first he needed to make sure Darcy stayed out of the picture. He had seen the moment Felder had slid his business card into the palm of her hand. Since York could read lips—something he taught himself to do after his sister was born deaf—he knew that Felder had invited her on set tomorrow. He wasn’t sure what her response had been since Felder had been the one facing him, while Darcy’s back had been to him.
The man had also tried inviting himself up to Darcy’s room, which she apparently turned down since she had left the party alone. At least York was grateful for that. He felt a deep pull in his stomach and tried convincing himself that the only reason he was grateful was because he was looking out for her. After all, she was Ellie’s best friend, so that was the least he could do. Wanting to keep her out of the picture had nothing to do with the jealousy he’d felt when he’d seen Felder approach her. He assured himself that it hadn’t been jealousy, just concern. Besides, too much was at stake with this case, and the last thing he needed was Darcy screwing things up.
He was about to leave when he noticed Felder giving the nod to another woman at the party. He recognized her immediately—Danielle Simone, the leading lady in the movie they were filming. Malcolm was pretty convinced that Danielle was not in any way a part of the black market ring. Now York wasn’t so sure when he watched as she walked toward the beach with Felder following her, keeping a careful distance.
Interesting. He couldn’t help wonder what that was about. Were the two having a secret affair? His cell phone rang, and he picked it up. It was one of his men who was attending the party undercover. “Yes, Mark, I picked up on the two. Follow them from here, and let me know where they go and what they do.”
He clicked off the phone, satisfied his man was on it and wouldn’t let the couple out of his sight. York then turned toward the part of the hotel where Darcy’s room was located.
Darcy had showered and slipped into the hotel’s complimentary bathrobe when she heard a knock on her hotel room door. She frowned, wondering who it could be. It was way past midnight, although she was sure a number of people were still at the party having a good time.
She crossed the room to look out the peephole in the door, and a frown settled around her mouth. York Ellis. Why on earth would he visit her room, and most importantly, how did he know her room number? She knew for certain that she had not given it to him.
Knowing he was the only person who could answer that question, she tightened the belt around her robe before taking off the lock and snatching open the door. “York, what on earth are you doing here, and how do you know my room number?”
“We need to talk.”
“What?” she asked as she nearly drowned in the dark eyes staring down at her. She’d always thought they were such a gorgeous pair—although she would never admit such a thing to him or anyone else for that matter. She wouldn’t even confess it to Ellie. Nor would she ever mention how heat would course through her body whenever he stood this close to her. She’d noticed it that first time they’d met, which was why she had deliberately avoided him. The last thing she had needed at the time was to be attracted to a man after what she’d gone through with her ex-husband.
“I said we need to talk, Darcy.”
She stiffened her spine and glared at him. “Why? And you haven’t answered my question. How did you get my room number?”
He leaned in the doorway, and her gaze watched his every movement at the same time her nostrils inhaled his manly scent. Her heart skipped a beat when her gaze roamed over him. He looked good in a tux. Had he attended the party when he’d said earlier that day that he wouldn’t be doing so?
“I have ways of finding out anything I want to know, Darcy.”
The deep huskiness of his voice had her gaze returning back to his. Even leaning in the doorway, he was towering over her. For some reason, her gaze shifted to his hands. This wasn’t the first time she had noticed just how large they were. Heat spread throughout her body when she recalled the theory about the size of a man’s hands and feet in comparison to another part of his anatomy. Automatically her gaze shifted to his feet.
“Looking for anything in particular?”
She snatched her gaze up to him. He had caught her checking him out again. “No, I was just thinking.” That wasn’t a total lie. He didn’t have to know what she was thinking about. “And as far as you having ways of finding out whatever you want to know … well, that’s probably true, but you won’t hold a single conversation with me unless you tell me what it’s about.”
He rubbed his hand down his face as if annoyed with her. “It’s about Damien Felder. You were flirting with him at the party tonight.”
They were flirting with each other, but his impression of how things had been meant nothing to her. “I thought you weren’t going to the party.”
“I changed my mind.”
“And you know Damien?”
He shook his head. “No, but I know of Damien, which is what I want to talk to you about.”
There was no denying that York had her curious. “Very well, come in.”
She took a step back, and he entered her hotel room and closed the door behind him. He glanced around the room, and when his gaze returned to her, it seemed the intensity in the depths of his eyes was pinning her in place.
She drew in a deep breath, refusing to get caught like a deer in the headlights where he was concerned. So she tightened the sash of her robe around her even more and broke eye contact with him and beckoned him to the sofa. “Have a seat and let’s talk.”
She watched him move to the sofa while heat spread throughout her body. He looked too darn comfortable for her liking. There was something about the way he was sitting, with his arms spread across the back of the sofa, that made her want to slide down on the sofa with him, ease the tux jacket off his shoulders and run her hands across the broad width of his chest.
Where on earth had those thoughts come from? This was York Ellis, the one man she didn’t get along with, the one man who seemed to enjoy rubbing her the wrong way whenever their paths crossed. “What about Damien?” she spoke up and asked, reminding herself the only reason he was sitting on her sofa was because she was interested in what he had to say.
For some reason, the mention of Damien made him lean closer, cause something akin to anger to flash across his features. “You met him tonight.”
She heard the censure in his tone and wondered the reason for it. “Yes, and why do you care?”
Evidently her question stumped him. The irritation in his face was replaced by a slow smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Personally, I don’t other than the fact that you’re screwing things up for me and my investigation.”
She bit down on her lips as she struggled to keep a civil tongue. “What investigation?”
As he sat back, York drew in a deep breath, trying to calm the anger that was flowing through him. And it was anger he could not explain. What she did and who she did it with was her business. He shouldn’t care one bit, and he had tried convincing himself that he didn’t. But the truth of the matter was that he did. There was no way he would allow her to blindly walk into a dangerous situation.
“I
