Читать книгу Risking It All - Cara Summers - Страница 14

BEMUSED, CHANCE STEPPED back and then followed Natalie into the sitting room of the suite.

“Ahhh. Mirrors. Just what I need.” There was a wicked gleam in her eyes when she turned to face him.

Chance studied her for a moment. The woman in the elevator had been the Natalie who’d haunted his dreams for three months. He would have bet his life on it. But the woman who’d driven him crazy in the car and the woman facing him now was “Rachel.” And he wanted her just as much.

He moved toward her, cupped a hand at the back of her neck. “I want you now.”

She placed a hand on his chest with just enough pressure to preserve the distance between them. “You can have me. But what’s the rush?”

His eyebrows rose. “You were in a hurry in the car.”

She smiled up at him. “What happened in the elevator sort of took the edge off for me.”

He increased the pressure on the back of her neck, and she moved closer so that her body was in contact with his.

“It only built the pressure for me.”

“Yes, I can feel that. But I do have a solution.”

He felt his heart quicken against her palm, saw her eyes darken when she felt its rapid beat, too. She slipped a finger beneath the top button of his shirt and freed it. “You’re going to enjoy what I’m going to do to you. I promise.”

Chance felt his mind begin to cloud as she continued to unbutton his shirt. Each time her fingers brushed against his skin, ribbons of heat fanned out across his skin. She pushed the shirt off of his shoulders and it slid to the floor.

“I wanted to do this right in front of everyone at Sophie Wainwright’s party.”

And she very nearly had, Chance recalled. Her hands were spread out along his waist now, and with her thumbs touching, she drew them upward over his ribs until they were resting just at the bottom of his rib cage.

“Watch what I’m doing in the mirror.”

He could do that. His arms were beginning to feel heavy, but he could still move his eyes.

She rubbed her palms over his nipples and he sucked in a breath.

“You like that,” she murmured as she did it again.

He felt his nipples harden. Her skin was so fair against the darker color of his. And the sensation—

“Let’s try this.” Leaning forward, she moistened one nipple and then the other with her tongue. “I love your taste,” she murmured then repeated the process.

His breath was backed up in his lungs or he would have told her to stop this torture now…or never.

She wrapped her arms around him, slipped her hands beneath the waistband of his trousers and dug her nails into his hips as she began to suckle, first on one nipple and then the other.

When he felt the scrape of her teeth, Chance groaned. What was she doing to him? He’d desired her before. And the strength of that desire had made him reckless and rough. But what she was doing to him now made him weak. No other woman had made him feel this way. Fear mixed with a need so deep that he felt paralyzed.

“You still have too many clothes on,” she murmured.

In the wall of mirrors, he watched her move around him. Her tongue stroked lightly on the skin at the back of his neck, then trailed a damp path down his spine. His skin felt icy and hot at the same time. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe as he watched her strip him of his belt and send his trousers to the floor. Next she removed his briefs. Then she moved around so that she was facing him again.

More than anything he wanted to grab her, pull her to the floor and bury himself in her. But his arms still felt heavy, and he wasn’t sure that he could raise them.

“Watch,” she said. “I’m going to touch you now.”

He was helpless to do anything else as she closed both of her hands around him. Her fingers were hot, and she was doing something magical, twisting gently with one hand at the base of his penis as she pulled with the other.

“I’m going to make you come,” she said.

He wanted to crush her to him. He wanted to feel her beneath him on the floor. But he couldn’t take his eyes off what she was doing to him in the mirror. The steady movement of her hands and the incredible waves of pleasure she was bringing him.

She moved closer to him then until her lips were brushing his. “You can kiss me now. Why don’t you kiss me while you’re coming?”

Whether it was her words or the fact that she kissed him, Chance felt strength and power return to his arms. He gripped the front of her dress and ripped it down the center. Then she was beneath him on the floor.

They rolled as one, mouth to mouth, body to body. Triumphant, Natalie gave herself over to Chance and to the needs that consumed her. This was what she’d wanted from him—this consuming hunger. She could feel the power of it as his hands raced over her, molding, pressing, bruising. She rolled on top of him and devoured. His skin tasted darker and more dangerous now. But she only got a sample before she was crushed beneath him again.

And then he was poised above her.

“Look at me while I take you.”

She stared into his eyes and saw herself. I need you. The words pulsed through her as he drove himself into her. And she gave herself over to the madness.

CHANCE WINCED as he stepped beneath the cold spray of the shower. He was hoping it would clear his mind of the woman he’d just spent the night with. He needed to think.

Just who the hell was she?

As he lathered his shoulders and arms with soap, Chance considered that very fascinating question. The blonde with the sky-blue eyes was definitely Natalie Gibbs but in her new persona, she was different. “Rachel” was more playful, more inventive—he frowned, searching for the right word—more free.

It wasn’t that one woman was any sexier than the other. They were simply two thoroughly delightful sides of Natalie Gibbs, a woman he’d wanted with a desperation that had taken him to the limits of his control—and beyond.

Still, the differences between Natalie and “Rachel” fascinated him. Detective Gibbs had the cool head and the detachment of a cop. He’d admired that from the first time they’d met. And even in the way she made love, she was focused. “Rachel” seemed more impulsive. She had a talent for absorbing herself entirely in the moment. Damned if she hadn’t tempted him into doing the same. In fact, he’d been so absorbed in her that instead of coming up with a plan to convince her to join him on his Florida job, he’d just given himself over to exploring the pleasure they could bring to each other.

The whole night had been a battle, and Chance still wasn’t sure who’d won. He could vividly recall the way her hands had torn at his clothes and his had torn at hers, the way he’d finally dragged her to the floor and she’d wrestled him across it.

He wondered if he would ever forget the way her body had bucked and shuddered beneath his, or the way she’d cried out his name as they’d both drowned in pleasure. Each time when they’d finished with each other, they should have been content. But they hadn’t been. Their appetites had been insatiable.

Never had the need to possess a woman been so intense. It should have scared him. He should have wanted to get out of there—and fast. On some level, he was sure that he did. But overriding that fear was the determination to have Natalie Gibbs with him when he went to Brancotti’s estate.

Turning around, he let the cold water slap him in the face. The night was over. He had to get it out of his head and decide how to approach her about the Florida job.

Would she admit to him this morning that she was Natalie Gibbs, or would she continue to pretend that she was Rachel Cade? That was the question.

It might be fun to have them both along on the Florida job. But having fun wasn’t the issue. Catching his old childhood nemesis was. He couldn’t allow himself to jeopardize that.

After stepping out of the shower, Chance grabbed a towel and rubbed himself dry. The night was over. If Natalie didn’t put an end to the masquerade, he would. The situation might be a little difficult at first—especially if she didn’t want to be unmasked. But Natalie, the cop, was someone he knew how to deal with because they were a great deal alike.

Still, he thought with a smile, he was going to miss Rachel.

NATALIE SURFACED SLOWLY, her senses awakening one at a time. Rain—the steady sound of it lulled her. Keeping her eyes closed, she let herself drift, savoring the protection of the warm cocoon she was still wrapped in. This was one of her favorite parts of the day, the brief span of time in the morning before her alarm rang when she could feel the sunlight splashing across her bed, see the lightness of it beyond her eyelids and still not have to face it.

Burrowing more deeply into her pillow, she drew in a deep breath. Something was different. For a moment she couldn’t put a name to it. How could she feel sunshine and hear the soft, steady fall of rain at the same time? Even as the question formed in her mind, she realized it wasn’t the scent of her vanilla candle she smelled. It was…Chance.

Opening her eyes, she sat up as everything came flooding back into her mind. A quick glance around the room told her that she hadn’t dreamed the night she’d just spent with Chance Mitchell. She was in a suite at the Meridian, and the rain that had lulled her was the sound of the shower.

When it had stopped, she pushed hair out of her face and felt a little flutter of panic. At any moment Chance could step into the room.

And then what?

The second flutter of panic was strong enough to have her throwing back the covers and grabbing one of the hotel robes. As she was tying the belt, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and dropped her hands. She wasn’t Natalie Gibbs. Lifting a hand, she toyed with the ends of her hair. She was Rachel Cade. Natalie might have concerned herself with morning-after etiquette, but Rachel Cade didn’t.

A smile curved her lips. After living in Rachel’s skin for one long glorious night, Natalie knew that her alter ego didn’t concern herself with much of anything but the pursuit of pleasure.

Raising her arms over her head, she stretched. Each little twinge of muscle brought back pImages** and sensations from the night she’d just spent with Chance Mitchell.

He had kissed her—finally. And the man had an incredible mouth. She ran her fingers over her lips and sighed. Nothing had ever come close to what she’d felt or what she’d done during the two nights she’d spent with Chance Mitchell. Natalie might have worried about that. But Rachel was already wondering about stretching the experience into another day at least—and perhaps a night.

Natalie laughed. She was going to have to thank Sierra for her suggestion. Sex was a lot more fun when you didn’t have to bring your personal baggage along.

A buzzer sounded at the door of the room and she heard a muffled voice say, “Room service.”

When she opened the door, the waiter rolled a cart in and positioned it near a window that offered a view of the Mall.

“Rolls and glassware are on the lower shelf. Will there be anything else, ma’am?”

Natalie waved a dismissive hand, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the spread that the waiter had delivered. Four white plates with silver covers were arranged on a cheery yellow cloth and in the center stood a pitcher of orange juice, a thermal container of coffee and a champagne bottle in a silver bucket.

A funny little feeling moved through her as she ran a finger over a single yellow rose that lay on one napkin. This kind of care wasn’t something she’d come to expect from a man.

She peeked under one silver lid and saw crisp bacon and plump sausages.

“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I ordered a bit of everything.”

Natalie turned to see Chance walk into the room. He was wearing trousers, but not his shirt. His feet were bare, his hair still damp from the shower. Her throat went dry. Incredibly, she wanted him all over again.

“I’d like you,” she said.

THE VOICE, the look she was giving him told Chance it was still Rachel he was dealing with, and if she continued to look at him in that way, the breakfast he’d ordered was going to get very cold.

Business, Chance reminded himself. Keep it light. “I thought it might be nice if we shared a meal—since we never got around to eating last night. That way we can talk and get to know one another.”

She laughed. “So we have a night of wild, sweaty sex and then we have a date?”

It occurred to him that he’d never had a date with Natalie in either of her personas. “Something like that. I’d like to get to know you.”

It was nothing less than the truth. In spite of his resolution to end the game she was playing, he was still intrigued by this side of Natalie. What could it hurt to delay the unmasking until after breakfast?

Natalie lifted one of the silver covers at random, then settled herself into a chair. “An omelet. I guess I could use the protein for energy.”

It was his turn to laugh as he took the seat across from her. Oh, it was definitely Rachel he was dealing with. He was going to miss her. “I was beginning to think you had an unending supply.”

She sliced into the eggs. “Well, we could certainly test your theory.”

Chance concentrated on the practical matter of lifting silver covers until he found what he was looking for. Then he scooped yogurt into a bowl and added fresh fruit and a little wheat germ.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He glanced up startled. “What for?”

“That.” She pointed to his bowl of yogurt. “You must have ordered that for me. Here.” She pushed her plate toward him. “Have some of the omelet. It’s delicious.”

“Thanks, but this is what I eat every day.”

“You’re kidding.”

The horrified expression on her face made him smile.

“I like to be careful about what I put into my body.”

“And here I’d pegged you for a risk-taker.” She met his eyes. “But I guess you’re doing something right. You’ve got a great body.”

She was making it hard to stick to the date plan. “What do you usually eat for breakfast?”

She shrugged as she lifted another forkful of eggs. “I’m a cop, so you get one guess.”

“Donuts?”

She pointed a fork at him. “You got it. I prefer them day old so I can dunk them in the dreadful coffee they serve at the station.”

Chance’s eyes narrowed. “So…you’re a cop like your cousin Natalie?”

As she set her cup down, some of the coffee spilled onto the saucer. “Yes. Fort Lauderdale.”

For a few moments, she busied herself with eating, and Chance wondered if admitting to being a cop had been a slipup. Perhaps, now was the time to tell her that he knew who she was. He could reach over, take her hand and say, “Natalie, I know.”

But once he did that, would “Rachel” disappear? “Do you like being a cop?”

“Sure.” This time when her eyes met his he saw a trace of amusement. “Is this the part where we exchange bios?”

Chance shrugged as he set down his spoon. “Standard first date talk. You interest me, Rachel Cade. Ever do any undercover work on the job?”

She hesitated only an instant. “Some. You should see me in my hooker clothes.”

A vivid image filled Chance’s mind, but he shoved it away. “I’ve heard your cousin Natalie is good with locks. Any chance that you’re good with them, too?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Anything Nat can do, I can do better. You know, this is beginning to sound like a job interview.”

Chance couldn’t help thinking that Rachel’s mind was every bit as sharp as her “cousin’s.” “How long are you going to be visiting your cousins?”

“I’m not sure.” She lifted her cup and drained it. Then she sent him a provocative smile. “Why do you ask?”

Because at some point in their conversation, Chance had scratched his original game plan and come up with a new one. He wasn’t at all ready to lose Rachel Cade yet. He wanted her in Florida with him. His head might tell him that he was taking a dangerous risk by not ending Natalie’s masquerade right now, but something much closer to the bone was telling him that he was going to need both women to catch Brancotti. “I’ve got a little proposition to make you and it will involve about a week of your time.”

She reached over and ran a finger down the back of his hand. “Sounds perfect. Especially, if it’s anything like the proposition I made you last night….”

Chance shook his head. “It’s more of a job offer, and it’s dangerous.” He saw something flicker in her eyes, just once. Surprise or something else? “You’ll have to wear a disguise.”

She said nothing, but her expression had stilled and the woman studying him now was Detective Natalie Gibbs through and through.

“I was thinking of asking your cousin Natalie. I need someone who’s good at disguise and it wouldn’t hurt at all if you could break into a safe. If you’re interested, I think we could work very well together.”

She said nothing at all, but he could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. Chance felt a little sinking sensation in his stomach. Would she tell him that she was really Natalie? With the seconds ticking away, he watched her closely. If there was any struggle going on inside of her, he saw no evidence of it. Oh, this was the cool, sharp detective all right. But he couldn’t help remembering the impulsive and incredibly responsive woman he’d spent the night with. How many other facets were there to Natalie Gibbs?

Finally, she said, “I might be interested. Tell me what it involves.”

Leaning forward, Chance did just that. He explained everything just as he had to Tracker—the missing Ferrante diamond, its resurfacing and the upcoming auction for a select group of invited guests. Then he told her about the cover. They would go in as a billionaire software nerd and his current piece of arm candy. The only things he left out were Venetia Gaston’s death and his personal relationship to Brancotti.

“Brancotti’s estate is in South Florida. Have you heard of him?”

Natalie shook her head. “We wouldn’t if he keeps himself as clean as you say he does.”

Smooth, Chance thought. But of course, she wouldn’t lie unless she had to. No one who had lived undercover and had to tell lies for long periods of time ever told more than necessary.

“What do you say?” Chance asked.

YES. NATALIE HAD to bite down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep from saying the word out loud. As much as the “Rachel” part of her wanted to agree, she knew that she had to think. More than that, she needed to make a few phone calls and find out more about this Brancotti. She couldn’t just up and run off to Florida and pretend to be some high-tech billionaire’s arm candy. Could she?

Of course not. She never acted on impulse. Oh, she took risks, certainly. But she always weighed her options, ascertained the consequences and made plans accordingly.

But she was so tempted to throw caution to the wind and say yes. Chance was offering her just the kind of assignment she’d always dreamed of. She could use her talents, and she would be working with one of the best men in his field.

She lifted the pot and refilled her cup. There were other things to consider. There had to be. For one thing, he thought she was Rachel Cade. She should tell him right now about the trick she’d pulled on him. But if she did, would he become annoyed and withdraw his offer?

Plus, she wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to give up being Rachel Cade.

The voice came then, pushing past the fears and doubts skulking around in her mind like a shadowy thief. “Trust in your talents.”

Chance chose that moment to take her hand in his and raise it to his lips. “What do you say, Rachel?”

It was Natalie who was dithering, and she knew in an instant what Rachel would say.

“What time do we leave?”

SHE HAD TO BE CRAZY, Natalie thought as she lifted the ten-pound weights that Chance had given her. He selected heavier ones for himself, then turned to face her.

“Do what I do,” he said as he raised his arms until they were level with his shoulders, held for a count of five and then lowered them.

She did. Although she’d told him that she was in good shape, he’d insisted on putting her to the test. The moment that she’d agreed to go with him to Florida, he’d told her that they were going to take a five-mile run through Rock Creek Park. He’d even bought her some shoes and workout clothes in one of the hotel’s gift shops.

When she’d asked why he was testing her, he’d merely said that he needed to make sure she could keep up with him if they had to make a run for it. The run had lasted well beyond five miles. After forty minutes she was still matching him stride for stride, and he’d been the one to call it quits.

Now they were using the hotel gym. It was located on the lobby level, and offered weight machines, tread-mills, free weights and a large pool that started indoors and ended outside. Four glass walls made the room about as private as a fishbowl.

Lifting the weights to her shoulders, she began to follow Chance’s lead through a combination of lunges and squats. When he finally set down his weights and took hers, he said, “You’re good.”

Her brows shot up. “I’m a cop, remember.”

“Not all cops stay in shape.” Then turning, he led the way to a mat. “Let’s see what you can do in hand-to-hand combat.”

For a moment she stared at him. “You’re serious?”

He smiled at her. “Unless you think you can’t take me.”

Unable to resist the challenge, she stepped onto the mat and began to circle slowly. He knew what buttons to push. She’d have to remember that and push a few of her own. He was bigger than she was and stronger. On the job when she’d had to use physical force, she’d always been able to play the looks-like-a-fragile-woman card. That wouldn’t work here. So her best option was distraction.

Keeping her eyes on his, she said, “What’s next? Target practice?”

He laughed, and she very nearly allowed herself to be distracted by the sound as she moved in and hooked her foot behind his. Once she had him off balance, she aimed her elbow at his stomach. An instant before it connected, she found her arms pinned to her side and before she could blink, she was lying beneath him, facedown on the mat.

While she struggled for a breath, she was vaguely aware of applause. But she was much more aware of Chance’s body pressing hers into the mat, of his voice in her ear. “You’ll have to work on your eyes. They give you away.”

She would work on that, she vowed as she got to her feet.

This time she let him make the move, and she blocked it.

“Good,” he said. “Now try this one.”

He moved fast as a snake, but she moved faster. He didn’t talk after that, and neither did she. She wasn’t even sure how much time had passed as he made one move after another and she attempted to block them. She lost count of how often she ended up pinned to the floor. But each time, he helped her to her feet and taught her the countermove that would have stopped him.

He was very good, better than any martial arts instructor she’d ever trained under. But she would have bitten her tongue out rather than tell him. Nor was she about to tell him that she’d never before responded to martial arts instruction like it was foreplay. Her mind might be calculating countermoves, but her body had become very sensitized to his touch. In the course of their workout, his forearms had brushed against her breasts. His hands had gripped her calves, her thighs, her hips. Twice when they’d rolled on the floor his leg had been between her thighs. When he finally called it quits and grinned at her, in spite of her annoyance, she wanted to jump him.

If there hadn’t been an audience with their noses pressed against the glass walls surrounding them, she might have. Instead, she smiled at him, shook his hand. As they walked together toward the shower rooms, she bided her time. When he was least expecting it, she gave him a quick shove into the pool.

Then with the applause of the spectators in her ears, she waited until he surfaced and grinned down at him. “Thanks for the tip about the eyes.”

“Anytime,” he said as he gripped the side of the pool. “I don’t suppose you want to give me a hand out of the pool.”

She grinned down at him. “Do I have the word Sucker written on my forehead?” Then she turned and walked away.

CARLO BRANCOTTI sat in his office, looking over the file that Lisa had just handed him. Sun streamed through the open French doors and a breeze from the ocean played with the wind chimes on the patio. When he finished reading Lisa’s report, he glanced up. “So—which one of these would a clever insurance investigator choose to impersonate?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t able to eliminate any of them.”

Carlo studied her for a moment. Lisa was a very cautious woman. He paid her to be just that. “Take an educated guess. If you wanted to trap Carlo Brancotti, which one of these people would you attempt to impersonate?”

She thought for a moment. “I’d choose Steven Bradford. But you don’t pay me for guessing.”

“Why Bradford?”

“I suppose because he’s so squeaky clean. He’s never entered this kind of a market before. Plus, he avoids the press. The only picture I was able to come up with was from his college days. If Interpol wanted to slip someone in, we’d be hard-pressed to see through the disguise.”

It wasn’t Interpol he was worried about. Carlo studied the picture of a thin young man with long, brownish-blond hair. Bradford would be twelve years older now, a man instead of a boy. The body would have filled out, the hairstyle changed.

“Good choice,” he murmured. Then he glanced at the photos of Steven Bradford’s current girlfriend.

She hadn’t been a model long. The one layout that Lisa had come up with featured a tall blonde modeling a bathing suit while playing volleyball. She was wearing sunglasses in each picture. He picked one up and studied it more closely. Steven Bradford was a lucky man. “What about the woman? This…” he paused to find the name, “Calli? The government doesn’t always send a male agent.”

Lisa frowned. “But you won’t invite her to the actual auction. She won’t have access to the diamond.”

True. Still, he wasn’t going to dismiss the possibility that the model known only as Calli wasn’t as harmless as she appeared. He was going to enjoy getting to know her better when she arrived. He picked up the next picture. “What about Armand Genovese?”

“He would be my second choice. He’s wearing a hat and sunglasses in every picture, so we can’t be sure what he looks like either. Also this is his first venture into the black market.”

Now Carlo smiled. “Only because he has other sources for stolen art and jewels. Ones that don’t always require top dollar.”

“True. Which makes it a little surprising for him to contact you. Perhaps because of his methods of acquisition he’s made a deal with the government.”

“Good point.” This was precisely why he paid Lisa McGill a very good salary. She had a razor-sharp mind as well as a knack for computers and research.

For the first time since she’d come into the room, Lisa relaxed slightly. “Thank you, sir.”

Carlo turned his attention to the third photo. When it had been taken, Risa Manwaring had been the toast of Hollywood. That had been at least twenty-five years ago. “And why might a very clever insurance agent choose to impersonate Risa Manwaring?”

“Because once she married that British lord, she shunned the press, so no telling what she looks like now. And as you said yourself, the government doesn’t always send a male agent.”

“True. Good work, Lisa,” Carlo said as he slipped the file into a drawer and locked it.

“Thank you, sir.”

“When Bradford arrives, we’ll put him in the Venetian room. That way we can keep very close tabs on him. Signore Genovese will stay in the Tuscan room, and Ms. Manwaring in the Neopolitan room. Make sure that all three rooms are wired and that the security cameras in the walls are well hidden.”

“I’ll see to it myself, sir.”

When Lisa left the room, Carlo rose from his desk and turned to the painting that hung behind him. After moving it aside, he opened his safe and took out two velvet pouches. One was red and the other was black. After setting them on his desk, he removed a diamond from each pouch, then carried them out through the French doors to his patio. It was early, not yet eight o’clock, but the sun was pouring directly into the courtyard. It shot light into both stones and the facets in each captured that light and seemed to glow from within.

Both were a rare shade of canary-yellow, and only one of them was real—the Ferrante diamond. The other was a very carefully crafted fake. Only a skilled gemologist would be able to tell the difference.

Carlo smiled as he looked down at them. He would use them both to set a trap for “Chance Mitchell.” There was nothing that he enjoyed more than a game of cat and mouse with a worthy opponent.

Too bad that he would have to end the game for good this time.