Game For Anything. Cara Summers

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      “I’ll follow you, then. I want time with you. Alone.”

      “John.” With a quick look around, she took his hand and led him off the dance floor toward the shelter of some trees, where they could have a little privacy. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to spend time with you alone—the way you mean it. I…” For a moment she thought she saw a flash of anger in his eyes, but it was masked so quickly that she might have been mistaken.

      “I don’t mean to rush you,” he said.

      “It’s not that you’re rushing me,” she said. “I think you’ve been very patient, but I don’t think that I’ll change my mind with time. And I’m sorry if I led you on. You’re such a nice man, and I value you as a friend and a business colleague.” Sophie stopped then because she felt little prickles of awareness along her nerve endings. Tracker was near. He was listening to every word she said.

      “Well,” John said, and then cleared his throat. “I won’t tell you that I didn’t hope for more. But I value your friendship also, enough so that I won’t jeopardize it by pushing you further than you want to go. But I do want to see you again, strictly for business. You’ve aroused my curiosity about that shipment you’re receiving tomorrow.”

      Sophie smiled at him. “I’ll expect you at the shop bright and early. And I’ll put you to work unloading it.”

      “Good.” He took her hands and squeezed them. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      As he turned and walked away toward the front of the house, Sophie took one step after him, wanting to say something more.

      “I wouldn’t,” said a low voice, so close that she jumped. “It’s always best to make a clean break.”

      She turned to see Tracker separate himself from the shadow of the trees. “It’s rude to eavesdrop.”

      He moved closer then, and it was all she could do not to take a quick step back at the overwhelming effect of his proximity.

      “If you wanted your conversation to be private, you shouldn’t have had it in a garden. Besides, when you’re going to dump guys, it’s good to have someone close by. They think twice before they get violent.”

      “John Landry is a very nice man. He would never get violent.” She thought of the flash of anger she’d seen in his eyes.

      “Take it from me, he was pissed.” Tracker grinned at her. “You’re lucky he’s such a nice guy.”

      Sophie narrowed her eyes. She didn’t like the way he’d said “nice” as if it meant wimp. “There’s nothing wrong with being nice.”

      “Right.” Tracker’s chuckle was deep and so infectious that for a moment she wanted nothing more than to join him. She stifled the impulse.

      “When was the last time being nice got you what you wanted in this world?” he asked.

      Well, that was true enough, she thought. And hadn’t she already decided that being nice wasn’t going to get her very far with him, either? He probably preferred naughty over nice twenty-four–seven. The idea sent a little thrill running through her.

      “Being nice didn’t get Landry what he wanted.”

      It occurred to her that this was the longest conversation she’d ever had with Tracker McBride. “And your suggestion to him would be?”

      His expression sobered and he met her eyes directly. “If he wants you, he should reach out and take you.”

      The words, combined with the look he gave her, were enough to tighten all the muscles deep inside of her.

      She lifted her chin. “And just what do you want?”

      For a moment he said nothing. Then he smiled slowly, and she felt her knees go weak. “Me? I’m just going to do my job and follow you home.”

      So they were back to that, were they? Temper stiffened her spine. “I don’t need an escort.”

      “Look, Princess, it’s late, both of your dates have driven home in their own cars, and Lucas doesn’t want you going home alone.” Tracker waited a beat and then continued. “You’ll just waste your energy if you try to lose me. Don’t expect to play that little game again and win.”

      Although it cost her, she said nothing. Five years in business had taught her that keeping her temper was crucial if she wanted to sell a customer on her way of thinking. And her way of thinking—until he’d annoyed her by reminding her that he was her guardian angel—was to get Tracker within touching distance. If he followed her to her apartment, all she had to do was get him inside.

      She tilted her head at him. “Relax, Tracker. I’m not going to run away again. That game bores me. I’d much rather continue the one we started on the dance floor.”

      His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

      “Why don’t we leave it up to chance?” Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the coin Mac had given her. “A simple toss of the coin. Heads, you come up when we get to my place and we continue our game of twenty questions. Tails, you follow me home and slide back into the shadows. Are you game?”

      He studied her for a moment. “Okay. Toss the coin.”

      She tossed it up, caught it and let him look. “Heads. And since it’s my turn to ask a question, I’ll tell you what it is so you can think about it. I want to know what your real name is.”

      Pocketing the coin, she turned and headed toward her car. Let him chew on that while he followed her home.

      WHAT IN HELL KIND OF GAME was she playing? The question had been plaguing him ever since the Princess had flipped that damn coin. Easing his foot off the gas, he allowed the car to drop back a little farther behind Sophie’s as they sped along the expressway that would take them into the District of Columbia. The last thing he was going to do was crowd her. She’d surprised him three times tonight. First of all, she’d kissed him. Then she’d dumped Landry. And now she’d invited Tracker into her apartment for a continuation of their game of twenty questions. He didn’t like surprises where the Princess was concerned, especially when the stakes were this high.

      Since he couldn’t predict what kind of game she was playing, he’d make sure the odds were in his favor.

      When she slowed and signaled a turn onto an off-ramp, he eased his foot from the gas.

      He should never have kissed her on the dance floor. He hadn’t been able to resist her. And that one kiss had confirmed his worst suspicion: one was not going to be enough with Sophie Wainright. Not nearly. Whatever he’d imagined in his fantasies hadn’t come close to reality. One taste and his control had slipped. The pull between them was so elemental that before he’d found the strength to set her away, he’d lost something of himself.

      He wanted her, and he was beginning to understand that he would have her. The need he had for her might not leave him with any choice. The thought chilled him even as it made every pulse in his body throb. But for now—tonight and the next few days—he had a job to do, and he would do it much better if he could maintain some distance.

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