“FORGET IT.”
Gideon blinked. A second ago he’d been about to climb back into the gorgeous Mercedes on a warm California night. Now he was back in the stifling confines of the three hundred and forty-seventh level of hell, with Ralph sprawled on a wooden bench, peering at him from beneath luxurious black curls that could only be a wig. The last time he’d seen him he’d been an able-bodied policeman. He’d morphed into Captain Hook, with an elegant frock coat, a gold hook in place of a hand, a carved ivory peg leg, and an embroidered eye patch.
“Not Captain Hook,” Ralph said with a trace of irritation, reading his mind again. “He had both eyes and both legs, if I remember my classics correctly. But we’re not talking about literature, we’re talking about my eye. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Gideon glanced down at his own clothes. He was in jeans and a T-shirt—the silk suit long gone, but for some reason he reached for his nonexistent pocket, for the swan purse he’d tucked there. Gone as well, and the thought was oddly troubling.
“You can’t make me.”
“You sound like a teenager. I can make you do anything I want,” Ralph said. “All I have to do is threaten you with another millennium in this place as opposed to a chance of moving on, and you’ll do exactly as I say. Besides, what have you got to lose? She’s gorgeous, and you love women. Are you afraid you can’t get her? Afraid to fail?”
Afraid to win, he thought absently.
“Sentimental crap,” Ralph said, reading him. “You’ll screw her senseless, my eye will be healed, you’ll move on to someplace with a little more air conditioning, and she’ll move on to someone like Aaron who’ll marry her, give her babies, cheat on her and leave her for a younger woman the moment her looks start to fade.”
“You’re so sure of that?”
“Hell, no. The future isn’t preordained—I thought you knew that. There are all sorts of possibilities. The only thing that isn’t negotiable is whether or not you’ll seduce her. And she’s got to like it.”
“I wouldn’t think that would make any difference in whether your eye will heal or not.”
“It doesn’t. I just want your work cut out for you. Giving a virgin an orgasm is a tough job, but you’re the man to do it.”
“And if I say no?”
“I told you, not an option.”
Gideon kept his mind deliberately blank, looking around the tiny, heat-filled space. “So why am I back here?”
“What do you think this is, summer camp? You’re not on furlough, you’re on a mission. When you’re not working you come back here, not to that hotel suite.”
Gideon only raised an eyebrow. “You want my cooperation, Ralph? Then maybe you’ll have to give a little more than vague promises. I get to stay up there until the job is done, or no deal.”
Ralph scratched his head with the golden hook, and the long black wig shifted slightly. “You’re annoying, you know that? I could always make a trade, get someone a little more cooperative in your place.”
“Why don’t you?”
“You’ve already made some progress. She likes you, even if she’s not sure why. Besides, I prefer to work with what I have. You’ve got forty-eight hours, Gideon. Get her, and get her good, or you’ll find you didn’t even know what hell could be like. I’ll be watching.”
“Voyeur,” Gideon said.
“Don’t try my patience, boy.”
“I’ll do…” Gideon’s words trailed off. He was standing on a balcony, looking out over the sprawling city of Los Angeles. Looking toward the hills, where Samantha’s house was nestled. Ralph had sent him back, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t listening to every thought, watching every movement.
He summoned up the most insulting mental picture he could imagine, just for Ralph’s benefit, and then laughed. It was a cool night, the silk was soft against his skin, and the swan-shaped purse was in his pocket. The shoes were on a low table behind him, and he picked one up, running his fingers along the high arch, the ridiculously high heel. He couldn’t figure out how a woman could walk in those things, much less run. Or why a woman who hated dogs would run back into a burning restaurant to rescue one.
He’d find out soon enough. In the meantime he was going to strip off his silk suit, slide naked beneath the silk sheets that he was sure would be on the huge bed in his hotel room and sleep without dreams.
And he wouldn’t even break a sweat.
IT WAS A HOT, lazy afternoon. It had taken Sam forever to scrub the soot and smoke from her hair and skin, and she’d slept late, only dragging herself out of bed at Rags’s insistence. Dogs were a pain in the butt, she thought fondly, leading the partially blind, totally deaf springer spaniel out to the backyard, where he immediately began leaping around like a puppy instead of the twelve-year-old elder states man that he was. Whether they were tiny little yapsters like Choux-fleur or huge goofy dumbbells, she loved them all. Right now she only had Rags in residence, but she was expecting two rescued King Charles spaniels in the next week or so, and she was looking forward to it.
She hadn’t slept well. For some reason she kept dreaming of her annoying blind date. Not that there was any other kind of blind date, but what’s-his-name was more insidious than most. Or less forgettable, which made him dangerous. And she knew perfectly well what his name was. Gideon Hyde. She just wished she didn’t.
She liked him. She wasn’t sure why—maybe it was his kindness to Jasmine. Maybe it was the way he didn’t let her borderline rudeness bother him. Maybe because he didn’t fall at her feet or try to paw her. Maybe she was just obsessed by his mouth. It didn’t matter—she wouldn’t be seeing him again. No doubt, he’d have learned his lesson the hard way last night—that just because a woman possessed certain physical attributes didn’t mean she’d be an agreeable companion. Not to mention that she’d ditched him at the last minute. Plus a pair of designer shoes and her Judith Leiber purse. She’d always liked that purse, too. The swan appealed to her sense of humor. And it was going to be a pain to replace a couple of its contents.
She worked out for her allotted hour, hating every moment of it, then rewarded herself with a huge roast beef sandwich and a bottle of Sapporo beer. She had a real weakness for beer, one she couldn’t indulge too often, and she was working her way around the world. She’d gone through German, Danish and Mexican beers, and she was two weeks into Japanese beers. So far she liked them the best, but there were dozens of countries left to go.
She was wearing cutoffs, a well-worn white ASPCA T-shirt without a bra underneath and her hair was yanked back in a loose ponytail as she settled on the grass beneath the jacaranda tree. She didn’t bother with her contacts—her sunglasses had prescription lenses and it was a bright day. Rags came over and plopped down beside her, putting his head on her lap. He could smell the roast beef, but he’d always been too much of a gentleman to beg, and she wasn’t about to tempt him.
It was a beautiful day, and she had nothing to do, and even if she did, her car was in the shop. She didn’t need to worry about anything, not even Jasmine. And she’d managed to dump her unwanted date the night before, so why wasn’t she feeling more peaceful?
She took another drink of the icy beer, savoring it. She only allowed herself one a week—beer was fattening and for as long as her fifteen minutes of fame lasted she intended to respect the tool that had given it to her—her body.
She heard the car pull into her long driveway, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Jasmine was back early. She’d probably be crying—Aaron was a pig and a beast and Jasmine was a fool to love him, but all the reasoning in the world wouldn’t make any difference. Thank God she wasn’t plagued by any romantic weaknesses.
“I’m out back!” she called, taking another bite out of her sandwich. “Come and tell me how your night went. Was Mr. Tall, Dark and Brooding pissed off that I dumped him?” And then she stopped, horrified, as Mr. Tall, Dark and Brooding himself came around the corner of the house.
“Not particularly,” he said. He still had his dark glasses on, but today he was wearing black pants and a black silk shirt. No gold chains, and only a couple of buttons undone. She found she wanted to see more of his chest and had no idea why.
Fortunately Sam was incapable of blushing. She tilted her head sideways, observing him. “You’d make a good model,” she said. “You wear clothes well.”
“I’m not bad without them,” he replied in his calm, liquid voice. “You left your shoes and purse behind. I figured you weren’t being Cinderella, but by the time I dropped Jasmine off she was too involved with Aaron to pay much attention, or I would have given them to her.”
“Rather than use them as an excuse to see me again?”
“I didn’t get the impression you were swept away by my charms, but you can always disabuse me of the notion.” He set the shoes down on the chair by the pool, placing the swan purse on top of them. “You hate dogs, do you? And I suppose Sapporo suddenly started making nonalcoholic beer, and that’s roast beef-colored tofu on your sandwich?”
She should have been annoyed. “You’re just lucky Rags is blind and deaf. He hates men. He was abused as a puppy and he gets very aggressive when men come near.”
“Does he? Sounds like his owner.” Without waiting to be asked he sat down in one of the French wrought-iron chairs by the pool. As luck would have it Rags suddenly realized someone was there, and he lifted his head, sniffing, and a quiet growl started in his throat as he lumbered to his feet.
She grabbed for him, but he slipped past her, heading toward Gideon with unnatural accuracy, given his cloudy eyesight. Sam closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable snapping and growling. Rags wouldn’t actually bite him, but he could make enough noise to scare the devil. Well, she’d warned him.
To her astonishment the incipient growl ended. She opened her eyes to see Rags slobbering happily beneath Gideon’s beautiful hands.
“He seems to like me well enough. Another lie?”
Sam shook her head. “He’s never let another man near him. That’s very odd.”
“Maybe he has better instincts than his mistress.”
She took another drink of beer. “Okay, I’m sorry. I just don’t happen to like blind dates.”
“Or men?”
“I like men just fine. In their place,” she added with a trace of wickedness.
“And where is that? As far away as possible?”
“Depends on the man,” she said. “Do you want a beer?”
“I want…”
The ring of the cell phone stopped him midsentence. She picked it up, crossing her bare legs and leaning forward.
It was Jasmine, sobbing. “Sam!” she wailed on the other end.
“What’s wrong?”
“Aaron and I had a fight. He left me up here, all alone!”
“Where are you?”
“Up in the mountains. The house in Santa Ina—you remember. You came here for the Fourth of July. I’m all alone here and I don’t think he’s coming back!”
“Jerk!” Sam muttered.
“What?” Jasmine exclaimed.
“Aaron, not you,” Sam clarified. “I’ll come and get you. Just calm down, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“You don’t have a car. It’s in the shop, remember?” Jasmine started sobbing even harder.
Sam glanced over at Gideon. He was concentrating on scratching Rags’s head as it lolled blissfully against his leg. “I’ll borrow one,” she said. “Give me three hours and I’ll come get you. Okay?”
“Okay,” Jasmine’s voice was watery. “But come soon.”
Sam disconnected, rising to her feet with one fluid movement. “I need your car,” she said flatly.
“Forget it. You’re not getting it. Not without me.”
“If you think I’m going to sleep with you just to borrow your car…”
He laughed. “Who said anything about sleeping with me? Since it’s a rental, I don’t want anyone else driving it. If you need to go someplace, I’ll drive you.”
She couldn’t blush, but she could mentally kick herself. Why in hell had she said something like that? She had no idea whether Gideon Hyde wanted to get her in bed or not. Most men did, but she’d already discovered that Gideon wasn’t most men. He was far more interesting. Dangerously so.
“I need to drive up to a cabin in the mountains near Santa Ina and pick up Jasmine. Apparently she had a fight with Aaron and he left her there.”
“All right,” he said. “Let’s go.” He rose, and he was her height. She needed her shoes on again. She needed her hair and her makeup and her uncomfortable clothes.
“Give me a minute to change.”
“I thought we were in a hurry.”
She looked at him. It was an odd sensation—he was picture-perfect, she was the slob. “Let me see your eyes,” she said abruptly.
“You want to see if I’m on drugs?”
“No. I want to see whether I can trust you.”
He reached up and took the dark glasses off, looking directly into her eyes, and for a moment her heart stopped. His eyes were so dark they were almost black, and they were slightly tilted, exotic-looking, deep and unfathomable. And all she could do was look into them wordlessly, falling into some deep, velvet tunnel.
“Now you,” he said, keeping her trapped in the watchfulness of his gaze.
“This isn’t strip poker.”
“Take them off.” His deep, liquid voice was almost hypnotic, and she took off her sunglasses.
“I’m not wearing my contacts,” she said. “You’ll be a blur.” But she could see him quite clearly. See his eyes, feel them. It was almost physical and totally unnerving. Her skin felt hot, prickly, and she wanted…
She didn’t know what she wanted. She put her glasses back on hurriedly and stepped away. “Satisfied?”
“Not yet. What about the dog? Will he be all right alone?”
No man had ever expressed concern about any of her dogs. “He’ll be fine. My housekeeper is coming over later to feed him—if I’m not here she’ll just take him home with her. He’s used to her.”
“Then let’s go.”
“I need shoes.”
He smiled. Another danger—with his dark, unreadable eyes and that half smile he was disturbingly attractive. And she didn’t want to be attracted to him. “You could wear the ones I brought back. Unless they’ve already served their purpose.”
“What do you mean?”
“They put me in my place. I think you can comfortably get away with flats now. I know you’re above me.”
She almost put the damned shoes on just to spite him. She had a pair of well-worn sandals by the pool—she shoved her feet in them instead.
“Purse?” she said. He tossed the tiny jeweled swan to her, and she caught it. It held nothing but a hundred dollars cash, her driver’s license and her ATM card, but it would do. “I’m ready,” she said, not sure if she was.
The black Mercedes was parked in her driveway, the same car he’d driven the night before, of course. “I don’t suppose you’d change your mind about letting me drive?”
“Not in this lifetime. Do I open the door for you or will you hit me?”
He’d managed to surprise her again. Had he read her mind last night? Impossible. “I can open my own doors.”
“Then what’s stopping you? Get in.”
She hesitated for a moment longer. For some reason she kept thinking it was the point of no return. Once she stepped into that car her life would be changed forever.
And then she shook away the odd superstitious thought and climbed in. Jasmine needed her. This was no time for her to give in to her overindulgent imagination.
This wasn’t the river Styx, and he wasn’t Charon, taking her down into hell. She wasn’t Persephone, she wasn’t Cinderella, she wasn’t anyone but Sam going to rescue a friend, forced into the company of a fascinating stranger.
She’d survive. She always did.