Sinful Attraction (7 page)

“Marcus—”

He stared at her, eyes flashing. “You know what, though? This is easy. You want to get rid of me? All you have to do is look me in the eye and tell me to get lost. Not that
I can’t
nonsense or that
I don’t have the time and it’s inconvenient
bullshit. Look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t want me to be the one. And I’ll be gone. Like that.” He snapped his fingers.

Looking him in the eye, she opened her mouth.

And couldn’t say anything.

Triumph shone on his face. “That’s what I thought.”

The combination of his quiet confidence and her simmering dread—how was she supposed to resist him when he could so easily use a few well-placed words to knock down all of her fortified defenses?—sparked a wave of annoyance inside her.

“You’re very good at talking the talk, aren’t you, darling?”

His expression soured at her renewed use of the nickname.

“But can you walk the walk when the time comes?” she asked, keeping her voice silky to disguise how flustered she was.

“Watch me,” he said flatly.

“Well, well, well,” drawled a new voice. “What do we have here? Lover’s spat?”

Startled, she and Marcus straightened away from each other and looked up to discover Judah Cross staring down at them, a speculative gleam in his bright blue eyes.

Chapter 10

“M
r. Cross.” Claudia jumped to her feet and tried to look like the professional she aspired to be rather than the smitten and melty girl she became whenever she was around Marcus Davies. Smoothing her jeans, she ignored Judah Cross’s question and extended her hand as though they were in a boardroom. He took it in a hard grip between his two hands, and she felt the rough palm and swollen knuckles of a man who spent vast amounts of time working with his hands—chopping wood here on the ranch, maybe?—and playing bass guitar. “What a pleasure to meet you,” she continued in the voice she used when recording the message on her voice mail back home. “And thank you for having me. I’m Claudia Montgomery.”

Judah cocked his head, regarding her with the kind of indecipherable look that made her stand up straighter. “Claudia.” His voice was the mellow rasp with a hint of a Texas twang that she’d heard countless times before while watching him give TV interviews. It was also exactly what one would expect from someone who’d made a vast fortune singing soulful rock that sounded like the love child of Elvis Presley and Janis Joplin.
“Claudia,”
he said again, trapping her in his unblinking gaze.

O-kay, then.

She waited for him to release her and say something else, but nothing seemed to be imminent, so she took the opportunity to study him up close while her raging heartbeat thumped in her chest as though it wanted to audition for his band.

He was quite tall, she noticed right off the bat, somewhere between her height and Marcus’s, which had to make him about six-one. After forty years of wearing his hair in every conceivable style, from a Beatles-type bowl cut to a Little Richard swirl to an Afro during the disco era and an unfortunate frizzy mullet phase in the 1980s, he’d now settled on a close-cropped style that flattered his sandy-brown curls and would have been right at home on a banker or a lawyer.

His face was a tanned leather illustration of the damage excess could do to a person. Drinking, drugs, smoking, sun exposure and the general hard living that came from burning the candle on both ends with blowtorches were all right there in the deep wrinkles and creases. Still, he was handsome, with the sharp cheekbones and intense blue eyes—they were the color of irises—that made women of all ages peel off their panties and throw them to him onstage.

He was dressed as though he’d taken a worldwide shopping trip and thrown on a little of something from everywhere. A mint-green tunic that looked Pakistani. A pair of loose harem pants that he may well have nabbed from MC Hammer. Colorful scarves of every pattern and description—Indonesian batik, Native American and Asian—were loosely looped around his neck and dangling down the front of his shirt. And he wore an excessive amount of jewelry with turquoise, jade and lapis lazuli stones. He had chokers and chains in rose, yellow and white gold, armfuls of silver bangles, rings on all fingers and studs covering every inch of his ear rims. Oh, and a stud in one nostril in the shape of—she squinted discreetly, checking it out—the yin-yang symbol.

The funny thing was, on him, it worked. Beautifully.

Absorbing it all in a silent inventory, she had the random thought that she’d hate to be behind him in the metal detector line at the airport.

“Claudia.” This third time, he dimpled and then revealed a full smile, which was startlingly white and welcoming. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you. Anything you want, you just ask, you hear? Come here. Give us a hug.”

He opened his arms and Claudia walked straight into them, forgetting all about her usual reluctance when it came to displays of affection. What else was a person to do when one of her childhood idols wanted a hug? Anyway, there was something familiar about him, as though she’d finally met a pen pal in person after years of writing. True, she’d probably feel that way about any famous singer whose music she loved, but still. He smelled wonderful, musky and exotic, as though he’d anointed himself in sandalwood after dressing.

Come to think of it, he probably had.

Turning her loose, Judah palmed her face and smacked a wet one on her cheek, making her grin idiotically before ducking her head.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she, brother?” Judah asked, turning to Marcus.

“That she is,” Marcus agreed, staring at her.

“I’ve heard about you, Mr. Cross,” she said, trying to get a grip on her simpering. “You’re a charmer. My mother—she died last year—was a huge fan of yours. So am I, of course. She told me she went to one of your concerts in London and women were screaming and fainting in the aisles.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your mother,” Judah told her, his expression clouding. “You must miss her.”

There was so much understanding in his face that she found herself confessing. “I do. Terribly.”

“Well, we plan to take good care of you while you’re here, and there’s no Mr. Cross at my ranch. Just Judah, you hear?”

“I hear,” she told him.

“And you,” Judah said to Marcus, shaking his head sadly. “You’re off your game, man. I was over in the kitchen yakking with your brother for five minutes, and you didn’t even notice I was there, did you? And I see you’ve only gotten uglier since I saw you last. Shame.”

“And you still talk nonstop nonsense. Also a shame,” Marcus replied.

They glared at each other for a beat before bursting into laughter and coming together in a hard hug. Behind their backs, Claudia rolled her eyes. Had she called it, or what? Of course Marcus, her powerful competitor, already knew the potential client.

It figured, didn’t it? She wasn’t likely to get any breaks here, that was for sure. David, meet your Goliath. Oh, and, by the way, no slingshot for you. The story of her life.

Even so, she smiled gamely and pretended the playing field was even. “How do you two know each other?”

“The Davies brothers feed my art addiction.” With a wry grin, Judah waved at Cooper, who was still in the kitchen and now making a face as he tasted the beet-colored juice, and then pointed to a painting far away, in the dining room area. Claudia’s jaw clanged to the floor when she did a double take and realized it was a Jackson Pollock. “I’ve gotta do it now that it’s the only addiction I have left, don’t I?”

“Absolutely.” Claudia hesitated, then decided to just ask the question that’d been eating her up inside since Marcus had told her he was also vying for Judah’s auction. Why not, right? She had nothing to lose but her pride, dignity and livelihood. “Mr. Cross—Judah, I mean—why am I here when Davies and Sons or Christie’s or Sotheby’s are much bigger houses? I’m a relative newbie in the rare-book world, not that I wouldn’t work my fingers to the bone for you, of course.”

“Don’t undersell yourself, Claudia,” Marcus said quickly, shooting her a thinly veiled
What the hell are you doing?
frown. “You have a stellar reputation in the business. Judah would be lucky to have your energy and brains behind his auction.”

Judah swung around and gave Marcus a quirked-brow look. “Oh, yeah? You think a lot of Claudia’s, ah, skills, there, don’t you, brother?”

Oh, God, Claudia thought, cheeks burning.

Marcus shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, looking uncomfortable. “The truth is the truth,” he said, his unsmiling gaze shifting to her. “In the rare-book world, she knows what she’s doing. I like to keep my friends close and my competition closer, so I spent some time researching her last night.”

Funny, because Claudia had spent half the night engrossed in reading online about Marcus Davies, one of the lower-profile members of Davies and Sons.

“Interesting,” Judah murmured, his rapt attention swinging back and forth between the two of them before settling on Claudia. “To answer your question, Claudia, I’ve also researched you. Actually, I’ve been following your career for a while—”

This was a huge surprise to Claudia, who beamed with delight. “You have?”

“—and I like to help out newcomers when I can. I want to get to know your soul,” Judah concluded. “That’s why you’re here.”

Claudia blinked. He wanted to get to know her
soul?
What kind of existential rock-star nonsense was that? Or was that really a thing now? Soul exploration? For goodness’ sake, why couldn’t she just give him one of her auction house’s glossy catalogs like she did with all her other prospective clients?

Still, he was the boss, and this was his auction, so she’d play along.

“I’m grateful,” Claudia told him, hanging on to her smile.

“Save your gratitude,” Judah said crisply. “You want my business, you’ll have to work for it.” He looked to Marcus. “Both of you. I haven’t decided who I want to go with yet. Everything’s up in the air.”

“I understand.” Claudia’s nerves loosened up a little now that they were getting into business territory, where she felt more confident than she did when they were talking about souls. “I’d love to personally tell you a bit more about what we can do for—”

Judah waved a hand laden with turquoise-and-silver rings. “I don’t want a business spiel. I ain’t got time for that kind of bullshit. I have an icebreaker in mind. It’s a quick way for us to peel back the layers and get to know each other.”

Claudia and Marcus exchanged a baffled look.

“Ah...peel back the layers?” Marcus echoed, raising a brow. “I’m not sure I understand—”

“Like an onion, brother.” Judah clapped a hand on Marcus’s back and gave his shoulder a massaging squeeze that seemed to make Marcus distinctly uncomfortable. “Onions have layers. You peel back the layers, you get to know the onion.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted to know an onion,” Marcus said, echoing Claudia’s thoughts exactly.

Judah tipped his head back and laughed. “I figured you’d say something like that. Men always have a tough time opening up.”

Marcus smiled uneasily. “What does opening up have to do with Davies and Sons handling your auction?”

“Aren’t you business types always talking about maximizing the synergy and team-building and ice-breaking and all that crap?” Judah asked him. “Well, I want to build a team and maximize our synergy. Which means that you, my friend, need to break your ice so’s I can see if I want you on my team. Got it? I don’t hear no complaints from Claudia here.”

“Actually,” she said quickly, exchanging a worried look with Marcus because God only knew where this whole discussion was going, “I’m not sure—”

“Look, folks.” Judah held on to his smile, but it now had a lot less charm and a lot more steel in it. In fact, Claudia decided, he’d lost the earth-child demeanor and now seemed to be demonstrating the side of himself that was a shrewd investor who’d amassed fortunes in art, real estate and his music songbook. “Here’s what’s happening. Anyone who wants the chance to handle my auction and earn a commission on what I conservatively predict will be forty million in sales needs to show up at my dinner by the bonfire at dusk, okay?”

“Bonfire?” Claudia and Marcus repeated blankly.

“And if no one shows up,” Judah continued pleasantly, “well, I’ll just donate the whole lot to the Rock and Roll Museum, because they’ve been begging me for it for years anyway. Don’t matter much to me because I’m richer than God either way. Up to you.”

Casting a final, doleful look Claudia’s way, Marcus pasted on a bright smile. “Bonfire. Sounds great.”

Judah studied him for a second, then swung his narrow-eyed look back to her, waiting.

Claudia grinned as best she could for a city girl faced with the prospect of cold night air and nature, which probably also meant bugs, wood smoke smelling up her designer clothes and—she repressed a shudder—icebreaking.

“Bonfire,” she said. “Delightful. Will there be—what do you Americans call them?—s’mores?”

Chapter 11

S
everal hours later, the bonfire was in full swing, with logs piled into a flaming tepee-shaped structure that felt hot enough to melt the nearest glacier and yet was not, oddly enough, hot enough to protect Marcus from the biting chill of a Wyoming night.

The setting was a picture postcard of everything that was beautiful about the West, so amazing that even he, a die-hard city boy, could appreciate it. Judah had led them up a path behind the main house to the top of a little rise where the stars sparkled overhead like diamonds spilled across navy velvet. Marcus stared up at them with unabashed amazement. He knew they were real and not the product of a Hollywood studio’s computer graphics, but still...were there this many stars in the sky normally? There sure as hell weren’t above Manhattan.

Trees loomed all around them, infusing the air with the sharp scent of pine. And there were other intriguing smells: wood smoke, damp earth, grass, roasting marshmallows and melting chocolate. Closing his eyes, he breathed it all in. The darkness allowed his hearing to focus in on sounds that he’d never hear over the traffic in the city. Owls hooting and raccoons—he thought they were raccoons—chittering. The distant howl of a wolf and the more distant reply of another wolf.

Bundled in sweaters and woolens, their shoes restored to them as long as they swore not to wear them when they went back inside, they all formed a circle around the blaze and sat in Adirondack chairs that were surprisingly comfortable. The combination of brisk mountain air with a delicious open-fire dinner of bison—yes, bison—burgers, baked potatoes with all the high-fat trimmings and hot apple crisp à la mode all conspired to make him feel slow-witted and dull, which made him glad that Judah ran an alcohol-free household. If he’d had, say, a couple glasses of wine with his dinner, he’d no doubt be curled up on a blanket beside the fire, snoring and drooling.

Which wasn’t exactly the kind of sexy and irresistible image he wanted to project to Claudia.

She, on the other hand, was practically hurting him with her sexy irresistibility.

Sitting to his left, she looked like a snow bunny in a black-and-white Fair Isle sweater that loved her curves almost as much as he did. Her cheeks were flushed, the tip of her nose was pink and all of her was bathed in the fire’s orange warmth. His mind kept soaring off into what-ifs.

What if it was just the two of them, alone, in front of the fire?

What if they snuck off to the hot tub they’d passed on the way up, sipped peppermint-spiced hot chocolate and talked while the hot water swirled around them?

Better yet, what if they left the circle and went inside, to the down-covered king-size bed in his suite of rooms, and made love all through the night?

For now, though, it was enough to watch her cook her first s’mores.

“Oh, no!” she cried. “The marshmallow’s not supposed to catch on fire, is it? Someone help me! I’m a complete s’mores failure, obviously!”

Judah, who was sitting next to her, laughed. “Blow on it, woman. It’ll be fine.”

Looking dubious, Claudia raised her stick and blew out her flaming marshmallow, which, in another second or two, would have been a threat to the surrounding forest and wildlife. Then she stared sadly at the charred remains.

“It’s ruined.” Her lips turned down in a delicious pout. “It’s a charcoal briquette. A tragic lump of carbon. I’m sorry, little marshmallow. Please forgive me.”

“That’s a lot of drama for one burned marshmallow.” Marcus, who was working on a hot dog on a stick, which was just the thing he needed to wash down the bison burger, grinned across at her. “Why not make another one?”

“I’m not sure I dare,” Claudia replied, taking the plastic bag when Summer passed it down to her and selecting another marshmallow with great care. “Perhaps we should get the local fire department on standby before I attempt it— Oh, hello, who’s this?”

A troop of animals had wandered into the circle: a black-and-white border collie with bandit markings around his eyes, an orange tomcat the size of a lion cub and—Marcus squinted to make sure he wasn’t seeing things—a potbellied pig wearing a hot pink collar with a tinkling bell.

Judah glanced up from his work of breaking a piece of chocolate and layering it on a graham cracker. “What’s up, fellas?” he said to the animals. “’Bout time you three joined the party.”

“Really?” Cooper, who was sitting to Marcus’s right and hadn’t seen the point of this whole getting-to-know-you session any more than Marcus had, leaned closer and spoke in a stage whisper. “We need to commune with farm animals, too?”

Marcus snorted.

The animals went straight to Claudia and snuffled around her legs while she peered down at them. The dog zeroed in on her burned marshmallow, his black nose working hard.

“What’re their names?” she asked.

“I named ’em after the three wisest souls who ever lived.” Judah took a big bite of his s’more, smudging melted chocolate across his lips. “That’s Buddha,” he said around his mouthful, pointing to the dog, “and the cat’s Gandhi.”

At the mention of his name, the cat meowed.

“And the pig?” Claudia asked, keeping a wary eye on the pig as it noticed the dog’s interest in the marshmallow.

“Yoda,” Judah said, swallowing.

At that, Yoda the pig edged past Buddha the dog, snatched the marshmallow off the end of her stick and swallowed it whole.

“Hey!” Claudia cried.

Buddha the dog also didn’t appreciate this move and retaliated by snapping at the pig’s ankle. Yoda squealed at him, and the dog snapped again. Yoda scuttled away, curling up in a dignified ball at Judah’s feet.

Gandhi the cat, taking advantage of all the distractions, leaped lightly into Claudia’s lap.

“Hang on!” Claudia cried. “I didn’t invite you up here!”

“You did say yesterday you wanted more pets,” Marcus noted, pulling his hot dog out of the fire and testing it for doneness.

“Fair point,” Claudia conceded as she began to scratch the animal’s ears and stroke his belly. A grateful Gandhi responded by stretching out over her thighs and beginning to purr.

Damn lucky cat,
Marcus thought irritably, lowered by the thought that he was jealous of a pet.

“Yeah,” Cooper said in his ear. “Keep looking at her like that. Subtle. She’d never notice that you’re ready to swallow her whole. Nice job.”

“Keep talking,” Marcus said, “and I’m going to have a few questions to ask you about the mystery woman you referenced before. Maybe mention her to Judah and see if we can pull her in on the onion-peeling agenda for discussion tonight.”

Grimacing, Cooper snapped his jaws shut.

Marcus smirked at him. “That’s what I thought.”

“We should probably start, Judah, don’t you think?” Summer asked, glancing at her watch. “You still need your massage tonight, and we have an early wake-up in the morning. I want to make sure you get your twelve hours in.”

Twelve hours? Marcus, Claudia and Cooper exchanged raised-eyebrow glances.

“Keep your panties on.” Judah seemed to be in no particular hurry as he assembled another s’more, licking his fingers as he worked. “I don’t know about the rest of you folks, but I sure could use a shot of bourbon right about now. Something about the night air.”

Marcus silently agreed.

“Good job, Judah.” Summer beamed at the rock star. “It’s so important to own our feelings, even the self-destructive ones. That’s such an important step. Do you have any other feelings you’d like to explore right now with the group?”

Judah winked at her. “Honey, I’ve got nothing but self-destructive feelings. A shot of bourbon would be good, but a bottle would be better. Then I could follow that up with a few lines, a couple packs of cigarettes and two or three women. And maybe a man. I’m not picky.”

This time, Marcus, Claudia and Cooper took care to avoid each other’s eyes.

“But since I’m living the clean life now,” Judah concluded dolefully, “I guess I’ll just have another six or seven of these sugar sandwiches. Best I can do.”

“I’m proud of you,” Summer told him, patting his thigh. “You’re making good choices tonight.”

“Whatever you say, honey.”

“Shall I light the candle to begin the circle?” Summer asked eagerly.

“Do it,” said Judah.

Wait, candle? There were candles, too? Marcus thought, watching Summer light a tall yellow candle and catching himself before he frowned. This was getting way too New Agey for him. He was a hardheaded New Yorker, and he didn’t have the time or the inclination for this kind of woo-woo stuff. If anyone pulled out a crystal, he was out of there.

Reaching under the neck of her sweater, Summer pulled out a silver chain with a sparkling crystal pendant.

This time, Marcus couldn’t help it. He winced. Beside him, Cooper emitted a low groan. Across the circle, Claudia did a good job of keeping her face expressionless as she continued to rub the cat. But Marcus noticed that her shoulders heaved up and down in what looked like a protracted sigh.

Summer put her palms together, pressed her thumbs to the center of her chest and bowed her head. Judah mirrored her movements.

Marcus looked at his own hands, wondered what he was supposed to be doing with them, then decided to just rest them on his knees.

“Mother Universe,” Summer intoned, “please guide our intentions tonight as we gather together in the fellowship of the circle.”

The pig, still lying at Judah’s feet, raised his head, burped and lowered his head again. The dog, who’d been wandering around the perimeter, sniffing for food, wandered over and flopped to the ground, resting his snout on the pig’s butt.

“And please help us use this time to turn inward and explore our minds and our hearts, so that we may embrace those things that enrich us and discard those things which we no longer need. And, Mother Universe, please open up the hearts of the skeptics among us—”

Marcus and Cooper shifted uncomfortably; Claudia cleared her throat with a soft cough.

“—and help them to use this time to center their purposes on things that they need and things that they can do to enrich the world around us.” She bowed from the waist this time, touching her thumbs to the space between her eyebrows and then returning them to her heart. “Namaste.”

“Ah...namaste?” Marcus said, not sure what the protocol was here.

“Namaste,” murmured everyone else around the circle.

Buddha the dog raised his head, yawned hugely with much stretching of his pink tongue, then resettled against his pig pillow.

“Marcus?” Summer smiled encouragingly at him. Marcus cringed and involuntarily looked around to make sure that she was, in fact, addressing him. “What are your intentions for tonight?”

Marcus froze, floundering and painfully aware of Claudia’s amusement at seeing him sizzle on the hot seat.

“My, uh, intentions?”

“Yes,” Summer replied with infinite patience.

Marcus gave it some thought. His intentions, in no particular order, were to pretend he didn’t think this whole exercise was a load of crap, pretend he didn’t think Judah and his minion Summer were complete wackos and get Claudia off somewhere alone for some quality one-on-one time that included an enthusiastic round of no-holds-barred sex followed by, if there was time, talking and getting to know everything about her.

Those probably weren’t the kinds of intentions Summer had in mind, though.

“My intention is to learn as much as I can tonight,” Marcus said, which was the most truthful thing he could think of.

“Excellent!” Summer turned to Cooper. “And you?”

“I also want to learn,” Cooper said smoothly.

“You can’t take my intention, man,” Marcus told him.

Cooper gave him a pointed look. “Learning is a universal intention, Marc. Everyone wants to learn.”

Marcus glanced to Summer for support. “He has to come up with his own intention, doesn’t he? It’s only fair.”

Summer frowned thoughtfully and made a quick decision. “Cooper? Maybe you have an additional intention...?”

Shooting Marcus a look that plainly said he would kill him later, Cooper regrouped. “My intention is to make the most of the opportunities that present themselves to me here in Jackson Hole.” He hit Marcus with a sidelong glower. “Happy?”

Marcus thought it over and decided he couldn’t find fault with this new intention. “Yeah.”

“Excellent!” Summer continued around the circle. “Claudia?”

Claudia sat up straighter, looking startled that her turn had come so quickly. “Me? But I’m so delightfully perfect already, as I’m sure you’ll all agree! What could I possibly have to improve upon?”

Everyone laughed, but Marcus could see the fleeting shadows as they crossed Claudia’s eyes, and she was doing that nervous hair thing again—ruffling it when she probably meant to smooth it. He considered it a sign of how well he was getting to know her that he could see how badly she wanted to avoid looking inward. He wondered, again, who had damaged her so badly.

“And your real answer is...?” Summer pressed as the laughter died off.

“Oh, well, you know.” Claudia ducked her head and focused on stroking the cat’s tail. “I could probably try to, you know, not be so hard on myself all the time.”

“How do you mean?” Marcus asked softly, forgetting that he wasn’t the moderator here and that he thought the whole exercise was a waste of time. “How are you hard on yourself?”

“Oh, well, you know...I suppose I’m my own worst critic. Why didn’t I try harder or work harder—that sort of thing. Why didn’t I think of doing this or that to make more money or be a better friend or daughter or sister. Why aren’t I active enough in charities? Why is everyone else better at things than I am? That sort of thing. It’s the sound track that plays in my head all the time. Hazard of being the oldest child and a female, I suppose. And that’s probably way more than you wanted to hear about me, isn’t it?”

“Nope,” Marcus and Judah said at the same time.

“You’re very gracious,” Claudia said, ducking her head in a self-deprecating smile. “So, anyway, my intention is to, I don’t know, learn to be kinder to myself. How’s that?”