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2

“UH OH. I know that look.”

Ryder turned his leather chair from the clear view he had of the Empire State Building from the forty-fifth floor of the building his company owned. He considered his second-in-command and longtime best friend, John Coleman. “What look?”

Coleman sat back in the righthand guest chair and gave him a wry expression of his own. “That one that says you’re about to do something dangerous. Or stupid. Or both.”

Ryder grinned, not so much at his friend, but at himself. “I don’t know whether I should take offense or be amused.”

“Oh, God. You are about to do something stupid and dangerous, aren’t you?”

“When have I ever done something stupidly dangerous?”

“Oh, how about that impromptu trip to Alaska two months ago to drop from a helicopter and snowboard down some virgin mountain when we had a meeting to close the deal with Trump? Or the month before that when you disappeared so you could hike up the side of the Montserrat volcano before it was due to erupt?”

“You call that dangerous?”

“I definitely call that dangerous.”

Ryder leaned forward in his chair. “That’s because risk to you is whether or not to wear the pink tie your new wife gave you for Valentine’s Day.”

“Yes, well, someone’s got to keep their wits about them around here.”

Ryder’s mind wandered to the clock. Four-thirty.

“So what are you considering now?”

“What?”

“Isn’t there a hurricane due to hit Florida’s east coast? Are you having your surfboard waxed?”

“Nothing quite so unimaginative.”

“But you are considering something.”

Ryder picked up his pen and tapped it on his desk. “Maybe.”

It all depended on one very inscrutable Carol Lambert.

Granted, he’d been privileged to enjoy the company of a lot of women in his life. And he knew that outer wrappings often were deceiving. There was the raunchy pop star he’d gone out with who had pretended to be an exhibitionist sex kitten in public, but the minute he got her home she’d folded in on herself then passed out from the stress of having to put on such an act all night. He recalled having waited around until morning in that case, convinced the sex—when he got it—would be worth it. But it hadn’t been. One-on-one she’d been shy and hesitant, the exact opposite of the image she portrayed for everyone else.

Then there was the icy socialite he’d briefly—very briefly—considered marriage material. She headed the right charities, boasted the right pedigrees and was the perfect hostess of myriad social events. But behind closed doors she was a borderline nymphomaniac. She had nearly shredded his back with her nails and broken his eardrums with her loud and X-rated demands of what she wanted him to do to her for what had to be a record-breaking ten hours straight.

It had been the one and only time that Ryder had been more preoccupied with whether he’d survive what his sex partner might do to him than with the sex itself.

Then there was Carol Lambert.

He leaned back in his chair, ignoring his friend.

There was something about Carol. Something different. The first thing being that the hot lady who’d challenged him to race didn’t seem to fit her name, forget the person she turned into the minute she entered the front doors of Blackwell & Blackwell. He’d even consulted her employment records to try to solve the mystery, but nothing from her file had helped him to reconcile the two women with whom he was acquainted. Acquainted being the operative word.

And something he hoped to upgrade to having intimate knowledge of when she came to his office that afternoon.

“Should I call legal and make sure your insurance policies are up to date?” Coleman asked.

“What insurance policies?”

Coleman stared at him.

Ryder chuckled and got to his feet. “Go home to that pretty wife of yours, John, and stop being such a worrywart. You sound like a nagging mother.” He smacked his hand against his friend’s back on their way toward the door.

“Promise me you won’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Ryder raised a brow.

John sighed. “Okay, then. Promise you’ll be careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

“Why doesn’t that make me feel any better?”

The minute John was on his way down the hall to his own office, Ryder’s secretary approached.

“There were three calls for you while you were occupied.” She said, offered up the message slips.

“Hold on to them, Mrs. Newman. I’ve got a meeting to make.”

“Meeting?” she asked his departing back. “I have no meeting on your agenda.”

Ryder grinned at her as he turned inside the elevator then pressed the button for the floor he wanted. “It just came up.”

IT TOOK a bit of doing, but Seline managed to push everything up by twelve hours. Which meant that the minute she stepped out of her office, the con would be done and she would be free to shuck Carol Lambert’s conservative suits and identity for good.

It also meant that her personal accounts would be that much fatter, while Blackwell & Blackwell’s accounts would be that much slimmer.

And, ultimately, it meant that she could duck out before anyone would miss her. Specifically, Ryder Blackwell.

Of course, it went without saying that she also wouldn’t have an excuse to see whether or not Ryder growled in bed as satisfyingly as the engine of his car did on the road.

But that was part of the price she paid in her line of work. It came with the territory. Even if the rules she lived by didn’t already make involvement with anyone personally connected to any company she targeted off limits, it just made plain business sense to keep her attention focused on the job rather than indulging sexual fantasies that would only endanger her and the con. No matter how delicious the temptation.

And Ryder Blackwell was the epitome of delicious and temptation.

She’d been around long enough to understand that if she were lucky there would be only a handful of men she would connect with in a way that transcended your run-of-the-mill attraction. And she’d felt that connection strongly with Ryder upon realizing who he was when he’d blocked her access to the garage. Within a nanosecond, his gaze had communicated an understanding, an awareness, to her that sometimes years with another person couldn’t accomplish. An “I see you” gaze that left her feeling…no, knowing that he had seen her. Not the details. Not what her favorite color was or what she was up to. But, rather, more fundamental elements. Almost as if the past, present and future had melted together to become immaterial in light of their meeting, their connection.

Oh, well. While it was certainly the first time she’d had such an experience with a mark, she had the feeling it likely wouldn’t be the last. And, probably sooner than she currently believed, she’d forget all about his electric-blue eyes and dimpled cheek and the surge of her blood every time she’d thought about him that afternoon, and use the money she’d stolen from him to further more important plans.

She stuffed the last of the items that could be connected to her inside the cavernous depths of her Louis Vuitton bag and wiped her prints from the drawer she’d closed.

“Going somewhere?”

Seline froze at the sound of Ryder’s voice. Somewhere in the back of her mind she gave herself a pat on the back for not having jumped. Even if his sudden presence was definitely of the jump variety.

Not that she hadn’t half expected him to show up at her office, despite his request through official channels to see her in his. Mostly because of that connection she’d shared with him. She’d instantly sensed that—not unlike herself—he was someone used to getting what he wanted. And he wanted her.

Her. The woman in the car who’d challenged him to a race. Not Carol Lambert. Although she had to remind herself that he didn’t know there was difference. A vast and damaging difference.

It had been that knowing that had prompted her to finish up her business and get out of here posthaste.

Unfortunately, she’d been two minutes too late.

Seline turned her chair to face him in the doorway, giving him her best Carol Lambert tucked-chin smile. “Hello, Mr. Blackwell. I was just getting ready to come up to see you.”

“Why do I get the impression you were getting ready to leave instead?”

She tried to act surprised, but she made the mistake of meeting his stimulating gaze. And the challenge there left her incapable of ignoring the desire to rise to it.

So he thought he could handle her, did he? Thought he knew who she was and by extension thought himself up to the task of tussling with her without consequence?

She found herself smiling.

She had two weaknesses. One was for a good, clean, risky con; the other was proving to a powerful bachelor like Ryder Blackwell how powerless he truly was when it came to a woman like her.

And while she should pass on this one, she found she didn’t want to.

All cons came with their risks. And so far this one had run like clockwork. Boringly like clockwork. Maybe a tryst with Ryder was just what was needed to spice it up a little bit.

“Was there something you needed to discuss with me?” she asked, getting up from her desk and coming to stand in front of him.

She watched him watch her approach. His black pupils dilated slightly as his gaze dropped first to her baggy blouse as if searching for the lacy bra underneath, then to her legs, which she knew were killer even in the low-heeled, unappealing shoes she wore.

Seline leaned forward, brushing her breasts against his chest. She had to give him credit for standing still, not giving away with a blink or an intake of breath that her actions surprised him. She picked up a file on the side table behind him, then broke contact as she put it into her bag.

“There are several things I’d like to discuss with you, Ms. Lambert.”

She put her bag on the table then reached for her suit jacket hanging on the back of the door. He took it from her and she easily turned so he could help her into it. If his movements were a little more languid than the occasion called for, if his fingers lingered a little too long at the collar, against the burning skin of her neck, she wasn’t going to let him see her reaction. Even though she sensed that he knew. Just as she knew that he wanted to touch her in far more intimate ways.

“I only have a few minutes,” she said, turning back to face him. “I have a meeting to get to.”

His gaze swept up from her neck over her chin to her lips. “Cancel it.”

She smiled in a way designed to transmit that he’d just tipped his hand. “Surely whatever is on your mind can wait until morning?”

Until she was long gone and he would begin the process of discovering exactly what she’d been doing while she’d been there. And that it had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with money.

“Actually, it can’t. Have dinner with me.”

She picked up her bag and edged the handle up to rest over her shoulder. “Dinner? Sounds personal. Doesn’t that violate the company’s no-fraternization rule?”

The right side of his mouth budged upward, revealing the single dimple that made her tongue tingle with the desire to taste it. “I’ll put it on my agenda to change that rule first thing in the morning. One of the benefits of being the boss.”

Seline couldn’t resist leaning closer to him. The new proximity filled her senses with a scent of lime that made her mouth water further. She dropped her voice to a provocative whisper. “Yes, but that still leaves the rule in effect for tonight. And seeing as I’m a new employee, I wouldn’t want to do anything to endanger my position. You know, like having sex with the boss.”

“Who said anything about sex?”

She tilted her head so that she was looking into his eyes. “You did. And do. Every time you look at me.”

“Astute woman.”

“Shameless man.”

His chuckle sent a shiver skidding over her hypersensitive nerve endings. It had been a long, long time since mere conversation with a man had made her wet. But if the dampness between her thighs was anything to go by, Ryder had accomplished exactly that.

“Look, Mr. Blackwell—”

“Ryder.”

“No matter what guarantees you make, the truth is that sleeping with the boss is never a good idea. Chances are you’ll come in tomorrow morning having regretted our…intimacy.” She watched as he swallowed thickly. “And then where would I be? Aside from sharing the title of one-night stand with no doubt countless other women in the company?”

“I don’t sleep with employees.”

“But isn’t that what you’re proposing now?”

His grin widened. “No. I’m offering dinner.”

Seline shivered again and clamped her thighs tightly together, reveling in the luscious sensations rolling through her. “Nothing more?”

“Let’s just say that the rest…well, I’ll be offering. It’s up to you whether or not you take me up on it.”

She blinked slowly then smiled. “Your car or mine?”