Dance with the Devil

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Authors: Cherry Adair
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she seemed satisfied and she, too, left the room.
    Silence throbbed around them for several seconds after the door closed behind her. He used those seconds to hold Mia, but dropped his arms the moment she stepped away.
    She pushed open the doors and stepped into the brighter light of the bedroom. “I’ll use the bathroom while you check the disk. Then we can split.”
    â€œYeah,” he said easily. “Sure.” You’re not getting rid of me quite that easily, precious. Hang on, it’s going to be one helluva ride.
    At the door to the bathroom she paused to look at him over her shoulder. “What just happened between us, didn’t prove—or change—anything.”
    Jack found that slitty, snake-eyed look of hers sexy as hell. He had it bad. “Then you’re deaf, dumb and blind, darling,” he told her with silky menace. “That proved everything. ”
    â€œThat’s always been your problem, Jack. You honest to God believe that sex is the answer to everything. Purse?” She held out her hand. Jack slapped the small clutch he’d stuffed in his pocket earlier into her palm. “You’re too obtuse even to know there’s a question.”
    He walked over and locked the bedroom door again. This time he shoved a chair under it. “I know the question, sweetheart.” He turned back to face her across the room. “I’m just not sure you can take the answer.”
    â€œNeither am I,” she said quietly as she stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
    For a second Mia leaned against the bathroom door without turning on the light. Stupid, stupid, stupid. What on earth had she been thinking? Sex with Jack Ryan? In a closet of all places? She shook her head, then pushed herself away from the door and fumbled in the dark for the switch.
    Soft, flattering lighting flooded the opulent bathroom. It wasn’t particularly flattering to her. Her hair stood up like a startled cockatoo, her blush was completely off one cheek, and her mascara had run, making her look like a raccoon. Most attractive.
    Mia conducted an intense monologue under her breath as she straightened her clothing. First things first. She had to remove her bra and put it on again. How the hell had it been turned inside out while she was wearing it? Her unlucky thong was gone. Better check the floor of the closet. She didn’t even remember Jack removing it. She met her own eyes in the mirror as she combed her hair. She looked as though she’d had wild, wonderful sex, for God’s sake!
    â€œAre you out of your mind?” she asked her reflection. Apparently yes, she was. She’d not only allowed Jack to make love to her—but she’d enjoyed it. And oh boy, how she’d enjoyed it. Staring at the rumpled woman in the mirror, Mia let her mind drift to those last few moments in the shadows when Mrs. Whozit and her trained stud had been setting the rhythm that she and Jack had followed. To those few shining moments when the whole world had been wrapped around her and buried within her. To the flash of rightness she’d felt as Jack’s climax echoed her own.
    â€œOh, man.” She glared at the ceiling and told herself she was the Champion Moron of the Century. “Wonder if there’s a trophy?”
    She used the facilities, then dug in her small clutch for emergency cosmetics to make herself halfway presentable. Not for Jack, of course. She didn’t care if she looked like a startled raccoon for Jack. After all, he was the designer of her dishabille. But she did have to exit through the party guests downstairs.
    She had to wipe off the smudged mess she’d made of her lip gloss and reapply it. She realized her hand was shaking.
    He made her nuts. Crazy. Insane.
    Her body ached. She wanted him again. Worse. She was tempted to take him back on his terms—hell, any terms. How was that for pathetic? Or maybe she’d move up

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