He grinned down at her. His finger drew a straight line down her spine, then gently sc.r.a.ped upward again. "A mythical creature from the deep. A siren that supposedly beguiles and drowns unsuspecting sailors."

"Oh, is that what I'm doing to you?" She laughed, amused at the thought of herself with a fishtail. She asked wickedly, "If I sing, would you come?"

"It depends," he told her.

"On what?"

"On whether I would know your true name."

She rolled over on her back and studied him. His morning stubble made him look like the proverbial pirate. "You're mixing up all your fairy tales," she chided softly. "That one was about a dwarf who would marry the heroine if she didn't come up with his name."

He grinned again. "d.a.m.n. That would be scary. The siren mermaid turning into a dwarf." His dark eyes glinted with humor. "I can add another twist. Once I find out your name the dwarf will turn into a frog. Then you will have to beg me to kiss you to turn you back into a mermaid."

Marlena closed her eyes. They were talking nonsense like lovers. This was bad. But underneath it, she saw through his attempt to get her to tell him what he wanted to know. No wonder T. wanted him. He was practicing NOPAIN on her without even knowing it. He wanted the one part of her she would never share with anyone.

"Tell me," he said.

She shook her head.

"Du Scheum knows."

She opened her eyes again. "That's different."

Wrong thing to say to a man playing lord of his domain. He pounced on her, hands on either side of her face, his eyes no longer sleepily s.e.xy. "No, I am different."

He positioned her like any dominant male intent on making a statement, his masculine weight trapping her, lacing her fingers through his. Marlena tried nonchalance. "Is that supposed to make me do your bidding? Tell you the magic words?"

"You'll tell me," he said confidently. His thighs were very warm as he settled between her legs. "One day." He slid into her without help, as if he knew her body by heart. "Of your own free will." He crushed down onto her until she could barely breathe. She wasn't afraid. For some reason it excited her to know he had power over her. His breath was hot against her lips as he whispered, "Outside my domain. You will tell me. And then you're mine."

He didn't give her time to respond, or to think, for that matter. His kiss was heatedly s.e.xual, curling her toes. Intense. Possessive. And his body was equally so as he showed her giving him control wasn't a totally bad thing. At least her body agreed. Too many times.

Later. Later she would figure it all out.

Chapter Nineteen.

"W hat are you trying to find?" Marlena asked, after hearing Steve mutter soft curses for the last half hour.

They had brought all the folders and doc.u.ments into the media room, arranging them on the large table in the corner. She discovered that Stash was hopeless with organizing data. He could spot something important, circle it with a big black marker, and that was it. Pages and pages of circled sentences, some with big black underlines and exclamation points. When she asked him what those meant, he had shrugged, saying that it just caught his attention. Something about feeling it in his gut.

She frowned. The man relied on gut feeling while a.n.a.lyzing data? That didn't make any sense. She decided to do the same, to see what his gut was thinking. Engrossed, she didn't actually hear his curses until they grew louder.

Steve glanced up. "Do you know how expensive opera tickets are?"

Puzzled, she asked, "Um...is that a trick question?"

He shook his head. "I'm looking at all those websites selling sold-out tickets. Who would pay that much to hear warbling?"

He had totally lost her. "You're looking at websites for warblers?"

Beckoning her to come over, he said, "Check out these prices."

She got up and went to stand beside him. His arm went behind her, hugging her hips as he caressed the rounded curve from waist to thigh absentmindedly. It was distracting. "Turandot?" she questioned again. The prices were astronomical, but this opera was a limited number of command performances by the best international stars. But she was still confused. "Okay, why are you checking out ticket prices for Turandot?"

"Do you like opera?" he demanded instead.

"Of course." She looked down at Steve. Somehow he didn't seem an opera-loving kind of guy. "Are we going to see Turandot?"

Steve sighed. "That's how I managed to get all the files so quickly without red tape. Cam got hold of Patty Ostler and sweet-talked her. Later she thanked me for the ticket to Turandot. I didn't even know how to spell it."

Marlena thought about it for a few seconds before amus.e.m.e.nt hit her. "I gather you owe Cam a favor and what he wanted was a date with this Patty Ostler, who is the opera fan?"

"Yeah." He grimaced. "Worse, I'm supposed to be going, too, because it would look suspicious to her if Cam just showed up without me."

She started to laugh. "Stash, honey, are you running interference for Cam?"

He flashed her a speaking glare. Hugging her closer, he turned and planted a kiss on the side of her belly. "No, we are."

His lips were soft, his tongue a sensual wet tickle. She ran her fingers through his hair, enjoying the feeling for a moment before saying, "You'll never get tickets at this late date. For Turandot it's impossible unless you want to pay those prices."

"That is beyond my budget, but I guess I'll have to, since I owe Cam."

He shifted her, so he could have access to her belly b.u.t.ton. Marlena sc.r.a.ped his unshaved jaw with her fingernails as she read the screen. Those prices were ridiculous. "Stash?"

"Hmm?"

"Let's go talk with Pierre."

He halted his sensual a.s.sault. "Why?" He sounded quite reasonable, despite the fact that his fingers tightened on her hip.

"Because I want to ask him about his activities yesterday."

"Don't you trust me?"

"Darling, stop acting like a jealous boyfriend. I'm only asking you out of team spirit. Do you want to come along, or not?"

He nibbled at the flesh just below her navel, making her suck in her tummy. "I am a jealous boyfriend, so of course I'm coming along. No man allows his woman to see her first lover alone."

She frowned. Boyfriend? His woman? It sounded so tempting, coming from his lips. "Okay, let me go make a call," she said, carefully sidestepping that issue.

"Why did you bring du Scheum up anyway? We were talking opera."

"Darling, Pierre owns part of the company producing Turandot. It'll give me a good excuse to call up Pierre. With his security problems these days, we need to be careful. And please be nice. Like it or not, you still have to play lackey when we are among certain people."

"Why?"

"I have an image to maintain, darling Stash." She patted his cheek. "Besides, it'd be good practice for you. If you're going to play liaison, you'll have to learn how to...um...be more sophisticated." She laughed at her choice of word.

He turned his face and rubbed his day-old stubble against her tummy none too gently. "I dislike sophisticated rich old men," he told her. Then he looked up and added, "And I definitely dislike opera."

Marlena smiled down at him. "It's going to be fun babysitting with you," she teased. He growled and pulled her onto his lap.

Sophisticated. Wealthy. Powerful. Pierre du Scheum was everything Steve wasn't. He probably loved opera. Du Scheum hadn't wanted to meet them at his big mansion. He didn't trust the place to be clean, he had said. Steve didn't blame him. It must be tough to own a house where he couldn't change his underwear without worrying about his safety.

Like it or not, Marlena had made a very valid point during the drive there. Du Scheum's life was in danger. There was at least one attempt that they knew of, and of course, if he wasn't the leak, there were people very close to him who were using his household and personnel.

When they'd arrived at the penthouse complex, Marlena had driven through without any ID checks. The guards greeted her by name. Steve bit back the sarcastic comment on his lips.

"It has to be the penthouse, of course," he remarked in the elevator.

Leaning back against the mirrored wall, Marlena crossed her arms. Her hair was tied back and the high collar of her deep red leather jacket accentuated her cleavage. It was open down the front, and her stance emphasized the low neckline of the black silk blouse underneath.

She was mocking him. Steve shrugged. He couldn't help it if he felt a little antagonistic right now. He took a threatening step toward her, bringing her laughing eyes to meet his. The elevator stopped and the doors opened slowly.

She brushed up against him on the way out and kissed him on the chin. He stared hard at her back as he followed. She was back in Marlena mode-tough and edgy. Bold. And s.e.xy as h.e.l.l. Another reason to dislike du Scheum. He had also seen the real Marlena underneath.

Steve wasn't jealous of du Scheum. What he didn't like was the older man's link to Marlena. There was a fond tenderness in the way his eyes lingered over her. Steve especially didn't like the way he held on to her hand a little too long. The hint of intimacy really, really p.i.s.sed him off. But he made an effort not to let it show. For now.

"Marlena, cherie, so wonderful to see you." Pierre du Scheum's cultured voice greeted them. He was immaculate in white, very much at home with the European decor of the room.

Steve followed the butler to the seating area by the large fireplace. The ceiling was high, with whitewashed oak paneling as relief. A portrait of two cherubic angels peered down from heaven above the fireplace. The silk wallpaper glimmered in the natural lighting from a large gla.s.s sliding door leading to the balcony. He was sure the view would be superb.

"And Mr. McMillan, how are you?"

"Fine, Mr. du Scheum," he replied. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Birman standing just by a connecting door between where they were and another room.

"Please call me Pierre. Make yourselves comfortable."

Steve had to smile. It was difficult not to. His idea of "comfortable" was kicking his shoes off and going shirtless, with a beer and a remote for television. He looked around. Nope. Couldn't see any TV set. He chose the small couch across from du Scheum and was glad when Marlena joined him there. She could have sat by the older man but she didn't.

Du Scheum's pale blue eyes gazed intently at them out of his lined face. He had the sharp bone structure of his Gaul ancestors, a long aristocratic nose, and thinnish lips that were smiling at the moment. The creases in his cheeks deepened, softening the harsh lines of his face. Sitting back, he pulled out a cigarette case from his white suit and opened it.

"Do you smoke, Mr. McMillan?" When Steve shook his head, du Scheum selected a cigarette and snapped the case shut. "A bad habit. Everyone should have one, don't you agree?"

"I suppose," Steve answered.

"Marlena can be one, Mr. McMillan."

The voice still held warmth, but Steve sensed a question behind the comment. Beside him he sensed Marlena turning to look at him, waiting for his reply. He glanced sideways, expecting to see amus.e.m.e.nt, but her blue eyes held only curiosity. Very softly he said, "A habit, but not a bad one."

Pierre du Scheum laughed. He lit his cigarette with a gold Cupid lighter from the coffee table. The little arrow shot out a flame. "Cherie, you finally found someone who can actually talk back."

"Oui, Pierre."

"And now you want to take him to see Turandot?"

"Steve is taking me, darling. The tickets are sold out, but of course you know that."

"Oui, and that's why you come to me." Du Scheum exhaled smoke through his mouth. "It's been a long time since you've asked anything from me, cherie."

Marlena uncrossed her legs and moved a little closer to Steve. "Not true, Pierre. I always ask favors from you."

"Not personal favors, not this kind. This is for pleasure, no? The others always involved business." Du Scheum turned to Steve again. "Do you know how difficult it is to have a woman who thinks of business before pleasure all the time? I gather you like opera, then?"

Steve could tell by the amus.e.m.e.nt in those light blue eyes that Pierre du Scheum knew very well that he had never been to a live opera before. "A friend of mine recommended it," he fabricated. "I thought Marlena might like it."

"Oh, oui, our Marlena loves opera. I took her to her first one. Do you remember what it was, cherie?"

Our Marlena? Steve could feel a burning sensation at the back of his throat. One more minute of this and he would pull Marlena out of there and buy those tickets from the Internet.

"Of course. A tragedy." Marlena's voice was calm and soft.

"There is nothing more tragic than a pair of dead lovers in opera."

A servant brought refreshments, and Steve quietly took a long sip of his c.o.ke. Was that a subtle warning?

"Turandot has a happy ending, Pierre," Marlena pointed out.

"But at a price, cherie." Pierre du Scheum tapped his cigarette against a crystal ashtray. "I'll see what I can do. Is that all?"

Steve felt Marlena's fingers playing lightly against his palm. He understood what she was trying to say, that she wasn't ignoring him.

"I didn't want to talk about business on the phone, Pierre."

"Of course."

"When will you entertain again?"

"Are you really going to sell something that belongs to me?" Pierre's tone of voice was the same, but Steve felt an undercurrent in the conversation. And still Marlena's fingers caressed him gently.

"It's information." Marlena gave a careless shrug. "And all information is for sale. I'll finish the sale and keep the money for myself. Mr. Cunningham went through a lot of trouble to get it."

"What if I want it back? It was on my property the other night."

"So it was, Pierre darling. I'm sorry you arrived a little too late." Marlena freed her hand from Steve's and leaned forward to pick up her gla.s.s of chilled Chardonnay. "Besides, it's going to look strange if you're out there hawking your own secrets. This way you can negotiate as many favors as you want before letting any buyers know that I have it. See, we both win."

Pierre du Scheum laughed. Amus.e.m.e.nt lit his features, and he regarded Marlena for a moment. Steve couldn't understand why he heard threats and yet the expression on the older man's face was tender, like a lover's. Ex-lover, he corrected grimly.

"You never fail to impress me with your business ac.u.men, cherie," du Scheum said. "Of course your plan makes sense."

"Mine does, but yours doesn't."