Wickedly Hot

She’d seemed happy enough, though, at least until last week when she’d come home for Mama’s wedding. Jenny had been crying about a man she’d met at the restaurant. She’d fallen hard as only a vulnerable, lonely twenty-one-year-old could. The stranger had swept her off her feet then dropped her flat.

Ryan Stoddard, aka the bastard.

It was time for him to pay. If Aunt Lula Mae found out, she’d likely want to punish him herself. And it still might come to that. If Jade couldn’t publicly humiliate him, she just might have to get some of his hair and let Lula Mae do what she did best—curse him so he’d never be able to, uh, perform again.

But not until she’d given it a shot. Her way.

Which meant Ryan Stoddard was in for the most embarrassing night of his life.

RYAN HADN’T EXPECTED her to be so beautiful.

She stood out like an exotic jungle flower among a bunch of daisies. Her silky-looking dark hair was nearly black, skimming over her shoulders and down her back until it was lost against the color of her dress. A soft, red scarf draped loosely across her shoulders provided a dramatic contrast that drew the eye again and again.

Her skin was smooth and perfect, a warm tanned color like fine coffee full of rich, sweet cream. She was taller than most of the men who’d been eyeing her all evening, and held her slender jaw slightly up, indicating confidence and perhaps a bit of arrogance.

Though in a crowd, she seemed alone. Her detached attitude was enticing because of its mysterious quality, but off-putting because of her disinterest in her surroundings.

Her body was sin, her face was flawless, her eyes were wicked.

How appropriate for a thief.

“Mr. Stoddard, are you enjoying yourself?”

Mamie Brandywine, the owner of the bed-and-breakfast and museum, joined him. She briefly pulled his attention off his target, the woman he’d come to Savannah to find. Jade Maguire.

“Very nice, thank you.”

“And you’re finding your tours of the local plantation homes helpful in your research?”

“Absolutely,” he said, trying to get his mind off the seductive, deceitful temptress and back on his job. Something he’d been putting on the back burner for the past few weeks while trying to get retribution for what had been done to his grandmother. Fortunately, his quest for justice had led him here, to the very city he needed to visit while writing an article on the architecture of the Old South.

“I’m truly enjoying the tours you’ve set up. Thanks so much for arranging for me to stay in some of the local inns,” he added, trying to find some basic element of charm—or at least cordiality—within himself. It had been buried beneath a layer of anger for weeks.

That anger had increased the moment he’d seen Jade Maguire. She should have looked like a thief, a crone, a crook.

But she didn’t. She looked like every man’s fantasy. The kind of woman he’d always imagined but never found—mysterious, sultry, intelligent, almost unattainable. God, Ryan couldn’t resist a challenge. And Jade Maguire screamed, “Look, but don’t touch,” a challenge no man could resist.

To his eternal shame, he wanted her in spite of knowing what she’d done. Wanted her with instant avarice and a healthy dose of anger. He wanted her under him, crying for mercy even as she cried out in passion and begged him to take her.

He’d never felt the heady mix of passion and anger before. Never understood its power, though he’d heard of it affecting other men.

Now he got it. It was nearly painful to be in the same room with a woman he’d desired on sight, but who’d swindled a valuable family heirloom from a helpless elderly woman.

Well, he could concede, his grandmother was not exactly helpless. She had a steel spine beneath her high-necked blouses—which made it even more imperative for him to get the painting back as soon as possible. The elderly woman was so embarrassed at having been tricked by the deceitful con artist that she’d refused to bring the police in on the case. She’d also forbidden him to tell Grandfather she’d let the painting be stolen. She’d concocted some story about it being on loan for an exhibit to keep the old man from asking any questions. She was relying on Ryan to bring it back before she could get caught.

“I can’t tell you how pleased we are that Architectural Digest is going to devote an article to the construction of our fair city,” Mamie said, interrupting his heated thoughts about the woman across the room.

The article. The reason Ryan was getting the red-carpet treatment here in Savannah. What perfect timing that he’d come here for an annual meeting, after being solicited to write a piece for the journal. He’d kill three birds with one stone.

The conference. The article. And the thief.

“Savannah has paved the way for other cities to save their historic treasures,” he replied, completely in earnest. “Anyone who wants to preserve treasured buildings of the past would look to your city as a fine example.”

The pudgy woman preened and not very subtly smoothed her hand over the low, tight neckline of her unattractive, fluffy green dress. Very tight. Very low cut. The wares were nearly spilling out, which was apparently what she wanted.

Ryan stiffened ever so slightly and took a small step back. His stance grew a bit more formal as he sent out a silent message that he hoped she’d get. He didn’t want to have to flat-out turn her down and risk alienating the woman who owned the inn he’d be sleeping in tonight. Particularly because he imagined she had keys to all the rooms.

He had a sudden mental flash of a fleshy woman creeping into his bed in the dead of night. Talk about your basic nightmares. He’d had flings with older women—his university guidance counselor came to mind—but never decades older.

Then the picture in his oversexed brain changed, and it wasn’t the proprietress face he imagined entering his room in the dark of night. He saw the thief—Jade—lovely and deceptive. Graceful and conniving. Intoxicating and completely ruthless.

The image of her dark black hair against his white sheets made him gulp a big mouthful of his drink.

“Are you all right, Mr. Stoddard?” Mamie asked as he coughed a bit into his fist.

“Fine,” he murmured. “Just…went down the wrong way.”

Everything about this situation had gone down the wrong way, from the minute his grandmother had told him she’d been robbed. First, tracking the wrong J. Maguire from Savannah, he’d wound up meeting the younger sister, Jenny, up in New York. He’d realized within hours that she wasn’t the right woman. Thankfully, he’d only taken her out to lunch once. So she wouldn’t have had any reason to mention him to her sister.

The second detective he’d hired—a better one—had found Jade, and his grandmother had confirmed the description. Ryan had taken the information and come to Savannah determined, in charge, using the cover of the convention and the article to get where he wanted to be—close to her.

Everything had gone fine. Right up until the moment he’d actually seen the woman he was after.

He could be in over his head with this one. It was somehow exciting, rather than disturbing, to imagine the sexy brunette sneaking into his room. Trying her tricks on him, creeping in to take something that belonged to him. Taking him.

He forced the traitorous thought away. Yes, she was damned attractive and he had to clench his fists to remind himself he had to trick her. Not take her.

Unfortunately.

“Well, if you need any help getting around,” Mamie said, not noticing his distraction, “I’d be more than happy to help you in any way.” She drew her hand to her throat again, flashing a big chunky rock on her ring finger and tapping her collarbone with the tip of her red-tinted fingernail.

Not on your best day, lady.

Since she hadn’t gotten the nonverbal hint, he gave her a broader one. “I’m also enjoying getting to meet some of the beautiful young women of your city.”

That seemed to get through. The woman was twenty years his senior, at least, with a husband dangling around here somewhere, probably downing drinks wondering how he was going to pay for her next party. Not to mention her next diamond.

“Well, there’s no shortage of those.” This time Mamie’s smile was somewhat forced.

“What about her?” Ryan asked, nodding toward Jade, who stood talking with an older woman in a Southern-belle ball gown.

Mamie’s mouth stiffened even more. “Jade Maguire. She can show you some things, all right. She owns one of those trashy tour guide companies that prey on out-of-towners who like to be scared out of their wits with silly ghost stories at night.”

Nothing he hadn’t known. The private detective he’d ordered to track down the right J. Maguire had sent a file on Jade’s company, Stroll Savannah, which had become one of the most popular tourist traps since she’d opened it a few years ago.

He knew where she lived. Where she’d gone to school. What she liked to drink and when she liked to eat. Who she employed. Who she dated—nobody, really, which had been a surprise. When she traveled and where she went.

He’d been prepared for everything. Everything except how beautiful she was.

“You can find better tour guides,” Mamie said.

The biting tone in the woman’s voice was a surprise. Then again, he imagined a woman who looked like Jade got a lot of jealous responses from overweight, aging society matriarchs. He was about to put the woman in her place, some unexpected instinct making him want to defend Jade, a woman he personally had hated for weeks. But before he could do so, Mamie continued.

“Her father was just an Irish bartender.”

“So she’s not a native of the city?”

Mamie shrugged, then grudgingly conceded, “She’s actually part of a long lineage of Savannians. On her mother’s side. Her father’s name was Maguire, but her mother’s maiden name was Dupré.” The woman leaned close, looking around to ensure she wasn’t being overheard. “Some of those Duprés…well, they’re not quite the purest family line, if you know what I mean.”

He didn’t. And for some reason, though he should want to gather more ammunition to use against Jade, he resented the woman’s snide tone and didn’t ask for details.

“The party’s going well.”

She frowned at the change of subject, looking disappointed that he hadn’t taken the bait. Why hadn’t he? Stupid. That’d been a stupid move. But he somehow couldn’t find it within himself to regret it.

“I suppose.” Then she put out her dark-tinted bottom lip in a small pout. “Are you going to be moving to the Winter Garden House tomorrow? You’re sure we can’t convince you to stay?”

Ryan shook his head. “Sorry. I must spend some time at all the inns I’ll be writing about.”

Not to mention the fact that Jade Maguire’s tour company capped off their nighttime haunted history tour with a visit to the famous Winter Garden inn. Since he’d paid one of her employees to call in sick tomorrow night, he knew damn well who’d be leading the tour.

It was almost too easy luring the tigress into his den.

Hell, she was making it even easier because she’d been looking at him all night. Giving him these intense stares, studying him.

Ryan was used to the stares of women. Under normal circumstances, this woman’s interest would have gotten exactly the kind of reaction he’d always had to a beautiful, seductive female. Instant heat. Hot pleasure. The kind of crazy passionate relationship he’d enjoyed more than a few times in his life. The kind that had kept him from settling down to anything more permanent—much to his grandmother’s dismay.

Grandmother didn’t believe he wasn’t secretly interested in marriage, kids and all the suburban crap the women she introduced him to seemed to want. And he didn’t want to force her to admit he didn’t possess the love-at-first-sight gene that had downed so many of his family members.

So the least he could do for evading her marriage traps was reclaim a family treasure.

He hadn’t realized, though, until he’d set eyes on Jade, that the job might be so very enjoyable. Getting her naked, helpless and at his mercy might prove to be fun. He just had to keep reminding himself this was a mission. Business, not pleasure.

Though, honestly, if some pleasure happened into the equation, he didn’t think he’d protest too much.

2

“YOU’VE BEEN WATCHING ME,” a smooth voice said, low and melodic and hinting at other words, more sultry words, that he’d rather not say in public.

Ryan Stoddard. God, he’d come right up to her. Jade hadn’t expected him to make the first move.

“You’ve been watching me,” she countered, sipping her drink and not turning around. She closed her eyes and did a rapid one-to-ten count to gain control. She couldn’t believe he’d eased around the crowd and snuck up on her while she’d been watching Tally work her magic with the rich businessman.

On the positive front, she’d only been here an hour and already the object of her revenge scheme had approached her. She was getting almost too good at this clandestine thing. Though, she had to admit, the ability to be noticed in a crowd had come in handy on some of her treasure-hunting jaunts. Particularly with the male targets.

He moved closer. The fabric of his trousers brushed her bare legs, which were revealed well above the knee in a short jet-black beaded cocktail dress that didn’t quite suit the dress code tonight. The contact stirred her, made something lurch within her.

“We’ve been watching each other,” he admitted, his voice closer now. Close enough for her to feel his breath on her neck.

Goose bumps rose there. Goose bumps, for heaven’s sake, as if she hadn’t been practicing this man/woman/ sex thing since before she’d grown breasts. Every Dupré woman knew about seduction, just as every Dupré woman knew about the family history and the many ways to curse someone in the old language.

“If it makes you feel better to think so, go ahead.”

He chuckled, obviously not fooled by her cool tone. How could he be when her whole body was practically arching toward him, shifting with imperceptible need? Was the warmth she felt caused by the hot summer night or by his nearness?

Or by her own anxiety about what she planned to do with this man very, very soon?

“You look wicked in that dress.”

Nothing subtle about this man.

“Compared to the other ladies in their pastels and jewel tones, I mean.”

She knew darn well he hadn’t been talking about the color of her dress. He’d meant her. That she looked wicked.

Wicked as in hot. Not bad.

Which was good, since she didn’t want him to know yet just how bad she could be. Particularly when she had payback on her mind.

“You mean I’m dressed inappropriately?” she asked, smoothing her hand across the front of her dress in a provocative stroke.

His response—a laugh—caught her by surprise. When she frowned, he quickly explained. “My landlady tried the exact same move on me not ten minutes ago. Trust me, it works much better on you than it did on someone whose chins almost meet her cleavage.”

Having no liking for Mamie Brandywine—who’d been downright rude to Jade’s mother on more than one occasion—Jade smiled, and forgave him for his laughter. “You should see her in a bathing suit.”

He visibly shuddered.

“I’m sure she’d be happy to join you in the spa.”

“I’d rather be boiled in oil.”

“Warm oil. I’m sure she could arrange that, too. She’s, uh, rather fond of her male guests.”

He raised an offended hand to his chest and shook his head. “You mean, it’s not just me? She wasn’t bowled over by my manly charms and extraordinary looks?”

Jade couldn’t help it. She let out a little snort, amused by his self-deprecating tone. “Don’t flatter yourself. She’d be trying to get Attila the Hun naked in the hot tub if he were here. I think that’s why she had it installed.”

“I don’t think the two of them would fit.” Then he added, “And if she’s used it a lot for her ‘dates,’ I think I’d better make a mental note—no hot tub for me.”

Against her will, Jade reacted to his good humor. She liked his snappy comebacks and quick mind. Then she remembered what had gotten them on the subject of Mamie Brandywine to begin with. “By the way, I was not making a come-hither move.”

“You weren’t?” he asked, his voice growing husky. “You mean, you didn’t deliberately move your open hand across your breasts, until your nipples got hard against your pretty black dress?”

She gasped. How on earth did he think he could get away with speaking to a complete stranger, in public, like that?

He didn’t even pause. “You didn’t intentionally run your thumb under the neckline, inviting a man to imagine the way your skin tastes?” Then he lifted her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “Not to mention your long fingernails just barely scraping across your skin, dipping between your breasts, inviting him to anticipate what it would be like to kiss you there, lick the hollow of your throat, then follow the path your own hand had taken?” He gave her a wicked look, silently daring her to lie. “None of it was intentional?”

Jade froze, her legs turning to lead and her lips parting to suck in breath. Lord have mercy, what had she gotten herself into here? This man used words the way an artist used paint. He’d woven a spell around her, as heavy and intoxicating as one of Lula Mae’s brews. And he’d done it with only his voice.

She suddenly began to wonder if she’d made a very serious miscalculation.

Because instead of being the seducer, she was very much afraid she might end up the one seduced.

HE HAD HER. HE KNEW IT at that moment. The cool, confident goddess had turned into a stammering high school girl.

Women. Unbelievable what kind of verbal B.S. they fell for.

Though, he hadn’t entirely been B.S.’ing. He’d had to force his voice to remain steady as he’d seduced her with words because, in truth, he’d meant everything he’d said. Though, in any other situation, he’d never have been so outrageous and suggestive with a woman he’d just met. The women he knew were the same cool, mature businesspeople he interacted with every day.

Not like her. Not like Jade. The kind who had him thinking of nothing but what her curves looked like under that black dress, how her mouth would taste, how her hair would feel spread out across his naked chest.

How she stole from your own family, asshole!

Yeah. That, too. This hot seductress used her Southern act to convince others she was intelligent, respectable, in control.

And honest.

She’d fooled his very astute grandmother into thinking she was a professional restorer of valuable art. That’s how she’d conned Grandmother out of the beautiful Jules LeBeuf portrait. The elderly woman would never have handed over the painting, done by a lesser-known French Impressionist in the 1850s, without believing it was in good hands.

Such pretty hands. Such soft hands. Such talented hands…most especially when it came to things like picking locks. Or pockets.

“You seem to think you know how to charm a woman. I suppose you’ve had a lot of experience?”

Her voice was a little shaky. She was obviously still affected by the outrageous things he, a stranger, had just said to her. But there was also a hard note, as if she had her back up for some reason.

“No more than any other man,” he said, lifting his shoulders in what he hoped looked like self-deprecation. Then he quirked a brow. “That’s what I’m supposed to say, right? So I don’t appear too confident?”

“I don’t think that’s possible. You wear your confidence like some men wear their clothes.”

“Attractive and in good taste, I hope?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of flashy and overdone,” she replied, though her insult lacked the punch she’d probably intended.

“Should I go away?” he asked, knowing the answer.

She shook her head. “So far you haven’t done anything completely unredeemable.”

No, she didn’t want him to go away. She was still wrapped in the cozy, intimate place they’d stumbled into here in the midst of all these people. And she was still as affected as he was. He just hid it better.

Jade began rubbing her hand up and down one bare arm, as if warming herself. But the noticeable goose bumps on her skin weren’t caused by cold—the room was sweltering.

No, their interaction was putting her entire body on high alert. But before he could call her on it, her attention was diverted by someone who paused to speak to her.

Ryan watched quietly, silently admitting that he, too, was on high alert. He tried to analyze it. This hot flush of awareness and excitement couldn’t be brushed off as righteous indignation or the culmination of a couple of weeks’ buildup. Being truly honest about it, he believed he’d have reacted just as strongly to Jade Maguire if this really had been a chance meeting at a party.

Ryan had known a lot of women over the years, and been involved with his fair share. Probably more than his fair share. He’d even come close to commitment, getting engaged to a Manhattan lawyer he’d met at a cocktail party a few years ago. But he hadn’t been able to go through with it, and neither had she. They’d both figured out that while the two of them made a picture-perfect couple, they’d never shared the kind of deep, soul-stirring passion a marriage should have.

His grandmother would probably never believe it, and she’d laugh in his face if he told her. But one of the main reasons Ryan had never settled down—never even tried to feign interest in any of the women she, his mother and his sister had set him up with over the years—was because of the example his family had set. His grandparents were mad for each other. Ditto his parents. And Jane, his younger sister, was deeply in love with her husband.

Though he didn’t believe he could fall madly in love at first sight—as other members of his family claimed to have—he did think he was capable of real love.

And he wanted it.

His family had set a high standard. Deep inside, he knew he couldn’t settle for less. Unfortunately, so far Ryan had never felt that way about anyone. Never lost his mind, lost his heart or even lost control of his emotions over a single female he’d ever met.

Which made his instant reaction to this one that much more surprising. And intriguing. He’d never felt as sparking with energy, as…alive with a woman as he did in the brief time he’d known Jade Maguire.

Before he could take any longer to wonder about it, they were interrupted by Mamie Brandywine. “Well, here you are,” she said to Ryan, giving him a broad smile. Then she turned her attention to Jade. “I’m surprised to see you here. This isn’t your usual crowd, is it?” She shook her head and tsked. “And I must protest, you’re monopolizing our special guest.”

No love lost between those two, he’d already figured out by Mamie’s earlier comments, so he wasn’t exactly surprised by the woman’s hard tone. Jade responded with a lazy smile and amused silence that practically dared Mamie Brandywine to push harder.

Mamie didn’t push. And Ryan’s interest in Jade went up another notch. A woman with a lot of nerve, that one.

Rather than losing the staring contest with Jade, Mrs. Brandywine backed down and turned her attention back to Ryan. She took his arm, saying, “I want you to meet someone. The owner of the inn we were discussing is right over there.”

The Winter Garden. The inn where he’d be staying, starting tomorrow. He did not want Jade to know he’d be there. It might be enough to make her suspicious when he put Plan B into action.

Plan A was to seduce her, get close enough to her and try to get her to reveal something that might lead him to the painting.

Plan B was…well…a little riskier and involved the inn.

And a pair of handcuffs.

“You won’t mind if I steal him away, will you, Jade? Surely you can find some other way to amuse yourself,” Mamie said. “There are lots of men here who might find your little ghost stories interesting.”