Game For Anything

“I want you to come with me,” Tracker said

He took Sophie’s hand, leading her away from the rest of the party guests. His gaze never left hers as he slipped a card out of his pocket and gave it to her.

She glanced down at the card, recognizing it as the “quickie on demand” coupon she’d given him earlier. “Here?” she croaked.

“And now. Those are the rules of the game as you explained them to me, right?”

“Tracker, I—”

“Are you having second thoughts about our deal?” he asked as he led her down a hallway and opened the first door. It was a powder room, with barely enough room for one person between the toilet and the sink. He led her inside, and suddenly the term “close quarters” took on a whole new meaning.

“I’m collecting on that coupon, princess. Unless you want to back out?”

Sophie’s chin shot up. “I don’t back out of agreements.”

Tracker nodded, stepping back against the door. “Then I think you should take off your panties….”

Dear Reader,

Sophie Wainwright and Tracker McBride fascinated me from the moment they appeared on the pages of my first Blaze novel—Intent To Seduce. The rich “Princess” and the “Shadow” who had the challenging job of protecting her struck sparks off each other even when they were separated by a continent. So how could I not write their story?

The last person in the world that Sophie wants to be attracted to is Tracker McBride. As chief of security for her brother’s business, he’s made it clear that he thinks of her only as a job. For one whole year he’s kept his professional distance, watching over her from afar. Sophie’s problem? She hasn’t forgotten what it felt like to have Tracker’s hands on her—even briefly. How can she forget when he touches her more and more intimately each night in her dreams? She can’t even date other men without seeing Tracker, feeling Tracker. Sophie’s solution? If she’s ever going to get her love life back to normal she has to get Tracker McBride out of her dreams and into her bed for real. And to do that, she’ll play any sensual game it takes!

I hope you enjoy watching these two very reluctant people play the riskiest game of all. Let me know. You can write to me at P.O. Box 718, Fayetteville, NY 13066, or visit my Web site—www.carasummers.com.

Enjoy,

Cara Summers

Game for Anything

Cara Summers

To my editor Brenda Chin—writing coach, book doctor

and muse. Thanks for always being able to see what

I’m trying to do—and then making me go back and do it!

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

Prologue

“YOU’RE SAFE NOW, Princess.”

Sophie’s fear streamed away the moment she heard him. He would set her free.

The cloth covering her eyes and mouth prevented her from seeing him, from saying his name, but she recognized his voice, his touch. Just the barest brush of his fingers along her throat made her skin burn and her blood heat.

In the three days since her kidnapping, she’d known that Tracker McBride would come for her. She’d steeled herself against his anger for tricking him and making him chase her across the country. But his hands were gentle, his voice soothing.

“Don’t be afraid.”

He would touch her now—to make sure she was all right. The anticipation of it made her tremble. The reality of it, the press of those long, lean fingers as they moved over her shoulders and down the length of her arms, left every inch of her skin quivering and then burning.

Her response was always like this—basic, primitive. He touched and she wanted. Desire twisted into a hard knot, and her body began to move, lifting, aching to get closer.

When he gripped her waist, heat, a searing flame, streamed through her. Muscles deep inside of her clenched and her hips arched upward. More. But his hands moved on, continuing their slow, thorough journey over her hips and down her legs. Torturing her.

“I’ll have you free in a minute,” he said as he removed the blindfold and the gag. “Don’t open your eyes right away.”

The moment her arms were untied, she wrapped them around him and held him tight. Safe. Now he would free her from the terrible heat he’d built inside of her. He had to. He stroked one hand down her hair, then she felt his fingers slip beneath her chin and lift it.

“Please…” She wasn’t even sure it was her voice that had said the word. But his mouth brushed against hers and his tongue moistened her lips.

“Now.” With a will of its own, her body melted, molding itself to every hard plane and angle of his. It wasn’t enough. She wanted him right where that deep, demanding ache tugged at her very center. Threading her fingers through his hair, she arched against him. Soon…please.

Finally, when she thought she might die of the wanting, his mouth grew harder, more insistent, and his hand moved to the inside of her thigh.

Yes. Almost. Need built razor sharp as she arched against him, urging him on. The tension inside of her built, twisted, tightened. When his fingers finally slipped into her, the climax moved through her at once, building higher and higher until, deep inside of her, pleasure exploded.

It was the sound of her own voice crying out that shot Sophie out of the dream. For a moment, she lay there, shuddering in the aftermath of the release that had nearly shattered her. She was gripping the bed-clothes in her fists, sweat was cooling on her skin and her breath was coming in short pants. Opening her eyes, she saw that Chess, her cat, was peering down at her.

“I’m fine,” she murmured, releasing a fistful of sheet so that she could run her hand over her large, plump guardian angel.

The cat snorted in disbelief.

Sophie sighed. Chess had been a gift from her brother, Lucas, when she’d moved out of the family home into her living quarters over One of a Kind, the antique and specialty store she ran in Georgetown. They’d been together for five years now, and Chess’s main joy in life seemed to stem from making her be honest with herself.

“All right. All right.” Sitting up, Sophie ran a hand through her hair. “I’m not fine.” How could she be when the best sex—the only sex—she’d had in over a year was occurring only in her dreams?

And the dream was being triggered by a man who annoyed the hell out of her in real life. Tracker McBride, or as she called him, “The Shadow.” Two years ago her brother had hired him to head up the security at Wainwright Enterprises, but as far as Sophie could tell, Tracker’s mission statement read: “Keep the spoiled, misfit sister from destroying Wainwright Enterprises.”

The inescapable fact that she’d come close to doing that twice now—by hooking up with fortune hunters who were after the Wainwright money—humiliated and infuriated her. Having her weakness and stupidity exposed by a complete stranger had only added salt to the wound. Tracker McBride now knew what everyone else in the family knew: she just wasn’t good enough to be a Wainwright.

Tracker’s continued surveillance of her during the past year only confirmed that her brother still didn’t trust her. Every time she went out at night to meet friends, she could sense Tracker’s presence. At times, she was sure that she could feel his gaze moving over her, and the sensation was so intense that he might as well have been touching her. But he never came close enough for her to spot him.

Except in her dreams.

“Damn it.” Rising, she scooped Chess up from the bed and headed toward the kitchen “I’ve got to get free of him.”

Chess snorted again.

“No, you don’t.” Settling the cat on the counter, she pointed an accusing finger at him. “I’m speaking the truth. For the past year, I’ve been having dreams about this phantom lover who never comes near me in real life. And as long as I have him, I don’t want anyone else.”

Chess made no comment.

“It’s pathetic.” Taking a beer out of the refrigerator, she poured it into a saucer and set it in front of him. Then she grabbed her vice of choice—cold pizza.

“I certainly don’t want John Landry.” There. She’d said it out loud.

Chess rubbed against her arm.

“You think you’re a regular truth serum, don’t you?”

Chess returned to his beer.

Glancing down at the pizza, Sophie realized she’d lost her appetite. She’d been dating John Landry for two weeks, and he was everything she should want in a man—good-looking, sweet, attentive and rich enough so that Lucas wouldn’t have to worry he was after the Wainwright money. He even shared her passion for the antique business.

The problem was, two weeks of dating him had not freed her from her dreams of Tracker. If tonight was any example, dating John had only intensified her desire for The Shadow.

She put the pizza back in the refrigerator untouched.

“I’m going to have to dump John.”

Chess’s silence indicated his agreement.

“Rejection sucks.” She’d experienced enough of it from her parents that she didn’t like doing it to anyone. But it wasn’t fair to keep dating John Landry. Even now it was difficult for her to conjure up an image of him. The minute she thought she’d captured his blond hair and lean, aristocratic face, the features blurred into the more roughly hewn cheekbones and dark unruly hair of Tracker McBride.

“Damn the man!” She had to stop thinking about him.

The moment Chess lapped up the last drop of beer, she scooped him up and carried him to the couch. “Movie time.” With any luck she’d find an old classic on a cable station that would distract her, then lull her into a dreamless sleep.

After two minutes of dedicated channel surfing, she located one of her favorites, To Catch a Thief. Settling back against the cushions, she watched Grace Kelly drive a convertible up into the hills of Monte Carlo with Cary Grant at her side. The woman was on a mission. She wanted Cary, and she was going to get him.

Sophie could identify with Grace. She’d always thought of herself as a strong, determined woman, willing to take risks—before she’d taken one too many and gotten herself kidnapped. Thank God, she’d been rescued by Tracker McBride.

Cary Grant was definitely worth wanting. When the movie was made, he’d been at his prime, and the character of the handsome, dangerous jewel thief had suited him to a T. He reminded Sophie a little of Tracker. Both had that air of danger and mystery about them.

All she really knew about The Shadow was that he and Lucas had flown missions together in the service, missions that Lucas would never talk about. Cary Grant’s character had secrets, too. And there was one more thing that reminded her of Tracker—the reformed jewel thief in the movie didn’t want to have anything to do with the rich, spoiled American that Grace was playing.

Of course, that hadn’t slowed Grace down one bit. Plus the whole time she was seducing Grant’s character on-screen, she’d been equally busy offscreen, nabbing herself a prince. Sophie was willing to bet that the woman hadn’t broken a sweat doing either.

Cool, smart, determined. Sophie had to admire someone like that. Eyes narrowing, she watched Grace Kelly open a picnic basket and laugh teasingly at something Cary said.

Sophie was going to see Tracker at the anniversary party tomorrow. Lucas was recreating every detail of their wedding for his wife, Mac—and Tracker wouldn’t dare stay away. He’d been the best man. Sophie’s mind raced. She could invite John Landry to go with her—and why not Carter Mitchell, too? He managed the gallery next to her shop, and he wouldn’t mind doing her a favor. If she arrived with two men, Tracker might… No.

“No, I am not, I repeat, not thinking of seducing Tracker McBride.”

Chess growled deep in his throat, his disbelief clear.

“Shut up.” But the cat was right as usual. She was thinking of doing just that. Why should Grace have all the fun? And why should Sophie spend another night just having Tracker in her dreams?

Being a good girl and dating the kind of men that she knew her brother would approve of hadn’t worked. Maybe the only way to break free from the trap she found herself in was to seduce the man who held her there….

1

“LUCAS, WILL YOU TAKE this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Sophie blinked back a tear as her brother said yes. She’d never thought of Lucas as being romantic, but marriage had changed him.

“Mac, will you take Lucas to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Sophie blinked again as her best friend repeated her vow. As the maid of honor, Sophie stood in attendance behind the bride, elbow to elbow with the best man, Tracker McBride. It was bad enough that every pore in her body seemed to be aware of him—she was not going to cry in front of him!

“By the power invested in me…”

Sophie sniffed as a tear slid down her cheek. The game plan she’d come up with to grab Tracker’s attention was not going well. It hadn’t mattered one bit that she’d arrived with two men in attendance. The Shadow hadn’t appeared until it was time to escort her from the patio outside Lucas’s office to the trellis in the rose garden. And all it had taken was the brief, impersonal press of his hand on the small of her back to reawaken her fantasy of having his hands touch every part of her. Just thinking about it had her skin feeling hot and icy at the same time.

Sophie blinked away a second tear. Damn it! Grace Kelly hadn’t cried in front of Cary Grant. She’d been all smiles and champagne picnics and dogged determination. More importantly, she’d had a game plan that worked.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

When Lucas and Mac turned to embrace each other, Sophie felt the second tear slide down her cheek. They shared what she’d always wanted—that closeness with a person you loved and who loved you back.

Hoping that no one would notice, she raised a hand slowly, intending to wipe the tears away. Tracker’s arm brushed against hers when he stepped closer and pressed a handkerchief into her hand, and she felt heat streak right down to her toes.

“You okay, Princess?”

Okay? How could she be okay when her insides had become as liquid as the tears running down her face? And when the man who was responsible was treating her like a kid sister? Dabbing at her eyes, she managed a nod.

Wasn’t that the story of her life? The men who wanted to seduce her were after her money, and the one man she wanted to seduce her was perfectly content to merely watch over her like a protective older brother.

Blinking rapidly, Sophie willed the tears to stop. She’d come here to change that. If plan A—making Tracker jealous—had been a bust, she’d just have to come up with another one. Quick.

As she watched her brother and her best friend turn to face the applause of their guests, she stepped to the side and, for a moment, let her eyes meet Tracker’s. When a jolt moved through her right down to her toes, she waited a beat, then two, for her system to stabilize. Dressed all in black, he exuded an air of mystery and danger. And sex—raw, primitive and irresistible.

She was in trouble. It was one thing to plan a seduction in the abstract and quite another to put it into action when just looking at him turned her knees to jelly.

And it was just her luck that he was a triple threat kind of guy. First, he had a great body, strong and athletic. Second, he had a great mouth. It was better not to look at it too long. And then there were his eyes and the way he looked at her—as if he knew all her secrets and was just waiting for her to make a move so that he could counter it.

It made her want to do something, anything that he wouldn’t expect.

That was the key. Drawing in a deep breath, she stiffened her spine. She had to think of something he wouldn’t expect, something subtle, sneaky. The challenge sent a little ripple of anticipation through her.

“Hey, you two,” Lucas said.

With a start, Sophie tore her eyes away from Tracker’s and glanced at her brother. He and Mac had already started to make their way down the “aisle” formed by the guests.

“Stay close,” Lucas continued, once he had their attention. “We’re going right to the dance floor just as we did at the wedding.”

Yes, Sophie decided as she walked with Tracker toward the platform that had been set up for dancing. A dance was a good start. And maybe an innocent little game…

A DANCE. That’s all it was. Just a polite, social gesture—one of the many rituals that Lucas was determined to repeat for his bride. That’s what Tracker told himself as he steered Sophie onto the dancing platform. It had been a year since he’d held the Princess in his arms, a year since he’d decided that he had to keep his distance from her. However much he thought he’d prepared himself, he couldn’t prevent his body from hardening in anticipation of holding her, the reaction so automatic it was as if he had already been intimate with her.

And he had been very intimate with her in the fantasies that had fueled his dreams every night for the past year. A few of them flickered at the edge of his mind as the music began. Then her hand was in his, pressed palm to palm, and she raised the other one to rest on his shoulder. They touched nowhere else, but he could imagine her strong, slender fingers brushing over his skin, and flames licked along his nerve endings at the thought.

Fantasies were all he would ever have with Sophie Wainwright, Tracker reminded himself. Hardly a day went by that he didn’t review the reasons why he’d resolved to steer clear of her. First off, she was his boss’s sister—a boss who happened to be his best friend and the closest thing to family he’d ever known. Having an affair with Sophie Wainwright was out of the question. And anything else was impossible. They came from different worlds. Only in fairy tales did the princess and the knight who guarded her believe they might have anything more.

But she was close now, and each time the movements of the dance brought their bodies into contact, the hard knot of desire tightened inside of him. One thing was clear. He couldn’t control his response to her any more than he’d been able to keep himself entirely away from her.

Lucas had asked him to keep an eye on her after the kidnapping. There were plenty of men Tracker could have assigned to watch over her. But he hadn’t been able to give up watching over her himself.

That one simple fact worried him. Developing an iron-willed control over his emotions was one of the few things in his life he was proud of. His father had been a violent man, and Tracker knew that he’d inherited some of those tendencies. The work he’d done for the government had proved it. He couldn’t allow anyone to get too close, especially not Sophie, who threatened his control as no woman ever had before.

Even now he couldn’t seem to prevent himself from drawing her closer and torturing himself with the brush of her body against his. Each time she shifted, he felt the movement, along with an ache that began to grow deeper and sharper within him.

He wanted Sophie. To have her this close and not be able to take more was sheer torture.

“It’s just not fair,” Sophie said.

Her statement so clearly echoed his own thoughts that for a second Tracker wondered if she could read his mind.

“What isn’t fair?” he asked, glancing down. In that first moment of looking into those amber-colored eyes of hers, his mind went completely blank. All he could see, all he could absorb, was Sophie. She had the finest damn face—fair skinned, oval. This close, he could see what he never saw in his fantasies: there were flaws in that pale, almost translucent, skin. A sprinkle of freckles across her nose, the faintest scar on her chin… A man might be fooled into thinking she was delicate if he didn’t notice the stubbornness in the strong line of her jaw.

Then his gaze fastened on her mouth. Her lips were parted, moist…and moving. He gave his head a quick shake to clear it when he realized she was talking to him.

“…agree with me?”

A short, balding man spun by, jostling against them and nearly losing the tall woman in his arms. For the first time, Tracker became aware that other couples had joined them on the dance floor. The beat of the music had picked up, too. How long had he been holding Sophie and fantasizing?

“Well, don’t you?” she asked.

She was smiling at him. Tracker narrowed his eyes. The Princess didn’t do that very often, and it made him wary. “Agree with you about what?”

“That it’s simply not fair. You know everything about me, and I know next to nothing about you.”

“You know everything you need to know about me.”

Sophie shook her head. “I don’t even know your real name. Lucas says you’re called Tracker because in the service there wasn’t anything you couldn’t track. I don’t know where you came from, either. Why don’t we play a little game?”

Tracker frowned. “What kind of a game?”

“Oh, stop being so suspicious. I’m suggesting a game of twenty questions, and we’ll take turns. You ask me a question and then I ask you one.”

Tracker studied her as he steered her nearer the edge of the dance platform. He’d learned a lot about her when she’d donned a wig and led him on a merry chase cross-country last year, and she was definitely up to something. There was an unmistakable gleam of mischief in her eyes that he couldn’t help but respond to. “What happens if I don’t want to answer a particular question?”

“You can pass. But you have to pay a penalty, of course. Let’s say…something simple to begin with…” Pausing, she tapped a finger on his chest. “I know. If you don’t answer the question, the penalty is a kiss. What do you say? Are you game?”

No. He should say no. But his body was already on fire with the thought of lowering his mouth to hers, of taking just one taste. His hands had already gone to her waist. Her lips were only inches from his, and…

No. He should end this right now, simply set her aside and walk away. While he was trying to get his body to follow orders, she rose on her toes and her mouth was even closer. “I’ll make it easy for you.”

The whisper of her breath on his skin was nearly his undoing.

“You can go first. Ask me anything,” she invited.

He couldn’t imagine the snake in the Garden of Eden being any more persuasive. He could feel his blood draining from his head.

“I’ve got it. You’ve been following me all over Georgetown—every single time I’ve gone out with John Landry. I’ll bet there’s something you want to know about him—something that even you haven’t been able to uncover. Wouldn’t you like to know what my plans are so that you can tell Lucas? Aren’t you wondering if I’m in love with him?”

“Are you in love with him?” The question slipped out before he could prevent it. It had been eating away at him like acid since she’d first started dating John Landry. Everything about the man had checked out. He came from wealth, the steady, deep-pocket kind that was handed down from one generation to another. His family tree was good, too; on his mother’s side, he was related to an earl. Sophie had met him on one of her buying trips, and he was interested in antiques. In short, he was perfect for her. Tracker had told Lucas as much.