“What’s happening to the brand?” Anna relaxed a little, encouraged that the conversation had been steered away from the undercurrent of sexual tension that had been ricocheting off the Guildhall walls for the last few hours.
“We’re just taking hits in the media, and some investors I’d counted on have backed out from deals for no apparent reason. Properties I want have suddenly been sold to someone else.” He snorted softly. “Usually to someone named Jefferies.” After a moment, he added, “I seriously think there’s a leak in my company.”
A shiver danced down her spine. “A leak?”
“A spy. A mole. A…someone feeding inside information to competitors. To the Jefferieses.” He turned to her, his expression fierce. “I’m going to find out who it is and ruin them.”
White lights burst behind her eyes and it wasn’t stars or romance blinding her. It was the hard, cold smack of her past hitting her in the face.
“A spy?” She heard the shakiness in her voice.
“Don’t sound incredulous. It happens, you know.”
Oh, she knew. She knew firsthand. She knew so well it hurt. “I’ve read about things like that.” The only problem was that when she read about them, her name was in the articles.
Her name—not the man who’d committed the crime. Not Michael Montgomery, a man she’d thought she loved and trusted. A man who’d used her to get into the computer system of her boss, another CEO.
The night air suddenly seemed stifling and the back of her neck burned with perspiration. If Parker ever learned of her past, of the accusation—however wrong—that she’d let her lover access files from her boss’s computer, then she would be fired. Of that, there was no doubt.
Who would ever give her a chance to explain? Her old boss hadn’t. The media hadn’t. She’d just had to run.
“All it would take is one person who has knowledge of my deals to slip the information to one of the Jefferieses,” he continued, his voice suddenly sounding distant as blood thundered through her ears.
“Do you think…someone has?”
“I’m certain of it. Jordan and Emilio Jefferies weren’t going to come to this gala. They weren’t on the list. But then, wham. They show up and no one knew I was coming but a handful of Garrison employees.”
Including her. At his words, her stomach tightened, her fingertips tingled, her head spun. Only this time, her reaction had nothing to do with attraction, but everything to do with the fear of detection.
Of course, she was innocent. Totally and completely and wholly innocent, and the charges against her had been dropped. But the stain was still there.
Could a man who’d just admitted he was ruthless, cutthroat and competitive even see past that stain? Could he ever see beyond the fact that she had let one other corporate rival into the inner workings of another CEO’s desk…albeit unknowingly?
“It really bothers me,” he said, still staring into the night.
She had to get the subject changed, fast.
“In fact,” he continued, “I’m more determined than ever to find the leak.”
She had to get him off course.
“And with the change in my father’s—”
She reached up and pressed her lips to his cheek. He froze, then slowly turned toward her. “What are you doing, Miss Cross?”
“What do you think I’m doing, Mr. Garrison?”
He broke into a slow, sexy smile. “What did you call me?”
She lifted her face in invitation, forming the words she knew would derail his train of thought. “Mr. Garrison.”
He closed his mouth over hers instantly, kissing her exactly the way he did everything…thoroughly, expertly, with masterful control and brilliant timing.
Parting her lips, she allowed his tongue to explore her mouth. Chills and heat warred over her skin as he glided his hands over her bare back, burrowing his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck.
She tilted her head, and he deepened the kiss, a tender moan vibrating his chest. He pulled her closer and murmured her name against her mouth.
“Let’s go back to the hotel,” he whispered in the kiss. “Now.”
Okay, she had definitely changed the direction of the conversation.
He stood, pulling her into him. “I want you,” he told her, confirming that with a full-body press that left no doubt he was aroused.
She melted into the kiss, torn by a secret delight that she’d caused that hard ridge against her stomach, and the secret horror that he’d find out why.
She inched back, catching her breath. “Parker…I…”
“Unless you’d rather talk business some more,” he said with a playful kiss on her nose.
“Not on your life,” she said. And, God knows, she meant it.
Four
When Anna sent a signal, she made it crystal clear.
Somehow, Parker knew that would happen. He knew if he bided his time, easing her slowly into a comfortable, sensual, intimate place, she would give him the go-ahead to take that kiss he’d been thinking about all night.
He’d been fighting arousal since she’d opened the door—hell, since he’d found her in the bathroom the other day. Every dance made him want to touch more; every time she laughed or asked a question, leaned gently against him or just sent him a subtle look of pure lust, his jaw slackened for some mouth-to-mouth contact with hers.
He thought he’d imagined the occasional admiring glance in the past, but tonight, Anna’s defenses were down. And her interest was up. Way up.
“The limo’s right over there,” he said, nudging her in that direction. “We don’t need to stay a minute more.”
A glimmer of uncertainty lit her eyes.
“Unless you want to,” he said, placing one finger on her chin to turn her face to him. He trailed that finger down her throat, into the dip between her collarbones, and then lower, barely touching, barely skimming her flesh.
Her eyelids fluttered and her lips parted.
“It’s entirely up to you,” he added, dropping close to her ear to whisper the words and nibble her lobe.
She arched slightly with a quick breath. Then she closed her eyes and nodded so slightly, he almost missed it. With a firm hand on her back, he walked toward the waiting limo, and addressed the driver.
“We’ll go directly to the Ritz, John,” he said as he climbed in the car behind Anna. Although it might be fun to play in the limo while they tooled around London for an hour, he didn’t want her in a car. He wanted to get her back to the suite and directly in his bed.
He would, however, have to keep her warm on the way back.
Settling in next to her, he offered champagne, but she declined. He touched a button and filled the car with the soft strains of Andrea Bocelli’s new-millennium version of classical music and her eyes sparkled.
“I love this music.”
“You love music, I noticed.”
She smiled. “Broadway tunes are my favorite, actually.”
“West Side Story?”
Even in the dim light of the car, he could see her flush. “I’m sorry about that, again.”
“I’m