and modern furniture upholstered in various shades of white. Nick had told her almost two hundred guests would be present, and Sam decided that he’d been right. The men were in tuxedoes, the women sporting lavish jewels, some in long evening gowns, like Becca. White-coated waiters were passing champagne in expensive flutes and hors d’oeuvres on sterling silver trays. It took Sam a second to decide that Maclean was not in the reception area. Was he already in the vault? She shivered. She was more than ready to find out. Her pulse beat a bit more swiftly now.
“Did we pass?” Kit murmured.
“I think he’s suspicious.” But she didn’t give a damn about their host now.
“Did you have time to read up on the project?”
“No, and I intend to avoid Hemmer. With this crowd, I don’t think he can get away for a tête-à-tête anyway. Are you okay? I’m going to explore.”
“I’m fine. Be careful. Hemmer stinks.”
Sam smiled and drifted off into the crowd. As she did, a flash of bright pink caught her eye. She turned and saw Becca making her way alone through the crowd—no easy task, as she was constantly greeted and congratulated. Sam turned to locate Hemmer. She finally saw him, still close to the front door, chatting with the mayor and a famous woman news anchor with sinking ratings. Sam turned back to Becca, just in time to see her slip from the reception room, past two big security guards.
Now what did that mean? Becca did not seem like a party pooper. She managed to find Kit. “I need a diversion so I can canvas the rest of the place.”
“You can create a better diversion in that getup than I ever could.”
“Stop selling yourself short,” Sam said, meaning it.
A moment later, Sam was posed not far from the door Becca had exited, where the two big security guards stood. A woman not far from the doorway cried out, “Someone just stole my purse! Someone just ripped my bag from my hands!”
As the two security guards rushed to her, Sam slipped into the hallway. It was quiet within, the lights lower. An elevator faced her, which would go up to the Hemmers’ private rooms. She walked swiftly past it, her lipstick now in hand. The case was actually a camera. She started taking photos as she passed a library and a media room. She did not think she’d run into Becca—she was pretty certain she’d gone upstairs.
She passed an office and came to the end of the hall. A glass-enclosed, Olympic-size indoor lap pool faced her. On her left was a huge steel door.
She had found the vault.
Maclean’s power beckoned, tangible and hot, but he was not in that vault. Sam took more photographs, aware that she was being videotaped—those thumbnail-size video cameras were everywhere. She was careful not to get too close, setting off motion sensors and alarms.
When she was finished, she put the camera away. Maclean was around, but where? And where was Becca? She’d obviously gone upstairs—but Sam didn’t think she’d gone to change her shoes. “Such a naughty girl,” she murmured. She would be surprised if she didn’t find them together, she decided. Maclean would probably think it amusing to screw his host’s wife.
Sam went quietly back the way she had come, her senses in overdrive. She did not rush—she would find him, sooner or later. Hunting put her at the top of her game. The elevator was set far enough back from the reception that she could easily get to it without being noticed. It was whisper-quiet, too. She stepped inside, her gaze on the backs of the guards, but neither one turned her way. She pressed the single button there. The elevator moved up to the building’s top floor.
She felt the hot sex before she saw it. She felt him. The air was somehow thicker and humid upstairs. Testosterone filled it. Lust thickened her. Most women would drop everything to be with Maclean, and she could hear Becca now, in the throes. Sam paused. The door to a bedroom was ajar. Becca’s cries became deep, uncontrollable sobs. Her own heart was thundering, her body tight. Sam pushed open the door.
She’d forgotten how damn good-looking he was. How unbelievably sexy he was. Becca wept in her climax, sprawled on her belly on the bed, her skirts pushed up to her back. Maclean stood behind her, fully dressed. He was driving hard and deep, steadily, his face strained, at once hard, cold and almost ruthless. He was intent on his own satisfaction.
Becca was out of all control. Ian Maclean was not.
She wet her lips, compelled to watch. How had she forgotten those gorgeous features? Most beautiful men looked effeminate. Not Maclean. In spite of those long-lashed gray eyes and that perfect, almost pretty nose, he had a hard jaw, and high cheekbones. But he was more than that face. She’d never seen him without his clothes, but she knew his body was all long, hard muscle. And mostly, there was his sex drive. Sam had recognized a kindred spirit, in that one way. Maclean was oversexed and probably insatiable.
He’d be hard to please.
Becca’s sobs and moans filled the room. Maclean kept driving, not making a sound. Sam knew Becca had been easy to seduce. She’d bet just about anything that Maclean had never been given a run for his money.
She breathed harder. A terrible tension consumed her now. Well, there was one woman he couldn’t seduce.
Maclean suddenly made a harsh sexual sound, his only one. And he looked up at her.
The moment their gazes locked, Sam realized he wasn’t surprised to see her. In the next second, she saw that he wasn’t blinded by lust. His gaze was gray and clear. As she stared at him, he began to smile, as if he had a secret he really liked.
Sam’s heart turned over, hard.
“Ye took yer time,” he murmured, stepping away from his gasping lover.
Sam was trying to comprehend the fact that, just like at Loch Awe, he’d been expecting her. But her every coherent thought vanished as he reached for his gaping trousers, because her gaze veered to his hands.
Her thundering heart slammed. She forgot to breathe.
He slowly grinned, somehow jerking the zipper entirely up.
He wore a silver ring there.
She’d seen body piercings, of course. Just not there—and not like that.
“Something got yer tongue?” he mocked softly.
She choked and her mind came to life. “Having fun? Because I hate to be the one to ruin your private party.” But she wanted to wipe the perspiration from her cleavage and brow. Her body was rioting. So much for worrying about her sex drive.
“Hot?” His gaze followed her fingers as she wiped the moisture away. “Surely ye’ve seen a cock ring before.”
Sam felt her fake smile vanish. “That was some welcome, Maclean. Too bad I’m not into voyeurism.” She tried to be flippant. “Nice jewelry.”
His brows lifted as he sauntered toward her. “Admit it. I make ye hot, Sam, an’ ye loved watching.”
Sam realized that Becca was scrambling off the bed and racing toward the door. She swallowed, Becca’s exit giving her a much-needed pause. “It was a decent show,” she said, recovering a hair of her composure. “Aren’t you going to go after
