CHAPTER NINE
GERARD OPENED THE FRONT door and his brows lifted with surprise when he saw her.
Sam smiled at him. It was half past six and she was due at Hemmer’s at seven, but she hadn’t heard from Ian since he’d stormed out of Nick’s office at HCU. She was pretty sure their date with Rupert Hemmer was off. She couldn’t let that happen—and not just because of the DVD.
She was fairly certain he was with Jan, or making plans with her, because Jan sank her teeth into quarry like a terrier did a meaty bone. She wouldn’t let Jan work him.
The afternoon’s meeting at HCU had left her with an almost sick feeling. It was unease, she supposed. Damn it. She hated his involvement with Jan but even more, she hated his distress. Nick should let him have the damn file, even though she knew it wasn’t rational of her to think so.
“Hey, Gerard, how are you today?” Sam was sorry she’d been so rude to Gerard when they’d met in Scotland.
If he’d been with Maclean for years, as he claimed, he must have some attachment to his job and, possibly, to his boss.
She knew Maclean had no friends—because she knew about his past—and she was glad he had his butler. It was better than nothing at all.
Of course, he had his father. But Ian had walked away from his family as well as everything else. Why?
Apparently, Ian belonged in the past, not in modern-day New York City or Scotland. That idea made Sam uneasy.
If that were true, it meant that if he came to his senses one day, he’d go back. His father would be there, as would be Brie, and even Tabby. Sam was aware of missing her sister as much as ever. She knew she had to get over it. Somehow, she’d go back to see her sooner, rather than later.
Sam sighed. Control seemed to have been banished from her dictionary recently, and she really liked control.
But it didn’t matter. Her current job was rescuing Maclean from Jan’s clutches, getting him over to Hemmer’s to play out what Hemmer had begun and going back into that vault.
And getting the page out of Maclean’s clutches remained at the top of her priority list. However, after his encounter with Nick, she wasn’t sure how she was going to accomplish that.
Whatever was going to happen next, she was certain it would surprise her.
“His lordship did not mention that you were calling,” Gerard said, his brows still slightly elevated. He was clearly cool to her.
“His lordship probably forgot that we have a hot date with the dark side.”
Gerard’s expression became peculiar. Sam wondered if it was her reference to evil that had disturbed him. Gerard definitely knew a lot more about life than your average mortal.
Of course, Gerard might be discomfited because Ian was entertaining Jan.
He seemed classy enough to get bent out of shape over such a trivial detail.
Her purse, containing the DVD, almost burned her hand.
“Don’t worry,” she told him, still smiling.
“Old habits die hard. I’m a party crasher, remember?
And trust me, when we’re done with this evening, he won’t mind the interruption, not one bit.
” The DVD might become her weapon of choice.
A gal never knew when a sex tape might become handy.
It might not matter if he’d already seen it, either.
But she’d started to think that if he had, he’d have been the one to throw it in her face.
“Do come in, Ms. Rose,” he said tersely.
“Aw, c’mon, Gerard. Surely this isn’t the first time Maclean has had a little party with more than one lady?
You must be used to his bad-boy habits by now.
” But her sarcasm felt forced. Guys who spent most of their lives as captives would not know how to have relationships.
They’d only know the basics—like having sex—and that seemed to be Maclean.
“His lordship is not in his usual temper today,” Gerard said. “And unlike you, his other caller was expected. He did not mention he would be going out for the evening.”
Jan had worked him, and it rankled. She dismissed that. “Let me guess. His other caller is blond, buxom and that new forty? And her name is Jan ‘Barbie’ Bentley?”
“A Ms. Bentley is present, Ms. Rose. You may wait in the green room,” he said. “I will tell his lordship you are here.”
Gerard left. Sam breathed hard, almost dismayed.
She reminded herself that she didn’t care if Maclean came on to Barbie, not to mention that Jan would never put out.
But no one was going to cut her out of the evening or move in on her gig.
To hell with Nick. She was going to be the batter with the big home run—she was going to bring home the page.
However, as much as Sam hated to admit it, underestimating Jan was a bad idea. This was not a high-school competition. This was a job. But it almost felt like some foolish rivalry.
For the first time in years, Sam felt her confidence waver.
In a way, Jan was like Tabby. She was a naturally kind person.
Sam could pretend that she wasn’t, but it was a lie.
And that was why men went ga-ga over her.
The soft smile and kind eyes were real. She was every man’s dream and she wanted to be your dearest friend, too.
It sucked, but that was the truth. Ian was probably drooling all over her right now.
He would not be immune to the package of lush looks and an ultra-feminine, super kind heart.
Sam was proud of being a soldier. Her duty as a Slayer defined who she was, just as it defined her life. Plenty of women could be nurturing, few could do what she did. Still, she hated the idea of Ian falling under Jan’s “I Am Woman” spell. It even worried her.
Sam shook off her sudden doubts. She’d take care of Jan, ASAP, one way or another.
Sam glanced at herself in the gilded mirror on one wall.
She was wearing a very tiny teal dress with spaghetti straps.
It barely came to midthigh and it was jersey, so it clung to her breasts, torso, hips and thighs.
The hefty gauze wrapping on her ribs had been replaced with a wide bandage.
Not the doctor’s orders, but to hell with that.
She wore silver python stiletto sandals.
Unlike Jan, she wore one coat of mascara and lip gloss—she did not need to mask her face to make it look better.
She’d stopped traffic while hailing a cab earlier.
Three Wall Street types had fought over the privilege of finding a cab for her during rush hour.
A chubby married man had actually given her his cab, blushing like Santa Claus.
But that might have been a surge in his blood pressure.
Her confidence back, she went down the hall after Gerard.
Gerard was in a large gold and white living room, not far from the pair of carved doors, announcing her. Sam walked past him.
Ian was standing there, at once Armani perfect and Hugo Boss sexy. He looked at her coldly.
Okay, he was still angry because she’d thrown him a pity party. Sam saw that Jan sat on an ivory brocade sofa, in an orange dress, legs crossed, her gaze watchful, an untouched glass of white wine before her. “Hot date?” Sam mocked. “Because it sure looks rocking.”
Jan rolled her eyes. “Ian invited me over for a drink. I made it clear I would continue the earlier conversation.”
“Gee, which conversation was that? The I’m your go-to gal one, or the let’s-screw-him-over one? I hope I’m not intruding.” She turned back to Ian and caught him looking at her legs. His expression hadn’t eased.
Jan said, “I was trying to explain our position to him.”
Sam looked Ian in the eye and did not turn to Jan. “And what position is that? The missionary one?”
Jan sighed. It was too bad that orange was a great color on her. “We’re in a dangerous war. Ian is not evil. Nick was too hard on him. I’m concerned. I want to help.”
“Of course you do.” Sam looked at Ian. “Please don’t tell me you’re falling for the good cop, bad cop routine?”
“Why would I mind talking with a beautiful woman?” He stared coldly at her.
“Because you don’t like talking?”
“Ye talk all the time.”
“Yeah, and it pisses you off.” Sam turned to Jan. “Have you pissed him off yet, or do you have a free pass?”
“I am not abrasive, unlike some people. I happen to believe in talking. It’s called making a deal, by the way—not foreplay.”
“I’ll take the foreplay. And so will Ian, by the way. So good luck—you’ll need it.” Sam said flatly. Then she turned her back on Jan. “Am I right, Maclean?”
Ian’s face tightened. He looked down at her supershort dress again. “Ye still plan on going to Hemmer’s? Or did ye dress fer me?”
“I’m going to Hemmer’s. How could I refuse that invite?”
He darkened.
“What’s wrong? Is my coworker boring you? I really don’t want to interrupt your rational, sex-free discussion. Maybe I should go. I didn’t realize our little sex date was off,” she lied.
He grasped her arm. “Ye won’t go to Hemmer’s alone.”
“Why not? I can certainly provide enough entertainment without you. I’m sure he’ll tape it. If you’re nice to him, maybe he’ll even make you a copy.” He was still angry, she thought. She couldn’t believe it, but she wouldn’t mind seeing his old arrogant, oversexed self again.
“Why do ye care so much about the evil in the vault? Why not just leave it be?”
“It’s my nature, Maclean, like it’s your nature to have Jan over for a drink. She won’t make you happy tonight, Maclean.”
He suddenly pulled her close. “But ye will?”
Sam met his hard, intense gaze. His tense, muscular body quivered against hers in that way she really liked. “I’ve been thinking about it,” she said softly. “I’ve been thinking about two hundred million dollars’ worth of sex.”
He slowly smiled. “Maybe I’ve let ye think about it fer too long.”
“A challenge,” she murmured. “I love challenges. Maybe you have.” She was hollow inside. His lust was all mixed up with the anger and the fear—she somehow knew it—and it was raging.
She knew where that rage could go.
Really, really deep inside.