Caught in the Act

“But seriously, I can’t imagine settling down with one woman when there are so many beautiful ones out there.”

“Someday. Someday, Ryan, maybe you’ll find the one that makes you forget the rest.”

Ryan grunted his doubts, leering at a sexy demon as she passed by on her way to the bar, sheathed in red spandex, her tail flicking wickedly behind her.

“Well, may that day be far, far away,” he said with a low whistle.

“I’m sure it is. Is that paint permanent?” Mason asked about his brother’s tribal markings.

“It’s edible, man. It can be licked off.”

Mason held up his hands and cut off his brother’s next comment. “Okay, that comes dangerously close to an image I don’t want in my head.”

“Sorry.” Ryan laughed, completely unabashed and not really sorry at all. Ryan’s hand clamped on his brother’s shoulder. “You need to loosen up, Mason. You’re wearing your suit and tie even when you’re not. Find a woman here and have some fun. That’s what I intend to do,” he said, making eye contact with Miss Muffet, who smiled coyly in their direction.

“Yeah, whatever,” Mason said, feeling unaccountably old at that moment. As he watched Ryan strut across the room, he thought maybe his younger brother was right. He should be enjoying his own party, and why do that alone? Sporting a fangy smile, he started moving around the crowd, looking for a woman whom he might like to bite.

It just so happened he didn’t have to look for long—in fact, she popped out in front of the entire room, appearing on the stage in a breathtaking glimmer of cherry-red. Large brown eyes took them all in for a moment, her curly dark hair framing a delicate, heart-shaped face, at least insofar as he could tell with her mask covering the top half of it.

Her lips were painted as red as her costume. He couldn’t look away.

Mason walked closer to the edge of the temporary stage he’d had set up for the party’s entertainment. She wasn’t small, maybe just a few inches shorter than his six-foot frame, though it was hard to tell since she was wearing heels that inspired lust low in his belly.

His eyes traveled up the pale length of shapely calf and thigh to the sensuous blossom of her hip, the inviting dip into a slim waist that expanded back out again at the level of ample breasts, barely covered by slim strips of sparkling red material. She filled out that bodysuit in a way that made him stop breathing when he took a closer look. He licked his lips, wanting more than a bite.

She seemed surprised, as if she hadn’t expected the crowd—was she new to this? Maybe all performers had some stage fright before a performance, similar to the nervous energy he always experienced when going to court.

Then those supple red lips revealed a perfect smile. She said “Hi, there” in a sultry voice that fantasies were made of. His dick sprang instantly hard and he was thankful for the dark outfit and the cape.

The audience crowded inward, several whistles welcoming her. Her slow walk to center stage was the stuff of all men’s dreams. With a look at the band, and then back at the crowd before her, she winked. It might as well have been him standing there alone as aware as he was of anyone else—there was only her.

She was magic.

Who was this amazing woman? She ran through a little nervous patter, as if she was still getting used to the idea of being up on stage. It was utterly charming, only adding to her sex appeal. The crowd loved her before she’d even sung a note.

Mason swallowed deeply as the room went black, anticipation rising. Another light clicked on and he breathed again as he saw she was still there. A spotlight focused only on her, with her back to the crowd, revealing a rear view that was just as luscious as the front. He flexed his hands, thinking about closing his palms over that absolutely perfect ass.

She tipped her cane to a saucy angle and started tapping her foot in time with the hushed drumbeat as music started. When she turned, letting the first lyric slide out on a throaty note that was part growl, part whisper, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven, though he’d gladly follow her to hell for a body and a voice like hers.

“Man, she’s smokin',” a voice said beside him, filled with sheer male appreciation and no small amount of lust. Mason just glared, drawing an inquisitive look from the guy he realized was one of the senior partners, Ron Deerfield, who was in his fifties, long married with grandchildren.

“Smokin'?”

“Yes, sir, a hottie. You know her, I take it?” Ron asked.

“No, but I’m going to,” Mason said resolutely.

Ron laughed and nodded in agreement. “If I were twenty years younger and Joan wouldn’t flay me alive, I’d give you a run for your money getting to her first.”

Mason looked at him in shock, and Ron laughed, slapping him on the back. “Hey, I’m fifty-five, not dead. And I have the kids around constantly. They keep me young. I wonder who she is. Star quality, that one.”

Mason lost track of the conversation as he realized the singer never introduced herself. Odd, especially if this is how she made her bread and butter. As she wrapped up a snazzy tune, some of the crowd sang along. She had them in the palm of her hand. People were dancing and shouting in raucous appreciation as she flipped her hat out into the crowd.

After what seemed like hours, she finished with her first set, taking bows and exiting the stage. Mason nearly plowed over a few people, including a few very lucrative clients, rushing to meet her behind the makeshift curtain. As he pushed the heavy material to the side and searched for a scarlet sparkle, there was nothing.

She was gone.

2

GINA COULDN’T ESCAPE fast enough, bolting once she got back behind the curtain, making a beeline for the bathroom she’d noticed earlier.

Lord, she was shaking like a leaf, adrenaline pounding through her system, and she thought she might be sick.

It had been one of the most incredible experiences of her life. Even if she did have a heart attack now that it was over, she’d die happy. The first song had been a bit pitchy, but then she’d found her rhythm and something had clicked. The audience was so responsive she couldn’t help but let loose and give it her all. It was as if she’d turned into a completely different woman on stage.

As she passed by the mirror in the bathroom, she caught sight of her sexy outfit and flushed cheeks, and looked into her own large, bright eyes. Was that her?

Wow.

She did look sexy, like she’d just had a heck of a roll in the hay, though to be honest, her performance was more satisfying and exciting than any sex she’d had in her life. Sad, but true.

It had to be the outfit, the disguise. She’d once heard Halloween referred to as “Come as you aren’t night,” and that was certainly true in her case. She’d never been as overtly sexy as she’d been on stage. She’d never have been able to carry it off without the mask and knowing she was completely anonymous.

It was also liberating not to be compared to Tracy for once. She’d never really understood how much she craved that, to be at center stage, growing up in her pretty, younger sister’s shadow. The thought sobered her and reminded her why she was here, and it wasn’t for the ego boost.

She was here to steal those photos from Mason Scott, who’d been front and center for her performance. Even in his costume, she’d recognized him from his picture on the Internet Web site for his firm. He was much more imposing in person. She’d tried to avoid eye contact, but the guy was like a magnet. His presence filled the room, a sexy vampire looking at her like she was dinner. The way his eyes latched on to her made her feel even more naked than she actually was.

Oddly, she’d liked it. Or her make-believe self did, anyway.

Mason had made her hotter with a look than any other man had done with more, and she had to remind herself he was the enemy. A sinfully gorgeous enemy who had a heavy swath of dark hair falling partly down over his brow and intense green eyes. Even his makeup and fangs couldn’t mask his strong jawline and passionate mouth, or his nicely shaped, classic chin.

Moving to the sink, she splashed a little cold water on her face and calmed down somewhat. Her cabaret singer self wondered what it would have been like to sing a song right to Mason, to tempt him the way he was tempting her. What would it be like to be with a man like that?

“This costume is doing things to my brain, apparently,” she whispered to herself, shaking off the fantasy and intending to blend in to the crowd.

Taking a deep breath, she oriented herself in the room and spotted the main hallway that Tracy said led to the back offices. Getting there was a whole different deal—someone stopped her every three feet to praise her performance. When the waiter offered her a drink, she took it, downing the champagne in one shot and grabbing a second for courage.

By the time she reached the hallway on the other side, she was giddy and overly warm, and she had collected three men’s phone numbers—not that she planned on using them, but still … Maybe she’d crash costume parties more often.

Peeking around to make sure she wasn’t seen slipping away, she made her way down the hall and spotted the large double doors that led to the office. Turning the knob, she found the doors were locked, as she expected. Of course her life would never be that easy.

However, Tracy had described a second entrance, off of another hallway—one that only Mason used. Maybe it wasn’t locked, since no one would be in that part of the house.

Exploring some of the pathways off the main hall, she began to get frustrated and worried—how many rooms did this place have? Finally, she saw a small door at the bottom of a set of narrow stairs, and tried that. Voila! It opened, and inside the office sprawled before her.

She might have walked onto the set of a TV legal drama, the set was so classic. Bookcases on every side, lots of leather and a huge desk dominating the center of the room. Several deep, comfortable chairs were placed by the bookshelves and there was a huge grandfather clock in one corner. She wondered if Mason was a traditional guy, or if this was just his professional persona. The way he’d watched her earlier certainly hadn’t been in the least bit staid.

“Okay … so, he must have files, and the pictures would probably be in the files,” she reasoned out loud, heading to several large, wooden file cabinets behind the desk.