Fallen Angels: Beguiled\Wanton\Uncovered (29 page)

She felt staggered by how quickly things had progressed, and how incredibly easy it seemed. “This is like a dream.”
More like a nightmare. Was this how Hannah had gotten sucked in, so fast she didn't have time to think?

“Celia?” He tipped up her chin and his eyes were direct, a vague warning shining through the pale blue. “Don't disappoint me now.”

A fine trembling had invaded her body. Slowly she stood, moving away from his touch. “I'll be there. And thank you. Thank you so much.”

“It's my pleasure.”

As she walked away, she thought of how she could warn Alec, how she could let him know what had transpired. But he wasn't even looking at her. He was slumped in the booth, head back, eyes closed, the waitress still on his lap, chewing on his damn neck. Celia hoped she hit an artery. When she saw Alec's hand go to the woman's rump again, she set her teeth and marched on outside, quickly summoning a cab.

It didn't matter that Alec claimed it was a game. She needed him now, and he was playing with another woman. The jealousy was something she'd never experienced before, a devouring evil inside her, making her breath come fast and her heart thump too hard. It staggered her, overriding the euphoria of all she'd accomplished tonight, the headway she'd made.

Rather than planning on how to handle the rest of the evening, she wanted to wreak havoc, to beat on Alec and make him promise her he'd…The thought struck her like a smack to the head, nearly knocking her off her high heels. Dear God.

She was in love with Alec Sharpe.

Slumping back in the cab seat, she groaned and covered her face with her hands. Of all the incredible things to happen. And she had the awful suspicion she'd actually fallen for the tough guy some time ago—like when she'd very first met him. The sight of him excited her. The smell of him excited her. The way he talked and walked and his roughness mixed with his protective instincts…

Well hell. It didn't get much worse than this.

 

A
LEC SAT IN THE DARK
,
just waiting. Every muscle in his body felt tight, almost quivering, and he thought he might explode at any moment if…

The lock on the door clicked and slowly opened. He didn't move except for the narrowing of his eyes. Every nerve was on alert, ready, almost anxious for any confrontation that would allow him to let off a little steam. And then he recognized her scent; he knew Celia, body and soul, on an elemental level that gripped him gut-deep. He could have picked her out of a hundred women just by the touch of her skin or her arousing fragrance, not store-bought but a part of the woman.
His woman.

The fact that it was Celia entering, rather than an intruder, was almost better. It certainly allowed some of his panic to recede, making the way clear for his rage. He waited for the door to close so no one would hear the argument about to erupt. When she flipped on a light switch and turned to see him, she gasped, then immediately went on the defensive.

Clutching the front of her dress over her heart with a fist, she said, “Alec! You scared me half to death! What are you doing sneaking in here?”

He came slowly, angrily to his feet. Gaze pinning her, he stalked forward. There was very little talking he planned to do until a few of his questions were answered. “Where the hell have you been?”

He didn't recognize his own voice, but he'd been through twenty kinds of hell in the past hour and he didn't like feeling that much, not when he'd spent a good part of life freezing out deeper emotions and feelings. Yet she consistently, repeatedly,
deliberately
made him feel things.

He didn't touch her, merely loomed over her, feeling every bit as much a demon as he'd often been accused of being.

She glared at him. “If you hadn't been playing sucky-face with that scrawny waitress, I'd have been able to get your attention when I left.”

“I saw you leave, damn it.” His teeth ached from clenching them so tightly; did she honestly think he hadn't seen every little move she'd made?

He reached out and slowly crowded her back against the wall. She didn't look intimidated, she just looked mad. Good, misery loved company. “Why the hell didn't you wait outside for me?”

“Because I couldn't.” Her little nose went into the air. “I had to buy a dress for a party tonight.”

A red haze covered his vision. “Forget it.”

She suddenly gasped. “You're drunk!”

“Not even close.” Her breasts brushed his chest and his stomach tightened.

“I can smell the alcohol on your breath, Alec.”

“One glass of whiskey. And believe me, it'd take more than that, so stop trying to turn the tide. You've got some explaining to do, lady, and I'm about clean out of patience.”

She searched his face, then suddenly punched his chest. “You have lipstick on your
ear,
damn it! And you smell like a French whore.”

What that had to do with anything he couldn't imagine. “She was all over me, Celia. Until I can change clothes, we'll both have to put up with it.”

“Wrong. I don't have to put up with anything.” She glanced at the clock beside the bed and muttered, “I've only got a half an hour to get changed and get to the party. Hopefully it's not too far away.”

Propping both hands beside her head, imprisoning her with his body, he fought to maintain his control. “You're not going to any damn party, baby.”

“Oh yes I am! This is the best opportunity in the world to find Hannah. I have to go.”

“No.”

She drew herself up. “I don't have time for this, Alec.” Then just as quickly she asked with a sneer, “Did you enjoy yourself at the bar?”

He wrapped one large hand around her skull to hold her still, then leaned forward until their noses touched. “With Jacobs leering at you?” The rage bubbled up again and he squeezed his eyes shut. “You don't have any idea how damn hard that was for me, do you?”

“You looked plenty distracted to me.”

“Which was the point, damn it!”

She blinked at his raised tone. “You really didn't enjoy kissing her?”

Shoving himself away from the wall with a burst of energy, he paced, then immediately stalked back. He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his fly. “That's reserved for you, lady.” She started to pull away but he wouldn't let her. A small groan escaped him. “A sheik's harem wouldn't do it for me now, not when I'm wanting you.”

Her fingers curled, caressing him. In a whisper, she asked, “Do you mean that, Alec?”

Staring at her hard, he said, “I've told you all along it's you. If I only wanted to get laid, I damn sure could have done that long before tonight, and with a hell of a lot less trouble than you give me.”

Her breath came a little faster and she nervously licked her lips.

Alec groaned, all his anger transferring into red-hot need. He wanted to brand her, put his mark on her for all the world to see. He wanted her acceptance and understanding.

To block the assault of emotions he didn't want to deal with, he kissed her, long and hard and with so much possession and passion she all but forgot about the damn party.

But of course, she couldn't.

In trembling tones, she said, “I want you, too, Alec, I really do.”

He leaned back to look at her, his own body shaking.

“But I have to do this. Please.” Her eyes pleaded with him and he turned away, but she caught him by the waistband of his jeans and held on. It was either give in to her, or drag her in his wake. “Alec,
please?
”

He had to think, but there really wasn't time. She'd said she had only a half hour. Still without looking at her, not willing to test his control that far, he said, “Tell me everything. Hurry.”

She did, and Alec had to agree that the possibilities were endless. Getting into the mind-set of the chase helped to clear his head of the lust. But not completely.

“He even sent me to this shady little boutique where a woman named Shirley dressed me like a damned Thanksgiving turkey, from my earrings down to the sandals I'll wear. I had the feeling this was some sort of arrangement they had, that a lot of girls are paraded through that boutique and outfitted
appropriately.
” In a lower voice, she confided, “Shirley looks like an Alcatraz escapee. Really gave me the willies.”

He chewed the side of his mouth, thinking it all through logically before finally accepting that he had little choice in letting her go.

“All right.” He turned to glare at her, wanting no misunderstandings. “My instincts as a man tell me to say no way, to tie you to the damn bed and keep you there if necessary. But,” he added when she started to object, “as an agent, I know this could be our only opening.”

She looked as though she had mixed feelings about his capitulation. “So you agree?”

“Yeah. But I'm going, too. No, don't panic. I'll be outside, but close. If you need me, just hit the button on your phone. Any call at all and I'm coming in, babe, so be careful.”

She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight. “I hate to admit it, but I'm glad to know you'll be there.”

Holding her so close was like a tonic, both soothing him and setting his blood to pumping. He pressed his nose to her neck and breathed deeply. “Having second thoughts?” She was on tiptoe and he slipped his hands beneath her skirt to fill his palms with her soft bottom. He needed something to tide him over, and touching her was a small consolation.

She groaned, but shook her head. “No, I'm doing this, Alec, I have to. But I feel better about the whole thing, knowing I won't be alone.”

Two seconds more of her willing acceptance and he'd crumble. That would sure as hell shoot the night, at the same time demolishing the progress he'd made. Knowing that helped him do the right thing. He pried her arms loose and gently sent her into the bathroom with a firm swat on her perfect fanny. He had a bad feeling about all this, not a gut instinct, which he wouldn't have dared ignore, but just an unsettled feeling in his chest, like a hard fist squeezed around his heart. He didn't like it. “Go get dressed, Celia, before I change my mind. To keep any onlookers from getting suspicious, I'm going out to wait in my car. After the cab picks you up, I'll follow along, but you won't see me, okay?”

“What if Jacobs has guards?”

“They'll never know I'm there.”

“You're that good?”

He smiled and deliberately dropped his voice to a low, seductive tone. “I promise to be the best you ever had.” He left before she could get her mouth closed or find a suitable comeback. Hopefully he'd have a chance to prove that taunt, and soon.

Most of the world considered him a mean son of a bitch, dangerously lethal, invulnerable, hard-edged. But Celia had never backed down from him. At first her spunk and cursed doggedness, along with her sweet good looks, had merely intrigued him. But now she'd managed to crawl under his skin and he had a feeling her unsettling effect wasn't going to go away any time soon. For a while there, he'd thought making love to her would help, would wash her out of his system so he could start thinking rationally again, with his brains rather than his libido.

Now, he wasn't so sure.

He hoped she came to reason soon, because he really didn't think he could take much more.

H
ER FACE HURT
from smiling, her brain hurt from concentrating so hard on appearing insipid, and every muscle in her body ached from the need to hide herself away. In a house this size, it should have been easy. But not once since she'd entered had she been given a private moment. She felt like a piece of raw meat displayed in the market window.

The brownstone structure was heavily guarded, surrounded by a tall, black, wrought-iron fence complete with automatic locking driveway gate and intercoms at every entrance. Guards stood at several windows, both inside and out. Even if she'd wanted to leave, it would have been impossible.

The outfit Shirley had insisted was perfect hadn't seemed nearly so skimpy in the shop when she'd hurriedly accepted it, as it did now with a largely male audience ogling her every move. The black pantsuit had a loose, low-cut crop top that exposed her cleavage and barely hung low enough to conceal the bottom curves of her breasts. It was briefer than many bathing suit bras she'd seen, and since it hung free from her shoulders, she had to be very careful about how she moved.

Paired with the low-riding, hip-hugger pants, it left a lot of midriff bare. The material was raw silk and the slightly flared pants made her legs look longer, especially with the impossibly high-heeled sandals that made merely walking a concerted effort. Dangling gold earring hoops nearly touched her shoulders, and matched the gold chain around her waist, hanging over her exposed navel.

When the men at the party spoke to her, they tended to stare at her belly, or her cleavage. Two of them had the audacity to take her hand and force her into a circle so they could gape at her behind. Several had felt free to stroke her stomach with the backs of their knuckles—and Celia, who thought she'd known all about shame—had nearly closed in on herself. The possessive touches made her stomach turn, and she'd gulped down a few too many drinks trying to shore up her courage.

One thought kept going through her mind: Alec never made her feel like this. His touch excited her and made her tingle and she knew without a doubt he could easily make her beg for his body. But he never would, because what he offered he offered freely and without restriction, respecting her and her desires as natural and healthy.

There was nothing natural or healthy about the way these men looked at her.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Celia?”

She did her best to look awed. “Oh yes, Marc. Everyone is so fascinating. See that man over there? He told me he's a film producer and said he'd like to see me again! Isn't that exciting?”

Marc Jacobs smiled benignly. “Wonderful. I knew you'd do well. But I have even better news. A fellow colleague would like to talk to you privately.”

Her heart seemed to shudder and die in midbeat. She stared at him stupidly.

“Oh, now don't get nervous. You'll do fine.” He replaced her empty wineglass with a full one from the tray of a passing waitress. Celia automatically sipped. “You look unquestionably edible, Celia, so I'm not at all surprised that Blair noticed you. He freelances for several major magazines, and if I don't miss my guess, he's already picturing you in several spreads. As your acting agent, I recommend you do your best to ingratiate yourself with him.”

Celia was busy trying to cover her nervousness, hoping to come up with a way to avoid yet another isolated meeting, when she and Jacobs were approached by two young women. They were each beautiful, putting Celia to disgrace. One had caramel-colored skin and wide, slanted cat eyes and a generous mouth. Her hair was ruthlessly short, but the style suited her high cheekbones and bold features.

The other woman had long, sleek, flowing black hair. Her skin was flawless, very pale, and she had green eyes fringed by lush lashes that added startling color to her face. She was tall, topping Celia by several inches, and her body was willowy, bordering on waiflike. Both women were grinning, sipping drinks, and appeared happy.

Jacobs put one arm around each and made introductions. “Celia, I asked Jade and Hannah to show you around. They're familiar with everyone here and can help you get acclimated.”

Celia nearly bit her tongue.
Hannah.
And the girl was impeccably dressed in designer clothing, her face radiant, her expression carefree. Had Alec been right? Was she wasting her time?

With a bold squeeze to each woman's derriere, Jacobs excused himself. He told Celia he'd be back shortly to escort her in to the private meeting.

As soon as he was gone, Jade rubbed her bottom. “Damn, I hate when he does that.” She grinned at Celia and stuck out her hand. “So you're new? I hope you're not one of those wide-eyed hopefuls, though truth to tell, you look a lot older than most of the girls Marc brings around.”

Jade looked about fifteen but was surely older. She shook Celia's hand, then turned pleading eyes on Hannah. “Can you do the show and tell? I want to get off my feet for awhile. My legs are killing me, and with Marc gone, this might be my only chance to rest.”

Hannah's smile was genuine. “Sure thing.” She looped arms with Celia. “We'll tour around and get acquainted. But find someplace private to crash. If Marc finds you hiding, you know he won't like it.”

With a crooked smile that made her look even younger, Jade said, “I was thinking of a broom closet, actually.” Flicking them an airy wave, she walked away, leaving Hannah chuckling behind her.

Celia tried to take advantage of her private time with the girl. “I'm Celia Sharpe,” she improvised.

Hannah smiled again. “I'm just Hannah, you know, like Cher.” She took Celia's glass and put it on a table already littered with an overflowing ashtray and a few crumpled napkins. “You've had enough of that, haven't you? You look a bit tipsy.”

“I don't drink much,” Celia admitted. “But here, someone is constantly—”

“Giving you a new one, I know. I think the men like to keep us tipsy. You can imagine why.”

Celia stared at her, hoping to gain her confidence. “Why?”

But Hannah just laughed and shook her head. Celia would have liked to have Hannah's last name verified, but the girl matched the description she'd gotten from Mrs. Barrington, so that was good enough for her.

“What are we supposed to be doing, Hannah?”

“Well, for now, just mingling. If you see anyone looking at you, smile, flirt, encourage him with a look, that sort of thing.”

Carefully, Celia asked, “And that'll help us get modeling jobs?”

Hannah groaned. “You
are
a hopeful, aren't you? Honey, get realistic. Do you really expect to make it big through this crowd?”

Feeling like a child needing instruction, especially with Hannah's worldly air, Celia said, “Marc told me—”

“Whatever he had to to get you here. Marc appreciates a beautiful woman. And he'll take care of you, so don't worry about that. He'll dress you nice and set you up in a place to live.”

“How, if we're not working?”

Hannah gave her a pitying shake of her head. “You know what?” She took Celia's arm and dragged her around a corner of the main room, behind a large planter. “I shouldn't do this, and if you squeal on me—well, let's just say you really shouldn't, okay? But Celia, if you had any sense at all, you'd get out of here right now.”

Celia had to look up to meet the girl's eyes. Measuring her words, she said, “I can't. Marc has a meeting set up for me with someone named Blair.”

Hannah's face paled and she closed her eyes. “Well. He's not wasting any time with you, is he? It must be because you are a bit older, and he figures you can handle it.”

Celia clutched Hannah's arm. “Hannah, what's going on? Tell me, please. I'd like to help you if I can.”

Laughing, Hannah looked at her like she was deranged. “How could you help me? You're even more naive than I was.” Then she sobered and shook her head. “Oh God. I shouldn't even be talking to you here. If Marc found out…Come on. Let's go back out and mingle. Forget everything I said.”

Celia held back, causing Hannah to stop and look at her. “Hannah…” She bit her lip, then decided to take a major chance. She had no idea when she'd get another opportunity to talk to Hannah alone. “What if I told you I could help you? What if I told you I spoke with your mother this morning and she cried? She desperately wants you to come home, and she's worried sick.”

Taking a stunned step backward, Hannah stared at her. Her face went utterly white and her eyes dilated. Then, as if terrified, she looked around to guarantee their privacy and spoke quickly. “You're crazy. Forget you even saw me, okay? And get out of here while you can.”

She turned to leave, and practically ran into Jacobs.

He clutched her arms so hard Celia saw the girl wince. “What are you doing, Hannah? Why do you look so stricken?” His gaze shifted to Celia, whose face was, of course, bright red. “Celia? Is everything okay?”

Suspicion reeked from his tone and Celia knew neither of them were going anywhere until Jacobs was ready to let them go. Her heart raced and her wine-muddled brain worked frantically for an excuse.

Quickly, unwilling to let Hannah get in trouble for her folly, she said, “I'm…well, I'm embarrassed to say. I really hoped Hannah could help without anyone else knowing.”

Hannah sucked in a breath. Jacobs's eyes darkened and his expression shifted, turning hard. His smile was stiff. “Tell me what the problem is.”

“I can't. I'll feel like a fool.”

His grip tightened on Hannah until she gasped and stared at Celia with pleading green eyes.

“Do so anyway,” Jacobs said. “I insist.”

With her face on fire and a hasty look around, Celia mumbled, “I just started my monthly. Oh I know, it's rotten timing and the absolutely worst kind of luck. But I was hoping Hannah could show me where the bathroom is and help me, well, you know. Find what I need.” She peeked up at Jacobs to see a bemused expression on his face.

His hands stopped squeezing Hannah to caress her arms instead. Celia wanted to kill him, knowing how shaken Hannah was by their near miss, knowing he'd meant to affect her in just that way. His intimate hold on the girl now was far more lethal than the physical strength in his hands.

Then Jacobs laughed. “Celia, we're all adults here and I work with women on a daily basis. Really, it's not a problem. I'm sure Hannah can help you out. But hurry. Blair is waiting in the den.” His gaze went back to Hannah and there was a distinct warning there. “You'll see that she comes directly to the den?”

Hannah smiled, and she appeared for all the world as carefree as when Celia had first met her moments ago. It was as if the heated, nearly disastrous confrontation had never happened. “We ladies will need just a few moments, then we'll be there. I wouldn't want her to miss anything important.”

Jacobs rubbed his chin. “Good.” Leaning down, he kissed Hannah on the mouth, proving his possession. Hannah smiled and kissed him back.

As they hurried away, Celia thought she might faint from residual fear. She watched Hannah blink, saw her acceptance replaced with pure hatred and disgust.

Celia had to get her away from here, as soon as humanly possible. And if that meant facing Blair and probable degradation, she could do it.

More than ever, she was determined to save Hannah Barrington.

 

W
AITING WASN'T EASY
for Alec; he was more a man of action. His tendency was always direct confrontation. Defeat and remove threats. But that wasn't always legal, and he doubted Celia, or Dane for that matter, would tolerate him taking the law into his own hands right now.

The cell phone sat on the truck seat beside him, and he stared at it, daring it to ring, torn between wanting it to so he could rush in and remove Celia from the brownstone, and hoping she was okay and didn't need him at all.

Memories of long ago flooded in on him, making the air inside the truck too thick and hot to breathe. He didn't want to remember that night, or how badly it had ended. Time had proven him to be a better man, more mentally and physically equipped to handle anything that might come along. He wouldn't make the same mistakes—any of them—again.

Harm wouldn't come to Celia, because he wouldn't let it.

Muscles tight despite the pep talk he'd just given himself, Alec rolled down the window and stared through the darkness with his field glasses, forcefully pushing the oppressing memory away. A guard stood by the gate where Celia had been dropped off in that killer outfit that had almost caused his heart to stop. Another guard waited at the front door.

He had no doubt more loomed around every corner. They were all wired, meaning they could communicate easily with each other.

He had not a single doubt he could get past them all if Celia needed him. But if that situation arose, it didn't bode well for the guards, because he'd protect her at any cost and to hell with what was legal.

A sudden yellow glow flared out over the west side of the lawn from a large window, drawing his attention. Someone had turned on a light. With the glasses, Alec could see shadows of people moving about in the room, through the open draperies. But the angle wasn't right for him to see much more.