Risking It All: The Proposition / The Dare / The Favour / The P.I. / The Cop / The Defender. Cara Summers

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СКАЧАТЬ not Jared Slade’s bodyguard. I’m his executive vice president in charge of retail acquisitions. He left me behind to finish up a deal we’re working on.”

      “With Irene Malinowitz at Silken Fantasies?”

      “No comment.” She was sharp. Either that or someone in his organization was keeping her well-informed. His eyes narrowed as her face suddenly flushed.

      “I—I want to thank you for the…red…under things. You really shouldn’t have, but…I mean…”

      A very vivid image slipped into Hunter’s mind of that moment when he’d first seen her wearing the red thong and bra—the way she’d looked wearing nothing but those thin wisps of lace and those red boots. Whatever cooling off his body had done stopped and went into an abrupt reverse. Shoving the image out of his mind, he said, “You haven’t answered my question. Who told you my boss was here?”

      She hesitated and he could almost hear the wheels inside her head start to turn.

      “You can’t lie to me. So don’t even try.”

      RORY GRIPPED THE EDGE of the wall and wished that she hadn’t left her bubble gum in the car. He had the Terminator look back on his face, and there was a part of her that wanted to do a Humpty Dumpty into his arms and just see where she would fall.

      But she’d come here to get an interview. “If I tell you, will you call Mr. Slade and set up the interview?”

      “I’ll call him and ask him about it. That’s all I can promise.”

      She nodded. “Okay. It’s a little complicated. My sister Natalie is a friend of Sophie Wainwright and Sophie told Natalie that a reclusive tycoon who was worried about his safety was consulting with her brother’s chief of security.” She paused to take a breath. “And LucasWainwright’s chief of security happens to be Sophie’s main squeeze. No names were mentioned—but Natalie works for a special D.C. police task force, and her office was called about the bomb scare in Mr. Slade’s suite. She told me about that—strictly off the record. But how many media-shy tycoons with security problems could be in Washington at one time?”

      Hunter wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh or to swear. The story was way too convoluted and way too plausible for him to doubt it. Unless Rory Gibbs was a very talented liar.

      “Did you let anyone at your magazine know that you were coming out here?” he asked.

      “No. If it didn’t pan out, I’d look like a fool, wouldn’t I?”

      Another convincing answer. Whether she was lying or not, he’d have to let Tracker know she was here—and he’d have to at least pretend to make a phone call to Jared Slade.

      “Come with me. We’ll talk inside,” he said.

      “What about the dogs?”

      “They’re friendly.” He moved closer to the wall. “Jump and I’ll catch you.”

      Rory saw those hands reaching for her and her whole system began to have a meltdown again. pImages** slipped into her mind of what she’d seen them do to her in the mirror in that dressing room. Whatever else happened, she wanted those hands on her again.

      Scooting to the edge of the wall, she didn’t even count to three before she took the plunge. And then he was holding her tightly against that body again. For one scorching moment, she was aware of nothing but hard angles and rock-hard muscles pressing into her. An instant later, he set her on her feet with an abruptness that had her taking a quick step back to the wall for support. Before she could even be sure of her balance, he turned away and started toward the drive with the dogs loping along happily at his side.

      Rory frowned at him. Then she took several quick steps to catch up. She’d come here to get an interview with Jared Slade. The one she’d been promised. And she wasn’t going to give up.

      But as she followed him up the curved driveway, she found her focus slipping again. Even from the back, he radiated a kind of raw energy that was both primitive and sexual. If she’d inherited just a portion of her sisters’ planning genes, perhaps she could have stopped staring at the damp hair that curled low at the back of his neck. Or she might have kept her gaze from drifting down the length of his back and lower.

      His sweats were made of some thin material that fit snugly over his backside. Her eyes lingered there as her stomach clenched and she started to lose the feeling in her legs. She knew what it would feel like to slip her hands beneath the waistband and explore that taut, smooth skin. Would it be as hot as it had been the last time—as hot as hers was beginning to feel? Rory’s eyes widened as she watched her hands reach out of their own accord. Snatching them back, she stumbled.

      In a move so quick, it sent whatever breath she had left backing up into her lungs, he turned and grabbed both of her arms to steady her. “You all right?”

      No, she was anything but all right. She was turning into one big puddle of lust. And it was clear that he wasn’t. At least not anymore. His eyes were almost clinical as they searched her face. “I’ll get you something to drink when we get to the house.”

      She didn’t need anything to drink—except perhaps a long swallow of him, but he didn’t seem to be on the same wavelength anymore.

      Wasn’t that just the story of her life when it came to men? Try as she might, she just didn’t have the equipment to turn men into lust puddles. At least not for very long. Otherwise, he would have pulled her to him and that gorgeous mouth would be feasting on hers again.

      But it wasn’t. And she was not going to think about what that mouth had felt like on hers. She couldn’t afford to go there. One thing at a time, she told herself. Getting the interview required all of her concentration. Drawing in a deep breath, she met his eyes and said, “I’m…fine.”

      His gaze remained locked on hers for one more moment, and Rory held her breath, hoping that nothing he saw would betray her.

      Finally, he nodded. “Watch your step on the gravel.” Then dropping his hands, he turned and led the way along a path to a patio. Just as they passed through open French doors into what looked like a study, the phone rang. She lingered in the doorway as he strode to the desk and picked it up. Grateful for a slight reprieve, she pulled her eyes away from him and looked around the room. Three of the walls were lined with books that looked like they’d been read.

      “Yes?” He spoke the word into the phone as if he’d been expecting the call. “We need to talk. Just hang on a minute, will you?” He set the phone down, then moved toward her. “I have some business to discuss. Would you mind waiting out on the patio for a bit?”

      “No.” She stepped back through the French doors.

      “There’s a housekeeper—a man named McGee. The Wainwrights left him in charge when they went back to D.C. I’ll have him bring you something to drink. Would you prefer coffee? Iced tea? A soft drink?”

      “There’s no need. Really.”

      His brows lifted. “I’m going to tell him to bring you something, so you might as well take your choice.”

      She raised her hands, palms out. “Okay. Coffee would be fine.”

      “Good. Why СКАЧАТЬ