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Disappointment twisted a knot in her anticipation, choking it off.
Scott welcomed a couple dressed as pro wrestlers then pointed them toward the bar. “Why don’t you just call him at the P.D.?” he asked Arianna.
“It doesn’t suit my purposes.”
He turned to her, his brows raised, a smile flickering. “So you weren’t telling me the truth when you asked me to include him on the guest list. It’s personal, not business.”
“It’s business, in a personal way,” she offered, along with a smile. The business was her own.
“He likes beautiful women. He would like you a lot, Arianna.”
“Flatterer,” she said in return. She didn’t want Detective Joe Vicente of the LAPD to like her, however. The one time they’d met, last December, she’d felt a pull toward him that seemed reciprocated, but he hadn’t followed up on it. Neither had she. Mutual attraction. Mutual reluctance. She’d been glad then. He would’ve been hard to say no to, but she definitely would’ve said no.
“Have I told you how stunning you look in that flamenco costume?” Scott eyed the large red rose tucked behind her ear in her low-coiled hair. He winked. “I wouldn’t mind a private performance.”
She gave him a sultry look—or she hoped it was sultry, but she was wearing a mask, so she wasn’t sure he could tell. She knew he had no interest in a private performance; he had a beautiful wife whom he adored. But Arianna raised an arm anyway, assumed a classic dance pose and clicked her castanets above her head. Her ruffled skirt brushed her knees in front and her ankles in back. She’d wanted to draw Detective Vicente’s attention tonight. A wasted effort now.
With a laugh she tugged on Scott’s long white barrister’s wig then walked away, wandering out to the backyard bar by the pool, stopping here and there to talk with other guests as she went. She had the bartender add another toothpick full of olives to the drink she would baby all evening, then went in search of a quiet spot to consider her next move. How could she get Joe Vicente’s unofficial help?
She moved along a path around the pool, past the cabana and into a dense profusion of fragrant vegetation, following the sound of trickling water to its source—a rock waterfall in a hidden grotto, humid and verdant.
She stopped when she saw a man dressed in black standing next to the falls, lost in his own world, a tall, lean man with dark hair, wearing high boots, snug pants, loosely flowing shirt and a dashing hat, tipped forward rakishly. A mask hid half his face. Zorro. He carried himself well, his posture perfect, with a hint of the arrogance Zorro was known for. She expected him to draw his sword and slash a Z in the air at any moment.
Intrigued, Arianna straightened her satin mask and took a step toward him. Perhaps the evening wouldn’t be a complete waste, after all.
Joe’s nose twitched as a spicy scent assaulted him then radiated to the far reaches of his body, creating a sudden, intense heat. He searched for the fragrant flower source but saw instead a woman approaching him—tall and dark-haired, with a body better than dreams could usually conjure up. Her costume was exotic-looking. Skinny straps, low cut, fitting each amazing curve snugly and ending in ruffles that undulated with every step. Long legs, high heels. Red and black, satin and lace. A rose behind her ear. Red lips. A small beauty mark at the corner of her mouth. Black mask trimmed in lace. Dark, unfathomable eyes behind it.
She looked like sex, if it had a human name.
“Buenos noches,” she said with a perfect accent, her teeth white against the red lipstick.
“Buenos noches.” He guessed her age as thirty. She wasn’t wearing a ring.
“May I join you?” she asked.
He held out a hand to help her negotiate the final steps leading to the substantial rock ledge where he stood. Her breasts were covered only by a layer of smooth lace, her nipples pressing against the fabric. He managed to shift his focus to her face as she pulled her hand free.
“Thank you,” she said, then looked around. “This is beautiful, isn’t it? I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“You are. Thank you.”
She smiled.
Joe tried to place her. There was something familiar about her. Her voice? Her body? With that kind of self-assurance, an actress, he decided. Could he have seen her in a movie? Joe knew most of the criminal attorneys in the L.A. area. None of them looked like her. If she would take off her mask…
“So, you’re not wearing your cape, Zorro,” the woman said.
“It’s not a black-tie event.”
Her laugh was light and musical and seemed to have magic powers. The burn in his stomach cooled to a simmer. “Do you dance?” he asked.
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“I mean as you’re dressed—flamenco.” He wanted to see her in motion, to smell her spicy perfume as her body heated up. It had been so long since he’d felt anything remotely close to lust, he almost didn’t recognize the signs—how his breathing turned shallow and his pulse pounded and his body went on alert, as if a caution sign had been placed in front of him, a sign he wanted to plow through. Caution be damned.
“I dance,” she said, confidence in the lift of her chin, the move emphasizing her slender neck.
He waited. She didn’t offer to perform. Tension hovered between them, although it was more anticipation than uneasiness.
“How do you know Scott?” she asked, breaking the silence.
He’d started to get swept into a fantasy. Her question brought him back to earth. “Professionally. You?”
“The same.”
That nagging sense of familiarity returned. Had Scott defended her? A case that generated media attention?
She gestured toward the path leading back to the pool area. “I think perhaps I interrupted you, after all,” she said, her expression as apologetic as her mask would allow. “I’ll go.”
“No.” He caught her by the hand then didn’t release her. He hadn’t realized how little he’d spoken. Obviously he had made her uncomfortable. “I had a rough day.” Week. Month. Year. “I thought I dreamed you up.”
Her dark gaze held him captive. “I’m quite real.”
“I can see that.” He didn’t know what else to say. She was like a beacon in the fog of his world. He wanted to follow the light, to let it shine on him, to brighten his existence. Pure selfishness, he admitted, since he had nothing to offer her or any woman except dead emotions, a screwed-up mind, an ulcer, probably, and the short fuse of a man long deprived of uninterrupted sleep. Plus a job in jeopardy. Oh, yeah. He had a lot going for him, all right.
Take back your life. Again the lieutenant’s words assaulted him. Suddenly he wanted his life back. No, not back, but better.
The woman continued to study him. He didn’t break eye contact. Couldn’t. Something about her demanded that he look deeply into her eyes, to allow her to look into his, not an easy feat with masks on. Finally she set her martini glass aside and took a step toward him.
“Dance?” she asked, soft and low, as music filtered in from hidden speakers.
He took her into his arms. Her body felt lithe and limber as they moved to the slow rhythm. He pulled the rose from her hair and dragged it across her cheek. Her eyes glittered darkly. He went hard with need.
One strap of her sexy dress slid off her shoulder and down her arm. He hooked a finger into the fallen strap and dragged it onto her shoulder. She didn’t protest nor did she encourage him toward more. He let his finger slide down the strap until it met fabric. Her breast cushioned his hand; he felt her breath stop then tugged her toward him, his gaze on hers, lowered his head, brought his mouth close—
“Well. I see you’ve met,” Scott Simons said into the magic moment.
Joe swore.
Two
The stranger’s single, explicit curse flattered Arianna, but before she could decide why, he took a step back from her. Regret and relief assaulted her simultaneously. She was aroused, more than she’d been in a long time, and she’d known him for ten minutes! She should be grateful that Scott had come along….
But she wasn’t.
“Everyone has unmasked,” Scott said, grinning as if something momentous was about to happen.
Arianna glanced at the man dressed as Zorro. Would he take off his mask? He seemed reluctant—or maybe he was still caught up in what they’d just experienced. She’d danced with him because she’d recognized something even his mask couldn’t hide—a kindred spirit. Battle weariness. Like her. So they’d distracted each other from whatever demons haunted them.
Arianna lifted her mask away. He seemed to stop breathing. She saw his eyes close for longer than a blink, then he took off his hat and untied his mask.
“Yes, we’ve met,” he said to Scott, but looking at her. “Ms. Alvarado. It’s nice to see you again.”
She wanted to punch Scott in the mouth. Anything to wipe that stupid grin off his face. “Detective,” she said calmly to the man she’d come to the party hoping to see. “How’ve you been?”
“Business, my ass,” Scott said before he left them alone.
“What was that supposed to mean?” Joe asked.
“Does anyone know why Scott says the things he does?” she replied, her fists clenched. She ran a few sentences through her head. Everything sounded inane. “Well,” she began.
One corner of his mouth lifted. “That was interesting.”
Her shoulders loosened. “‘Interesting’ tells me nothing.”
“Care to put your spin on it?”
She settled on honesty, especially since she had a favor to ask of him. “I don’t usually come on that strong.”
His brows lifted as if he didn’t quite believe her. He tucked her rose back in her hair. His fingertips grazed her ear then her neck, his gaze serious. “Thank you for the dance.”
She shivered. Annoyance came hard and fast. What was going on? She knew how to control her reaction but made no effort to. That attraction she’d felt last December was as strong as ever. “You’re welcome.”
She wanted to ask him why he’d come, since Scott had been adamant that Joe wouldn’t dress for Halloween. “I like your choice of costume,” she said.
“I can’t wait to take it off. How about you?”
She swallowed the innuendo that sprang to mind. “I’m comfortable in mine.” She couldn’t be alone with him for one more minute. She’d never been so unguardedly drawn to anyone, ever. If she wanted his help, she needed to stay businesslike, to act like the thirty-three-year-old professional woman she was, not some hormonal teenager. “Shall we head back to the party?”
“All right,” he said, although with surprise on his face. “I take it your firm has done work for Scott?”
“For a number of years.” She led the way down the path toward the pool. She’d been a private investigator for seven years. Her company, ARC Security & Investigations, did consulting and investigative work for many attorneys in the area, especially on high-profile cases.
“I met him eighteen years ago,” Joe said. “He was my training officer after I graduated from the academy. We stayed in touch for a long time.” They emerged from the trail. “Although I hadn’t seen him in a couple of years. He’s been busy.”
“I see him more on television than in the office these days, too,” she said, eyeing the crowd mingling around the pool. She didn’t want to ask her favor tonight at the party. She also didn’t dare leave him alone, since Scott might decide to tell him she’d specifically requested he be invited.
Now what? She couldn’t leave until he did. And she couldn’t wander away. Small talk?
“Do you know anyone else here?” she asked.
“No. Did you come alone?”
I wanted to see you. “Yes.”
“That surprises me.” He gestured to a couple of chaise lounges. “We should grab those while they’re empty. Can I get you a drink?”
She’d left hers behind at the waterfall, she realized. “Yes, please. Martini with a twist, extra olives.”
“I’ll be right back.”
She’d barely settled on a lounge when Scott sat down on the one next to hers.
“Did you know he was here?” she asked, watching Joe talk to the bartender.
Scott looked at her over his wineglass, then took a sip. “Yes.”
“Is that how you entertain yourself?”
“You’re a cool one, aren’t you, Arianna?” He settled a little more comfortably. “Controlled. Smart. I’d never seen you ruffled by anything until you found out I knew Joe.”
“It was a simple favor to ask, inviting him to the party,” she said, wishing she had her drink already, needing the prop.
“More than that, I think.”
She hesitated. Joe was walking toward them. “You won’t say anything.”
“I don’t know how this is going to play out.” He smiled, patted her knee and stood, making room for Joe, leaning to whisper in her ear, “You know he’s not engaged anymore, right?”
Arianna said nothing. She didn’t know he had been engaged. Was that the reason for the battle-weary look in his eyes? Had he broken it off or had his fiancée?
She thanked Joe as he passed her the drink then raised her brows at Scott, indicating he could move on.
Scott grinned. “So, how do you two know each other?”
“We met during Alexis Wells’s attempted murder last year,” Arianna said, aware of Joe taking a seat beside her and stretching out those long legs. His knee-high black Zorro boots made her smile. “Joe was the detective in charge of the case.”
“You worked together? The cop and the P.I.? Strange bedfellows.” He met Arianna’s gaze and smiled benignly.
“We shared information without insulting each other’s profession,” Joe said. “She’s a cut above in her field.”
“Yeah. Most P.I.s only get to eat what they kill,” Scott responded. “But not Arianna and her partners.”
“We work hard.” Her irritation grew. She’d always had a great business relationship with Scott. Why was he making things difficult for her now?
“Scott,” Joe said, his voice quiet but firm. “I like you. But if you continue to offend Ms. Alvarado, she’s going to leave. And I’m not going to like you anymore.”
A few seconds ticked by, then Scott lifted his glass to Joe. “To the thrill of the chase.”
Joe stared back.
“Thanks,” Arianna said when their host walked away.
Joe shrugged. “Sometimes he doesn’t know when to quit.”
“I’ve noticed.” She slid a green olive off the toothpick and sucked on it. “Pushing the right buttons is what makes him good in the courtroom, though.”
“But lousy as a friend sometimes.” Joe leaned toward her. “Would you like to get out of here? Go somewhere quiet?”
