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“I thought you told me you didn’t try to kill him.”
“I lied.”
“Why? What’s the sense in—”
Leanna poked the tip of the file against his belly. “Remember what you said about having a conversation, Mr. Knight? I’d keep that in mind, if I were you. No wine, no cheese, no explanations. I’m the one giving orders now.”
“Then try giving one that gets me off you. It’s difficult to think while you have that thing in my gut…and while you’re lying under me.”
Leanna felt her face flood with heat. He was right about the lying under him part. They were still pressed together like lovers—and as impossible as it seemed, he was still aroused, that hard ridge of his masculinity taut against her belly.
“Besides, if we don’t start doing something pretty soon, we’ll have a roomful of people demanding their money back.”
She blinked up at him. “What?”
His voice was whisper-soft, as if he were saying the things a man might say to a woman in bed.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t figure we’d have an audience.”
“You mean…watching?”
“Maybe. But they’re certainly listening.” A wolfish smile curved his lips. “How else will Asaad know when to make his move?”
It was her turn to be surprised. “You know he’s going to do something to you?”
“I figured as much, yeah.”
“Well, if you figured it, you must have an idea.”
A smart man would have but for the last half hour or so, Cam knew he’d been anything but smart. Still, he had the Beretta within hand’s reach.
And she had a knife at his gut.
“I do,” he said confidently.
“What is it?”
“You get that knife out of the way. Then I’ll tell you my plan.”
“Forget it.” She hesitated. “Isn’t there someplace we can talk without worrying about people hearing us?”
“Maybe.”
“Where?”
“The bathroom. It’s got marble walls and floors. We go in, close the door, turn on the water to drown out the sound of our voices and there’s a chance we can have maybe a five minute conversation before they get nervous.”
“If you’re right—if we’re being watched—won’t they wonder if we go into the bathroom together? It could only be so we can get away from them.”
“Not if we play our cards right.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m going to make a thing out of wanting to bathe you.”
The tip of the blade skidded against his belly.
“You use that thing, our chance of getting away goes from one to zero.” Cam eased back, his eyes never leaving hers. “You know what I want?” he said, his voice suddenly loud in the quiet of the room. “A bath. Scented oil, candles…”
