Marlena sighed. Obviously it was time to distract him again. She ran a hand down the front of her dress, knowing that his eyes would follow as she pretended to smooth away some imaginary wrinkle by the brooch. She fingered the jeweled piece. She ran a suggestive hand down her hip, adjusting the skirt. The elevator door opened to the underground garage and without a word, she stepped out first, making sure she brushed against him as she pa.s.sed.

She smiled furtively again, pleased to have interrupted his thought process. His footsteps behind her were somehow erotic to her ears, as if he were hot on her heels. Just after she slid into the pa.s.senger side of the Porsche, he leaned in, his expression scorching as his eyes traveled down her body. She inhaled the woodsy cologne he wore, mixed with a certain scent of desire. He was fast. He'd already figured it out.

His eyes pierced the dark interior of the car, knowledge and surprise mingled with sensual awareness. "That long pearl necklace," he muttered. "Lady, you aren't just wearing a Tweety Bird tattoo under there."

Marlena scooted a little away and flashed Steve an innocent smile. It was wiser to be quiet, letting his imagination do the work. If she pushed too hard, he could see through her scheme, and where they were going, she needed to constantly be on guard, to be in control of the situation. She was there to be seen and doc.u.mented, as well as to make sure everything was going according to plan.

Turning the radio on, she chose a station playing light jazz. Steve's silence didn't bother her at all. In fact, it was one thing about him that fascinated her. Most people were usually deep in thought or concentrating on the task at hand when they were quiet, but she always felt that Steve was constantly on alert, even when he lounged lazily on the sofa. He seemed very at ease doing nothing, as if he spent a lot of time sitting alone, yet it wasn't a relaxed, detached easiness caused by a lazy lifestyle. Even sitting in the middle of a women's boutique, he gave the impression of a jungle cat watching his prey.

So the million-dollar question was-was Steve McMillan stalking her? Or was he just a p.a.w.n in this game she chose to play? Tonight she would have some answers.

She studied him surreptiously. This wasn't just s.e.xual attraction. She had dated good-looking men before and had only enjoyed their company. She'd certainly never had the urge to make them breakfast, she thought with a touch of self-mockery. Even during her last attempt at making a relationship work, she'd never played housewife. Of course, that had been the problem. She just couldn't see herself in that role, and compromise was out of the question. She'd put the lives of some friends in jeopardy because she wanted things to work out, and she'd vowed ever since to be alone. It was better not to be emotionally dependent on others in her line of work.

She checked her newly painted nails with distracted interest. It wasn't good to want a man so badly. It would only end up getting her killed.

Chapter Six.

S teve made a mental note to one day drive up here in the daylight and check out the neighborhood. They were in one of the more exclusive neighborhoods by the Potomac River, the kind of houses surrounded by walls and electronic gates, with boat docks in their backyards.

Not that he would be shopping for a pad here, he mocked. Du Scheum's pocketbook far exceeded the pay of a navy SEAL. Even with the extra money he was getting for this new transfer, he'd probably never be able to afford land a quarter the size of this-he looked around-place. He looked at the beautifully lit driveway with its swaying trees as they drove on.

Uniformed servants opened the car doors as each limousine and expensive car inched its way to the front steps of the beautiful mansion lit up by dozens of colored globe lights. Steve stepped out of the Porsche and waited for Marlena while a uniformed servant helped her out. He frowned when her smile brought a blush to the young man's face as he tried not to stare too hard at the front of her gown. It didn't help to think about those pearls not far away.

"Thank you, madam," the usher said as he accepted his tip. "Please let me know if you need anything else. Please keep this card so we can know where we parked your car."

Marlena's smile became wicked when she reached Steve's side. "Lackey," she teased, knowing that it would get to him. "I think I'll hire him next time."

Steve glowered down at her. "Better buy a cemetery plot. He'd bore you to death and have to bury you."

"Oh, and would you mourn my demise, Stash darling?" She laughed, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm after adjusting the light wrap folded across her arm. The night air was cool against her bare skin, but she knew it would be warm inside the mansion. "Would you come visit me once in a while? Put some flowers on my headstone?"

She had meant it as a joke but was surprised at how solemnly they regarded each other for a second. He turned and touched her right cheek with the back of his hand. It felt like regret.

"I'll do that," he said, his obsidian dark eyes for once flat and expressionless.

They walked through the grand arches into the hallway, already filling up with arrivals. She smiled to break the tension. "Something to look forward to, then," she said wryly.

Steve looked around him with interest. She wondered whether he recognized anyone there. These people weren't exactly anonymous. She had attended enough of these parties in the last two years to a.s.sume the mantle of the elite, where everyone needed only a first-name introduction with her, but the first time was a revelation, a culture shock to those who never understood the thin line between black and white. Here people ordinarily separated by social position rubbed elbows, kissed each other like old friends, and talked of business and politics over drinks and cigar.

That is, she thought, a.s.suming Steve McMillan recognized the presence of the likes of an infamous arms dealer such as Max Shoggi talking ten feet away from a UN amba.s.sador. Or the likes of her, she added with a little irony, smiling with familiar secrecy at the royal prince of the kingdom of Desah, who silently toasted her with his flute of champagne.

"What do lackeys do at these things?" Steve asked, light sarcasm in his voice, looking at the royal prince with a frown. He recognized him from the recent news about Desah's new business contract with U.S. firms amid news of a coup. How well did Marlena know him? "Is there a lackey lounge area for us to sit and exchange notes or something?"

Actually there was, but she wasn't going to let this man stray too far. Not when he looked like that. "What kind of companion did they get for me?" she wondered aloud, with mock exasperation. "Didn't they ask for prior experience? Whatever did you say to get hired?"

"I told them I was good at kissing," he deadpanned.

She sighed, shook her head, and started walking toward the main room. "I suppose you're good at that," she conceded. A waiter appeared from nowhere, offering her a gla.s.s of champagne from his tray.

"Suppose? I'll be happy to help you be very sure about it. All doubts removed, I promise. As long as I find out where Tweety Bird is."

The conversational murmur in the huge room somehow enhanced the intimate invitation in his words. His hand moved down the small of her back, tracing her spine suggestively. Stay focused, Marlena reminded herself. She needed things done in an orderly fashion, so that she would be in constant control of the very charged situation they were in.

"I'm beginning to think it's the other way around," she said lightly. "It's me who is good at kissing, and you just can't get enough of me."

His eyes glinted down at her, settling on her lips. "Let's make a bet."

"Another one?"

"You let me kiss you the way I want tonight."

The rush of excitement through her was heady. Like the champagne in her hand. "And?"

"And by the time I'm done, you'll show me your Tweety Bird."

Marlena laughed. He did have a way with words. And he was doing exactly what she wanted, keeping his thoughts focused on her. "That doesn't sound like a bet to me." She took another gla.s.s of champagne from another waiter pa.s.sing by. "What if you lose?"

Steve took the champagne gla.s.s from her and drank deeply before handing it back. Not exactly an appropriate lackey thing to do, he admitted, but she didn't say anything. Instead she tossed the rest off, her blue eyes meeting his over the rim of the gla.s.s. He knew she would accept his challenge. The gla.s.s of champagne sealed the pact. Later. Tonight. Those sultry eyes promised things that were going to cause him discomfort for the next few hours.

She had placed those thoughts in his mind to tease him. He knew Tweety Bird wasn't in a decent place. It couldn't be, because there weren't any tattoos on her exposed body in those outrageous black things the other night. That left very few possible places. A pearl necklace worn nowhere near the neck. The erotic images were going to haunt him all night. He tipped her head back with a forefinger and gave her the merest wisp of a kiss at the corner of her lips. He felt her shiver, and a mocking smile tugged at his lips as he straightened.

However, for now he would watch and learn as much as he could about how Marlena Maxwell got things done. The important thing was to keep a step ahead of her, make sure nothing happened without his knowing it.

Cam said that this was her shtick. She mingled among the wealthy and the infamous, the influential and the notorious, with a familiarity that suggested she knew most of them. What he couldn't understand was how these people ended up together in the same room. Cam had given him a thorough briefing about what to expect, the usual crowd at these functions, but he still couldn't accept it. He had questions for which Cam had no answers at all.

He overheard s.n.a.t.c.hes of conversation-politicking and gossip-among these people who wouldn't normally be seen in public together. It disturbed his sense of ethics. Half these people he worked for, and the other half-he hid a grimace-he wanted to wipe off the face of this earth. The glimmer of jewelry on the throats, wrists, and cuffs everywhere caught his eye. Wealth, the common denominator. This was the world Marlena walked in.

He looked around at the guests again. Everyone seemed very at home in these opulent surroundings-marble and crystal, modern art and fountains, sumptuous feast and plush furnishings. He'd never been inside a place quite like this, but then he'd never had friends this wealthy, he thought wryly. The few rooms he'd seen, if one could call them rooms, had ample square footage to house several families. The main place where everyone gathered looked like a ballroom, arranged in several sections to accommodate those who wanted to sit in a group, those who preferred to have quiet conversation, and those who were in a more swinging mood.

Huge aquariums filled with colorful salt.w.a.ter fish decorated the walls as well as divided sections of the room. In the middle, the floor tiles gleamed with an intricate sunburst pattern, accented by a huge crystal chandelier hanging from the thirty-foot ceiling that reflected the colors of the aquarium, imported tile, and glittering fashions. The effect was spectacular, like an underwater congregation of colors and movement. His gaze finally rested on one particular woman. A perfect place, he admitted, for a mermaid.

"This is nothing. You should see my place," he told Marlena. Her husky laughter drew attention to them, and especially to what she was wearing. He drew her a little closer, then stopped, surprised at his possessive reaction. He'd never done that with any woman before, even with the few girlfriends he had dated on and off. He glanced quickly at Marlena, but if she'd noticed, she didn't show it, as she made her way slowly around the room.

Steve stayed by Marlena's side as she mingled, and on the surface it appeared like a very superficial gathering. The conversation was general, but once in a while he noticed animated gestures accompanying a discussion of some current hot political topic. He watched the body language. He studied Marlena's every move. She laughed as if she were on top of the world. That part, he knew from experience, was one big facade.

After the superb dinner, he did get to put his foot down on one thing. So okay, he would play around with ten different forks and spoons. He wouldn't touch the food with his hands. But absolutely no dancing. The host, who seemed to be absent, had a live band playing in the backyard by the Olympic-sized pool, and the music had an international flavor, mostly Latin rhythms. Marlena wanted to dance. Steve gave her one dark look, and she sighed.

"Coward," she complained.

"You want to be brave enough to have two left feet stomping on your little toes?" he challenged. This wasn't even swaying music. It was the kind of music that required him to do things that Steve McMillan didn't do. Not in public anyway.

"Stay here and eat munchies then, and watch me," Marlena ordered, and pulled the young amba.s.sador from some developing country onto the dance floor just outside the patio.

Steve sat down on one of the soft leather sofas by an aquarium, but he didn't take his eyes off Marlena. She was having a good time, laughing softly as she moved sensuously in her partner's arms, her steps matching the music perfectly. He sniffed. He turned to look at the fish in the tank. They were exotic, like the woman on his mind, and they, too, seemed to be swimming to the music. His eyes wandered back to Marlena. She seemed to have forgotten about him, talking animatedly to her partner. He considered cutting in. Rudely.

"Oh, an empty seat with no crowd," a voice murmured. Steve turned to find a tall, attractive woman standing by the sofa. "May I join you?"

He shifted slightly to make room, and she sat down gracefully, crossing her model-length legs as she held a gla.s.s of champagne between long, elegant fingers decked with rings. Close up, she was even more beautiful, her short blond hair cut in a blunt pageboy, accentuating cla.s.sical features. Her eyes were a honey-brown color, and they studied him with warm curiosity.

"I've never seen you before."

"Steve," he said, holding out his hand.

"Tess." She sat back comfortably. "You look out of place here."

"Really?" Steve shrugged. "I didn't know it showed."

"You aren't talking to the right people. Sitting alone tells me you either don't know or don't care."

Steve studied the woman thoughtfully. Here was someone to provide information. She returned his gaze just as frankly. "I'm here as company," he explained, resisting the urge to look at Marlena and her dance partner.

She lifted an eyebrow and sipped her drink. "You aren't here to do business, then."

"I'm not sure what business someone like Max Shoggi would have with du Scheum, or why a prince would need to talk business with some of the questionable characters milling around. Besides, I suspect it's all about politics, anyway." He tried to sound nonchalant, flashing her a smile. If he could just get her to answer a few questions, he might end up with more clues.

"Everything is about politics, darling, don't you know?" Tess shook her head, gold hoops in her ears glinting, reflecting the lights from the fish tank. "I can tell you need a lesson in how big business and politics are done in D.C."

"So give me a lesson," Steve invited. "I'm new around here, as you can tell."

She smiled, and he thought he saw amus.e.m.e.nt in her eyes. She flicked her hair with her free hand and took another sip of champagne. "Like a fish out of water, hmm?" she asked.

More than she would ever know, Steve silently acknowledged, but he just nodded.

"Hmm, how do I make this sound interesting? Do you like baseball?"

"Yes."

"Okay, suppose you have the best seats to watch the World Series. Let's make it a Subway Series, between the Yankees and the Mets. Suppose you want to sell those tickets."

"I wouldn't. I would want to watch it," Steve said. He wanted to keep this woman amused enough to impart more information than baseball games.

Tess laughed. "Business, remember?" she reminded gently. "We're doing business."

"Okay."

Her eyes glinted, and now he was very sure she was laughing at him. "Let's make it less personal. Some guy has these tickets, and he's going to sell them to the highest bidder," she said. "Now, it's illegal to sell them a dollar above face value. What do you think he'll do to get around this?"

"Different ways. He can sell through an ad in the paper without specifying the price."

"He would still get caught, if a cop called up," Tess pointed out.

The woman was trying to tell him something. "There is another way. He can sell a pencil for two thousand dollars and if you buy it, he'd throw in a free gift-say, two tickets to the World Series."

"Ah, so you do know how to do business." Tess finished her drink and as if by magic, one of the uniformed servants appeared with a tray offering munchies and drinks. She chose some chocolaty thing and another gla.s.s of champagne. Steve shook his head, not needing another drink. She licked her fingers and took another sip, closing her eyes as she savored the taste. "Hmm...to tell the truth, I come to these things for the champagne. Simply divine."

He wanted to get back on track, but not too obviously. "So, you're here for business, right? And you're hoping to buy a pencil for two thousand dollars."

"Or I might be trying to sell a pencil for two thousand dollars," she countered, a wicked light entering her golden eyes now. She glanced to her right. He followed her gaze. Marlena had finished her dance and was approaching them. Tess murmured softly, "Do you suppose she's buying or selling, darling?"

Marlena reached them, and Steve got up to give her room to sit down. Although she was smiling, Steve felt her anger, but nothing in her expression betrayed that. "I've been looking for you, T.," she said, without any formal greeting. "You've been trying out some of those evasive tactics your new friends taught you."

"I don't know what you mean, I've been here all night," Tess drawled lazily, leaning a little back into the sofa. Marlena had, Steve noted, the most expressive eyes. She seemed to be able to convey many emotions in between sentences. Right now they held Tess's gaze challengingly. "Sit down, darling. You look indecently gorgeous, as usual."

"And you look like you need to mud wrestle once in a while," Marlena retorted, joining the woman on the sofa. She reached out her hand for Steve's. "You've lost some weight."

"Maybe I've been mud wrestling, you never know." Tess looked at their clasped hands and took another sip of her drink.

Perched on the arm of the sofa closer to Marlena, Steve watched them exchange air kisses. Definitely a woman thing, he decided. Must be the fear of lipstick. The two women studied each other for a few seconds, and he wondered whether they were friends. He couldn't tell, from the way they were dueling with words.

"I knew you would catch sight of me if I chose the right place to sit." The mockery in Tess's voice was obvious as she turned to Steve. "So, it's Marlena you're keeping company."

"I'm her lackey," Steve told her dutifully.

Beautifully curved eyebrows lifted a fraction, amus.e.m.e.nt gleaming from the eyes that slanted slightly at the corners. "Lackey?" she drawled out the word, then laughed. "I don't see anything lacking in him, M. darling."

"T. darling," Marlena drawled back. "You haven't seen all of him."

"Well, do tell, what does he lack?"

Marlena gave Steve a wicked grin. "Well...He definitely lacks manners."

"Maybe you lack finesse. Sometimes it takes a subtle touch. His manners were fine while you were away, I a.s.sure you."

Steve watched as Marlena leaned back, c.o.c.king her head to one side as she looked directly at the other woman. Definitely not friends, he decided.

"I see you still like to play with words," Marlena commented, after a moment. With the nearby soft aquarium lights reflecting the exotic colors of the fish, her eyes looked like glittering jewels as she added softly, "Just don't play your mind games with me."

Tess's smile was indolent, amused. "Don't mind me. You're the control freak." She turned to Steve again, dismissing Marlena with a sweep of her elegant hand. "I was bored till I spotted this interesting man over here. But things are looking better now."

Steve didn't know what the woman was up to, but her words were calculated to rile Marlena. She was also succeeding. "It looks like an interesting party," he said. No harm in digging for more information. Tess, whoever she was, liked to talk. "There are too many important people here for me to find it boring."

"True," Tess said, "but they are such a lackl.u.s.ter bunch."

Steve laughed. The woman obviously loved words, and the way she used them was funny. "Here to buy pencils, of course," he joked.

Tess laughed back, genuine pleasure in her eyes. "And to keep company." When Marlena used a napkin to fan herself, she added, "You should go freshen up, darling. You look a little out of breath."

Marlena's eyes narrowed. She didn't like being left out of the conversation. "A breath of fresh air sounds great." She touched Steve's knee briefly as she got up and brushed his lips with hers, murmuring, "Don't go anywhere, especially with her. She eats lackeys for breakfast."

"I won't," Steve promised. He watched her go off. She was mad as h.e.l.l. Jealous, too. He felt ridiculously pleased.