Читать книгу One Sizzling Night - Jo Leigh - Страница 11

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KENSEY WAITED UNTIL the lock was fully engaged before she let go of the breath she’d been holding. From the second she’d seen Logan, she’d been consumed with the thought that her towel would fall. It wasn’t tightened all that well. But she’d just stepped out of the shower and hadn’t expected him for another two hours.

She found a thick white spa robe hanging in the closet and slipped into it, and nearly squeezed herself to death tying the belt. Then she turned to look at the wall. “Call—” She stopped. Sam was busy.

They had spoken before Kensey had left New York, and the woman had explained a little about the apartment and who she’d be sharing it with. But Kensey was in no way prepared for the reality of walls changing colors and a shower that had given her more pleasure than her last three dates combined.

And she sure as hell hadn’t been prepared for Logan.

A beep sounded behind her. She turned to see a monitor on the wall with text telling her it was Sam. Kensey quickly accepted the call.

“Hi, Kensey,” Sam said, from the wall.

It was so weird to see her image right there, larger than life. “You went to Hogwarts, didn’t you?”

“I wish,” Sam said. “I’m sorry about Logan. I left him several messages, but I was too swamped with appointments to follow up. I hope he didn’t give you too much of a scare.”

“Scare? No. It was fine, although I might’ve avoided meeting him wearing only a towel.”

“I don’t know how you managed to stay so calm. I would’ve just died.” Sam’s cheeks reddened. “Of course I don’t look like you.”

“Stop it.” Kensey shook her head. “Don’t underestimate yourself. Oh, and speaking of looks, you couldn’t have warned me that Logan is hotter than hell?”

“I guess I’ve known him too long. He just looks like Logan to me. One of my college buddies. But yeah, all the girls back at MIT loved him.” Sam wrinkled her nose. “Huh. Now that I think about it, all the guys I hung out with were pretty good looking.”

“Now that you think about it?” Kensey laughed. “Did you ever look away from your computer?” But what did she know? She had no friends at all, except Neil. She’d always been so worried about guarding her past that she hadn’t exactly welcomed new people into her life.

Well, after this week, maybe she’d make some friends with her fellow inmates at Bedford Hills Correctional Facility.

“Yeah, a group of us hung out. I was the only computer geek. Logan studied political science, forensics and languages. He speaks four. Anyway, our friendship was mostly accidental but it turned out to be one of the best parts of university life for me.”

Kensey started to ask which languages, but thought better of it. She couldn’t think of Logan as anything but a temporary roommate. In fact, she couldn’t afford to think about him at all, so she changed the subject. “The body sensors you mentioned yesterday...that’s what’s causing the walls to change color, right?”

Sam nodded. “They’re heat, movement and tone sensors that can pick up if you’re having a rough night’s sleep and cue up something soothing to listen to. Or if you’re anxious, they’ll surround you in calming colors, scents and sounds,” she said patiently, though there seemed to be a lot of activity buzzing around her. “I’m sorry. This week is kind of hectic.”

“It’s fine, Sam. Really. I’ll figure things out. Thanks,” Kensey said. “For everything.”

“Listen, I want you to know if you need anything, you can reach me pretty much all the time. Even if I’m at the exhibition hall. I promise we’ll meet in person at some point.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Me, too.” Sam smiled and disappeared, leaving the wall just a wall.

Except it wasn’t just a wall—it could read her moods. It was all so crazy. She would’ve loved being here under different circumstances. And Logan with those sexy hazel eyes? Under different circumstances, she would’ve loved meeting him.

Sharing the apartment would have been much easier if he’d been unattractive. And meeting him for the first time while she was wearing only a towel? Fantastic. At least they wouldn’t have much interaction this evening. She had to get ready to crash Holstrom’s reception at the Mandarin Oriental.

Kensey flipped on the light and walked into the large closet, a nice hint of cedar rising from the floor. She hadn’t noticed the scent before. Probably because she’d hung everything as quickly as she’d grabbed and purchased the clothes a few hours ago.

She looked at the long row of clothing: dresses, skirts, blouses, pants. All of it gorgeous. And sexy. Way sexier than anything she normally wore. But then, these were costumes. More expensive than anything she’d ever owned, and integral to the character she was about to play.

She’d been worried, at first, after she’d done a bit more research about Holstrom, that she wouldn’t be able to get his attention. From what she’d read, he didn’t seem to go for tall blondes, but that wasn’t enough to dissuade her. She knew he loved being the center of attention, and, tonight, she would bring that to him in spades. Then, after he was hooked like a trout, she would vanish into the night.

And come back here to have her coronary in private.

She decided she would go with the beautiful flowing number by Donna Karan for tonight’s party. The dress was the color of turmeric and clay, strapless and tight around her chest, with an airy, semitransparent skirt that flowed past her ankles. She hoped it was enough to get her into Holstrom’s reception and catch his eye. If he proved challenging, there were a few things she could do. The simplest of which would be to drop her small clutch at his feet. Eye contact would be easy once he picked it up for her.

God, all this reminded her of her father. Wherever he was. Before he’d taken a runner, she and her father had lived the high life. They went to extravagant parties and ate at the best restaurants in New York City, Paris and Rome. The memories made her heart race—but not in an entirely good way. Believing she could get Holstrom to show her his secret collection had seemed easier two hundred miles away in Tarrytown. But it wasn’t as if she had much of a choice.

After applying a good deal more makeup than usual and slicking her hair completely off her face, she checked her new dramatic look in the mirror. She decided against wearing any jewelry. It took her a minute to believe she was staring at her own reflection, and then she was ready to go, slippery clutch in hand.

“Hey,” Logan said, as he walked down the hallway from his bedroom. “I’m going to order a pizza. Want in?”

He blinked at her. Damn, he was good looking. The way his jeans fit him, the V of a tight waist and broad shoulders. His sun-streaked brown hair was slightly damp and slicked back. She would have loved to stick around and see if he was everything Sam claimed, but she couldn’t.

“I’ve got someplace to be,” she said.

He returned the toe-to-head scan. “Wow.”

Kensey smiled. Managed to look flattered but not overly so. “Thanks. Pizza would’ve been good, though,” she said, and probably shouldn’t have. “But now, I’ve got to run.”

“Have you ordered a taxi yet?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

The way his gaze moved down her body, slowly, then lingered on where the silky fabric grazed her thighs made her want to squeeze them together. If Logan’s reaction was any indication, the dress was doing its job.

His dark brows lowered. “Did you forget—” He met her eyes, cleared his throat and looked away. “Have a good time.”

Fairly certain she knew what he’d been about to say, she tried not to laugh. The flow of the dress was very tricky. Depending on the angle, the lighting, the motion of her body, it appeared as if she might be naked underneath the translucent fabric.

He turned around and headed back toward his room, the walls on both sides turning varying shades of red as he hurried down the hallway.

* * *

THE TAXI RIDE had been good for her, a way to settle and get comfortable in her role. Logan’s reaction had helped. She knew she’d picked the perfect dress. The slight alteration she’d made to the bodice made her breasts look larger than they were. But undeniably, it was the stunning gossamer fabric and what it revealed that would help her pass the next test.

A tall beefy man in a black suit stood at the entrance to the banquet room where Holstrom was hosting his reception. Thirtysomething, with hard features, she could tell he wasn’t an ordinary rent-a-cop. A member of Holstrom’s private security team, she imagined. This might not be as easy as she’d hoped.

“Good evening. May I see your invitation, please?”

Standing tall but looking at him through her eyelashes, she pretended to check inside her small clutch. She sighed with a hint of impatience, then snapped the catch shut and dipped her finger and thumb into her bodice, between her breasts.

The man tried not to stare. But he couldn’t seem to help himself.

Her smile turned pensive, not that he’d noticed. Interesting, because he seemed a little old and seasoned to be quite so mesmerized, but she’d take it. Of course she didn’t have the invitation, but she did have a tube of lipstick, which she pulled out. “I know I didn’t leave it at the hotel,” she said. “It may have come loose but I’m sure it’s here. I’d folded it so it would fit.”

She went in for a second time.

Kensey could have sworn his body had tensed, but his expression remained unchanged.

“It’s fine, ma’am. I’m sure you’re on the list.” He gestured to the open door. “Please, go ahead.”

She smiled and walked confidently into the elegant Mandarin Oriental ballroom, grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and sipped from it as she took stock of the party she’d just crashed.

She’d wondered why Holstrom wasn’t entertaining in one of the more intimate suites. Now she understood. There had to be over a hundred people in attendance, plenty of strutting men with beautiful women close at hand. Premium champagne and chilled bottles of imported vodka were on display, as were six young women in tiny outfits who were extolling the virtues of Holstrom’s battle tanks, RPGs, submachine guns, sniper rifles and Lord knows what else.

To make it seem even more like something out of a movie, upbeat elevator music played softly in the background, and there was a ridiculous ratio of waiters to guests. The people who had been invited to this reception wouldn’t be walking the exhibit hall during the conference. And they’d definitely not be attending any sessions. She doubted that there was one guest in that room who wasn’t worth at least a billion dollars. In Holstrom’s case, it was many billions.

More than half the men were Middle Eastern and she recognized a few bigwigs from Eastern Europe. Their plus-ones were mostly American women in classy but slightly immodest clothes, although there were two women in gorgeous abayas sitting in one of the tidy group lounges.

And there he was.

Ian Holstrom, five-foot-eleven with a suspiciously rich head of dark hair, was as trim as an athlete and dressed like a king. To say he was tailored missed the mark. His suit fit him so perfectly it outshined every other Western man in the room.

At least she’d been forewarned about him. Virtually every photo of him played up his massive ego. In the flesh, he wore his superiority like a cape.

She had to nail her entrance. But playing the part of a woman who bore no resemblance to herself would be even more challenging.

Knowing that somewhere in Boston, probably in his home, there could be a treasure trove of stolen masterpieces from around the world, gave her the courage to do whatever it took to get to him. And, of course, thinking about her father being wrongly accused...

No, that didn’t help.

Pushing aside all thoughts to focus exclusively on her prey, Kensey lingered near the door, waiting for the perfect moment to make her entrance. It took a while, but she understood patience. Finally, Holstrom was at the far end of the room, and she was directly in his sight line. She pushed her shoulders back and began her walk.

The liquid silk of her dress caressed her body with fluid grace out behind her and in between her legs. Using a model’s runway strut, she thrust out her pelvis as she took extra long steps, which wasn’t easy in five-inch heels. But it worked.

A slight hush fell, and she sensed that lots of people were watching her, but all she cared about was one pair of eyes.

There. She’d done it. He hadn’t just looked, he’d stared. Looked her up and down, from head to toe with revisits to her crotch and her breasts. They were her tools tonight, and she was glad she’d kept up with her martial arts and gymnastics.

Just as she’d hoped, Holstrom walked to her those last five footsteps, abandoning the brunette at his side. “And who might you be?” he asked. His voice was half an octave too high to be truly sexy. She’d bet that killed him.

She put out her hand. “Kensington Roberts,” she said. “My friends call me Kensey.”

Being a gentleman, or a reasonable facsimile, he took her hand in his. “Tell me, Kensey, are you here with someone?”

“No. I came here tonight to meet you. To introduce myself.”

“Oh?” he said. “And why is that?”

“Because I’ve heard a lot about you. I was here at the conference, anyway, and I thought, why not?”

He smiled. Maybe because he finally realized he was still holding her hand. He let her go, but he took his time.

Jesus, what was she doing? Her father had probably done business with this son of a bitch. Sold him stolen paintings so that Holstrom could get off knowing he was the only one who could ever look at them.

“I truly am here for the conference,” she said. “Security is part of my job.”

“Are you a bodyguard?”

She laughed softly. “Not quite. I’m a curator.” Looking around as if she’d seen nothing but him before now, she gasped, subtly. “This room is amazing. I’ve heard about your parties, and I swore I would find out if the rumors were true.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Rumors?”

“That you want only the best of the best. That you never settle, or skimp. That you are incredibly discerning, especially when it comes to art and wine.”

He smiled, but his gaze had become less enchanted and more curious. “A curator? For a museum? A private collector?”

“I just left a job, so I’m currently freelancing.” She smiled shyly as she let her gaze move down his body. His suit was even more impressive up close. “I must be holding you up,” she said, slowly lifting her gaze until she met his light eyes. “I hope to see you at the conference.”

“You aren’t leaving so soon.” With a slight frown he glanced toward the entrance. “You put a lot of effort into getting into a very private party. And you’ve cost a fool his job.”

“Oh, no. Please don’t do that,” she said. “I’m quite sure he’ll never make that mistake again.”

“No, he won’t. Not in my organization. But surely you want to stay and have some vodka and caviar.” He signaled for a waiter. “The blinis and caviar are excellent.”

“Thank you.” She took a step toward the door, pleased to see men were still eyeing her. Their envious looks would play well to Holstrom’s ego. “Everything looks wonderful, but I’m meeting someone for dinner.”

He didn’t try to persuade her further but started walking with her. “In case we don’t meet at the conference, where can I reach you? Perhaps you’ll allow me to take you for drinks or to dinner. I’m assuming you’re not from Boston?”

“No, I’m not.” She took out a card with only her name and cell number, printed yesterday for this very purpose, and gave it to him.

They’d reached the door where the guard remained at his post. Kensey touched Holstrom’s arm. “Please don’t fire him, Ian,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper close to his ear. “It’s my fault and I’d feel awful.”

A slow smile curved Holstrom’s mouth. “A beautiful woman with a soft heart,” he said. “Max is one of my best men. I suppose I can overlook his lapse in judgment.”

“Thank you.” Kensey pulled her hand back but not before Holstrom gave it a light squeeze.

She thought he might be watching her head for the elevator, but she didn’t look back. She didn’t feel comfortable until she was downstairs, waiting for the doorman to flag her cab.

Once she was on her way, her thoughts went to Logan instead of reviewing what had happened with Holstrom.

She imagined Logan instead of Ian in that amazing suit, and that made her shift on her seat, and then she imagined him without the suit.

Which she had to stop doing before she fogged up all the windows.

She decided it would be foolish not to find out more about him. Despite Sam’s assurances that he was one of the good guys, Kensey didn’t know him from Adam. And considering she would be spending the next several days with him, it would be to her advantage to spend some time with him, learn whatever she could. The apartment was large, but there was always the risk of being overheard or of him finding something that raised questions.

She needed to make sure he wasn’t a threat.

And there was no law against having a nice time while she did it.