Playing For Keeps (Montana Men) (3 page)

Distaste curled through his gut. The last thing he wanted
was to attend a formal dinner on an icy night. But when Samantha Rivers issued
one of her special invitat
ions
—
secretly
coded,
Be there or
else—
one didn’t ignore it. His gut told him
she planned on their attending some party. His mind rebelled at the thought. H
e
might have been a little more receptive if the past week or so hadn’t been so
harrowing, but it was
n’t over yet.

Wait-wait-wait
—
it’s
all he did
—
wait
for good news
—
bad
news. Hell, no wonder he was ready to crack.
Hope for his sister’s
survival trickled away by the hour. Dianna and Taylor had been missing for too
long now. A couple more days, and the odds of their surviving took a steep
decline, from zero, to minus zero.

Wild, his younger brother, had phoned him the night
before. Wild would never give up searching, but his brother’s voice sounded
thin and strained. The pressure of locating the plane, possibly even Dianna and
Taylor’s bodies, was beginning to beat him down too.

“The officials are calling off the search after tomorrow,”
Wild reported. “They haven’t seen a sign of the plane, Duel. They don’t think
Dianna or Taylor’s alive.”

“What does Raider say?” Duel knew damned well their
Australian cousin wouldn’t call off the search, not as long as there was any
hope at all, but there were only so many hours one could stay in the air when
there were thousands of miles to cover, and fuel was costly.

“That Silver and Colt will keep searching until there’s no
place left to search. But you and I both know the quest can’t go on
indefinitely. Raider has Damnboola to run, and Jesus, it’s a big fucking place.
Have you ever seen all of it?”

“Once. It makes Dancing Star look like a petting zoo.”

“The country…the land…it’s mesmerizing. I tell you, it
gets under a man’s skin.”

“I know. Tell Raider thanks for whatever time he can
spare, and I’ll see to it he’s reimbursed for the cost of fuel for the planes.”

Wild
sighed
into the phone. “I
already tried to pay him. He refused the money.”

“Of course he did.” Duel felt as hopeless as Wild sounded.
“We’re family. Raider loves Dianna, too.”

“Yeah, that’s what he said just before he decked me for
offering him the money. I have to go. I’ll call again as soon as I have
something to report.”

Duel laughed. “Raider punched you?”

“I didn’t feel a thing. He hits like a sissy.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah.” Wild groaned. “I think he broke my jaw.”

“Uh-huh. He and Jace pack the same mean wallop. Next time,
duck.”

“Count on it,” Wild said and broke the connection.

Duel worried his lower lip. What a mess. The only bright note in all of
it was the fact that Taylor was with Dianna. He didn’t care much for the man.
Kaycee’s brother had a lot of anger and resentment to work through, and most of
the man’s antagonism was directed at Jace and Dianna. He understood why Taylor
disliked Jace, but he couldn’t figure out what the man had against Dianna. His
sister had never done anything to the man, but Kaycee’s brother was a bitter
soul, and for some reason, Dianna and Taylor riled each other. No matter, Duel
preferred
someone be with her than for her to be alone in the Australian wilds
—
defenseless
—
possibly injured. Taylor was better
than nothing.
One thing was sure—
Kaycee didn’t need this. Because of
that bastard Smitt Davis, Kaycee
 
and
Jace
—
all
of them had been through hell.

Truth to tell, he’d rather be in Australia helping with
the rescue search than here in McLean waiting for Sam’s next orders to filter
down the line. His mind wasn’t on espionage, but his job didn’t allow him to
play by the rules. It wasn’t something he could merely refuse when an
assignment came through, or ignore the boss when she called.

Jesus, he was getting too old for this shit! He’d lost his
edge. Either that or the job had lost the thrill and the challenge it once
held. These days, it felt tarnished. The things he’d seen and done had left an
inkblot on his soul, and he didn’t think it’d ever go away. Even the casino he
owned and operated in Reno had lost its appeal.

The only reason he’d bought it in the first place was to
work undercover to bring down a company installing slot machines in the casinos
that paid strictly to their company. Someone with a powerful arm and a
connection to nearly every casino had assisted them, using the social establishments
and their electric, using casino coins without the owner or player making a
dime. It had taken him the better part of two years to track down the inside
man, but just before Jace was shot, Duel had cracked the case.

As soon as he’d solved the case in Reno, he’d left
immediately, handing the reins of the business over to Grace Holland, his
assistant manager. Returning home to Dancing Star had made him feel alive and
whole again
.

But he was tired of being alone, of living life on the
brink of disaster. Ah well, at least he didn’t have to worry about a wife. He
had no prospects, not even a steady girlfriend. There sure wasn’t much point in
thinking about a wife and kids. Right now, he was married to the job, even if
he did plan a divorce in the near future.

The elevator dinged. The doors swished open and the next
group crowded into the cramped space of the car. He looked around, amazed to
see he was the only person left waiting, but he refused to jam inside an
overloaded elevator. Duel jabbed the up button and waited—again.

A slight rustle down the hall behind him snagged his
attention. He thought everyone from this floor had left. Curious, Duel turned
and watched a woman back out of an open doorway. She paused, her profile to
him. There was something taut and angry in her stance, as if she was fed up and
ready to give in to her temper.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Neil?” she said,
her voice threaded with irritation. “I don’t date co-workers.”

“No one said anything about a date, honey,” the unseen
Neil replied from inside the office. “I just want to sample the merchandise
you’re peddling to Mac.”

Her slender body stiffened. “I don’t
sleep
with coworkers either.”

“You’re such a pretty liar. Everyone knows you’re putting
out to Mac and have been for the last few months.”

She clenched her fists.
“I’m
a liar? You’re the one who spreads tales.”

Laughter. “I’m not the one who busted up Mac’s marriage.
Hey, doll face, we’ve all seen you dining together, seen you walking in the
park, his arm around your shoulders. You two look pretty damn cozy.”

“I can take walks with whomever I please. It’s called
freedom of choice.”

“It’s called
afternoon
delight
. I have an apartment in Langley, not too far from here, same as
Mac. Now that he’s retired, wadda ya say I take up the slack? Why not meet me
later tonight, let me test the goods?”

“Don’t hold your breath,” she snapped.

“I can get a hundred bitches just like you.” Neil had
obviously lost his patience.

Duel snorted. Good old Neil Turner was on a roll. He knew the
man. Neil had always been a loser.

“Be my guest. I’m not stopping you.” The woman sounded
furious, and who could blame her?

“You might look like a great fuck, but you’re cold as a
fish. I bet Mac can’t even get his rocks off riding you.”

“You have a filthy mouth to match your mind,” she said.
Her voice sounded shaky.

Duel’s temper shot up another notch. Damn. It was none of
his business, but he didn’t like Neil’s words or tone.

“You want to be careful, Neil…the boss frowns on sexual
harassment. You crossed the line several words back.” Her voice could have
frozen ice cubes. “I’m warning you, say another word to me, and I swear I’ll
make you eat them.” She slammed the door, stood there a moment, her fists
clenched, breasts heaving with rage. Finally gaining control, she turned to her
right and took off down the hall in the opposite direction from where Duel
watched and listened.

He whistled softly. The lady had a temper! Neil hadn’t
made a thing off her. It was obvious from the way she’d tightened her hands
into small fists she’d wanted to tear back in there and rip Neil’s balls out
through his nostrils. Duel winced at the thought, but he didn’t blame her. No
matter her affair with Mac, Neil was way out of line.

By having an illicit affair with a married man, the woman
had set herself up for scorn in the workplace. The ones who gossiped didn’t shy
away from spreading ugly stories, but she wasn’t the first woman who’d done
such a thing. The blame wasn’t totally hers, either. Mac had to shoulder some
of the responsibility.

Apparently his old friend had dumped the entire nasty
burden on the woman and left her hanging. Duel didn’t like that. None of it
sounded like the Mac he knew either.

While he didn’t approve of his friend’s affair, he
couldn’t criticize the older man’s taste in women. From what he’d seen, she was
gorgeous and sexy as hell. Watching her walk away, Duel knew exactly what Angie
had meant about the woman’s walk, tight skirt and ultra-spiked heels. Pure sex.

And he hoped she was on her way to file a sexual
harassment complaint. No matter what she was guilty of, she didn’t deserve to
be talked to like she was a whore. From what he’d heard, Neil was not only a
loser, but an asshole, too.

Who was she?
Besides Mac’s new squeeze?

Duel couldn’t recall ever seeing her in the building
before, but then Angie did say she was new. How new? It took time for two
strangers to get acquainted enough to start an affair.

For a second, he pondered the sound of her deep throaty
voice. His stomach clenched with violent need. There was something about her
voice, as if she’d smoked too much or was sated from
a night of pleasure or
spent an afternoon
—
he
shook his head.
Afternoon delight?

Very many afternoons spent with her and
g
ood God
—
Mac
would
have a heart attack! That husky voice of hers, well
—
she sounded hot, sultry, and inviting
—
ma
ybe that was what Neil or Mac
couldn’t resist—the sexy invitation, the challenge in her voice that plainly
said,
Come and get me, boys
—
if you think you can handle me.

Duel shifted from one booted foot to another. Oh, he
could. He damn well could. Abruptly, he adjusted the front of his jeans that
had suddenly grown restrictive. Son-of-a-bitch! Well, sometimes that’s just the
way it happened. Stunning woman. Instant attraction. Urgent need. A challenge.
A hunt. Conquest and conquer. Damn, he’d like one night riding her to ease this
tight, raw ache in his groin.

Duel clenched his jaw. He had a job to do. But her voice
lingered in his mind, swirling like cigar smoke in a brandy glass. It made a
man yearn for illicit things. Forbidden! Ah. She might be legal, but she
belonged to Mac. Gritting his teeth, he swore softly. He wasn’t the kind who
jumped another man’s claim, no matter how attracted he felt.

Still, it was going to be difficult to ignore the ribbon
of heat that coiled in his gut, wrapped around his balls and squeezed. The
discomfort in his groin tightened. The painful twinge settled into a steady
throb. He couldn’t fault Neil for wanting her, but in his book, when a woman
said no—it meant no.

Apparently Neil hadn’t received that memo.

Duel watched t
he angry woman storm down the hall, her
narrow back straight and rigid. He slid his gaze over her from head to heel,
and paused. Her six-inch black heels stole his breath
—
black patent leather, the narrow straps
laced up her slender calf just below her knees
—
stripper shoes, sexy, sassy and a hell of a turn-on. With
every step, the sharp heels tapped out an angry
clack-clack, clack-clack
on the tile.

Duel cocked a hip and watched her all the way down the
hall. How the hell did a woman walk in pencil-thin heels like that? Good grief,
she was a walking, talking weapon. The woman obviously had a mean temper, so
how had she kept her cool when she’d been so provoked?

He couldn’t take his eyes off her fine-boned ankles or
those sexy shoes. Duel swallowed a moan. Why on earth did he find her heels so
interesting? It was something about the way the straps fit around her slender
legs. He’d never paid much attention to the outer covering on a woman’s foot.
Huh. No, he’d always been too occupied figuring out how to smooth-talk her into
shedding her clothes to worry about what covered her feet.

But everything about this enticing female captured and
held his attention. The two-piece business suit she wore was nicely tailored.
It fit her slim body snugly, yet not vulgarly
tight, and was the prettiest color he’d
ever seen
—
two-tone
autumn colors
—
somewhere between bronze and burnt orange. Swear to God, it shimmered like gold
when she moved.

He lifted a brow, admiring everything about her. Tilting
his head to one side, he followed the delicious sway of her hips with his eyes.
Nice ass—taut, toned. The iridescent material of her skirt stretched across her
rounded bottom to perfection.

A wealth of vivid red curls, shiny and full of life
—
of fire, swept across narrow shoulders
a
nd down the middle of a straight back. A man might combust just
touching it. And he didn’t mean her hair. His fingers curled into his palms.
Yeah, definitely, a man would burn, a flash-fire, hot and swift and over in
seconds. There’d be nothing left but ash.