Risking It All: The Proposition / The Dare / The Favour / The P.I. / The Cop / The Defender

Scooting to the edge of the wall, she didn’t even count to three before she took the plunge. And then he was holding her tightly against that body again. For one scorching moment, she was aware of nothing but hard angles and rock-hard muscles pressing into her. An instant later, he set her on her feet with an abruptness that had her taking a quick step back to the wall for support. Before she could even be sure of her balance, he turned away and started toward the drive with the dogs loping along happily at his side.

Rory frowned at him. Then she took several quick steps to catch up. She’d come here to get an interview with Jared Slade. The one she’d been promised. And she wasn’t going to give up.

But as she followed him up the curved driveway, she found her focus slipping again. Even from the back, he radiated a kind of raw energy that was both primitive and sexual. If she’d inherited just a portion of her sisters’ planning genes, perhaps she could have stopped staring at the damp hair that curled low at the back of his neck. Or she might have kept her gaze from drifting down the length of his back and lower.

His sweats were made of some thin material that fit snugly over his backside. Her eyes lingered there as her stomach clenched and she started to lose the feeling in her legs. She knew what it would feel like to slip her hands beneath the waistband and explore that taut, smooth skin. Would it be as hot as it had been the last time—as hot as hers was beginning to feel? Rory’s eyes widened as she watched her hands reach out of their own accord. Snatching them back, she stumbled.

In a move so quick, it sent whatever breath she had left backing up into her lungs, he turned and grabbed both of her arms to steady her. “You all right?”

No, she was anything but all right. She was turning into one big puddle of lust. And it was clear that he wasn’t. At least not anymore. His eyes were almost clinical as they searched her face. “I’ll get you something to drink when we get to the house.”

She didn’t need anything to drink—except perhaps a long swallow of him, but he didn’t seem to be on the same wavelength anymore.

Wasn’t that just the story of her life when it came to men? Try as she might, she just didn’t have the equipment to turn men into lust puddles. At least not for very long. Otherwise, he would have pulled her to him and that gorgeous mouth would be feasting on hers again.

But it wasn’t. And she was not going to think about what that mouth had felt like on hers. She couldn’t afford to go there. One thing at a time, she told herself. Getting the interview required all of her concentration. Drawing in a deep breath, she met his eyes and said, “I’m…fine.”

His gaze remained locked on hers for one more moment, and Rory held her breath, hoping that nothing he saw would betray her.

Finally, he nodded. “Watch your step on the gravel.” Then dropping his hands, he turned and led the way along a path to a patio. Just as they passed through open French doors into what looked like a study, the phone rang. She lingered in the doorway as he strode to the desk and picked it up. Grateful for a slight reprieve, she pulled her eyes away from him and looked around the room. Three of the walls were lined with books that looked like they’d been read.

“Yes?” He spoke the word into the phone as if he’d been expecting the call. “We need to talk. Just hang on a minute, will you?” He set the phone down, then moved toward her. “I have some business to discuss. Would you mind waiting out on the patio for a bit?”

“No.” She stepped back through the French doors.

“There’s a housekeeper—a man named McGee. The Wainwrights left him in charge when they went back to D.C. I’ll have him bring you something to drink. Would you prefer coffee? Iced tea? A soft drink?”

“There’s no need. Really.”

His brows lifted. “I’m going to tell him to bring you something, so you might as well take your choice.”

She raised her hands, palms out. “Okay. Coffee would be fine.”

“Good. Why don’t you go over and sit by the pool? It’s cooler there. I’ll join you as soon as I’m finished on the phone.”

When he stepped back into the study and closed the French doors in her face, Rory had the distinct feeling she’d been handled and dismissed. Through the glass, she watched as he circled the desk, then met her eyes again and waited. For five long beats, she stayed right where she was. But it was the wrong battle to draw a line in the sand for. Turning away, she started toward the pool. As Jared Slade’s vice president in charge of retail acquisitions, he was probably used to giving orders and having them obeyed.

She’d never been good at taking orders or following someone else’s agenda, but she’d do what he wanted for now. She had a feeling she’d need all the energy she could muster up to get that interview.

FOR A LONG MINUTE, Hunter didn’t pick up the phone. Instead he let himself recall just what she’d felt like pressed against him for that moment after she’d jumped off the wall. He hadn’t wanted to let her go. For an instant, every bit of the desire he’d felt for her in that dressing room had returned. And it wasn’t going to go away.

Not seeing her again might have solved the problem. But avoiding her wasn’t going to be possible now. Frowning, he picked up the phone and said, “Tracker?”

“I’m still here. I take it you have a visitor?”

“Yeah. Rory Gibbs. Seems she got wind of the possibility that Jared Slade was here to consult Lucas Wainwright’s chief of security. She knew about the bomb scare, too, but she assured me that part was off the record.”

Tracker swore, then said, “Do you know her source?”

“Sources. And you’re not going to like it,” Hunter said. Then he repeated Rory’s explanation.

“Damn,” Tracker said. “Sophie is usually more discreet than that.”

“Don’t blame her,” Hunter said. “She was talking to friends. One of them just happened to be the sister of a woman who’s determined to interview Jared Slade. My bad luck and Rory Gibbs’s good fortune.”

“Look, I just put my man on Lucas’s private plane. I’ll come out to the estate and have a talk with her.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Hunter said.

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. “I’m listening.”

“She seems to always be at the right place at the right time, but I don’t think she’s being fed information. She’s just got brains and good luck. And a reporter’s curiosity—which could mean trouble.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I wish the hell I knew.” But talking to Tracker was helping him work through it. And it wasn’t hurting that Rory Gibbs wasn’t in the same room. His brain cells were beginning to function again. Through the window, he could see her reaching the gate of the pool. The dogs were romping around her, but they didn’t seem to scare her. She stooped down, picked up a stick and shot it away. The dogs tore after it. “She’s…”

“Yes?” Tracker asked.

A constant surprise, Hunter thought. But what he said was, “She’s a loose cannon.”

“Meaning?”

“I’m afraid if you talk to her, warn her off, it’s only going to make her more curious. She’ll start digging, probing.” He started to pace back and forth in the space behind the desk. “It’s like she’s got a sixth sense or something. I’m afraid that she may even come up with the theory that I’m Jared Slade.”

“And if she does?” Tracker asked.

“I’m trying to prevent that. I told her that Slade’s gone, that I’m his vice president in charge of retail acquisitions. That’s when she guessed I was acquiring Silken Fantasies.”

Tracker couldn’t prevent a laugh. “She’s as smart as her sisters.”

“I wonder if she knows that,” Hunter mused.

“How’s that?”

“Nothing.” He watched the huge black Labs race toward her, topple her over on the grass. When she sat up and looped her arms around their necks and let them lick her face, he was abruptly and totally charmed.

“I’m going to keep her here until we sort this out,” Hunter said.

“And just how do you plan to do that?”

The plan was beginning to take shape in his mind. “Jared Slade doesn’t give interviews. I’ll offer her the next best thing—an interview with his vice president in charge of retail acquisitions, Mark Hunter. I use that name when I travel,” he explained. “There’s even a personnel file on Mark Hunter in the Dallas office.” Then he thought to ask, “I assume there won’t be any problem with her staying here on the estate?”

For five beats there was dead silence on the other end of the line. “She’s the sister of a friend of mine. I don’t want to see her hurt. Her sister wouldn’t want to see her hurt. Neither would Lucas.”

Hunter’s brows rose. There was a clear warning in Tracker’s voice. “Let’s look at it this way. The interview will be legit, and it will be the next best thing to interviewing Jared Slade. She’ll have the scoop she needs to get her a full-time staff position at Celebs. And I’ll have the certainty that she’s here where I can keep an eye on her while you’re springing the trap we’ve set.”

“I don’t know,” Tracker said.