Page 3 of Dirty Gambit

Crap! Focus, Lena! You’re a goddamn professional.

Not a professional at this. She didn’t seduce men for a living. Steal the wallet from his pocket and the watch off his wrist, fine, but stand like some sacrificial lamb in the radius of his sheer magnetic power was something else. It was a whole other ballgame. But it was still a game and if Angelena Ramos was good at anything, it was learning on her feet.

“And you’re Jaxon.” Smooth and flirty, just the way she’d practiced. The return of her calm helped reset her nerves. She could feel control crawling back into stiff limbs. “Your picture is kind of everywhere,” she explained when a brow etched up in surprise.

Her response incited a chuckle out of him that seemed to reverberate across his chest, deep and masculine. The kind of sound that knew how to hit every pressure point in a woman’s body to make her weak.

“My mom is very big on capturing family moments,” he said, slanting a glance in the direction of a massive oil painting of the entire family, minus Jessie hanging over a clean fireplace. Jaxon was younger in the portrait, early twenties if Lena had to guess. “She’s worried her children will grow up, move out and this will be the only way she’d ever see them again.”

“So, she’s building a shrine?”

His laugh was imposing and booming, and echoed through the room, bouncing off the spine of the books and collecting along the vaulted ceiling. The absolute carefreeness of it elicited a grin from Lena she wasn’t prepared for or expecting.

“Yeah, I guess in a way she is.” He sobered and peered down at her, laughter still shining in those bottomless eyes.

“Well, it’s not that bad. No hair dolls yet,” she explained when he raised an eyebrow. “That’s when you might need to worry.”

Jaxon snorted. “I don’t think I have enough hair for a doll.”

Lena widened her eyes and sucked in a breath of air. “Maybe that’s why you don’t.”

His second bout of laughter elicited a chuckle from her. “That’s disturbing.” He ran a hand over the smooth lines of his jaw, attention never wavering off her face. “Thank you for putting that image in my head. The scary truth is, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

Lena grimaced. “Hey, it could be worse. Does she own a sledgehammer?”

“Oh my God!” The same hand jumped up to cover his eyes. “Nowthat’sa scary thought.”

“It worked for Annie Wilkes.”

His eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. “You remember her name?”

She offered a flippant shrug. “Research. You never know when you might come upon your favorite author stranded in some snowdrift. A girl has to be prepared.”

“Jesus!” His laugh echoed through the room. “I need to keep you away from my mom. She doesn’t need any more ideas.” Still grinning, he extended a hand, catching Lena off guard. “It’s been a pleasure, Lena.”

She stared at it a moment too long, mind a mess of pros and cons of touching him before it was time. But the fact that he didn’t pull back or lower his arm made the situation unavoidable.

She accepted, slipping her tiny palm against the hard, rough square of his. Long, lean fingers closed around the fragile bones of hers, encompassing the digits entirely. Excruciating tendrils of fire burst up her arm from the spot his skin met hers and exploded through her veins, leaving carnage in its wake. Lena gasped before she could stop herself and the amusement in his eyes darkened. His grin grew sharp and knowing.

Shit!

Lena yanked her arm back, involuntarily staggering a step. The tray in her hand wobbled dangerously, nearly sending the canapés to the smooth marble below. A few of the crackers slid sideways to the edge before she caught the tray and righted it.

“Sorry!” She gasped, not sure if she was talking to the entrees or the man watching her with hot, hooded eyes. “I should get back,” she told him, relieved when her voice didn’t shake half as hard as she was. “It was nice meeting you.”

He said nothing, nor did he stop her when she quickly pivoted on her heels and darted away, but his gaze burned like strips of fire down the length of her retreating back.

She didn’t breathe properly until she was in the safety and sweltering heat of the kitchen. The tray made a loud cluttering sound as she dropped it down on the stainless-steel counter space. Bits of canapé scattered and lay forgotten as she bent over the mess, hands braced on either side and her head hung in shame.

“Get your shit together, Lena!” she hissed aloud to herself. She had to think of Jessie. Their future depended on her sticking to the plan. This was not the time to fall apart over some spoiled, rich kid.

“Lena?” Pablo came into the kitchen behind her and quickly set his tray down. He rested a hand on her back. “What happened?”

Lena quickly straightened with a shake of her head. “Let’s do this.” She checked her watch, set the timer. “Midnight. In the office off the corridor.”

He nodded after a moment of hesitation, but Lena didn’t stick around to hear the list of complaints she knew he was waiting to pull out. She grabbed a fresh tray of canapé and strode for the door.

There were very few glimpses of the actual birthday girl. Jessie stayed fixed on Nicole or Richard, or Jaxon’s hip. She seemed content there as if it were a routine. Her ease and comfort with the Westwicks prickled Lena’s apprehension; the transition would be harder if they had become a habit for the child. Lena had seen enough children torn from their homes and dumped into a new family and expected to assimilate or get sent back. Jessie would be different. She was still just a baby and they adapted quickly. Within a year, she would forget all about those people and accept Lena as family. That was the plan, at least.

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