His hand—a tightly curled fist—lashed out and struck the broken glass. Agony ripped through him as the skin over his knuckles shredded. But a few pieces of the cursed mirror had fallen and the pain was worth it. With a hoarse cry he hit the mirror again, this time slicing a deep gash into the side of his hand as more of the mirror crumbled away.
He watched, fascinated, as blood slowly dripped from his hand onto the carpet—decorating the long shards of glass lying facedown on the plush thickness. He grinned—he couldn’t help himself. It was such a beautiful sight.
His hand hurt and the bleeding continued, but he made no move toward the bathroom. Blood dripped, pooled in front of him, around him, and still he didn’t go for a towel. Instead he watched the crimson pile grow, watched a little bit of himself slowly leak into oblivion.
The headache was back, creeping up from the back of his neck to the top of his head—until the pain from his hand was but a small annoyance compared to the growing agony behind his eyes.
They were getting worse, coming more often, until he’d almost been unable to work last week. But control was everything, and he refused—refused—to let the pain take over his life. He’d have her soon and then everything would be okay again.
When the bleeding slowed to a trickle, he walked to the bathroom and absently wrapped a towel around his wounds. Such a shame to cover up all that beautiful blood, but he had an appointment tonight he didn’t want to miss. It wouldn’t do for him to show up a bloody mess. It wouldn’t do at all.
He crossed to the bar, poured himself another scotch. Wondered what Serena was doing right now. Pondered whether or not she’d found his surprise—or better yet, if that bayou rat had found it.
It hadn’t been easy getting that close to her things without being seen, but he was more than pleased with the result of the extra effort. Hurting her wasn’t his intention—at least not yet—but still, there were rules. She had to pay for her duplicity. Pay for letting that animal, that laborer, lay his filthy hands on her.
Tonight was just a warning, but if things continued this way—the punishments would be much worse. For both of them.
Serena was his and he would have her. And once he did, no one would ever take her from him again. He’d kill anyone who tried.
* * *
Serena studied herself critically in the hotel mirror. She looked good. Really good, if she did say so herself. She had been a little leery when the boutique manager had proclaimed it perfect for her, but with her makeup and hair done, she could see that the woman had been right. Though the raspberry silk was a little low-cut for her taste. She tugged at the halter bodice for the third time in as many minutes.
What had possessed her to buy a new dress? Two new dresses. Especially since she had two perfectly good ones still packed in her suitcase. When she’d packed for the trip to San Diego, she’d had every intention of wearing her old cocktail standbys. But when she’d gone to unpack last night suddenly they hadn’t seemed right.
She snorted before she could help herself. Meaning they weren’t beautiful enough—sexy enough—for Kevin. She wanted to wow him, to make his mouth drop open and his c**k get hard at his first glimpse of her.
She couldn’t stop herself from contemplating her reflection for a few long seconds. Who was this woman who had invaded her body and when was the real Serena Macafee planning on making an appearance? This was so unlike the real her—dressing up for a man, planning to seduce him. The real Serena didn’t have incredible sex with the subject of her assignment. She didn’t wear red lipstick or red dresses. And she certainly didn’t leave her hotel room without a stitch of underwear on. Unless a red garter belt counted?
With a sigh, she spritzed cologne at the hollow of her neck, at her wrists, and after a moment of debate, between her thighs. Who was she trying to fool anyway? The best part of wearing this dress was imagining Kevin peeling it off her in a few hours.
A knock sounded at her bedroom door. “Serena, are you ready?” Kevin asked.
“One more minute,” she called, reaching for her jewelry bag. She heard Kevin prowling the sitting room of the suite, and she couldn’t blame him. She was the one who had insisted they leave early. Really early. He thought she was crazy, but she had plans for the extra ninety minutes. Big plans.
She slipped the pearl necklace her mother had given her for her twenty-first birthday around her neck, grateful that it suited the dress. Her earrings hadn’t and the saleswoman had talked her into spending a lot more than she had planned to on a pair of ruby and pearl chandelier earrings that were totally wrong for her.
But they didn’t look wrong, she admitted, taking one final glance in the mirror. They made her look sexy and just a little bit wild. Of course, that could also be attributed to the raspberry Jimmy Choos she hadn’t needed to be conned into buying. The second she’d laid eyes on the five-inch sequined stilettos it had been love at first sight. Her feet would be dying by the end of the night, but it would be worth it. No pain was too great for these shoes.
She reached for her purse, started to slip her cell into the small evening clutch. She hesitated, her hand frozen in midair over the small phone. He’d called again, twice while she was shopping and then once more as she was doing her makeup. He’d left messages the first two times, spewing obscenities, demanding to know where she was. By the time she’d accidently answered his third call, he had calmed down, had tried to keep his voice seductive and his words sweet. Somehow she’d found that more disturbing than the threats.
Taking a deep breath, Serena turned toward the door without picking up the phone. She didn’t want anything to ruin her night with Kevin, particularly explanations about an obsessed and unknown caller.
With a sigh, she grabbed her wrap and stepped into the sitting area of the suite the Matthias Corporation had booked for Kevin. He was on the balcony, leaning negligently against the iron rails as he watched the boats cruising the bay.
Her ni**les peaked at her first sight of him. He’d been gorgeous in dirty jeans and bare feet and even more beautiful naked. But nothing could have prepared her for her first glimpse of his public persona. She’d seen pictures, of course, but they didn’t do justice to him. She wasn’t sure anything could.
His suit was perfectly fitted—black with a barely visible silver pinstripe. Beneath it he wore a silver silk shirt open at the collar. His glorious hair was pulled back into a short ponytail and he’d traded his signature gold hoop for a small diamond stud. Her mouth watered before she could stop it.
Telling herself to get a grip on her out-of-control libido, Serena crossed to the open door and murmured, “I’m ready.”
“Good.” He turned and the look on his face was worth all the damage, and more, that she’d inflicted on her poor, unsuspecting American Express.
Kevin clenched his fists and shoved his hands into his pockets. Tried to turn away, to focus on the ocean view. Anything to keep from grabbing Serena, throwing her on the nearest bed and saying to hell with the museum opening. And to hell with the dedication and gallery opening tomorrow. As good as she looked, there was no way he’d let her out of his bed for the next twenty-four hours. Maybe forty-eight.
Her dress, what there was of it, was red—the same red as her nipples, he thought, and then regretted it as he felt himself harden uncontrollably. The top tied behind her neck, halter-style, and bared an amazing amount of her beautiful br**sts. He couldn’t stop himself from staring and was rewarded when he saw her ni**les harden beneath the silk. He wanted to kiss her, to put his mouth over the thin fabric and suck those luscious ni**les into his mouth. He wanted to—Kevin cleared his throat, forced his eyes to follow the rest of the dress, though it cost him to look away from her br**sts. Of course, the rest of the dress wasn’t any better. While it fell straight to just above her knees, it was tight enough to mold every delicious curve. Definitely tight enough to give him a heart attack.
Her hair was tousled, wild, like it was after he’d made love to her. Her eyes were dark and mysterious, her lips a slick red that begged to be kissed. Delicate earrings dangled from her lobes, shivering gently with each breath she took. Layers of pearls circled her throat, enhancing its delicate lines. And the thin, ice-pick heels inspired more fantasies than he could give voice to.
“You look—” Amazing, fabulous, sexy as hell. None of the words came out—he was tongue-tied for the first time in his adult life. “Good.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I look … good?”
He licked his suddenly dry lips, reached for her with a hand that had suddenly turned unsteady. “Good enough to eat.”
Serena’s eyes traveled over him, lingering at his broad chest and then at his obvious arousal. “I’m looking forward to it.” A quick grin flitted across her lips before she turned to get her camera bag.
His hands itched to touch her and he waged a hard-fought battle to keep them to himself, but he managed to control himself. Barely. Her excuse for a dress was cut all the way down to the top of her ass, leaving her delectable back completely bare. Her golden skin glistened and his mouth actually watered.
To hell with control. He would spontaneously combust if he didn’t get his hands on her soon. Placing a hand at the small of her back, he was rewarded by her slight shiver, by the humming awareness that swept between them.
She leaned into him, briefly pressed her body against his as she placed her lips next to his ear. “I want you so bad,” she whispered, before turning back to check her equipment.
His whole body tightened, his instincts on red alert as he watched her bend over her camera bag, her glorious ass swinging in rhythm to music only she could hear. He reached for her, determined to feel her body pressed against his, even if only for a minute. Her sudden scream distracted him and he watched in shock as she shoved her camera bag away even as she stumbled backward into his arms.
He caught her, and swept her behind him as he looked for the unseen threat. “What’s the matter?”
She pointed a shaky finger at the bag. “Sc—scorpion.” She took a shuddery breath. “Really big scorpion.”
“What?” he demanded incredulously, his eyes sweeping across the carpet surrounding them.
“There’s a scorpion in my camera bag!”
He settled her on the couch behind him and reached for the bag. “How’d it get there?” he wondered aloud as he stooped to pick up the bag.
“I don’t know, but it’s there.”
He turned the bag over, shaking its contents gently onto the floor. Then watched, in shock, as two cameras and numerous rolls of film fell to the carpet, followed quickly by the hugest, ugliest scorpion he’d ever seen.
“Kevin!”
“I’ve got it.” He brought his shoe down firmly on the poisonous arachnid, not at all concerned that he was squishing it into the expensive carpet.
When he was assured the thing was dead, he picked up her camera case and shook it vigorously before searching every pocket and compartment thoroughly. Serena remained quiet as he searched, her face pale as she studied the squashed scorpion.
“Where was it?” he asked grimly as he crossed back to her.
“In the side compartment.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine how it got in there.”
“When’s the last time you opened that part of the bag?”
She shrugged. “Yesterday? The day before? I keep extra rolls of film in there, so I’m constantly digging through it.”
“Well, I’d love to know where you picked it up,” he commented. “There aren’t any scorpions in the bayou, so it had to be somewhere here or in one of the airports.”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head again as she began to put her equipment back into the case. “It’s barely been out of my sight.”