On Thin Ice (7 page)

“Working awfully late, aren’t you, Counselor?” he asked, strolling into the room and coming to a halt beside her chair. Deep into her reading, she glanced up at him, her eyes behind the lenses of her glasses taking a moment to show recognition. What was it about those horn-rimmed glasses of hers that attracted him? The thought of taking them off?

Her gaze ran over him. “Hot date stand you up, Sinclair?” Her voice was soft and husky, as if she hadn’t spoken in hours.

A bedroom voice, he thought, enjoying the sound of it. Grinning, he propped his rear against the edge of the table, his leg only a few inches from her hand. “Careful. Can’t you tell you’re speaking to a heartbroken man?”

She snorted, and her voice regained its customary sharp edge. “You don’t have one to break.”

“Why do you say that?” He edged closer, brushing his leg against her hand, pleased when she tensed but didn’t move it away.

“A passing acquaintance with your ego.”

He leaned over and traced a finger down her nose. He liked the way it tilted up at the end, and he liked even more hearing the telltale catch of her breath as she drew it in. “You’re just ticked off because I won’t pretend there’s no attraction between us.” She opened her mouth, no doubt to protest, but he continued on. “Speaking of hot,” he said, rolling up his shirtsleeves, “what happened to the air conditioner? Is it broken again?”

She ground her teeth audibly before she answered him. “Sid turns it up at night and locks the thermostat. It doesn’t bother him that those of us who work late swelter.” Her elegant musician’s fingers plucked at the neckline of the white silk blouse clinging damply to her chest. “Do you think I like sitting in the dark? The overhead lights made it unbearable in here.”

Devlin had an idea that the heat wasn’t totally due to the temperature of the room. A small bead of moisture trickled down her chest, disappearing in the shadowy valley between her breasts. He wondered what she’d taste like if he ran his tongue along that line. “I can think of several things to enjoy in the dark. Reading isn’t one of them.”

Abruptly, Gabrielle shoved her chair back and stood. “If you don’t mind, I’m working.” She stalked to the light switch and flipped on the overhead.

Blinking at the sudden, harsh glare, he grinned, knowing he’d gotten to her. “Yeah, that’s why I came down here. Had an idea about Sabatino’s case and wanted to look it up.” He followed her over to the book stacks, standing behind her while she scanned the shelves. His hand covered hers as she reached for a book.

Glancing over her shoulder, she snapped, “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” he said politely, masking his smile as he pulled out the heavy leather-bound volume and handed it to her. Almost at random, he chose another and carried it to the table, switching off the overhead lights on his way. He settled comfortably into the seat across from hers. A frown tightened her mouth as she concentrated on her book.

Several minutes passed. When Devlin judged her to have relaxed her guard, he spoke. “Has Sabatino been hassling you?” A grunt was her only response. “I heard some rumors about him and one of his former lawyers. A woman.”

At that she looked up, her expression one of distrust. “So?”

“He didn’t like the way she handled his case, so he had her roughed up. No one could prove he did it, but she’s convinced it was Sabatino.”

Gabrielle didn’t look surprised; rather, she looked amused and a little disgusted. “Nice try, but I’m not giving up the case.”

“No one expects you to. That’s not why I told you. I thought you should know the kind of client we’re dealing with. Just as a precaution, that’s all. But then—” he flipped a page leisurely “—you and Sabatino seem to have an understanding. Almost like you know each other. A kind of . . . rapport, I guess you’d call it.” Smiling blandly, he raised his gaze to meet hers. Her face had paled. “Funny how that kind of thing happens, isn’t it? Especially with two strangers.”

Her eyes were like green chips of ice, standing out against the pallor of her skin. Her voice was as hard as her eyes. “I’m his lawyer. That’s as far as our ‘understanding’ goes.”

He cocked his head, considering her. “Sabatino would like it to be more than that.”

“All this on the basis of a few meetings?” She grabbed at the hair falling in her face and tucked it back. “Get real. He just wants us to save his butt.”

“Sure he does.” Shutting his book, Devlin caught her gaze and held it. Her eyes were still hard, and even warier. “But he wants more than that.” A pulse throbbed at her throat. Devlin realized he wanted to taste her there, too, to feel her heartbeat against his mouth, to run his lips over that soft, gleaming skin. Wanted it so much that it took him a moment to remember his strategy, to remember why he’d started this line of talk. “Sabatino wants you.”

Fear flashed in her eyes before she lowered her gaze. Raw fear, more than the moment called for to Devlin’s way of thinking. Enough fear to send her running?

“Assuming you’re right,” she said, her voice tight, “that’s my problem, isn’t it? If you think Franco’s little games will make me roll over and give you this case, you’re wrong.”

Franco? Franco’s little games, she’d said. Like she had more than a passing acquaintance with those games. Or with the man. “You know him, don’t you?” Devlin asked softly.

Her expression shut down, lights off. “I know his type. And I know what you’re trying to do. Forget it. I don’t scare that easily.”

But she was scared. Devlin sensed it, felt it in the tension pervading the room. Hell, he could almost smell it. Why? Why was she so frightened, yet so determined to continue with the case? “What makes you think I want you off the case?”

“Nothing except the little fact that you don’t want to share the glory if we win. I know what you want.”

He smiled at her, slow and easy. “Do you?” he murmured, his gaze lingering on her mouth.

Her eyes widened, then she looked away and began collecting her papers. He was reminded of how flustered she’d been when she’d dropped her lingerie and he’d helped her gather it up.

“It’s late,” she said. “I’m going home.”

He waited until she finished, then rose and went to the door with her.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he turned out the light and shut the door behind them.

“Walking you to your car.”

She strode down the hall, halting at the elevator. Facing him, her chin lifted arrogantly, she said, “I’m a big girl, Sinclair. I can get to my car by myself.”

Hands in his pockets, he relaxed, his shoulder against the wall. “You can also get mugged.”

“I know self-defense. Besides, I moved my car to the lighted lot attached to the building. The security guard will watch out for me.”

“Humor me. It’s my Southern upbringing.”

She threw up her hand. “Have it your way,” she said, and stalked inside the elevator when the doors opened.

I intend to,
he thought, following her in.

But what if the seducer became the seduced? If she could cloud his thinking, then
she’d
have the upper hand. Finding the thought marvelously appealing, she smiled wickedly.

“Plotting something?” he asked her.

Halting beside her car, she slanted him a mischievous look. “Do I look like I’m plotting?”

He turned her to face him, holding her arms lightly. “You look—” he traced two fingers over her mouth “—tempting as hell.” His eyes had darkened. He gazed at her but made no move to kiss her. Yet.

Devlin knew exactly what he did to women, Gabrielle mused. No man who looked like he did could be unaware of his power. He was a master of the game. The maestro of smooth moves. Had he ever let a woman get to him? She seriously doubted it, and she knew an ardent wish to give him back some of what he dished out.

Could she? The challenge was irresistible. “You know what Oscar Wilde said,” she murmured, deliberately speaking in a husky whisper.

Devlin drew her closer. Despite her best efforts, her heartbeat sped up. A sizzle of tension stretched its sultry tentacles between them.

“No, what did he say?” he asked, his voice as husky as hers.

She lifted her chin and met his gaze with a smoky challenge in her own. “The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.”

He smiled, the slow, sexy smile she knew made women want to rip off their clothes for him. And dammit, it had the same effect on her. His eyes darkened to a charcoal-gray. Slowly, he lowered his head until his lips covered hers. Bent on rocking his boat, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with an intensity intended to shoot him straight into hormonal overdrive.

For a brief, shining instant she tasted victory in his surprised reaction. And then she couldn’t think at all. His arms tightened around her and his mouth grew firmer, his tongue answering the taunting movements of hers with bold thrusts of its own. His hands slid down to cup her bottom and pull her firmly against him. Dimly, she thought about stopping him, about pulling back, but her blood hummed, her heart pounded as if a freight train lived in her chest, her skin tingled. She ached as she hadn’t in years . . . if ever.

He continued to kiss her, to explore her mouth with his tongue, to tantalize her with a nibble of her lips, a sharp nip, another deep, bone-melting kiss. All the while his hands roamed slowly, suggestively over her bottom. Her mind chanted a distant warning but her body melted like a snowcone in the Texas sun.

Gabrielle groaned and gripped his shoulders, then slid her hands down to his chest. His muscles felt sleek and powerful, like those of a cougar. Not at all like those of a lawyer who sat in a courtroom or read briefs all day long. She wanted to touch him, touch bare, warm skin, feel its heat against her own. Unconsciously, her fingers kneaded his chest and she angled her mouth to deepen the kiss. Drowning, she started to go under for the third time.

His mouth still fused to hers, Devlin boosted her onto the hood of her car with a move so easy, so practiced, she knew he’d done it a thousand times before. And she didn’t care. His hands covered her breasts. Shaping them, molding them, caressing them. Her nipples stiffened beneath his palms. She whimpered against his mouth, not realizing she’d done it until his mouth left hers, and she moaned again when she felt his teeth nip at her neck.

Leaning her back, his body heavy on hers, he trailed his lips down her throat, pressed a hot, wet kiss into the hollow at its base, then skimmed the skin of her chest just above the cleavage. His hand slipped under her skirt and between her thighs, smoothing over the soft skin above her stockings, gliding closer to the source of her heat, closer to the sweet ache of longing. In the dim mist of her mind she heard a noise, an annoying, distant clanging.

Opening her eyes slowly, she gazed into dark gray eyes, fathoms deep with desire. Her gaze lifted, and she looked upward, confused by the harsh, glaring light, the steel beams, the hard feel of metal beneath her back. Again she heard the clanging sound and finally placed it. A car running over something.

Sanity returned, as harsh and cold as the lights. What in the devil was she doing? This wasn’t her plan at all. She was supposed to be in charge here. Yet she was lying on the hood of her car in the garage parking lot, for God’s sake. Moments away from being thoroughly debauched.

“Stop,” she said, panting. “Devlin, wait. We can’t—” He cut her off with a kiss, his lips hard against hers. Helpless for the moment, she responded, but then, grasping at what little will she had left, she wrenched her mouth away from his. “Don’t. We have to stop.”

Devlin stared at her, his hand still beneath her skirt, for a moment looking as dazed as she felt. But she didn’t believe he could be. He was too calm, too composed. Too damned experienced to be rocked as she had been. Already the look had faded from his eyes.