Lora_Leigh_Bound_Hearts_4_Wicked_Intent[1].pdf

WICKED INTENT

An Ellora’s Cave Publication, April 2004

Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

PO Box 787

Hudson, OH 44236-0787

ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-879-0

Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

WICKED INTENT © 2004 LORA LEIGH

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales

is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Edited by
Kari Berton

Cover art by
Scott Carpenter
.

WICKED INTENT

Lora Leigh

Hey, Tally, this one is yours!

And it wasn’t easy either!
-

Wicked Intent

“Hi, Jaded, how’s tricks?”
The words popped up on the computer screen, drawing an

amused smile to Tally’s lips.

“Slow, Wicked. Very slow,”
she typed back, snorting at the understatement.

The online life she led was the complete opposite of the real life she escaped each

evening. The same men, the same parties, the same crap. She had grown bored with the

endless round months ago. Why she had grown bored she had yet to figure out.

“Your boss still doing his own files?”
It was a running joke in the online chat rooms

she inhabited. She had told the story the first day it had occurred. Everyone had seemed

awed by her accomplishment. She had personally hoped for at least a good argument

out of Jesse Wyman at the time. She hadn’t expected him to actually do his own fucking

files.

“Hell if I know,”
she finally typed in. “
I think he fired me today.”

Repositioning, firing, it was the same thing. She liked working with Wyman. It

wasn’t exactly challenging but it left her plenty of time for shopping.

“Fired?”
The words popped back. “
He wouldn’t dare fire you.”

She laughed to herself. There were days Wyman had wanted to kill her, but he had

resisted the urge with more self-control than she had given him credit for. Of course,

the wedding Terrie was planning was keeping him pretty tired. That or her afternoon

visits to his office.

“He says it’s repositioning. He sent me to hell, Wicked.”
She sighed at the thought.

The merger between Conover’s and Delacourte’s had been more than a surprise last

month. Even bigger was the surprise that she would now be the personal assistant for

Lucian Conover.

5

Lora Leigh

“Repositioning?”
The short question was so typical of Wicked. She could almost feel

his impatience. “
In Hell?”

“In Hell.”
She sighed. “
My new boss is Lucifer. This is not going to be fun. There goes all

my playtime. (pout)”
She typed in the expression huffily. Lucian Conover was not her

idea of the perfect boss. “
Let’s hope he’s at least hiding a sense of humor under that scowl he

wears. I bet he doesn’t even know the difference between a ménage and a margarita. Who will I

tell all my dirty jokes to?”

* * * * *

Lucian scowled. Son of a bitch. Lucifer, was he? Didn’t know a ménage from a

margarita? He bit off a series of volatile curses as he jumped up from the computer and

paced the den furiously. Smart-mouthed, viperous little termagant. He would show her

a fucking ménage she’d still remember into her next life if she kept this shit up. She had

no sense of decorum and had shown him zero respect each time he showed up at Jesse’s

office.

She stung him with that waspish tongue of hers, smirked every chance she had and

showed in a hundred different ways that she expected him to grovel at the perfection of

her tiny feet. Son of a bitch. For a taste of that sweet little body he just might do it, too,

and that was what really rankled.

“You still breathing?”
Her tart question came over the instant message with a soft

ring.

“Yeah, just wondering what the connection was between the ménage and the margarita,”
he

typed in, damning himself a thousand different ways. He was insane to have demanded

her as his personal assistant. He had lost his ever lovin’ mind.

“No connection.”
He paused at her answer, frowning. Jaded always had a reason for

damned near everything she said. Unless she was unhappy. Unless she was lonely. He

6

Wicked Intent

had learned that over the past year. Had made it his business to learn everything he

could about her.

“You okay, Jaded?”
He really shouldn’t care, but he did.

“Oh yes, I’m fine.”
Her words rang hollow, even through the impersonal

communication box. “
Maybe I’ll go shopping tomorrow. I hear there’s a sale on shoes…”

“Uh oh. Poor cows, sacrificing their lives to support your addiction.”
He shook his head,

yet still he worried. She wasn’t acting normal.

“Cows, alligators, whatever.”
Nope, that wasn’t his Jaded.

“Hey, babe, you can talk to me, you know.”
He needed her to.

There was a long silence.

“She’s my friend.”
The words finally came through with a sense of sadness. “
I can’t

believe she has such horrid taste in men.”

“Yeah?”
He didn’t even pretend to understand that one.

“I love her like a sister.”
She had to be talking about Terrie.

He waited to see what else she said.

“I can’t believe she actually fucked Lucifer! Was she insane? Has she lost her mind? The

man is an outcast. He has no style, no class, and I doubt he has a cock over five inches long. He

probably only needs a finger or two to jack off with.”

He sat back slowly in his chair. His cock, all five inches and several more, pulsed in

outrage. His eyes narrowed.

“The man scowls. He sneers. Stomps around like a bull in a china shop. He is such a bore.

Geez. I need a new job.”

His fists clenched, his teeth ground together as he saw red. The viperous little

witch. A bull in a china shop? Five-inch cock?
Five-inch cock??
Ohh, he would show her

a hell of a lot fucking more than five inches. Damn her. The woman had a bite that

would do a rabid dog proud.

7

Lora Leigh

“If you quit, just think of all the shoes that would cry.”
It was lame. Real lame, but he’d

be damned if he could type his outrage to her over the Internet. She would probably

save the fucking message to show all her chat room buddies. He sneered. Oh, was she

in for a surprise.

“Well, this is true. But I’m definitely looking.”

He stilled. Looking, was she? He’d see about that one.

“Well, good luck, darlin’. Now I’m off. Hot date tonight.”

Nothing came back for long moments.

“All right. Goodnight.”

“Night, darlin’. Cheer up, maybe you’ll get lucky and he’ll at least have more than five

inches.”
He growled.

“As though that can help him.”
He could almost hear the haughty vibration of the

words.
“Where, oh, where have all the alphas gone? Your mothers must have breastfed you

overly long.”

“Or yours fed you venom and spice rather than sweet milk,”
he typed back furiously.

And he meant it.

“LOL. Good one, Wicked. Have fun for me while you’re out. Talk to you later.”

He clicked the box away. He shut down the program, damn near shaking with rage

and arousal. He came to his feet, pushing his fingers ruthlessly through his hair as he

clenched his teeth against his anger. Damn her. Lucifer, was he? Five inches, was he?

He snarled as he stomped through the house, jerking his leather jacket from the

staircase post as he headed for the door.

Miss Jaded Tally was in for one hell of a surprise.

Dev had warned him she wouldn’t be as easy as he thought she would be. Of

course, Dev was often warning him about Tally. He snorted derisively at that. His twin

had stayed in the background during this phase, though under protest. From the first

moment Lucian had met Tally, he and Devril had both been lost.

8

Wicked Intent

His brother had commented often that only Lucian would have chosen to make

them fall in love with such a sharp-tongued little vixen, but Lucian knew his brother

would have been just as helpless in the face of her haunted eyes, her unique features

and sheer bravado.

Now, they were both in a hell of a predicament. And neither of them was happy

about it. Tally wasn’t coming around as they had expected. She was no closer to

admitting to the lust that heated between them than she had been six months before. It

was time to fix that. It was time to master Tally Raines.

9

Lora Leigh

It was just called The Club. It was a large southern plantation house set on the

outskirts of town in a small wooded area, perhaps a mile from the main road. Not easily

accessible, but neither was it hard to find.

A stone wall enclosed the four square acres of property; a guard sat in a small booth

at the iron gated entrance. The house itself was surrounded by majestic oaks, giving the

estate an air of graceful wealth.

Lucian pulled into the hidden parking lot, surveying the vehicles already parked

there. The Club served a large clientele from around the world, but still maintained an

atmosphere of personal friendliness. Not just anyone was invited through its doors,

only a select few. It took more than money, breeding or influence to receive an

invitation from The Club’s members. It took a lifestyle.

“Good evening, Mr. Conover.” The butler and peacekeeper, Matthew Harding,

opened the door and stood aside as he entered. “May I take your jacket, sir?”

He wasn’t your typical butler. Lucian couldn’t see Matthew attending to any of the

influential families he knew. The six-foot plus ex-Special Forces soldier could have had

his pick of any security agency he could have worked for. Instead, he had accepted a

position as butler and head of security at The Club’s house. The benefits, Matthew often

said, were better than the pay, which was damned good.

“Thanks, Matthew. Looks like a full house tonight.” He could hear the voices raised

in laughter from within the main room.

“We have several out-of-towners in for the week, as well as many of the regulars.”

Matthew hung the leather jacket in the wide closet to the side. “The house is definitely

full for a while.”

10

Wicked Intent

The Club maintained the plantation for the convenience of its out-of-town

members. There was no need for hotel accommodations when doing business near or

around the area. The three-story house counted a dozen fully equipped bedrooms, a

kitchen staff, and maid service. A trust set up nearly twenty years ago by the founder of