Hunt Me (Love Thieves #3) (3 page)

“Yes, sir.” Another wink and she pivoted on her heel to head across the lobby. Midtown Manhattan hummed with foot traffic, cars, and tourists. Her limo waited out front. If she hurried, she could be at LaGuardia in a couple of hours and, after weeks of delay, finally be on her way to Los Angeles.

A very masculine hand caught the door to the vestibule and pulled it open. Startled, she glanced to find Parker smiling at her. His easy expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Mr. Parker….”

“Lady Hardwicke.” His voice lacked any discernible accent but possessed a distinctly masculine quality, low and direct. He motioned her through the door and followed her. He caught the second door to the street, opening it as well.

Traffic noise spilled over them as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. “You handled those men very, very well up there.”

She appreciated the compliment. “Thank you. You didn’t seem to have much to add to the conversation.”

“It wasn’t a conversation.” The right corner of his mouth curved with a hint of wryness. “Or, at least, that wasn’t their plan. They wanted to brief you, have you sign off, and move on.”

She nodded, bemused he’d noticed. She walked over to the limo and handed her purse to the driver who opened the back door and stowed it inside. “It’s what they usually expect, although I’ve never done what’s usually expected of me.”

“I liked it. You handled all of it gracefully. But why Dubai?” He canted his head, curiosity in his tone, not criticism.

She wore four-inch heels and still had to look up at him. Crossing her arms, she considered ignoring his question and asking him to join her for the ride to the airport and drinks along the way. But she never mixed business and pleasure.

Well, almost never….

He wore no ring on his left hand and no tan line betrayed the recent presence of one. But it wouldn’t be the first time a married man decided to forgo the wedding band.

“Why not Dubai?” She turned the question back on him. “It’s a wealthy region, plenty of opportunities, multiple construction projects, and booming Western interests.”

“Because it’s a glut, too. You’re not looking at creating anything new or cutting edge as you explained to Miles. So is Dubai a distraction to focus them elsewhere and rile them up at the same time?”

Intrigued, she arched both brows and closed the gap between them to less than a foot. “Why would I want to distract them?”

“So you can close the deal you really want and then make a peace offering by conceding to their wishes.”

Her belly fluttered.
Oh, hello, Mr. Intelligent and Sexy. The combination should be illegal.
“Interesting supposition. What deal do you think I’m really after?” If only she planned to stay in the city for another few nights, she might be able to explore the depths of this man—or at least find out if he was married.

“You didn’t comment on the Costa Rica proposal at all. In fact, you distracted them with a colorful golf joke and derailed the entire conversation for an hour.”

A warning tingle raced up her spine. “Clever deduction, but maybe I like golf.”

Parker laughed, a hard, delicious sound which caressed her. Excitement curled in her chest. “Must explain why you stared off into space when they debated the last Master’s.”

Did he watch me through the whole meeting?
She rifled her memory for what areas of their organization he represented but couldn’t place him. “I learned a long time ago, it’s good business to not disagree with the men you’re talking to, particularly about their favorite sports.” She made a show of glancing at her watch, even though she knew the exact time. “I have a flight in a couple of hours. Would you like to join me for drinks on the way to the airport? My driver can take you wherever you need to be after.”

“I would enjoy the time.” He motioned to the car.

Ronald, her driver, gave her a mildly amused look as she slid past him and into the car. She scooted over the seat and moved her purse before Parker joined her.

Leaning back, she crossed her legs, very well aware the skirt rode up and with no table between them now. “So, tell me about Costa Rica, Mr. Parker, and why you think it’s the deal I should be interested in?”

Amusement creased his face. “Jarod.”

“I’m sorry?” She played dumb easily enough—paint on a pretty smile, lift her brows, and blink. Most men bought it.

“Jarod Parker.” He held out his hand, and she grasped it. “But please, call me Jarod.”

Electricity skated over her palm at the warm contact. His fingers closed on her hand, and she realized how large a man he was.
Appearances really can be so deceiving….
“All right, Jarod. Call me Katherine.”

He matched her smile and raised the ante, holding her hand hostage. “Would you mind Kat?”

“Actually, I prefer Kit.”

“Kit.” He rolled the name around on his tongue. Her gaze went unerringly to his mouth. What else could he do with his tongue? “Kit Kat—I like it.”

Her face warmed. Dear God, was she blushing? Clearing her throat, she extracted her hand. “I prefer Kit, but I reserve it only for my friends. So you may call me Katherine.” Time to get some distance and perspective.

“Whatever you say, Kit Kat.” He settled back against the seat, and the tingles radiating out from her middle increased.

Oh. My.

Chapter Two

Lady Hardwicke wasn’t what he’d expected when he leveraged an invitation to the meeting with her financial advisors. Miles Fitzhugh dabbled in the traffic of stolen artwork—enough to have had his hands slapped by the IAAR more than once. His latest fiasco included a Raphael—valuable enough, they could have sent him to a plush prison cell for the rest of his life. The IAAR gave Fitzhugh a choice, return the Raphael and cooperate with a future “favor” or face criminal charges.

The wealthy banker blustered and argued, but, like all the powerful men before him, caved at the idea of facing a real consequence to his actions. Using his Walter Curry identity, Jarod sent an email briefly introducing Jarod Parker to him and the orders to allow him to attend the meetings. When he arrived earlier in the day, Fitzhugh had barely said a word to him—simply vouched him through the door and all but ran in the other direction.

Jarod didn’t mind the lack of support. In fact, he preferred it. The lengthy meeting detailing every financial dollar of Hardwicke’s extensive investments provided him with the perfect opportunity to observe Katherine—Kit.

“Drink?”

“Water.” No point in alcohol. He wanted all his wits about him…and her if he were to be honest.

“Mr. Parker?” She held out a bottle of water to him. If his request for water surprised her, she didn’t show it. She, too, chose one of the small bottles. The limo glided through New York traffic, muffling the noise beyond and leaving them cocooned in privacy.

“Jarod,” he reminded her, brushing her hand with his as he took the bottle. Her skin felt like satin, and he wondered if it was as silky everywhere. “We covered this already.”

“We did, but before I knew you wanted something from me.” She twisted off the bottle cap and tipped it up for a long drink. He stared a moment too long at the way her lips pressed against the opening and longer still at her throat when she swallowed.

Business first.
He opened his own bottle. “And you are presuming I want something from you.”

“Yes, I am.” She leaned back against the plush seat, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs. She screwed the cap back on slowly. “But, then, you sought me out.”

Amusement curled through him. “You’re basing the assumption on what?”

“I rode the executive express elevator down to the lobby. You were still in the room when Miles and I left. So you had to have taken the second express elevator to the third floor and jogged down the stairs.” She waved lightly with one manicured hand. “Not that I’m not flattered, but you also didn’t have any business proposals or finances for me to approve or review during the meeting. So what is it you want from me,
Mr. Parker
?”

Desire flooded through humor, but he refrained from uttering the first provocative words springing to mind.
Business always.
Too long a player in this game, one elegant lady with her sweet curves and seductive power would not distract him from his goal.

“Maybe I wanted to spend time with a beautiful, intelligent woman.” He took a drink of the water as though still mulling the possibilities. “Maybe I wanted a chance to ask you what you wanted so I could dazzle you at the next investors meeting.”

“Or maybe you wanted to find out if I am as loose as the gossip columnists like to report….” She shifted, leaning forward. The white jacket she wore over the deeper green silk shirt parted, giving him a lovely view of creamy white breasts pushing up against the plunging neckline of her blouse. “After all, you’re exactly my type. Dark. Handsome. Brooding. Maybe a touch of mystery.”

The words stroked his cock, and he forced himself to stay relaxed against the seat. She sat an arm’s length away, and her calf-length skirt possessed the most wicked of slits all the way up to her thigh. It wouldn’t take much to push it up and….

He choked the thought off. Maybe he had been out of the game too long. “Do you want to have sex with me?” Not the question Jarod intended to ask, but the surprise and delight flaring beneath the suspicion in her gaze rewarded the impulse.

“Are you married?” The counter question surprised him. He didn’t wear a ring, didn’t even have a tan line.

“No.” He shook his head once.

“Ever been married?”

His mouth curved with unexpected enjoyment, humor tying with desire on the mad dash through his system. “No.”

“Excellent.”

She set her water bottle down and leaned back against the seat. He regretted the lack of visible cleavage, but not even its lack could quiet the almost inaudible hunger rousing inside.
Pay attention.
He needed his wits active, not his libido.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He should probably let it go, move them on to more relevant topics—like where she planned to fly today and whether she’d stolen the Buddha.

“Hmm.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a small compact. “Apparently not.”

He enjoyed the front row seat to her next performance. And it
was
a performance, he had no doubt. She flipped open a compact, checked her makeup, and applied a sheer gloss to her already red lips. Her tongue even came out to swipe at her lower lip, the barest hint of a caress. His cock swelled uncomfortably at the gesture. She snapped the compact closed and took her time before looking at him again.

“Are you playing with me?” he asked before she could say anything.

Her mouth curved, and her chin lifted. “Maybe.”

“Care to share the rules, or do you prefer I guess?”

She stroked a finger against the seat next to her. A single gesture, her nail gliding over the soft fabric, and the need in him turned up another notch. Despite the comfort of the suit he wore, heat burned him up from the inside. If her plan involved driving him wild, she succeeded.

Lady Katherine Hardwicke was a far more dangerous opponent than he’d anticipated.

Her white teeth threatened to graze the fresh gloss on her lips, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away. “Rules are for children.”

“And fair play,” he countered. “If you break a rule, you serve a penalty. If you break a rule, you deserve the consequences.”

“How can there be consequences if there are no rules?” Her nails clicked together as she rubbed her thumb against her fore and middle fingers. “Money buys a lot of latitude, but even the wealthy have to follow certain rules—protocols if you will.”

“So this is about privilege?” He couldn’t pinpoint where she headed with this discourse, but tension corded his body. He wanted to know.

He really wanted to know.

“Why does it have to be about anything, Mr. Parker?”

He could learn to loathe the way his name sounded on her lips—too formal, too stilted, too at a distance.

“Because, Kit Kat, it’s absolutely about something. You think I want something. You in turn have something to conceal…or maybe you want something, too. You ask me if I want to have sex with you—” He broke off, and Kit threw her head back and laughed.

God what a gorgeous laugh: rich, throaty, and filled to the brim with utter delight. It captivated him more swiftly than her decadent curves or provocative actions. Her green eyes sparkled in the light filtering through the tinted windows. Her wonderful lips spread into a true smile—not the pasted on polite facsimile she affected during the meeting, but an honest, cheek-cramping grin.

Holy shit, I do want to have sex with her.
He wanted it, and it distracted him. He’d asked her, not the other way around. Her unfiltered joy at his discomfiture and mistake made it hard to regret, though.

“Point to you.” He inclined his head.

“Only one point?” She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “So, the answer to your question, Mr. Parker, will have to wait until you earn the right to ask it again.”

Again.

He could work with the promise of further opportunities.

“And when would that be, Kit Kat?” He didn’t miss the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth each time he called her by the new nickname. Her mouth may have declared she didn’t like it, but her actions said otherwise.

“That would be telling, wouldn’t it?’

And so, they played this game on multiple levels. He glanced out the window. They were in Queens, on the road toward La Guardia.

“You’re flying somewhere.”

“Yes. Too easy, Jarod. I already told you I had a flight….” Her turn to trail off.

He shrugged. “Point to me.”

“So it would seem.”

Her accent embraced his name, rolling it around her tongue to make it sound almost exotic. Intoxication—Lady Katherine Hardwicke—pure intoxication, and the intoxicated made foolish mistakes. He would do well to remember the dangers and forgo imbibing.

But damn, he couldn’t imagine anything smoother or sweeter than the woman sitting across from him.