Читать книгу Wicked Pleasure - Taryn Taylor Leigh - Страница 10

AJ TOOK A showy swallow of her drink as she pulled her feet off his desk. She hated to gulp down the expensive stuff, but she needed to move her glass into her left hand, and giving him the impression she was a little tipsy might help sell the next part of her plan.

“Neat trick.” AJ tipped her chin in the direction of his bourbon. “Tell me, does everyone come when you call?” she asked, the words low and suggestive as she grabbed her purse in her right hand and got to her feet.

The key to a believable stumble was to commit, trust your mark to catch you, and then keep the response understated. No overwrought flailing or ridiculous exclamations. Even a layman could see the hammy stuff from a mile away.

With a credible slip, AJ widened her eyes—little details were important—bringing her purse hand up and bracing it against Liam’s chest in an attempt to catch herself. A quick twist of her wrist ensured the satin lined up right about where that interior suit pocket that housed his phone should be.

The remainder of her drink sloshed perilously close to the rim of the glass before she fully regained her balance. As far as misdirection went, it was a nice touch, even if she did say so herself. And she knew it had worked by the way Liam’s palm had landed on her hip to steady her as he turned his attention from her glass back to her face.

He let his gaze wander down to her mouth and back up. The low hum of arousal between them intensified. “As a rule, they call after I make them come.”

Her knees went soft, and his hand tightened on her hip.

“You okay?”

Was she okay? Sure, if you ignored the part where she’d spent the last four days figuring out how to break into this man’s bedroom without being detected, and now all she could think about was how much she wanted to take him up on the implied invitation to join him there.

Goddamn, she needed to get laid. Usually, when the itch got bad enough, she went out and took what she needed. No fuss, no commitment. But if she was being honest, no one had lit her up for a while.

Not like this.

“Guess the bourbon’s hitting a little harder than I thought.”

It was a lie, of course. She wasn’t drunk. You couldn’t run a job if you weren’t 100 percent in control of all your faculties. And yeah, matching wits with a worthy adversary always revved her up a bit, but this...this hormonal glitch was another level altogether.

“Perhaps a little fresh air would help.” He took his hand off her hip, reaching beneath the lip of the desk, and the twin sounds of music and laughter rushed into the room.

AJ glanced over her shoulder to watch as the window closest to them retracted into the wall, granting them access to a wrought iron terrace.

When she turned back, he seemed closer than he had a moment ago.

God, he smelled good. Warm and sexy. Expensive. Eau de Rich Guy.

Yeah, distance sounded like the smart plan right now.

“Perhaps it would.” She meant it to sound mocking—who the fuck said perhaps anymore?—but it came out a little breathless.

She pulled her purse back from his chest, tucking it securely under her arm as she straightened. That should have been plenty of time for the malware to install, she figured, turning and stepping through the space where the window used to be, taking a bracing sip of her drink as the warmth of the night surrounded her.

“Some party.”

He glanced around the glittering mass of guests amid the fountains and twinkle lights, chatting and laughing while they flitted around. Seeing. Being seen. “You don’t like it?”

“Not really my scene.” Pomp and circumstance made her itchy.

“Really?” Liam ran a hand over his jaw. “I thought all women loved a reason to dress up and drink a man’s bourbon.”

Cynical words. AJ’s brows lifted as she realized for the first time that he was a little itchy, too. “Huh.”

“Huh, what?”

AJ turned to face him, leaning a hip against the balustrade. “Just drinking in the astounding realization that the tech world’s most infamous international party boy hates his own parties.”

He shot her a what-are-you-talking-about look and he lifted his drink. The muscles in his throat worked as he swallowed. “What makes you say that?”

“Besides the fact that you’re up here talking to me instead of mingling? I’m good at reading people. And I have a doctorate in the nuances of cynicism. You just bypassed world-weary and jumped straight to jaded.”

He considered that for a moment. “Some might argue that talking to a beautiful woman is well within the definition of mingling.”

“You’ve purposefully ignored three flirtatious waves and the arrival of a senator.”

“Impressive. I could use you on my security team.” Liam blew out a breath, and AJ didn’t miss that his gaze went directly to said senator, who was holding court next to one of the tiered fountains that dotted his property.

“So is that what you think of me?” Liam asked. “Jaded international party boy?”

She didn’t buy the casual spin he put on it. It sounded like a real question, and she let her femme fatale act slip for a minute. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to think?”

The world went still for a second, as though the brief flash of understanding that passed between them in that moment had been captured, a photograph in time. Then AJ blinked, and real life resumed.

“I’ve always found it a tactical advantage, the ability to disappear into the stereotype.” Liam’s gaze turned pointed. “Much easier to get what you want when people underestimate you, don’t you think?”

Danger prickled along AJ’s spine, and for the second time that night, she had to actively loosen her muscles. Rhetorical question. He didn’t know anything. First rule of surviving on the street—if you act guilty, you get caught. She might not pick pockets anymore, but she’d do well to remember the lesson. “You don’t seem like a man who has too much trouble getting what he wants.”

“Not usually.” He eyed her attentively. “But I guess we’ll find out.”

That trickle of lust she’d been fighting since he’d walked into his office upgraded itself to a gush, but before she did something monumentally stupid, his phone vibrated, and they both dropped their gazes to his chest.

“Aren’t you going to get that?”

Liam shook his head, and AJ tipped hers to the side, studying him. “I’ve never known a titan of industry to ignore the siren song of a phone call.”

“Do you know many? Titans?”

“A few.”

His phone vibrated again. AJ stepped closer, reached toward him, and when he made no move to stop her, she slipped her hand inside his suit and pulled out his phone.

“Dom,” she announced, reading the contact info on the display. “As in dominatrix? Are you late for a bit of the whip and tickle?” The phone continued to buzz insistently against her palm. “You must be a good customer. She seems eager for contact.”

“Dom as in Dominic. Business acquaintance. He could probably pull off the leather, but judging by his golf game, I doubt his mastery with the riding crop. He’s not very athletic.”

“Well, color me disappointed.” With a twist of her wrist, she held the phone out to him, screen up. “Might be important.”

Liam took the phone and tucked it back in his suit without so much as glancing at it. “Work has a tendency to consume you if you let it.”

AJ turned back to the balcony, leaning her forearms against the railing. She liked it when work consumed her. Kept that bad shit from creeping into her brain. “You don’t let it?”

“As I believe we already established, I live to party.”

She laughed at that. “You’re so full of shit.”

She felt his eyes on her profile, the burn of their focus. Barroom talk was out of place at a cocktail party. She probably shouldn’t have said that.

“You see?” he asked, his voice deliciously husky. “I told you.”

The tease worked, and she gave in to temptation, looked over at him. He had a tiny jagged scar on his chin. “What?”

His gaze roamed her face in the dim light. “I’d remember you.”

Something in his eyes, so dark, ran through her like an electrical current. Her laugh sounded fake, even to her own ears. “Sure you would. Just like you remember everyone else at this shindig?”

Liam flickered a surveying glance at the grounds, teeming with people. His easy shrug of confirmation sharpened her focus.

“There’s got to be two hundred people here.” Two hundred and twelve, according to her research. All required to RSVP for the code that would grant them access tonight. And another thirteen who’d politely declined, which had essentially nuked their bar codes so they’d been of no use to her. This had been a tough party to crash.

“Give or take,” he said, with a sip of bourbon.

She turned toward the terrace railing and rested her elbows on it, staring down at the busy garden below. There were people milling about, but her eyes snagged on a mismatched couple almost directly beneath her, illuminated by the fancy lights strung all over the grounds.

“Who’re those two?” she asked, with a head tip at a stout, balding man who’d cornered one of the waitstaff so he could raid the shrimp platter while the gorgeous woman on his arm guzzled champagne with alacrity.

Liam turned to see her pick, and the sleeve of his jacket brushed her upper arm, unleashing a wave of goose bumps across her skin. “Phillip Henderson and his much younger wife, Tara Billings-Henderson.”

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You could be saying any names. How would I know if you’re full of shit or not?”

He leaned forward on the railing and raised his voice a little. “Phillip. Tara. So glad you could make it tonight.”

The mismatched twosome lifted their heads like a couple of well-trained Labradors at the sound of their names, eager for their host’s attention.

“Wouldn’t miss it!” boomed the bald guy, yelling much louder than necessary and affording AJ a full view of all his teeth and his mouthful of masticated shrimp. “You always throw the best parties!”

The blonde dropped her husband’s arm like she’d been burned, executed a shampoo-commercial-worthy hair shake and waggled her fingers. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you all night. Save me a dance?”

In a nonanswer, he raised his glass to them, took a sip of bourbon and turned his whole body to face AJ.

“Super classy guest list,” she complimented, hoping the irony didn’t make her sound petty. At least they were on the guest list.

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.

The sexy pulse of the base-heavy track the pool-deck DJ was spinning spilled through the night, making her want to dance like she did in the club. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and sway with him while his hands rode the small of her back, the curve of her ass, pulling her close so she could grind her hips against his while he kissed her neck...

Shit.

She was in big trouble, and the look on his face did nothing but confirm it.

“I’m Liam.”

AJ almost laughed. “Oh, I know.”

“Then it appears you have me at a disadvantage.”

Her hand tightened on her glass at the accuracy of his statement. But it wouldn’t be true for much longer if she didn’t get her shit together. She wasn’t here for his animal magnetism, she was here for his tech.

The reminder gave her the strength to shoot him a cool smile. “Not a position you’re used to, I’m sure.”

He stepped closer. It was disconcerting, the way his broad shoulders blocked out the view of anything but him.

“On the contrary, I pride myself on being familiar with a wide array of positions.”

AJ swallowed, ignoring the urge to mess him up a bit, rake her hands through his hair, tug his tie askew, get him a little bit naked. “You’re handsomer than I expected.” The thought slipped past her lips and raised his eyebrows.

“That didn’t sound like a compliment.”

She gave him a once-over and shrugged. “Kind of cliché is all. I mean, hella smart, stupid rich and disgustingly handsome? It’s a little much. Most people settle for two out of three.”

His gaze roamed her face. “I don’t believe in settling.” His voice was low and intimate and vibrated at the perfect frequency to tighten her nipples. “Tell me your name.”

“A—Robin.” She remembered her alias at the last second. Damn. Maybe that bourbon had affected her a little. She’d been this close to saying AJ. That would have been a rookie mistake, giving him her real name. Well, real enough, anyway.

“Robin,” he repeated, leaning forward. Or was she leaning forward?

Either way, their breaths mingled, and her breasts ached for his touch, and being horizontal sounded like a way better idea than being vertical because being vertical was highly overrated as a state of being anyway.

It would just figure that the only man to light her up, to really light her up, in the last four years would be the one man who was completely off-limits to her. A mark. Nothing more.

GD sex hormones. This was no time to be all hopped up on dopamine and serotonin and Liam Kearney’s mouth.

“Liam! Hey! Awesome party!”

The intrusion was perfectly timed, and AJ took a step back from temptation and sent a cursory glance at the bikini-clad girls beckoning from the lawn below them.

“Why are you hiding up there? Meet us in the pool!”

“Yeah. Come get wet with us!”

When AJ looked back at Liam, his gaze was still locked on her, and she ignored the zing of heat in her belly.

“It seems I’ve monopolized you for far too long. Your fan club is getting restless.” The rueful note in her voice wasn’t fully for show. “But it was nice to meet the man behind the legend. Thanks for giving me a reason to dress up and drink your bourbon.” She swallowed the final mouthful and pressed her empty glass into his left hand, ignoring the spike in her pulse when her fingers brushed his. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go freshen up.”

“It was nice meeting you, too.” A noticeable beat slipped by before he added, “Robin.”

Something about that pause made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Liam raised his hand, gesturing toward the house with her glass. “You’re looking for the first door on the left at the top of the stairs.”

The directions startled her. “What?”

“The bathroom,” he clarified, his voice easy though his gaze remained sharp. “You wanted to freshen up. That’s what you said, right?”

AJ’s smile was deliberately casual. “Yes. That’s exactly where I’m headed. Thank you.” She knew that, of course. She knew every inch of his sprawling estate, thanks to the blueprints she’d nicked from the city’s website.

Not that she couldn’t have gotten them through regular channels...but why wait for the mind-numbingly slow wheels of bureaucracy to turn when you could just make the internet your bitch? Instead of filling out forms and weeks of waiting, she already knew where the bathroom was, and where his bedroom was, and where the panic room in the back of his bedroom closet that he’d reconfigured into a server room was.

“It’s been entirely my pleasure, I assure you.”

Thanks to emphasis, what might have been a bland pleasantry from anyone else held some heat. Enough to make AJ wish their night could have ended differently.

Ignoring all her good sense, she tightened her grip on her purse and stepped close enough that her breasts pressed against his chest. “Well, if this is your idea of pleasure, it’s probably good we stopped now.” AJ leaned in, then leaned in a little more, until her lips brushed his ear. “My definition might have killed you.”

She pulled back in time to see Liam’s mouth tip up at the corner. “It sounds like it would have been a hell of a way to go.”

God, it had been forever since she’d felt this...alive. Maybe a little walk on the wild side was exactly what she’d needed. “Oh, it would have been. I assure you.”

And with that, she left Liam on the balcony and headed into the house.

Playtime was over. She had work to do.