Dark Taste of Rapture (18 page)

And you can’t kill your brother
, he reminded himself.

“And you two haven’t?” Dallas asked.

“No.”

“And you’d be okay if I … ?”

No!
“Yes.”

“Okay, good,” Dallas said in that quiet voice. “That’s good. I’m gonna go for it, then. Tonight. As long as you don’t care.”

“I … don’t.”

“Good, that’s good,” he repeated. “Bridesmaids can’t help themselves, either. The romance, you know. Practically puts a bull’s eye on their panties.”

Another forceful breath, in and out, careful, measured, followed by another. Hector tried to release his growing tension with every exhalation. Suddenly his hands burned, itched, and both sensations spread up, up, all the way to his shoulders, until he knew the skin beneath his jacket was glowing.

This was very, very bad.

He jumped to his feet. The pastor stuttered to silence, and every head in the room turned his way, including Noelle’s. He was careful to avoid her gaze as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, and shoved out of his row. Was that burning cloth he smelled? Despite the fact that he only ever wore fire-retardant clothing?

Without any kind of explanation, he stalked down the aisle and out of the chapel. Before he torched it and everyone in it to the ground.

W
HO KNEW A WEDDING
reception attended by stone-cold killers would prove to be the party of the century?

Noelle hid in a corner in back of the spacious ballroom, swathed in shadows, trying to take everything in. The walls were painted to look as if they’d been covered in pink lace. Glasses were clinking, conversations were raucous, and champagne and chocolate scented the air. Laughter abounded, as did the sucking sounds of a good kiss. A lot of people were getting down and dirty wherever they happened to be. A few down and dirtiers were even by the buffet table, rattling the dishes when gyrating hips met stone.

McKell had Ava on the dance floor, bumping and grinding and generally looking epileptic. So did everyone else on that floor, for that matter, moving to the hard, fast rock buzzing from strategically placed speakers. An elegant, twinkling teardrop chandelier winked over the seizers, highlighting their every blackmail-worthy nuance. She’d already done a little covert videoing
from her cell, and planned to torture the agents for the rest of their lives.

“What are you doing over here all by your lonesome?” a male voice suddenly asked.

A flick of her gaze, and she realized Dallas had sidled up beside her. She’d have to pay better attention. Sensing a possible threat was necessary for her job, after all. Although Dallas didn’t look threatening today. In his pristine suit, with his dark hair slicked back, his dark complexion flawless, and his electric eyes bright, he was handsome in a fallen angel kind of way, half innocence, half wicked temptation.

And he’d said something to her, she recalled. “I’m two-fisting drinks with dignity,” she replied, toasting him with both of her nearly empty glasses. Her earlier buzz had already worn off, and she was looking for another.

His lips twitched, even as his gaze swept down the length of her, heating with desire.

Desire? Surely not. Not after the distant way he’d treated her lately.

“Darling,” he said, “I hate to break it to you, but you lost your dignity the moment you walked down that aisle. In my mind, I already had you stripped.”

So seductively uttered, so charmingly delivered, she found herself grinning with genuine amusement for the first time that day. “I do know how to rock a fantasy, don’t I?”

The desire, or whatever it was, cranked up a notch, turning those vivid eyes into a kaleidoscope of differing shades of blue. “Please tell me that’s not the only thing you rock.”

A chuckle bubbled from her. “Tsk, tsk. I almost think you’re flirting with me.”

“If you
almost think
then I’m not doing a good enough job.” His voice dropped a few octaves, going husky, layered with a needy rasp. “So, let me clear things up. I
am
flirting with you. Is it working?”

Her heart began to thud against her ribs. Not from arousal but from surprise and, well, quite frankly, unease. He was Hector’s friend. So if he was flirting with her this heavily, he didn’t think Hector would mind.

Hell, maybe Hector had even told him to go for it.

Her heart thudded harder, and she was disgusted with herself. Why did she care what Hector did, said? Or what he didn’t do, didn’t say?

She
didn’t
care.

She wouldn’t let herself care.

“No response?” Dallas asked silkily.

Oh, she had a response, all right. “Why now?” She drained one of her glasses, then the other, and handed them both to him. “First few months we knew each other, you treated me like a mischievous kid sister. Lately, I’ve been a diseased gutter rat.”

He lifted one finger, the universal sign for one sec, and trotted off to set the glasses on a passing waiter’s tray. When he returned, his hands were empty. Probably a wise thing, not plying her with more liquor. She’d start babbling about her kisses with Hector, her dreams about Hector.

Hector, Hector, Hector. Where the hell was he? Why had he stormed out of the chapel?

Dallas jumped back into the conversation as if he
couldn’t wait another moment to engage her. “Let’s just say there were complications, and leave it at that.”

Intriguing. “Little known fact about me. I can’t leave
anything
at that. So, staying with the topic. What were the complications and how do they no longer apply?”

One strong shoulder lifted in a deceptively casual shrug. “I won’t tell you what they are, but I will tell you that they’re diminishing in importance.”

“Why?” Damn, but her curiosity was piqued in a huge way.

He released a wary sigh. “I’m certain I was wrong about one aspect of the—I was wrong, that’s all. And don’t you dare ask about what.”

“About what were you wrong?”

“Huh-uh.” Grinning like the imp he was, he shook his head, dark hair falling over his brow. “I’m not telling, and you can’t make me. Not dressed, at least.”

Clearly, he was an expert at flirting, and yet still she didn’t soften toward him. “I took a class on interrogation, you know. There are ways to make a guy talk that involve a handful of thumb tacks and, drum roll, being fully clothed.”

“Why don’t you dance with me instead?” Not giving her time to protest, he twined their fingers and ushered her to the dance floor, where he stopped and drew her into the hard line of his body.

He must have cued the band, because the music instantly turned soft and slow. For a long while, they swayed, silent, each lost in thought. Hers: this was
almost nice. He smelled good, like soap and the after-sweetness of a rainstorm. Heat radiated off him, enveloping her.

And yet,
still
no attraction.

Sighing, she flattened her hands on his chest and pushed. Just a little, just to achieve a few inches of distance. He pulled her back in, closer … closer … until their chests were flush.

“There, isn’t this better?” he asked in that seductive tone, his breath fanning her cheek.

“Depends on what you’re comparing it to. Better than a root canal? Yes. Better than a pedicure? No.”

“Ouch. Harsh, Elle. Harsh.”

“Honest.” Elle. All the men in her life eventually called her Elle. A soft nickname for the soft girl they assumed her to be. Or rather, wanted her to be. Little wonder she longed to punch every one of them in the face when they used it.

Not that she’d ever admit the truth, however. Expressing your displeasure with something was tantamount to begging to be tortured by it.

Dallas’s hand slid down her back and landed on the curve of her ass. His fingers splayed, covering as much ground as possible. “Besides the pedicure, what do you consider better than this?”

Where to begin? “Long walks on the beach, even if it’s freezing outside. Good—or cheap—wine in front of a crackling hearth. Chicken noodle soup. But it has to be made from real chickens, and not that syn-shit, or I’ll have to strike it from the list. A lukewarm bubble bath, a mediocre book, a—”

“Okay, okay. God,” he said with a laugh. “You are hell on a guy’s ego.”

“Yours needing some stroking?”

“
Something
of mine needs stroking,” he muttered, “but it’s not my ego.”

“Yeah, I can feel your something,” she replied dryly. “Can you move that thing already? It’s annoying.”

“Annoyingly big, you mean.”

“Define big.”

Another warm, rich chuckle left him. “Fine. Give me a minute.” He pulled back long enough to reach into his pants pocket. Her mouth fell open.

“I didn’t mean—” She stopped. He was readjusting his erection in front of everyone!

Only he withdrew a pyre-gun, the crystal dull rather than sparking, indicating the safety was on, and stuffed the weapon in the waist of his slacks, behind him. Then he drew her back into his embrace.

“Now. Is
that
better?”

The shock had yet to leave her. “Now who’s hell on an ego?” she grumbled, her cheeks just a bit hot.

“Then let’s help each other out and revisit the whole stroking issue, hmm?”

Incorrigible sex fiend. And she wished, really and truly wished, she desired him. Even in the minutest amount. He was fun, funny, and probably a damn good lover.

“You know, Dallas,” she said, straightening to gauge his reaction. “I have this friend …”

The light in his eyes expanded, only to be crushed a moment later as his pupils expanded, too, the black
pulsing. Just as Hector’s had done each time before they’d kissed, and then again yesterday when he’d eyed her black leather. “Is she a mild-mannered AIR agent by day and an insatiable nymphomaniac by night?”

Why wasn’t Noelle attracted to him again? Because this shit was amusing. “Her name is Hope Van Der Pyke.”

“And does she—wait.” The pupils retreated to normal size, and he lost his glaze of excitement and desire. “What?”

“She’s very pretty. Very wealthy. Kinda snobby, though. Anyway, you’re exactly her type.”

“Are you trying to set me up?” he said, nearly choking on the words. “With someone else? While I’m laying my best moves on you?”

“These are your best? Wait, never mind. Don’t answer that. I’d just have to feel sorry for you. So, to answer
your
question, yeah. I am.” His incredulity was adorable, and she couldn’t help but twist the knife deeper. “Is there a problem?”

“But I saw … we’re supposed to …”

One of her brows rose. This was more interesting by the moment. “We’re supposed to what?”

A pause. Then a heated, “Fuck.”

O-kay. “Do you mean that as a verb or a curse?”

“Both.” He released her to run a hand down his face, once, twice, three times. With the first, he revealed confusion. With the second, anger, and with the third self-deprecation tinged with humor.

His arms returned to her waist, but there was no drawing her in. Not this time.

“Want to tell me what just happened?” she asked.

“No.” Another grumble.

“Do it anyway before I show you the blades I’m carrying.”

At least his humor intensified, his lips quirking at the corners. “Violent women really crank my chain.”

“
Annnd
, not what I wanted to know.”

“Forgive me,” he said, fingers stroking up and down her spine. In reflex, she thought, rather than in a bid to arouse her. “This is just so new to me.”

“What? Being let down gently?”

“Not that. You’ll find this difficult to believe, I know, but I’m turned down flat all the time. I’m not sure why, either.”

She snorted. She just couldn’t help herself. “Yeah, that’s a real mind puzzler.”

“Hey. Is that sarcasm I detect?”

“Oh, Dallas,” she said, reaching up to pat his cheek. “Somehow you have turned the blackest day of my life into one that’s merely dark and gloomy. Thank you.”

He frowned. “Blackest day? Why? You look happy to me.”

Damn. She shouldn’t have let that slip out. “What are you talking about? I am happy.”

“But you just said … I just … Never mind. You’ll only tax my poor, abused brain further. So, here’s an admission for you, and an answer to one of your earlier questions. I saw this day … saw us … and we ended up in … Oh, never mind.”

“Tell me.”

“I—” The song ended, and his arms fell to his side,
severing contact. “Uh, I’m needed elsewhere, so I’ll see you around, Noelle.” Off Dallas raced, never once glancing back.

“Well, okay, then,” Noelle muttered. Her gaze landed on Ava, who was peering up at McKell with utter adoration.

I want that
, she thought.

Suddenly done with the party scene, and craving a minute alone, she took off in the opposite direction, heading for the back door. No one tried to stop her, and for that she was immensely grateful.

Outside, the parking lot was spread out around her. The sun was hidden behind dark, gray clouds, the air damp and cool. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the wall. She’d lived through the worst of the day. She could deal with anything else.