“The job needs to be done tonight.”
“Why so fast? I might need time to plan—”
“My client is willing to pay twenty-five thousand if the job is done before daylight tomorrow and if the murder looks like either rape or robbery was involved. Take your pick.”
“I don’t mix business with pleasure. I’ll make it look like a robbery.”
“The death should be quick and painless. Is that understood?”
“Yeah, sure. I can slit her throat or shoot her in the head. Does your client have a preference?”
The tall, slender man shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I’ll need half up front and the other half when the job is done.”
“I have the entire amount, in cash, in this briefcase,” the man told him. “And I also have a gun in my pocket.” He slipped his hand into his pocket and clutched the weapon, showing the imprint of the pistol through the material of his jacket.
“Give me the particulars. Who you want killed, where I can locate them, any problems I might encounter.”
“Her name is Audrey Bedell Perkins. She’s staying at the Palm Beach Classico Hotel, in suite number six-ten. She’s a petite redhead. Early thirties.”
“Somebody hates this bitch enough to want her dead, but they don’t want her to suffer. Got it.” He held out his hand for the money.
The guy hesitated, then set the briefcase on the edge of the bed, flipped it open and dumped the cash. “If the job isn’t done by daybreak—”
“It’ll be done.” He eyed all those beautiful greenbacks. “If the lady’s alone, it’ll be a piece of cake.”
THE BAND PLAYED a soft, jazzy number, giving the dancers a break from the fast, frenetic beat of the last tune. Dom pulled Audrey into his arms, leading her into the slow, intimate dance. They had shared drinks at the Classico Hotel’s Mermaid Bar before deciding to take her rented convertible and find a place where the music didn’t stop at midnight. The Beachcomber stayed open until dawn, giving customers live music, a dance floor and a bartender who made a mean margarita.
“Having fun?” Dom whispered in her ear.
“Mmm…” Resting her head on his chest, she cuddled closer.
He nuzzled the side of her face, then kissed her ear. She shuddered. “Are you about ready to head back to the hotel or do you want to stay and close the place down?”
“Let’s finish this dance before we go,” she said.
“Whatever you want, honey.”
“Whatever I want,” she repeated in a sleepy, little girl voice.
He held her, loving the feel of her, the scent of her. She was small and slender yet nicely rounded. The girl’s got meat on her bones, his father would say. The more time Dom spent with Audrey, the harder he found it to believe most of the things he’d read about her in the Dundee report he’d been given. Yes, she was guarded, didn’t seem to trust easily and apparently loved to party, but he hadn’t seen any evidence of her being a first class bitch. He suspected that beneath that I-can-take-care-of-myself exterior strength lay an inner core of kindness and vulnerability. If his gut instincts were correct, somewhere along the way, someone had hurt this woman, hurt her badly.
When the dance ended, Dom escorted her off the dance floor and out of the club. Once outside he held out his hand.
“Keys, please.”
She giggled. “Don’t you trust me to drive?”
“Not after two glasses of wine and two strong margaritas.”
She rummaged around in her small handbag, yanked out the car keys and handed them to him. “You’re right. All you had was a sip of one of my margaritas and a glass of wine about—” she lifted her arm and stared at her wristwatch. “Four hours ago. My gosh, it’s nearly three-thirty.”
“So it is.” He draped his arm around her shoulders and steered her into the parking lot.
When he opened the convertible door for her, she paused, lifted her arm and whirled the bracelet-type watch around on her wrist. “Do you know how much this watch cost?”
“I have no idea.” He helped her into the passenger seat, then kissed her on the tip of her nose.
She giggled again. “It cost two thousand dollars. It’s real gold, you know.”
Dom grinned. She was slightly loopy, after two glasses of wine and two margaritas. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the lady wasn’t used to drinking.
“What’s two grand to you, honey? Your father’s a billionaire, isn’t he?” Dom slid behind the wheel.
She reached out, grabbed his arm and glared at him. “Is that why you like me? Because—”
Acting purely on instinct, Dom cupped her face with his hands and kissed her. No preliminaries, no sweet nothings. He’d been wanting to kiss her all night. She responded instantly, returning the kiss, opening her mouth, inviting him in. He took full advantage, probing, seeking, passionately loving her mouth. When they were both breathless, he ended the kiss, but didn’t lift his head. Instead, he slid his hands down either side of her neck and onto her shoulders, then spread hot, nipping kisses across her cheek and down the side of her neck.
“Dom…”
“Hmm…”
She pushed him away and they stared at each other.
“Could you stay on in Palm Beach another day?” she asked.
“Possibly. If I had a good reason to stay.”
The corners of her mouth lifted in a fragile smile. “I’m not going to ask you in when you take me to my suite, but I’d very much like for us to have lunch tomorrow and then dinner tomorrow night.”
“I’d like that, too.”
When he started to kiss her again, she shoved against his chest. “It’s late. I think we should go back to the Classico now.”
Dom covered his heart with his crossed hands and sighed dramatically. “Lady, you really know how to hurt a guy, don’t you?”
She laughed. “And you, Dom Shea, know how to tempt a woman beyond reason.”
“Oh, honey, if only that were true.”
“Believe me, it is.”
Dom removed his jacket, lifted her just enough to slip the jacket around her shoulders, then kissed her cheek. “It’s pretty chilly out here.”
She hugged the coat around her. “Thanks. You really are a nice man, aren’t you.”
Dom reached across the console and buckled her into her seat belt, then latched his before starting the engine. The cool morning air acted as a slap-in-the-face, making Dom fully alert as he drove back to the hotel. He wondered what Sawyer would say if he stayed on in Palm Beach another twenty-four hours. Would his boss buy the excuse of typing up loose ends on the assignment? If not, he could send the Dundee jet back to Atlanta and simply take a personal leave day.
He knew better than to become involved with a married woman, even on a temporary basis. But there was something about this particular woman that had grabbed him from the moment he saw her and whatever it was, it wouldn’t let him go.
THEY STOOD OUTSIDE Audrey’s suite, wrapped in each other’s arms. He lifted his head after