Inevitable. Michelle Rowen

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СКАЧАТЬ balance the scales. The last time they’d spoken, she believed she’d said something like: “I never want to see you again, you bastard.”

      Perhaps she hadn’t been quite as polite, but that had been the gist of it. He’d been using her all along, trying to get into the good graces and trust of a long-time PARA agent like her, so he could get access to the office after hours.

      And he’d lied about it by saying he hadn’t done anything wrong. Then he’d turned tail and left Mystic Ridge without another word.

      He had done it. She had no doubt about that. If he’d just owned up to it, admitted he’d made the wrong choice…then maybe she might feel differently about the entire situation. Be he hadn’t. And that just made her think about the father who’d run away from a tough situation, with no regard for a wife and daughter who would have stood by him, no matter what.

      Bad memories. Very bad.

      Emma was surprised that seeing Ryan again affected her so much. Suddenly her palms were moist and her heart pounded like a jackhammer.

      She was at the party to do her job and retrieve the potion bottle from Xavier, nothing else. Still, if Ryan Shephard was at this party, she was sure he was up to no good.

      Summoning up her courage, she put one heel-clad foot in front of the other and made a beeline toward him. A waiter carrying a tray of champagne passed by and she grabbed a glass, downing it in one gulp before she carried on. Her borrowed mask felt hot and uncomfortable.

      The faces around her were all covered in masks as well. Behind them, she knew she’d find local politicians, socialites, businesspeople, and a few celebrities. She didn’t pay them any attention. She ignored the classical music coming from the corner of the opulent ballroom. The four string quartet also wore masks. Emma’s eyes were solely fixed on her target.

      Thief.

      Liar.

      Heartbreaker.

      The star of her most erotic fantasies.

      Ryan was bad news. And bad news was best thrown in the trash or used to line a bird cage.

      He was talking to a buxom blonde wearing a pink feathered mask to match her tight pink cocktail dress when Emma tapped him on the shoulder. His back stiffened and he glanced at her.

      “Hi there,” he said with a slow smile.

      She cocked her head. “Hi there? Really?”

      He turned back to the blonde. “Sorry.”

      “Not a problem,” she demurred. “I’ll catch up with you later. You have my phone number.”

      “Yes, I do. Thanks for that.”

      “My pleasure.”

      Oh, brother. Emma crossed her arms and tapped her foot as she waited for the blonde to wander off. Finally, he turned back to face her. The cobalt-blue eyes she remembered all too clearly were jarring behind his mask as he leisurely scanned her from head to toe. He ran a hand through his jet-black hair. It was a little longer than it had been the last time she’d seen him.

      The smile he gave her was enough to melt her panties. That is, if he really affected her anymore. And, unfortunately, he did. Unexpected desire, much like a surge of electricity jolted through her.

      Not helpful.

      “Well?” she prompted, wanting some sort of explanation about why he was there and what he was up to.

      “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked casually.

      She stared at him for a moment. “Pardon me?”

      “It’s a great party, isn’t it? The food is incredible. Have you been to the rooftop terrace yet?” He glanced toward the spiral staircase. “The view of Central Park is spectacular from up there.”

      She gaped at him in disbelief. After everything that had happened, every case they’d investigated together, every hour they’d spoken in the past, every sexual fantasy she’d secretly harbored for him—he didn’t know who she was under her mask.

      Of all the damned nerve.

      RYAN WRACKED HIS MIND for the right movie quote. It was from Casablanca and Bogie had said it. Something about a whole lot of gin joints in the world and Ingrid Bergman had to walk into his.

      He wasn’t Humphrey Bogart and this wasn’t an old movie. But the sight of beautiful Emma Black immediately made him want to head to the bar in the corner of the parlor and consume a great deal of gin.

      Even with a party mask on, he would recognize her anywhere. And not just because of her long flame-red hair—although it did help her stand out in a crowd. She was short in stature—not much over five feet, but she always made up for it by wearing treacherously high heels. Tonight she wore a simple black dress, a little less fancy and shiny than what other women were wearing tonight, but he had to fight his gaze not to skim down her body again. He thought he’d memorized every luscious curve back when they were partners, but unexpectedly seeing her standing right in front of him had been enough to knock all logical thought out of his head.

      No, it wasn’t just because of her hair or her body that he recognized her.

      It was the look in her emerald green eyes. He remembered that look after being on the receiving end of it nearly six months ago.

      Sheer unadulterated hatred.

      It brought back memories—bad ones.

      His knee-jerk reaction to seeing her standing there glaring at him like he was an insect that had the audacity to smash into her windshield was to pretend he didn’t recognize her.

      And here they were.

      “Anyway—” he pushed a facsimile of a charming smile to his lips “—have a lovely evening.”

      He didn’t want to scurry off with his tail between his legs, but the compulsion was strong.

      “Ryan,” she said sharply. “It’s me.”

      This ruse wasn’t going to last. But owning up to it right away just wasn’t in his nature. “Have we met before?”

      “Yes.” It was more of a hiss than a confirmation.

      He scratched his chin. “You do seem a bit familiar to me. Was it Hawaii? A little bar called the Lotus Flower?”

      The glare she gave him was sharp enough to wound. “You’re hilarious.”

      “I am known for my sense of humor.”

      “What the hell are you doing here, Ryan?” There was a decidedly unpleasant edge to her words that tasted a bit to him like venom. She had just as much of a sense of humor as he did—at least she used to. It was one of the things he liked best about her. This, however, was not one of those times she chose to tap into it.

      Ryan’s smile finally faded. “Emma.”

      Her eyes widened. “Ha! I knew you recognized СКАЧАТЬ