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Their progress was being noted. The tingling at the base of her spine was building, assuring her that whoever had been watching her for most of the night still had their eyes on her. She’d tried to pinpoint the sensation all evening and had yet to assign it to one particular guest, though she had her suspicions.
Whoever it was, they were good, better than she would have expected, considering the people she knew she was dealing with. Of course, they had been skating by for years now, they would have grown adept at hiding, she assured herself as John drew her straight to her own personal office.
The door had been locked earlier, but it wasn’t locked now. Her brows arched as he opened it and drew her inside before closing and locking it.
“Thank you for making such a spectacle of me.” She rounded him furiously. “You dragged me through my own party like a disobedient pet.”
“And you were growling at me every step of the way,” he glowered back at her. “What part of We need to talk didn’t you want to understand?”
“The needing to talk part?” She opened her eyes wide in false amazement. “Did you somehow manage to misunderstand me?”
She crossed her arms over her breasts as she lifted her brow in curiosity. “You don’t take no for an answer at all well, do you, Mr. Vincent?”
His lips twitched in amusement. Now, didn’t it just make her day to know she amused him in some small part?
“I must admit, I have problems with that word,” he finally replied. “Perhaps my mother said it too often when I was a child.”
She gave a short little snort at that. She doubted any woman had ever told him no.
“So what was so important that you felt the need to make a spectacle of me at my own party?” she asked coldly. “I hope it’s a matter of life or death, because really, there could be no other excuse for it.”
His brow lifted. The dark blond color against his sun-bronzed flesh was incredibly alluring. He could have been a fallen angel, too ruggedly handsome for words, and too charming for his own good.
“You play the part of the society princess very well,” he mused. “I wouldn’t have expected it of you.”
She gave a little shrug of her bare shoulders. “You could say it’s in the blood,” she retorted mockingly.
At least, that was what her mother had always assured her. That she had the blood of American royalty running through her veins and she should always remember it. There hadn’t been a single member of her mother’s or her father’s families who hadn’t married well, who hadn’t married into true blood, if not blue blood.
“It’s easy to forget when you’re trussed up, blindfolded, and gagged,” he murmured with a wealth of amusement now. “The society princess gets pushed behind by the gutter fighter then.” He rubbed at his jaw where she had managed to head-butt him months before in Atlanta.
“Back any animal into a corner and it’s going to come out biting,” she promised him. “Now, are you going to tell me what the hell you want or do I have to start guessing? I really don’t have time to guess, John.”
His lips pursed thoughtfully. “You’re still pissed over Atlanta, aren’t you?”
“And why would I be pissed over Atlanta?” she asked him. “You just kidnapped me and nearly drugged me. You were directly responsible for my release from the agency and you refused to help me in any way while I was there. So what reason would I have to be pissed?”
John nodded. “As I assumed, you really have no reason not to help me then.” His grin was confident and way too arrogant.
“And you live in a dream world that I can only envy, big boy. Someone should be kind and awaken you.”
His eyes narrowed warningly. “We have a situation, Bailey, a very delicate one.”
Now why didn’t that surprise her?
“Sucks to be you.” She wasn’t about to admit that she was blazingly curious about his situation. No doubt, knowing him, the men he worked with, and Milburn Rushmore, she could count on the fact that they wanted nothing more than to use her. Forget working with her, or her working with them. It just didn’t happen that way.
“You like pushing, don’t you?” he asked softly, dangerously.
“I like wasting my time as well,” she informed him haughtily. “Now why don’t you get the hell out of my way and let me get back to my party? I was rather enjoying it before you decided to intrude.”
She moved to grip the doorknob and slide the lock open when he shifted, turned—and before she knew it she found herself with her back against the panel, his large body pressing against hers, heating it further.
A sharp breath exhaled from Bailey’s lungs at the sensation of suddenly being flush against him, almost surrounded by him. It had obviously been too long since a man had touched her, too long since she had felt the warmth and hard thickness of an erection pressing against her, because her senses were rioting with it.
Bailey felt her knees weakening, her heart racing, her breath coming hard and fast.
God she wanted him. As thou
