Laws of Attraction (13 page)

Goddamn it
. Trying to talk logic into Mia Linden was more impossible than swimming upstream the Rio Grande. He was drowning, fast. And from what he knew about his not-so-biddable bride, she wasn’t going to throw him a lifeline.

After sacrificing his entire future … after investing blood, sweat, and over half an endless, agonizing decade courting Montoya’s trust, Dallas couldn’t afford the chance she’d attract attention to him. Or follow through on her threat to alert local law enforcement. With the goal line
finally
in sight, he couldn’t allow her to sack his endgame.

He was out of options.

Except one.

The credo he lived by:
Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer
.

Enormous risk, but what choice did he have? At least he’d know where she was and what she was doing. “Mia.” He banked his anger. Dropped his voice. “We can help each other. Our objectives aren’t … mutually exclusive.”

Because she was sharp, it didn’t take long. She gasped. “
Oh my God
!” she whispered. “Dallas … you … you’re not working for Montoya. You’re working
against
him!”

“Let’s just say I have unfinished business with him, too.” He flexed too-tight shoulders. “There is a solution to our impasse.”

“I’m
not
running off. I’m not hiding out and trusting you to wrap up this ‘business’—whatever it entails.”

“Yeah, I get that. So stay. And we do this together.”

She blinked at him. “Together?”

“As in partner up. Pool intel, pool assets.”

“No.
No freakin’ way
. Satan will be hosting the Ice Capades first.” Shaking her head, she backed away. “I don’t need you. I don’t need
anyone
. I’m doing fine by myself.”

“Really. You’ve accomplished exactly
what
, so far?” His eyes narrowed. “Your solitary crusade working out real well for you, is it … Mrs. Dallas McQuade?”

She jolted. Froze.

“Think about it. Are you willing to continue to endanger both our lives? Risk
neither
of us succeeding because we keep thwarting each other?”

Mia’s formidable focus arrowed on him, wariness evident in every taut line.

“My company has finances, specialized equipment, and contacts and resources you can only wish for. You’re an intelligent woman, surely you see the benefits.” Dallas held her gaze. “Either we work together, or we work at cross purposes. Maybe fatally.”

She stared at him for an eternity … while he watched the battle storming in her eyes.

Her teeth worried her lower lip. “I don’t—”

“Mia, asking for help doesn’t make you weak. It means you’re wise enough to know your limitations.” He lifted a brow. “Hell, darlin’, even the Green Hornet has Kato watching his back.”

C’mon, be the shrewd strategist I know you are, Mia Linden. Don’t make me have to hold you prisoner against your will
.

Her forehead furrowed. Then she inhaled again. “Convincing rebuttal. Okay, but can I be Kato—the original, not the remake? I’ve always had a secret thing for Bruce Lee.”

Laughter burst out of him. “Welcome to the team. But let’s get one thing perfectly clear from the get-go: I’m in charge. You follow my orders.”

Her eyebrows shot into her hairline. “Oh, you did
not
just go there.”

“I have seniority. I’ve invested five years here, five before that. You’ve logged mere months.”

“
Ten y
—? Doesn’t matter, forget it. I do
not
blindly obey orders like a good little soldier.”

“Huh, if you did, I’d probably suffer a major myocardial infarction.”

“Ha, ha. Hollywood’s desperate for comedy writers, and yet you’re a security specialist … go figure.”

She cocked her head. “Seriously, you might have more experience with certain elements of this case, but I’ve also got inside knowledge of Grayson’s firm, and specialized skills you lack. If we do this, it’s as full partners, or not at all.”

He’d been letting temper—and testosterone—make too many recent decisions. A smart tactician learned from his mistakes. Used every resource at his disposal. He stuck out his hand. “Partners. Share and share alike. Deal?”

Mia accepted his handshake “This is a binding verbal contract.”

Without warning, one slender hand locked onto his wrist, and Mia stepped away from him, tugging his arm straight. Quickly applying rotating pressure to his now-vulnerable elbow, she forced him to bend, and then used his own startled momentum to flip him as easily as she would a flapjack.

He slammed flat on his back on the lawn, the air exploding out of his lungs. Wheezing, he lay staring up at her.

She planted her sneaker on his chest and dusted off her palms. “I’m not a fragile fairytale princess, McQuade. We’re in this fifty-fifty … don’t you forget it.”

Dallas coughed, grinned. “Not likely to.”

Mia’s saucy grin flashed in return. A lightning spear of desire forked through him, his cock instantly surging to jackhammering hard. He wanted to tumble her onto the grass and take her until
neither
of them could walk.

He groaned. How could this woman make him crazy, furious, and so damned smoking hot that he spontaneously combusted? Grudging admiration for her persistence and ingenuity warred with the urge to throttle her.

If he didn’t watch his step, she’d have him lassoed and hog-tied.

A distinct pungent cigar odor and the murmur of approaching accented voices snapped his senses to alert. Adrenaline spiked. He’d never be able to explain this!

He grabbed Mia’s ankle, yanked her off-balance and pulled her down on top of him. Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled, capturing her mouth with his.

Trapped beneath Dallas’ solid, heavy body Mia froze. But again, he didn’t force the kiss on her. He held her with carefully tempered strength while his talented mouth nibbled, invited hers to play. His tongue flirted, withdrew. Twice more. Then he gave her another brief, heady taste.

When disappointment whispered from her lips, he teased her with quick unsatisfying strokes of hot silk, until she let out a frustrated moan and tangled her fingers in his hair to urge him closer.

His big hands cupped her face, his satin tongue gliding deep into her mouth. The flavor of him rushed through her, as hot and rich as dark chocolate espresso. His strength, his scent—his dangerously addictive taste—short-circuited all reason.

Heat radiated from him, penetrated their clothing … and pressed against her breasts, his heart slammed in his chest. A jolt of recognition electrified Mia. Her body knew him. Her heart wanted him.

The emotional embers still smoldering from their confrontation erupted into flames. She gripped his shoulders, arching her hips into the thick ridge of his erection, thrilled when a tremor shuddered through him. Shock-waves rippled inside her and shimmered into lightning strikes of pleasure. A sweet, burning ache flooded Mia’s limbs, pooling low and heavy between her thighs. Her breasts tingled, nipples tight. She rubbed them against the hard planes of his chest, and he groaned into her mouth.

“
Señor
Dallas?” Esteban’s low inquiry shattered the aching intimacy.

Dallas tore his mouth from hers like he’d been stung. His intent gaze clung to her mouth for a heartbeat before flicking to her eyes. His pupils were dilated, his irises brilliant cobalt flames. He slowly licked his lower lip.

Stunned speechless, Mia looked up past Dallas at Esteban Montoya’s astonished expression. Carlos stood to one side and slightly behind him, square face impassive.

Mia’s sensual high crashed, plummeting her back to earth.

“What are you doing out here on the lawn,
Señor
Dallas?” Esteban asked. “Is that your wife?”

Gasping, every muscle rigid, Dallas’ throat worked. He croaked something unintelligible. Cleared his throat. “Sure hope so, or I’m in deep shinola.”

Esteban chuckled. “I thought
Señora
McQuade was unable to attend?”

Dallas pushed off her. He stood, reached down to grasp her hand and tug her onto her feet beside him. His arm possessively encircled her waist. “She surprised me, sir. Caught me off-guard.”

Dallas wasn’t the only one thrown off-balance. Once again, he’d ensnared her with his sinful mouth and skillful hands.

Belated, horrified realization whammied Mia. Dallas had heard Esteban coming and kissed her to prevent awkward questions about why she’d knocked down her husband and had her foot planted on his chest.

Just more counterfeit affection.

“Our reunion got … a tad carried away,” Dallas continued. “I apologize. It won’t happen again.”

Esteban’s eyes crinkled as he puffed a glowing cigar. “I am not so ancient that I do not remember the passion of young love.”

Passion … undeniably.
Love
? Mia concentrated on evening out her breathing. Hah, not even in the equation.

“Unacceptable conduct while I’m on the clock,” Dallas insisted. “We should
all
get back inside, where it’s more secure.”

Esteban waved his cigar. “I am stealing a moment to indulge while Soledad is occupied. Carlos will see to my welfare.
Señor
Dallas, as of now, you’re off duty for the next several days to spend time with your wife.” Montoya offered Mia a jovial wink. “Escort her into the celebration, partake of the food, the wine, the music. Enjoy what remains of the evening together. That is a direct order.”

“Yes, sir.” Taut frustration thrummed beneath Dallas’ pleasant acquiescence as he gallantly offered his arm. “Mrs. McQuade.” Mia was sure only she heard the cynical edge.

They headed back toward the clubhouse without speaking.

“Oh,
Señor and Señora
,” Esteban called.

Dallas stiffened, turned. “Sir?”

“Please be my guests at brunch tomorrow. Eleven-thirty.”

Mia smiled.
Yes
! Unholy wedlock was already paying off.

She could hear Dallas’ back teeth grinding. “Thank you. We’d be honored.”

When they’d walked out of sight and hearing of the two men, Dallas halted, pointed at her. “Don’t move a muscle.” He yanked out his phone and called Phoenix airport security to arrange for Zane’s release.

Then he silently ushered her into the warmth and commotion and light of the crowded party.

“Is this an open bar, Hubby? I could use some fortification.”

His big, capable hand on the small of her back guided her through the murmuring throng to the bar. “Ditto, Mrs. McQuade.”

“Stop calling me that,” she hissed.

A sardonic brow arched as he handed her a crystal flute brimming with golden bubbly. “Just obeying orders to eat, drink, and be falsely married.”

“I’m not any happier about it than you.”

“Better check out the seat of your pants. I’m pretty sure they’re smoking more than Esteban’s stogie.”

Okay, so she
had
schemed for months for the opportunity to access Montoya’s mansion … without daring to even hope she’d engage her opponent on such a personal level. “If we’re going to succeed, we need to honor our treaty,” she said far more calmly than she felt. “Constant sparring is futile and counterproductive.”

Dallas considered her over the rim of his flute. “Sustained. Smarter to battle the enemy, and not waste our time and energy knocking heads.”

She clinked her flute on his. “To collusion.”

He raised his glass in a salute. “To victory.” Watching her with that mesmerizing intensity, he drained his champagne in one long, deliberate swallow.

Shivering beneath his unwavering regard, she started to follow suit.

He snatched the glass from her. “Oops. I almost forgot. No booze for expectant mamas.”

“Aw,
crap
. I needed that.” Mia’s nape prickled, and she turned to see Isabel shooting visual poison darts. “Your fan club over there looks a little petulant. No doubt missing your talented attention on the dance floor.”

“Didn’t get much choice. I couldn’t have her complaining to Esteban about me.”

“Where’d you learn the fancy footwork, McQuade?”

“Mama bribed me into taking ballroom dancing with all my sisters. I suffered through it because it honed my coordination for football.”

“Yeah, well, if you’d been dancing any closer to that bimbo, you’d have been inside her dress.” Watching Isabel grope Dallas like she owned him had been bad enough. But when the voluptuous siren had planted her mouth on his, stinging jealously had tempted Mia to submerge the bitch’s head in the fountain until the air bubbles quit coming up.

One broad shoulder lifted. “I was merely acting polite.”

She scowled. “Oh, is
that
what you call it in Texas?”

“I’m touched you got all hot and bothered on my behalf, darlin’.”

“I don’t appreciate my husband—make believe or not—getting groped in a public place.”

He smirked. “You’d rather grope me in a private place?”

“Funny as a hung jury, McQuade.”

Esteban sauntered into the room. As the band struck up an exhilarating salsa, Dallas flashed her a daring grin. “Esteban’s back, gotta advance the cause. Can
you
dance?”

“I did my share of musical theater, including a Latin show. Think you can keep up?”

Dallas set down his champagne flute. Set hers beside his. Straight white teeth flashed his bad-boy smile. He crooked his finger at her. “Dare you to find out.”

She offered her hand. Dallas took it and led her onto the center of the floor. He whirled her, caught her. Spun her backward, then forward to the fast, sexy salsa, sure hands guiding, lithe boot-steps instantly responding to her every move. Dallas McQuade was as powerful, graceful, and in absolute command on the dance floor as he was when fighting … or kissing.

When the band segued to a sensual rumba, Dallas’s smile warmed, grew wicked. One hand slid to Mia’s hip as the other turned her to smoothly pull her back against his front. She undulated her hips to the seductive rhythm, reveling in his sharp intake of breath and evident arousal.

The rest of the world ceased to exist. Their connection lengthened into forever … only the two of them, woven together with music and motion and the erotic play of seduction.