SeductiveIntent (11 page)

“She’s probably just Brendan’s usual easy lay.”

“Was she a guest or wasn’t she?” he said sharply.

“Well, that’s the funny part. Virginia and Aaron didn’t
really know who she was. Neither of them did. And she probably didn’t come with
anyone since Brendan got her up to his room without much trouble. So why she
was at the wedding—”

“Hey, where are you going?”

He was in the penthouse elevator before he allowed himself
the luxury of swearing. When he was done, it all came down to one thought. That
stupid jerk.

* * * * *

Brendan was just stepping out of the shower, one he’d had to
force himself not to wake Sophia up to join him in, when his cell phone rang.
Toweling himself off, he glanced at the caller ID. Shit. He should just ignore
it, like he had the previous five calls. What was with this guy? He couldn’t
just leave a message? He threw the towel down and stepped into a pair of
shorts. Picking the cell up, he glanced at the closed bathroom door, and said
in his most unwelcoming voice, “What?”

“You really are a dick, Beckett.”

What the fuck? Who was bothering who here? Mandrake was
showing his usual bad taste in men with this guy apparently. “Look, Kendon,
forget you have this number. I don’t like to be bothered with details—”

“And I don’t like to be bothered with spoiled rich guys who
are too stupid to take the most basic necessary precautions or at least to warn
me when they don’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You hired me to try to find out why someone would break
into your apartment, bug it, drug you probably—”

“What? I was drugged, you think?”

“And then hold you at gunpoint. That’s my job, right?”

“Until I fire you, which I believe I may be about to do.”

“Well, before you do, might I point out that guys held at
gunpoint in their apartment by women they can’t see should be a little cautious
in their dealings with the opposite sex immediately thereafter?”

“Who’s saying I’m not?”

“You are so thinking with your dick. You run off to the
Caymans—“

“What business is it of yours?”

“With a mysterious girl you picked up at your sister’s
wedding.”

“Is that all this hissy fit is about? Don’t sweat it,
Kendon. I pick up mysterious girls all the time. It’s no big deal.” He didn’t
want to admit that he’d suspected the same thing himself, especially now that
he knew that was ridiculous.

“Yeah, everybody’s free with that particular fact, which
leads me to believe that whoever that babe is you got with you is probably your
midnight intruder.”

“Based on what?” Brendan scoffed.

He could practically hear the other guy shaking his head
over the phone. “What’s her name?”

“Sophia.”

“Sophia what?” At the noticeable pause on Brendan’s part,
Kendon added, “The fact you don’t know her last name is the only thing you got
going for you. Any con would have a phony last name and a whole background
story mapped out.”

“See?” Brendan said. “It’s not her. I knew it couldn’t be
anyway.”

“Oh yeah, how is that?”

He didn’t want to tell him the real reason, so he told him
the first one that had occurred to him. “The girl in my bedroom that night, ah,
felt different.”

“Not the right height?”

“No, it’s not that.”

“What?”

“Okay, she was flat.”

“Oh, for Christ sake.”

“And Sophia is most definitely not.”

“You ever heard of a jogging bra, buddy?”

Brendan let the uncomfortable thought—which he’d dismissed
when he discovered Sophia was a virgin—back into his head. He supposed the two,
virgin and burglar, were not necessarily mutually exclusive. He didn’t like the
idea she might be mixed up in all this, even less so than when he’d had it
originally. It couldn’t be Sophia. It couldn’t be. This guy was just paranoid.
“Look, why are you so worried it could be her? As I said, this kind of thing is
not that unusual for me.”

“Because the thief was a woman, which is unusual. Because if
she was beautiful, she’d know that hooking up with you would be fairly easy and
that it’d be the perfect way to get what she wants.”

“Which is what?”

“You bought something of value recently. What was it?”

“I buy a lot of things. Can you be a little more specific?”

“There was a withdrawal from one of your accounts a few
weeks ago. Fifty thousand dollars. Why would you need that much cash? What was
it for?”

“Jesus, Kendon, I guess cell phone numbers aren’t the only
unauthorized thing you’re good at getting. You snooped into my bank records?”

“Get over yourself. What was it?”

“Nothing. Just a wedding present for Virginia. But it sure
as hell isn’t important enough to break into my apartment for or,” he glanced
at the closed door from the bathroom to the bedroom, “anything.”

“You let me be the judge of that. I need to know every
detail. But most importantly, I need to know where it is now. And another
thing, as soon as we hang up, take a picture of your friend there with your
cell phone, preferably without making a big deal of it. Then email it to me.”

* * * * *

After a few minutes, Brendan came out from the bathroom,
cell phone in hand, at the last minute holding it out in front of him. Catching
her by surprise, he took a picture with it.

Sophia blinked, bringing her hand up too late to block her
face. “What was that for?”

“Nothing.” He fiddled with his phone, and then slid it into
the pocket of the shorts that he, to her disappointment, had put on. If she had
her way, they’d just stay naked the whole time. “You just looked cute curled up
under the covers is all.”

“Did somebody call?”

“One of my sisters. So you want to walk into town today?”

Not really. She’d really rather stay in bed with him. She
stretched. How pathetic was that?

“Maybe later?” she responded.

“What do you want to do now?”

“What do you usually do in the morning when you bring a girl
here?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never brought a girl here.”

“You’re kidding me.”

He kissed her lightly. “No, I’m not.” He pushed her to lay
back on the pillows and sat on the bed next to her. “But I’ll tell you what I’d
like to do with the girl I did bring here.”

“What?”

“Just let me get these shorts off if we’re not going to walk
into town and I’ll tell you.”

A few hours later, they did manage to make it into town, an
open-air bazaar of sorts lining the street with all manner of colorful wares
for sale. From one of the displays, Sophia picked up a pair of black
sunglasses, big and round and Jackie-O style. Just how she liked them. She
slipped them on.

“You like those?”

It was a young man’s voice. He sounded no more than her age.
She took the sunglasses off and hung them on the rack. “No.”

Only then did she take a good look at the man behind the
makeshift counter. She would have recognized him, despite the goatee and the
cheeks and whatever he’d done to his hair. Even the remarkable change in
carriage that Arthur was perfect at would not have fooled her. If she hadn’t
been so wrapped up in her fantasy of being Brendan Beckett’s girlfriend.

“What are you doing here?” she asked coldly.

“Give you a good price, man,” Arthur said loudly, handing
her the glasses back. “They look good on you.”

Only when she slipped them on again did he answer,
presumably because no one was standing nearby at that particular moment. His
voice was the same, but quieter. “I’m here to see that you remember what you’re
here for.”

She dug into her purse for some bills. “It’s going fine.”

“Not the honeymoon part. Spare me the details on that.
Midnight swims and all.” She was handing him three one-dollar bills with
suddenly shaking hands. He took them.

“Can’t you just leave me alone? Just for a few days?”

“We don’t have a few days, Sophia. I can’t seem to get that
fact through to you.” He turned around abruptly and slid the bills into a cash
box.

“Nice. I like them.” Brendan slid his arms around her waist.

“Yeah. Me too. And they were cheap.”

He laughed. “Watch out. You get what you pay for.”

“Don’t I know it. Come on. I’m hungry.” She took his hand
from around her waist and led him away.

“No glasses for you, mister?” Arthur called after them.

Brendan looked back over his shoulder. “No thanks. I got all
I need.”

Sitting out at an open-air table in a cafe a few minutes
later, looking out at the water, a cruise ship within sight, Sophia tried to
muster up some of her training. “So, I was thinking, Brendan. You have so much
stuff. How do you even go about deciding what to buy and not buy? Does somebody
just do that for you? A personal shopper or something?”

“Why? Are you volunteering?”

“No. I hate to shop.” Why the hell was she giving honest
answers again? “But if I did, what would I have bought for you in the last few
weeks?”

His face tightened imperceptibly. Imperceptible to most
people. She was good at reading faces. Another gift from Arthur and his early
rigorous training.

“I don’t know. A wedding present for my sister, maybe. Why
were
you at the wedding?”

She could see the suspicion in his eyes. Had she been too
clunky about all this? Was she losing her perspective?

She fiddled with the salt shaker. “I was there to meet you.”
Sometimes, only the truth would do. Or part of it anyway. Again, another of
Arthur’s life lessons.

“Why would you want to go to all the trouble to do that?”

“Can’t you guess?”

“No, Sophia. I can’t.”

Oh, that hard note in his voice was oh so not good. She had
never heard it. Not even when she was sitting on his stomach with a gun to his
head. She was going to blow this. She really was.

“I had a crush on you.”

After a moment, he said, “I’ve never even met you before.”

“Well, I’ve met you. You just didn’t know it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Four Seasons. San Francisco. Three and a half weeks
ago. You were in the hallway with this total jerk who was abusing some maid.”

“What?”

“That’s how I knew you spoke Spanish.”

“You weren’t there. I would have seen you.”

“I was looking through the peep hole.” Sticking as close to
the truth as possible when you were really lying through your teeth was always
a good idea. “From my own room.” Not too close to the truth, though. “I heard a
ruckus, as they say, through the door. It was so unusual for a hotel of that
caliber that I couldn’t resist being a busybody. I saw what happened.”

“What happened?” he said cautiously.

She didn’t know if it was a test or if it was so
inconsequential to him he really didn’t remember. “You were really sweet to
this Hispanic maid, who wasn’t even pretty or anything, and you practically
beat up the asshole who was rude to her.”

“You saw that?”

“Yep. And the guy said your name. It made me want to meet
you.”

“So? We were at the same hotel. Why didn’t you?”

“My Dad was still around then.”

“Oh.”

“And then I read about your sister’s wedding and, I admit
it, I crashed just to meet you. But I’m not a stalker or anything,” she added
hurriedly.

The waitress finally came to the table. Sophia ordered a
lemonade and a burger. Brendan ordered a beer. Just a beer.

“You’re not hungry?”

Without answering, he downed the beer handily when the
waitress brought it and caught her attention to get another. He seemed to be
working up to something. She gazed out at the cruise ship, too big apparently
to dock right in the harbor. It was some ways off. They must shuttle people to
and from it.

“Look, Sophia,” he finally said. “I like you. A lot.”

She smiled.

“But you have to admit you’re acting kind of weird. And I’ve
had some things happen to me recently—”

“Like what?”

“Somebody broke into my apartment.”

She laughed. There was no other way to play this. “You’re
accusing me of breaking into your apartment? I wanted to meet you, but not that
bad.”

He said nothing.

“What did they take?” she prompted.

“Nothing, as far as I can tell.”

“Wouldn’t a stalker at least take a pair of underwear or
something?”

“When you say it like that, it does sound kind of
ridiculous.” He grinned, shaking his head, and reached for her hand. “Don’t
mind me. I’m just being paranoid, or maybe listening to somebody who is. Forget
it.” He brought her hand to his lips. “I really am not myself with you, Miss
Sophia Whoever. I’m usually a very relaxed, very fun guy.”

“And I bet you didn’t know the last names of half the girls
you’ve ever slept with.”

“Ouch.”

She laid her hand along his chin to soften the comment and
he turned his head to kiss her palm. “Well, I promise you one thing. I’m going
to know yours.”

“Why is that so important?” she whispered.

“I don’t know, Miss Mysterious. Maybe because you’re the
first girl I’ve met in a long time who I could envision wanting to change it
one day.”

His blue eyes were brilliant.

She dropped her hand. “Now that’s a good line.”

“Yeah. Too bad it’s not a line.”

She took a deep breath. Who was conning who here?

But when he called for the check, she didn’t object.

“You can take your burger to go,” he said, not explaining
his sudden urgency. He didn’t have to. She felt it too.

Chapter Six

There was enough twilight to see both Sophia and the
aquamarine waves of the ocean stretching beyond the open balcony door of his
bedroom. But he was only interested in looking at one of them. God, she was
beautiful with her hair piled up on her head, leaving the rest of her free for
him to see and touch. He traced the delicate bones of her shoulders and upper
back and the inward curve of her waist as she sat on his lap, facing away, his
cock buried deep within her.

The usual restlessness he felt after long bouts of sex was
somehow not there. He was in the only place in the world he wanted to be right
now.

His hands gripped her hips as she lifted a little, coming up
on her knees and gently swaying back against him. Kissing her neck, he let her
set the pace as her arms stretched up to cradle his head from behind, running
her fingers through his hair.

The lyrics of that old Elton John song drifted through his
mind and, as was often the way, he began to sing them, low and soft, without
really meaning to. Music was just like that to him. It was like some kind of
other dimension that was just always with him, always speaking to him, whether
he let it into this dimension or not.

But sometimes he did. Sometimes he couldn’t help it.

“Oh, you make me mellow, oh you make me mellow, wrecking the
sheets real fine, heaven knows what you sent me, Lord, but God this is a mellow
time…”

He could hear the piano in his head, running his lips
against the curve of her neck even as he half-mumbled, half-sung the words. She
tightened her grip on his hair and turned her face to kiss him lightly, still
moving against him.

“You have such a beautiful voice,” she murmured.

He sucked her tongue and then pulled back to tease, “I know
it’s cheesy, but I can’t help bursting into song when you’re fucking me.”

She smiled. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

Turning back to face away from him again, she braced her
palms on his outstretched legs and leaned forward, coming harder into the
rhythm. He kissed her lower back and brought his hands to her ass as she moved.

“I can’t think of any other girls when I’m with you. I feel
like there were no other girls,” he murmured.

She laughed, low, sexy, glancing back at him. “Oh, you are
dangerous, Brendan Beckett.”

He smiled. “What?”

“Your lines keep getting better and better the more times I
sleep with you. Is that how you do it?”

The funny thing was it wasn’t. In fact, once he fucked a
girl he rarely used any lines with her. And never one that would make her think
she was somehow special. Hell no. The whole point was to remind her that she
wasn’t.

Not that he was a prick about it or anything. He didn’t want
to hurt a girl’s feelings. He wanted to please her, to pleasure her, to amuse
her. Basically, he wanted to have fun with any girl he fucked and he wanted her
to have fun.

But never to think she was special. That just would lead to
more misunderstanding when he was done having his fun.

So why the fuck was he implying he wanted to change Sophia’s
last name—Christ, had he actually said that?—or that she was the only girl for
him, as they say?

Maybe because right about now, he felt as if it was true?

She came down on his cock hard, still watching him over her
shoulder, and he groaned.

“Is it, Brendan?”

“Is it what?”

“Is that how you charm girls into falling in love with you?”
she asked, all breathy as she just sat on him, not moving again, but turning
her head away so he could no longer see the expression on her face. No longer
see if she was kidding, if she ever had been.

He reached his arms around to her tits, taking them in his
hands, feeling the weight of them, plucking at the hard nubs. Then it was her
groaning.

“No,” he said simply, not sure what he meant by that.

His attentions prompted her to move again, sliding up and
down on his throbbing cock, her juices more than lubricating the way for the
movement. Feeling the heft of her tits, he knew they were just perfect for
tit-fucking, as the crude term for it was. He remembered that she had told him
of how men had grabbed her and pawed her, and wondered now whether she had
meant in that way. The idea somehow sickened him. He caressed her gently. He
would never do anything she wouldn’t want. Someday, when she was more
experienced, more used to sex and its infinite permutations, she might want
that with him.

And God, who the fuck wouldn’t want it with her? With these?
He caressed her.

But he wouldn’t rush her. They had all the time in the
world.

His hands came back to her hips. Right now, though, mellow
or not, he wanted to come.

So he took over and set the pace.

The sound of the ocean through the open door wall called to
him. He really wanted to take a midnight swim with Sophia like they had the
night before. Although by now it might’ve actually been a five a.m. or so swim.
He’d lost track of time. But he really had to let the girl get some rest. He’d
been at her nonstop since they’d come home from town.

God, he felt good, like he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Brendan heard his cell phone ring from the dresser. He
should just shut the fucking thing off. Sophia was sleeping peacefully beside
him, the faint pre-dawn light filtering in. He got out of bed, though, and
grabbed it to stop the sound from waking her up.

Taking it out into the hall, he answered in a low voice,
seeing from the caller ID who it was. “Hey.”

He wished he had never started with Kendon on this whole
thing. But now that he had…

The guy didn’t have much small talk, but given the time of
night, or morning rather, Brendan appreciated that he got right to the point.
“I ran the picture you sent me through Interpol’s database.”

Brendan went downstairs, still speaking quietly. “Which you
have access to how?”

Ignoring the question, Kendon continued. “Your girlfriend
doesn’t have a record.”

He opened the door wall in the living room to step outside,
but halted. “She doesn’t?” He realized he had more than half believed what
Kendon had suspected and this news came as a huge relief to him. “She doesn’t.
Good. Okay. So that’s the end of it then.”

“I’m afraid not. She doesn’t have a record, but she sure as
hell has a file. That just means she’s too good to get caught at what she
does.”

Brendan stepped outside, closing the glass behind him. “And
what’s that?”

“Con guys. Specifically, rich guys. She has a number of
aliases, Mary Patterson, Alison Donaldson, Victoria Vickery. No Sophia anything
that we know of, though. Works with a guy, but there’s even less information on
him.”

Brendan said nothing, the coldness he was feeling at this
news arctic enough to counteract the warm tropical morning breeze.

“Beckett? You there?”

“Yeah. So what now?”

“Well, we can’t really tie her to the break-in definitively
enough to hold her. And crashing a wedding isn’t exactly illegal. What we need
to do is get her to tip her hand.”

Brendan thought of the sleeping girl upstairs. “Fine. How do
we do that?” Although he had a few ideas himself.

Throttling her being only one of them.

* * * * *

“You incompetent moron.”

Arthur shut the door of his flee-bag hotel room,
unfortunately only after his unwelcome visitor stepped inside. “Nice to see you
too, Vinita.”

“You call me that one more time, and I’ll sneak up on you
someday real soon and slit your throat.”

“Although it’s always a pleasure, to what do I owe this
particular visit?” He dropped wearily into the one armchair in the corner, the
bed being the only other seating place in the room.

She stood.

“To your incompetence, as I said at the beginning of this
conversation. I take it you have nothing to give me.”

“We’re still working on it.”

“No, you’re not. That girl of yours has been irreparably
clumsy.”

“If she has, it’s only because you didn’t let me do it our
way. If you force the timing, there are risks. People get suspicious.”

“Yes, well, I take it an inquiry to Interpol by a private
investigator hired by Beckett is one of those risks.”

Arthur felt a frisson of apprehension. He knew Beckett had
hired a private detective. He just didn’t know he suspected Sophia enough to
link the two. “How the hell does a private eye have access to Interpol files?”

“That’s not really your concern, is it? I trust your girl—“

“You can say her name.”

That shut Vinita up.

“And no, Sophia doesn’t know about your involvement in
this.”

“Good. Well, I suggest that you pull her out and find some
other way of getting this.”

“I’ll pull her out all right, especially if she’s been compromised.”

“It may be too late already.”

“You say that so calmly. You really don’t care, do you?”

“I think I’ve demonstrated that pretty effectively.”

“Fine. Once I’ve gotten Sophia, I’ll try to figure out
another way to get it.”

“You better.”

Sometimes, he wished she’d just say the fucking “or else”
already.

* * * * *

Brendan was gone when she woke up. His note said only that
he had business in town and would be back later. She didn’t know what time that
would be, but it gave her a free opportunity to search the place that she
should not pass on.

She did. Pass on it, that is.

Not questioning why, she simply changed into a suit and
headed out to the sand. When she put sunscreen on this time, she remembered
Brendan’s application the first day she had gotten here. That had been much
more fun.

Flopping back on the towel, she dove into the romance she
had bought in the airport upon arrival. At the time she told herself that it
would be good cover, but what the hell…she knew she just wanted to read it.

It was one happily-ever-after and two swims later that
Brendan finally got home.

Home. It had come into her head so naturally. She smiled and
waved as he came out on the balcony.

“Do you like boats?” he called down.

“Sure.”

“I want to take you out on our boat today.”

She stood up, gathering her things around and met him as he
was coming downstairs.

“You keep a boat here?” She leaned up to kiss him and he
turned his head at the last minute.

“Not always here. When I knew we were coming to the Caymans,
I contacted the captain and asked him to get it here. I thought it might be fun
for us to go out on it. Luckily, it wasn’t too far at the time. It’s here now,
docked in the harbor. So how about it? Would you like to go out today?”

Sophia nodded. “Sure. What is it? A sailboat?”

“Not exactly. Bring a few things, okay? Maybe we’ll stay on
board overnight.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll go down and start getting it ready. Cab it down when
you can and meet me at the docks.”

He was gone so swiftly, she didn’t have time to question
that. By the time she packed a few things, called a cab and made it to the
harbor, it was late afternoon.

Brendan was talking to the harbor master only a few feet
away when Sophia felt a hand on her arm just as she slammed the cab door shut
and it sped away. Turning swiftly, she was stunned to see Arthur at her elbow,
not even donning a disguise of any kind. “What are you doing here?”

“Come on. We have to get out of here.”

Brendan was glancing their way now.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“He knows.”

Sophia’s heart fell. Brendan turned away just then. “He
doesn’t. He’s taking me out on his boat. I think I can find out what we—”

“It’s over, Sophia. Someone’s accessed your file at
Interpol. The investigator Beckett hired to look into the break in.”

She never questioned how Arthur knew certain things. Never.
It was a given. But she did now. “Who told you that? I don’t believe you.”

“This is a very dangerous conversation to be having out here
right now.”

“Sophia? Everything okay?” Brendan came over and Arthur
didn’t even melt away. This must be serious. Brendan gave him a cold stare.
“Friend of yours?”

“Are you coming?” Arthur prodded, not even bothering to
acknowledge Brendan.

“No.”

Arthur nodded and then he was gone.

“Who was that guy?”

“Just somebody I, ah, used to work for.”

“What was he doing here?”

“Can we just go?”

Brendan nodded, leading her down the dock, rows and rows of
sleek motor boats and sail boats along each quay. When she saw the one they
were heading to, she laughed. “Just a little boat, eh?”

She knew something about boats in her line of work. Rich
guys often had one. This one was a beauty. Ninety feet or so long, she figured,
it was a yacht, not a boat. Gleaming white, there were at least three levels to
it that she could see, the windows tinted black for privacy.

Brendan gestured for her to precede him up the stairs.

“How fast can it go?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Twenty-eight knots.”

A gray-haired middle-aged man, fit but weathered, came out
to greet them on deck.

“Sophia, this is Scott Michaels. Scott captains The Ann for
us.”

She shook the captain’s hand. She hadn’t noticed the name of
the yacht. “The Ann?”

“Named for Mr. Beckett’s mother,” the captain offered.

Through the door into the helm, Sophia could see three
crewmen, dressed like Captain Michaels in khakis and a white polo, busying
themselves with controls that resembled a spaceship’s.

“Would you like to show Miss Sophia around?” the captain
asked Brendan.

“No thanks. Not now. We’ll just go below.”

“Certainly. A word about the arrangements when you get a
moment.”

“Sure. I’ll just show her the cabin and pop right back.”