Aces High (12 page)

“Yes. He had me ‘disarm' it but leave it there. He's now busy trying to outthink Adrian on the matter of random chance.” Skye moved around the desk until he was beside her and bent to kiss the bare nape of her neck.

Katrina controlled a shiver and glared at the computer's inoffensive screen. “Just as you thought. What do you mean to do now?”

“Take you upstairs,” he said, exploring the scented flesh beneath her right ear.

She had automatically hit the key that stopped the program she was running, but managed to hold her body stiff. “Skye, I have to do these accounts. It's the end of the month, and they have to be done today.”

“Later,” he dismissed her impatiently.

“It'll take all day, even with the computer. I'm not even planning on breaking for lunch.”

He suddenly yanked her up from the chair and pulled her into his arms. “Then quit the damned job,” he said in a voice that was little more than a growl.

Skye knew it was a mistake the moment the words left him. He had spoken without thinking as usual, and as usual it was because she was hiding from him. Her cool, elegant figure behind the desk inflamed him because she looked so damned untouchable, and her faintly absent tone made it worse. He could barely think when she was nearby; in fact, he had enraged Hagen by losing the thread of conversation as he watched her walk through the lobby over an hour before.

And his own loss of control was doubly galling because her control appeared so solid. She lost it in passion, and in anger, but it never deserted her for long. And as far as he could tell, a casual glance or touch from him never so much as rippled the smooth surface of her serenity. She was aloof except when she was in his arms. As cool and elusive as moonlight, as hot and bright as sunlight; the paradox of her maddened him.

He had thought that finding the fire in her would be enough, but he had discovered it wasn't. He wanted her to burn for him, always, the way he burned for her always. He hated everything that took her attention away from him for even an instant, and knowing his ferocity stemmed from his own insecurity about her feelings for him did nothing to change it.

“What?” she gasped now, staring up at him.

He gazed at her lovely face, and what he wanted to say was
I'm going crazy with wanting you; don't shut me out!
But, incurably graceless whenever strong emotions gripped him, he of course said the last thing he should have.

“I said quit the damned job,” he repeated impatiently, and rapidly made bad worse. “You don't need to work. I'll take care of you.”

Katrina shoved him away with unexpected strength, her amber eyes snapping. “Thanks, but no thanks,” she said tightly. “I may be a fallen woman, as you so aptly put it, but I'll be
damned
if I'm a kept one!”

She wasn't composed now, but Skye was belatedly aware that this kind of fire was likely to burn more than his hands. He had never before seen her this angry, and even while he was busy cursing himself he couldn't help but be fascinated. “Oh, hell, I didn't mean—I'm sorry, Trina—God, you're beautiful,” he interrupted himself to say intensely.

The impulsive comment didn't mollify her in the least. In fact, if she'd been angry before, she was furious now. “You may think my job is nothing, an inconvenience in your sex life, but you can think again,” she snapped. “I won't drop everything when you whistle, and I sure as hell won't be tumbled into bed because you're in the mood for a quickie!”

He laughed, unable to help himself, as her innately gentle voice shaped the blunt words. If he had considered it, he would have been surprised that her burst of rage did nothing to spark his own ready temper; oddly enough, he felt no anger at all, but only a sheepish desire to make amends.

“Don't laugh at me!” she practically shouted.

“I'm not,” he assured her hastily, reaching out for her and being held off when she shoved the chair between them. “Trina, I didn't mean it the way it sounded—”

“I don't care how you meant it,” she snarled.

“Please, sweetheart—”

“Get out of
my
office,” she ordered with a sudden and fiery dignity. She pushed the chair away and began shoving him toward the door.

Somewhat to his surprise, he found himself going. “Trina, for heaven's sake!”

“This hotel is filled with women,” she told him fiercely. “Try whistling to one of
them.
”

“But I don't want one of them,” he protested, and winced when the door was slammed in his face. He stood staring at the unyielding wooden barrier, resisting a sudden urge to kick the thing as he heard the metallic click of the lock.

“Damn.” He turned around, and felt a flush climb into his face as he saw Gigi.

She was standing with her arms folded, her face solemn but a demon of laughter in her eyes. In a dispassionate tone she said, “Anyone who could rouse Trina to a display of that magnitude must be a veritable fiend.”

“You're a lot of help,” he said in a disgruntled voice.

“You haven't asked for my help,” she told him politely.

He stared at her for a moment. “Help.”

With a faint smile she said instantly, “You have a certain amount of charm, even if it is a bit rusty from disuse. And though you aren't a gentle man, there is a great deal to be said for being a gentleman.”

Skye stood still for a moment after she strolled away, then turned and headed purposefully for the lobby. One of the desk clerks giggled as he passed, and another gave him a somewhat awed look, both reactions telling him that at least part of Katrina's outburst had been overheard.

And that, he reflected ruefully, just might sink his ship for sure.

For a full ten minutes after she'd slammed and locked the door, Katrina was so angry she could barely think. Gradually, however, the inevitable letdown overcame her, and she sank into her chair to stare at the computer. Her head was pounding, and she felt both a mild astonishment at her anger and a sense of bafflement at Skye's words.

His demand that she quit her job seemed, on the surface at least, to have sprung from sheer sexual domination, and that was what had sparked her rage. She had been furious, and mixed with that had naturally been her own sense of hurt that he apparently thought so little of her work that he would order her to abandon it without hesitation.

But a certain amount of bitter experience reminded her now that he often spoke without stopping to consider the probable impact of his words, and that his innate impatience made him quick to demand what he wanted. And what had he wanted in those first moments after he'd come into her office?

Her.

He hadn't thought about her work at all, except as something standing between the two of them. And, intolerant as always, he had simply taken the quickest and most direct route to getting what he wanted. Her job was in the way—so he wanted it shoved to one side. It wasn't important, and the added comment about taking care of her had just been an impatient, purely expedient rider along the lines of “Never mind. I'll take care of it.”

“Arrogant so-and-so,” she told the computer.

He
was
arrogant…but she wasn't surprised by it, and couldn't seem to get angry about it. She might just as well get angry at a comet for following its natural path. He hadn't meant to hurt or upset her, and it had probably never occurred to him that he would. And, to do him justice, he had instantly tried to apologize.

It was odd, she realized, but he hadn't gotten angry in return. He had been clearly intrigued by her temper, and he had laughed at her—No. Not
at
her, but at what she had said. Thinking about what she had said, she had to admit it sounded amusing in retrospect.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and she went to unlock it. Then she stepped back, startled, as one of the bellmen carried in a delicate crystal vase holding an enormous bouquet of long-stemmed red roses.

“Doesn't waste much time, does he?” the bellman observed cheerfully as he set the vase on her desk.

Two realizations struck Katrina then. One, that she lived in a goldfish bowl and, two, that Skye's impatience and temper weren't the only extravagant things about him. In the most dignified tone she could manage, she said, “Thank you, Dennis.”

“There's a card,” Dennis said with a wink, and then escaped before she could throw something at him.

Katrina eyed the offering for a moment, then plucked the card from among the blooms and retreated behind her desk. She sat down and opened the little envelope cautiously, not entirely certain what to expect.

I've forgotten how to whistle, but it doesn't matter. I want only you. I can't make pretty speeches about it; a starving man doesn't ask—he just grabs. I didn't mean to hurt you.

Thank heaven he wrote it himself, she thought vaguely, never doubting that the decisive, bold strokes of the pen were his. And what could a woman do with a man like Skye? A rough apology, blunt and without grace…and utterly disarming.

“Damn you,” she murmured.

Katrina sat for a long time, her gaze almost blind. Then she turned off her computer and left her office. She didn't think about where she was going or what told her he'd be waiting for her, but she wasn't much surprised to find herself opening the door of her suite and going in. He wasn't in the den, but she went on into the bedroom. And he was there.

She held the card up briefly before putting it on the dresser. “You knew I'd come,” she accused.

“No.” Wearing only a pair of dark sweatpants and looking vibrantly male, he came toward her slowly. “I hoped. But I wasn't sure.”

“Dammit, you got me up here anyway!”

He smiled just a little, a crooked smile, and his eyes were luminous. “They say if you wish hard enough, you can make the wish come true.”

Katrina cleared her throat, feeling the heat of his powerful body as he stood before her and stingingly aware that her body was responding instantly, as if he had reached out and enveloped it in his own intensity. “Is that what you did?” she managed to ask huskily.

“Yes.” He reached up slowly and began unwinding her braid, tossing the pins carelessly aside and watching intently as fire flickered in the auburn strands that fell over her shoulders and curled wildly.

“You—you had no right to make that demand of me,” she managed to say. “No right at all.”

“I know.” Though his voice contained a husky undertone, it was quiet and steady. He slipped around behind her, his hands smoothing the silk that covered her upper arms, rubbing slowly in a movement that was lazy and soothing.

“My job is important to me,” she whispered, feeling her bones begin dissolving. He gently pushed her thick hair aside so that it fell forward over one shoulder, and she bowed her head instinctively when his warm lips touched the exposed nape of her neck.

“Of course it is,” he whispered against her neck, his fingers dealing with the long row of buttons down her back. “I know that. You're a trained, experienced agent. You're also a hotel manager with responsibilities. I could never ask you to give up any part of what you are.”

Katrina caught her breath as the silk dress slid down her body and pooled in a glimmering circle of blue around her feet. His hands were at her waist now, pulling her gently back against him, and she was trying to think long enough to get this matter understood between them. “Then why did you?”

“I wanted you,” he said deeply. One of his hands lay on her stomach, fingers spread wide over the blue silk of her teddy, and his other hand slid slowly down her side to her thigh and began toying with the garter holding up her stocking. “I saw you walk across the lobby, and I couldn't think of anything else. You looked so cool and beautiful, as if you'd never gone crazy in my arms. I wanted you to go crazy again, to forget everything but me and wanting me.”

His mouth was moving over her neck and shoulder, trailing fire. With her head still bowed, she looked dazedly at his powerful hand covering her middle, beautiful and starkly male, and watched the long fingers of his other hand expertly unfastening the snaps holding her stocking. She could feel his body hardening against her, his heat almost scorching her. Her eyes felt heavy, the lids half closing, and she was only vaguely aware that he had unfastened the other stocking and then the garter belt.

She swayed, and her hand came out to brace herself on his shoulder as he knelt beside her. He was smoothing the stockings down her legs, removing her shoes and the gossamer hose. When he stood up again, she turned naturally to him and would have gone eagerly into his arms if he'd let her.

But Skye held her away from him, his hands grasping her upper arms firmly. His brilliant eyes moved slowly over her body, then lifted to her face. “If I'd known you were wearing this sexy thing underneath your dress,” he said thickly, “I would have locked the door of your office and taken you right there.”

She gasped when he pulled her slowly to him, his words and the burning strength of his body making her feel naked despite the teddy. Her mouth opened brazenly under the almost bruising force of his lips, and she clung to him as he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

She wanted him….

The desire he kindled in her mind and body was such a vast, overpowering, all-consuming thing that Katrina never wanted gentleness from him, or patience, or even tenderness. She just wanted
him.
She didn't think in his arms; she could only feel with the simple, stunning pleasure of totally awakened senses. She became a wild thing, crazy with the desperate need for him, and no matter how primitive and forceful his passion was, she gloried in it.

The knowledge that he lost control with her, that she excited him as potently as he excited her, freed her to experience fully the unexpected depths of her own passions. She might have tried to hold back, even in bed with him, but his hunger and fierceness combined with her own love shattered her control so completely she couldn't have.