this charade with the diplomat? And why return to País Vell now?
Unless she was after the same thing Rafe was …
His heart missed a beat. He studied the enticing swell of her hips, the gleam of her naked back, and his brows gathered into a frown. Could she be after the historic ring? But why would she be? She didn’t need the money. She didn’t collect antiquities. And she’d never shown much interest in the La Brigada separatists who claimed the seventeenth-century signet ring—a symbol of their lost homeland—was theirs.
Rafe didn’t care about the ring, either. And nothing could have tempted him to risk his precious freedom except one thing—the chance to atone for the past.
But none of that explained Gabrielle.
She glanced over her shoulder, shot the diplomat a heated smile, and Rafe’s hold on his temper slipped. Regardless of her motives, he knew one thing. That ring was his. If by some odd twist of fate she had come here to steal it, she was out of luck.
She finished pouring the wine, then swiveled toward the bed, holding the glass. Without warning, she glanced up, and her gaze collided with his.
She went stock-still. The color slowly leached from her face. His anger steadily building, Rafe folded his arms and scowled back.
Several seconds dragged past. Gabi stayed rooted in place, gawking at him from across the bed. He deliberately severed the contact, then raked his gaze down the length of her—over her full, ripe breasts and narrow waist, back to her stunning face—and his resentment spiked higher yet. Because if she tried to interfere with his plans …
She gave her head a swift shake, as if to pull herself out of her daze. Then she slipped back into seductress mode, curling her lips into a practiced smile. But her hand trembled, sending wine slopping onto the bed, proving she wasn’t as unaffected as she tried to pretend.
Good. She deserved to sweat after the callous way she’d dumped him.
Leaning forward, she handed the diplomat the glass of wine. He gulped it down, then reached out to put it on the bedside table. “Lesh get that dress off,” he slurred.
“Right.” Her voice came out breathy. She stepped away from the bed. Reaching for the straps on her ballgown, she sliced her gaze back to Rafe’s.
He didn’t move. Stark tension arced in the air. He raised a brow in challenge, wondering just how far she’d take this game. Not that he cared. Gabrielle had meant nothing to him for years. And if she wanted to perform an impromptu strip tease, who was he to complain?
Unless this was some sort of trap …
The muscles of his belly tightened, more doubts piling inside. Had she expected him to show up here? Had she been sent here to waylay him? But that made no sense. She couldn’t have known his plans. And while she might be an expert seductress, she hadn’t faked her surprise.
But then why not sound the alarm? Why not tell the diplomat he was here? What game was she trying to play?
She moistened her lush lower lip with her tongue. The gown’s thin straps slithered down. Rafe’s gaze dropped to the scraps of fabric clinging precariously to her breasts, just as he knew she’d planned. But if she thought she could manipulate him through his hormones, she was wrong.
She paused, as if to heighten the anticipation.
Damned if it didn’t work.
Scowling, he cursed his weakness around this woman. He knew better than to let her suck him in. She’d led him on for years, slumming it with him while she waited for a more respectable man to come along.
A sudden snore cut through the air.
Gabrielle abruptly straightened. Rafe spared a glance at the diplomat now passed out cold on the sheets. Still scowling, he jerked apart the drapes and strode across the room, determined to get answers fast. As he neared, Gabrielle’s perfume flooded his senses, that unique blend of jasmine and vanilla taunting his nerves.
He stopped and braced his hands on his hips. She tilted her head back to meet his eyes. “Well, hello, Rafe.” Her husky voice rumbled inside him, making him angrier yet.
“Gabrielle.” He bared his teeth in a feral smile.
She swayed back, her own smile wavering, the pulse speeding at the base of her throat betraying her unease.
It was about time she started to worry.
Because the real game was about to begin.
Chapter 2
Gabrielle gaped at Rafe in dismay, watching everything she’d worked for crumble apart. Bad enough she’d had to return to País Vell. Worse that she’d had to drug the American diplomat, who’d have one heck of a headache when he finally came to. But now the moment she’d dreaded for three torturous years had arrived—she’d come face to face with Rafael Navarro, the man she’d once desperately loved.
And at the worst possible time. She wasn’t prepared. She needed time to erect her defenses. And she couldn’t afford to mess up this mission. This was her one opportunity for vengeance, to finally bring down the killer who’d murdered her father, the man she’d worked tirelessly to incriminate for the past three years.
Rafe’s gaze skewered hers, making her pulse sprint. She pressed her clammy palms to her thighs, determined not to let him see how thoroughly he disrupted her nerves. It didn’t help that he was still outrageously gorgeous with his darkly chiseled face, a sorcerer’s black eyes, that thick shock of straight black hair.
Unabashed masculinity radiating from every pore.
He leaned his tall, sinewed body even closer, his furious eyes boring into hers. Stark grooves bracketed his sensual mouth, slashing through the razor stubble covering his jaw, and she battled the urge to step back.
He was still sexy, still potent. Still dangerous. And he still had that aura of menace that had always kept her enthralled. He’d called to the wildness latent inside her, luring her to forbidden pleasures, tempting her to shed society’s prohibitions, and live.
She inhaled, willing away the memories. She couldn’t think about the past. And she couldn’t worry about Rafe—not with everything she’d worked for at stake. Feigning a poise she didn’t feel, she pasted on the knowing, jaded expression she now used to keep men safely at bay.
“Imagine meeting you here,” she drawled, injecting a note of bored amusement into her voice. “I thought you’d given up the life of crime.”
His black eyes flashed. A muscle twitched in his iron jaw, and another whisper of unease slithered down her spine. Rafe wasn’t a man to toy with. He never obeyed the rules, never caved to another’s will. And he was impossible to control.
“Once a thief, always a thief, right, Gabrielle?”
Her face burned at the memory. She’d used that excuse to break off their engagement, aiming at his most vulnerable spot. But she couldn’t tell him the truth—that she’d had to drive him away. It was the only way she could make sure he survived.
“So why
