Page 47 of Trick's Trap

“Oh, leave her alone.” Patrick threw a napkin at him. “Tahlia’s degree is in crazy high-level math, not hotel hospitality. Stop trying to recruit my girlfriend.”

“Why?” Liam asked bluntly. “I think she would be a great asset. She could do so many things in the organization.”

“We already under-utilize great talent, or have you forgotten how bored Peyton’s been lately?” Trick asked, serving her more wine.

“If Peyton wants more to do, all she has to do is ask,” Liam grumbled in the gravel-filled bear voice he reserved for discussing their IT superstar.

“I’m just saying Tahlia doesn’t need you pressuring her. She should get a chance to explore all her options—think tanks and stuff like that.”

Tahlia exchanged a smile with Dr. Sattler. “Sorry. All Trick knows about math careers, he learned fromGood Will Hunting.” She snickered, successfully pulled out of her melancholia by the brothers’ banter.

“I’m nearly three times your age and I still get pigeonholed by that movie, too,” Dr. Sattler said, making them all laugh.

Later that night, she was alone with Trick in his office. He sat at his desk as she walked along the wall behind him, trailing her fingers along the bottom edge of the framed pictures. They showcased each of the hotels in the Caislean chain.

Their original intention had been to have a drink on the hotel’s rooftop garden, but a sudden spat of rainy snow nixed that plan. Now they were sharing a glass of cognac to chase the chill away.

“That’s our hotel in Sydney,” Patrick said as she paused to examine the dramatic skyline behind a grand six-story building. Part of the distinctive Sydney opera house gleamed behind it.

“You don’t usually see the back of this building,” she observed, taking a big sip of her drink. She closed her eyes as the liquor washed through her body, spreading its artificial liquid heat.

“We can see it in person from whatever angle you want. Just say the word.”

A corner of her mouth lifted. She stepped closer, brushing her legs against his knees. The alcohol was making her limbs heavy, but not unpleasantly so. She rather liked how her skin tingled when she touched Patrick, a sensation magnified by the cognac.

The hungry heat in his eyes was at odds with the fact he hadn’t moved to touch her since sitting down. Then she noticed something.

“Are you sitting on your hands?” Was he that cold?

He grinned. “Sometimes I just like looking at you. But my hands don’t want to cooperate. They’re itching to tear that dress off.”

A blush crept up her body. Tahlia downed the rest of her cognac, wincing as it burned her throat.

“Sorry, it’s the kind of drink you sip.” Patrick laughed, patting her on the back when she coughed.

“Well, I need my hands free,” she said, setting the glass down on the desk before climbing on his lap, pushing her back against his chest.

His desk was littered with personal photos. Next to pictures of him and his siblings was one of Patrick by himself at a poker table next to Maia’s husband.

She picked it up with a smile. “You’re so young here.”

“It was my twenty-first birthday. I decided to spend it gambling, legally, for the first time.”

“Was this taken in Las Vegas?”

He shook his head. “No. I decided that wasn’t special enough for the big two-one. This is the Hotel Monte Carlo.”

Tahlia snatched the picture up, her eyes devouring every detail.

Patrick took the picture. “I will take you there as soon as we’re free to leave,” he murmured, moving his hand to cup her face.

He kissed her deeply, his tongue breaching the seam of her lips.

Time slowed down as a liquid heat poured into her body. Her nipples puckered and peaked under the soft black jersey of her bodice.

Patrick was reaching for the hemline of her dress when someone began to pound on the door.

He swore under his breath, shifting so she was sitting more demurely as his brother-in-law and his partner Ethan came in. Both wore dark expressions. Something had happened.

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