Escape Magic (5 page)

Lydia remained perfectly calm. Tony knew
she’d probably already worked her way out of the knot, or at least
knew how to, but she gave no indication of it. “How on earth could
I possibly—oops!” She held up her hands with the rope dangling from
one and gave him a little push away from her. “Did you lose
something, Samir?”

“Just his pride.” Tony recognized the little
toadlike man who spoke as Phil, an illusionist. He frowned,
searching his mind. Had Phil even been invited? Before he could
speak, Phil made a beckoning motion. “Everybody pay up.”

“Not the right venue, Phil.” Tony stepped
forward as Lydia took the wine from the handsome magician’s
fingers. Tony noticed a line of empty wine glasses on the table
next to her. It wasn’t the first bet, then. His resolution to put a
stop to the illicit activities strengthened into an almost
protective resolve. “Lydia.”

She glanced at Tony as she sipped the wine.
“What? You want to go next?” She dangled the rope in front of him.
At his disbelieving look, she laughed. “Sorry, don’t have any
cuffs. You have to bring your own.”

He gave her a suspicious look. “Are you
drunk?”

“Probably not nearly enough.” Her voice
sounded clear, but her words made him uncertain.

“Well, I’m not playing, and neither are any
of you.” He glared around at the others in the group as he took
Lydia’s arm and half helped, half lifted her off the table. “You’re
not messing up my brother’s wedding day this way. And Phil, were
you even invited?”

“I figured my invitation got lost in the
mail.” Phil grinned toothily.

Tony understood.
Dear God, there but for
your grace…
He stopped himself. “Get out. Quietly. And the rest
of you should call it a night, too, probably.” He gave them all a
scathing glare then turned away, pulling Lydia along with him.
“Stupid sons of bitches. And what the hell, Lydia? I thought you
had better sense.”

They were in the lobby by this point and she
yanked her arm away from his grasp, turning to glare at him.
“What’s your damage? I wasn’t doing anything wrong. It was just a
little fun.”

“A little fun that looked like it was well
on its way to being a gang rape.”

“It was no such thing. You’re projecting.”
She glared at him, her hands on her hips.

“Projecting
what
? Disgust?” He faced
her.

Just then, a door opened to the side and a
couple came out. Lydia’s head swiveled to watch them and they both
ducked, half hiding their faces. Tony frowned at the cloakroom door
as it swung closed behind them. “You’re joking.”

She chortled. “Nope. Looks like they were
having a little fun, too. C’mon.”

“What?” He held back as she grabbed his hand
and started that way.

“Come
on
.” She tugged at his hand.
“If they’ve just come out, it’s available. Let’s go.” She grinned,
waggling her eyebrows at him. “I’ll show you what you were
projecting. You can’t tell me you don’t want to.”

Her words brought on a surge of unexpected
desire. “Jesus.” He hesitated a second more.
Why the hell am I
hesitating?
He let her pull him in the door and shut it behind
him.

The cloakroom was large and airy, far from
the stuffy confines he’d expected. No cloaks or coats or even
sweaters hung on the long pole that stretched from one end of the
room to the other. A few mittens and scarves and other articles of
clothing littered the countertop. Of course, there were no cloaks,
Tony reminded himself. No one had cloaks in Vegas. “Why the hell
does this place have a cloakroom?”

She reached onto the shelf and pulled down a
silk scarf, probably long forgotten. “For this.” She turned,
twirling the scarf in her fingers, winding it into a rope. “I
challenged you earlier.”

“That was a challenge? I thought you were
just flirting with me.” He let her loop the scarf around his neck
and pull him closer. “You’re drunk.”

“Not really. Not so much I don’t know what
I’m doing, anyway.” She met his gaze. “Kiss me, Tony. I dare
you.”

Unable to resist the temptation, he tasted
her lips. The contact sent a jolt through him he hadn’t expected,
however, and he wanted more. He turned his head a little without
breaking the contact and her mouth opened to him, warm and wet,
welcoming his tongue with her own. He lifted her onto the counter
and she wound her legs around his waist, her hips grinding against
his. “Dear God.”

She drew away. “I really want you to tie me
up.”

He shook his head. “No.”

She leaned forward and kissed his neck. “Why
not?”

He drew in a sharp breath and pulled back,
startled by the intensity of the desire her soft kiss started in
him. “Because you’re drunk and I don’t want to take advantage of
you.” The absurdity of his statement hit him as she cocked an
eyebrow at him and took his hands in hers and placed them on her
breasts.

“You think you could tie a knot I couldn’t
get out of?” She looped her arms around his neck again.
“Really?”

He turned his head and swept in to cover her
mouth with his again, felt her lips part, her thick hair a fragrant
fall over his face as she gave in to his kiss. They parted, both
breathless, and he searched for something sane to say. “I could tie
you up, but only because I can tie a knot.”

Her lips curved. “What exactly does that
mean?”

“It means I don’t know why you even want me
to try.” He pulled the scarf from his neck.

She looked thoughtful. “I have yet to find a
man who can tie a knot that’ll hold me.”

He considered, sliding the scarf through his
fingers, enjoying the silky texture, thinking that it was but a
pale echo of what her skin must feel like. “Why would I try?”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “You tie a
knot that’ll hold me and I’ll let you do…anything…” she drew one
long red nail over the silk of his black tuxedo shirt and her eyes
flickered back up to his. “
Anything
you want to me.”

Jesus, help me.
For a second, he
honestly couldn’t breathe, then he managed to suck air into his
lungs and reply. “I didn’t know you were into that kind of
thing.”

“I’m not. Why do you think I’m an escape
artist? No man will ever have that kind of power over me.” Her
voice sounded breathless, too. “In fact, it says something that I
am willing to let
you
try.”

“If you can get out of any knot, what’s the
draw for me?” He raised his eyebrows. “Seriously, why try if I’m
going to fail?”

She appeared to consider, then leaned
forward. Her lips teased his, skimming, tasting, then moving away.
“I think it’s because I believe you can tie a knot I won’t
want
to escape from.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this. You’re not what
I need right now.” But even as he spoke, he dug his hand into her
red-gold mane of hair, pulling her roughly into a deeper kiss,
feeling as if he’d like to devour her. He could smell the scent of
her shampoo mixing with the heady fragrance of her perfume and the
musky smell of her skin. Combined with the taste of her mouth, she
was sweeter than any alcohol, more potent than any drug, more
addictive and frightening than any gamble.

And more dangerous than any of the
above.

****

He was so right. Even drunk off his kiss and
surging from his caress, she knew he was right. They weren’t what
each other needed. But that didn’t stop the
want
, and right
then it was the want that she felt able to follow. Besides, what
did it matter? It was one night. One night of satisfying the
craving and she could move on.

She pulled away. “You’re right. We can’t do
this here. Take me back to my place.”

His eyes narrowed, his hands on her
shoulders. “I’ll take you to
my
place.”

“You don’t have a place. You have a
room.”

“A suite, actually. And I didn’t want to
mention it, but it’s nicer than yours. And closer.” He stepped
away, pulling her off the counter and into his arms. He bent his
head and kissed her again, the warmth of his embrace and taste of
his mouth enough to meld her objections into a reluctant
acceptance.

“Fine. Just get me there. Soon.” The last
word came out in spite of her attempt to hold it back and she
blinked. Damn she wanted him. And she refused to look at her desire
any closer.

He led her through the front lobby and out
to the valet stand. When the valet approached, he held up his hand,
motioning at the approaching limo with authority. She wondered how
he’d done that. She hadn’t noticed him making a call. But then, she
was still feeling the effects of the wine…and him.

In the back of the limo, she let him draw
her into his lap and kiss her, his hands trailing down her arms…she
felt the silken touch of the scarf on her wrists and smiled against
his mouth. “I knew you couldn’t resist.”

“The opportunity to tie up Lady Lydia? No
way in hell.” His own hands were busy tying her hands. A simple
figure of eight knot. She smiled a little.

“You’re not taking this very seriously.”

“You said it all depended on how much you
wanted
to get loose.” He moved his hands to her hips and
pulled her down against him, letting her feel the steel of his
erection. “I thought I’d put it to the test.”

She sucked in her breath with a soft moaning
sound and pressed down against him, longing to feel more of him.
But her eyes caught the look of triumph that passed over his face
and she forced herself to slow down. She could slip the knot
easily, throw the scarf back into his face, but he knew she could
do that. What didn’t he know?

Keeping her smile internal, she moved her
hips over his, sliding rhythmically as she covered his lips with
hers. Her hands were bound behind her, but she had other resources.
“Touch me.” She whispered the words against his mouth, commanding
when she should have submitted to his will.

His lips parted with a soft sound. A whoosh,
a sigh, almost a groan…almost a word. Acceptance of her power. His
hands moved over her abdomen, her ribcage, her breasts, caressed
her nipples through the fabric of her dress. And she could feel him
wanting more.

When had the limo stopped? She looked around
in bewilderment, crashing back to earth. God, did they really have
to stop
now
?

He’d already reached for her zipper. “It’s
okay. He won’t disturb us. No one will.”

“Oh.” At the first touch of his hand on her
back, she jerked away. “Maybe, but I will.” She held up the
loosened scarf. “Not here, Tony.”

A flash of irritation, a reluctant grin.
“Jesus, Lydia. You’re going to drive me insane.” He shifted and
pushed her off his lap. “I’m going to need a minute.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds, then
she turned toward him, running a teasing finger along his jaw. “Why
is it we haven’t we done this before?”

He caught her hand and kissed her fingertip.
“You’re not helping.”

She laughed. “If you only knew what I’m
not
doing that I would
like
to do…”

“
Really
not helping.” He sighed. “And
I guess we never did this because I thought you had a thing for
Andre.”

“Really?” She paused, thoughtful. “I
admired
Andre. I could tell how good he was. And we flirted
a little, but I never really…and I don’t think he did either.”

His green eyes fixed on her face for a
moment, and she felt like he was searching her for the real truth.
Finally he nodded and moved toward the door. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She held back, but he opened the
limo door and reached back to grasp her hand and pull her out with
him.

He pinned her against him with one arm,
lifting his hand to brush her hair back with gentle fingers. “Okay.
I accept that you’re not hung up on my brother and never really
were. And believe me—” he bent his head and kissed her, a long,
deep, probing kiss as if they were already in the bedroom instead
of at the front door of a swanky Vegas hotel with several guests
and a couple of valets looking on. He drew away and looked into her
eyes again, “—I’m grateful, because it’s gonna make this night much
less weird for me.”

When she stepped inside his suite, Lydia
looked around in wonder. Everything was glass and shiny metal and
black leather. It glittered and shone, glamorous and lovely. She
let out a low whistle. “Well, you’re right. This is nicer than my
suite.”

“It’s the difference between getting what
you pay for and what management feels you’ll earn.” He tossed his
key card onto the marble entry table and pulled her back into his
arms. “Can I get you anything? Wine?”

“I think I’ve had enough wine.” She looped
her arms around his neck. “I had something else entirely in
mind.”

“Thank God.” He lowered his mouth to hers,
found the zipper at her back and pulled it down. His warm palms
explored the smooth skin of her back and she arched against him,
her nipples aching for his touch. He laughed. “You’re still wearing
entirely too many clothes.”

“Me?” She ran her hands over his chest and
pushed the tuxedo jacket away. It dropped to the floor, joining her
dress.

“Yes.” He slid one finger under each of the
thin straps of her simple cami slip and pulled them down over her
shoulders. “You.” His eyes on hers, he continued the process, inch
by inch revealing her breasts. He smiled a little as if at his own
powerlessness to resist the temptation and dropped his gaze just as
her breasts were completely revealed. “My God, you’re
beautiful.”

Why
did those totally unoriginal
words have such power? Maybe it was the way he spoke them, as if
they were the only thought he was capable of having in that moment.
Certainly the reverently tender way his hands explored her body
made her feel as if his entire attention was taken up by her. He
wasn’t thinking of box scores or stock quotes or anything else but
how to please her.