“I want you to come with me,” Tracker said

He took Sophie’s hand, leading her away from the rest of the party guests. His gaze never left hers as he slipped a card out of his pocket and gave it to her.

She glanced down at the card, recognizing it as the “quickie on demand” coupon she’d given him earlier. “Here?” she croaked.

“And now. Those are the rules of the game as you explained them to me, right?”

“Tracker, I—”

“Are you having second thoughts about our deal?” he asked as he led her down a hallway and opened the first door. It was a powder room, with barely enough room for one person between the toilet and the sink. He led her inside, and suddenly the term “close quarters” took on a whole new meaning.

“I’m collecting on that coupon, princess. Unless you want to back out?”

Sophie’s chin shot up. “I don’t back out of agreements.”

Tracker nodded, stepping back against the door. “Then I think you should take off your panties….”

Dear Reader,

Sophie Wainwright and Tracker McBride fascinated me from the moment they appeared on the pages of my first Blaze novel—Intent To Seduce. The rich “Princess” and the “Shadow” who had the challenging job of protecting her struck sparks off each other even when they were separated by a continent. So how could I not write their story?

The last person in the world that Sophie wants to be attracted to is Tracker McBride. As chief of security for her brother’s business, he’s made it clear that he thinks of her only as a job. For one whole year he’s kept his professional distance, watching over her from afar. Sophie’s problem? She hasn’t forgotten what it felt like to have Tracker’s hands on her—even briefly. How can she forget when he touches her more and more intimately each night in her dreams? She can’t even date other men without seeing Tracker, feeling Tracker. Sophie’s solution? If she’s ever going to get her love life back to normal she has to get Tracker McBride out of her dreams and into her bed for real. And to do that, she’ll play any sensual game it takes!

I hope you enjoy watching these two very reluctant people play the riskiest game of all. Let me know. You can write to me at P.O. Box 718, Fayetteville, NY 13066, or visit my Web site—www.carasummers.com.

Enjoy,

Cara Summers

Game for Anything
Cara Summers

MILLS & BOON

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To my editor Brenda Chin—writing coach, book doctor

and muse. Thanks for always being able to see what

I’m trying to do—and then making me go back and do it!

Contents

Prologue

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

Epilogue

Prologue

“YOU’RE SAFE NOW, Princess.”

Sophie’s fear streamed away the moment she heard him. He would set her free.

The cloth covering her eyes and mouth prevented her from seeing him, from saying his name, but she recognized his voice, his touch. Just the barest brush of his fingers along her throat made her skin burn and her blood heat.

In the three days since her kidnapping, she’d known that Tracker McBride would come for her. She’d steeled herself against his anger for tricking him and making him chase her across the country. But his hands were gentle, his voice soothing.

“Don’t be afraid.”

He would touch her now—to make sure she was all right. The anticipation of it made her tremble. The reality of it, the press of those long, lean fingers as they moved over her shoulders and down the length of her arms, left every inch of her skin quivering and then burning.

Her response was always like this—basic, primitive. He touched and she wanted. Desire twisted into a hard knot, and her body began to move, lifting, aching to get closer.

When he gripped her waist, heat, a searing flame, streamed through her. Muscles deep inside of her clenched and her hips arched upward. More. But his hands moved on, continuing their slow, thorough journey over her hips and down her legs. Torturing her.

“I’ll have you free in a minute,” he said as he removed the blindfold and the gag. “Don’t open your eyes right away.”

The moment her arms were untied, she wrapped them around him and held him tight. Safe. Now he would free her from the terrible heat he’d built inside of her. He had to. He stroked one hand down her hair, then she felt his fingers slip beneath her chin and lift it.

“Please…” She wasn’t even sure it was her voice that had said the word. But his mouth brushed against hers and his tongue moistened her lips.

“Now.” With a will of its own, her body melted, molding itself to every hard plane and angle of his. It wasn’t enough. She wanted him right where that deep, demanding ache tugged at her very center. Threading her fingers through his hair, she arched against him. Soon…please.

Finally, when she thought she might die of the wanting, his mouth grew harder, more insistent, and his hand moved to the inside of her thigh.

Yes. Almost. Need built razor sharp as she arched against him, urging him on. The tension inside of her built, twisted, tightened. When his fingers finally slipped into her, the climax moved through her at once, building higher and higher until, deep inside of her, pleasure exploded.

It was the sound of her own voice crying out that shot Sophie out of the dream. For a moment, she lay there, shuddering in the aftermath of the release that had nearly shattered her. She was gripping the bed-clothes in her fists, sweat was cooling on her skin and her breath was coming in short pants. Opening her eyes, she saw that Chess, her cat, was peering down at her.

“I’m fine,” she murmured, releasing a fistful of sheet so that she could run her hand over her large, plump guardian angel.

The cat snorted in disbelief.

Sophie sighed. Chess had been a gift from her brother, Lucas, when she’d moved out of the family home into her living quarters over One of a Kind, the antique and specialty store she ran in Georgetown. They’d been together for five years now, and Chess’s main joy in life seemed to stem from making her be honest with herself.

“All right. All right.” Sitting up, Sophie ran a hand through her hair. “I’m not fine.” How could she be when the best sex—the only sex—she’d had in over a year was occurring only in her dreams?

And the dream was being triggered by a man who annoyed the hell out of her in real life. Tracker McBride, or as she called him, “The Shadow.” Two years ago her brother had hired him to head up the security at Wainwright Enterprises, but as far as Sophie could tell, Tracker’s mission statement read: “Keep the spoiled, misfit sister from destroying Wainwright Enterprises.”

The inescapable fact that she’d come close to doing that twice now—by hooking up with fortune hunters who were after the Wainwright money—humiliated and infuriated her. Having her weakness and stupidity exposed by a complete stranger had only added salt to the wound. Tracker McBride now knew what everyone else in the family knew: she just wasn’t good enough to be a Wainwright.

Tracker’s continued surveillance of her during the past year only confirmed that her brother still didn’t trust her. Every time she went out at night to meet friends, she could sense Tracker’s presence. At times, she was sure that she could feel his gaze moving over her, and the sensation was so intense that he might as well have been touching her. But he never came close enough for her to spot him.

Except in her dreams.

“Damn it.” Rising, she scooped Chess up from the bed and headed toward the kitchen “I’ve got to get free of him.”

Chess snorted again.

“No, you don’t.” Settling the cat on the counter, she pointed an accusing finger at him. “I’m speaking the truth. For the past year, I’ve been having dreams about this phantom lover who never comes near me in real life. And as long as I have him, I don’t want anyone else.”

Chess made no comment.

“It’s pathetic.” Taking a beer out of the refrigerator, she poured it into a saucer and set it in front of him. Then she grabbed her vice of choice—cold pizza.

“I certainly don’t want John Landry.” There. She’d said it out loud.

Chess rubbed against her arm.

“You think you’re a regular truth serum, don’t you?”

Chess returned to his beer.

Glancing down at the pizza, Sophie realized she’d lost her appetite. She’d been dating John Landry for two weeks, and he was everything she should want in a man—good-looking, sweet, attentive and rich enough so that Lucas wouldn’t have to worry he was after the Wainwright money. He even shared her passion for the antique business.

The problem was, two weeks of dating him had not freed her from her dreams of Tracker. If tonight was any example, dating John had only intensified her desire for The Shadow.

She put the pizza back in the refrigerator untouched.

“I’m going to have to dump John.”

Chess’s silence indicated his agreement.

“Rejection sucks.” She’d experienced enough of it from her parents that she didn’t like doing it to anyone. But it wasn’t fair to keep dating John Landry. Even now it was difficult for her to conjure up an image of him. The minute she thought she’d captured his blond hair and lean, aristocratic face, the features blurred into the more roughly hewn cheekbones and dark unruly hair of Tracker McBride.

“Damn the man!” She had to stop thinking about him.

The moment Chess lapped up the last drop of beer, she scooped him up and carried him to the couch. “Movie time.” With any luck she’d find an old classic on a cable station that would distract her, then lull her into a dreamless sleep.

After two minutes of dedicated channel surfing, she located one of her favorites, To Catch a Thief. Settling back against the cushions, she watched Grace Kelly drive a convertible up into the hills of Monte Carlo with Cary Grant at her side. The woman was on a mission. She wanted Cary, and she was going to get him.

Sophie could identify with Grace. She’d always thought of herself as a strong, determined woman, willing to take risks—before she’d taken one too many and gotten herself kidnapped. Thank God, she’d been rescued by Tracker McBride.

Cary Grant was definitely worth wanting. When the movie was made, he’d been at his prime, and the character of the handsome, dangerous jewel thief had suited him to a T. He reminded Sophie a little of Tracker. Both had that air of danger and mystery about them.

All she really knew about The Shadow was that he and Lucas had flown missions together in the service, missions that Lucas would never talk about. Cary Grant’s character had secrets, too. And there was one more thing that reminded her of Tracker—the reformed jewel thief in the movie didn’t want to have anything to do with the rich, spoiled American that Grace was playing.

Of course, that hadn’t slowed Grace down one bit. Plus the whole time she was seducing Grant’s character on-screen, she’d been equally busy offscreen, nabbing herself a prince. Sophie was willing to bet that the woman hadn’t broken a sweat doing either.

Cool, smart, determined. Sophie had to admire someone like that. Eyes narrowing, she watched Grace Kelly open a picnic basket and laugh teasingly at something Cary said.

Sophie was going to see Tracker at the anniversary party tomorrow. Lucas was recreating every detail of their wedding for his wife, Mac—and Tracker wouldn’t dare stay away. He’d been the best man. Sophie’s mind raced. She could invite John Landry to go with her—and why not Carter Mitchell, too? He managed the gallery next to her shop, and he wouldn’t mind doing her a favor. If she arrived with two men, Tracker might… No.

“No, I am not, I repeat, not thinking of seducing Tracker McBride.”

Chess growled deep in his throat, his disbelief clear.

“Shut up.” But the cat was right as usual. She was thinking of doing just that. Why should Grace have all the fun? And why should Sophie spend another night just having Tracker in her dreams?

Being a good girl and dating the kind of men that she knew her brother would approve of hadn’t worked. Maybe the only way to break free from the trap she found herself in was to seduce the man who held her there….

1

“LUCAS, WILL YOU TAKE this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Sophie blinked back a tear as her brother said yes. She’d never thought of Lucas as being romantic, but marriage had changed him.

“Mac, will you take Lucas to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Sophie blinked again as her best friend repeated her vow. As the maid of honor, Sophie stood in attendance behind the bride, elbow to elbow with the best man, Tracker McBride. It was bad enough that every pore in her body seemed to be aware of him—she was not going to cry in front of him!

“By the power invested in me…”

Sophie sniffed as a tear slid down her cheek. The game plan she’d come up with to grab Tracker’s attention was not going well. It hadn’t mattered one bit that she’d arrived with two men in attendance. The Shadow hadn’t appeared until it was time to escort her from the patio outside Lucas’s office to the trellis in the rose garden. And all it had taken was the brief, impersonal press of his hand on the small of her back to reawaken her fantasy of having his hands touch every part of her. Just thinking about it had her skin feeling hot and icy at the same time.

Sophie blinked away a second tear. Damn it! Grace Kelly hadn’t cried in front of Cary Grant. She’d been all smiles and champagne picnics and dogged determination. More importantly, she’d had a game plan that worked.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

When Lucas and Mac turned to embrace each other, Sophie felt the second tear slide down her cheek. They shared what she’d always wanted—that closeness with a person you loved and who loved you back.

Hoping that no one would notice, she raised a hand slowly, intending to wipe the tears away. Tracker’s arm brushed against hers when he stepped closer and pressed a handkerchief into her hand, and she felt heat streak right down to her toes.

“You okay, Princess?”

Okay? How could she be okay when her insides had become as liquid as the tears running down her face? And when the man who was responsible was treating her like a kid sister? Dabbing at her eyes, she managed a nod.

Wasn’t that the story of her life? The men who wanted to seduce her were after her money, and the one man she wanted to seduce her was perfectly content to merely watch over her like a protective older brother.

Blinking rapidly, Sophie willed the tears to stop. She’d come here to change that. If plan A—making Tracker jealous—had been a bust, she’d just have to come up with another one. Quick.

As she watched her brother and her best friend turn to face the applause of their guests, she stepped to the side and, for a moment, let her eyes meet Tracker’s. When a jolt moved through her right down to her toes, she waited a beat, then two, for her system to stabilize. Dressed all in black, he exuded an air of mystery and danger. And sex—raw, primitive and irresistible.

She was in trouble. It was one thing to plan a seduction in the abstract and quite another to put it into action when just looking at him turned her knees to jelly.

And it was just her luck that he was a triple threat kind of guy. First, he had a great body, strong and athletic. Second, he had a great mouth. It was better not to look at it too long. And then there were his eyes and the way he looked at her—as if he knew all her secrets and was just waiting for her to make a move so that he could counter it.

It made her want to do something, anything that he wouldn’t expect.

That was the key. Drawing in a deep breath, she stiffened her spine. She had to think of something he wouldn’t expect, something subtle, sneaky. The challenge sent a little ripple of anticipation through her.

“Hey, you two,” Lucas said.

With a start, Sophie tore her eyes away from Tracker’s and glanced at her brother. He and Mac had already started to make their way down the “aisle” formed by the guests.

“Stay close,” Lucas continued, once he had their attention. “We’re going right to the dance floor just as we did at the wedding.”

Yes, Sophie decided as she walked with Tracker toward the platform that had been set up for dancing. A dance was a good start. And maybe an innocent little game…

A DANCE. That’s all it was. Just a polite, social gesture—one of the many rituals that Lucas was determined to repeat for his bride. That’s what Tracker told himself as he steered Sophie onto the dancing platform. It had been a year since he’d held the Princess in his arms, a year since he’d decided that he had to keep his distance from her. However much he thought he’d prepared himself, he couldn’t prevent his body from hardening in anticipation of holding her, the reaction so automatic it was as if he had already been intimate with her.

And he had been very intimate with her in the fantasies that had fueled his dreams every night for the past year. A few of them flickered at the edge of his mind as the music began. Then her hand was in his, pressed palm to palm, and she raised the other one to rest on his shoulder. They touched nowhere else, but he could imagine her strong, slender fingers brushing over his skin, and flames licked along his nerve endings at the thought.

Fantasies were all he would ever have with Sophie Wainwright, Tracker reminded himself. Hardly a day went by that he didn’t review the reasons why he’d resolved to steer clear of her. First off, she was his boss’s sister—a boss who happened to be his best friend and the closest thing to family he’d ever known. Having an affair with Sophie Wainwright was out of the question. And anything else was impossible. They came from different worlds. Only in fairy tales did the princess and the knight who guarded her believe they might have anything more.

But she was close now, and each time the movements of the dance brought their bodies into contact, the hard knot of desire tightened inside of him. One thing was clear. He couldn’t control his response to her any more than he’d been able to keep himself entirely away from her.

Lucas had asked him to keep an eye on her after the kidnapping. There were plenty of men Tracker could have assigned to watch over her. But he hadn’t been able to give up watching over her himself.

That one simple fact worried him. Developing an iron-willed control over his emotions was one of the few things in his life he was proud of. His father had been a violent man, and Tracker knew that he’d inherited some of those tendencies. The work he’d done for the government had proved it. He couldn’t allow anyone to get too close, especially not Sophie, who threatened his control as no woman ever had before.

Even now he couldn’t seem to prevent himself from drawing her closer and torturing himself with the brush of her body against his. Each time she shifted, he felt the movement, along with an ache that began to grow deeper and sharper within him.

He wanted Sophie. To have her this close and not be able to take more was sheer torture.

“It’s just not fair,” Sophie said.

Her statement so clearly echoed his own thoughts that for a second Tracker wondered if she could read his mind.

“What isn’t fair?” he asked, glancing down. In that first moment of looking into those amber-colored eyes of hers, his mind went completely blank. All he could see, all he could absorb, was Sophie. She had the finest damn face—fair skinned, oval. This close, he could see what he never saw in his fantasies: there were flaws in that pale, almost translucent, skin. A sprinkle of freckles across her nose, the faintest scar on her chin… A man might be fooled into thinking she was delicate if he didn’t notice the stubbornness in the strong line of her jaw.

Then his gaze fastened on her mouth. Her lips were parted, moist…and moving. He gave his head a quick shake to clear it when he realized she was talking to him.

“…agree with me?”

A short, balding man spun by, jostling against them and nearly losing the tall woman in his arms. For the first time, Tracker became aware that other couples had joined them on the dance floor. The beat of the music had picked up, too. How long had he been holding Sophie and fantasizing?

“Well, don’t you?” she asked.

She was smiling at him. Tracker narrowed his eyes. The Princess didn’t do that very often, and it made him wary. “Agree with you about what?”

“That it’s simply not fair. You know everything about me, and I know next to nothing about you.”

“You know everything you need to know about me.”

Sophie shook her head. “I don’t even know your real name. Lucas says you’re called Tracker because in the service there wasn’t anything you couldn’t track. I don’t know where you came from, either. Why don’t we play a little game?”

Tracker frowned. “What kind of a game?”

“Oh, stop being so suspicious. I’m suggesting a game of twenty questions, and we’ll take turns. You ask me a question and then I ask you one.”

Tracker studied her as he steered her nearer the edge of the dance platform. He’d learned a lot about her when she’d donned a wig and led him on a merry chase cross-country last year, and she was definitely up to something. There was an unmistakable gleam of mischief in her eyes that he couldn’t help but respond to. “What happens if I don’t want to answer a particular question?”

“You can pass. But you have to pay a penalty, of course. Let’s say…something simple to begin with…” Pausing, she tapped a finger on his chest. “I know. If you don’t answer the question, the penalty is a kiss. What do you say? Are you game?”

No. He should say no. But his body was already on fire with the thought of lowering his mouth to hers, of taking just one taste. His hands had already gone to her waist. Her lips were only inches from his, and…

No. He should end this right now, simply set her aside and walk away. While he was trying to get his body to follow orders, she rose on her toes and her mouth was even closer. “I’ll make it easy for you.”

The whisper of her breath on his skin was nearly his undoing.

“You can go first. Ask me anything,” she invited.

He couldn’t imagine the snake in the Garden of Eden being any more persuasive. He could feel his blood draining from his head.

“I’ve got it. You’ve been following me all over Georgetown—every single time I’ve gone out with John Landry. I’ll bet there’s something you want to know about him—something that even you haven’t been able to uncover. Wouldn’t you like to know what my plans are so that you can tell Lucas? Aren’t you wondering if I’m in love with him?”

“Are you in love with him?” The question slipped out before he could prevent it. It had been eating away at him like acid since she’d first started dating John Landry. Everything about the man had checked out. He came from wealth, the steady, deep-pocket kind that was handed down from one generation to another. His family tree was good, too; on his mother’s side, he was related to an earl. Sophie had met him on one of her buying trips, and he was interested in antiques. In short, he was perfect for her. Tracker had told Lucas as much.

Sophie’s lips curved into a smile. “I’m going to pass on that one.”

“Pass?”

“I choose not to answer the question. So you can collect your penalty.”

Now there was a mixture of amusement and recklessness in her eyes—and something else that had his body growing even harder. “You weren’t going to answer any question I asked, were you?”

She grinned at him. “That’s another question and you haven’t even collected the penalty for the first one. Unless…” The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable. “You’re too much of a coward to collect?”

“You’re playing with fire,” he murmured as he tightened his arms around her and pressed her closer until their bodies were in contact from thigh to chest. He could have sworn that he felt her soften against him, one tantalizing degree at a time. The pulse at her throat fluttered frantically as he watched those incredible amber eyes darken and cloud.

Her response to him stirred him almost unbearably, and it occurred to him that he was the one playing with fire. Her mouth was barely an inch away, her lips parted and moist. His breath was already mingling with hers. One taste, just one, and perhaps he could satisfy the terrible hunger….

Later, he wasn’t sure who closed the distance between them, but suddenly her mouth was brushing against his. For one second, he was sure that the floor shifted beneath his feet, and then the flood of sensations washed every thought out of his mind. Each one was so clear. Her hands burned his skin as they moved from his neck to his hair. Her teeth nipped at his bottom lip and then her tongue tangled with his. He’d dreamed so often of what her taste would be like. But it was different—much sweeter than he’d imagined. And the underlying hint of tartness reminded him of lemonade on a hot summer day. He’d never been able to drink enough of it to quench his thirst. A quick surge of desperation had him changing the angle of the kiss and taking it deeper. There were richer, riper flavors beneath her tongue, and he had to sample them all.

He had to touch her, too. In a quick possessive move, he ran his hands from her waist to the sides of her breasts. He’d waited forever to have his hands on her. She was so much softer than he’d fantasized. His mind clicked off and, instead of analyzing, became filled with the image of that slim, strong body beneath his, meeting him thrust for thrust.

DESPERATION. Sophie felt it in the hard grip of his hands and tasted it in the hard thrust of his tongue. Pleasure streamed through her in a series of sharp little explosions. And she wanted—no, she craved—more.

As a dream lover, he’d been gentle, caring—and he’d never taken her this far. Desire burned as hot and reckless as a bonfire out of control. Her heart pounded as if it might shoot right out of her chest. And her mind—it seemed as if the sensations pouring through her were causing it to short-circuit.

Questions spun in her head in random order. Why had she waited for a whole year to seduce him? Why had she chosen to do it on a dance floor in front of other people? Why, why didn’t they go somewhere else fast?

Inching up even higher on her toes, she tightened her arms around his neck and shifted her hips against him. She felt the moan he gave in response in every pore of her body, and felt the hard press of his erection against her stomach. She was trying to get closer still when his hands gripped her wrists. He untangled her arms from around him, one then the other, and once he’d freed himself, he gently eased her away.

At first she was only aware of the coolness of the air on her skin and a sense of loss. She took a deep breath and found that her lungs were burning. And it didn’t help one bit that Tracker was still looking at her as if he wanted nothing more than to devour her. “Why did you stop?”

“Damn it, Princess. Look around you.”

The moment she did, reality flooded in. She’d completely forgotten that they were standing at the edge of the dance platform, barely an arm’s length away from gyrating couples.

Someone cleared his throat. “Mind if I cut in?”

2

IT TOOK A MINUTE for the question to register in his mind, and another minute for Tracker to gather enough of his scattered wits to recognize the man who’d spoken: John Landry, the perfect match for Sophie Wainwright.

Yes, I mind. The words formed in his mind, but he managed to keep them from reaching his lips. He also managed to keep from shoving the man off the platform. Past Landry’s shoulder, he could see couples were still dancing, and reality slipped fully into focus. One taste of Sophie and he’d nearly lost all control. He’d nearly taken her right on the dance floor. What had he been thinking?

“Sophie? Are you all right?” Landry asked.

Tracker glanced at her. She looked as shaken as he felt. More than anything, he wanted to reach out, draw her into his arms and just hold her. He might have if Landry hadn’t reached out and taken her arm.

“Sophie.” Mac nudged her way past two couples to join them. Giving Landry a quick smile, she said, “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow my maid of honor. Just a little fashion emergency. It won’t take long.” She shot an apologetic smile at both John Landry and Tracker before she grabbed Sophie’s hand and drew her off the dance floor.

Lucas was grinning from ear to ear as he joined the two men. “Mac needs a little help with her wardrobe. Shouldn’t take long, Landry. Then Sophie will be all yours.”

Over my dead body. The thought sprang to Tracker’s mind before he could stifle it. He hoped to God that he hadn’t said it out loud.

“No problem,” John Landry said. “I’ll just help myself to a drink.”

Tracker kept his eyes on the man until he was off the dance floor.

“I sense a little hostility in the air,” Lucas said. “Mac and I are happy that Sophie is dating again, but if you’ve discovered something about Landry I should know…”

Tracker studied his friend, but there wasn’t any sign that Lucas had seen him kiss Sophie. Good, he told himself. The kiss had been a mistake—one he wasn’t going to repeat. “No. Landry’s background checks out. There’s nothing to show that he’s after Sophie’s money.”

Jealousy had a bitter, coppery taste, Tracker discovered. Landry was the perfect man for Sophie; he wasn’t. That simple fact had been a lot easier to live with before he’d kissed her. Ruthlessly, he shoved the memory aside. “Mac looks fine. What’s the emergency?”

Lucas leaned closer. “She has to change because she just popped a button on her skirt. The baby’s growing.”

Tracker studied his friend. There was no mistaking the pride in his voice or the joy in his eyes. A stab of envy pierced him. “You hit the jackpot, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Lucas threw an arm around Tracker’s shoulders. “C’mon, let’s go into my study for a minute and we can drink to that. Plus, I have a surprise—an old friend you and I haven’t seen for a long time.”

“THERE, I might look like I’m wearing pajamas, but I feel much better.” Mac pressed her hands against her rounding stomach as she studied herself in the full-length mirror. She’d changed from her two-piece evening gown into a white silk pantsuit in a stretchy fabric.

“You look beautiful,” Sophie said. “And you have no need to worry that your husband is going to develop a wandering eye just because you’re having a baby. He’s totally besotted with you.”

“It’s mutual.” Mac smiled as tears began to fill her eyes. “And I’m not worried. He’s throwing this party and taking me back to the island where we spent our honeymoon to let me know that even though I look like a blimp, nothing has changed—he’ll be with me forever.”

Sophie felt a knot of envy tighten in her stomach.

“No one has ever done anything like that for me,” Mac continued. “And I have you to thank for it. If you hadn’t pushed me into using my research on Lucas last year…”

Taking Tracker’s handkerchief from her evening bag, Sophie handed it to Mac. “Yeah, well, my motives were not entirely altruistic.”

Sophie remembered quite clearly how she’d felt at the time, fresh from the humiliation of having her brother and Tracker McBride prove to her that her fiancé was only interested in her money. “I used you. I was more than a little annoyed at Lucas, and I thought having you practice your sexual fantasy research on him would get me out from under his constant surveillance.” Plus, it had given her great pleasure to outwit Tracker McBride.

Mac took Sophie’s hands. “You insisted that I use Lucas as a guinea pig to test my research on sexual fantasies because you didn’t want me to practice them on a stranger. Not only that, when I wanted to cut and run, you gave me the courage to stick it out. You were my role model. And I owe you for that.”

“That’s nonsense,” Sophie said. “You and Lucas were made for each other.”

Mac shook her head. “Being meant for each other isn’t enough. Take it from an expert on the subject. I wouldn’t be here today if you hadn’t nudged me into flying out to that island in your place. The last thing Lucas was looking for was a relationship. And I wasn’t even the type he preferred to date. He told me that he’d decided never to marry.” Mac waved a hand. “I wouldn’t have all this if you hadn’t badgered me until I worked up the courage to tell Lucas just why I was there.”

“Mac, I—” Embarrassed, Sophie tried to pull her hands away, but Mac held tight.

“No. I’m going to finish this. It’s my turn to nudge you. I saw you kissing Tracker on the dance floor.”

Everyone must have seen them. “I…that is, we…” She hadn’t let herself think about the kiss since Mac had led her off the dance floor. When Sophie had started the game, she certainly hadn’t expected it to go as far as it had. She’d forgotten everything—the game, her plan, everything but Tracker. “You must be thinking…”

“I’m thinking it’s about time you made a move on him.”

Sophie blinked. “Really?”

“Since he’s one of the most self-disciplined and self-contained men I’ve ever met, I think you were wise to take the initiative. I’m dying to know what you did to get him to kiss you.”

Sophie let out a dry laugh. “Would you believe I asked him to play a game of twenty questions, and the penalty for not answering a question was a kiss?”

“What a great idea,” Mac said with delight, reaching for a small notepad on the nightstand. “I don’t think I have an example of that in my research. Twenty questions,” she murmured as she scribbled on the pad.

“Yeah, well, you better add a warning that the game is best played in private.”

Mac glanced up. “He’s that good a kisser, huh?”

Sophie nodded. “I’m pretty sure some of my brain cells died. I couldn’t even feel my legs when I followed you off of the dance floor. And if Tracker hadn’t all of a sudden ended it, I would have…” A vivid image of exactly what she might have done formed in her mind. “Mac, you might have had an X-rated incident right in the middle of your anniversary party.”

Mac threw back her head and laughed, and in a moment, Sophie joined her. By the time they could both breathe again, they had settled on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t know why I’m laughing,” Sophie said. “Tracker will probably have disappeared again by the time I get back downstairs.”

“I don’t think so,” Mac said. “There’s something between the two of you. I can see it whenever you’re in the same room together.”

“Well, that doesn’t happen often. He avoids me like the plague. And when he’s forced into my company, he treats me like a kid sister.”

“Not tonight. And he never looks at you like a man looks at his sister. Tracker looks at you like he wants to throw you over his shoulder and carry you off somewhere. And he talks about you, you know.”

Sophie met Mac’s eyes. “He does?”

She nodded. “He thinks you’re one of the bravest women he’s ever known. And the smartest.”

Sophie knew that Tracker was a frequent visitor at Mac and Lucas’s house in Georgetown, but he never visited when she was there.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him, too,” Mac said. “After that kiss, you can’t tell me you’re not interested in him, or that you don’t lust after him, at least.”

Sophie drew in a deep breath. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been toying with the idea of having an affair with him. But he’s so…intimidating. I think I have a plan—but then he looks at me and my brains cells start to leak. I’m going to need more than a game of twenty questions with penalties.”

Mac beamed a smile at her as she rose and moved to her dresser. “I have just the thing. In fact, I put some items together as a little first-anniversary gift, bride to maid of honor. I was going to give this to you anyway, since you’ve started dating again. But I’m much more comfortable knowing that you’ll use them on Tracker. He has a weakness for games—especially games of chance.”

“He does?” Sophie looked curiously at the small bag Mac was lifting off the dresser.

Nodding, she sat back down on the bed and reached into the bag. “I was thinking of Tracker when I selected these items. Must have been ESP or something. There, I’ve got it.” She held out a coin to Sophie.

“A quarter?”

“A two-headed quarter. I had a few good times using it with Lucas—until he figured it out.”

Sophie took the coin and examined it. Her mind was already racing with ideas as she glanced back at Mac. “You are a continual surprise to me.”

Mac beamed a smile at her as she pulled out a giant-size pair of dice. “Lucas says the same thing.”

Sophie stared at the dice. Instead of numbers, there were words printed on the sides. One die named actions: stroke, lick, kiss. The other named body parts: back, neck, breasts.

“They’re a lot of fun,” Mac said.

Sophie turned the stuffed dice over in her hands. “Any way you roll them, it looks like a win-win situation to me. Where did you get them?”

“My friend in Paris told me about this great Web site.” She drew a final item out of the bag.

“A deck of cards?” Sophie asked.

“They look like playing cards,” Mac said as she fanned them open. “But they’re really coupons.”

Sophie drew one. “‘This card entitles you to a quickie on demand. You name the time and place.’”

“You give it to the person and it’s up to them to decide where and when to demand the quickie. I pick riskier places than Lucas does. It throws him off balance.”

Sophie grinned. “You’re so good for him, Mac.”

“You’ll be good for Tracker, too. He’s lonely.”

She’d never thought of Tracker as having any vulnerabilities.

“He probably needs a little encouragement. Lucas did. And some of these little toys get amazing results.”

Sophie picked up the final item that Mac took out of the bag, a black velvet ribbon, and drew it through her fingers. “What kind of game do you play with this?”

Mac tilted her head to one side. “Bondage comes to mind, but there’s a tag with an interesting suggestion.”

Sophie glanced at the tag and saw that it even included a diagram with what she suspected was a highly inventive Kama Sutra position. The man was seated, the woman was on his lap—backward—and the ribbon was looped around his… Tilting the card sideways, Sophie narrowed her eyes. Yep, the ribbon was looped around exactly what she’d thought. “Are you sure this is anatomically possible?”

Mac cleared her throat. “Not from personal experience. I think you have to have great powers of concentration to actually… My advice would be to improvise.”

Sophie glanced around the bed at the sex toys that Mac had taken out of the gift bag. “I’m getting that message loud and clear.”

“Tracker would be a safe person to try these out on.”

Safe. Yes. In spite of his air of mystery and danger, she’d never felt safer than when Tracker had held her in his arms that very first day in Lucas’s office. Right after she’d punched her brother.

“Go for it, Sophie.”

“TRACKER, I’d like you to meet Carter Mitchell,” Lucas said as he closed the French doors leading to the patio, and strode into his office. “He’s one of the two men Sophie brought this evening.”

Tracker recognized the name. Carter Mitchell was the manager of the art gallery next door to Sophie’s shop. Since Mitchell’s relationship with Sophie had been strictly business, Tracker had had one of his men run a routine check. Now Tracker caught something familiar in the way Mitchell moved as he rose from his chair. The face was familiar, too. Although it was leaner now and harder, there were still traces of the baby-faced twenty-two-year-old he and Lucas had worked with on their last mission six years ago.

“Chance?” he said, narrowing his eyes as he took in the Italian designer suit, the slim gold bracelet he wore on one wrist and the diamond earring in his left ear. Chance had been the only name he’d known this man by when they’d worked together. They’d called him that because there wasn’t a chance that he wouldn’t take.

“Yeah.” He stepped toward Tracker and extended his hand. “I figured I’d have to come clean the moment I walked through that door with Sophie. The name’s Carter Mitchell now.”

Lucas moved to stand behind his desk. “Seems our old friend Chance is working undercover and he wants to make sure we don’t spoil things for him.”

There was a steeliness in Lucas’s voice that had Tracker withdrawing his hand from Chance’s grasp.

“He took me aside and asked me not to give away his cover,” Lucas said. Then he turned to Chance. “Now, I want an uncut, uncensored version of who you’re working for, and if my sister is involved.”

“I work for a group of insurance companies that want to recover some stolen artifacts from an archeological find in Turkey, most importantly three rare coins. They were in England when they were stolen, and it’s caused quite an international stir. Various investigative agencies including Interpol and the feds have concluded that the stuff’s being brought into this country cleverly concealed in shipments to selected commercial locations. Sophie’s shop had been identified as warranting close surveillance.”

“How long has she been a target of the investigation?” Lucas asked.

“For about a month and a half. That’s when I became the new manager of the art gallery next to her shop. A month ago we got our first big break in the case. An operative on this side got close enough to the head guy to actually buy a piece we believe contained one of the coins. She purchased it at One of a Kind, and she was supposed to deliver it in person to her boss.”

“Supposed to?” Tracker’s eyes narrowed.

“Five minutes after she left the shop, she was the victim of a hit-and-run driver. Two men came out of nowhere. One pushed her into an oncoming car, the other took the package and then both ran.”

“And you’ve waited a month to let me know my sister might be in mortal danger?”

Chance switched his gaze to Lucas. “I swear I didn’t put Sophie together with you until I walked in here tonight. None of us went by our real names when we worked together. Hell, I didn’t even know you had a sister.”

Everything Chance said was true enough. The kind of operations they’d worked on never appeared in the newspapers, and real names were never mentioned.

“And now you’ve decided to date her?” Tracker asked, silently cursing himself. He’d focused his time and the time of his staff checking out the men Sophie went out with even casually. If she’d gone out with Chance sooner, he’d have had a photo of the man standing in front of him, and he’d have known over a month ago that something was up.

Once again, Chance raised his hands, but this time he grinned. “Hey, I’m not her date tonight. I’m just her tag-along gay friend.”

“You’re not gay,” Tracker said.

Chance shrugged. “It’s part of my cover. Telling a woman you’re gay is the quickest way to lower barriers short of taking her to bed—and that’s a little complicated if she’s one of your prime suspects.”

For a moment, Tracker didn’t say a word. He had to get a grip. Anger wasn’t going to help—nor was fear. “Sophie’s not involved in smuggling anything.”

“I eliminated her as soon as I got to know her. She doesn’t have a dishonest bone in her body. And she loves that shop of hers too much to risk it by getting involved in something like this.” Chance’s eyes narrowed and grew colder. “But someone on this side is funneling the goods to the right person.”

“Do you suspect Noah Danforth, her assistant?” Lucas asked.

“It could be him,” Chance replied. “Or it could be any one of her regular customers. She makes them feel like family. All it would take was a word that they were looking for a particular piece, and she’d see that it was set aside. Noah would do the same.”

“So the only thing you really know is that anyone who gets close to the head guy ends up dead.” Lucas turned to Tracker. “I want her out of that shop until the investigation is over.”

“That won’t necessarily keep her safe,” Chance said quickly. “Whoever is behind this is very clever. His nickname is ‘Puppet Master’ because he stays in the background and just pulls the strings. We got close to him three months ago when he shipped the first of the coins. He used a small shop in Connecticut, and the owner was killed in a fire that destroyed his shop. If this guy gets even a hint that Sophie knows anything, she could still be in mortal danger. The only way to really keep her safe is to find out who’s behind this.”

Tracker paced to the French doors. The hell of it was Chance was making sense. From the sounds of it, the bastard behind the smuggling ring didn’t leave any loose ends that could be traced back to him.

“I’ll cancel my trip,” Lucas said.

“No.” Tracker turned to face him. “If you do, Sophie will know something is wrong. And so will Mac.”

“It should all be over in the next week,” Chance said. “Sophie has a shipment due in tomorrow, and the last of the three coins is supposed to be on it. Together, they’re worth more than they are apart. We’re pretty sure that the first coin went to the shop in Connecticut. The second one was picked up by the woman who was hit and killed after she left Sophie’s store. I’ve already offered to help Sophie unpack the delivery and arrange the pieces in the shop. Whoever is behind this will move quickly. All we have to do is trace the piece containing the coin to the buyer, and we’ll have our man.”

Through the glass of the French doors, Tracker’s eyes went unerringly to one couple on the dance floor. Sophie was dancing with John Landry. Silently, he cursed himself. He’d missed Sophie’s growing friendship with the gallery owner, Carter Mitchell. What had he overlooked in her relationship with John Landry?

“What about this Landry fellow?” Tracker asked. “Sophie met him on her last trip to England.”

“He’s clean. I checked him out myself.”

Tracker turned back to Lucas. “I’ll be there, too, when she unpacks the shipment.”

“How? You can’t do anything to alert her to what’s going on. The worst thing that could happen is for her to start acting strangely with Danforth or her customers,” Chance warned.

“I won’t alert her,” Tracker promised.

“She’s not an easy woman to fool,” Lucas said.

“I’ll figure something out,” Tracker said. “And she’ll never suspect a thing.” Then he turned back to Chance. “Right now I want you to fill me in on everything, including a list of your top suspects.”

3

SOPHIE HATED DUMPING anyone. She’d suffered enough rejection in her own life to know how much it hurt. But she ran the risk of hurting John Landry even more if she wasn’t honest with him. That’s what she’d been telling herself as she’d avoided him for the two hours since she’d left Mac’s bedroom. But even now, dancing with him, she was putting off the inevitable moment.

“Sophie?”

“Hmm?” It didn’t help one bit that she could feel Tracker’s gaze on the back of her neck. She hadn’t actually seen him since she and Mac had left the dance floor hours ago, but now the tension that she felt whenever he was near was back in full force. He was watching her dance with John Landry. The certainty of that gave her spirits a little lift, and she was very tempted to give him something to watch. But she couldn’t flirt with John Landry—or kiss him—and then dump him.

Besides, all she could think of was kissing Tracker again. She had to know if lightning could strike twice. Her mind drifted back to the time she’d spent with Mac in the bedroom. Those toys. Just thinking about using them with Tracker sent a wave of heat rushing through Sophie.

First she had to come up with a plan to get him within using distance. And she’d have to get him very close to use that black ribbon.

“Sophie?”

“Hmm?” She glanced up to find John Landry frowning down at her. Had he been talking to her?

“Sophie, your body is here dancing with me, but your mind is a million miles away.”

No, not a million. She figured it was about fifty yards to the French doors where Tracker was standing, watching her. And she wasn’t being fair to John.

“I want you to come with me to my hotel,” he murmured. “Leave your car here and I’ll drive you back to get it tomorrow.”

She drew in a deep breath. She’d insisted on bringing her own car because she’d known she wouldn’t be returning with John. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“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.

Pressing his foot on the accelerator, he closed the distance between them. It was time for plan A. Uncapping the bottle he’d pulled from his pocket, he took a good swallow. It would take about five minutes for the contents to work its magic on his stomach.

He planned to spend the night in Sophie’s apartment, but not in her bed. Tonight, he wasn’t going to take any chances. He hadn’t kept watch over the Princess for two years without figuring out what her weaknesses were, and she was a sucker for strays and under-dogs.

When the first stomach cramp hit, he closed the distance between the cars and let his weave all the way onto the shoulder. Slamming on the brakes, he made sure the tires made plenty of noise on the gravel before he came to a complete stop. Then he stumbled out of the car and emptied his stomach on the grass verge.

If he knew the Princess, just pretending to be sick wasn’t going to work. She was going to need to see the evidence, and there it was. One of his foster mothers had introduced him to the curative powers of ipecac when he’d gotten into her medicine cabinet. He kept a bottle in the kit with his other “tools.”

Leaning against the fender, weaker than he’d thought he would be, he watched Sophie gun her car backward along the shoulder until she screeched to a halt about five feet in front of him. She was out of the car and running toward him so fast that watching her brought on another wave of nausea. He pressed a hand against his stomach.

“What happened? Are you all right?”

The concern in her eyes was everything he’d hoped for. Plan A was going to work just fine.

“It must have been something I ate.”

When she glanced past him at the grass, he tried to block her view after he was sure she’d seen the evidence.

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you drunk?”

He shook his head and felt another wave of nausea hit. This one had him doubling over, and his deposit just missed her opened-toed sandals. He was beginning to think he’d taken too big a dose.

“C’mon. I’ll drive. You’re in no condition to operate a vehicle. You can send one of your men to pick up your car later.”

“I didn’t drink too much. It was the food,” he protested as she opened the passenger door and settled him inside. Before she got the door shut, he leaned out and made another deposit on the grass.

Without a word, she closed the door, marched around to get in the driver’s side. Plan A might have a few minor bumps that had to be ironed out, but he figured he was halfway there when she started the car.

“Sorry about this. I think I just need some sleep,” he said as they pulled back onto the highway. It had been more than twenty years since his foster mom had dosed him, and he didn’t recall feeling this sleepy afterward. Nor had his head felt quite this heavy. He tried to clear his mind. “T.J.”

“What?” Sophie sent him a sideways glance.

“My name. It’s T.J. Next question’s mine.”

“Not on your life,” she said. “Initials don’t count. I want your real name, or a penalty. But let’s get you back on your feet first.”

It wouldn’t hurt to pretend to sleep, he decided. That should be enough to get the Princess to take him home with her.

THE NEXT THING Tracker knew, someone was nudging his shoulder.

“Time to wake up.”

“Hmm? Where are we?” Opening his eyes, he blinked against the lights.

“We’re at the hospital.”

He came fully awake and saw that Sophie had pulled the car into the well-lit entrance of a hospital emergency room. “I’m not going in there.”

“Afraid of hospitals, are we?”

“No. I just don’t need one.”

“Relax,” she said as she climbed out of the driver’s seat and walked around the front of the car. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

Damn, he’d underestimated her nurturing instinct. And she had him between a rock and a hard place. If he told her he wasn’t really sick, he’d ruin plan A. While he mulled over what to do, she opened the car door.

“I told you I was fine,” he said.

“C’mon, I’ll hold your hand while they examine you,” she assured him as she helped him out of the car.

Shit, he thought. By the time they released him, he’d sure as hell better come up with Plan B.

“REPORT,” the man said as he pressed the button on the speakerphone. Then he leaned forward to adjust the position of one of his knights on the chessboard.

“Everything is going according to plan.”

“Not quite,” said the man.

There was a beat of silence. He let it stretch to two beats and then three. “Your plan was to become her lover so that you would be intimate with her when the shipment arrived. She left the party with another man.”

“I’ll be at the shop when the coin arrives tomorrow.”

“But you’ll have company. He’s in her apartment right now, and perhaps in her bed, where you were supposed to be.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“You know the penalty if you don’t.”

Replacing the receiver, the man leaned back in his chair and studied the reaction of his companion.

“I can handle him. Just give me the word, and I’ll have him out of the way.”

“Such ruthlessness,” the man admonished. He would discourage it now, but it would come in handy later. He took a sip of his brandy. “Patience, my friend. This particular puppet may still be of some use. Besides, removing him now might draw too much attention to Ms. Wainwright’s shop, and we don’t have the coin yet.”

The man called the Puppet Master had other puppets in place. Any one of them could get the coin tomorrow, and his companion would be useful later. His long-term success lay in knowing how to play the game.

He would wait, for now. The coin would be here tomorrow and once he had it, he would have all three.

“Your move.” He smiled and gestured toward the chessboard.

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