No more. Not ever again.
“I won’t let him back inside,” Marcel promised.
Now why would he do that? “But if he’s not inside, how can I use him?”
Marcel’s brow furrowed. “Say again?”
She leaned even closer to him so she could make a confession. “I’m not really a turn-the-other-cheek type of person.”
A nod. “Neither am I.”
Something they had in common. “When someone uses me, I use them right back.”
A slow nod. “I see.”
She thought he did. “Have a good night, Marcel.” Alice suspected that her own night would be very interesting, to say the least.
Alice slipped from the crowd, made her way outside, and wasn’t particularly surprised to find her big, bad Saint pacing on the sidewalk near the main road. As soon as he saw her, he closed in.
“Listen,” Saint began, his voice tense and hard, “I need to explain—”
“You’re taking me home.”
He stiffened. “What?”
“You’re out front because you were going to offer me a ride home. How very gallant of you.” Her nose wrinkled as she lifted her arms. “I couldn’t get all the paint off in the bathroom sink, and I’m sticky. I need to shower desperately, so a ride would be great. Thank you.”
Saint slid toward her. “You…you don’t want an explanation?”
She wanted plenty from him. For now, she strove to look tired. Perhaps even a wee bit vulnerable. Unfortunately, Alice knew that she didn’t do vulnerable so well. “It’s been one hell of a night. What I’d really like is a ride home before someone appears and asks to pose in a photo with me.”
Saint jerked his head in agreement. “I’ll give you a ride.”
Well, of course, you will. That had been part of her plan. Her fingers lifted and touched his cheek. Felt the press of the stubble against her skin. “My hero.”
“Haven’t exactly ever been called that before.”
“No? Then maybe you’ve been hanging around the wrong people.”
His eyes glinted. “Or maybe I’m not the hero.”
Chapter Four
Alice was down the hallway, in the shower. Absolutely fucking naked. Well, of course, she was naked. People were naked in showers. Normal occurrence, but for some reason, Saint kept getting stuck on a repeated mental image of Alice, sliding out of her clothes. Stepping into a massive shower, letting the spray fall against her body. Slide over her pert breasts and down, down to her—
“Did you know that when red spray paint washes down the drain, it looks a lot like blood?” Alice asked from behind him.
Well, shit. So much for the sexy fantasy in his head. Alice was obviously in the mood to play. Though the game she seemed to want wasn’t quite what he’d had in mind.
“Not that I’d know, mind you,” she continued in her sensual, husky voice, “not speaking from personal experience or anything. I just imagine that’s what it would look like.”
He spun toward her.
She smiled at him. Blinked innocently. Perhaps the innocent blink would have worked, if she hadn’t been wearing just a silky black robe that skimmed the tops of her thighs. The fabric was thin, and he could easily see the outline of her nipples thrusting against the silk. Her wet hair had been combed back from her face. She’d removed all her makeup, and she was fucking stunning.
His jaw locked. “Not happening.”
“Excuse me?” So very prim and polite.
“You must own a different robe. Something thick and fluffy and made of terry cloth.”
Her brows rose, then fell. “Why are you concerned about my choice of robe?”
“Because you’re trying to make me drool, and we need to have a deep conversation. Being able to see your nipples isn’t exactly conducive to deep chit-chat time.”
Alice’s head tipped forward as she looked down at herself. “You can see my nipples? Sorry. The shower was a bit cold.” Her head lifted. “But you don’t have to stare. My eyes are up here, you know.” She waved a hand toward her eyes.
He smiled at her.
And saw the flicker of unease in her gaze.
“Yeah, first off, I’m not like the other dumbasses you might be used to manipulating in your life, my Alice. You can’t waltz that sexy ass of yours out in a silky robe and then just have me drop at your feet.” Though, he would admit, she had cute feet. Her toenails had been painted a deep, bold red to match her nails.
“What makes you think I manipulate people?”
“Because it’s probably like breathing for you. Second nature.”
Her lips tightened. “You’re hurting my feelings.”
Was he? He could almost believe that had been a breath of pain in her voice, and, shit, he didn’t want to hurt her, he didn’t want—
Saint caught himself as he took a step toward her. “You are lethal.” He couldn’t help the admiring tone.
Alice shrugged. “I’ve been told that before.” While he had frozen, she advanced. Alice’s bare feet slid across the lush carpeting, not making a sound, and she stalked forward until she stood right in front of him.
They were in her den. The den of an obviously expensive historical home that was located not too far from Forsyth Park. Two stories, with massive, white columns out front and sweeping porches that circled both levels of the house. He’d smelled jasmine and roses when he walked up the steps outside, and as soon as he’d entered her home, he’d noticed the rich luster of the hardwood floor in the foyer. Elegantly decorated, the home seemed to scream money. Money—and security. Because he’d glimpsed the security cameras that had been installed at all corners of her home.
“It took a little longer than I anticipated to remove the leftover paint.” She offered him a wide-eyed gaze. “If you’re truly uncomfortable by my attire and you don’t think that you can manage to control yourself, then I can go and change.”
Nice. He liked the way she’d tossed things back at him. “Don’t change on my account. I just thought you were…cold and might want to warm up with a bigger, fluffier robe.”
“Oh, is that what you thought? How considerate you are.”
Fuck it. He wasn’t in the mood to dance around with games. My client attacked her. “No, I thought you looked sexy as hell. I wanted to pull you into my arms and take right back up where we left off in your office. You know, before Tracy Eldridge decided to spray paint your car and you.”
She bit her lower lip. “You’re not pulling me into your arms.”
He could hear the thunder of his own heartbeat. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes. I think sex with you would be quite fantastic. You have this barely leashed sensuality that hits me on a primitive level.”
What the—
She turned away. Headed for the fireplace that wasn’t lit. “But I don’t like to sleep with men I don’t trust.” Her hand rose. Her fingers tapped against the dark wood of the mantel. “I also don’t like to sleep with men who want to cage me. Call it a quirk.”
“Cage you?”