Playing with Fire (3 page)

She slightly spread her legs and Nick sucked in a deep breath. Nothing unladylike in her movement, just crossing her legs on the other side, but the way she did it implied that “in” did not mean her apartment.

Oh, she was doing everything right. Playing him. He still couldn’t see if she was wearing panties or not, and for now the fantasy eclipsed the reality anyway. Luckily, if he adjusted his jacket, she couldn’t see how aroused he was, but then again, he was pretty sure she knew.

“I’d like to come in,” he said, chagrined his voice held a slight hoarseness. That was embarrassing. He was known for being cold as ice.

This woman was trouble.

His entire working life he’d been warned he should watch for that
one
.

The target that made you weak
. His father had explained it to him when he was in his teens in succinct terms. It wasn’t like he hadn’t already suspected maybe his parent didn’t have a regular nine to five, but it was a little bit of a shock to know he was being groomed to take over the family business.

You have two lives. Like everyone else, son. One in which you do the job, and one in which you have the other entity. Father, son, brother. It isn’t any different than being a race car driver or the CEO of a company.… Those occupations aren’t quite understood by people who don’t do them, so just look at it with that attitude and you’ll be fine.

But someday you might doubt yourself. You will find that one mark you can’t hit because of emotional involvement. Just decline the job and walk away. What happens next is not your problem.

But it was in a certain way. He was trying to make sense of this and not having any luck so far. She wasn’t a logical target. It bothered him and he hated loose ends.

She murmured, “Good. We understand each other pretty well right away. I like that. Where are you from anyway? I’ve been trying to place your accent but can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“I’m of Italian descent.”

“Believe it or not, I figured that out already.” Her voice was dry. “And I’ve met men like you before. That translates directly to: I will never tell you who I am exactly, so maybe you shouldn’t ask too many questions.”

“Smart girl.”

“Woman. I promise you I haven’t been a girl for a very long time, Nicky.”

His gaze dropped to her full breasts in a deliberate stare. “I stand corrected. Woman. Yep. Totally agree.”

Softly she said, “I’ll help you out with that in a few minutes.”

“What?”

“Your hard-on.”

“What makes you think…” It was a reflex to want to deny it, but he had just shifted on the seat again, and actually, it was true, so after a moment he just looked into those emerald eyes and murmured instead, “I’m really looking forward to it.”

She reached out and deftly flicked his jacket open, pressing her hand between his legs as if measuring the length of his erection. “Uhm, nice.”

It felt good. A little too good, and he liked her bold sense of self. Not flamboyant—that usually turned him off rather than on—but alluring because she was confident and sexy.

He removed her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing her palm. “Why do I have the feeling this is going to be a very enjoyable evening?”

“How flattering. Smarter than you look.”

“That is one hell of a backhanded compliment, Ms. Reign Supreme. How do I come across?”

“Dangerous. And you know it. Oh hell, be careful.”

He narrowly missed a cab, hearing the blare of the horn. He probably did deserve the finger on that one.

*   *   *

Reign withdrew her hand and murmured, “That was close. Sorry.”

“You are kind of a distracting passenger.” An understatement.

“I doubt that you aren’t aware of my family’s business ventures.”

Someday his heart rate would return to normal. “That makes me look stupid?”

“I never said that, did I? I think the implication was that involvement with me can be a risk, and at first impression you seem like a man who plans his every move.”

Nick laughed, paying a lot more attention to his driving. “Why do I feel like we are talking in circles here?”

“Maybe a little. How often do you tell the truth Mr. I’m-of-Italian-Descent?”

“Never,” he said and touched her. Just a slight resting of his hand on her thigh, but when she didn’t object, he slid his hand up under her skirt—hell, she’d done it essentially to him—and found the answer to his question.

No underwear.

And she was wet. He slipped two fingers inside her easily, and she made a small very sexy sound.

How perfect. He was hard as hell and she was ready for it.

*   *   *

He drove a Bentley, wore tailored clothing, but Reign was fairly street-smart and knew that her first impression was absolutely correct. Pure bad boy, through and through.

Why the hell that made the game more exciting she’d have to examine later, but introspection, she’d learned over the course of what so far was a colorful life, was not necessarily a good tactic.

So,
she said to herself,
don’t think about this too much
.

He’d be good in bed. She knew it. He did something interesting with his thumb that made her inner muscles tighten in response while he still managed to drive with skillful attention after their near miss.

Finesse. Not all men had it. Reign had never been interested in selfish lovers. Lifelong commitment? Not necessary. It wasn’t that she didn’t desire that someday.… But she’d been betrayed once—badly—and as a result, she’d acquired some very good defensive skills and a more worldly view of life.

“That’s nice.” She moved a little against his hand. “Hopefully, it’s a promise of a memorable evening.”

“I’ll take good care of you.” He looked into her eyes as he slid his hand out from between her legs.

Oh, he better. Trust was earned, not just given freely.

It was the rule by which she lived her life.

She had no desire to get burned and the resolve to make sure it didn’t happen.

Reign moved her skirt down a few inches. “I was hoping you might. Words are just words though. Deliver.”

Nick smiled, gorgeous in his expensive suit, his posture relaxed. “I intend to.”

Then he licked his fingers.

Slowly. Like he savored the intimate taste of her. And maybe he did, for he started to set his hand on her knee again, and Reign stopped him. “I’m pretty sure you can do that better in my bedroom, and we’re almost there.”

“I hope it’s damned close.”

“Are we in a hurry?”

“I am.”

“Then you’re in luck.” She pointed. “This is it. Park in the drive if you want.”

“Here? A house?”

Yes, a house. Not a ritzy apartment in a high-rise building downtown with a gym, rooftop deck, and doorman. She owned a house because her son deserved the best upbringing possible. She liked it too. Two stories and brick, with great landscaping—not that she had the time, she paid someone to do that—but it was perfect for her right now. Maybe, when Vince left for college, she’d choose something else, but for now … home.

Vince was away with friends who owned a vacation home on Long Island, and she was getting a taste of that freedom. She adored her only child, but this break might just be what nudged her to invite a sexy stranger home for the first time in … she couldn’t remember.

“I like the quiet.”

Nick parked, slid out of the driver’s seat, and went around to open her door. “Fine with me.” He took her arm as they went up the steps to the front door. “Nice place.”

She could tell him that her father had loaned her the money for the down payment, and she’d worked two jobs to make it happen because she’d paid every single dime back, but she tended to be a private person when it came to financial information.

To any personal information, really. And all she knew about him was that he had a damned sexy smile.

“Thanks.” She unlocked the front door and went to press a button to disarm the alarm system, but the light wasn’t blinking and she didn’t hear the beep to signal she should turn it off. Maybe she’d forgotten to turn it on; she’d been in kind of a hurry when she’d left. “That’s strange. The alarm system is disarmed.”

“Ever happen before?” Nick’s voice was casual but his stance suddenly wasn’t. Like a light flicking on.

“Not that I can recall but I admit I might have forgotten. I was late for the party.” She really had been. “Care for a drink?”

He looked around the foyer and she didn’t mistake that sweeping appraisal.
Rule two
:
available exits accounted for
. Nick said pleasantly, “If you’re having one, I will too, but don’t go to any trouble.”

Reign dropped her keys in a bowl on a polished marquetry table. “I might. Or I might not want to wait.”

“However you want to play it.”

Good answer. She liked having control. Stepping out of her heels, one by one, she deliberately gave him a nice view of her ass as she bent over to set her shoes aside. “That’s better.”

“That’s perfect,” he said with proper appreciation, one shoulder braced against the wall. “You know, I think I’m more hungry than thirsty.”

“We could order a pizza.” Her tone was facetious because she knew exactly what he meant.

“Yeah, well, I was thinking of something a little different.” He straightened, and she had to admire the smoothness of the lithe masculine movement.

“As in?”

“I’ve had a taste of you. I liked it.” He reached for her, but did it slowly enough she didn’t take a reflexive step back. “Can we explore the possibilities?” Nick’s hands settled on her shoulders. “I like exploring.” His mouth on her neck was warm and teasing. “Care to guide me to the closest bed?”

“I’ll show you.”

“Just tell me.” In a bold theatrical move he simply picked her up and inclined his head toward the stairs. “That way?”

Put me down
.

She almost said it, but then again, she’d been the one to suggest he come home with her, and if she was anything, she was honest. “Top of the stairs, but I can walk.”

“I can carry you.” He started up.

“Cut the caveman stuff. No point has to be proved here.”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Are we already arguing?”

She had to laugh because his grin was very engaging. And really, he had the most incredible eyes. The carrying-her-up-the-stairs was kind of a romantic touch, but she wasn’t sure she wanted romantic. Hot, sweaty, and wild, absolutely.

Romance was optional.

“We’re both Italian. Of course we are arguing. What did you expect?” Her arms circled his neck for balance. It was better if he was intent on doing this that they didn’t fall down. That would definitely spoil the mood.

“You have a point.”

“First door on the left.”

The door to her bedroom was almost shut.

Open only one telling inch.

What?

Reign’s body froze. Her son wasn’t home, and she sure as hell knew she had left that door wide open, and the alarm had been off, which wasn’t telling if each incident was singular, but together it really bothered her. “Put me down.”

At that moment she was glad Nick was everything she suspected he might be, because he dropped her on her feet and drew a weapon from behind his back with what looked like fairly impressive precision. The gun fit his hand naturally and he was comfortable with it. That didn’t surprise her at all somehow.

“We got a problem here?” he asked her, slanting a razor-sharp glance her way, but she knew his attention was on that almost-shut door.

Reign said a prayer of thanks that Vince was far away and nodded. “I think so.”

Chapter

T
HREE

Nick didn’t kick the door open. That was for the inexperienced.

They stood in a long dark hallway, a series of doors to his right, nothing to the left except an oak railing to protect against the drop down into the foyer. It looked nice, but there wasn’t really anywhere to escape.

“Talk to me,” he said quietly. “Who do you think is in your bedroom and what do you believe they want from you?”

Reign rebelled at first. “You don’t have to fight my battles.”

He wasn’t surprised, but this wasn’t the time to get independent. He was armed, but in that clingy dress, there was no doubt
she
wasn’t concealing a weapon. As pleasantly as possible, he urged, “Sweetheart, I’m not thinking it is a battle, but maybe a small war. So spill. Police? Or is this a private conversation?”

Those glorious green eyes were wide. “I honestly don’t know. I can’t see why it would be either one.”

Shit
. He believed her. Besides, police had no finesse. They didn’t need it.

Private war, then. He said curtly, “Stay right here and I mean it.”

She nodded, her glossy hair moving over her supple shoulders.

Why couldn’t anything be simple?

Connected,
Joey had told him. No doubt about it. Her entire family was in organized crime, but she really wasn’t as far as he could tell. Her portfolio read up-and-coming fashion designer. True, her father and several uncles were doing time, so maybe this was related to making some kind of point to her relatives.

Okay. He understood that, but he didn’t like it was her house, that she was alone—or might have been—because while there was no particular honor system for getting even, killing wives or daughters or children was not part of how it all worked. Nick stepped back and eased open the door. He usually just carried a Glock .45. Light, easy to fire, and effective. That was why law enforcement liked them, and he didn’t disagree. He entered with the weapon extended in his hands and immediately, like a dog catching a scent, registered a waft of aftershave.

Checkmark
. Some operatives were so fucking careless.

He liked her bedroom. Sleek, like her, with a sleigh bed on a polished dark wood floor, and a bedspread in shades of white and black. A huge armoire in the corner. One lamp in the corner on a lacquer table, and some large framed prints on the walls, all in black and white to match the bedspread. A patterned rug. He thought she’d probably designed it herself, since it looked really nice and word was she was good at what she did.