Her 24-Hour Protector. Loreth White Anne
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his mind.
What if the legend was true?
Natalie, the LVMPD cop—Jenna’s sister and Candace’s twin—had fallen in love while investigating the ring’s disappearance. Then Amanda Patterson, whose purse it was found in, ended up marrying Luke Montgomery in a true Cinderella series of events. After which Silver Hesse Rothchild, a stepsister of Jenna’s, had found true love with her bodyguard after a mere passing acquaintance with the ring. Even defense lawyer Conner Rothchild had fallen head over heels for Vera Mancuso, an exotic dancer, after he’d spotted her flashing the ring during a steamy striptease. Vera was probably the most inappropriate woman a man like Rothchild could possibly end up with.
Enduring love—it was one of the promises of The Tears of the Quetzal.
Given the odd series of romantic events in the preceding months one might actually be forgiven for thinking this ring held mysterious power, thought Lex, watching the light curl into itself in the stone, as if a sentient thing. Alive. Shimmering. All-knowing. He snorted softly, trying to brush aside the hypnotic power the thing seemed to be exerting over him.
Then he thought of Candace and the flip side to the supposed Mayan curse on this stone. And a cold chill rippled over his skin again as he stared at it, his heart beginning to beat even faster, a strange sensation beginning to settle through him. Lex couldn’t say why or what possessed him but he suddenly pocketed the ring, leaving the box empty as he locked the evidence door.
“So, what are you doing in Sin City, Lex?”
Lex regarded Jenna warily, his body language defensive as he sat across the table from her. His job tonight was to work Jenna Rothchild for whatever information he could. And then get out fast.
But things were already going sideways.
Jenna was clearly in the driver’s seat. Having her limo pull up at his humble suburban driveway was no doubt a power play on her part. So was her “request” to be greeted with a bouquet of white flowers.
During the limo ride Jenna had plied him with top Scotch en route to one of the most opulent establishments in a city already renowned for excess. More cocktails awaited at the restaurant, which she’d reserved solely for the two of them—an octagonal, glassed-in affair that revolved slowly over the Vegas skyline. Candles shimmered in crystal holders on every table, a silvery sheet of water cascaded over a rock feature into a pool of lilies in the center of the room, while staff, dressed in black and white, stood discreetly in the shadows. And sitting at a baby grand, tinkling ivories for them alone, was a renowned singer from New Orleans with husky jazz vocals to rival the best of Nina Simone.
Lex would bet his last red casino chip that Jenna’s choice of music was intentional. Somehow she’d known he loved jazz.
That meant she knew way too much about him.
“I hear you’ve been in town nine months now, Lex, and that you put in for the transfer to the Vegas field office from your post in Washington.”
Definitely too much.
Jenna smiled the smile of a woman who knew exactly what wattage she generated. She was dressed in pure, virginal white and looked anything but virginal. Her blouse was low-cut, sheer. Her palazzo pants were silky. She wore them over impossibly high strappy gold sandals, and Lex had been unable to stop himself from fixating on the way the fabric had swished around her long legs when she walked. Or was that sashayed? Jenna didn’t do anything ordinary like “walk.”
In contrast to the white silk, her butter-smooth skin was tanned a soft biscuit-brown, and her limbs were taut—a woman with time for the pool and the gym. She looked vibrant, athletic, radiantly alive. And somehow sophisticated at the same time. Pure privileged casino princess. And way out of his league. Hell, she was out of his freaking hemisphere.
Her eyes glinted with some secret amusement as she waited for him to answer. Lex wondered if it was his obvious discomfort that she found so entertaining. “And you got this information from who?” he said guardedly.
She swiveled the stem of the crystal glass. “Let’s just say I mounted a little covert investigation of my own.” Her eyes slanted up. “I learned quite a few things about you, agent.”
“Including the fact I like jazz?”
“Maybe.” She smiled.
“Cassie Mills? Did she wheedle it out of my partner, Perez, at the gym?”
“Perhaps.” She took a slow sip of champagne, eyes fixed on his with a directness that made him think of sex. “Is that why the feds paid Cassie a visit today?”
He leaned forward, irritation beginning to lance dangerously through the lust burning a hot and persistent coal into his gut. “How about we just cut to the chase, Jenna? Are you trying to compromise the investigation? Is that what the auction stunt was about?”
Maybe he’d just blown his chance at getting anything out of princess here, but he’d had his fill. Spending any more time with Jenna Rothchild was going to be real bad for his health. And quite possibly his job. Because no matter what Quinn had ordered, Lex could see himself taking the fall if this so-called “under the covers” operation—a farce if he ever saw one—went downhill. And because this murder and this Vegas family was so high-profile, FBI top brass would need to make an example of him. He could smell it all from a mile away.
And it stunk.
She cast her eyes down, tracing her fingertips slowly, seductively along the silver knife alongside her plate. Lex felt his body go hot.
“No, Lex,” she said finally. “I did not set you up to mess with the investigation.” She lifted her eyes. “I’ll concede, though, that I did know you were the lead in the investigation, but when I glimpsed you at Natalie’s wedding and saw your photo in the paper, I also knew you’d be the star of my bachelor auction, if I could get you. I also figured it would be a tough sell to get you to play because of your involvement with the case, so I kept my name out of it and sent Cassie to talk to Rita instead. We learned you had a thing for the Nevada Orphans Fund, so I swung the entire event around you. And then, when I saw you up on that stage, half-naked and getting all hot under your tie, well—” she paused, watching him intently “—I just had to have you for myself.” She placed her cool hand over his. “Does that make you angry, Special Agent Duncan?”
Lex tried not to flush. Crap, he didn’t even know where to look for a moment. She was flat out, shamelessly, seducing him. Or mocking him.
How far did she really want to go? He glanced down at her hand, her slender fingers splaying slowly over his, and perspiration prickled under his dress shirt. The idea he could have sex, tonight, with this intensely gorgeous young heiress—if he so chose—lodged hot and fast and sharp in his very male mind. And Lex knew he wasn’t going to get the image out of his head any time soon. His gut turned molten, and his brain felt thick. Quinn’s words crawled into his mind.
The legal stuff will be in the clear as long as you keep your hands off her.
Yeah, sex was the last thing he needed.
“Look, I don’t know what game you’re playing, Rothchild, but I’m not buying the fact you just felt like raising money for an arbitrary charity, for fun.”
She made a moue. “You are angry.” She feathered the back of his hand softly with her long red nails. “But you do look rather cute when you’re worked up.” Leaning forward, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “I knew there was a fire buried somewhere inside that buttoned-up suit of yours.” She slipped her manicured nails gently between his fingers as she spoke.
Heat arrowed straight to his groin. “I don’t like being played, Jenna,” he said, his voice thick. “You know what I think? The real reason behind this whole auction gig is to