Wickedly Hot. Leslie KellyЧитать онлайн книгу.
that she wasn’t the right woman. Thankfully, he’d only taken her out to lunch once. So she wouldn’t have had any reason to mention him to her sister.
The second detective he’d hired—a better one—had found Jade, and his grandmother had confirmed the description. Ryan had taken the information and come to Savannah determined, in charge, using the cover of the convention and the article to get where he wanted to be—close to her.
Everything had gone fine. Right up until the moment he’d actually seen the woman he was after.
He could be in over his head with this one. It was somehow exciting, rather than disturbing, to imagine the sexy brunette sneaking into his room. Trying her tricks on him, creeping in to take something that belonged to him. Taking him.
He forced the traitorous thought away. Yes, she was damned attractive and he had to clench his fists to remind himself he had to trick her. Not take her.
Unfortunately.
“Well, if you need any help getting around,” Mamie said, not noticing his distraction, “I’d be more than happy to help you in any way.” She drew her hand to her throat again, flashing a big chunky rock on her ring finger and tapping her collarbone with the tip of her red-tinted fingernail.
Not on your best day, lady.
Since she hadn’t gotten the nonverbal hint, he gave her a broader one. “I’m also enjoying getting to meet some of the beautiful young women of your city.”
That seemed to get through. The woman was twenty years his senior, at least, with a husband dangling around here somewhere, probably downing drinks wondering how he was going to pay for her next party. Not to mention her next diamond.
“Well, there’s no shortage of those.” This time Mamie’s smile was somewhat forced.
“What about her?” Ryan asked, nodding toward Jade, who stood talking with an older woman in a Southern-belle ball gown.
Mamie’s mouth stiffened even more. “Jade Maguire. She can show you some things, all right. She owns one of those trashy tour guide companies that prey on out-of-towners who like to be scared out of their wits with silly ghost stories at night.”
Nothing he hadn’t known. The private detective he’d ordered to track down the right J. Maguire had sent a file on Jade’s company, Stroll Savannah, which had become one of the most popular tourist traps since she’d opened it a few years ago.
He knew where she lived. Where she’d gone to school. What she liked to drink and when she liked to eat. Who she employed. Who she dated—nobody, really, which had been a surprise. When she traveled and where she went.
He’d been prepared for everything. Everything except how beautiful she was.
“You can find better tour guides,” Mamie said.
The biting tone in the woman’s voice was a surprise. Then again, he imagined a woman who looked like Jade got a lot of jealous responses from overweight, aging society matriarchs. He was about to put the woman in her place, some unexpected instinct making him want to defend Jade, a woman he personally had hated for weeks. But before he could do so, Mamie continued.
“Her father was just an Irish bartender.”
“So she’s not a native of the city?”
Mamie shrugged, then grudgingly conceded, “She’s actually part of a long lineage of Savannians. On her mother’s side. Her father’s name was Maguire, but her mother’s maiden name was Dupré.” The woman leaned close, looking around to ensure she wasn’t being overheard. “Some of those Duprés…well, they’re not quite the purest family line, if you know what I mean.”
He didn’t. And for some reason, though he should want to gather more ammunition to use against Jade, he resented the woman’s snide tone and didn’t ask for details.
“The party’s going well.”
She frowned at the change of subject, looking disappointed that he hadn’t taken the bait. Why hadn’t he? Stupid. That’d been a stupid move. But he somehow couldn’t find it within himself to regret it.
“I suppose.” Then she put out her dark-tinted bottom lip in a small pout. “Are you going to be moving to the Winter Garden House tomorrow? You’re sure we can’t convince you to stay?”
Ryan shook his head. “Sorry. I must spend some time at all the inns I’ll be writing about.”
Not to mention the fact that Jade Maguire’s tour company capped off their nighttime haunted history tour with a visit to the famous Winter Garden inn. Since he’d paid one of her employees to call in sick tomorrow night, he knew damn well who’d be leading the tour.
It was almost too easy luring the tigress into his den.
Hell, she was making it even easier because she’d been looking at him all night. Giving him these intense stares, studying him.
Ryan was used to the stares of women. Under normal circumstances, this woman’s interest would have gotten exactly the kind of reaction he’d always had to a beautiful, seductive female. Instant heat. Hot pleasure. The kind of crazy passionate relationship he’d enjoyed more than a few times in his life. The kind that had kept him from settling down to anything more permanent—much to his grandmother’s dismay.
Grandmother didn’t believe he wasn’t secretly interested in marriage, kids and all the suburban crap the women she introduced him to seemed to want. And he didn’t want to force her to admit he didn’t possess the love-at-first-sight gene that had downed so many of his family members.
So the least he could do for evading her marriage traps was reclaim a family treasure.
He hadn’t realized, though, until he’d set eyes on Jade, that the job might be so very enjoyable. Getting her naked, helpless and at his mercy might prove to be fun. He just had to keep reminding himself this was a mission. Business, not pleasure.
Though, honestly, if some pleasure happened into the equation, he didn’t think he’d protest too much.
2
“YOU’VE BEEN WATCHING ME,” a smooth voice said, low and melodic and hinting at other words, more sultry words, that he’d rather not say in public.
Ryan Stoddard. God, he’d come right up to her. Jade hadn’t expected him to make the first move.
“You’ve been watching me,” she countered, sipping her drink and not turning around. She closed her eyes and did a rapid one-to-ten count to gain control. She couldn’t believe he’d eased around the crowd and snuck up on her while she’d been watching Tally work her magic with the rich businessman.
On the positive front, she’d only been here an hour and already the object of her revenge scheme had approached her. She was getting almost too good at this clandestine thing. Though, she had to admit, the ability to be noticed in a crowd had come in handy on some of her treasure-hunting jaunts. Particularly with the male targets.
He moved closer. The fabric of his trousers brushed her bare legs, which were revealed well above the knee in a short jet-black beaded cocktail dress that didn’t quite suit the dress code tonight. The contact stirred her, made something lurch within her.
“We’ve been watching each other,” he admitted, his voice closer now. Close enough for her to feel his breath on her neck.
Goose bumps rose there. Goose bumps, for heaven’s sake, as if she hadn’t been practicing this man/woman/ sex thing since before she’d grown breasts. Every Dupré woman knew about seduction, just as every Dupré woman knew about the family history and the many ways to curse someone in the old language.
“If it makes you feel better to think so, go ahead.”
He chuckled, obviously not fooled by her cool tone. How could he be when her whole body was practically arching toward him, shifting with imperceptible need?