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His aura reeked of sexuality, and her own answering tension told her he was nearby.
She couldn’t wait to spoil his good time.
Then she poked Kit and nodded up at the thumbnail-size cameras in the corners of the foyer. Kit followed her gaze. Then she gestured at their hostess. “Is she even legal?”
Sam was amused, and she glanced at their host, who was handsome and tanned in a black tuxedo, his face obviously lifted, his hair that funny shade of medium brown that every older man seemed to sport in order to cover up the gray. While he had to be close to sixty, even if he’d been under the knife and was lean and fit, his wife looked twenty—if that. She wore a bubble-gum pink evening gown that was more of a second skin than a dress. Sam pegged it as Versace. From this distance, Rupert reeked of arrogance and wealth, but not evil. Sam could sense evil as easily as she sensed white power, and she suspected him to be human with a few drops of demonic blood.
It was finally their turn to meet and greet. Rupert looked at her, his eyes widening with obvious male interest. He looked carefully at her lush chest, which was not the obvious boob job his wife was showing off, and then at her long, hard legs. He glanced at Kit, who wore a classic black sheath and had actually put on lip gloss. He smiled slowly at them. “You must be Sam Rose and Kit Mars, from World Media.”
Sam had noted that Becca Hemmer didn’t care about her husband ogling other women—and why should she? Sam had read up on the Hemmers while getting dressed. She was young, gorgeous and smart enough to have signed a pre-nuptial agreement that made her one of the city’s wealthiest women, no matter what happened to her marriage. And apparently, Becca liked to play as much as he did.
Sam dismissed her as irrelevant and smiled back at Hemmer, giving him a come-hither-if-you-dare look. “None other.” She extended her hand. “I’m Sam Rose. I was wondering how long it would take for us to meet, Mr. Hemmer.”
He grasped it warmly. “All my guests are instructed to call me Rupert.”
“Rupert,” Sam murmured. “It’s been a while since I had instruction.”
He smiled slightly as he absorbed the innuendo. “How interesting.” He added, “Had I realized World Media had publicists like you two, I think I would have been persuaded to give you my business much more easily.” His gaze was suddenly hooded.
Sam wondered if they’d been made. “Is the rest of the team here?”
“I believe so,” he murmured. “John Ensign and Charles Dupre were two of the first to arrive.”
She felt Kit’s tension. “Jack Ensign,” she corrected casually. “We all call him Jack.”
“Ah, yes, of course, my mistake. So, do come inside and help yourself to the bubbly. Perhaps we can chat a bit later about the project. I look forward to hearing your ideas.”
“I look forward to sharing them.” Sam smiled pleasantly at Becca as she and Kit moved into a huge living room with gilded crystal chandeliers and modern furniture upholstered in various shades of white. Nick had told her almost two hundred guests would be present, and Sam decided that he’d been right. The men were in tuxedoes, the women sporting lavish jewels, some in long evening gowns, like Becca. White-coated waiters were passing champagne in expensive flutes and hors d’oeuvres on sterling silver trays. It took Sam a second to decide that Maclean was not in the reception area. Was he already in the vault? She shivered. She was more than ready to find out. Her pulse beat a bit more swiftly now.
“Did we pass?” Kit murmured.
“I think he’s suspicious.” But she didn’t give a damn about their host now.
“Did you have time to read up on the project?”
“No, and I intend to avoid Hemmer. With this crowd, I don’t think he can get away for a tête-à-tête anyway. Are you okay? I’m going to explore.”
“I’m fine. Be careful. Hemmer stinks.”
Sam smiled and drifted off into the crowd. As she did, a flash of bright pink caught her eye. She turned and saw Becca making her way alone through the crowd—no easy task, as she was constantly greeted and congratulated. Sam turned to locate Hemmer. She finally saw him, still close to the front door, chatting with the mayor and a famous woman news anchor with sinking ratings. Sam turned back to Becca, just in time to see her slip from the reception room, past two big security guards.
Now what did that mean? Becca did not seem like a party pooper. She managed to find Kit. “I need a diversion so I can canvas the rest of the place.”
“You can create a better diversion in that getup than I ever could.”
“Stop selling yourself short,” Sam said, meaning it.
A moment later, Sam was posed not far from the door Becca had exited, where the two big security guards stood. A woman not far from the doorway cried out, “Someone just stole my purse! Someone just ripped my bag from my hands!”
As the two security guards rushed to her, Sam slipped into the hallway. It was quiet within, the lights lower. An elevator faced her, which would go up to the Hemmers’ private rooms. She walked swiftly past it, her lipstick now in hand. The case was actually a camera. She started taking photos as she passed a library and a media room. She did not think she’d run into Becca—she was pretty certain she’d gone upstairs.
She passed an office and came to the end of the hall. A glass-enclosed, Olympic-size indoor lap pool faced her. On her left was a huge steel door.
She had found the vault.
Maclean’s power beckoned, tangible and hot, but he was not in that vault. Sam took more photographs, aware that she was being videotaped—those thumbnail-size video cameras were everywhere. She was careful not to get too close, setting off motion sensors and alarms.
When she was finished, she put the camera away. Maclean was around, but where? And where was Becca? She’d obviously gone upstairs—but Sam didn’t think she’d gone to change her shoes. “Such a naughty girl,” she murmured. She would be surprised if she didn’t find them together, she decided. Maclean would probably think it amusing to screw his host’s wife.
Sam went quietly back the way she had come, her senses in overdrive. She did not rush—she would find him, sooner or later. Hunting put her at the top of her game. The elevator was set far enough back from the reception that she could easily get to it without being noticed. It was whisper-quiet, too. She stepped inside, her gaze on the backs of the guards, but neither one turned her way. She pressed the single button there. The elevator moved up to the building’s top floor.
She felt the hot sex before she saw it. She felt him. The air was somehow thicker and humid upstairs. Testosterone filled it. Lust thickened her. Most women would drop everything to be with Maclean, and she could hear Becca now, in the throes. Sam paused. The door to a bedroom was ajar. Becca’s cries became deep, uncontrollable sobs. Her own heart was thundering, her body tight. Sam pushed open the door.
She’d forgotten how damn good-looking he was. How unbelievably sexy he was. Becca wept in her climax, sprawled on her belly on the bed, her skirts pushed up to her back. Maclean stood behind her, fully dressed. He was driving hard and deep, steadily, his face strained, at once hard, cold and almost ruthless. He was intent on his own satisfaction.
Becca was out of all control. Ian Maclean was not.
She wet her lips, compelled to watch. How had she forgotten those gorgeous features? Most beautiful men looked effeminate. Not Maclean. In spite of those long-lashed gray eyes and that perfect, almost pretty nose, he had a hard jaw, and high cheekbones. But he was more than that face. She’d never seen him without his clothes, but she knew his body was all long, hard muscle. And mostly, there was his sex drive. Sam had recognized a kindred spirit, in that one way. Maclean was oversexed and probably insatiable.
He’d be hard to please.
Becca’s sobs and moans filled the room. Maclean kept driving, not making a sound. Sam knew Becca had been easy to seduce. She’d bet just about anything that Maclean had never been given a run for his money.
She breathed harder. A terrible tension consumed her now. Well, there was one woman he couldn’t seduce.
Maclean suddenly made a harsh sexual sound, his only one. And he looked up at her.
The moment their gazes locked, Sam realized he wasn’t surprised to see her. In the next second, she saw that he wasn’t blinded by lust. His gaze was gray and clear. As she stared at him, he began to smile, as if he had a secret he really liked.
Sam’s heart turned over, hard.
“Ye took yer time,” he murmured, stepping away from his gasping lover.
Sam was trying to comprehend the fact that, just like at Loch Awe, he’d been expecting her. But her every coherent thought vanished as he reached for his gaping trousers, because her gaze veered to his hands.
Her thundering heart slammed. She forgot to breathe.
He slowly grinned, somehow jerking the zipper entirely up.
He wore a silver ring there.
She’d seen body piercings, of course. Just not there—and not like that.
“Something got yer tongue?” he mocked softly.
She choked and her mind came to life. “Having fun? Because I hate to be the one to ruin your private party.” But she wanted to wipe the perspiration from her cleavage and brow. Her body was rioting. So much for worrying about her sex drive.
“Hot?” His gaze followed her fingers as she wiped the moisture away. “Surely ye’ve seen a cock ring before.”
Sam felt her fake smile vanish. “That was some welcome, Maclean. Too bad I’m not into voyeurism.” She tried to be flippant. “Nice jewelry.”
His brows lifted as he sauntered toward her. “Admit it. I make ye hot, Sam, an’ ye loved watching.”
Sam realized that Becca was scrambling off the bed and racing toward the door. She swallowed, Becca’s exit giving her a much-needed pause. “It was a decent show,” she said, recovering a hair of her composure. “Aren’t you going to go after her?”
“Now why would I do that?” he asked, standing before her. “When yer right here?”
“Oh, I don’t know. To piss off Hemmer? To keep an insider on your next job?” Because walking out on me is a habit of yours?
He laughed. “I don’t care what Hemmer thinks an’ I hardly need Becca. I know ye liked the ring, but did ye like the rest of the goods?”
She inhaled.
Show me the goods.
And she’d dropped her dress…
He was trying to make her recall that moment—his being in control, and the humiliation that had followed. Worse, his image was now engraved on her mind. “I always like eye candy, Maclean.”
“Ye’ve never seen—or had—eye candy like mine.”
Unfortunately she was completely breathless. “Sure of yourself, are you?”
“Very.” His gray eyes remained mocking. He leaned close and murmured, “Ye can take the ring off any time, Sam. Just say when and where.”
He’d walked out on her before, but this time, he was in pursuit. It was hard to think clearly, much less wonder why. And damn it, it was hard to look away from his smoldering gray gaze. His words intensified the currents sizzling in the room. “Gee, a come-on. Last time you weren’t very interested. Why don’t you give that honor to your girlfriend?”
“But I want ye to have the honor.” He seemed amused. “To make up fer my bad behavior at Loch Awe.”
Sam fought thinking about taking that ring off and touching him where it counted. She’d forgotten the attraction that raged between them, against her judgment and her will. But she had not forgotten their last encounter, oh no, and she never would.
And she knew that inwardly he was laughing at her. He was not repentant at all. “I don’t like men coming on to me,” she said flatly. “I call the shots.”
His mouth curled. “Of course. Ye like to be the one seducing yer little boys. Or should I say toys?”
He was right. “Do you have a problem with strong women, Maclean?”
“Aye, I do. I like my women soft an’ hot. An’ we both know ye have a problem with strong men.”
She slowly smiled. “My problem is I’ve never met a man as strong as me—especially in the bedroom.”
His smile was wide. “Now who’s the arrogant one? When yer ready to take a chance, ye’ll find out how wrong ye are.”
Sam had the disturbing notion that he’d give her the ride of her life. “I’m always ready—except when it comes to jet-setting playboys with massive egos like you.”
“Ouch,” he said. “So ye haven’t forgiven me fer Loch Awe. Ye were insulted.”
“I can’t really recall what happened at Loch Awe,” she snapped.
He laughed. “Ye can recall. I left ye standing naked in my salon, instead of begging fer yer favors like all your boys do. I didn’t grovel. I didn’t pant or drool. I didn’t give ye the favor ye wanted me to. Ye were furious with me. Come, Sam, we both know the kind of woman ye are. Ye never forgive an’ ye never forget. An’ we both know ye didn’t forget me.”
Her temper soared. “Frankly, I haven’t given you a thought since last December,” she lied. “Can your huge ego handle it?”
“My huge ego can handle anything—anyway ye want.”
“I’ll pass…like last time.”
“So ye do recall last time,” he said softly. “When I didn’t give ye the chance to say no.”
She trembled, furious.
“Are ye sure ye don’t wish fer a trophy? So there’s no danger that ye forget this night?”
“No.” There was no satisfaction in saying “no” now. Even as angry as she was, she knew she wasn’t going to forget his screwing Becca, not for a long time. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re no prize, Maclean, no matter what you seem to think.”
He shrugged indifferently and murmured, “How will ye know if ye don’t try the goods?”
Sam turned to go. “Yeah, of course, you’re the best there is. I’ve never met a man who didn’t think he was God’s gift in the sack,” she retorted over her shoulder.
He seized her arm. She was forced to halt and their gazes clashed. His stare never wavered. “I’m the best.”
His words made her feel faint for a moment. Sam wanted to retort, but she just stood there, recalling the look on his face a moment ago. Becca had seemed to be having an otherworldly orgasm, while he was hunting his own pleasure—almost as if it were an effort. She’d heard that sex with near-immortals was really different—that the rapture was somehow endless. Frankly, she didn’t believe it but she was sure he was damned good—when inspired.
He was never going to have the chance to prove it to her.
“Ye’ll never want a boy toy again,” he said softly.
“Your ego,” she said as softly, “is off the charts. Some women might find it attractive—I don’t. It diminishes any other attributes you might actually have.”
He grinned. “My ego can’t diminish what yer thinkin’ about.”
She pulled free of his grasp. “You’ve got the goods. Big deal.”
“Yer salivating.”
It was definitely time to leave before she blew a gasket. She turned to storm out, when she remembered that she wasn’t supposed to let him out of her sight. In that instant, she recalled what was in Hemmer’s vault—what he wanted, what HCU wanted. She slowly faced him. “Let’s talk turkey. How’s the vault?”
His brows lifted. “I don’t know.”
“Why not?”
He gestured at the bed. “I’ve been busy. Ye took yer time an’ I decided to start the evening off with a bang.”
He had been expecting her. “Did you get a peek at the guest list?”
He shrugged. “Our paths were bound to cross, sooner or later.”
“I don’t travel in Hemmer’s circles.”
