Читать книгу High Society Sabotage - Kathleen Long - Страница 8

Kyle handled the bike effortlessly, as if he spent much of his time roaming the vast mountain roads outside of Denver. Sara smiled to herself as she followed his lead, leaning into the curve as they rounded a bend.

From what she knew about Kyle Prescott, his days were supposed to be spent running the international rights division of TCM, but rumor had it he practiced a more absent management style. He rarely showed up at the office, and when he did, he remained isolated in his office. Nothing more.

That particular description of him didn’t jibe with the outgoing, charming man she’d met tonight. One of the personas was an act. All she had to do was figure out which one it was.

Sara tightened her grip around Kyle’s waist, pressing her body tightly against his back. What the heck. If she were going to play the role of a blinded-by-money-and-charm Kyle Prescott groupie, she might as well go all out.

She let her mind wander momentarily, taking in the breathtaking scenery illuminated by the full moon. Majestic slabs of red rock gave way to deep valleys dropping far below the roadside. Summer wildflowers smattered the mountainside with what would surely be vivid splashes of color in the light of day.

For the slightest moment she wanted to tell Kyle to stop—wanted to take just a minute out of the investigation to enjoy the beauty before her.

How long had it been since she’d been up here?

Too long.

She and her sister used to sneak up this road all the time once Annemarie had gotten her license, but Sara had devoted the years since Annemarie’s death to taking down criminals, not sightseeing.

She’d loved her time in the FBI, but being part of the Prescott Personal Securities team was a dream come true. Her undercover assignment to investigate the media conglomerate TCM was something she could sink her teeth into, and her first chance to truly shine as part of PPS.

She could only hope Annemarie would be proud. Sara might not have been able to solve her sister’s murder, but she’d solved others. She’d eased other families’ pain. Try as she might to content herself with that fact, it somehow was never enough.

Kyle eased the bike to the side of the road, snapping Sara’s focus back to the man—and the case—at hand. He cut the bike’s engine, climbed off the massive machine then helped Sara down from the back of the seat, no easy feat in her heels and dress.

When he kept her fingers tightly in his grip, she resisted the urge to pull them free, instead playing the part of the smitten female.

She followed him to the lookout’s edge, gazing down into a valley of jagged rock, stands of evergreens and lush green rolling hillsides. If she weren’t mistaken, the Turner ranch lay in the distance. She could just make out the shape of the buildings and the well-lit grounds.

“Isn’t that—?”

“Sure is,” Kyle answered before she finished her sentence.

He dropped her hand, leaving her fingers oddly cool where his had been. Sara shook off the unwanted sensation, silently reminding herself not to be pulled under by the man’s obviously practiced charm.

When he stepped behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, she fought the urge to toss him over one shoulder and onto his back. Her automatic self-defense response screamed at her to make the move, but her undercover role demanded she stay put.

“Look at this land.” His breath brushed past her ear and a shiver of awareness traced its way across Sara’s shoulders. “This is my favorite place to visit.”

And probably with a different female each time, Sara thought.

“Gorgeous,” she answered. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to develop an inch of these hills.”

“Well, within limits, some development can actually add to the local tax base.”

His quick response took her by surprise, not at all what she’d expected.

“Matter of fact,” he continued, “some might look at it as a win-win. Additional housing, additional tax dollars, some pocket change for the developer, and you just never know. There might be oil in those hills.”

Oil.

Land held by at least three of the dead investors’ companies was known oil land. Maybe Kyle Prescott represented even more than the perfect means to infiltrate TCM. Maybe he also represented the perfect means to infiltrate the investing scheme.

Sara spun on him, seizing the opportunity to push for information. “You can’t be serious.”

His vivid gaze widened with evident surprise. Apparently Kyle Prescott wasn’t used to receiving criticism from his romantic conquests.

He frowned slightly. “I’m completely serious.”

Sara gestured to the expanse below them. “You actually think losing a portion of this land is a good thing?”

He narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Progress is progress, babe.”

Babe.

She spun back toward the view before he could spot the hot color firing in her cheeks. All it would take would be one swift kick to send the man flying off the cliff and into the valley he was apparently so anxious to see developed.

TCM, Sara reminded herself. Stay focused on TCM.

But she couldn’t quite ignore Kyle Prescott’s know-it-all arrogance. She waited until her face cooled, then shifted her gaze back in his direction. He stood staring past her, at the Turner ranch, if she weren’t mistaken.

“What about land preservation?” she asked.

His focus snapped from the view to her face. “What about it?”

The intensity of his focus rattled her ever so slightly. She didn’t like the sensation—didn’t like it at all. She forced her thoughts back to their conversation.

If she could keep him talking about land and oil, he might let some useful information slip into their conversation.

“I’d think you’d be more concerned about international deals than about land acquisitions.” She gave an innocent shrug, working to maintain an air of innocence. “Isn’t that your area of expertise?”

He studied her for a long moment then leaned close. “Is there a reason you’re so concerned about the land, Ms. Montgomery? I assure you I have far more interesting areas of expertise.”

Sara arched one brow. “Can’t a girl care about her environment?”

A sly grin slid across Kyle’s lips. “Sweetheart, you can care about whatever you want.”

The man’s arrogant tone sent anger flicking to life in Sara’s gut. Heat rose from her neck to her face. This time, she made no move to hide her reaction.

“I’m always amazed when a man of your obvious wealth and social status won’t use that power for good.”

“When good playboys go bad.” He leaned even closer. Too close.

Sara held her ground, squinting at him. Their conversation was getting her nowhere. He had yet to give her a straight answer. The man was hiding something, and she had every intention of finding out what.

“Mr. Prescott—”

“I could have sworn I told you to call me Kyle.”

He made his move quickly, as if he’d made it countless times before, leaning into Sara and cupping her face in the palm of one hand.

When he closed his mouth over hers, she opened her lips to protest, only to find his lips matching her moves, his tongue tangling with hers, exploring, tasting.

Traitorous heat ignited deep inside her and Sara wound her hands around his neck and into his slightly too long hair, noting the silky texture and wondering how much money he spent on salon treatments.

When he splayed his palms fully on the small of her back and pulled her body tight against his, her only thought was of how good he felt.

The hard expanse of his chest.

The warmth of his body against hers.

His obvious arousal pressed against her stomach.

Sara blinked herself back into reality before she lost control of the situation, breaking away from his kiss and pushing him out to arm’s length.

Kyle didn’t release his grip, however. Instead he gave her waist a squeeze and turned on his megawatt smile.

Sara had to admit he was good. Very good.

She could see why woman after woman fell for him, only to be discarded when he’d grown bored or received a more enticing offer.

Well, if she’d learned one thing over the years it was that the more you pushed a guy like Kyle away, the more he’d come begging. She decided then and there on her plan of attack. As much as she hated playing games, a round of hard-to-get seemed to be in order.

She drew in a dramatic breath and splayed her hand across her neck. “I think it best we get back to the ranch.”

Without saying a word, Kyle let his gaze drift from her mouth, to her hand, over the swell of her breasts, along the lines of her skirt, down the length of her legs, then slowly back up until he met her eyes.

The seconds passed in slow motion, each moment pure torture as her body heated beneath his gaze.

She swallowed just before his eyes met hers.

“You’d better wear this.” He shrugged out of his tux jacket then draped it around her shoulders. “You wouldn’t want to catch a chill.”

Oh, he was good.

But she could be even better.

KYLE MENTALLY BERATED himself as he maneuvered the bike along the mountain road down from the lookout. When he got a bit too close to the shoulder, he tried to snap himself back into focus by shoving Sara Montgomery out of his head, but it didn’t work.

The heat of her arms pressed around his body and the memory of their kiss lingered on his lips. He’d kissed a lot of women in his day, no doubt about it, but no kiss had ever been quite like this one. It wasn’t that her pulling away had made it different. She had made it different. Plain and simple.

Sara Montgomery ignited a sensation inside him that had never been ignited. She intrigued him. Genuinely intrigued him.

She shifted against him as he pulled into a straight patch of road. Her soft curves pressed into his back, and if he didn’t know better, he’d swear the woman was trying to torture him.

His body remained in a heightened state of awareness even now, at least fifteen minutes since their kiss.

He ran their discussion through his head for the umpteenth time. The truth of the matter was he agreed with everything she said.

He hated to see the sprawl that crept into the land at the base of the mountains. If he had his way, no one would ever be able to develop here again.

Kyle couldn’t quite put his finger on why he’d lied in order to get Sara’s response. Maybe he’d done it to get a rise out of her, or to measure her response.

He’d been pleasantly surprised when she hadn’t agreed with him, as most of the upper crust in the region would have.

Land equaled power in these parts and oil was the Holy Grail. The more land you owned, the better chance you had of striking it rich. He should know. He’d watched several local power brokers find success after success in recent months with lucky land buyouts.

The voice mail he’d received planted itself front and center on his radar screen again. Was that what the man had been referring to? Had he been accusing Kyle of taking part in some sort of investment scheme? If so, the man couldn’t be further off base.

Kyle hadn’t taken part, out of his love for the area’s wilderness, but he had to admit the money was enough to tempt many an environmentalist to the dark side. He, however, wasn’t one of them.

He shouldn’t have let Sara go on as he did without telling her the truth, but it had been a pleasure to see her passion when she spoke, her determination when she explained her stance.

The woman was refreshing, a treat he intended to sample fully when she offered. And she would in time. They always did.

If she thought the hard-to-get act was original, she needed to think again. That particular tactic was tired as well as ineffectual, at least where Kyle was concerned.

He’d been surprised she hadn’t broken away from their kiss more quickly, but the biggest question bouncing around his brain was why she’d agreed to the ride in the first place.

The action didn’t match the coolness she’d otherwise shown. He wondered what she was after. His money? His connections? History showed it would be one or the other. It always was.

Before he could give the topic another thought, Sara leaned forward and tried to yell something to him. The noise of the bike’s engine and the thickness of the helmet he wore muffled her voice.

He shook his head to let her know he hadn’t made out a word she’d said. He dropped a look to his rearview mirror just as she extricated one arm from around his waist and leaned forward, jerking her thumb toward the road behind them.

Kyle knew what she was referring to as soon as she made the gesture. He was already studying the approaching headlights in the mirror.

The vehicle appeared to be an SUV. Dark. Sleek. Heavily tinted windows.

Not your average drive-in-the-mountains fare.

The SUV moved dangerously close to the rear tire of the bike and Kyle accelerated, adrenaline surging to life inside him.

Was the guy behind him nuts? Or was he challenging him to a little road race?

The SUV pulled into the oncoming lane as they approached the next hairpin turn.

What in the—?

Kyle maneuvered away from the too-close black vehicle, yet still maintained control of the bike.

“Hold on,” he yelled into the mountain air, knowing Sara most likely couldn’t hear a thing.

Her arms tightened around his waist, bolstering his resolve to get them away from the maniac in the SUV.

They cleared the curve, but the SUV swerved toward them in the straightaway, pushing Kyle and Sara dangerously close to the edge of the cliff.

Kyle gritted his teeth, determined not to lose control. His father had been killed in an accident and Kyle had no intention of carrying on the family tradition.

The next hairpin turn approached. Kyle knew they wouldn’t make it. They’d have to ditch, but how would he be able to warn Sara?

The SUV swung toward them, brushing mere inches from their legs. Sara screamed something, but Kyle couldn’t make it out.

Damn it. It would be bad enough if he were alone on the bike, but with Sara on the back, he was responsible for saving not just himself, but also the beautiful stranger.

The SUV swerved again, and the front tire of the motorcycle nipped into the rocks and dirt along the edge of the cliff. They faltered, and the bike bobbled from side to side.

The SUV accelerated out around the next curve and out of sight, as if the driver knew what was about to happen, knew he’d succeeded in his dangerous game.

Kyle did his best to slow the motorcycle without losing complete control, but it was too late.

The tires went out from under the bike and they were sliding, dirt and gravel flying, obscuring his view. They slid, and pain exploded through Kyle as the weight of the bike did its damage. Sara’s arms suddenly were no longer around his waist and fear ripped through him.

Had she gone over the cliff? Had she been injured—or worse—because of him?

That was the question haunting Kyle as the mountain fell away beneath him and he and his Harley went over the edge.