated matter-offactly.

Jaci swallowed tightly. He was completely serious.

"Fine. I'll make a list for you." She finally shrugged, opting not to believe that declaration. "Give me a few days. It may take awhile to remember every son of a bitch who ever pissed me off. But what will you do when you find your name on the list?"

She should have felt stalked. Instead, she knew instinctively what he meant. Realizing how certain she was of that knowledge was almost frightening. Cam would protect her, and, in his way, he was assuring her of that. Even now, so many years after he had made the promise, he still stood by it. And she had no doubt he meant it.

"I won't find my name on that list." His lips quirked in a cool smile. "And I'm afraid if I did, I'd have to ignore it. I would do nothing to hurt you, Jaci. You know that. I might paddle your behind for being so stubborn, but I wouldn't hurt you."

"Is this a new seduction technique? You keep threatening to hit me Cam, and I'm going to get worried."

He snorted at that before leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees while he clasped his hands.

"We need to talk about this thing between us." His gaze was intent, somber.

"No we don't." She was perfectly content to just stay furious with him for a little while longer. "Unless you're going to explain why you couldn't sleep with me."

He stared at her from between thick, lush black lashes, his tanned face seemingly wicked, with that scar running down it. As she stared at him, that ache inside her expanded, filled her chest, and then went deeper. What had happened to her dark knight that had scarred his body and made him unwilling to share something as simple as a bed with a woman?

That was such a small intimacy, really, in the total scheme of things. But as she watched him, she could feel a knowledge, a certainty that the Cam she knew was still there somewhere. And she wondered why in the hell she felt so compelled to reach out to him.

"What happened?" she finally whispered. "How were you hurt?"

She needed to know.

"Does the scar affect what's between us?" he asked, watching her closely.

"There is no 'us'," she reminded him, ignoring the clenching of her heart. "You don't sleep with me, you don't do anything else with me. Period."

His lips quirked mockingly as his hand lifted, two fingers thoughtfully running down the scar. "My last mission in the service went bad," he finally stated. "We were ambushed in Afghanistan and taken prisoner for a few days before we escaped. My chest is pretty messed up, too, as well as my back. It's not a pretty sight."

Her breath caught. "You were hurt that bad?" Terror snaked through her.

"I nearly died." He shrugged as though it didn't matter. "The doctors were frankly surprised that I survived."

She had almost lost him. She stared back at him, her breathing harsh, the certainty that he had nearly been taken out of this world slamming inside her.

"I'm fine, Jaci." He was watching her too closely, his eyes no longer icy, but thoughtful instead, as she reached for the wine, finished it, and then smacked the glass back to the table.

"You are now." She hadn't known. She had been focused on her own life all those years, refusing to contact him, to even check on him. He was in the military and she had known it, the chance of danger in his particular field had been high. Why hadn't it occurred to her that Cam could be hurt?

"I am now." He was still watching her with that quizzical expression of a male pondering a puzzle. "Why does it matter?"

She glanced back at him in surprise. "I didn't know." She finally shook her head as she felt the pain of not knowing, of not being there if or when he had needed her. He had promised to protect her seven years before, and she knew that if he knew the truth about the Robertses, he would make certain neither Richard nor Annalee darkened her life again. Yet, she hadn't been able to even contact him, to make certain he was alright.

"Would knowing have mattered?" His expression turned cynical, cool. "Chase was there. I was in Germany for several months recuperating. I wasn't alone."

"But I didn't know," she said again. "I would have been there."

His eyes narrowed. "I don't need pretty words, sweetheart. I survived. That was all that mattered."

Yes he had, and he had somehow, somewhere, turned cold and hard, so that she wondered if the Cam she had been so fascinated with even existed anymore.

And whether he did or not, she needed to know the damage done. She needed to know what had happened to the man she had idolized, the extent of his pain, and how bad the enemy had scarred his precious body.

It wasn't the scarring that bothered her so much, it was the pain. The scar across his cheek made him appear more wicked—rakish and dangerous. But the thought of the pain he must have felt traveled through her mind and pushed her, tormented her, drove her to see how much worse it had been.

"I want to see." She moved from the couch as he watched her, surprised when she pushed his knees apart and knelt between them, her fingers going to the buttons of his shirt.

The icy expression he had come in with was gone, at least. But she didn't know what to think about the faintly quizzical expression of male confusion in his eyes as he watched her.

"You want to see
what
?"

"How bad they hurt you," she whispered. "I need to see, Cam."

Cameron watched, his head slightly tilted, his arms resting carefully on the sides of the chair, as Jaci's slender, graceful fingers trembled over the buttons of his shirt and began to slip them free.