WENDY ETHERINGTON
What Happened in Vegas…

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

To my editor, Wanda Ottewell. If you weren’t so

damn brilliant, I wouldn’t be losing you. Congrats

on the promotion, girl! No one deserves it more.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

1

JACINDA BARRETT dropped into the chair behind her desk with an uncharacteristic plop. “Wasn’t I just here?”

Her assistant, Andrew, handed her a cup of coffee. “We all were, honey. The auction has everybody hopping.” He leaned over her desk and whispered conspiratorially, “I think even the boss man stayed after five last night.”

Jacinda sipped coffee to hide her smile. If Sherman Pascowitz, chairman of Callibro’s Auction House since before Moses parted the seas, worked late, then the auction that was due to take place in less than a week must truly be extraordinary. And that fact added to her anxiety. She was only an assistant curator. This was the first time she’d been given the opportunity to take charge of an auction—and that was no doubt because her boss was currently on maternity leave. Still, Mr. Pascowitz could have chosen any one of the three other assistants.

“How many more items do we have to inventory?” she asked Andrew.

“About a hundred.”

“Then let’s hope this caffeine kicks in soon. Let me answer my e-mail, then we’ll get to it.”

Andrew spun and headed toward the door. “I’m there for you as always.”

Jacinda didn’t hide her smile this time. She faced her computer and began the process of sorting through her mail.

Andrew was an amazing asset to her office—and no doubt one of the main reasons she’d risen to the attention of the chairman after only working at the auction house for two years. Andrew was an NYU grad with an amazing eye for antiques. He was also a future fashion icon, at least as he told it.

Frankly, she thought his chartreuse suits and purple striped pants paired with sober dove-gray shirts were a bit over-the-top. But nobody—even the wildly conservative Mr. Pascowitz—seemed to care, since Andrew was completely brilliant.

Though she’d graduated at the top of her class, double majoring in history and business, she’d done so at University of Nevada, Las Vegas, which wasn’t exactly Harvard. And her family’s history involved lots of cocktail waitresses. Andrew came from big money, so he grew up with class, plus he was one of those IQ-off-the-scale people. She’d lucked out in a big way by having him assigned to her.

She was nearly through her inbox when the intercom beeped.

“Ms. Barrett, do you have a moment to meet with a potential client?” Andrew asked.

Andrew only addressed her formally when he had a VIP in the office, so Jacinda had to fight back a groan. She barely had half a cup of coffee in her. “Of course. Send him in.”

Seconds later, the door to her office opened and Andrew strode in, followed by another man. A gorgeous man wearing faded jeans and a white T-shirt. A man who had shoulder-brushing, black wavy hair, green eyes and a sculpted jaw.

A man she recognized.

Damn, damn, damn.

Half out of her chair, Jacinda swallowed her fears and held out her hand, praying she’d changed enough, hoping like crazy that enough time had passed and that a certain weekend in Vegas had been easily forgotten.

No such luck.

Their hands connected along with their gazes. Recognition sprang into his, followed by sexual awareness and amusement. “Ms. Barrett,” he said smoothly.

“Ms. Barrett, this is Gid—”

“Oh, she knows who I am,” Gideon Nash said, still staring into her eyes, still holding her hand.

Resisting the instinct to melt into a puddle as she desperately shoved aside memories of hot skin, heavy breathing and intense satisfaction, Jacinda pulled her hand back. She glanced at Andrew long enough to see his eyebrows lift, then he winked and left the room.

Jacinda, who’d run from a fight exactly once in her life, nearly ran after her assistant.

“Does he always dress like that?” Gideon asked, glancing back as the door clicked shut.

“Yes.”

“Is he color-blind?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Okay. Takes all kinds, I guess.” He faced her again. His gaze slid from her face down her body, leaving burn marks in its wake.

She fought against his allure, against memories she had no business recalling. It was as if the past six years faded away in a single moment. But, beneath the desire that somehow, inexplicably, hadn’t diminished, was an odd combination of fear and anger.

Hadn’t she fought, clawed and finessed her way out of her old life? Hadn’t she convinced herself wild, impulsive decisions led nowhere productive? Didn’t she now have the respectability she’d always longed for? Weren’t all the sacrifices worth her own office, an assistant and her first auction?

He settled into the chair in front of her desk. “I always thought that ‘it’s a small world’ expression was a bit trite, but here we are living it.”

She remained standing. Every advantage seemed vital at the moment. “I guess we are.”

His gaze flicked over her again. “You’re different.”

“You’re not.”

She remembered the same half smile on his face as he’d gazed up at her on the Vegas club stage where she’d danced for college tuition money, where she’d been anonymous and bold. Exotic and sensual. Half-dressed. Cheap. Hiding her ambition behind a stage name and thick layer of hair spray and lip gloss.

“What happened to Jacy Powers?” he asked, his voice deep and husky, just as she remembered it.

“Gone. She’s not coming back.”

“What a shame. I liked her.”

She closed her eyes briefly. Dear heaven. “I didn’t.” Opening her eyes, she forced herself to glare at him. “What do you want?”

“Is that any way to talk to a potential benefactor?”

Digging deep for the elegance she’d fought so hard to cultivate, she eased herself into her chair. “No, but since you’re not one, I feel perfectly comfortable being direct.”

“Oh, right. I forgot.” He smiled. “I’m just an adventurer chasing a pipe dream.”

Yet she’d still been tempted to follow him. She’d actually considered trading her future and her dreams for this man. “Aren’t you?”

“Most of the time. Aren’t you going to ask if I ever found the Diamond of Sierra?”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Talk about a pipe dream. “Did you?”

“Yes.”

Despite herself, she was impressed. During the brief time they’d spent together, he’d assured her he was well on his way to finding great treasure and achieving fame. Though their chemistry was fantastic, and he was charming and fun, she hadn’t believed a word he said. He’d shared too many characteristics with the endless parade of guys through Vegas’s casinos with dollar signs in their eyes and surefire plans to beat the house.

Now, however, she recognized how different he’d been from those dreamers. His plans had relied not on the luck of the draw but on solid research. She also recognized that a gem of the size and fame of the Sierra could bring a great deal of publicity to her auction. “Do you still have it?”

“You’d probably like to have it in your upcoming auction.”

She leaned back in her chair. This was why he’d come. He wasn’t trying to dig up the past and jeopardize her reputation. He was looking to make money. She’d be glad to accommodate him. “Naturally.”

“Sorry. I sold it soon after I acquired it.” He angled his head. “I’m surprised you didn’t take notice.”

After their wild weekend together, she’d thought about double-checking his claims. She’d nearly approached the friend who’d introduced them about a hundred times to ask her the whole story about the sexy, mysterious Gideon Nash.

But Jacinda had only been into that weekend for fun. She wasn’t like her mother, who actually believed the stories and promises men told her. Plus, Jacinda hadn’t wanted it getting around the club that she’d become sexually intimate with a customer. She’d needed that job, and Gideon was way too big a risk. Years later her discretion had paid off, since her boss agreed to tell people she’d been a waitress when potential employers—especially high-dollar ones like the auction house—called her references.

“I thought it was best to make a clean break,” she said.

“I expected you at the airport.”

Jacinda shook her head. “No, you didn’t.” Laying her hands on her desk, she forced herself to calmly link her fingers. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

“I want to see the emerald.”

“What em—” She clenched her hands as she realized the auction piece he had to be referring to. “The Veros family emerald?”

He smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, that one.”

Though curious about his interest in the stone, she knew there was no way he had the kind of money necessary to actually buy the emerald. Who turned treasure hunter/aimless adventurer into a profitable profession?

She managed a polite smile. “The auction is next week. If you’d like a catalog—”

He stood. “I want to see the emerald now.”

“We don’t do previews. The auction—”

“Yes, you do. For VIP clients.” He paused, his gaze hitting hers like a laser. “I’d think you’d be glad to do a favor for an old friend.”

“You’re not a friend.”

“No, I was much more.” He angled his head. “Or was I?”

Visions of slick skin, rippling muscles and blazing green eyes raced through her mind. Over the years there were moments she was sure she could smell him, moments she just knew he’d been in her car, or her apartment. He never was, of course. But the memories of them together were so strong, so vivid, she couldn’t completely set them aside. No matter how hard she fought.

“We weren’t anything,” she said.

He clutched his hands over his heart. “Aw, now my feelings are hurt.”

“I don’t want to get into a confrontation with you.”

“Then don’t. Show me the emerald.”

She sighed in the face of his determination. Maybe he’d heard the rumors about the gem’s beauty, wanted to see it and had hoped to charm the auction director into allowing the viewing. Now he was using their linked past to push his way into the vault. Maybe the stone had been lost once-upon-a-time, and he’d tried to find it. Maybe a competitor had beaten him to its recovery.

Hell, maybe he’d tried to steal, swindle or connive the emerald from somebody and failed.

She should toss him out of her office. She should plant her foot and call security to get him out. In six years, she should have found the strength to say no to him. Instead, she was tempted to grant his request.

Why?

For old time’s sake? A thanks-for-the-two-hot-nights parting gift?

As much as she’d like to assign a complicated reason or a justification for breaking the rules, she knew the real motivation was much more simple.

He intrigued her.

The way no one else ever had, from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him. He drew her toward him like the proverbial moth to a flame, tempting her toward the heat, even though the danger of burning up loomed if she made the mistake of getting too close.

Why was he here—really? Though he’d seemed surprised to see her, had he expected to find her when he walked into the office? If so, how had he found her? Hell, how did he remember her, a girl who had to have been one in a million?

And what was his connection to the valuable emerald? What did he want it for? Did he have a client on the hook, or did he merely want to gaze upon its magnificence?

She rose, making sure she did so with grace and confidence. He had to notice the differences between Jacinda and Jacy. She hoped he kept the contrast clear in his mind. She’d made a new life, and she wouldn’t let him show up and jeopardize a moment of it.

What did it matter if she let him have his way and see the stone? He’d be out the door and out of her life quicker if she gave in to his request.

She rounded the desk, then headed toward the door. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled. “You’re coming, aren’t you?” she asked, since he hadn’t moved.

His gaze slid from her face, down her body, then rose slowly, leisurely, again. “You always had a distracting strut.”

She bit back a gasp of annoyance. Leave it to Gideon, the wild, live-for-the-moment adventurer, to steal her control and land her smack-dab in the middle of her past so effortlessly. “I don’t strut.” Not anymore.

He reached around her and opened the door. “You most certainly do.”

The enticing scent of him washed over her, and the memories quickly followed, as if six minutes had passed instead of six years. She recalled the heat of his body, the way his lean muscles rippled beneath her touch, the intense pleasure he’d brought her—like none other she’d had before or since. She remembered gawking at the luxury hotel suite, the expensive dinner and champagne. All free, he’d said. A gift from a gambler friend who’d decided to head to Monte Carlo instead of Vegas that weekend.

The charming, exotic mystery of Gideon had seduced her with nothing more than a smile and the promise of a good time.

A risk that had paid off in a big way.

At least for two days.

Beyond that, she knew his offer to come away with him was empty. She danced in skimpy costumes for horny vacationers. She knew her place in the world. No matter what his grand ambitions had been, she’d had ambitions of her own. And they hadn’t included skipping around the world on a friend’s generosity or chasing after the next treasure.

She didn’t even consider the idea that they’d be together for longer than it took boredom to set in.

And, yet, here he was.

His appearance was unexpected and curious. Something she couldn’t set aside so easily. Because she’d begun to wonder if ambition really was a lonely and empty path? Because she’d had years to realize how special their brief moments together were? Or because the connection was just that strong?

“I only have a few minutes,” she said finally.

“That’s what you said when we got in the cab six years ago.” He leaned close. “Is tonight going to turn out the same way?”

With an ease she knew she hadn’t possessed the last time she’d seen him, she turned away. “Don’t hold your breath.”

As they walked through the outer office, Andrew was typing on his computer. “I’m going to the warehouse. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Yes, Ms. Barrett.”

God bless the man for knowing how to turn on the disinterested professionalism when necessary. More often than not, when something interesting was going on in the office, he plopped his backside on her desk and demanded that she “dish” about the news.

No doubt the dishing would come later.

After passing through several security checkpoints, both mechanical and human, Jacinda and Gideon reached the warehouse. With the upcoming auction, there were dozens of people around, checking inventory, organizing the receiving area and opening crates.

Rumor around the office said that Malle Callibro herself—after whom the auction house was named—used to walk through the warehouse every night before she left to be sure the treasures entrusted to her were safe and sound.

“Ms. Callibro built quite an empire,” Gideon commented as he looked around.

“How do you know—”

“Her name’s on the marquee out front.”

“Of course.”

And of course Gideon Nash didn’t know anything personal about somebody as high society as Malle, who’d broken rules, doing the unexpected and making her own way in the world. Jacinda figured rising from a cheap go-go club in Vegas to a prestigious auction house in Manhattan could be considered rule-breaking, too.

“She supposedly had over fifty lovers during her lifetime,” Gideon said.

“Supposedly is right. With those kinds of numbers, she’d never have had time to build her business.” She paused at the vault door guarding the auction house’s jewelry. “Which she most certainly did.”

“Personally, I prefer quality over quantity.”

“No kidding.” She smiled wanly over her shoulder at him. “I never would have guessed.”

He moved in close behind her. “You don’t consider our time together quality?”

She fought against the intimate tone of his voice, the warm, masculine scent teasing her nose. “It was…fine.”

She didn’t see, but could feel his smile. “Fine, huh?”

There was no way the words fabulous, amazing or exhilarating were coming out of her mouth. “It was just a weekend.”

“Like so many before and since?”

How had he boxed her so neatly into a corner? If she said yes, she’d look like a slut. If she said no, he’d probably display some self-satisfied smirk, as if he was the greatest lover on the planet.

As far as you know, he is.

That was beside the point.

She turned her head to meet his gaze. “We’ve both moved on,” she said neutrally. “Do you want to see the emerald?”

He drew his finger gently, slowly along her jawline. “Very much.”

“Step back.”

“Why?”

“I have to enter the code for the door.”

He stepped away and turned his back.

She entered the code, waited a moment to be sure all the laser sensors and alarms had disengaged, then pulled open the door. The moments without his stare blazing into her also allowed her time to roll her shoulders and regain her poise. She was no longer curious about why he wanted to see the jewel. She just wanted him gone.

He reminded her of a past she’d fought like crazy to forget. He tempted her. He made her think about twisted sheets and tangled limbs—a distraction she couldn’t afford.

She’d show him the gem, then hustle him out. He’d go back to chasing his pipe dreams, and she’d get back to double-checking inventory. His chaos and her order. The only way both of them would be happy.

After flipping on the lights, she walked into the small room. The walls were draped in black, lint-free fabric and the overhead spotlights simulated natural light, which showed flaws in lesser stones, but illuminated the brilliance of the superior ones. The glass display cabinets formed a U, inviting the viewer into the middle to goggle and sigh.

Gideon was right. She did bring VIP clients back here. She’d escorted five in the past week, two of whom specifically wanted to view the Veros emerald.

And though Gideon wasn’t a VIP—and she was wildly uncomfortable with him smack in the middle of her respectable new life—he would appreciate the stone as much as she did. He was one of the few people who’d actually care where it came from and what it represented.

“It’s in the corner,” she said—unnecessarily it seemed, since Gideon was already heading in that direction.

He said nothing for several moments, and Jacinda stayed behind him, anticipating he’d like to absorb the magnificent cut and clarity on his own. Even if he really had the money to bid for it, she knew she didn’t need to come up with a sales pitch. The gem’s deep greenish blue color and minimal flaws detectable by the naked eye were rare and set it apart from other emeralds in an obvious way, just as the infamous Hope diamond shined not clear like common diamonds, but with blue brilliance for the millions of tourists shuffling through the Smithsonian.

The only drawback had been the Veros gem’s setting. The staid gold-and-silver broach surrounding it crowded the light too much and didn’t highlight the emerald. After much wrangling and begging, she’d finally convinced the family that if they wanted top bids, they’d have to allow the auction house to remove the gem from the setting, so that the buyer could see the emerald from all sides and angles.

Now the stone lay unadorned on a minimal set of prongs, raised above a cushion of black cloth.

“It’s amazing,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Yes, it is.”

“I’ve seen pictures, but I never imagined…”

She smiled, understanding his awe. It reminded her that he loved beautiful things. Beautiful, expensive things. And though she’d had a decent face and a lush body when they’d first met, she’d been cheap. In appearance and profession. She’d changed all that. She used her brain instead of her body now—though she still had the lush body for someone who took the time to look beneath her conservative suits—but she still felt the tarnish of cheapness. Maybe she always would.

Shoving aside her insecurities, she said, “I have a loupe and tweezers if you’d like a closer look.”

“Thanks. I would.”

Rounding the counter, she retrieved the necessary tools, then entered another code, allowing her access to the cabinet containing the emerald. The auction house didn’t take chances with its inventory, and the emerald was one of its most valued.

She retrieved the tray containing the stone, then stepped back a bit, wanting to watch him work.

He used the tweezers and loupe like a pro, his hands looking strong and capable as the emerald shot sparks in a million directions, the stone seeming to glow from the inside like something from a mythological tale.

Oddly enough, she recalled their second night together. After they’d had amazing sex in the shower, they’d sat on the bed wearing bathrobes and eating lobster from room service. Gideon had suddenly jumped up, returning a few moments later with a black cloth, which he’d handed to her.

Inside the folded cloth was a ring, a four-karat, square-cut sapphire with diamonds surrounding it. An exquisite stone, its color deep and mysterious, like the Pacific Ocean, somehow cold and warm at the same time.

The ring had been lost, Gideon had explained, when a man had hocked it in anger after his wife divorced him. The couple had reunited recently, and the man wanted it back. He’d hired Gideon to find the ring, which he had.

But for the first time in his career, Gideon said he’d been tempted to keep a treasure. He’d slid the ring on her finger.

It’s the color of your eyes….

“I want it.”

The sapphire? But you gave it to your client. How—

She blinked away the past and tried to ground herself again in the present. The emerald. He was talking about the emerald. He wasn’t here to see her. He wasn’t here to give her gifts, or tease her with things she’d never have.

“I imagine you do,” she said coolly as she returned the emerald and its tray to the case and locked it. “Along with dozens of other people. Feel free to bid at the auction on Wednesday.”

“You don’t understand. It’s already mine.”

“Yours?” She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Be serious. Is this some Adventure-Man ploy? The emerald clearly belongs—” She stopped as he handed her a stack of photographs he’d drawn from his back pocket.

For the first time, she felt a tremor of unease—professional unease. The man may have her sweating the personal stuff, but she was confident in her job. Nothing shook her in that area.

Yet, while she’d been dreamily reliving the past, he was all business.

Rolling her shoulders, she shuffled through the pictures. They were in black and white. The first was a doozy, showing a young, beautiful woman wearing an obviously couture gown, long white gloves and a magnificent choker around her neck being presented to the King of England.

Okay, that was…unexpected.

Where had Gideon gotten these pictures? The library? The Internet?

The photos are yellowed and rough at the edges, not recently printed.

She shook away the disturbing thought, as well as the even more unsettling vision of them being pulled from a family album, or from a box in the back of somebody’s closet.

Fighting to keep her hands still, she shuffled through several more, which showed the same woman smiling and posing, dancing and bowing. The constant in all the pictures was the lovely gown and the amazing choker around her neck. The choker that featured a large, emerald-cut gem. Twenty-one karats, if Jacinda had any kind of decent eye.

And she did.

Still, the pictures were old black-and-whites. The stone in the choker could be glass. It could be any color. The pictures could be doctored. In the age of digital technology, anything was possible.

On the other hand…Jacinda was pretty sure she recognized the woman in the photos. Sophia Graystone. A high-society woman who’d been wild in her youth but who had eventually married and become one of the most respected philanthropists in the city. A close friend of Malle Callibro. In the director’s office, there was even a picture of them smoking cigars in a club, laughing as if the world existed to simply amuse them.

“It’s Sophia Graystone,” she said to Gideon, forcing disinterest into her voice. “So?”

“The emerald in the pictures is the same you see in the display case,” Gideon said.

“Oh, please. They’re black-and-white photos and—”

“It’s the same,” he insisted.

She said nothing.

His gaze burned into hers. “Sophia was a close friend of Malle Callibro.”

“So I’ve heard. Look, I—”

“She’s also my grandmother.”

2

GIDEON WATCHED Jacinda’s face pale. Her hands trembled around the pictures she held.

He wanted to comfort and assure her, but there was too much at stake. Hadn’t he come here for shock value? Hadn’t he counted on catching her off guard?

Still, it hurt to watch her hurt.

“Sophia Graystone is my grandmother,” he repeated, concerned that Jacinda needed a jolt.

Jacinda’s gaze jumped to his, back to the pictures, then latched on to his again. “So, you’re…you’re—”

“Incredibly wealthy and privileged.” He smiled gently. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

She laid the pictures on the display case and stepped back. “You lied to me.”

“No, I don’t think I did.” He’d been careful, as always, and given her limited details. To some, his words would have been considered lying; to others, simply self-protection. “I told you I chased treasures for a living. You assumed I was a penniless and unsettled dreamer, and I—” He stopped, knowing even if he hadn’t directly lied before, he needed to come clean now. “And I encouraged you to accept that assumption. I feel like I’ve spent half my life dodging women with their eyes on my trust fund.”

She glared at him, her blue eyes as sharp as a laser. “Oh, gee, how horrible for you.”

He reached for her hands; she shook her head. “Not my best explanation. I am an unsettled dreamer. I’m just not exactly penniless.”

“Not exactly.”

The word billions in conjunction with his family’s wealth was arrogant and ridiculous, even though it was true. He’d purposely kept that truth from the Vegas dancer he’d known so intimately. After only a few hours with her, though, he’d also known she didn’t need protection, that she was a remarkable, amazing woman.

Still, he’d kept silent. He’d always wondered what it would be like to be loved and accepted for what he was and not who he was. With the perfect opportunity dangling in front of him, he’d grabbed it. He’d let her assume his only ambitions were for fame and fortune.

In short, he’d lied in a big way.

Now, he admitted no small amount of shame over that decision. He’d wanted her body, had been intrigued by her mind, but he wouldn’t have presented her in the drawing room of his grandmother’s Park Avenue home. Was he, after all, a hypocrite?

“I’m sorry I lied to you before, though I didn’t hide everything. I do chase down lost treasures for clients. I am fascinated by history and family heirlooms. I just happen to be able to bankroll my searches if I so choose. It’s my way of giving back. My family encourages community service.” He held up his hand. “No, that’s not enough. We’re required to give back. It’s practically a family motto.”

“How generous of you.”

He ignored her sarcasm. He deserved it. But there was so much more at stake than mottos and past liaisons. “It’s what I do.”

Her eyes sparking with fiery temper, she paced away from him. “You find treasure.”

“Yes.”

“But not for money.”

“Not usually. I do it to find lost legacies.”

She stopped. “Oh, please.”

“Oh, yes.”

“You’re just a generous and selfless kind of guy.”

“Naturally.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she shook her head. “So why now? Why this treasure?”

He hadn’t expected her to listen to him and was actually relieved she hadn’t thrown him out of the building. That would have put a serious damper on his mission.

He needed Jacinda on his side. He needed her to believe him. Proving his claims that the emerald belonged to his family wasn’t going to be easy, and it was vital to have an ally in the opposing camp. “Obviously because of the family connection. It’s been a quest of mine for many years. When I saw the preview pictures of your auction, I knew I’d found it at last.” He paused, figuring he might as well spill the rest of it. “Imagine how surprised I was to find your name on the contact list.”

“My—” She stopped, narrowing her eyes. “You knew me as Jacy Powers.”

“I knew who you really were within twenty-four hours of leaving Vegas.”

Obviously embarrassed, she turned away.

“I was curious.” He lowered and gentled his tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said tightly, though clearly it did. She spun back to face him, her face a blank mask. “If the emerald belongs to your family, how do you think it could have possibly found its way here?”

“It was stolen from my grandmother many years ago.”

“No kidding. Tragic.”

Her doubtful tone set him on edge. “It was.”

While he hadn’t expected to be welcomed with open arms, knowing his deception about his family and the money would be revealed, neither had he expected her to be so hard and cold. He remembered the laughter and teasing challenge in her eyes. What had happened to her that changed her so much?

“You have proof of this theft?” she demanded.

“I have the original insurance claim.”

“Dated nineteen-forty…”

“Nine.”

“And the insurance agent can testify to that?”

“He’s dead.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“We weren’t close.”

“Still, it must have been a tragic loss for your family and your…” She paused and smirked. “Legacy.”

She was mistaken if she thought insulting him would get rid of him. “Are you doubting my word that the emerald was stolen from my family?”

She pursed her lips. “Mmm. Let me think….” Her gaze sliced to his. “Yes.”

He clenched his jaw.

Passion always brought passion—in either devotion or conflict. He could work with that. He’d made it work for him many times before. He’d hoped their past would bond them, if only a little. He’d hoped to flirt and tease his way into her good graces.

But he could be hard. Tough. Unrelenting.

His pulse hammering in his veins, he rounded the display cases and advanced toward her. He felt the weight of each step.

The closer he got, the wider her eyes became.

He’d always been charming with her. He’d been careful to be easygoing. That persona suited him.

But everything was different today.

Today, she had what he wanted. Today, she glared at him. Today, she doubted his word. Today, six years had passed since he’d touched her, since he’d felt the tension and need between them.

Today, despite all logic, distance and opposing views, he still wanted her.

As he drew closer, her body heat melded with his. The sensual perfume that was part her and part chemical reaction between them teased him. Invited him. The intimacies they’d shared flowed through him. Memories of her hot, silky skin wouldn’t let go, as if she’d physically grabbed him around his throat.

Well, actually, she’d grabbed him a bit lower.

And she had amazing hands.

“That emerald is mine,” he managed to say, his voice hoarse with suppressed desire.

“I don’t think so, Adventure Boy. It’s in my display case. It’s on my auction roster.”

“I’m not a boy.”

She cocked her head. “Leave it to a guy to dispute, not the facts, but the cheap attack on his manhood.” Drawing her finger down his chest, she smiled smugly. “You’ve softened over the years, Gideon. What a shame.”

As he grabbed her finger, he could actually feel his blood boiling. He’d tracked his family’s gem for more than a decade. He’d run down false leads. He’d bribed people. He’d failed and started again. He’d been subjected to ridicule and continually fought through the doubts of his family, friends and colleagues.

With the emerald finally within his reach, with his family’s honor at stake, he wasn’t compromising.

Even for the sensual abandon of the woman before him.

He squeezed her finger. “As I recall you liked me hard, so any softness must be a great disappointment.”

Her eyes darkened to smoke. Her lips parted.

So maybe the icy shell she’d built around her wasn’t so thick after all. Maybe she did remember the heat they’d shared. How long before he could loosen the buttons of her suit, before he could reveal that lush body she was trying so hard to hide?

He’d promised himself he’d be professional, that this was not the time for sex. He’d hoped that goal would last more than twenty minutes.

She smiled, but not with invitation. “If I had any intention of picking up where we left off six years ago, I might be disappointed.”

“I didn’t offer you anything.” Yet, anyway.

She smiled again, her eyes mocking. “Sure you did.”

“So we’re keeping things strictly professional?”

“This thing isn’t going to last more than ten minutes, so, yes, I’d say so.”

“You give me the emerald. I walk out of here. Okay, ten minutes sounds about right.”

“Not so fast.” She angled her head, looking amused. “You really think it’s yours.”

“I know it is.”

She tapped one finger on his chest, then scooted around him. “Prove it.”

He clenched his fists at his sides to keep from reaching for her. Or strangling her. Her amusement at his expense was infuriating. Why wasn’t she wound as tight as he was? Why did one touch, one sensual smile, have him hard and aching? The moment when she’d softened—an expression reminiscent of that weekend—had been way too short.

He wanted that connection back. He wanted her horizontal for hours on end.

But not more than you want the emerald, you idiot. Charming. Think charming. Get what you want, then worry about the rest.

“Let’s talk about it over dinner.”

“I have plans for dinner.”

“Then drinks.” He glanced at his watch. “At six. At Thai Bistro. It’s down the street.”

She frowned.

“You do still like Thai food?”

“What difference does it make? We’re just having drinks.”

“An excellent point.” He forced a smile. “So, we’re on?”

She extended her hand, clearly indicating she wanted him to leave the vault. “Sure. Can’t wait.”

Like spending time with him was torture. To keep his temper in check, he thought of his family’s legacy so closely within his grasp. It had actually been in his grasp a few minutes ago. That gem held answers to his past. He wasn’t letting it go. “Think of the professional contacts you could make with my family and their friends. Don’t you want to spend time with Sophia Graystone’s grandson?”

She pulled the door to the vault closed. The alarm reset automatically, emitting a series of beeps. “Not particularly, no.”

He’d have to see what he could do about changing her mind.

JACINDA SMOOTHED her hand down her hair as she approached the entrance of Thai Bistro. Her heart was pounding ridiculously, and she couldn’t get the image of Gideon’s inviting smile out of her mind. Nor the memory of his hot body, and the amazing things he could do with it.

He’d tempted her beyond her boundaries before. He’d made her forget her goals of earning money for school, of working her way up to a respectable profession and life. He’d dangled the possibility of a life without rules, without structure or—at least she thought at the time—security.

To learn he had all the security—aka dollars—he needed, and then some, was maddening. Infuriating. And, damn it, smart. The fact that he’d lied to an exotic dancer he’d picked up for a two-night stand in Vegas was certainly understandable.

The big questions for her were more profound. Would she have given up her big plans if she’d known about his bank account during those few crazy days? Would she have followed him into the sunset and happily been his arm candy?

Would she have compromised her goals for money?

The fact that she honestly didn’t know made her as edgy and irritable now as it had earlier that morning when Gideon had disclosed his family’s history.

Of course, she’d thoroughly checked out him and his story. After reluctantly confessing her personal history and present regarding Gideon—leaving out the claims about the emerald, since they were too bizarre to consider—she and Andrew had scoured the Internet, hoping beyond reason to find a hole in Gideon’s story, to find doubt that he was the grandson of the infamous Sophia Graystone.

Andrew, with all his high-society connections, had called a friend, who’d called a friend to get the scoop. His people had gleefully confirmed that the rebellious, not-quite-respectable, Indiana Jones–like Gideon Nash was a member of the Graystone dynasty.

Ugh.

Worse, later, when she was alone again she’d found published photos of Sophia wearing the gem that resembled the emerald currently sitting in the Callibro’s Auction House vault. Scheduled to be sold in six days. For millions of dollars.

The Veros family—on record as the current owners of the emerald—and her boss, Mr. Pascowitz, were going to be seriously pissed if Gideon could prove his claims.

Then there was the personal risk to herself and her reputation. She didn’t want her past—of which Gideon was an undeniable part—anywhere near her present. Last year, pictures of her boss’s secretary posing in a beach bikini contest had circulated around the office with much snickering from the men and derisive comments from the women. Shortly thereafter the secretary had been fired for cause—job performance and attendance issues being cited. But in Jacinda’s mind, the photos had precipitated the action.

Just imagine what response pictures of herself in glitter, barely there spandex and fishnets would instigate. The thought made her break out in hives.

The whole business was a damn mess, and yet all Jacinda could think of were hot, wild, inappropriate thoughts about the man causing all the trouble.

The man would be her downfall. She was absolutely certain of it.

As she flung open the door to the restaurant, she reflected on their earlier conversation. She did have plans for dinner.

One of those new spa meals from Lean Cuisine.

But she also had fantasies about spending time with Gideon. And none of them included dinner.

Dessert, maybe.

When her cell phone rang, and she recognized the number as Andrew’s, she answered the call.

“Are you there yet?” he asked.

“Walking in the door.”

“Do you still want me to call in an hour about your urgent appointment?”

“Definitely.”

“You’re weak.”

“And then some.”

“Honey, I would be, too, if that man looked at me the way he looks at you.”

Jacinda sighed. “You’re not helping.”

“Oh, right. Stay strong. Keep your blouse buttoned.”

“Got it.”

“And definitely keep your pants buttoned.”

“I’m wearing a skirt.”

“Well, then—”

“Oh, man, there he is.”

Andrew expelled a lustful sigh. “How does he look?”

“Same as earlier. Jeans. White T-shirt.”

“Lip-smacking, in other words.”

Jacinda’s nipples throbbed. “Yep. Pretty much.”

“Go get ’im.”

She halted on her way to the bar. “Andrew!”

“Right. Don’t get him—at least not physically.” He paused. “Can you get him physically, tell me all the details and still have us maintain the integrity of the auction?”

“Oh, hell. I don’t see how.”

“Still, I’d go for it.”

“You’re supposed to be helping.”

“He is really sexy.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“As long as you call me in the morning!”

More frustrated and nervous than ever, especially knowing Andrew had no intention of calling her later to save her, Jacinda ended the call. Heading toward Gideon, she straightened her shoulders and convinced herself she could be calm and cool in his presence.

The bead of sweat rolling between her breasts belied her forced confidence, but she ignored that, too.

She could keep her job and her respectability while sharing a drink with a sexy guy. Even if that sexy guy could threaten her job and respectability. Even if he decided to play this game dirty and threaten to expose her past unless she helped him get the gem it was her responsibility to protect. Even if that guy added the temptation of another hot night or two, where rules and respectability were stifled by lingering kisses and arousing touches.

Sure, no problem.

3

JACINDA STROLLED toward Gideon as if she didn’t have a care in the world and slid onto the bar stool he pulled out next to him. “Johnnie Walker on the rocks,” she said to the bartender.

The guy’s gaze tracked down her body, presumably taking in her pale blue Chanel suit and expensive leather bag. “That’s not a very prissy drink.”

“I’m not a prissy woman.”

“It’s nice to see a high-powered job and fancy office haven’t completely tamed you,” Gideon said as he returned to his seat.

She smiled slightly and accepted her drink. “No, I guess not.”

“My grandmother would call you a great dame.”

“Would she?” After the research she and Andrew had done all afternoon, she supposed that would be a compliment.

“She’d like you even better if you gave her back her emerald.”

“It’s not mine to give.”

“I’ll prove it belongs to my family.”

“I look forward to it. Let’s table that. Tell me what you’ve been doing the last six years.”

Surprisingly, he agreed to her cop-out, for which she was grateful.

The auction had taken its toll on her stamina, and she needed a distraction from imagining the scandal if Gideon decided to go to the press with his story. Somehow, Mr. Pascowitz would manage to blame any problems on her. She’d seen him throw more than one staff member under the bus when his own back was against the wall.

Setting aside thoughts about her boss, she focused on Gideon. However strange and unsettled his life as a finder of lost legacies seemed to her, he clearly relished every minute. He’d been to exotic places she’d rarely seen pictures of, much less dreamed of exploring. While he poked through antique stores, auction houses, pawn shops and estate sales, he also spent many hours in libraries and at universities doing research.

He’d acquired an impressive art collection and learned to speak four languages. He’d interviewed everyone from royalty to the homeless. He’d located people and things that didn’t want to be found. He’d made sure thieves and swindlers were prosecuted. He returned necklaces, rings and even crowns to elderly, teary-eyed ladies.

“Did they all have blue hair?”

He put on a look of mock insult. “Are you doubting the credibility of my stories?”

“You can certainly spin an excellent tale.” And they were probably true, if exaggerated. “What does your upper-crust grandmother think of her treasure-hunting grandson?”

“She mostly approves.” He grinned. “Though she’d rather I donated more of my finds instead of turning them over to their privileged owners. She especially didn’t like me getting Marcus Capwell’s watch back for him.”

“You mean former Senator Capwell?”

Gideon curled his lip. “That’s him.”

“Why didn’t she want you to get his watch back?”

“He stiffed her for the tab one night after inviting her and her friends to drinks at a club.”

She angled her head in confusion. “She’s ticked at him over a bar tab?”

“It was a ten-thousand-dollar tab.”

“Ah. That would do it. So why did you look for it in the first place?”

“Because I’d hoped the trail would lead to some embarrassing places.”

“And did it?”

He grinned. “Definitely.”

“That’s pretty bloodthirsty.”

He toasted her with his beer bottle. “A good thing to remember when dealing with me.”

She met his gaze directly. “You don’t scare me, Gideon. Nothing does. Not anymore.”

He laid his hand over hers, his thumb covering the pounding pulse point at her wrist. “I never thought you were anything less than absolutely brave. In fact…” He stroked her cheek. “I think you’re pretty amazing.”

She leaned back from his touch and looked away. “Deep down, I’m exactly the same as I was six years ago.”

“A dancer?”

“A survivor.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“Sure it is.”

He inched forward, holding her jaw against his palm. “So, why are you embarrassed?”

“I’m not.” She forced a smile, even as her mind walked again through the mansions she’d visited over the past few years, each containing priceless treasures, each perfect in every decorating detail, each refined and tasteful.

Then she recalled the dingy duplex where she’d grown up: the stove that rarely worked, the stained carpet, the sputtering candles she’d light because the power was cut off every few months. The desperation and sense of being trapped, forever, in poverty.

Gideon lived in the luxurious world; she pretended she had even an inkling of what kind of privilege was like. Gideon owned famous works of art; she still kept her pasties in her underwear drawer.

“Can we talk about something else?” she asked.

His gaze roamed over her face, and she thought he might push, but he surprised her again by nodding. “Seen any good movies lately?”

“Not too many. I’ve been working long hours on the auction.”

“We should go see that new murder mystery.”

She shook her head. “Too dark. I like romantic comedies. That’s what Andrew and I usually see.”

“You do, huh?”

“Yeah. We usually agree on the same hunky actors.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Jacinda laughed at the less-than-excited expression on his face. “Mmm. Maybe not. How about TV shows?”

There they actually agreed on a few, and the conversation reminded her of the qualities she’d seen in him the night they’d met. She hadn’t been attracted to only his smile, charm and gorgeous face. He’d listened when she talked. He was direct and opinionated, confident and understanding.

And hot. Don’t forget very hot.

“What time are your dinner plans?”

“My—” She stopped, remembering suddenly that she’d told him she had previous plans to avoid having dinner with him. A lot of good that did. She’d hoped to avoid the intimacy of a restaurant, the implication of any kind of relationship. But they’d been pretty cozy for the past hour at the bar, and nobody looking at them would mistake them for strangers. The chemistry between them still existed. Maybe even stronger than before because they both knew how good they were together.

That idea should send her scrambling for cover. She was supposed to be remembering that impulsive decisions led nowhere productive. She was supposed to be telling herself her job was at risk. She was supposed to be firmly on the side of the auction house.

Instead, she wanted Gideon.

Maybe it was the stories of his adventures. Maybe it was the reminder of the daring, sexually aware woman she’d been the last time she’d seen Gideon. He forced her to remember that she used to be outgoing. She used to have fun.

These days she was always paranoid about doing or saying the right thing. She focused on advancing her career, on networking with guys instead of appreciating their smile or noticing the breadth of their shoulders in their expensive suits.

In fact, she couldn’t remember the last date she’d been on. Why did doing her job well mean seriously neglecting her personal life?

She’d had relationships with a whopping two guys since leaving Vegas. There were a few itches that a woman needed to scratch every so often and so few men able to oblige.

At least not in the way she wanted.

Most of the guys she met either wanted one night of Playboy-quality sex—complete with toys and video cameras—or they wanted a wife and mother to their children as of yesterday. The typical guy who had partied and screwed around, and now he had the big corner office and important partnership. He wanted the picket fence in Connecticut, complete with a lovely, amiable wife, who’d give dinner parties and laugh at his boss’s jokes.

A lot of women with her background would leap over tall buildings in a single bound in order to get security like that. But the idea of letting somebody else guide her emotional and financial future scared the crap out of Jacinda. The idea of being a trophy wife, spending her life doing charity work and playing tennis, made her want to dart into the speeding traffic down Fifth Avenue.

With Gideon, she knew the sex would satisfy—and then some. But could the sex stay simple and fun? Could she keep him away from her job, and her job away from her past? Sure, he was going to complicate life at work with his emerald ownership claims.

But she wasn’t talking about a relationship. After his claims were either proven or discredited, he’d be gone again.

She’d already blurred the boundaries with him. Back in Vegas she’d slept with Gideon when any personal involvement with a customer could have gotten her fired. The temptation to do it again was palpable…Still, when he’d walked into her office today, she’d gone into a cold sweat worrying her past had caught up with her. Could she live with the constant threat of exposure?

He’d be at the office to launch his emerald claims whether they were involved or not. And maybe those discussions wouldn’t be quite so hostile if—

“That’s some pretty deep thinking going on,” he said, leaning close and breaking in to her argument with herself. “You don’t have dinner plans, do you?”

The no-strings-attached, itch-scratching moments with him were definitely numbered. The ownership issue would be resolved and Gideon would leave.

And she had a really sensitive spot just behind her ear….

She turned her head, relishing the heat of his stare, the interest and honesty in his eyes. “I do if you want to take me somewhere.”

THEY DECIDED to stay at the restaurant.

Within a couple of minutes of speaking to the maître d’, Gideon had arranged for an intimate table in the back corner, where they ordered shrimp and asparagus wraps, coconut soup and shrimp pad Thai.

Everything about tonight reminded him of why he’d been so attracted to her six years ago. Other than the obvious physical attributes—and those were certainly worth mentioning—she was witty, kind and smart as hell.

He loved watching her hair fall across her cheek when she leaned forward. He liked her directness and honesty—especially since he hadn’t been so truthful with her. And every time her eyes sparkled with laughter, he felt an answering tug of pleasure in his groin.

With each moment in her presence, he wanted her more. And with each moment that passed he forgot his mission, why he’d sought her out in the first place.

Emerald? Who needed a stinking emerald?

“So what are your plans, Gideon Nash?” Jacinda asked, holding her wineglass as she leaned back in the booth and the waiter whisked away the plates. “Other than the emerald, why are you in New York?”

“My plans are to recover the emerald. That’s the only reason I’m in the city.”

“And say you get it. What then?”

“Off to the next adventure.”

She snapped her fingers. “Like that.”

“My bag is always packed, just like I told you in Vegas. That hasn’t changed.” He lowered his voice. “I didn’t lie about everything.”

“You just lied about the money.”

He winced. Being reminded he’d been an ass wasn’t exactly normal date conversation.

Is that what this is? A date?

If so, where was it going from here? He knew where he’d like it to go, but jumping into bed again was chemical and instinctive. And fun. Tempting. Wildly satisfying.

But was it wise?

“Your family is here,” she said, breaking in to his thoughts. “You don’t live here?”

He shrugged, feeling the familiar weight of family obligations and opinions on his shoulders. “I live on the road. But I do own a brownstone in Midtown. I’m staying there while I’m here. It won’t be long.”

She ran her finger around the rim of her crystal glass, her relaxed posture opposing the tension that had jumped between them. “Confident you’ll get back the emerald?”

“It’s mine,” he said simply.

“Mmm. So you say.”

“You think I’d try to swindle you?” He narrowed his eyes. “To take something that’s not mine? You think I’d lie to benefit—” He stopped when her eyebrows rose into her hairline.

“Yourself?” She gave him a confident, half smile. “Especially since you’ve never lied before.”

He bowed his head. No escaping that one. “I was a jerk before. I should have told you the truth. I apologize again. I didn’t put any faith in you. Or in us. It’s no wonder you didn’t want to go away with me.”

“When would you have told me?”

Laying his hands on the table, he linked his fingers. He felt ashamed and unsure, two emotions he rarely experienced. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“I don’t think either of us thought beyond the moment that weekend.”

“A big part of the problem.”

She nodded. “We jumped over several steps in the dating game.”

He slid closer, then drew his finger down her thigh. “True. But fast isn’t always bad.” He grinned. “Not that I’m opposed to slow and easy.”

Her eyes widened, then she smiled. “I remember.”

“And I recall developing a taste for champagne that I hadn’t had before.”

“You licked it off nearly every inch of my body. I assumed you loved the stuff.”

He slid his hand over her knee, then drew it up, along her thigh and under her skirt. “I loved the taste of it on your skin.”

Her breathing hitched. She set her wineglass on the table.

His heart hammering, he leaned closer. His forehead brushed her hair as he spoke softly into her ear. “You have the softest skin.”

“You think so?” she asked, her voice high and strained.

His pulse jumped. The wild attraction he still felt was reciprocated. He wasn’t the only one veering way off his professional path and reliving their sensual history.

He glided his fingers up and down her thigh. Her skin heated beneath his touch. Her breathing quickened. He remembered those long, lean legs wrapped around his hips. He remembered them glistening with sweat, twitching in sensual need.

Drawing his hand higher on her leg, he moved closer to the juncture between her thighs. With the tip of his finger, he teased the edge of her panties. “I could make you forget your stress at work, even the conflict between us.” He slid his finger into her warmth, finding the button that would send her soaring easily and quickly.

She gripped the edge of the table. “Gideon…”

“Is that a warning or encouragement?” He stroked his finger up, then down. He moved so slowly he hoped her eyes were crossed. He couldn’t tell, of course, because she’d closed her lids.

To shut him out, or to better concentrate on the pleasure he was giving her?

The heat spilling off her body, pulsing against his fingers, had him holding his breath, anticipating her next sigh.

They were in a busy restaurant, staff and other customers just feet away, but that all fell away. There was only her. The woman he couldn’t seem to forget. The woman he, again, couldn’t resist.

“I think we should pick up where we left off,” he said quietly in her ear.

She gasped, her thighs clenching around his hand. “Wh—where was that?”

“Naked and horizontal.”

4

JACINDA’S EYES popped open. She clamped her thighs together, which only served to trap Gideon’s hand against her bare flesh.

She ground her teeth as the tension building low in her belly jumped another notch.

Naked? Horizontal?

Who needed that? She was on the verge of orgasm with all her clothes on in a busy restaurant.

Not a good move—personally or professionally. Gideon was, no doubt, attempting to seduce the emerald out of her. Or at least persuade her to help him get it away from the documented owners.

She was nothing more to him.

Part of her knew giving in to the pleasure he could bring was impulsive, unethical and cheap. And part of her just didn’t give a damn.

That was Jacy Powers talking.

She reminded the respectable Jacinda that it didn’t do any good to run from the past. Old mistakes and experiences always found you just when you thought you’d moved, even risen above.

Great, now I’m referring to myself in the third person.

“Shall I continue?” Gideon’s silky voice whispered in her ear.

“Certainly not here.”

Oh, boy, now I’m talking like Jacinda and thinking like Jacy.

“My place?” he asked. “Or yours?”

She bit her lip. “Mine’s closer.”

He urged her chin around so they were face-to-face. “Is that an invitation?”

Trembling with need, doubt and anticipation, she nodded.

“I’ll pay the check.”

As he slid out of the booth, she nearly called him back—and not just because he’d moved his hand from between her legs. Surely sophisticated Manhattan career women didn’t let guys feel them up in public, then invite them to their apartments for a hot, one-night stand they absolutely knew they’d regret in the morning.

If you knew you were making a mistake as you did something, shouldn’t you stop yourself?

Apparently not, because when Gideon reappeared at the table and held out his hand, she took it and followed him out of the restaurant.

Was she drunk?

She rolled her head from side to side to check for dizziness.

When the world didn’t spin and she continued to walk easily in her three-inch heels, she figured she’d passed that test. But was that a good thing?

She felt as if she were sleepwalking or dreaming, so she could explore what she wanted without consequences, because she’d wake up and come to her senses at any moment. But she didn’t want to wake up. And she’d just have to pay the price for whatever came tomorrow. She’d spent years being practical and smart. For once, for just one night, she wanted to let go, she wanted to remember what it was like to be wild and free.

Gideon hailed a cab, and they climbed into the backseat.

“Where to?” the cabbie asked.

Jacinda looked at Gideon. And, wow, he was something to look at. Piercing green eyes, silky-looking black hair, strong jaw.

Suddenly she realized her affliction, the judgment-robbing disease she’d come down with in the last few hours.

Gideonitis.

She was under the spell of Gideon Nash.

She mumbled her address while continuing to smile like a fool at the man next to her.

He angled his head. “Are you okay?”

See, he’s sharp and intuitive as well as gorgeous.

Clearly, he knows something’s off about me.

“Ah, I’m not sure,” she said.

“What can I—”

“Kiss me. I need you to kiss me.”

“Now?”

Jacinda glanced at the rearview mirror and briefly met the interested cabbie’s gaze. He’d no doubt seen and heard stranger things.

“Definitely,” she said, her stomach shaking with renewed doubts.

Gideon leaned in, cupping her chin in his hand as his lips touched hers for the first time in six years.

His mouth captured hers with confidence, his tongue sliding inside to taste and arouse. The electricity and power between them sparked to life with renewed energy. The cab disappeared, the city lights and the street noise fell away. She felt only the warm, spicy taste of Gideon.

She clenched the front of his shirt. His heart beat rapidly beneath her fist.

When he touched her everything seemed right and wonderful. Her doubts fell away, anticipation grew, desire rose. If she paused to think, she might change her mind about jumping into bed with Gideon.

“Better?” he asked softly against her mouth.

She sighed blissfully. “Much.”

And she knew she didn’t want to change her mind. She wanted to feel, to soar.

But she wanted those things on her terms.

She wanted to be safe from relationships that never seemed to go anywhere, or forced her to choose and compromise areas she didn’t want to change. She knew her hesitancy for a real relationship was rooted from her years in uncertain poverty, then later cemented when she danced.

She didn’t trust men.

Their smiles and their promises of security always faded, or turned out to be lies from the start. Her mother’s succession of boyfriends had been a revolving door of hope and heartbreak, and Jacinda always swore she’d never fall into that trap. She’d be practical.

She’d rely only on herself.

So, while her friends would advise caution with Gideon, and Andrew would be jealous, she knew Gideon was simply safe. He wouldn’t require a commitment or emotional attachment. He wouldn’t promise things he had no intention or capability of delivering.

Tonight, she intended to have her cake, eat it and not count the calories.

AS GIDEON HELPED Jacinda from the cab in front of her apartment building, he stared at the long, slender length of her legs.

His heart jumped. His erection swelled.

He paid the cabbie in a haze of need and expectation. He ignored his practical side—well, really it was a practical section, a very small section—telling him he and Jacinda were going too fast. Reminding him that spontaneous moves hadn’t led anywhere productive last time.

Thankfully, the other ninety-five percent of him remembered the two nights of hot sex and told his practical section to pipe down ASAP.

Look into her eyes, not at her legs, his practical section insisted as they stepped into the elevator. Doesn’t something seem not quite right?

Before that idea could take hold, Jacinda came to his rescue. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair. “I’ve wanted to do that all night.”

He slid his arms around her waist. “Keep doing anything you like.”

She kissed his throat, her hands gliding through his hair, her breasts brushing his chest. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the sensations flowing through his body, on the sexual friction they created.

How had he survived so long without touching her? Both the ache and the satisfaction were equally prized. No other woman had made him appreciate the journey to fulfillment more.

When the elevator doors opened, he spun Jacinda into the hall, keeping her tight against his body and hoping none of her neighbors were wandering around.

“What number?” he asked against her cheek.

“Seventeen twenty-one. To the right.”

They moved in that direction, and as she unlocked her door, he grasped her waist, pulling her backside against his erection. He sucked in a quick breath of pain and pleasure. It was a sweet kind of torture to touch her, but not touch her completely.

He wanted to press her against the door, release himself from his jeans and slam his way to ecstasy.

Would this new, sophisticated Jacinda slap his face or hitch her legs around his hips and hold on for the ride? The fact that he couldn’t anticipate her reaction when he thought he knew her well was both intriguing and frustrating.

Once she pushed open the door, she grabbed his hand and tugged him inside. He absorbed a brief glimpse of a sunken living room, ultramodern furniture in lots of silver and white and an excellent view of Central Park before she tugged him down a short hallway to her bedroom.

The room was awash in turquoise and green, reminding him of the Caribbean Sea. The sleek, almost sterile lines from the other room were gone, replaced by a wavy-patterned bedspread and delicate, sun-bleached seashells arranged in a crystal bowl on the nightstand.

He’d just caught a glimpse of a picture of Jacinda and a blond-haired man posing in the shallows of the ocean when her bra hit the carpeted floor.

“Are we—”

“We’re getting naked,” she said, planting her hands on her hips as his gaze took in her naked-to-the-waist lushness.

Sweat broke out on his brow. Dear heaven, he’d somehow forgotten how amazing her body was.

She angled her head. “It’s better naked, don’t you think?”

“Ah, it’s pretty good no matter what.”

She grinned. “True.” She flopped back on the bed, her elegant skirt hitched halfway up her thighs.

And just like that, with her nearly naked, her eyes glittering and need clearly stamped on her face, he wanted to slow things way down.

He hadn’t gone to Jacinda to charm his way into her bed—though that might have been a secondary thought after he’d acquired the emerald. He’d hoped their past would have established a familiarity and sense of trust that he wouldn’t have gotten from another auction house staff member.

He knew Jacinda. He knew she was honest and determined, smart and professional. He admired her guts, ambition and resourcefulness to use all the assets she possessed to get what she wanted—namely, her body and her brains.

He hadn’t counted on her being ashamed of her past, though why the hell that hadn’t occurred to him was, at the moment, a complete mystery of idiocy.

In retrospect, he wished he could have marched into a stranger’s office, said the name Sophia Graystone and waited for them to bow at his feet. As he watched Jacinda crook her finger toward him, he realized he’d tangled his past and present, his professional and personal lives far too intimately.

Jump her! his body urged. Who cares how complicated things get?

He waited, for just a second, for his practical section to argue.

Silence.

Grinning, he dropped to the bed beside her. He laid on his side and drew his finger down the center of her bare chest. “We don’t have to be in a hurry, do we?”

She rolled over on top of him, straddling his hips. “Sure we do.”

“That works, too,” he said, reaching for the zipper at the back of her skirt as she shoved his T-shirt up.

When she’d bared his chest, she leaned down…kissed his neck, then quickly moved to his nipples. She flicked her tongue across each one in turn, shooting flames of pleasure to his groin.

All he could manage to do was grip the comforter in his fists and arch into her touch.

Being the determined, multitasking woman she was, she managed to release the buttons on his jeans, even as her mouth and tongue continued their exploration of his chest. She rendered him helpless and needy so quickly. His senses were bombarded by her, the feel of her hot, bare skin against his, her breasts brushing his chest, her palms skimming his sides.

Her scent washed over him, like coconut milk, but also slightly tangy like the sea. The only sounds in the room were the combination of their breathing and the occasional horn from the street outside. But he imagined hearing the crashing ocean waves. He’d like to see her in the sand, digging—

His breath froze in his chest as she released his erection, cupping him and running her hand up and down its rigid length. His heart pounded like a chugging freight train.

“Oh, man.”

Jacinda’s face hovered above his. “I think I remember where this goes.”

He croaked out a chuckle. He wasn’t going to last long if she kept doing that. “If you forget, I’ll remind you.”

She released him suddenly, and he sat up. “Hey, where—”

She’d scooted to the bedside table, where she pulled out a foil-wrapped condom. She tossed it to him, then wriggled her way out of her skirt and panties.

He stopped himself from asking her to move slower, to draw out the striptease. But since his erection was throbbing impatiently, he rolled on the protection.

The moment she was naked, he grabbed her arm and tugged her onto her back, then positioned himself between her legs.

“My stamina isn’t great. I’ve spent the last four months in the Andes.”

“No sex in four months?”

“None.”

She smiled. “I’ll be happy to get you back in the swing of things.” She grabbed his hips and pulled him deep inside her.

His breath released in a whoosh, and he lay still for a moment, absorbing the pulsing beats of their hearts, relishing the heat and closeness.

But his body didn’t want quiet reflection, it wanted to move. He lifted his hips, then sank deeper inside, earning a throaty moan of approval from Jacinda. He continued moving with as much control as he could manage, desperately holding back the urge to quicken his thrusts, to drive toward completion without any finesse or gentleness.

Then she wrapped her legs around his hips and arched her back, her eyes fluttering closed, her breathing growing shallow and labored. Her obvious pleasure increased his own. He longed to draw out both of their satisfaction, but his muscles were tight from holding back. His body was screaming at him.

He moved his hands underneath her, shifting the angle of her hips, penetrating in a different way, a way he distinctly remembered her enjoying quite a bit.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.