Game for Anything (8 page)

The woman opened her mouth and shut it. Tracker could see pride war with her desire to grant her daughter's birthday wish. “I'll take it.”

“Good. I'll wrap it for you.” Gathering up the doll, Sophie hurried into the back room.

So the Princess was sweet. If he hadn't already liked her, he would have then.

“I'll see you tonight then?” he heard John Landry saying before he reentered the back room.

Tracker frowned. The man just didn't give up. He pushed through the door in time to hear Sophie say, “Of course.”

There was no sign of Noah, and Tracker watched John lean down and brush Sophie's cheek with a kiss.

“Why don't I pick you up?” Landry asked.

Tracker took a step into the back room. “Am I interrupting something?”

Sophie shot him a quick look. “John has to leave. But he's going to be at Millie Langford-Hughes's party tonight.” She turned back to John. “Tracker is going to be there, too.”

“We're going together,” Tracker said.

“I see.”

See that you do.
Though he didn't say the words
aloud, Tracker kept his eyes on Landry until the man exited the shop through the back door.

“You purposely tried to intimidate him,” Sophie said.

Tracker shifted his gaze to her and smiled. “I did more than try.”

“You did the same thing out in the truck. Why?”

“He wants you and—” Tracker stopped himself before the words slipped out. He was going to say
you're mine.
Instead, he managed a smile. “We have a deal, Princess.”

“Yes, we do.” She moved toward him then, studying him closely. “And I don't think you're telling me the whole truth. I couldn't help but notice the way you were watching him while we were uncrating the shipment. You were watching everybody. Why?”

She was smart, and if he wasn't careful, the Princess was going to figure out way too much for her own good. Cursing himself, Tracker moved toward her. “It's those damn dice.”

“The dice?” Her eyes widened as he caged her against the counter with his arms.

“I don't want you using them with anyone else. Only me.” It was the truth, he realized. He was speaking the truth and the worst kind of lie at the same time. But he couldn't let her suspect his real reason for being in her shop and in her bed. Years of living on the streets had made him skillful at lying convincingly.

“You're jealous?”

“Seems so. He's nice, and I'm not.” Tracker moved closer and watched her eyes darken around the image of himself that he could see in them. No, he
wasn't nice. He would use any means to keep her safe. Including sex. Lowering his head, he brushed his mouth along her jaw to her ear. Then he whispered softly, “Do you remember what the dice said, Princess?”

“Yes.” Her voice was breathless. Her scent was filling him.

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“No?” Surprised, he drew back slightly until his eyes met hers. There was desire there and mischief, too.

“Why don't I show you?” she said instead.

Her hand was on him then, moving along the entire hard length of his erection. Tracker had to struggle to swallow a moan. “Sophie.”

“I want to do this without your clothes in the way. And I want to keep touching you like this until you come.”

He gripped the edge of the counter behind her, hard. He could imagine all too well how it would feel to have her hands on him without the barrier of clothes. Right now, she wouldn't have to work very hard to get her wish. He wouldn't have to work very hard to get his, either—he could picture slipping her out of her red slacks, lifting her to the counter and burying himself deep inside of her. For a moment he allowed the images to play themselves out in his mind. Then he said in a soft voice, “In another minute, Melly's mom might be very shocked.”

Slowly Sophie drew her hand away. Then she met his eyes. “We'll finish this later.”

“Your wish is my command, Princess.” Tracker released his grip on the counter and eased himself out of her way. As he watched her pick up the package and walk off, he drew in a deep breath and let it out.

When she reached the door, she turned back. “And then it will be my turn to roll the dice.”

Lust and nerves settled into a hard knot in his center. Using sex to distract Sophie was turning into a double-edged sword.

 

T
HE
P
UPPET
M
ASTER
was smiling at his companion as he punched numbers into the speakerphone. The chess game was going well. And within a very short time, he would have the last coin.

As soon as someone lifted the receiver on the other end, he said, “Report.”

“I don't have it.”

His smile faded. “You've failed me?”

“No. I swear to you it's not in the shop.”

With one hand he swept the chess pieces off of the board in front of him. “It was shipped. I have a copy of the shipping list in front of me. You have failed me.”

“No. I'll get ahold of it. I have an idea of what might have happened.”

“What
might
have happened?”

“You'll have it soon. I'll deliver it in person.”

“You have until midnight.”

He cut the connection and summoned a smile for his companion. “My apologies. We'll have to start a new game.”

T
HEY WERE LATE
. Ordinarily, Sophie would have been annoyed with herself. She was always punctual, always prepared when it came to business, and a cocktail party at Millie Langford-Hughes's house was simply an extension of her workday. But Sophie was finding it very difficult to work up any regrets about her tardiness when it had been caused by the insatiable lust of the man sitting next to her.

She shot Tracker a quick sideways glance. He was staring straight ahead and wearing sunglasses against the glare of the early evening sun. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

She hoped he was thinking about what had happened in her shower after he'd joined her there. He hadn't wanted to. He'd told her that much as he'd lifted her and pressed her against the wall. He'd told her again when she'd wrapped her legs around him and he'd entered her. But he couldn't stop himself. And he hadn't been gentle. A smile curved her lips. She hadn't wanted him to be. The roughness of his lovemaking, the desperation that she'd felt in his hands, in each thrust of his body… Just thinking about it sent an arrow of pleasure shooting through her. The
idea that a man could want her that much had filled her with such a sense of power.

The gentleness had come afterward when he'd held her in his arms until the water had turned cold. It would be so tempting to interpret that gentleness as meaning that he cared for her. But she couldn't let herself expect that. She wouldn't. People disappointed you when you did.

Seeing the yellow light ahead, she pressed her foot on the brake and took the corner on two wheels.

Tracker slammed a hand into the dashboard. “Easy, Princess.”

Sophie glanced over at him. He seemed even larger in the front seat of her Miata. The thought struck her then that they were racing through the streets in a convertible with the top down just as Grace Kelly and Cary Grant had in
To Catch a Thief.
Only Grace hadn't just come from a bout of hot sex in the shower. Sophie laughed as she slammed on the brakes at a red light.

“Want to share the joke?” Tracker asked.

She turned to him then, and her heart did a little somersault in her chest. He was dressed in black—not the jeans and T-shirt that he'd worn in the shop all day, but in slacks and an elegant silk shirt, open at the throat. Just looking at the few curls of chest hair that were visible had her throat going dry. The sunglasses kept her from seeing his eyes, and made him seem even more dangerous.

A funny little ache began to grow deep inside of her. How could she want him again so soon? “I was just thinking that I'd like to blow everything off and
just keep driving—maybe up into the mountains somewhere. Have you ever been tempted to do something like that?” she asked.

“Just about every day in my misspent youth.”

“It's hard to believe you had one. You seem so dedicated to your work.”

“I think this is a case of the pot calling the kettle black. I've seldom seen anyone as dedicated as you.”

The pleasure that his words brought moved through her. But she wasn't going to be distracted. “Did you ever give in to the temptation?”

“Too many times to count.” Reaching over, he tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. “If you wanted to blow the party, I'll bet you could find a way to persuade me.”

Several methods slipped into Sophie's mind and she was very tempted to try them one at a time, but a sharp honk from the car behind her had her gripping the wheel and making a sharp turn. Gathering her thoughts, she said, “Millie would never forgive me.” She flicked him a look as she turned into a circular drive. “Although the persuading part sounds interesting. How about a rain check?”

He grinned at her. “You got it. I'll even play hard to get.”

She was laughing as she handed the key to the valet who opened her car door. When she joined Tracker on the other side, she pitched her voice low. “You weren't playing very hard to get in the shower.”

His expression sobered. “I wasn't easy on you.”

Sophie studied him for a minute. No, he wasn't a
man who would ever be easy on a woman. Then she smiled slowly. “I guess I'll just have to get even.”

He studied her. He'd been rough with her in the shower. But he hadn't hurt her, and he was beginning to believe that he wouldn't—at least not physically. Finally, he said, “This party can be your revenge.”

“You don't like parties?” she asked as he took her arm and led her up the steps to the house.

“I can think of several other things I'd rather be doing,” he said as a man who looked more like a linebacker than a butler opened the door.

“Good evening, Miss Wainwright.”

“Good evening to you, too, Callahan.” Standing on tiptoes, she brushed a kiss against his cheek. “This is my brother's friend, Tracker McBride. Ms. Langford-Hughes knows that I'm bringing him.”

Callahan gave Tracker an assessing look, then nodded. “They're in the solarium.”

“I didn't know they used bouncers at elite Washington parties,” Tracker said as they moved down a wide hall that bisected the two wings of the house.

“Don't worry. Callahan has been with Millie's family forever. He's really a sweetheart. Sir Winston is her third husband, and I think part of Callahan's job is to bounce the husbands once they turn out to be cads.”

“Is Sir Winston likely to turn out to be a cad?”

Sophie shook her head with a smile. “Not that I can tell. He was very attentive to her at the shop, and Millie claims this is her first love match.”

The solarium was a huge room that boasted a glass ceiling, a variety of potted plants and trees, and French
doors that opened onto a flagstone patio and the gardens. The air was filled with the scents of food and flowers. Tables laden with delicacies lined one wall, and a string quartet was situated at the other side of the room. Mozart blended with the sounds of laughter and glasses clinking as the bigwigs of the nation's capital sipped drinks and made deals. Sophie straightened her shoulders and scanned the crowd eagerly.

“You really enjoy this kind of thing, don't you?” Tracker asked.

“Each one of those people is a potential customer. I look at them and I hear my cash register going
cha-ching, cha-ching.
”

“You remind me of your brother.”

Surprised, she looked at him then. “I'm not like Lucas at all. He's the dutiful son who took over the company and saved it. During the two years I worked there, I could never please him. He always wanted to be so conservative, and I wanted to try new things. I started my own business because I had to get away from that.”

“You needed the freedom of being your own boss. But you have the same determination Lucas has to make the business a success, and your shop means as much to you as Wainwright means to Lucas.”

She frowned as she turned back to scan the crowd again. “Okay. You're right about my wanting freedom. And I can see some similarity in terms of our dedication to our work, but in other ways Lucas and I are as different as…well, you and I—” She grabbed his hand. “Millie and Chris Chandler are on their way toward us.” She took a step forward, then glanced
back at him. “You're going to be incredibly bored, aren't you?”

“I'll manage. You go ahead and do your thing.”

Drawing in a deep breath, she slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out a card. She'd brought it with her, and she was going to use it. “I want you to be thinking about this.”

As he took it and read it, Sophie held her breath while her heart jittered. She'd slipped the “quickie on demand” card from the deck while she'd been dressing, but she hadn't intended to give it to Tracker until they were leaving. “In terms of anticipation, I thought it might relieve the boredom of the party for you.”

He still didn't say anything, but when his eyes finally met hers, she felt the heat streak right down to her toes. “I'm going to do more than think about this, Princess.”

The paralyzing look was back in his eyes, and Sophie thought of her red convertible and how easy it would be to grab Tracker's hand and make a run for it. The hills of Monte Carlo were beckoning.

“Sophie, my dear, you're never late. I was worried.” Millie Langford-Hughes took her hands and kissed the air on both sides of Sophie's face.

Then Sophie found her hands grasped in Sir Winston's large ones. “I'm so glad you could come, my dear. It means a great deal to Millie and, therefore, to me.”

For a second, as she glanced into his twinkling gray eyes, Sophie felt a tug of familiarity, just as she had in her shop. There was such warmth, such sincerity in his eyes. She couldn't figure out if he reminded her of
Santa Claus or Ernest Hemingway. Either way, there wasn't a doubt in her mind that this time Millie had indeed found her love match.

“Nice to see you again, Mr. McBride,” Millie said, taking his hand. “I'm so happy you could come, and I have someone who is just dying to meet you.”

Tracker gave Sophie one last look before Millie pulled him away in the direction of the patio. Sir Winston gave them a wave and then followed in his wife's wake.

“Oh, my,” Chris said in a voice meant only for Sophie's ears. “I saw the way McBride was looking at you.” He paused to fan himself. “If we could bottle that, we wouldn't have to worry about energy conservation. I'd say he's a bit more to you than your brother's friend.”

Sophie turned to him and prayed that she wasn't blushing. “He's my friend, too.”

“Sure he is,” Chris said, taking her arm and tucking it through his. “And I won't breathe a word of it to a soul. He's much more your type than the buttoned-down egocentric banker type you almost married last year.”

Sophie choked on a laugh. Chris's description fit her ex-fiancé to a T.

“As for that Landry fellow, he might as well be a clone of your ex. You're much better suited to Mr. McBride.”

“Better suited?” Sophie turned to study him, no mean feat while Chris was dragging her through the crowd. “Why would you say that? Tracker and I don't have anything in common.”

Chris waved a hand and shot her a sly wink. “You have passion. It virtually crackles in the air around you, and that's not a bad place to start. But enough talk about your love life. Before I introduce you to this prospective client I have all lined up for you, I want to know when your next shipment is coming in. I have another client who is interested in picking up some of the ceramic work by the same artist who made that lovely blue-green bowl you tagged for Millie. He's looking for something with an equestrian theme.” Chris leaned close again. “I think he has some kind of fetish for horses.”

Sophie crossed her fingers behind her back. “I'll certainly keep an eye out for that.”

 

M
ILLIE CUT A WIDE SWATH
though the crowd, shooting like an arrow toward a couple on the far side of the room.

“I want you to meet my niece, Meryl Beacham,” Millie said to Tracker. “She runs the art gallery next to Sophie's shop.” She pulled up short in front of a striking woman with black hair in a straight, angular cut. Chance was standing next to her.

“Meryl, I want you to meet Tracker McBride, a friend of Lucas and Sophie Wainwright. And this is Carter Mitchell, Meryl's gallery manager.”

“Carter.” Tracker took the hand that Chance offered, then turned his attention to Meryl. “It's a pleasure.”

“A mutual one,” Meryl said in a throaty voice.

“I knew you two would hit it off. Enjoy,” Millie
said with a wave of her hand as she took Sir Winston's arm and swept him away.

Meryl shifted her gaze to the archway of the solarium. “My aunt is a huge busybody, and she introduces every male to me that she can find. However, I think we're safe now. A four-star general has just appeared on her radar screen. Aunt Millie has bigger fish to fry, for a while anyway.” Then she turned her attention back to Tracker. “Why haven't I seen you around Sophie's shop before?”

“I'm on vacation here.” The brunette had an easy, open manner, but the fact that Chance hadn't mentioned that he and Tracker had “met” earlier in Sophie's shop warned him to be careful. “I've been visiting out at Lucas's estate in Virginia.” That much was true. Any number of people who had attended the party could attest to the fact that he'd been there.

“So Sophie discovered you first and you're taken?”

Tracker smiled then, finding her frankness disarming. “You might say that.”

“Just my luck.” She glanced at Chance. “I'm standing here with the two best-looking men in the room. One of them's gay and the other is already spoken for. C'mon, Carter, if I can't play with Mr. McBride here, I'd better put you to work marketing my gallery to all these potential customers.”

Tracker turned to study the room, his gaze going immediately to Sophie. She was talking to a tall man with a waxed mustache—Charles Lipscomb, England's newly appointed ambassador to the United States. She'd spoken the truth when she'd said that she was here to work. When Tracker considered the
day she'd already put in, his admiration for her went up another notch. He'd always thought of her as a pampered, rebellious princess. But he'd never in his wildest dreams imagined that she felt herself to be a misfit in her own family. He could empathize with the feeling. In the string of foster homes he'd been shuffled to, he'd never once fit in.

Shifting his gaze, he glanced toward the archway that all new arrivals had to pass through, and spotted John Landry. Well, except for Noah Danforth, that completed the list of suspects that Chance had originally given him. And Tracker still didn't have a clue as to who was putting Sophie's life in danger.

“Sometimes this job sucks,” Chance said at his elbow. “My lovely companion and boss allows me a five-minute break to smoke. Me and this Scotch are heading out to the patio. See you there in a minute?”