Dirty Devil / The Fling. Stefanie London

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СКАЧАТЬ me and the incredible silver of his gaze. There was heat in those eyes, the promise of long, hot, decadent nights in silk sheets, the mysteries of sex revealed...

      I couldn’t breathe, abruptly aware of the movement of the air across my skin in the humid night and the scratchy feel of my uniform; of the fabric pulling tight across my breasts and the fast beat of my heart.

      Of an ache right down low inside me that felt strangely like...longing.

      A dim part of my mind told me that I was being stupid, that he was just a man, nothing special. A good-looking man, sure, but not one I should be losing my head over. And yet... I couldn’t look away from him.

      No one had ever looked at me the way he was looking right now. No one had ever even noticed me at all. I was ordinary. Unremarkable. Unmemorable.

      I wasn’t a woman a man like him would ever look at twice.

      Then he gestured at me, making shock pulse hard in my veins. Oh, my God. What the hell did he want?

       You’re standing there dressed as a waitress, holding a tray of drinks. What do you think he wants?

      Oh. Right. Yes. The uniform. He didn’t want me, he only wanted a waitress.

      Forcing away the effects of his gaze, not to mention the odd dip in my stomach that definitely wasn’t disappointment, I concentrated on making sure my hands didn’t shake as I made my way towards him and his entourage.

      The women were all pleading with him to finish his story—he’d stopped at a very important part, apparently—and thank God he looked away from me as I approached, his mouth curling. ‘Patience, ladies. Good things come to those who wait. Now, who else needs a drink?’

      I came to a stop in front of him and held out the tray. He rose to his feet in one fluid, athletic movement, towering above me as he picked up the bottle, pouring liberal amounts into the glasses on the tray next to it. He didn’t look at me, too busy talking and laughing with a couple of the women next to him.

      The tension that had gathered across my shoulders relaxed a fraction, even as the dip in my stomach intensified. He’d definitely looked at me because I was a waitress and he wanted a drink. No other reason. And just as well, since anonymity was my number one weapon and the reason Mr Chen’s business was so successful.

      Go unnoticed. Stay under the radar. That was what he’d always told me and that was what I always did.

       But you want to be noticed.

      The thought slid through my brain like a snake.

      No, that was ridiculous. Sure, being a reacquisition agent made for a lonely kind of existence, and sometimes I felt as though I was a ghost living in the walls of the city, passing by people unseen, leaving behind no trace of my presence. And, yes, there were times when I might have nursed a fantasy or two, late at night in my bed. Of having a lover. Someone to touch me and hold me when I was sad and lonely. Someone with whom to laugh and share the good times.

      But Mr Chen had been very clear that it wasn’t possible to have that and be in the business I was in. Draw too much attention from anyone, and there was the risk that I’d find myself in a jail cell.

      I couldn’t have that. I couldn’t put Mr Chen’s business and my livelihood in danger just because I was lonely. Which made the answer simple: I just wouldn’t be lonely. And so far I hadn’t been.

      Shooting Blackwood a glance as he smiled at yet another adoring woman, I steadied my grip on the tray. It was slightly intimidating being this close to him after months of seeing him on a screen or in magazines. He was so much taller than I’d expected, even though the Internet had been very helpful as to his height and weight—six foot two, ninety kilos. He was a lot broader too. When he moved, his suit jacket pulled across his shoulders, highlighting the heavy muscle beneath it, and I could see by the way his trousers sat low on his lean hips that he probably didn’t have an ounce of fat on him.

      He laughed as one of the women made a joke, and I felt the vibration of that laugh settle right down low inside me, a deep, purring, sexy sound.

      No wonder he was a terrific man-whore. Who could resist him?

       You, for a start.

      Yes, well, luckily for me, resisting him wasn’t going to be an issue, as he hadn’t looked at me again since I’d come over with the drinks.

      Not once.

      Which was good and definitely not in any way a disappointment.

      I was still staring at him and silently judging the people around him for their open adoration, when he turned and looked at me again.

      And, as it had before, the impact of his gaze moved through me like slow, sensual lightning.

      Then his mouth curled and he winked.

      Shock rooted me to the spot and I gaped, unable to stop myself, but he’d already looked away, turning that brilliant, sexy smile onto someone else.

      It was as if I’d been under a spotlight and the beam had shifted, plunging me into darkness and leaving me blinded.

      My heart raced and I struggled to get a breath.

       Not good, fool. Not good at all.

      No, it wasn’t. I was staring at him like a rabbit in the headlights and if I didn’t shift my butt he was going to notice me again. And not in a good way.

      Because the one thing I wasn’t supposed to do was gain his attention.

      Damn it. I’d been so confident in my own ordinariness that I’d thought he’d never even look at me. Apparently, I was wrong.

       It doesn’t matter. Get moving.

      No, it really didn’t. After all, I wasn’t here to get his attention. I was here to get in, find the Red Queen, take it and get out again. Simple.

      On that bracing thought, I gripped my tray and turned away from sexy Damian Blackwood and his entourage.

      And got on with the business of robbing him blind.

       CHAPTER TWO

      Damian

      I SAT BACK on the couch with another glass of champagne and watched the sweet-faced little waitress who’d given me a pissy look disappear into the crowd with her now-empty tray.

      It wasn’t often that women looked at me as if they’d like to punch me in the face. Men, sure. Women, no.

      She’d been standing there staring at me, a watchful, still point in the chaos of the party around her, which should have made my eyes slide right over her. Yet the opposite had happened. Almost as if her stillness was the reason my attention had been drawn to her.

      Her eyes had been very dark and absolutely unreadable, like the surface of a deep lake I couldn’t see the bottom of, and I’d СКАЧАТЬ