And then she shocked him by nailing the truth.
"You," she said decisively, "are threatened by me."
Smith was stunned and recovered with a jolt of anger.
Who did this blue-blooded Barbie doll think she was? He was in the business of saving lives and she paraded around in fancy dresses at parties. He dealt with murderers and thieves and psychos for a living. He was threatened by her? Screw that.
"You've got a hell of an ego there, Barbie," he said laconically, "if you think you're scary."
"And you seem increasingly antagonistic. I wonder why?"
Smith jabbed his thumb in the direction of the door.
"You better go on back to your friends out there in la-la land. You'll be much safer with those Ken dolls than alone with me in the service corridor."
In response, she had the gall to smile widely at him.
Didn't she understand he was a dangerous man? An armed man, for Chrissakes.
And did she have to smell so good?
The countess shook her head ruefully. “You know, I really thought you were someone different."
Different? She got that right. "You bet your sweet ass I have nothing in common with you."
"Out there, I thought you were really in control, in charge of something."
"Honey, I'm in charge of the whole world."
"Really? So why are you so upset? We're just talking."
“We’re not doing anything. You're wasting my time."
She shrugged, an elegant lift of her shoulders. "You came back to me. No one is keeping you here."
As he towered over her, she raised her hands, the picture of innocence.
She turned back to the door and looked at him over her shoulder. "You also aren't very savvy."
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?”
"Sun Tzu, The Art of War, Some simple rules on human conflict. If your opponent is angry, irritate him." She shot him a glance from under her lashes while putting her hand on the doorknob. That big, relaxed smile of hers goaded him. "The instigation technique works particularly well, even with tough guys like you. Maybe especially with tough guys like you."
That did it.
In a surge of movement that had nothing to do with his conscious mind, Smith reached out and snatched her against him. She'd driven him to the brink of his self-control.
And one inch past it.
The amusement left her face as she braced her hands against his chest. "What are you doing?" \
"Too late to go back now, Countess," he growled. "You pushed the wrong man, too far."
He took her lips in a punishing kiss, his arms contracting and holding her so tightly, he could feel every inch of her. The sensation of her body against his was a total shock. Her soft contours fit into his hard angles seamlessly and a wave of lust burned through him. She was like harnessing pure lightning, like nothing he'd ever felt before.
As he slid his tongue between her lips, a moan drifted up through her throat and into his mouth. He felt her grip his shoulders as she stopped trying to shove him away and began to kiss him back.
And then his earpiece went off. The ambassador's car had pulled up.
Smith broke the contact abruptly, stepping back and breathing hard. She opened her vivid green eyes and stared at him, wordlessly.
He paused, soaking in the way she looked. Her lips were swollen and red from his kiss, her breath was coming out in soft beats, her cheeks were flushed. She was an unforgettable woman who would have to be forgotten. Otherwise he'd go insane, he was sure of it.
Smith turned away sharply and broke into a jog, knowing he better damn well be at that service entrance when the ambassador got out of his limo. He hadn't lost a client yet and he wasn't starting tonight.
Just forget you ever met her, he told himself as he pounded over the concrete.
Fat chance of that.
Dammit, why the hell did she have to follow him? And why hadn't he just kept going when she did?
Because it's just getting started between us, he thought grimly.
His sixth sense told him that their paths were going to cross again.
chapter
2
Cuppie Alston was dead.
The words had been bouncing around Grace's head all day long, from the moment Alfred had called her with the terrible news. She still couldn't believe what had happened, couldn't comprehend that her friend had been killed the night before while they had been at the ambassador's ball.
The surrealism of it all had been a terrible companion on her long drive from New York City to the Adirondacks. Over miles of highways, county roads, and then winding mountain passes, her mind had struggled with the tragedy, churning relentlessly over happy memories that were now tinted gray with grief.
How could this be real, she thought once again as she pulled up to a sprawling mansion on the shores of Lake Sagamore. She turned off the Mercedes's engine and stared into the darkness.