“That’s a good girl,” he said, as I let my eyes flutter closed.

I concentrated on breathing, trying to ignore the way the tiny hairs on my arms stood up, a reaction to the electricity now swirling in the few inches that remained between us. He cupped my jaw with his free hand, then brushed his thumb lightly over my cheek. He was going to kiss me.

My mind was spinning so damn fast, reeling between excitement and wonder. He was a tool, a suspect, a criminal. Even so, I wanted this, and not because seduction was my endgame.

I simply wanted the man. Damn me to hell, I wanted him bad.

I felt the brush of his lips against my ear as he spoke. His voice was as soft and sensual as the kiss that I expected, but the words held the sting of a slap: “You shouldn’t be here.”

Ice burned in my veins, and I stood as tight and still as a statue.

He’d made me. Goddammit, how the hell had he made me?

But no. The “how” wasn’t important. Now it was all about denial and damage control.

I allowed myself only a second to rein in my fear. I let confusion color my expression—not hard under the circumstances—then I opened my eyes. He’d stepped back, and I met his gaze boldly. I expected to see anger and accusation on his face. Instead, I saw warmth. “I—” I closed my mouth and regrouped. “What are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t be tucked away like this.” He spoke simply, apparently oblivious to my discomfiture. “You should be the center of attention. See that flower arrangement?” he asked, nodding toward the stunning arrangement of flowers that dominated the center of the Palm Court. “You outshine it a thousandfold.”

It was an utterly unoriginal line—not worthy of the man at all. I thought about telling him so, but considering my goal of getting close, insulting him probably shouldn’t be my next move. Frankly, I was so flustered I wasn’t sure what the next move should be. All I knew was that I’d gone on the defensive, and I needed to drop that before he noticed.

It took some concentration, but I managed to conjure a shy smile. “You’re very sweet,” I said. “And I’m very flattered.”

For a moment, he said nothing, but I saw the inquisitive gleam in his eye along with the way his head tilted slightly, as if he was examining something curious. “No,” he finally said. “I don’t think you’re flattered at all.”

“Excuse me?” I couldn’t help the bite of temper in my voice, but it was directed at me, not at him. I should have gone for bold, not demure. Should have stepped forward instead of stepping back.

I’d miscalculated. And I didn’t like to lose.

“You don’t strike me as a woman who needs pretty words and flattery. I think you like a more direct approach.” Once again, he closed the distance between us. Once again, the air shimmered with rising heat, this time fueled by the kind of danger that had the power to burn.

“Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know. It’s who you are.” He took hold of my wrist, the shock of his touch effectively silencing my lie. “Tell me why you were looking for me, Sloane. Tell me flat out.”

I drew in a breath, buying time as I weighed my options and considered how to mix truth with lies. “I saw you,” I finally said. “On the television, in magazines, in newspapers. You seemed powerful and a little mysterious.”

“Always good to keep the press and the public guessing. It increases the mystique.”

“Does it? Well, I guess it worked. I’ve thought about you, Tyler Sharp. You wouldn’t leave my head. And I decided that I had to get close to you. I had to know if the living, breathing man was as interesting in person as he was in my fantasies.”

I met his eyes. Made sure that he could see the heat in mine. “I wanted to get close. I wanted to see if you were the kind of man I wanted in my bed.”

“And?”

“Now I’ve met you,” I said as I gently pulled my arm free. But my smile was slow and easy and full of invitation.

And leaving that little bit of bait dangling, I slowly walked away.

Chapter Three

I managed to keep my back straight and add a nice little swish to my hips as I crossed the ballroom toward the ladies’ room. I wasn’t about to turn around and check, but I imagined that he was watching me go, and I couldn’t falter. Not then. Not after taking the kind of chance I’d just taken.

The moment I was through the door of the restroom, though, I raced to the closest cubicle and locked myself in. As with everything at The Drake, even the bathroom was elegant, and my little stall was a far cry from typical. Instead of simply housing a toilet, there was a marble vanity, a sink, and an upholstered stool, upon which I gratefully sagged. I pressed my elbows to the counter, stared at my reflection, and sighed.

“That was either a brilliant move or complete lunacy,” I announced, but the girl in the mirror didn’t say a thing, and I can’t say that I blamed her. Her always pale skin seemed to glow, and the flush of excitement that colored her cheeks only made the smattering of freckles stand out more. Her tumble of wavy red hair—the other souvenir of her Irish heritage—had come loose from the messy knot she’d secured with a pair of decorative chopsticks atop her head, and now a few tendrils framed her face in a way that was undeniably flirty.

Considering the outcome of the operation was still an open question, she looked far too smug—far too excited. As if she was setting out on a grand adventure.

“Idiot,” I said to her—to myself—as I glanced at my watch, gauging how long I should wait before I went back into the ballroom. I’d thrown down a gauntlet specifically because Tyler was the kind of guy who needed a challenge, but if I stayed away too long, my plan might backfire. Some other woman might slide into Tyler’s arms. He might decide to cut his losses and head out. He might decide that I was just too much damn trouble.

Right. Enough with the gauntlet throwing. Time to get back in the game.

I hurried out of the stall, yanked open the door to the ladies’ room, then headed back into the ballroom. I scoped out the room, searching every face for Tyler, but there was no sign of him.

Well, damn.

Honestly, I should have expected it. Nothing is as easy as it should be, after all.

I am not a party hound. Neither do I do small talk well. And my warm, comfy pillar was all the way across the room. I was making my way in that direction when I saw him standing amidst a small cluster of women. I winced when a blonde with amazing tits and the kind of neckline that was bound to cause a traffic accident laughed heartily and slid her arm around his waist, leaning against him as if she’d otherwise be knocked over by his wit.

His own grin widened, and he added something to the conversation that I couldn’t hear. Everyone in that circle was enraptured by him, and to be honest I was surprised the whole room didn’t turn toward him, drawn by his smooth manner and gregarious smile. In that moment, I was certain that what Kevin had told me of cons and confidence games was true; Tyler had the looks, the charm, the whole package designed to entice and steal and finagle while the mark just stood there and happily handed it over. I should know. He’d stolen my equilibrium with no effort at all.

As I watched, he cocked his head as if he’d heard something, and his eyes skimmed casually over the room. But it wasn’t casual when he found me. Instead, it was a crash, and I stumbled backward simply from the force of it.