his only childhood scar; the skateboarding accident had required a zipper of stitches to sew up the Frankenstein gash on his hipbone.
And, while she was there with his pants down, he wouldn’t object to her searching out not only the erogenous zone he shared with all men, but his other. The one women loved to discover—at least those who took the time to learn exactly what he liked in bed.
Okay. Here he was, standing in a darkened hallway working on a hard-on. Something had to give. Twice tonight Macy had brought him to the point of wanting to get off and she’d done nothing more than run him over with her clever little mind.
And wasn’t that what made a woman worth knowing? If she knew how to flex her mental muscles, she could be guaranteed a man’s appreciative attention to the rest of her body. So why was he standing here playing with himself when he could be upstairs playing with her?
Or at least seeing how many of his game points he could rack up this evening while he had her to himself, before she’d had time to recover from the party or shake off the chemistry they’d stirred. He wasn’t an underhanded cheat, but neither was he above playing all odds in his favor.
Besides, he had nowhere to be tonight, and the idea of going back to the office held less appeal than it had an hour ago. Macy was alone. Lauren had left with Anton, which meant Leo was footloose as well.
He and Macy had taken turns moving their pawns all evening. She didn’t have to know his return was a calculated advance on her queen. And if she learned more than he wanted her to know, well, that was a tactical risk he was willing to take.
He could afford a forfeit or two. He could afford whatever it took to beat Macy Webb at any game of her making.
4
ANOTHER GAME NIGHT BITES the dust.
Macy pulled one bra after another from the shower rod in Lauren’s bathroom, testing for dampness between her fingers and the palm of her hand. Dry enough were the ten she hooked over her forearm. The last two she moved to the towel rack.
Lauren could hardly object. She was gone for the night. Totally ignoring every best-friend rule ever written, she’d gone home with Anton, lucky dog, leaving Macy alone to deal with the leftovers of the evening’s insanity.
Oh, well. Tonight the work would be welcome. In addition to the physical chores, mentally sorting through the events of the evening would keep her plenty busy until time for bed.
Should she run out of questions to ask herself about the way the scavenger hunt had unfolded, or have trouble coming up with answers, well, there were always toilets to scrub. Floors to wax. A balcony to sweep clear of cobwebs and fallen leaves.
Then there was the mural on her bedroom ceiling that needed another fish or two. A dolphin. A turtle. A mermaid to give the room a bit of oomph. If Macy reached total desperation, she’d sit down under the sea, make a list and have it ready for when her artistic best friend came home.
Anything to keep her mind off the fact that, with Lauren gone, the loft was empty. Macy was alone.
Back to the scavenger hunt, she thought, flipping off Lauren’s bathroom light. How practical, really, were the game’s dynamics for her readers? If not for the sailing vacation, Macy’s guinea pigs would no doubt have expressed even less enthusiasm at having to devote time to an activity that came with no guarantee of, well, anything.
Strangers playing would at least be getting to know potential dates. This group was only in it for the prize, not the possibilities. The game was too long; that was it. The true challenge would be to find the items in one evening. From several members of the opposite sex. Forget the one-on-one, long-term assignment. The lists could be distributed as the guests arrived. No coupling, no teamwork.
Actually, though, now that she thought about it, she could present both options. The longer game would provide a broader field, giving players time to test their partner’s boundaries. And the shorter version was the perfect arena in which to rack up rapid-fire points, boom-boom.
She liked it. Liked it a lot. A two-fer. Now to figure out how to get two columns out of one idea. Ha! As if Sydney in a million years would go for that idea. It was probably a good thing Macy wasn’t a solo entrepreneur. She’d be forced to fire herself for living by the motto that all work and no play made Macy a dull girl.
The whir of the loft’s elevator motor caught her off guard, and she scurried from Lauren’s corner of the loft. If Lauren and Anton had already gotten into it over the game, Macy wanted to be out of her best friend’s throwing range.
But when the freight car ground to a stop, when the outside gate rattled opened and the inner door followed, Lauren and Anton were the least of Macy’s worries.
Because standing inside the metal cage, one long-fingered hand propped on the wall, the other braced against a lean waist, head lowered, shirt cuffs buttoned, tie snug to his throat, stood one incredibly gorgeous corporate attorney.
Leo Redding looked up, and Macy’s stomach thudded to her feet. A man shouldn’t be able to do to a woman what this one could do with his eyes alone. Gingerly, she retreated.
Boldly, he advanced, bringing into the room not only his uppity attitude, but an air of such style and class Macy itched to lick him, er, to muss him from his GQ hair to his toes shod in rich black Italian leather.
The heavy metal door rolled shut behind him. He pulled the hinged grate to a close along its metal track.
Alone. The two of them. Together on her turf.
The devil jabbed a pitchfork at her shoulder. An angel sang sweetly from the opposite side. It was so hard choosing between naughty and nice.
“Lost your way, I see,” she said.
He shook his head. “Only my ride. I came here with Anton, remember?”
“And he took Lauren with him. Leaving you stranded.”
What a weaselly excuse. She knew what Leo wanted. The cheater. Thinking he could learn her scavenger hunt secrets if he caught her alone, with her guard down and…ten demi-cup, push-up bras hung over her arm.
Oh, good humiliating grief.
“I suppose you need to use the phone to call a cab?” She directed a pointed glance toward the leather cellular case attached to his waist.
Shaking his head, he moved farther into the room, assessing the equipment in the entertainment center, thumbing through the selection of CDs, crossing to the balcony and sliding open the plate-glass door before he answered. “I have a phone.”
“Well, then, I assume you came back for the obvious.”
“The obvious?” He tossed the question absently over his shoulder.
“To get started on your scavenger hunt.” She waited for a denial, but he stepped outside, giving her nothing but a very nice view of his backside, from wide shoulders to long legs and his really great ass in between.
“You’ve got a terrific view from here.”
“You can say that again.” She muttered the comment under her breath and followed. Leaning a shoulder against the wall on one side of the door frame, she
