Читать книгу The Black Sheep and The English Rose - Donna Kauffman - Страница 6

Someone else had gotten to her first.

It. Someone else had gotten to it first. She had nothing to do with it. Or shouldn’t have. But then, he could be forgiven for being slightly distracted. He’d just broken into one of New York City’s finer five star hotel suites expecting to be dazzled by a sapphire sparkler…only he’d thought the gorgeous gem would come in the form of a priceless Byzantine necklace. Not a stunning redhead tied to a bed in little more than midnight blue satin and lace.

If she was surprised to see him, her scowl didn’t let on.

The last time Finn Dalton had laid eyes on Felicity Jane Trent, she’d been dripping in diamonds. Someone else’s diamonds. Two years had passed since that stormy winter night in Prague. Her penchant for hot gemstones, however, apparently had not.

The only difference was that this time, someone else had gotten to her first. So, rather than rescuing a priceless antiquity, Finn was left with the option of rescuing Felicity Jane.

He leaned against the doorway of the elegantly appointed bedroom and folded his arms. “Hello, Jane.” He smiled when she bristled. He was certain she felt that was far too common a name for a woman like her, which was mostly why he’d used it. Jane was a strong, no-nonsense moniker, much like its owner. Felicity, on the other hand, was a name that conjured up images of a beautiful, innocent sprite whose most pressing problem was attempting to find the heels she’d kicked off the night before.

The only resemblance Felicity Jane bore to a beautiful, innocent sprite was the beautiful part.

“I didn’t steal it,” she informed him, her crisp English accent reflecting both her Oxford education and a pedigree that would make even the royals gush in approval. Not that they would approve of her if they knew. Knew what only Finn knew.

“Well, not to state the obvious,” he said, “but whatever it was you didn’t steal is clearly no longer in your possession, so it’s rather a moot point now, isn’t it?”

“Whatever it was?” She all but spat his words back at him.

But then, he already knew from personal experience how much she hated to lose.

“You’re honestly going to stand there and pretend that we aren’t here for the same purpose?” She laughed then, but there was little humor in it.

“Actually, I’m standing here wondering why he didn’t gag you. And why you aren’t screaming bloody murder. Given that, you know, you weren’t here to steal anything.”

“Rather a sexist observation, don’t you think?”

“What, that I assumed you were outsmarted by a man?” He smiled. “Again?”

“Not outsmarted. Everything was perfectly planned. I merely turned my attention away for a single moment and—” She’d instantly leapt to defend herself, then, realizing the trap, wisely clammed up.

“Not sexist,” he went on, nodding at her clothing. Or lack thereof. And enjoying the moment far more than he knew was wise. “I simply deduced that it wasn’t likely you’d been entertaining someone of the same sex.” He cocked his head. “But I’ve been wrong before.”

She sniffed. “Pig.”

“Just a man. I hope you don’t mind if I take a brief moment to imagine…” He closed his eyes and let his smile slowly spread to a grin.

“A pig and a scoundrel, but then I learned as much in Prague.”

He opened his eyes, his smile not wavering so much as a tic. He wondered if she’d noted his heightened awareness, though. She didn’t miss much. “Funny, I don’t recall you using either of those terms to describe me that night. In fact, as I remember it, the terms you used were more along the lines of life-altering and—”

“Nothing more than an ego stroke, I assure you. Men like to hear what they want to hear, after all.” Her tone had become quite clipped, but her skin tone had warmed. And she couldn’t seem to keep her gaze from dipping below his chin. Possibly recalling, as was he, that last night they’d been together. It had been rather…memorable. And for far more reasons than the manner in which it had unfortunately ended.

“Had it only been my ego you were stroking at the time, perhaps I’d agree, but that kind of sincerity—and, well, the word ‘awe’ comes to mind—really can’t be faked.”

Her gaze jerked to his. This time she looked him up and down quite insolently. “You’d be amazed by what can be faked.”

He gave her the same once-over. “Perhaps.” He smiled. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had the opportunity to learn much about that, however.”

“So certain of your prowess, are you? Or is it simply a lack of experience?”

He pushed away from the door frame. “Why don’t I let you be the judge of that.”

She didn’t so much as squirm when he walked into the room, despite being at a very distinct disadvantage. In fact, she easily held his gaze as he approached, her own demeanor far more that of someone conducting a boardroom coup than a woman presently shackled to a bed with little more than an ounce of silk keeping her dignity intact. Hell, Felicity Jane could have been completely naked, and somehow she’d still manage to appear as unruffled and in control as if she were the one doing the interrogating.

He should know.

It was one of the many complexities about her that he used as his excuse for acting so completely out of character whenever he got within five feet of her. He paused at the foot of the bed.

“I would be happy to recite the terms of endearment I used after we parted,” she informed him. “Nothing you haven’t heard before, I’m certain.”

He sighed then. “At least I had the foresight to gag you. Although your uses for that bow tie from my tux were certainly more creative, I must say. Still, I’d thought myself so original, leaving you as I did.” He let his gaze slide slowly down her body, then just as slowly back up again. He was rewarded with a gleam in her green eyes that was only partially homicidal. “I do believe I left you with a little less modesty, though. Of course, given, well…everything, I suppose I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Oh, it was quite amusing, indeed. The poor bellman almost had heart failure when he came to collect my luggage. Gallant of you to send him, by the way.” The corners of her mouth twitched, and a real smile threatened.

And that was it. Right there. The reason Finn got himself into trouble whenever Felicity Jane was involved. She was the only woman he’d ever met who viewed the world with the same sort of detached amusement he did. The only difference—and it was a hefty one—was that his detachment came in handy in his line of work. Well, he supposed hers did, too. It was just, in his line of work, he had a vested interest in making sure the good guys won. As far as he could tell, in Felicity Jane’s world, it was only important that Felicity Jane won.

“Yes, well, I had thought, perhaps, you could use a hand.”

“I’d forgotten what a charming bastard you could be.” She did smile now, and the warmth of it reached her eyes. But he was smart enough to know that all was not forgiven. Nor would it ever be. That was the other thing he liked about prowling around Felicity Jane. She kept him on his toes. Even when she was keeping him on his back. Maybe especially then.

“I’m wounded,” he said. “I’d hoped you hadn’t forgotten a single thing about me.” He sat on the corner of the bed, by her feet. Her ankles had been bound with what looked like a man’s silk tie. He fingered the edge of the silk without touching her skin. She didn’t flinch or shift away from his touch. Not that she could have escaped him completely, but she could have made her feelings on the matter clear if she’d wanted to. He kept his gaze casually fixed on her ankles, though there was nothing remotely casual about the way his body was responding to her barely clad proximity.

Seeing her bound, even if it was with a monogrammed, designer silk tie, wasn’t helping matters much, either. He wasn’t normally into such things, but then, where the two of them were concerned, normal didn’t often come into play. If ever. Play, however…that was something they knew more than a little about. And playing with Felicity Jane was as intoxicating as it was dangerous.

He flipped the end of the tie over her toes. “I see you still have a penchant for men’s neckwear.” There was a slight roughness to his tone, one he knew damn well she would pick up on. Just as he knew she’d use every advantage she had with him. And she had more than a few.

He wished like hell that knowledge perturbed him a bit more than it did. Because, right at that very moment, he should have been interrogating her in order to figure out how best to continue tracking down the Byzantine piece.

Not entangling himself once again in Felicity Jane’s very enticing web.

As if reading his mind—and he wasn’t too certain she couldn’t; it would go a long way toward explaining her uncanny ability to keep herself one step ahead of him—she lifted her foot and lightly stroked her perfectly painted toes along the inside of his wrist.

She waited until he looked at her, then smiled and said, “I wasn’t nearly as creative with his tie as I was with yours.”

Finn’s body sprang to full attention, just as she’d wanted it to. He forced himself to hold her gaze and tried to ignore the obvious bulge in his pants, knowing she wouldn’t.

Two could play, however, and he knew right then he was definitely going to be one of them. He stroked a finger along the arch of her foot, well aware he was walking too fine a line to likely come out unscathed. And not particularly caring. It had been too long for him. Too long without putting his wants first, even for a night. And, if he was being completely honest, too long without someone like Felicity Jane.

And, as two long years of ultimately unfulfilling liaisons would attest, he’d learned that there was no one like Felicity Jane.

He trailed his fingers over the fine bones of her ankle, somewhat surprised his fingers weren’t trembling a little. After all, he’d imagined this moment more times than he cared to admit, all the while never letting himself believe it would actually come to pass. They’d tangled only twice before, both of them during a time in his life he thought of now as purgatory, his life suspended between the one he’d always thought he’d be leading and the one he was leading now. It had been a time of dealing with his past, with his family, and discovering what he truly believed in. He had always known what he didn’t want, which was a life like his father had led. One driven by greed and a hunger for more power. It had taken his father’s death to teach him what he truly did want in life.

Now he had people counting on him, people who meant the world to him. He had a business to run, and work that was more important to him than anything he’d done before. Running Trinity, Inc., with his two closest friends, using his father’s amassed wealth to help those who couldn’t otherwise win against a system that was good, but not foolproof—the very same types his father had exploited whenever possible—was easily the most personal thing he’d ever done. And the most rewarding.

He lifted his gaze to hers, wondering just what he was putting at risk here. There was the inescapable sense that now that he had everything else in order, he’d simply been waiting for her, for this moment, all along. Which, considering how their past liaisons had ended, should have sent him bolting from the room, yet kept him riveted to the bed as if he were the one shackled to it, not her.

Her eyes flashed like bright sparkling gems themselves as he continued his slow exploration. Using only his fingertips, he drew them slowly up the back of her calf, watching as her pale skin glowed a soft pink across the bridge of her nose, before tinting her cheeks. An oh-so-innocent reaction, when he knew oh-so differently. In some ways, they were too much alike. Innocent didn’t describe either of them. They’d done too much, seen too much. Just as she had to know he was already diamond hard and ready to pick up right where they left off in Prague, he knew that if he drew his fingertips along the creamy, endless length of her legs, he’d likely encounter a soaking wet strip of expensive silk stretched between them.

“A shame we can’t see our way toward working together,” she said, her voice having also taken on a rather husky edge.

“A tempting offer,” he replied, surprised she’d made it. He’d made that offer before, but she was stubbornly independent. Never willing to so much as discuss the offer, much less take him into her confidence. He wondered if the offer now was an indication of how desperate she was. And if that was why she was tolerating his touch right now. Not because she’d been wanting this moment to happen as ridiculously much as he had.

“Temptation is something we both know more than a little about,” she said in a voice filled with all the carnal knowledge she had of him, making him twitch hard inside his now snug trousers.

He had to work to keep from adjusting his position. “True,” he managed. “However, my client wouldn’t be too thrilled if I came home empty-handed. And your client—” He paused and stilled his fingers, too, then cocked his head. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t have a client.”

She held his gaze easily, her smile growing. “At least you credit me with the ability to come out the victor this go-around.”

It wasn’t lost on him that she hadn’t refuted his assessment that her motives for being involved in this little caper were purely selfish. “I credit you with thinking you can, and that makes you just as dangerous. And I still haven’t forgotten Bogota, what was it, almost three years ago now?”

“About that. And I hadn’t thought you would.” She pushed her bound feet downward, so she could dig her toes into the hard muscle of his thigh. She might as well have been pushing them between his legs for the reaction he had.

No, he hadn’t forgotten Bogota. Not one sultry second of it.

“I simply thought you’d credit your uncustomary loss that morning to bad luck. Or bad, what was it, clams, I believe?”

There were, however, parts of that ill-fated assignment he’d rather never recall. “A pretty heartless solution considering that if we hadn’t called for room service, in another hour or so you’d have likely had me so depleted I wouldn’t have cared what you took.”

“Darling,” she purred, running her toes down along his thigh, then dragging them back up again. “Nothing about you is ever depleted. I should know. At least I left you clothed.”

“I seem to recall wishing you’d left me dead. At least for the following eighteen or so hours.”

She pursed her perfectly sculpted lips into a pout, which was so out of character for her, it actually made him smile. “I’d apologize, but that would be insincere of me.”

He resisted—barely—the urge to yank her underneath him, shred the flimsy scraps of silk covering her, and bury himself so deeply inside her they’d both forget, at least for the moment, why they were really there. He had carnal knowledge, too. And he knew she’d be wet enough, tight enough, everything enough to fit him perfectly. “And I’d certainly never want anything less than complete honesty from you.”

Something flashed across her eyes then, so swiftly he’d have missed it if he hadn’t been paying close attention. And, where Felicity was involved, he always paid close attention.

“So noted,” was all she said. But she shifted her feet away from his touch then. “In the name of honesty, then, I’ll admit I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Here in the city, or here in your bedroom?”

Her lips curved slightly at that. “Both, actually, but I meant the city. Or, perhaps I should say I was surprised to discover we’re after the same quarry.”

“And why is that? I know our paths haven’t crossed of late—”

“I thought I’d read somewhere that you’d abandoned your vaunted post in the city as well as your…other travails, to start something, shall we say, a bit more legitimate. Haven’t you started some sort of charitable foundation with the inheritance from your father?”

Now it was his turn to bristle, though he tried like hell to keep from responding to her obvious tactics. “I’ve never been anything less than legitimate, as you call it. I was an assistant district attorney when we first met.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “In Bogota? Rather far afield for a city worker, isn’t it?”

“Not in Bogota. We first met here. At a charity gala event, thrown by the mayor.” He smiled, surprised. “You don’t remember that, do you?”

“When, exactly?” She immediately shook her head, and he couldn’t help but notice the way it made all those auburn curls of hers tumble about her pale, delicately defined shoulders. “Impossible. I would have remembered.”

“It was quite crowded, and our introduction was made in a rather large group. The mayor can be somewhat pompous, and he was rather enjoying showing off, if I recall, to the lovely Brit.”

“Namely because the ‘lovely Brit’ had a rather large checkbook attached to a very generous foundation that he was hoping I’d dip into for him. And I still can’t believe our paths crossed before Bogota. I’d have remembered you.”

“I can’t see why.”

She lowered her gaze, then lifted it once again, her eyes much darker now as her pupils expanded. “Let’s just say there are occasions when I want to dip into things on a more personal level. I’d have remembered you.”

He hadn’t thought he could be any harder. Where she was involved, there apparently were no limits. That shouldn’t have surprised him. After all, she lived her life the same way. “As I recall, you were otherwise engaged at the time. Unless, that is, you like to double dip.”

It was her turn to bristle. “Think what you will, but no, that isn’t something I’d ever entertain.” She looked around the room, presumably seeing the scatter of her clothing on the floor, then looked back at him. “If you’re concerned that could be the case here, let me assure you, it’s not. Appearances can be, and often are, deceiving.”

“Because you have no interest in…dipping?”

She drew her toes along his thigh again. “Because I haven’t dipped in some time. And, where you are concerned, it seems I always have an interest.” She drew her legs up before he could lay his hands on her again.

It was taking great willpower to sit and chat, as if the explosive chemistry between them wasn’t electrifying every atom and air particle in the room. “Interesting,” he said, “considering the state in which I’ve discovered you.”

“If you’re intimating that I used my wiles to that great a length as a means to get what I’m after, then I’m afraid you don’t know me at all.”

“So Bogota, Prague…”

“I’d have succeeded or failed in either case based on my own skills, thank you. I don’t use sex as a ploy. But then, I don’t have to.”

“So your involvement with me was incidental? Now I’m the one who finds that hard to believe.”

“I didn’t say that. You were critical to my success in Bogota, and an unfortunately ill-timed distraction in Prague. But sex was never part of the plan.”

“So you’d have succeeded in Bogota with or without…dipping?”

“Most assuredly.” She smiled. “One can have bad clams without great sex.”

He shuddered slightly, but nodded. “True. And Prague?”

“Most assuredly not in Prague. Had I stuck to my usual plan, I’d have walked away the victor there. It’s only because I let myself get distracted by you that I failed.”

Finn wasn’t so certain of that, but he let the comment pass. “And here? You mentioned earlier you allowed yourself to get distracted…Seems you might have a little problem with that, then.”

Now she cocked her head. “Do you know who it is you’re tracking?”

“I thought I did.” No way was he giving her a name.

“Then you know how high the stakes are. And that the playing field is a rather…challenging one.”

“If you say so.” Finn had never gone up against this particular adversary, but after even the least bit of research, he’d realized that for once, he might be getting in over his head. A little. But he’d taken the case anyway. At the time, he’d have said that he’d signed on because he was certain that he was as capable as anyone to retrieve the priceless gemstone, regardless of who else was after it. He certainly had the best platform to work from, in both financing and talent. And, frankly, if he didn’t get it back for his client, no one would. No one else had the interests of a bastard child at heart. The rest of the players were motivated only by greed. Not by doing what was right.

But now that he was here, it was impossible to deny that the entire time he’d been compiling the information he used to make such decisions, he’d wondered, given the players he’d discovered could potentially be in play on this, if Felicity would be in the game as well.

In the end, it had been an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. His partners had no idea how big a risk he was taking. For the first time, he’d been less than completely open with them regarding the details, assuring them he was on top of things as they both had their hands full with other matters. He only hoped they, not to mention his client, wouldn’t be the ones ultimately paying the price. Whatever the case, it was too late now. He was committed. And he was here. He’d have to find some way to deal with Felicity Jane, along with whoever else popped up, and see that the job got done, with him walking away the victor.

“So,” she went on, drawing lazy patterns on his thigh with her toes. “If you know who you’re up against, why aren’t you off continuing the chase rather than sitting here, chatting with me? I’ve got nothing left to offer you, I’m afraid.”

Finn abruptly clamped down on her ankles, trapping her there, keeping her toes pressed hard against his thigh. Their gazes locked, and he was gratified to see the knowledge dawn in her eyes that perhaps she was playing with fire here. The problem was she didn’t appear any more put off by the idea than he was.

He slowly drew her down the bed, until her arms were stretched over her head. The shackles locking her wrists to the wrought-iron headboard kept her in place as he smoothly rolled to straddle her thighs, releasing her legs only when the weight of his body replaced his hands in pinning her down.

She didn’t fight him, or look remotely alarmed. If anything, she looked…excited.

He levered his body over hers, tracing his hands up along her arms, over the wrist shackles, until he could weave his fingers through hers. She arched up into him, causing him to swallow a groan of satisfaction as the rigid length of him came into contact with the softest part of her. He managed to find the strength to resist the urge—like a primal directive—to drill his hips into hers.

Instead, he brought his mouth within a whisper of her lips. “I would never say you have nothing to offer.”

Her lips parted, and she moved sinuously beneath him, torturing them both. “Who said I was offering anything? You have me at quite the disadvantage.”

He released one of her hands and slid his hand to his belt. Two quick flicks of a lethal-looking little penknife later, she was free. He tossed his knife on the nightstand and immediately trapped her hands to the bed, once again weaving his fingers through hers. She didn’t take the forced intimacy passively, but curled her fingers to hold his hands just as tightly. Their gazes were once again locked. Fused, almost, it seemed. He wouldn’t have been remotely surprised to see steam fill the room, just from the look they were sharing.

“And now?” he asked.

She used the sides of his shoes to loosen the tie binding her ankles, then slipped her feet from the silk noose. An instant later, she was digging her toes into the backs of his calves as she wound her legs around his, tightening the pressure of his hips against hers.

She moved beneath him, and, this time, he was helpless not to move in response. Less than forty-eight hours on the job and he was jeopardizing everything. She was right. He had no business here, certainly none with her. And he didn’t give a flat damn. He’d waited two years for this. For her. Or maybe he’d waited his entire life.

“Now,” she said, gasping herself as he pushed against her, “now I want to know what you have to offer me.”