All Tied Up Read online

  Not that she needed more reason to ignore him than what they’d done thirty-six hours ago in the shower. And then again on his bed. Because after the fact—after the act—they hadn’t spoken except to mumble niceties and dress in their respective rooms for their respective days.

  He hadn’t seen her since except to watch her while she slept, until he couldn’t take any more of her undersea world of Jacques Cousteau. Avoiding her hadn’t been intentional. But neither had time and space put what had happened into any sort of logical perspective.

  He wasn’t the love ’em and leave ’em type. True, he was more into conquest than into commitment, but the women he dated knew that going in. His relationship policy, whether short-term or long, had always been to make sure he and his partner were on the same page.

  He and Macy hadn’t even opened the covers of the book.

  They’d just fucked.

  “Whoa, Chloe, baby! Pour that hot stuff this way!”

  Eric Haydon’s rowdy shout brought Leo out of his musings. He glanced toward the big room’s fireplace, crafted from the belly of an old woodstove, to see Chloe and Lauren dancing in front of it. A dance that set the bump and grind tone for the rest of the party.

  The inviting crook of Lauren’s finger was all the encouragement Anton needed. He slipped out from behind the bar and in between the two women, who writhed and popped to the hot salsa music, arms overhead, hips grinding, heads thrown back, hair whipping as they moved.

  Chloe blew a kiss Eric’s way. He bailed out of his chair to join the other three, spinning Chloe away from the ménage à trois and into their own private party. Ray took over bartending duties, pouring straight tequila shots, while Jess made like a sideshow knife-thrower and quartered the last of the limes. He tossed a requested wedge to Melanie.

  She caught it, squeezed the juice into her Corona longneck. Then she and Sydney upped the revelry, whooping and hollering, banging beer bottles and mugs on the table, egging on the four dirty dancers and the dynamic duo tending the bar.

  Macy, Leo watched surreptitiously. She had yet to say much of anything, but he didn’t doubt for a minute that she was having a good time. Her entire upper body rock ’n rolled to the beat of the music and the rhythm of the dance. Her smile was infectious and he caught the disease.

  Caught himself starting to relax.

  This was so unlike him, this casual partying, this giving it up for fun. This total inability to stay focused on the game. Macy made it too easy to forget that he was here for the win and the win only. He had to remember that his involvement with this group was of a limited duration. One month. The length of Macy’s gIRL gAMES scavenger hunt and no longer.

  The same should they continue their affair. He could afford a short-term diversion. He’d enjoy her company, take pleasure in her body as long as the arrangement suited both their needs. His were suited perfectly. Hers hadn’t yet been established. He’d see that they were tonight.

  The more he thought about it, the more he liked that plan. Yeah. He liked it a lot. An affair he could definitely handle. That Macy was as willing as she was, as talented as she was…a man would be out of his mind to say no. But he’d be a fool to consider any sort of long-term investment in a woman, any woman, whose approach to life was more sophomoric than strategic.

  Macy’s sudden and animated cry of, “Go Lauren!” brought Leo’s head back up in time to catch Anton working to pull a wedge of lime from between Lauren’s lips with his teeth. Lauren refused to let go, earning her cheers from the women, earning Anton a ribbing from the men.

  He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her tight to his body, using his tongue where his teeth had failed and prying loose the lime. By this time Lauren wasn’t putting up much of a fight; was, in fact, doing what she could to ditch the wedge, making Anton’s win all the sweeter. Leo had yet to meet a man who didn’t savor a woman’s surrender.

  And then there was Eric, never willing to be outdone. He grabbed a shot glass from Jess in one hand and Chloe by the wrist with the other. “C’mon, woman. Let’s show these yahoos how a real tequila kiss is done.”

  Chloe speared her own wedge of lime from the bowl on the bar and gave Eric the full evil-eye treatment. “I’m only letting you get away with that woman remark because my payback is going to bring you to your knees.”

  “Give it your best shot, baby.” His grin was wide as he leaned into Chloe’s space. But he didn’t lean too far, considering Chloe still held the lime on the end of Jess’s paring knife.

  The four supporting females called encouragement to Chloe, Melanie taking an empty longneck bottle in each hand and pounding a punctuating beat. “Payback! Payback! Payback!”

  “Eric Haydon, you are in such deep shit. You are not going to know what hit you.” This from Lauren, who stood encircled in Anton’s arms, snuggling back into his chest now that they’d traded in their public exhibition for the intimate embrace.

  Even normally serene Sydney leaned an elbow on Ray Coffey’s shoulder and blew an ear-splitting rah-rah whistle. Having hung up his bartending apron and returned to the woman who’d held his attention most of the evening, Ray tugged his earlobe and shook off the deafening aftereffects.

  Watching as Eric circled Chloe like Sylvester the Cat preparing to pounce and devour a tiny, defenseless Tweety, Macy was the last to give a shout, clapping as she added her chant to Melanie’s. “Chlo-e! Chlo-e! Chlo-e!”

  As if Chloe needed any more encouragement. She’d already lowered both spaghetti straps of a black velvet top, a top held in place by nothing but full feminine curves and a whole lotta luck. And now she fluffed her powder puff hair and cocked a hip in a show of Mae West attitude.

  Leo sat back in his chair, crossed his arms and extended his legs. His foot bumped Macy’s. He left it in place. He wasn’t surprised when she did the same. But then she pressed her bare sole to his bare ankle. On purpose. And Leo felt the evening’s first true stirrings of intrigue.

  Anton jacked up the volume until tambourines and maracas rattled the windows and walls. Chloe trailed the lime across the tip of her tongue and her lips, rubbed it over Eric’s mouth, then squeezed the wedge against her chest, trickling droplets of juice into her cleavage.

  Staring at the wet and tempting trail, Eric remained unmoving and at a loss for words. A rare thing, even Leo had to admit, but it didn’t last for long. Seconds later, Eric let loose a wild animal howl, baying toward the ceiling and the full moon beyond.

  Leo’s pulse ripped like an unexpected shot through his veins. He felt the urge to echo the primal sound. Because, as Chloe sprinkled salt over the damp trail of skin, as Eric smacked his lips and rubbed his hands together, as Leo wrapped his hand around—he swore—his last margarita of the night, Macy’s toes begin a slow crawl up his leg.

  He tensed, then forced himself to relax, not wanting to make a move that would dissuade her exploration, wanting to see what she had on her mind, if he’d read her right. Later tonight they’d be taking the time with one another’s bodies they’d not been able to take in the shower or in his bed.

  He wanted to spend time, learning her hot spots, feeding her hunger. Making her wait until she turned on him and devoured. But he’d had too much to drink, he mused, then realized he hadn’t had enough. Between thoughts of getting her naked and the way her toes were tickling the pit of his knee…He drew in a sharp breath and held it, forced his attention out of his pants and back to the show.

  Chloe presented her salted skin to Eric, pulling the neckline of her top even lower and holding the lime wedge, pulp out, between even white teeth. Eric made as if to give thanks, hands piously together and eyes closed, until Chloe hooked her fingers in his belt loops and yanked him forward. He wrapped his free arm around her waist, finishing the move she’d started by pulling her lower body hard into his.

  He settled the flat of his tongue in the salty hollow of her throat, mumbled and hummed his appreciation of her taste into her skin. Chloe arched her neck, giving him be
tter access and an encouraging invitation to continue.

  Macy’s invitation followed. She shifted in her chair, leaning back far enough to rub her curved arch over the muscles of Leo’s inner thigh. His hand tightened around his drink and he spread his legs wider. She repeated the caress, first one side, then the other. Her toes flexed into the fabric of his trousers and a snarl rumbled through his chest.

  Eric’s tongue grew bolder, licking away the trail of salt, flicking across Chloe’s upper chest and earning him a playful ear-boxing and a reprimand to get back to work. He laughed into her skin and corrected his downhill course, approaching the valley between her voluptuous hills.

  Macy needed no course correction whatsoever. The toes of her second foot had worked their way beneath the cuff of Leo’s khakis. Her skin was cool and smooth. His was heated and hair-roughened. The simple anatomical contrast between the sexes raised the heat of the blood pooling in his groin.

  It was a sad state of affairs when he let a sprite of a wild child turn him on with her toes. Yet he couldn’t remember another woman’s conventional seduction getting him so hard, so fast. This was what he so enjoyed about Macy. She was bold and adventurous, not the least bit shy when it came to going after what she wanted. Or insisting things be done her way.

  So far he’d given her what she wanted. He’d let her have her way. She’d gotten a roommate, a teammate and his attention. Now he intended to get his. This private under-the-table lap dance was not a bad place to start. And by the time Eric had managed to dip his tongue deep into Chloe’s cleavage, Macy’s soles strategically rested in the V of Leo’s crotch.

  Eric licked away the last of the salted trail of juice, lifted his head from Chloe’s chest and grinned like the devil. Then he tossed back the shot of tequila, shuddered, settled his mouth on Chloe’s and sucked the juice from the waiting lime.

  But he didn’t stop there, when the lime was spent and the Jose Cuervo burn had eased. His tongue scooped away the pulp and rind and swirled freely into Chloe’s mouth. And when Chloe reached out and grabbed his ass, the crowd roared.

  Eric and Chloe had the room’s attention as they moved from the kiss into a hands-on set of dirty dancing. Lauren and Anton joined them.

  And Jess was just reaching for Melanie when Leo felt a shift in Macy’s gaze, from the dancers to his face.

  9

  IT HAD BEEN THIRTY-SIX hours since he’d had her.

  And the last thing Leo expected was to look up and see Macy drawing a bite of fried rice from between two chopsticks, her tongue curling around the food, teasing the tips of the wooden skewers the way she’d teased the head of his dick.

  He hadn’t expected to see her lightly nip at the flesh of a pork rib, leaving the bone whistle clean, licking the sticky sauce from her lips and the tips of her fingers. He hadn’t expected to see her pinch the tail of a grilled jumbo shrimp, closing her lips around the thick meat, sucking the seasoned juice from the shell.

  The ball of her foot stroked the burgeoning bulge behind his fly. Her chin lifted; her eyelids fluttered and closed. She opened wide and swallowed the whole thing deep down in the back of her throat.

  Leo came close to upending the table in a ferocious exhibition of his inner Gladiator. Fortunately, Macy was the only one to notice the way he shoved the edge of his dinner plate hard against hers when he reached across the table, wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her to her feet.

  She didn’t resist or object, but made the long reach for her drink to wash the food from her mouth before she followed where he led. In this case, the far edge of the impromptu dance floor. As far away from the rest of the group as Leo could get without leaving the room.

  With Ray and Sydney deep in conversation at the table, and the rest of the couples caught up in the music or in each other, the timing of Leo’s abduction could not have been planned any better. No one noticed the commotion, his desperation or the erection straining the fly of his pants.

  He put his back to the room and pulled Macy tight to the front of his body. She nestled into him like a pearl into the shell of an oyster, right where it belonged. The admission struck him hard with its corny truth.

  What the hell had he gotten himself into?

  She looked up at his face and caught him considering his flight options. Her innocent expression was more of a lie than Leo could stand. There was nothing innocent about Macy Webb. She was the original black widow spider, spinning the sticky threads of her deadly man-snare.

  “Were you wanting to dance? Or did you just want to get your hands on me?” She could hardly keep a straight face as she wrapped her arms around his waist, hooking her thumbs into the belt loops at his sides.

  Even wearing shoes, she wasn’t tall enough to reach around his neck, and here she stood in nothing but bare feet. Comfort over etiquette. Just like the kid she insisted on being. Instead of the woman she was, the woman now working to mow down his beliefs about what he needed from the opposite sex.

  What he needed was to get his head on straight.

  His forearms rested on her shoulders; his hands met in the center of her back and pressed her close. “What I want right now is probably better left unsaid.”

  “Why? You think I’m not adult enough to handle it?” She looked up again, eyes wide once more. Innocent again.

  He wasn’t going to fall for her act. Not this time. “Is that what you want me to think?”

  She gave a small shrug. “I don’t really care what you think.”

  He maneuvered them away from the crowd and closer to the front foyer, tiled in a rich Italian marble of an equally rich espresso color. “You’ll never make a very convincing witness with that lousy Swiss cheese testimony.”

  Macy sighed in capitulation, resting her cheek on his chest. Good. He was finally getting her attention. But then she snuggled up to him and asked, “What’s the difference between a lawyer and a vampire?”

  Leo could only roll his eyes. “A vampire only sucks blood at night.”

  “Hmm. What’s the difference between a lawyer and a leech?”

  “A leech quits sucking your blood after you die.”

  She tsked. “You would know all the suck jokes.”

  He spun them around, backed them almost the entire length of the foyer. And then he stood in place and did no more than shuffle his feet and sway from side to side. “You’re hopeless. Do you have one single serious bone in your body?”

  “Nothing compared to what you’ve got going on.” She looked up into his face. Their bodies slowed until their feet remained unmoving, their knees sandwiched together, their hips aligned in a way that had nothing to do with the dance. “I mean, I knew you had a Jones for playing games….”

  Leo felt heat pool and spread, felt a compelling need to ease the building pressure. He dropped a hand to Macy’s backside, held her close and pushed forward into her belly. “This is not about playing any game.”

  Her eyes drifted shut, drifted open. Her smile was nothing if not tickled pink. “And here I was beginning to think you were the one who was hopeless. You are allowed to have fun just for fun, you know.”

  When he wasn’t quick enough to refute her allegation, she slowly frowned, slowly added, “Or didn’t you know?”

  He knew she was thinking about the time they’d spent in bed. The time in the shower that had started on a dare she’d been more than willing to accept. Even now he was rising to the private provocation she’d boldly issued both above and beneath the dinner table.

  She was right. Enjoying her body, her wit and her mind had nothing to do with competition, with making his mark, with getting ahead. It was fun and games with no agenda, no ulterior motive.

  So, what was he doing here?

  His life was a study in focus, success and striving to excel. He surrounded himself with the people, bought his way into the games designed to make it happen. He never lost sight of the goal.

  So, what was he doing here?

  The possibility that he was
here for more, that he wanted more and wanted it from Macy, landed with a gut-deep punch. A punch he should’ve been able to dodge. He’d forgotten his own fundamental rules of play.

  So, what in the hell was he doing here?

  “You never did tell me what it is you want,” she said, her voice too soft and sweet, too concerned female, too not-Macy for his liking.

  “Never mind,” he muttered gruffly, because he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted any longer and was afraid he wasn’t going to like it when he finally figured it out.

  “Fine. Whatever.” She shrugged off his comment and his attitude, drawing herself up stiffly in his arms. “It’s not like I’m going to lose any sleep worrying about it.”

  Leo gritted his teeth, forced a deep breath and blew out his self-directed ire. He might not like what Macy had done to his mind, but he was solely to blame for this inexplicable lapse in concentration. And he owed her an apology for acting like a son of a bitch.

  He realized all this as he stroked a fingertip along her jaw, repeated the caress on the opposite side. Her eyelids grew heavy, her mouth dreamy. The tip of her tongue peeked from between her lips as Leo lifted her chin and asked, “Do you lose sleep over anything?”

  “Only when I have a good reason.” She looked up then, met his gaze. And what had been a look of the sweetest surrender became an invitation best suited for a corner in the dark. “Do you have one to give me?”

  He shook his head.

  “No?” Her eyes widened, then narrowed to a scowl.

  He shook his head again. A piece of work, this one, like hot and cold running water, needing nothing more than the turn of a handle to alter her mood. “That wasn’t a no.”

  “What was it then?” She tried to slip her arms from around his back.

  He caught her fingers, so cool and tiny in his hands, and held them at his waist. He wanted to dispel her skepticism—even if the effort cost him more points than he gained. “That was me. Enjoying you.”

  And at that, her expression blossomed into a look of pure bliss. Her soft sigh warmed his skin straight through the fabric of his shirt.