Ultimate Warriors (37 page)

     
His hand
dropped down over her lower back as he drew her closer. His eyes dared her to
pull away as his fingers settled boldly on her naked flesh--almost caressing in
their possessive hold against her skin. Gradually, he brought her closer to his
chest. He drew his fingers over her shoulder. A trail of fire ignited on her
arm as his touch dipped to cup her hand into his. The corner of his lips
lifted, unwittingly tempting her to taste him. The musicians started a new
piece and Nikandros took a step back and then another, automatically joining
the other couples on the floor.

     
"You
have a beautiful home," he said lightly, easily leading her further onto
the floor.

     
Quinlan
just smiled, not answering. Her gaze moved over his shoulder and she saw the
portrait of her father staring down at her. Nikandros felt her tense. He knew
where her eyes went.

     
"Tango?"
he asked.

     
Quinlan
blinked, drawing her wide gray-green gaze back to him. Nikandros was surprised
to see pain there. She quickly hid the emotion.

     
"Do
you tango?" he inquired softly, drawing his head down near her ear. She
felt the brush of his breath against her cheek.

     
Instead
of answering, she took an aggressive move toward him, making him back up as she
stalked him. He grabbed her arm, a wide smile on his face, as he swirled her
around on the floor. A path cleared and couples stopped to watch. Quinlan was
captured in the spell of him and didn’t notice. It was as if they were the only
two in the room.

     
They
danced. Their movements were more like a battle of wills than a seduction. But
the battle was seducing, heating their blood, impassioning their bodies.
Quinlan felt his hands brushing over her back, her waist, barely stroking the
silk along the side of her breast. When he touched her, she felt as if he
undressed her.

     
Nikandros’
body was firm beneath her palms. She felt the hard press of his arms and chest
beneath the tuxedo he wore. In what seemed like only a second, the dance ended.
The gathered crowd began to clap. Nikandros pulled her up to face him, setting
her tight along his body. The silk was no match to his heat.

     
Quinlan
blinked. Her father’s portrait was looking at them, watching, smiling down from
above. Her head moved to the crowd. Henry was there, his face red with
jealousy. She swallowed, artfully dipping away from her handsome dance partner.
As the musicians started anew, she turned to walk away without a sound.

     
Nikandros
started to go after her, wondering at the sudden chill he’d felt in her toward
him. Surely a woman, who danced as confidently as she, did not embarrass easily
at the attention of the crowd. He reminded himself that she was a recluse.
Maybe she didn’t like crowds.

     
"Dr.
Grant," said Henry, blocking his way. Nikandros watched Quinlan work
through the throng, smiling politely at those she passed but not lingering. She
slipped up the side stairwell. "I had no idea you were coming tonight. The
invitation was for your father."

     
"My
father is dead," Nikandros said easily. He eyed the little man, wanting
nothing more than to push past him and go after the red covered goddess. She
might not beckon him with words, but her body screamed her attraction loud and
clear. "We buried him a few years back. I came to pay my respects to Dr.
St. James’ daughter. My father always spoke highly of the good doctor."

     
"I
know what you’ve come for," said Henry in a low growl. Nikandros finally
turned his attention away from the stairwell to study Henry fully, thinking he
meant to possessively mark Quinlan as his own. To his surprise, the man said,
"You’ll not get her father’s notes. They belong to the museum."

     
"What
do you know about it?" he asked, keeping his smile light, though his eyes
bore down to intimidate the little man.

     
"I
know plenty," said Henry, not backing down. A snarl formed on his lips and
he didn’t seem so much the simple little man Nikandros had easily dismissed him
as. "I know that Quinlan won’t give them to you--no matter how much you
try and seduce her with your charm. She is a smart woman. She won’t be swayed
by charm. She might humor you, but she will not be swayed. Besides, the
collection is already donated."

     
"Then
what about money?" Nikandros asked, gauging the man. "I take it
you’re her...broker?"

     
Henry
smiled. "What I am to her, you don’t need to know."

     
Nikandros
frowned at the obvious implication the man tried to get across. He didn’t buy
for a moment that Henry Thompson was Quinlan’s lover. He’d sensed more than saw
her repulsion when the man had touched her arm. Her eyes had begged him to get
her away from him.

     
"Look
around you, dear boy," said Henry, very condescending. "She doesn’t
need your money. Anything she does will be done out of loyalty."

     
Nikandros
didn’t move. His blood slowed in his veins, leaving him cold.

     
Henry
sniffed, looking him up and down. "You will never be able to have her
loyalty."

     
Henry
turned away as someone vied for his attention, a wide grin of victory on his
lips. Nikandros silently watched him, before walking out one of the side doors
leading to the garden. It was worse than he thought. If Quinlan was selling the
formula, then he could have easily come up with the money to buy it from her,
if she wouldn’t hand it over to him willingly.

     
However,
loyalty was something else altogether. Henry was right. She was a billionaire.
Her loyalty would not be easily purchased. Besides, he sensed a great amount of
pride in her. Even if she weren’t rich, she wouldn’t be easily turned from a
cause she believed in.

* * * *

     
Quinlan’s
body was on fire. The thin red silk was no match for Nikandros’ hands on her
body. If anything, it had made his touch all the more erotic. She swallowed,
knowing he was a distraction to her. She had a duty to her father to find out
who killed him. She had a duty to herself to put an end to the whole formula
mess once and for all. No one would be getting the formula.
No
one.
Not even a handsome stranger with the body of a God and the dance
moves to match.

     
It
didn’t take Quinlan long to realize Nikandros seduced her for her father’s
formula. Everyone at the party had hinted at its existence in one subtle way or
another. Finding the murderer was proving harder than she first imagined. She’d
just have to wait for that one person who would threaten her. She’d dangle
hints of it all around until whoever burned badly enough with greed would come
forward.

     
Nikandros
would have been too young when her father died to be a big part of the
conspiracy, but what of his father? Did he come to fulfill a family legacy? She
would have to be very cautious of him.

     
The
blood in her veins was still heavy with desire and the persistent throb in her
stomach that only grew each passing moment until she thought she might explode.
Quinlan knew she would also have to be very cautious of herself. She wanted
Nikandros like she had never wanted anyone--much more than she had wanted that
fumbling idiot who’d taken her virginity after her father died. She’d been on a
self-destructive path of self-loathing at the time, hating her father and
herself for what she had become.

     
But that
was then, before she had discovered the true depths of her gift and her curse.
Her father’s formula had made it one and the same. She was cursed to be alone,
blessed to be a heroine. She’d done a lot of good in the last ten years. She’d
saved lives, helped the helpless. And not once did anyone discover their helper.
Her life was a complicated secret and she preferred to keep it that way.

     
Crossing
over to her bedroom fireplace, she pushed a brick. A small door slid open and
she ducked into the secret passage. Ignoring Silk’s bodysuit hanging on the
wall of the small den, she walked quickly past it into a narrow hall that led
out into the garden. When she emerged, she was behind a rose bush. She closed
her eyes, listening, taking quick stock of her surroundings with her sensitive
hearing. The closest person she could detect was fifty yards to her right.

     
Quinlan
straightened, walking out into the moonlit garden as if she had been there all
along.

     
"That
was an interesting trick. You’ll have to show me how you did that."

     
She
shivered. A smile came unbidden to her excited, panting lips at the sound of
his voice. Turning, she watched Nikandros alight from the shadows. She hadn’t
sensed him there.

     
Cocking
her head to the side, she shot him a sultry smile and asked, "Are you
stalking me, Dr. Grant?"

     
Nikandros
watched the blue moonlight play across Quinlan’s lovely features. He’d sensed
more than saw her coming from the side of the home. Unable to help himself, he
went to her. He tried to tell himself that it was his duty to go to her. But as
he felt the burning desire in his loins, he knew that it was something else
altogether that spurred him on.

     
"I
should have you thrown out for this," Quinlan said after a long moment of
impassioned silence. Sparks flew between them and they each knew it.

     
Instead
of answering, he smiled.

     
"I
have a feeling you are a dangerous man, Nick Grant," Quinlan said. They
were hidden by the shadows of a tree from the rest of the guests. The feel of
him dancing with her had not lessened and she wanted to go eagerly back into
his arms.

     
Nikandros
took the low, sultry words as an invitation to go forward.

     
"And
you, my dear, are a mystery," he returned. His hand lifted to her cheek.
Her eyes dreamily closed at his touch. There was no point denying the desire
between them. It blazed on the night like stars shooting across the heavens.

     
"So
we’re agreed?" she sighed, letting him feel her. She was too weak to
protest. He had taken up too many of her thought as of late. "We don’t
trust each other."

     
Her lips
parted, begging him to taste her.

     
"Not
in the slightest," he whispered back, leaning to claim her mouth with his.
His fingers glided to her slender neck, holding her steady and light, as he
felt the pulse racing beneath her flesh.

     
Quinlan
moaned to feel him. The contact felt odd after being alone and untouched for so
long. His lips were tender, persuasive, teasing. When his tongue edged forward,
tasting the champagne on her lips, she gasped in excitement.

     
Nikandros
nearly groaned to hear the soft, feminine plea. In that moment, she almost
sounded helpless, vulnerable. He drew back to study her face. Her eyes were
closed to him, her lips still parted.

     
Quinlan
felt as if she was in a cloud. She wanted him to keep touching her. She wanted
him to kiss her, to make love to her. His hand was so gentle against her body.
His lips were so firm and commanding, yet giving. She’d felt his kiss all the
way to her curling toes. Her body burned. She felt ... she felt a vibrating at
her throat?

     
"Quinlan?"
Nikandros said when she didn’t move.

     
"The
lab," she whispered, blinking to awareness. Her hand went to her throat.
Beneath the crossing of silk, the silent alarm vibrated against her skin.
Someone was breaking into her father’s laboratory. Jolting into action, she
began to run to a servant’s entrance to the house.

     
Nikandros
had heard her soft whisper and moved to follow behind her as she darted away.
Quinlan ignored him, intent on finding out who was trying to steal her father’s
formula.

     
She tore
through the servant hall and through the kitchen, ignored by the robotic staff
as she whipped past them. They continued working, loading trays full of
champagne and wine, caviar and toast points.

     
With a
push of a button, a stone wall moved and shifted, creating an entrance into a
separate hall. Nikandros grabbed her arm as she tried to rush forward. The door
shut, sealing them in the passageway. Dim red lights switched on to part the
darkness.

     
"Quinlan,
wait," he commanded. His gaze easily detected her in the darkened light.
Her skin glowed eerie in the red and her gown looked as if it bled from her
body. "You don’t know who--"