tasseled pasties. The smile plastered on her too-red lips was directed right at him.
At Artie’s nudge, Harrison pasted an answering smile on his own lips. After all, the groom and his best man were the center of attention tonight even if Harrison didn’t want to think about the coming wedding. What would this roomful of well-meaning friends say if they knew the bride-to-be was showing signs of second thoughts and was pregnant with another man’s child?
Were they making a mistake?
He forced the thought aside. From the start, Zoe had been more than a hired assistant. Liking and respect had quickly matured into the sort of friendship that generally took years to form. He trusted Zoe the way he trusted Artie and Carter. They were family to him, and family took care of their own.
It was bad enough that Zoe had watched her baby’s father shot down in front of her, but now his killer wanted her dead as well. Harrison was not going to let that happen. By marrying Zoe, he could offer her the protection of his wealth and see to it that her child was not born a bastard as he had been. It was the right thing to do. The only thing to do.
The dancer reached out, lifted his glass from the table and turned it to place her lips exactly where his had been a moment before. She took a small sip and smiled seductively. The room cheered as she bent down, tassels shaking, and kissed his forehead.
He managed a wink and she giggled.
The other men called out suggestions. Even Carter unbent from his formidable lawyer persona to look mildly amused. Harrison kept his smile pasted in place and wished for a speedy end to the evening. The dancer turned her attention to Artie. He dutifully reached out to put more money in her G-string. In the process, her elbow caught Harrison’s glass and it tipped. The liquid splashed across the table.
One of the scantily clad servers appeared to mop up the damage, fluttering eyelashes that nature had never designed. His gaze drifted to the bar. He had the distinct impression that his bartender was disgusted. Their gazes locked briefly in sympathetic accord before she turned away and handed a new drink to one of the servers. The woman promptly headed in his direction.
Harrison abruptly realized what he should have known from the start. The woman wasn’t merely a bartender. He’d stake good money she was one of Artie’s rent-a-cops for the evening. That explained her constant scrutiny of the crowd. The only way security could mingle was to pose as one of the bartenders, waiters or dancers. Of that group, only the bartenders and Artie’s live-in housekeeper were fully clothed.
Harrison surveyed the room with a more jaundiced eye before gazing at his new drink with disfavor. What did Artie think was going to happen in here? With all his little security gadgets, his place was like Fort Knox.
A glance toward the bar found the dark-haired bartender intently focused on him with an expression he couldn’t decipher. He picked up the drink, tipped it in her direction and pretended to take a sip. She inclined her head in acknowledgment and he immediately lowered the untouched glass to the table. When he looked back a few minutes later, she was gone.
Harrison straightened up. The blond dancer shook a tassel against his ear. Whatever had been holding the tassel in place lost the battle. He hoped he hadn’t sighed out loud.
THE TRILLING OF HIS CELL PHONE pulled Harrison from a dream he couldn’t remember. More asleep than awake, he swiped at the insect biting his forearm as he tried to roll over to answer the summons. A muffled curse brought him all the way out of sleep.
An ominous shadow loomed over him, backlit by the light flooding in through the open bedroom door, which he clearly remembered closing. He had a second to make out an indistinct outline before a slim, firm hand clamped over his mouth.
“Be quiet,” a silken voice urged. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Harrison threw his weight against the body behind that hand even as his cell phone stopped its musical demand.
“Help me!” the feminine voice demanded.
A second person surged forward, cursing the cell phone and the person on the other end. There was a crunch followed by a harsh expletive as the other person grabbed for his legs. Together, they attempted to press him into the mattress.
“I stepped on the damn syringe and broke it!”
“Never mind. Hold him down.”
A knot of fear spiked through him. A syringe, not an insect. Even as he registered that both of his attackers were women, he realized they were making no attempt at silence. Something was very wrong. Numbness was taking hold of his extremities. A dark cloud fogged the edges of his mind.
They’d drugged him!
Panic lent him strength despite the weakness flooding his body. He swung his hands at the shadowy shape nearest his head, feeling only momentary satisfaction as he connected. The woman inhaled sharply, but didn’t release him. She fell across his torso, effectively blocking him from taking another swing.
Harrison bucked hard. His legs tangled in the thin blanket and sheet. Wooziness spread with devastating speed.
“Stop fighting!” the woman ordered. “We’re not going to hurt you!”
“Drugged!”
“Yes. Give it a minute.”
He swore, struggling all the harder, fighting the drunken feeling as much as his captivity.
“How long does this stuff take?” the second voice demanded.
“I don’t know. Hold him still!”
The first woman sprawled across his bare chest as the sheet and blanket slipped lower. She was trying to use her weight to pin him to the bed. Her skin gave off the faintest scent of coconuts. He shook his muzzy head, bucking harder. One bare leg came free of the tangled sheets. The second woman let go as he managed to kick her in the face.
“Ow!”
More curses filled the room as she swore viciously. Her light-colored hair swung about her face.
“That hurt! He’d better not have left a bruise. I’ve got a job on Monday.”
“Will you hold him still!”
“I’m trying.”
With the last of his fading strength, Harrison jerked his body hard to the side and rolled. He carried the first woman and the sheets and blanket to the floor with them. They bounced off the nightstand, sending the lamp and alarm clock crashing down on top of them. His head connected sharply with the corner of the nightstand. For just a second Harrison thought he was going to black out.
Neither moved for a stunned instant. He’d landed on top of the woman, one hand resting on a soft, firm breast beneath the thin material of her black jacket.
As their gazes locked he recognized her—the bartender from the party. She squirmed against his length. Unaccountably aroused, he squeezed the breast beneath his hand. She burst into motion, shoving at him with all her might. The second woman came around the bed and grabbed his shoulders from behind. He twisted to fight with her and the world blurred and faded away.
“JAMIE! Are you okay?”
Jamie
