Decadent

Her mouth tasted gritty. Her nerves had been a jangled mess for days, and lack of sleep didn’t help. Worrying about Vix had kept her awake all night. She didn’t know where or how her sister was being held, whether she was being abused, or even if she was alive. Ally had checked her e-mail on her BlackBerry several times, but there’d been no messages from her sister.

Vix had been traveling on her own since she was a child. A short hop to New Orleans was nothing to her. She’d made the trip to check out Tulane University’s undergrad program, and she’d been gone overnight when Ally had received that ominous e-mail from her. Ally had immediately called the hotel where Vix had planned to stay, but she hadn’t checked in. There wasn’t even a reservation for her.

Then Ally had called Vix’s close friends in Georgetown, being careful not to alarm them when she asked about her sister. None of them had heard from Vix since she’d left. Reluctantly, Ally contacted the rock musician her eighteen-year-old sister had been dating, only to learn that he’d received an e-mail from Vix the same day Ally had. He’d revealed that Vix’s e-mail had been upbeat and cheerful, and she hadn’t mentioned any concerns beyond her choice of schools. Ally had doubts about her sister’s boyfriend, but she had no reason to think he would lie about something like that. That was when Ally had decided to fly to New Orleans to check things out for herself.

Ally feared Vix might have gone to Club Casablanca out of curiosity. It was only a short drive from Tulane. She suspected her sister was fascinated with Jason Aragon because of the stories Ally had told her. She hadn’t been trying to intrigue her sister, just the opposite. She worried that Vix would make the same mistakes she had, and she’d wanted her to understand that impulsive decisions could do lasting damage. But her impetuous sister had found Ally’s walk on the wild side highly intriguing, and Vix had a rebellious streak, too.

She knew Jason Aragon to be capable of many things, but she didn’t believe him evil enough to kill or even to take sexual advantage of her little sister. It was much more likely that he was using Vix as a means to an end, and that end was Ally, herself. Ally was the catch, Vix the bait.

He’d become controlling and obsessive, refusing to let Ally go when she wanted out of the relationship. At first she’d found his fast-paced, sexy lifestyle exciting, but it had frightened her when his physical desires began to darken, and she never got used to the leering club members who considered the hostesses free game. Not her, of course. She was Aragon’s woman. No one touched her. But she didn’t want Vix exposed to any of that.

When the elevators door opened, Ally took a moment to orient herself. The first thing she had to do was find the chambermaid she’d persuaded to help her. Ally had offered the young woman cash, but she’d refused it. She hadn’t agreed to help until Ally disclosed that her sister was missing, and she was afraid for her safety. The chambermaid had lost her own sister to guerrilla forces in Guatemala, where she was born, and she’d been touched by Ally’s plight.

Following the room numbers, Ally quickly located the one she wanted. She was relieved to see the maid already there, industriously polishing the brass doorknob and escutcheon. She spotted Ally, gave her a nod and opened the door to Sinclair’s room.

“Hurry now!” the woman whispered as Ally slipped into the room. “You have five minutes, that’s all. If anyone comes in, I’ll lose my job, and you’ll go to jail.”

“Five minutes, and I’ll be out,” Ally promised, easing the door closed behind her. They’d agreed that the maid would remain outside to head off anyone who might show up, whether the hotel staff or Sinclair himself.

Ally swept the sitting room area, going through the drawers of the entertainment unit and the desk. She found nothing except the usual hotel stationery and sightseeing guides.

Next, she went through the entry closet, checked the guest bath and wet bar, and then lifted all the furniture cushions. As she worked, she noticed that every light in the place was burning. Sinclair hadn’t bothered to turn them off. She made a mental note to keep her hands off the switches—she didn’t want to give away that someone had been there.

Another thing she noticed as she moved through his suite was that other than a few toiletries and the expensive clothes hanging in the master closet, the place was as spartan and spotless as if unoccupied. That didn’t make sense. You couldn’t stay for any length of time in a hotel and not leave some trace of your presence—a scribbled note by the phone, an appointment book on the desk, pictures of family by the bed, a pay stub in the trash can. Something!

Unless you didn’t want anyone to know who you were.

The maid had told her Sinclair’s name, as well as ferreting out a few other details, like his profession. Ally needed more information. Much more.

She checked her watch as she entered the bedroom. The closet door was open, the light burning inside. As she darted over there, she had the craziest thought. Was this man afraid of the dark? Or was he expecting someone?

She fished through the pockets of the suit jackets that hung in the closet. Her efforts produced two sticks of Dentyne and the princely sum of forty-eight cents in loose change. She felt an odd tingle in the pit of her stomach and realized it was the gum. She would have thought it was nerves, except that the scent of cinnamon always reminded her of Red Hots candy, which had the strangest effect on her. Her first summer crush had been eating the candies when he kissed her mouth and a few other places, too. He’d left hints of the spicy scent on her breasts, and it had sent shivers through her days later. She’d refused to shower.

Ally figured that had to be the reason, but whatever it was, Red Hots made her hot. She held the gum to her nose and breathed in. Quickly she put the gum and the money back and cleared her thoughts. There was still work to do here. Her time was almost up, and she needed to know who Sam Sinclair was. In the most basic terms, was he a good guy or a bad guy? Could he be trusted? Would he help her or would he rat her out to Aragon? Those were the questions. But there were no answers in this suite. She stepped out of the closet, jerking her hand back seconds before she touched the light switch.

Her first criminal act was a bust, she realized as she returned to the living room. Worse, she didn’t know where to go from here. She couldn’t approach Sinclair knowing so little about him. But right now, she had to get out of the suite unseen. With the maid acting as lookout, that should be the easiest part of the night.

Voices? Ally crept into the foyer to listen. It sounded as if the maid were talking to someone outside. Ally hoped it was another hotel employee.

“How are you, Mr. Sinclair?” the maid said, speaking loudly enough for Ally to hear her. “I was just going to turn down your bed. I’m afraid we forgot to do that this evening.”

“Thanks,” Sinclair said, “but I’m exhausted.”

“It’s no problem, Mr. Sinclair. Really.” The maid was nearly shouting now, and Ally had already backed out of the foyer.

“No thanks. I’ll take care of it myself.”

Ally’s heart lost a beat when she heard Sinclair’s reply. A second later the doorknob jiggled…then turned.

SAM DETECTED a faint scent the moment he opened the door to his room. Not perfume exactly, but intuition told him it was feminine essence. Light floral tones with a note of something else. Cinnamon? Maybe that determined little brunette who’d been following him for days had finally decided to sneak into his room. He’d left the lights on for her—that was a courtesy. He’d also moved his documents and his laptop computer to a safe place. That was a necessity.

As he slipped his key card into his pocket, it occurred to him that he could flush her out in ways that would probably blow her mind. But she wasn’t a pro, he was certain of that, and there didn’t seem any reason to scare the hell out of her. He’d already done that in the cemetery. Nor would he retrieve the small-frame 9 mm automatic he’d taped under the coffee table. It was there if he needed it.

Sam glanced around the living room as he headed for the bedroom. The lamp on the desk sat a few inches off, one of the sofa cushions was out of place, and he could see the indentation in the carpet where the trash container had been moved and resettled. Not bad for an amateur. It was a reasonably clean and thorough search, but a search nonetheless. But what was she looking for? And more importantly, who did she work for?

It was possible Aragon had sent her in to check him out. She might even be the reason Sam had been stalled in his access to the lower level, although Aragon wouldn’t have been likely to use an amateur. Sam could feel his neck tightening at the thought of this woman in Aragon’s employ. And it wasn’t pleasure burning in his gut. No woman should be at the mercy of that bastard, and this woman didn’t strike him as the type who’d let herself be at anyone’s mercy. Maybe that’s what drew him. Her nerve.

Hell, she was stalking him. That alone was pretty gutsy.

He couldn’t think who else might want to investigate him at the moment, so the odds were with Aragon. This might be another test of Sam’s suitability for membership, and he couldn’t take the chance that it wasn’t. Other than his uncle, no one knew about his personal reasons for being here, so she couldn’t possibly be connected with that mess. If nothing else, he would get some answers out of her tonight.

Sam removed his leather jacket, threw it over the back of a chair and walked into bedroom. “Well, well, well,” he said, eyeing his visitor.

Finding her had never been in question. Finding her draped across his king-size bed, her shoes kicked off and her chin propped up in her palm…now that was a bit of a surprise.

“Mr. Aragon sends his regards,” she said, allowing a seductive pause before adding softly, “and me.”

“Does he now?”

She nodded, her dark eyes sparkling as seductively as the tiny smile on her luscious lips. “I found my contact lens, thank you.”

Sam made his way slowly to the side of the bed. “I’m glad to hear it.” When he looked down, he spotted her high heels lying on the carpet, where she had kicked them off. “And just what am I supposed to do with you?” he asked. He leaned against the dresser and crossed his arms over his chest. He gave her his best disarming smile as he cocked his head appraisingly.

“Anything you want.”

“Now that’s what I call a generous offer.”

His focus narrowed on her face as he searched for something that he had seen a thousand times on a thousand different faces. It was called a tell, and every one had one. It could be anything—a tick, a cough, a certain glance, a gesture.

The woman on his bed locked stares with him. He wouldn’t have called it a poker face, but she wasn’t giving anything away. Or was she? His gut caught the nuance more than his eye. It wasn’t much, a slight challenging rise of her left eyebrow.

“You’re under no obligation,” she said smoothly. “If you prefer to be alone, that’s fine, too.” She moved to sit up.

This was the preamble to her exit line, Sam knew. He pushed himself off the dresser and sat down on the side of the bed, deliberately taking in a long, leisurely eyeful of her. Her short skirt revealed a lot of leg, probably more than she wanted. But everything about those legs was sexy and nice, from her trim ankles to the curves of her calves and thighs. Even the goose bumps.

She was either cold or frightened. Probably both, he imagined. Personally, he liked it cold. It kept him sharp.

“No,” he said, “I think I’d like you to stay a while. After all, it’s rude to refuse a gift offered in friendship.”

Sam rose and placed his hands on her shoulders. He gently pushed with one hand and pulled with the other, pivoting her around on her bottom until he had her positioned just so. He urged her back until her head rested on the thick, fluffy pillows. A strained smile fluttered across her lips as he brushed the hair from her forehead.

“So, how long have you worked for Mr. Aragon?” he asked. He kept his voice soft and nonthreatening.

“A while,” she replied.

“Do you like your work?”

“Sometimes.”

“Have you lived here long?”

“Not really.”

Sinclair grinned. “You’re just a font of information, aren’t you? You sound a little dry. Would you like something to drink? Water, wine?”

She shook her head.

“Good, let’s talk.”

“About what?”

“I have to admit I’m curious about what took you into the cemetery late at night.”

“Just taking a walk. I needed some air and I like dark places.”

“I see,” he said. “This walking through graveyards on your hands and knees…is that something you do often?”

“Not unless I lose a contact lens.”

She compressed her lips in an effort not to smile that struck him as charming. “But you found it?”

“My brown eyes are blue tonight, aren’t they?”

“Oh, yes.” Another challenging tilt of her eyebrow. Possibly she was enjoying this match of wits as much as he was.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on a girl like that,” she said. “You startled me.”

“And that’s why you tried to hide from the security guards?”

Her brows knit. “I wasn’t hiding, Mr. Sinclair. I was…I was startled. You frightened me, popping up out of nowhere like that. You shouldn’t do that. In some circles it would be considered very rude.”

“You seem pretty good at popping up out of nowhere yourself.”

Her response was one of the best I-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about expressions he’d ever witnessed. And he’d witnessed a few.

Sam allowed silence to fill the seconds as he leaned toward her lips. “I’m going to kiss you,” he said. “Is that all right with you?”

Her breath was warm on his cheek and smelled faintly of peppermint. But the tantalizing hints of cinnamon swirled around him, too. Was that her makeup? Her lipstick? He took in a deep draught, savoring its essence. She had to be one of the more enticing women he’d ever had on his bed. Too bad this was all just a setup on his part, a prelude to his interrogation process.

Her lips trembled slightly as his descended toward them. Sam took his time, and sweet time it was as he slipped his right hand under the fold between the pillows and the comforter. His fingers touched a cool, hard cylinder just as his lips touched warm, soft flesh. She moaned softly into his mouth, and Sam wasn’t sure if it was protest or surrender.

He noticed she kept her hands at her side, her palms pressed tight against the bed as her entire body stiffened, becoming as rigid as a wooden plank. Before freeing her mouth completely, Sam indulged in a tiny nibble of her bottom lip. It was succulent and moist, sweet and lickable. Everything a bottom lip should be.

The sigh that slipped out of her was hot and breathy, almost a moan. Sam knew if he didn’t stop this he’d have his own wooden plank to worry about. The sensations stirring deep in his groin were all too familiar. Warmth and fullness. Rising male pleasure.

“Let’s play a game,” he whispered in her ear.

“Ga-ame?” Somehow she’d managed to stretch the word into two complete syllables and make it sound cute in the process. His wait for the proverbial gulp went unrewarded, however. All he got was a dry click from her throat. It would have to do.

He placed his left hand next to her right arm, letting his visitor know that he could easily pin her to the bed under him. As it was, they both understood that she wasn’t going anywhere.

“It’s been my experience that women either love this game or hate it,” he said. “Nothing in between. What do you say? Don’t want to disappoint Mr. Aragon, do we? Not when he was kind enough to send such a generous and alluring gift.”

She kept trying to smile, and failing. “I suppose not.”

“Good girl,” Sam said. With that he pulled the cylinder from beneath the pillow, leveraged it with his knee and expertly ripped off a strip of silver tape, one-handed.

“What’s that?” Ally asked.

She barely had the question out before her wrist was wrapped in silver. He held up the roll of duct tape for her to see, and she edged away from him.

“What are you going to do with that?”

It would have amazed her to know all the various uses a man like Sam had for duct tape, including de-linting his clothes and flinging it like a Frisbee to startle intruders. Right now, he had something more interesting in mind.

“I have enough of this stuff to wrap your entire naked body,” he told her. “Quite a gift you’d be then, hmm? Can you imagine what that would feel like, especially when I unwrap you?”

He gave the tape around her wrist a tug, and then ripped it free. She winced, but held his gaze like a trooper. Still she was nervous now, and that was just where he wanted her. It was nothing personal. Situations like this demanded that he press his advantage.

“Is this a bondage game?” she asked. “I don’t normally do the kinky stuff. I could get someone else for you, though. Just let me make a phone call, and I’ll take care of that right away.”

Sam smiled down at her as he stood up. “Bondage game? No, afraid not, although that might be interesting for later. What we’re about to play is a mind game. And just so you know, there’s a part of this game that some women simply hate.”

Letting that sink in, he added, “I’m going to ask you some questions and you’re going to answer them. There’s nothing to it, as long as you tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. You’re familiar with that concept, aren’t you?”

The last question was delivered with a straight face.

The “ga-ame” had just turned serious.

WHY DID ALLY FEEL as if she’d just been asked the mother of all trick questions? Everything about the situation suddenly seemed like a setup. The lights being on, the absence of any personal items, Sinclair’s unexpected appearance—had he known she would show up here?

Clearly the plan had blown up in her face, and she couldn’t see any way to turn things to her advantage, but she wasn’t giving up. She’d been caught in his suite, trapped in his bed, and she strongly suspected he hadn’t been fooled into believing she was one of Aragon’s women, sent up as a midnight snack. But she was sticking to her story.

“I really do need to make a call,” she said evenly. “If I don’t check in with the club, they’ll try to reach me on my cell.”

“Well, if they do, I’ll answer for you and tell them you’re much too busy to be disturbed. Now…for our little game.”

Sinclair bent down, picked up one of her high heels and held it up to the light, as if to examine it. She’d chosen the sexiest shoes she owned. They were open-toed with a cap heel and delicate straps that crisscrossed her ankle. But now they were scraped and soiled from her adventure in the graveyard.

He cast a quizzical glance her way. “Dirty shoes on an Aragon woman? By the looks of these heels, you must have taken the back way out of the cemetery. Wouldn’t one of the club’s hostesses change her clothes—and shoes—before making her appointed rounds?”

“I suppose I should have, now that you mention it. I didn’t want to be late.”

She didn’t like where this was heading. He seemed to know more than he was letting on, which meant he was playing with her. She had to start planning her next move—out of this place.

Sinclair set down the shoe in favor of examining her ankles. He leaned across the bed and began tracing his fingertip along the tender flesh of her calves. “Goose bumps. Are you cold?”

Ally wasn’t. She had too much adrenaline coursing through her body to feel the biting chill in the room.

“And these red bumps look like insect bites,” he said. “Maybe chiggers? Mosquitoes? Just how long were you searching for your contact lens? Must have been quite some time.”

Ally remembered being bitten by insects while at the cemetery. She hadn’t thought it would be used as evidence against her.

“I’m not having fun,” she said. “I’d like to go now.”

“Oh, but I’m not through with you yet. In fact, we’ve only just started.”

He sat down next to her, his smile fading as his dark eyes drilled holes through her. “I want to know why you’re here and what you’re up to,” he said. “I’m not convinced you work for Aragon, or that he sent you here to please me or to keep me company. The game ends when I have those questions answered, and not a minute before.”

He studied her intently. “And while we’re at it, maybe you can explain why you’ve been following me for the last three days.”

He had known all along. He had been just waiting for the right moment. The adrenaline blast that had cut off her ability to feel cold in the room was now paralyzing her vocal chords. “F-following you? No, I—”

Sinclair rose to his full height, gazing down at her. This time he meant business. His dark gold eyebrows had flattened and his expression was steely.

Ally ran through her options. She could tell him the truth, which was out of the question since she still wasn’t sure who he was. Lie to him, which was tempting except that she didn’t happen to have a convincing lie handy. Or remain silent and tell him nothing.

She went for the last one. Silence. Let him make the next move, she decided. If things got out of hand, she would scream her head off. This was a hotel. They had security.

“I’m waiting,” Sinclair said.

“I must admit, you have me curious, Mr. Sinclair, if I may call you that. The club gave me your name. Maybe we can do some bargaining? I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.”

Sinclair shook his head. “This is my game, and I don’t answer questions.”

“Then I don’t play.”

He cocked his head slightly. He was appraising her again, but Ally had no clue what was going through his mind.

His voice dropped low. “Remember when I said there was a part of this game that some women hated?”

She managed a weak nod, her heart thrumming wildly as he moved to the side of the bed. He pulled her to her feet, his fingers firmly wrapped around her wrists. “Well, here it comes.”

4

SAM RELEASED Ally almost as swiftly as he’d pulled her to her feet. With a suspicious eye, she watched him reach for the phone on the nightstand.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a phone call.”

He might as well have pulled a gun on her. Who was he calling? The police? Jason Aragon? She couldn’t let him do either.

“Let’s play that game,” she said.

He cast her a quizzical glance. “Now you want to play?”

“I love games. Love, love, love them. Who doesn’t? Put down the phone and let’s play.”

“Oh, but I can’t. The phone call is an important part of this game.”

“How so?” She didn’t like the smile that played at the edges of his mouth. It was too sensual.

Sam tapped the receiver, probably to taunt her. “Ever played truth or dare? Well, this is truth or bare. I ask a question, and you answer it. If you tell the truth, we go to the next question. If I catch you in a lie, you remove one piece of clothing.”

“Truth or bare?”

He rolled right on, ignoring her disbelief. “If you refuse to remove said piece of clothing, I pick up this phone, call Mr. Aragon, and tell him I’m not happy with my little gift.”

He let that sink in before continuing. “There may even be time to return my gift to him personally, if that becomes necessary. Is there any part of the game you don’t understand?”

He held out the phone, and she glared at him until he returned it to the cradle. She watched with annoyance as he fished around in his pocket and withdrew a handful of items. Among the keys and coins was an opened package of Dentyne.

Clearly the man had a bad gum habit.

Then she noticed the sparkly thing in his palm. Nestled next to the Dentyne was a small single key. She would have recognized it anywhere. The platinum key was the club’s most coveted symbol of privilege. He now had access to the lower level, and that meant she needed him more than ever.