The Honey Trap. Mary Baker Jayne

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СКАЧАТЬ trip, so I’m a bit spaced out. Jet lag, you know? Sorry. I’m not very good company this evening.’

      Okay, strike two. Angel took another mouthful of her drink, the alcoholic tang of the gin blunted by the fast-melting ice. A pleasant fuzz had started to fill her brain and she relaxed a little into the role of seductress extraordinaire.

      Leg man, was it? Right. Time to bring out the big guns.

      She shifted a little on her stool to face him and crossed her legs languorously, showing off their full, silken length as she did so and just barely brushing his shin with the tip of a leopard-print stiletto. She saw him give a slight jerk as he felt her touch.

      Ha! It was working! She must be better at this seduction business than she thought…

      ‘Well, I’m enjoying your company all the same,’ she heard herself say in a provocative purr, looking at him from under lowered lashes.

      She leant towards him, put out her hand and rested her fingertips on his wrist with a light touch, a thrill slamming through her when she felt the throb of his quickened pulse and the warmth of flesh on flesh. At least there was no band of gold on the third finger to provoke any pangs of conscience. Was he old-fashioned, she wondered, or did he just prefer not to advertise the fact he was married?

      ‘Listen, I really was supposed to be meeting a date here, but it looks like I’ve been stood up. Would you like to… I mean, do you have any plans for tonight? Here I am all dressed up with no place to go and I’d rather not be alone. Maybe we could grab coffee somewhere and, um, I could waffle on at you a bit more.’

      For a split second he hesitated before shaking his head. ‘Sorry, it’s a bit late for me. Still on Kiwi hours. Maybe some other time, though.’ Sliding his arm from under her fingers, he drained the dregs of his Scotch and set the tumbler back on the bar, fished in his jacket pocket for his wallet.

      Okay, that was strike three. All out.

      She couldn’t understand why he was resisting. It was obvious from the way his eyes flickered with interest over her body that he liked what he saw. Even Brad the barman seemed to have noticed him checking her out. Angel could see the man smirking while he polished a shot glass, watching the pair from under veiled lids.

      And yet here was Seb turning down an offer of coffee so he could catch an early night. Was the thought of his wife Carole, the porcelain-blonde screen goddess, holding him back? He must know ‘coffee’ was an internationally recognised euphemism for – well, any normal man would have been tearing her clothes off on one of the Hotel D’Azur’s king-sized beds by now.

      At her elbow she saw Seb rise and hand Brad a wad of notes to settle his account, telling the barman, to his obvious approval, that he could keep the change.

       Last chance, Angel. Stall him. Cue the emergency backup plan.

      Reaching for her drink, she knocked her bag to the floor with deliberate carelessness. Credit cards, lipstick, coins, hairclips and other detritus spilled out drunkenly around Seb’s feet.

      ‘Shit, I’m so sorry! What an idiot.’

      ‘Here, let me get it.’ Kneeling down, he started reclaiming her possessions from the deep-pile Persian carpet, shovelling them back into the bag’s satin-lined maw haphazardly.

      She could see the top of his curly head at her feet, shining burnished bronze in the mellow lamplight of the bar. Unruly locks whispered soft against her calves and she felt his breath, hot and heavy, on her ankles.

      Oh God, who was seducing who here? Muscles she barely knew existed spasmed as a surging heat throbbed through her, beginning at the point where his curls unwittingly met her bare flesh.

      Angel bit down hard on her lower lip to stifle a telltale gasp, surprised by her body’s reaction to his touch. Squirming on her barstool, she moved her legs away from the kiss of the torturing, teasing strands.

      She stared fixedly at a mirrored panel behind the bar. It shot her own flushed face, parted lips and wide, glazed eyes back to her as she struggled to regain control, to banish the too-vivid image that had risen unbidden of gazing down at Seb’s tousled chestnut hair, running her fingers through those curls while he nuzzled her from ankle to thigh, flicked his tongue across the naked, yielding flesh between her legs until he reached the flimsy film of her underwear, slid his hand upwards to delve into the wetness beneath, the wetness she could feel rising now just thinking about his touch as desire shot through her nerves and hit her square between the thighs…

      Jesus, where had it sprung from, this raw, unexpected need for another human being? It had been a long time now since she’d been with anyone: two years since she’d broken up with Leo. And she wasn’t in the habit of having one-night stands – had never had one, in fact, even in her carefree student days. Yes, that must be it. It had been too long, and now her treacherous body was rebelling, trying to convince her she wanted to do things she knew she shouldn’t.

      Steve had made it clear she only needed to get Seb in a compromising position for the cameras and then it was job done as far as his story was concerned. Once the filmmaker had been papped with his trousers down she was free to make her excuses and leave before it went any further. But there was something else guiding her now – a deep, primal urgency, different from anything she’d experienced before.

      Suppose she went through with it. Suppose she couldn’t stop herself. Got the pictures, covered the camera and then just… let herself be with him. Could she do that? A complete stranger… a married complete stranger?

      Although, of course, she’d have to get him there first.

      She gave a visible jerk as Seb pressed the bag’s silver clasp shut with a click and handed it up to her, dragging his gaze appreciatively along the line of her legs while he pulled himself upright.

      ‘Thank you.’ She hoped he wouldn’t notice how flustered she was; the feverish cheeks, the slight breathlessness in her voice.

      ‘No problem. Well, I guess this is goodnight then. Nice to have met you… Angel.’ She felt a jolt of electricity as he tried out her name for the first time, let it linger on his tongue while his eyes, alive with golden fire in the lamplight, probed hers.

      ‘Wait.’ Okay, one last try. If this didn’t work, Steve could sod his story and she’d go home and drown her humiliation in a bottle of wine. ‘Look, I’ve got a suite upstairs and there’s a pretty well-stocked mini bar in the lounge. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come up for a nightcap before bed? I mean, no worries if you’re tired; there’s always another time…’

      She looked straight at him with an expression half pleading with him, half daring him to accompany her.

      Seb was silent for what seemed like an age. Head slightly cocked, lips curving at one side, he appraised all her tiny dress revealed until she felt almost naked before him.

      ‘Yes,’ he said, giving in. ‘Yes, I’d like that.’

       Whatever it takes…

       Chapter 3

      The hotel suite was heavy with art-deco-style white bevelled panelling and opulent silver detail. The СКАЧАТЬ