The Education of Madeline (24 page)

If you liked this book, pick up

KEPT,

the second book in Jami Alden's

Gemini Men series,

available now from Brava….

“W
hat's up with you going where you're not supposed to?”

The deep gruff voice slid around her, grabbed her, and wouldn't let go. Alyssa couldn't have held back her smile if she'd wanted to.

His eyes were hidden in shadow, but his mouth curved into a half smile, and a dimple creased the left corner of his mouth. His lips were firm and full, and she knew they'd be hot against her skin.

“Do I even want to know why you're hanging out at the servants' entrance looking like you're about to stick your thumb out?”

“I didn't want to have to deal with the crowd on my way out. And now my driver got into an accident, so it looks like I'm stranded for a while.”

Derek was silent for several moments, and though his eyes were shadowed, she could feel him studying her.

Ask me
.

“Can I give you a ride home?” He almost looked shocked that he'd asked.

She didn't let that stop her. “Sure,” she said without hesitation.

A slight frown creased his forehead, but he gave her a curt nod and left without another word to get his car.

As she waited she shifted on her sky-high heels, restless, alive with anticipation. After so many months on her best behavior, a reckless urge was pulsing through her. Uncontrollable, unstoppable. She needed to forget the consequences and do something outrageous.

But this time it wouldn't be for attention, publicity, or her father's censure. This time it would be all for herself. She'd been so good, watching her every move for so long. Surely she deserved a little treat?

A silver Audi rumbled up to the driveway, and Alyssa wasted no time sliding into the passenger seat. The leather was cool against her bare thighs, and the interior of the car was full of his cedar and soap scent.

He backed out of the driveway and turned the corner, passing the snarl of limos and guests crowding the circular driveway of the Bancrofts' estate.

“Where to?”

Nerves warring with desire, Alyssa rummaged in her bag and dug out her lip gloss, slicking on a coat to give herself something to do.

Derek stopped at a stop sign. “Where are we going?”

She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly bone dry. What she was about to do was crazy. Stupid.

Necessary.

“You know, it's so early,” she said, and turned to face him. She kept her eyes locked with his and placed her hand deliberately on his thigh. “And I'm not quite ready to go home.”

He stared at her hard for what felt like an eternity. His thick, dark brows drew together in a harsh scowl.

Her stomach bottomed out as she realized he was about to turn her down.

“You want to get a drink somewhere?”

The moment of truth. She slid her hand farther up his thigh, delighting in the swells and ripples of rock-hard muscle hidden beneath wool gabardine. “I'm not much for crowds. Why don't you just take me back to your place?”

Don't miss Donna Kauffman's latest,

LET ME IN,

out this month from Brava….

“I
always found you to be an attractive woman, Tate.”

Alarm filled her. But it didn't come close to matching the rush of…what? Anticipation? Surely she didn't want him to acknowledge, much less act on, the other kind of tension that was swirling around them.

“But, even in the most extreme situations, I never once considered doing what I can't seem to stop thinking about doing now.”

She was the one hallucinating now, that was it. He was still in the bathroom and she'd come into the kitchen to get soup, and had somehow fallen down a rabbit hole or something, because surely he was not standing right in front of her, saying what she thought he was saying. It was wild enough that she was having any thoughts in his general direction, but at least she had the excuse of being retired and no longer the sharp professional.

He was still team leader, actively on the job. And the only person who'd been even more the consummate professional during their years working together than she'd been. All work, no wink. That was Derek Cole. Not ever. With her, or anyone else. At least not that anyone had ever known. CJ had made it her favorite topic of conversation on more than one occasion. So, if he ever had…flung, he'd been remarkably discreet about it, which was saying something around people whose job it was to know every damn thing. It was another aspect of his character that she'd admired. So, what the hell was this?

When she finally found her voice, it was damnably shaky. “You're injured, and recently injected with God knows what, so—”

“It's not the drugs talking, Tate.”

“Well, it doesn't sound like you talking, either. At least not the you I worked for. We've got enough to deal with, without—”

“Oh, I know. Believe me. I came down the hall just now to see if I could sit in here and eat some soup. No ulterior motives. No skulking intended. Then I hear you commenting on my—”

“Must you repeat it?”

His lips quirked a little then. “See?”

“See what?”

“How is it I missed this?” he asked, sounding sincerely perplexed.

“Missed what?”

“You.”

He was looking at her like he'd just discovered something amazing, and couldn't quite believe it.

“I'm the same me, I've—”

“No. You're not. I always admired your capable, no-nonsense work ethic. You and CJ were the best agents I ever had. Which, considering the talent I had assembled, is a high, but deserved, compliment. I said before that I found you attractive. I did. And do. But I always viewed that through the filter of being your team leader, looking at that as simply another attribute you possessed to be executed professionally, where and when best deployed.”

“Just because I don't work for you now—”

“It's not just that. You're…more you now. Still everything you were, but there's so much more. I'm seeing the rest of you, probably the you you've always been, but whom I never had the pleasure of meeting. You're dry, sharp, outspoken, and surprisingly sarcastic.”

“You're right, the professional filter is off, but maybe I'm not who I was before, either. I'm leading a very different life now. I'll pull it back together, focus, find my professional balance once again, but only because I have to. And believe me, no one is more motivated to get through this and make it go away as quickly as possible. To make you go away,” she added truthfully. “To get back to the life I earned, the life I deserve. The life I
need
, Derek.” If there was a quiet pleading in her tone, she wasn't going to apologize for it. Things were complicated enough without this sudden revelation from him. Especially considering she'd been thinking very similar things about him.

Which, if he hadn't known before, he did now, given her comment about his lack of clothing. Now he knew she was noticing him, too.

Which meant one of them had to get their act together, and get it together real quick. He moved closer and leaned his weight against the counter, along with the walking stick, so he could lift his free hand.

“Derek—” She broke off when he lightly brushed his fingertips across her cheek. His touch was gentler than she'd expected. She should be smacking his hand away, not wanting to lean into the unanticipated warmth she found there. She didn't need nurturing, or caretaking, but that's not what the look in his eyes was telegraphing. What she saw there was bold, unwavering, unapologetic want.

And what he wanted, was her.

Here's a peek at

IMMORTAL DANGER,

by Cynthia Eden,

coming next month!

H
is back teeth clenched as he glanced around the room. Doors led off in every direction. He already knew where all those doors would take him. To hell.

But he needed to find Maya, so he'd have to go—

“Don't screw with me, Armand!” A woman's voice, hard, ice cold. Maya.

He turned, found her leaning over the bar, her hand wrapped around the bartender's throat.

“I want to know who went after Sean, and I want to know
now
.” He saw her fingernails stretch into claws, and he watched as those claws sank into the man's neck.

“I-I d-don't k-know—” The guy looked like he might faint at any moment. Definitely human. Vamps were always so pale, it looked like they might faint. But this guy, he'd looked pretty normal until Maya had clawed him.

“Find out!” She threw him against a wall of drinks.

Adam stalked toward her, reached her side just as she spun around, claws up.

He stilled.

She glared at him. “What the hell do you want?” she snarled, and he could see the faint edge of her fangs gleaming behind her plump lips.

It was his first time to get a good look at her face. He'd seen her from a distance before, judged her to be pretty, hadn't bothered to think much beyond that.

He blinked as he stared at her. Damn, the woman looked like some kind of angel.

Her straight hair framed her perfect, heart-shaped face. Her cheeks were high, glass sharp. Her nose was small, straight. Her eyes wide and currently the black of a vampire in hunting mode. And her lips, well, she might have the face of an angel, but she had lips made for sin.

Adam felt his cock stir,
for a vampire
.

He shuddered in revulsion.

Oh, hell, no. The woman was so not his type.

Her scent surrounded him. Not the rancid, rotting stench of death he'd smelled around others of her kind. But a light, fragrant scent, almost like flowers.

What in the hell? How could she—

Maya growled and shoved him away from her, muttering something under her breath about idiots with death wishes.

Then she walked away from him.

For a moment, he just studied her. Maya wasn't exactly his idea of an uber-vamp. She was small, too damn small for his taste. The woman was barely five feet four. Her body was slender, with almost boyish hips. Her legs were encased in an old, faded pair of jeans, and the black T-shirt she wore clung gently to her small breasts.

He liked a woman with more meat on her bones. Liked a woman with curves. A woman with round, lush hips that he could hold while he thrust deep into her.

But, well, he wasn't interested in screwing Maya, anyway. Not with her too thin body. Her too pale skin. No, he didn't want to screw her.

He just planned to use her.

Adam took two quick strides forward, grabbed her arm, and swung her back toward him.

The eyes that had relaxed to a bright blue shade instantly flashed black. Vamps' eyes always changed to black when they fought or when they fucked.

Sometimes folks made the mistake of confusing vamps with demons, because a demon's eyes, well, they could go black, too. Actually, Adam knew that a demon's eyes were
always
black. And for the demons, every damn part of their eyes went black. Cornea. Iris. Lens. With the vamps, just the iris changed.

Usually demons were smart enough to hide the true nature of their eyes. But the vamps, they didn't seem to give a flying shit who saw the change. 'Course, if a human happened to see the eye shift, it was generally too late for the poor bastard because, by then, he was prey.

Gazing into Maya's relentless black eyes, Adam had a true inkling of just how those poor bastards must have felt.

A growl rumbled in her throat, then she snarled, “Slick, you're screwing with the wrong woman tonight.”

No, she was the right woman. Whether he liked the fact or not.

So he clenched his teeth, swallowed his pride and, in the midst of hell, admitted, “I need your help.”