In each photo they had of her, she’d been wearing variations on the same conservative boxy suit that did nothing for her body.
She was petite; her bio said she was only a few inches over five feet, no weight given, but from the picture and her clothing she appeared slightly thick, no curves, just straight lines in the bland suits she seemed to favor.
Her somber face stared back at him, unsmiling in the picture. Her large, widely set brown eyes were obscured behind a pair of old-fashioned round glasses that seem to dominate her small face. Although her deep golden brown complexion was flawless, that looked to be about the only thing attractive about her.
Then his eyes had gone to her mouth.
Despite the look of untouched innocence that seemed to cling to her, her mouth was pure decadence, ripe and full.
Even without smiling, her lips had a natural curve in the corners that made her otherwise bland appearance reach out and grab him by the balls.
Despite her average looks, he’d found himself drawn to the photograph over and over.
Then, he’d seen her in person.
Damn.
The photograph hadn’t come anywhere near to capturing her unique beauty. Although her skin in the photo appeared to be smooth, her features even, there was nothing unique about her, save that decadent mouth of hers.
But in person…
In person her skin glowed, shone like rich dark honey. Her eyes, which had been obscured by the old-fashioned glasses in the picture, were large, slightly slanted in the corners, and a deep chocolate brown. Bedroom eyes.
And then his gaze had rested on her lips…God. Her lips were so lush and full his imagination had taken flight, with images of suckling her full lower lip into his mouth playing hell with his libido.
Not to mention the woman was nothing but luscious curves.
The first time he’d seen her, she’d been with Adam Quick. It had been easy to spot the pair.
Nightly, at the same time that Nick told him surveillance had shown them coming to the club, he’d stationed himself in a prime position to observe them without being noticed, patiently waiting to get a visual on them since his return from D.C. and his meeting with Nick.
Like most crooks, they followed habitual routines, choosing the same booth when they came to the club, tucked away in a corner of the room.
With animation, the man did most of the talking, and although his tone was too low to hear, Demetri guessed he was talking mostly about his own interests.
Although she feigned attention, Demetri caught the woman’s eyes drifting away, usually toward the dance floor, with an almost wistful look on her gamine face.
With an irritated look, Quick would rudely snap his fingers in front of her face to get her attention, and the woman would smilingly murmur something and pretend interest in what he was saying.
He’d been able to continue to observe her without her knowledge. Although Quick hadn’t been able to hold her attention, her face, even in repose, was animated, her eyes seeming to sparkle without the glasses obscuring their beauty.
When she’d come into the club tonight, without Quick, Demetri had seized the opportunity.
She’d worn her emotions on her sleeve. She was angry, hurt…and, if he his instincts were right, she wanted to prove something.
Yeah, definitely wanted to prove something, as the memory of her opening her legs and giving him a hint of what lay beneath the conservative straight-lined skirt was any indication.
Demetri shook his head. He didn’t know what had happened, but he didn’t give a shit, not really.
No matter how sweet she looked, how intriguing, how…different than what he’d expected, she was nothing but a crook. He’d use everything in his psychological and sexual arsenal to bring her down.
Demetri yanked open the shower door with more force than was necessary and turned on the water. Not bothering to wait until it warmed, he stepped into the stall.
He raised his face toward the multifaceted showerhead, pulling his hands through his hair, allowing the cool water to rain down on his upturned face.
A plan began to form in his head.
“God, what am I doing?” Gaby murmured aloud, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, clenching and unclenching her clasped hands as she stood in front of the elevator door in the deserted hallway at the back of the club.
She’d been standing there for at least thirty minutes, her mind a chaotic whirl of conflicting emotions.
She unclasped her hands and brushed her fingertips back and forth over the cool metal bars of the antiquated elevator, contemplating what she was about to do with a man she didn’t even know.
Ready for whatever, however…any delicious thing he had in mind, she was game.
In her current state of mind she was down for just about anything.
And she knew that was a dangerous condition for a woman to be in. There was no telling what could happen.
That thought alone sent her heart into overdrive.
She glanced down at herself, wishing she’d worn something more seductive than the navy blue skirt, matching blazer, and sensible shoes.
After she’d come home she’d been tired; the only thing on her mind had been to pull off the itchy hose and crawl into bed, fully clothed.
However, at the time she had no idea her plans would so drastically change.
Instead of crawling into bed with a good book and a glass of wine, she’d walked in and caught her boyfriend in bed with another woman.
And now, here she was about to do something daring, unlike anything she’d ever done before. Intent on allowing a man she didn’t know to sex her up like there was no tomorrow. If only for one night. All she wanted was one night of selfish pleasure to help her momentarily forget the mess her life was in.
And the man she’d selected for the job was waiting for her upstairs. Sweet. Gaby fervently prayed he could deliver on what his name, his heated eyes, his sensual mouth, promised. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and blew out a calming breath before reopening them.
Her face settling into lines of determination, she inserted the brass key into the lock and pulled back the door. The groaning, creaking noise it made as she pushed the iron cage open seemed unnaturally loud to her, despite the booming music filtering into the hall from the club.
She glanced around to see if anyone was watching and shook her head at herself, chastising herself for being so ridiculous.
No one was watching her, and if they were, well…who cared? She was a grown woman of thirty years. If she wanted to have anonymous sex with the hottest man she’d seen in a month of Sundays, it was nobody’s business but her own. She checked her purse for the condoms she had thrown inside and
