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

Natalie walked down the hallway without a backward glance. And she made very sure not to glance at the door with the coded access pad that led to Carlo’s “workspace.”

CHANCE FOUND himself glancing at his watch for the fourth time in two hours. Natalie had not reappeared on the patio, and neither had Carlo Brancotti. He’d managed to keep his mind on the game, and he’d even managed to win a few hands. But he hadn’t been able to shake off the urge he had to go to Natalie. The rational side of him told him that she was perfectly capable of handling a man like Brancotti.

But each moment that ticked by made him feel less and less reasonable. Chance shoved a pile of chips into the center of the table and waited for the other bets to be placed. When Sir Arthur turned over his full house, Chance laid down his cards and pushed himself away from the table. “I’m finished, gentlemen.”

There were a few grumbles. Chance paid them no heed as he let himself out of the screened gazebo and strode back toward the house. He might be making a mistake. He’d been weighing the odds of that for the past two hours. Logic told him that Steven Bradford would stay at the game. But gut instinct told him that he had to go to Natalie, and he hadn’t gotten where he was by ignoring his instincts.

Let Carlo Brancotti make what he wanted of the fact that Steven Bradford was so besotted and so hot for Calli that not even a high-stakes poker game could keep him distracted for very long.

The conservatory was empty when he moved through it. At another time, he might have paused to enjoy the orchids, but now he only quickened his stride. There were surveillance cameras everywhere. Not surprising since there were expensive pieces of pottery and sculpture on display even in the hallways. But then, Chance didn’t think that anyone Carlo invited to his estate would dare to steal from him.

No. The state-of-the-art surveillance equipment was for keeping tabs on his guests’ movements. Chance took the stairs two at a time. If Carlo was watching, he would see a man who was desperate to get to his woman. And Chance was. He needed to see her, to satisfy himself that she was all right.

He needed her. Chance felt himself rocked by the realization. Before he had time to absorb or reflect on that, he reached the door to the Venetian room. It was locked. As it should be, he told himself as he swore silently and searched in his pocket for the key.

NATALIE PACED back and forth inside the suite. Since she’d come back to the room, she’d gone over everything that had happened that evening—from the time Carlo had appeared on the balcony to when he’d let her into the house, making sure she walked by his office again.

He’d definitely wanted to know about her relationship with Steven Bradford. And she had to hope that it had rung true. She’d blushed, for heaven’s sake. And she was almost positive that it was Natalie’s cheeks that had heated, not Calli’s. When panic threatened to bubble up again, she ruthlessly pushed it down. She was not going to worry about that now.

Natalie paused in front of a mirror and faced her reflection. She was playing a game. That was all. Calli was in love with Steven Bradford. But Natalie was not falling in love with Chance Mitchell. What she felt for Chance was lust. And professional respect. The emotions tumbling around inside of her had no relation to what Catherine Weston felt for Steven Bradford. She couldn’t afford to let the different roles she was playing merge. Giving herself a nod, she began to pace again.

Gut instinct told her that Carlo Brancotti had not only been testing her, he’d also been playing some kind of a game with her. Her mind kept circling back to the fact that the tour had been his idea. He’d wanted her to see the layout of the house, his “workspace,” the salon and his gallery. Why?

She stopped pacing and began to tap her foot. It was in the gallery that her neck had begun to prickle. She often got that feeling when something meshed for her on a case. She and Chance had assumed that the Ferrante diamond would be locked in a safe in his office. Could it be in the gallery?

A quick glance at her watch told her it was midnight, the witching hour. There was no telling when the poker game would break up, and she needed to talk to Chance. Foot still tapping, she considered her options. As Natalie, she’d have to think of a plan. At the very least, Rachel would have to run through the possible repercussions. Thankfully, all Calli had to do was to go down to that poker game and tell Steven that she needed a walk on the beach before she could sleep.

She was at the door when she heard the knob turn, and she opened it just as Chance was fishing out his key. What she saw stopped her short for a moment. His hair was mussed, his expression impatient and just a bit dangerous. Her mouth began to water. But it was what she saw in his eyes—the mix of frustration and desire that had her heart taking a tumble. For just a second, she couldn’t move, couldn’t even think.

CARLO STUDIED the TV screens in the security room adjacent to his office. One of the security men had buzzed him the moment that Steven Bradford had left the poker game. And now Bradford was standing in the doorway to his room.

“What do you think?” he asked Lisa.

“He’s a man who prefers his woman to a poker game,” Lisa said.

“But it’s well known that poker is his weakness. He plays twice a month with old friends. He doesn’t rush home to be with his Calli.”

“Perhaps that’s because he’s playing with friends. Or perhaps he was overcome by jealousy when you spent over an hour giving his Calli a tour of the house and gardens.”

Carlo glanced at her sharply. Something in her tone told him that she didn’t approve, but it wasn’t like her to criticize him. “Are you jealous, too?”

She met his eyes, but said nothing.

“You don’t think the tour was wise.”

“No. You haven’t yet decided who the plant is, and yet you showed her the gallery where the safe is.”

Carlo smiled then and lifted a hand to trace it along her cheek. “Where one of my safes is.”

“You’re playing with fire.”

“It’s just a bit of misdirection, my dear Lisa. And I know what I’m doing. If they think the Ferrante diamond is in the gallery safe, it will make the game more interesting. And you can stop being jealous. My other guests will receive the same tour.”

“I still don’t like it,” Lisa said.

He leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers. When her lips warmed and softened beneath his, he drew back and raised her hand to his lips. “Come. I think we can leave the lovebirds to themselves. And perhaps I can make it up to you for spending so much time with Calli.”

FOR JUST A SECOND after Natalie opened the door, Chance couldn’t move. Feelings swamped him. She was here. She was safe.

And he didn’t have any idea which woman he was looking at. That realization fueled both his frustration and his desire. Stepping forward, he urged her back into the room, closed the door and locked it. Then he grabbed her arms, drew her up on her toes and closed his mouth over hers. Heat. He could feel it shoot from her to him and back again. He wanted, no, he needed…

Drawing back for a moment, he stared at her in the moonlight streaming into the room. Who are you? he wanted to ask. He wanted to shout it. But he couldn’t.

What he said was, “I want you.” Then before she could answer, he pushed her back against the wall and kissed her again. By damn, he was going to find out which part she was playing. He had to.

The flavor would give her away. Rachel was slightly tart. He tasted that. Calli was sweet—like wild honey—and he found that, too. He nipped her bottom lip and discovered the dark exotic flavor that had haunted him for three months. Natalie. Even as all three tastes flooded through him, he was desperate for more. Changing the angle of his head, he took the kiss deeper.

When he dragged himself back this time, they were both panting. In another moment, he would have pulled her to the floor and taken her right there. Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her into the bathroom and kicked the door shut behind him.

He didn’t set her down until he’d twisted the knobs of the shower. There was a small mike on the ledge of the hot tub. He wanted to make sure that the spray would block any sound. He said nothing as he began to strip out of his clothes.

Natalie waited, watching as he removed his shirt and allowed his trousers to pool at his feet. In the moonlight pouring through the balcony doors, he looked like a god. She moved closer. Then, placing her hands on his shoulders, she drew his head down and spoke into his ear. “There are cameras throughout the garden, probably microphones, too. And I’ve been everywhere on the first floor. I know where Carlo’s office is.”

He gripped her hips and set her far enough away that he could see her eyes. They were a bit puzzled, but focused on his. Did she believe that he’d brought her in here to hear a report? She was thinking of the job and all he was thinking of, all he could think of, was her.

“Do you care if that dress gets wet?”

He couldn’t hear his own words over the noise of the shower, but she must have read his lips because she turned and pointed to the zipper.

It extended all of three inches down from the small of her back, and as the silk parted, his fingers brushed against soft, damp skin. She shrugged her shoulders, wiggled her hips, and the dress slid to her feet.

She was wearing nothing beneath it. Chance’s mouth went dry as a bone. He’d wondered, of course. So had every other man at dinner. But he hadn’t known and hadn’t truly believed that the woman he’d known originally as Natalie Gibbs would have gone to a dinner party, wearing nothing at all under her dress. Even Rachel Cade had worn underwear, hadn’t she? To think she’d spent one hour alone with Carlo Brancotti wearing nothing but that thin swatch of silk.

Turning, Natalie looped her arms around his neck and pulled his ear to her mouth. What was she going to tell him now? That she knew where Brancotti’s safe was?

He gripped her shoulders hard. “You can give me the damned report later. First, I want to know who the hell you are.”

She didn’t answer him immediately, but he could see the way her eyes darkened, the way the pulse at her throat fluttered. Then she smiled and suddenly her mouth was at his ear again. “I can be anyone you want.”

Not quite gently, he clamped one arm around her waist and kept the other gripping her arm as he pulled her into the shower with him.

“I can be Rachel.” She nipped his earlobe. Somehow she’d managed to get hold of the soap, and her hands slid over his skin leaving trails of ice and fire in their wake.

“I love touching your body.” Her voice had become a breathy whisper. “Do you like it when I touch you here?” Her hand slithered from his shoulders down his chest.

“How about here?” Her fingers drew a line to his waist and then lower. “Or here? Do you like this?”

He closed his eyes as her slick, hot fist enclosed him.