Burned by Natasha Deen

frowned and peered at the mob of kids clustered in the center. “Go right. I’ll go left. He’s got to be here.”
    I did as instructed, walking the rectangular space and eyeing every kid who sat in a leather chair or lounged by the wall. A collective gasp caught my attention. I turned, curious to see what held their focus, and moved toward them.
    The crowd rippled and parted, creating a space. A girl with porcelain skin and delicate features moved from the center of the circle to its exit. Taking advantage of the gap, I deked past her into the embrace of the crowd and searched to see what had everyone’s interest.
    I didn’t have to look long.
    Jace.
    He sat at a table. The flat light streaming from the windows shouldn’t have had the strength to reach his form, let alone edge his frame. Yet there he sat, a dark god framed in silver, his gaze focused on an ornate chessboard.
    From the tight posture of his opponent, the hunch of his shoulders, I guessed Jace was winning the game.
    Figured.
    Slowly Jace lifted his gaze. Dark eyes the color of wild mustangs, framed by long, thick black lashes. For a long—too-long—moment we stared at each other.
    Jace, looking at me.
    Into me.
    Through me.
    Just as slowly, he turned his focus back to the chessboard, effectively dismissing me in the deliberate movement.
    Jerk.
    “How do you want to play this?” I asked Raven as she came up beside me.
    She grinned. “Bond him.”
    I was hoping for something more Ravenish—like smashing his head against the table or hanging him from a tall building by his toes. Blinking, I said, “Bond?”
    “James Bond.” She lifted her shoulder. “Bond-girl him.”
    “You think that’ll work?”
    “He’s a guy, isn’t he?”
    Too much of one for my taste. “Yeah, I guess.” I tried to keep my voice neutral.
    “You go left, I’ll go right. Angel and devil. Got it?”
    I frowned. “Like good girl, bad girl?”
    She gave a sultry laugh. “More like bad Bond girl”—she jabbed her thumb in my direction—“and badder Bond girl.” She jerked both thumbs at herself.
    I’d never been bad in my life.
    Raven turned and moved through the crowd, flashing a smile at random guys, then grinning with satisfaction as they gaped at her.
    I pivoted on my heel and hoped I could pull off bad—or at least do a satisfactory job of “naughty.” C’mon, I told myself. I used to date, to flirt. There was a time I’d worn tight jeans and heels.
    For Amanda and my family, I’d channel that girl, do what I needed, take the heat of Jace and suffer the burns sure to come.
    I got to him at the same time as Raven.
    She put her hand on his right shoulder.
    I followed her lead and put mine on his left. The feel of him beneath my fingers zapped me with awareness, and the warmth of him made my body temperature rise.
    If he cared, if he noticed, he didn’t show it. No happiness. No contempt. His indifference was as hard as the muscles under my hand.
    Raven bent close to his ear.
    Oh man.
    The wood and spice of his cologne was already unhinging me. Now she wanted me to get closer?
    I was going to lose my mind. Not enough to forget about justice for my family or Amanda, but enough for me to go from Bond girl smart to Valley girl stupid. He wasn’t a guy who’d respond to my flipping my hair and giggling.
    Too bad.
    That I remembered how to do.
    Raven kept whispering in his ear, and my brain spun as it tried to come up with a plan.
    Deciding to use the too-tight clothes to my advantage, I twisted to the side, popped a button, then faced forward and gave his opponent the brightest smile I could manage.
    The kid stared, jerked back and blinked. Then he looked over his shoulder—probably checking to see it was really him I was aiming my pearly whites at.
    I flipped my hair.
    His eyes widened.
    Under my hand, Jace remained motionless.
    I leaned forward as though inspecting the board.
    Every vertebra in the kid’s neck popped as he strained to see down my