enough.
Of course, even a kiss might be wishful thinking. Like her or not, he still hadn't tried anything. So what are you going to do about it?
No brilliant plan stepped forward, and for the first time in her life Paris wished she'd paid more attention to Rachel's scripted, rehearsed and tested technique. She'd just have to wing it. Or chicken out entirely.
"Are you going to tell Brandon ?" he asked.
She smiled at him, still teasing the end of the straw between her lips in a manner she hoped emphasized how kissable she was. "You'll be out of a gig if I do."
* * *
Her response was light and teasing. But even so, Devin worried she had realized what his questions were getting at. If a number of people already knew Alexander's deep, dark secret, she'd have little motivation to pay him to keep his mouth shut.
His father's voice lectured in his head. So what if she's figured it out? She'll realize when you ask her for the cash.
True enough. But he didn't want to demand the money just yet. He wanted to get to know her, to spend time with her. Alone. Preferably undressed. From the way she looked at him, he knew she wanted to spend that type of quality time with him, too.
If he could just keep the desire burning in her eyes, maybe he could get the money and still manage to hold on to the girl.
He bit back a curse. Who was he fooling? She wasn't interested in him. Paris wanted Montgomery Alexander. She wanted to be swept away by a suave, sophisticated man who said all the right things.
Devin O'Malley was not that man. But he wanted her, wanted her bad. Even if it meant playing a part. And maybe, just maybe, she'd fall a little bit for the man behind the mask.
Oh, Devie-boy. Falling for a mark. Didn't I teach you better?
"Shut up," he whispered.
"What?" She looked confused. He hoped she hadn't heard him.
"I said we should go up."
She cocked an eyebrow. "We should?"
"I meant that I should walk you to your room."
"Oh." She studied her short manicured nails. Was she disappointed he hadn't suggested more?
"And then you'll invite me in for a nightcap." There. That was a very Montgomery Alexander thing to say.
"Pretty confident, aren't you?" she asked, her breathless voice reassuring him that he didn't have to worry about being invited in for the evening.
"That we'll have a nightcap together? Yes."
"Why, Mr. Alexander, are you trying to get me drunk?"
"I think you already are."
She put up a good show of being offended. "Moi? No, no, no. I'm just a little tipsy." She leaned forward, crooking her finger to draw him nearer. "If I were drunk, then I'd do what I've been thinking about all evening."
Devin's heart skipped a beat. "Yeah? What's that?"
A mischievous smile lit up her eyes, and he wondered what he was in for. In a quick movement, Paris slid out of the booth, and joined him on his side of the table. She sat close, her hip and thigh soft and feminine against him. Devin steeled himself against an instinctive, physical reaction. She was so close, so sweet. He wanted her so naked, so willing.
"What have you been wanting to do?" he asked, amazed and relieved that he was able to form words despite the effect of her proximity on him.
Her lips brushed his ear, her scent more intoxicating than their drink. "Can't you guess?"
"Tell me," he whispered, even as he struggled to keep from grabbing her shoulders and claiming her mouth with his.
Her tongue flicked across the top of his ear. He grabbed the edge of the table and squeezed, willing himself to stay sane.
"I want you to tell me something first," she whispered.
"Vixen," he teased.
She eased forward so he could see more of her face, more of her eyes, dark with passion. Her finger dipped into the drink, and she moved it to her mouth, parting her lips, sucking the liquid from her own finger. Then she dragged her finger casually over her full lower lip, her eyes never leaving his face. Teasing eyes and tempting lips. He wanted to lose himself in those lips.
Of course, even a kiss might be wishful thinking. Like her or not, he still hadn't tried anything. So what are you going to do about it?
No brilliant plan stepped forward, and for the first time in her life Paris wished she'd paid more attention to Rachel's scripted, rehearsed and tested technique. She'd just have to wing it. Or chicken out entirely.
"Are you going to tell Brandon ?" he asked.
She smiled at him, still teasing the end of the straw between her lips in a manner she hoped emphasized how kissable she was. "You'll be out of a gig if I do."
* * *
Her response was light and teasing. But even so, Devin worried she had realized what his questions were getting at. If a number of people already knew Alexander's deep, dark secret, she'd have little motivation to pay him to keep his mouth shut.
His father's voice lectured in his head. So what if she's figured it out? She'll realize when you ask her for the cash.
True enough. But he didn't want to demand the money just yet. He wanted to get to know her, to spend time with her. Alone. Preferably undressed. From the way she looked at him, he knew she wanted to spend that type of quality time with him, too.
If he could just keep the desire burning in her eyes, maybe he could get the money and still manage to hold on to the girl.
He bit back a curse. Who was he fooling? She wasn't interested in him. Paris wanted Montgomery Alexander. She wanted to be swept away by a suave, sophisticated man who said all the right things.
Devin O'Malley was not that man. But he wanted her, wanted her bad. Even if it meant playing a part. And maybe, just maybe, she'd fall a little bit for the man behind the mask.
Oh, Devie-boy. Falling for a mark. Didn't I teach you better?
"Shut up," he whispered.
"What?" She looked confused. He hoped she hadn't heard him.
"I said we should go up."
She cocked an eyebrow. "We should?"
"I meant that I should walk you to your room."
"Oh." She studied her short manicured nails. Was she disappointed he hadn't suggested more?
"And then you'll invite me in for a nightcap." There. That was a very Montgomery Alexander thing to say.
"Pretty confident, aren't you?" she asked, her breathless voice reassuring him that he didn't have to worry about being invited in for the evening.
"That we'll have a nightcap together? Yes."
"Why, Mr. Alexander, are you trying to get me drunk?"
"I think you already are."
She put up a good show of being offended. "Moi? No, no, no. I'm just a little tipsy." She leaned forward, crooking her finger to draw him nearer. "If I were drunk, then I'd do what I've been thinking about all evening."
Devin's heart skipped a beat. "Yeah? What's that?"
A mischievous smile lit up her eyes, and he wondered what he was in for. In a quick movement, Paris slid out of the booth, and joined him on his side of the table. She sat close, her hip and thigh soft and feminine against him. Devin steeled himself against an instinctive, physical reaction. She was so close, so sweet. He wanted her so naked, so willing.
"What have you been wanting to do?" he asked, amazed and relieved that he was able to form words despite the effect of her proximity on him.
Her lips brushed his ear, her scent more intoxicating than their drink. "Can't you guess?"
"Tell me," he whispered, even as he struggled to keep from grabbing her shoulders and claiming her mouth with his.
Her tongue flicked across the top of his ear. He grabbed the edge of the table and squeezed, willing himself to stay sane.
"I want you to tell me something first," she whispered.
"Vixen," he teased.
She eased forward so he could see more of her face, more of her eyes, dark with passion. Her finger dipped into the drink, and she moved it to her mouth, parting her lips, sucking the liquid from her own finger. Then she dragged her finger casually over her full lower lip, her eyes never leaving his face. Teasing eyes and tempting lips. He wanted to lose himself in those lips.
Similar Books
