And she was betting that gun wasn’t tucked securely in her bag. “A lady traveling alone has to protect herself.” Especially when she was dodging trouble.
“It’s time,” Drake told her.
Did he realize that his thumb was slowly rubbing against her inner wrist? Because she did, and that teasing contact was making her all kinds of nervous. “Time for what?”
“The truth. You put on your clothes, then you come to the den and you tell me everything I want to know.”
Not going to happen. “Or what?” He’d already said he wasn’t planning to call the cops on her. So as far as she was concerned, he had zero leverage.
The smirk was gone from his face. He looked…cold then. Hard. Dangerous.
Don’t fall for the bad boys, don’t!
“You don’t want me for an enemy, Jasmine.”
“I thought that you already were my enemy. Didn’t realize I had a choice in the matter.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Okay, now that scared her. Her chin started to lift.
“But one way or another, you will be answering my questions, and if you lie to me…that will be a mistake I punish you for.”
Then he freed her wrist. Only she felt like he was still touching her. Her skin was hot and sensitive.
“You’ve got five minutes to dress.”
“And you sure like giving orders.”
He flashed her a wide grin. Wow. The man had a really nice, sexy smile.
“Time’s ticking…”
He shut the door.
Her gaze darted around the room. There had to be a way out of there. A way to escape Drake…
Because that man wouldn’t like her secrets. She knew because Jasmine hated them, too.
Drake was waiting in the garage. He stood in the back, keeping his body hidden as Jasmine snuck inside. He almost smiled. Did she even realize how predictable she was? She’d ducked out the back of the house, circumventing his security—a nice touch—but he knew the woman would need a ride for her escape off his property.
His garage had, of course, been her most likely destination. So he hadn’t bothered waiting inside the house for her.
He’d just made himself comfortable out there.
Her shoulders were hunched as she made her way to the line of cars. Which one would she pick? The Corvette? The Lincoln?
His lips firmed. Oh, hell, no, the woman was not planning to take his Porsche.
She was.
She slipped inside the car, then disappeared beneath the dash. He stalked toward her as anger pumped in his blood. “If you mess up those wires, I’ll—”
Her head shot up, and she screamed.
He took that opportunity to haul her out of his Porsche. That car was his favorite, his favorite in Vegas, anyway.
“I didn’t plan on us talking out here,” he murmured as he held her. “Princess, you missed the den by about fifty feet.”
She jerked against his hold. He didn’t let her go.
She still smelled like vanilla.
He still wanted a taste.
“I didn’t miss your dang den. It took me five minutes to get out of that house.” She sounded disgruntled enough that he wanted to smile. Again.
Then he remembered that she’d been intent on wrecking his baby. “You don’t touch the wires, got it? You don’t damage the Porsche.”
Jasmine rolled her eyes at him. “I’ve been hot wiring rides since I was fifteen. Your precious little baby wasn’t in any danger from me.” Her eyes narrowed and she appeared insulted. “I’m a professional.”
“Are you now?” Ah, so there was secret number one. “A…professional.”
Her cheeks flushed a dark red but her eyes—they seemed to darken even more with…pain? “I’m not a whore.” She pulled away from him and started heading back toward the house.
He stared after her a moment, aware that he felt…shame. “I didn’t think you were a whore. I’m…sorry.” His words hadn’t come out right. He’d meant to taunt her, not accuse her of—shit.
She glanced back at him, frowning. The light hit her hair. Rolled over her skin. Made the woman seem to glow. “Did you almost choke as you just said those words? Because it sounded like that apology got stuck in your throat.”
It had, a little bit.
She sighed. “You like trouble, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t.”
Jasmine gave a slow shake of her head. “Then you need to just take me out of this place. Let me get away from you, and then we can both never look back.”
He took his time closing the distance between them. Mostly because he was enjoying the view of her in the sunlight. “You made a mistake, you know.”
“Seems like I’ve made a few of those,” she groused.
Dammit, she kept making him want to smile. What in the hell was up with that? “You interest me.”
Surprise rippled across her face. “You make me sound like some kind of weird science project. You know, when it comes to talking with ladies, you rather suck at it. How, how do you have so many chicks throwing themselves at you?”
That should be obvious. “I’m rich.”
“And sexy.” She glared at him. Like he was the one who’d committed a crime. “Bad boy appeal.”
Uh, okay.
She pointed at him. “You need to keep your hands off me.”
He wanted his hands all over her. “Why is that?”
“Because I don’t want to get involved with you. It would be a mistake, for us both.”
He took her hand. Yes, he was touching her. He liked doing it, and she didn’t pull away. Because she liked his touch?
They didn’t speak again until they were near his house. Drake nodded to a guard who was watching them. “Did he even see you slip out?” Drake asked her, curious because the man had his narrowed gaze on Jasmine.
“No, I think he was taking a potty break.”
Laughter broke from Drake.
“I had to pick my moment,” she confessed.
He tugged her into the house. Shut the door. Instead of heading to the den, he took Jasmine into his study.
Once they were there, Jasmine glanced down at her hand. “You can let go now. You’ve got me.”
Slowly, he dropped his hold on her. “Do you…hurt?”
He should’ve asked her that before.
Again, surprise flashed across her face. What? Had no one ever asked the woman how she felt?
“Just a little ache,” Jasmine said as she walked around the study, poking and gazing at different things. “Nothing to worry about. I’ve had plenty worse.”
Drake didn’t like hearing that news. “How many times have you been stitched up?” He eased into the chair behind his desk. His hands flattened on the wooden surface.
“Maybe three times. Everyone has accidents.”
Bullshit. “That was no accident last night.”
She put down the hourglass that she’d been examining “You’re right. That was my mistake. I should’ve moved faster.” Her breath expelled on a sigh. “So there are accidents and there are…non-accidents.”
Locking his jaw, he motioned to the leather chair in front of his desk.
She didn’t sit.
The woman just liked to be difficult.
“Who are you working for?” Drake asked her.
“Myself?” Yes, she made it sound like a question, but then she nodded, as if she’d reached an important decision. “From here on out,” Jasmine said softly, “I am.”
She was making his head ache. “Who sent you to the Arrow?”
“I came on my own. I figured I had a better shot at getting to you there. Your house here…” She waved her hand. “It was too isolated.”
“No, you knew I kept my files there and you wanted access to them.”
Her fingers tapped against a bronze statue. The woman was touching everything. But me. “If you know all the answers, why ask the questions?”
Because he didn’t have the answers for the big questions. “Tell me who sent you.”
“So we can both make his hit list? I don’t think so.”
She looked too confident and in control. The woman should have the sense to fear him. She didn’t. “Why aren’t you afraid of what I’ll do to you?”
“Bones can be broken, flesh can be cut. Been there, done that.”
He shot to his feet.
“I survived those non-accidents,” she continued, her voice quiet, calm. “So I figure I’ll survive whatever you do to me, too.”
His hands had clenched at his sides. “Who hurt you?”
“Lists are long…and boring. The past is over. Let’s just stick to the here and now.” She turned her back. Gazed up at a painting of wild horses on the wall. “This is hideous, by the way. Why would you ever pick this out to hang it up in your study?”
“I didn’t. It came with the house.” She was trying to distract him. Nice.
He was ready to distract her, too. So he threw out the question that he knew would get a response. “Who interested you the most in that photo?”
He saw her shoulders tighten. “What photo?”
Drake sighed. “Each time you lie to me, I’ll expect something from you. An apology, of sorts.”
She turned to face him. “I don’t understand.”
Drake closed in on her. Pinned her between him and that freakishly ugly painting. “You just lied. Make it up to me.”
“H-how?”
“Kiss me.” He didn’t think she would. He just—
She leaned up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.
“No, princess, not like that.” He tipped up her chin and he took her mouth. Deep, thorough. Rough. “My way.”
Her breath rasped out against him.
“Every time you lie to me,” Drake told her, aware that his voice had thickened, “you pay for it.”
Her gaze searched his. “I probably should confess…I lie a lot.”
“Then you’ll pay…a lot.”
Her hands pressed to his chest. But she didn’t push him away. Instead, it was more as if she were trying to get a feel for him. Testing his strength.
“Who sent you to the Arrow? To me?”
“You’re a man with enemies. Maybe you can figure that part out yourself.”
“What’s your role? Seduction?”
She pushed against him. Hard. A shove. But he didn’t step back so much as an inch.
Jasmine swallowed. “I told you before, I’m not a whore. Don’t ever make the mistake of calling me that again.”
“There’s a difference between seduction and prostitution. From where I’m standing, seduction seems to be one of your key talents.” She sure had made him want her easily enough.
Red lit her cheeks again. “Don’t.”
“You used your body to get to me before.” When she’d seemed so eager for him back in his private lounge. “Don’t like being called on it now?”
Her lashes lowered, shielding her eyes. “I wasn’t going to have sex with you.”
“But you knew I wanted you. You used that. And I’m betting you’ve used men’s desires against them plenty of times.” The thought had his muscles clenching. He didn’t want to think of any others in Jasmine’s life.
“Weaknesses can always be exploited.”
His hand slid down her neck. Her pulse raced frantically beneath his fingertips. “You’re too delicate for the danger you seek.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
No, in her case, they weren’t. A twist of his hand, and she’d be dead. Maybe he should tell her about his past.
But…
No.
“I don’t know why you’re wasting time with me. Don’t you have a flight today?” Jasmine asked him as her pulse kept racing beneath his fingers. “I remember reading someplace that you were working on some big casino deal in New Orleans.”
“The eyes do help you play innocent,” he allowed as he studied her. “But that innocent routine doesn’t really work for me.”
Her gaze held his. She seemed to come to some decision as she told him, “Take some advice from me. You need to pay attention to what’s happening down in New Orleans. You’ve pissed someone off, and that particular person isn’t going to stop until he gets his pound of flesh from you.”
His fingers tightened around her throat. “A name, Jasmine. That’s what I want. Neither of us will leave this room until I get it.”
“Elvis Presley.”
He growled.
“That’s a name. My favorite all-time performer.”
He didn’t move.
“Be careful what you ask for, you just might get it.” Her pulse kicked up even more. “Do you know what will happen to me…if I talk?”
“Nothing.”
Her lips twisted, but her smile was sad.
“I’ll protect you,” he added. With his resources, protecting her would be easy.
Her smile slipped. “No, you’ll throw me away. Because you’ll have what you need from me. I know how it works. I’ve been a tool before.”
“What were you supposed to steal from me?” Drake demanded as his patience fled.
Her breath whispered out. “The plans for the casino expansion in New Orleans. The projections for your future projects in Biloxi. You’ve got some competition…someone who wants to cut you off at the knees.”