Lora Leigh - Guilty Pleasure

“Perhaps because no one has demanded the truth from him.” It was Alyssa who broke the silence.

Though she was serene and composed, her regal features somehow were heartbreakingly set into lines of thoughtfulness.

“No one has ever gotten close enough to him to get the answers they demand,” Courtney interjected. “Making him invest himself will be the hard part. That’s not something Khalid does easily.”

There had to be a reason for that, though. As the waiter appeared with menus the subject was dropped, but Marty had to admit the questions the conversation had raised intrigued her.

As Courtney said, Khalid didn’t invest himself in his relationships. The women he slept with weren’t his own; they were the wives or lovers of other men. He was the third in the relationships she had managed to uncover.

Not that it was ever easy to figure out who Khalid was involved with. But over the years she had developed an internal radar where he was concerned. She could sense whenever he was with a woman and if he was sleeping with her.

What would it take to get Khalid to invest himself in her? To steal his heart? God knew she had waited for him long enough, hungered for him with a power that kept other men at arm’s length despite the loneliness that often plagued her.

She wasn’t a one-night stand. And she couldn’t force herself to begin a relationship with another man only to manipulate him into bringing Khalid in as a third. That would never be enough for her. It could never satisfy the need inside her.

“Speak of the devil.” Courtney said, drawing Marty’s attention as the waiter refreshed their ice water. “There is our elusive prey, my dear. Watch how he moves through the crowd, his gaze scanning, searching faces. Perhaps he’s looking for you?”

Marty’s gaze was drawn to the dance floor where, as Courtney pointed out, Khalid was moving through the throng of dancers, his gaze restless, his expression predatory.

Dressed in that white silk shirt and those blue jeans, he looked every inch the dangerous creature he truly was. Silk could never hide the strength in his body or the determination in his eyes.

Marty watched curiously as he paused at the edge of the dance floor, his gaze sweeping around once more before it lifted, and within seconds met hers.

A brutal punch of sensation slammed into her womb as his black eyes captured hers and held them. Heat flushed her body, bringing her nerve endings to life as they sizzled with anticipation and the memory of a touch so filled with pleasure that they ached for more.

Her breasts became swollen, her nipples hard. Her clit swelled instantly and throbbed as she felt her sex begin to heat, to dampen.

Her lips parted as she watched him, her breathing became harder, rougher. The memory of his touch swept through her, weakening her until she wondered whether her knees would hold her up if she actually stood to her feet.

For long, brutally intense seconds he held her gaze, stroking her with his eyes alone before his attention was pulled from her, leaving her shaking and fighting to hide the effect he had on her.

“My God,” Courtney whispered at her side. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like that.”

Swallowing tightly, Marty looked at her with an edge of desperation. “What are you talking about?”

“Dearest, he was eating you with his eyes.” A satisfied smile curled Courtney’s lips. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Khalid stare at another woman quite like that.”

“He hasn’t,” Alyssa stated. “Khalid is always cool and composed. It’s his trademark.”

“Tonight, he lost that trademark.” Courtney fanned her face with her hand. “I’ll definitely have to tell Ian about this.”

“Why? According to you, he doesn’t share information with you,” Marty stated in irritation.

“Well, this is true.” Courtney nodded. “But perhaps he just needs a bit of a nudge and a small incentive.” Her gaze twinkled in knowing amusement. “Sometimes a woman simply must use the right bit of bait to lure in the information she needs.”

“Or the man she needs,” Alyssa murmured, her gaze catching Marty’s. “Stop holding back, Marty. You keep waiting for him to come to you, and we all know Khalid has a will of steel. He can control himself with exemplary strength. But he can’t control you. You’re your own ace in the hole.”

“Damn, she’s good.” Courtney sat back and looked at Alyssa in admiration. “Aly, I want to be you when I grow up.”

“You’ll never grow up,” Alyssa shot back, her expression never shifting, as she flicked a look Courtney’s way. “You’re frickin’ Peter Pan.”

“Well, if I ever do.” Courtney shrugged with a laugh. “But I do believe you’ve pinpointed Marty’s problem.”

“Of course I have,” Alyssa responded archly, as she sat back and straightened her dress. “She’s always watching and waiting. Khalid’s always standing back and finding other things to distract him, simply because he’s a man. If she wants him, then she’s going to have to stop worrying about getting hurt and throw herself into the ring.”

Marty turned and found Khalid in the crowd once again. He was at a table with two other men. She knew those men. Sebastian De-Lorents, a Spaniard and one of the newest members of the social set Marty had been raised in.

If she wasn’t mistaken, he used to work for Interpol and was now the new manager of Ian Sinclair’s club and had been a friend of Courtney’s for years. However, it was the man sitting with them who had her gaze narrowing. Shayne Connor was an undercover CIA agent who worked out of the Middle East and often infiltrated terrorist cells known to be moving into the United States.

He was a deep-cover agent, and a very dangerous one. A man that even the FBI was often wary of when working with him. Her question was, what the hell was he doing in Alexandria with Khalid and Sebastian?

“Interesting,” Alyssa murmured at her side. “Now what makes you think those three are not discussing the latest stock reports?”

Marty almost snorted at that one. Each man’s expression was carefully composed as they spoke. They appeared relaxed; they even smiled; but there was something about their eyes, about the tense set of their bodies that told another story.

“Shayne Connor,” Courtney stated, her voice low. “I haven’t seen him in years.”

“You know him?” Marty’s gaze swung to her friend.

Courtney nodded. “He and Bastian partied extensively in Europe and especially in Spain for a while. Shayne’s family disowned him, you know, though a sizable inheritance from his American grandfather allowed him to maintain the lifestyle he had been raised in.”

“Disowned him?” Marty’s brow arched. This was a story she hadn’t yet heard on the ever elusive Shayne. “Why?”

Courtney turned back to her, a hint of worry in her gaze now, before she breathed out roughly. “For his suspected involvement in a bombing in Spain. Bastian never believed he was involved, but his parents are very rigid. They threw him out of their home and publicly disowned him. It destroyed him. Shayne spent several years trying to exonerate himself before he simply disappeared.”

He hadn’t disappeared; he had been recruited, instead. She’d known he was born of a Spanish father and an American mother, and that they were considered wealthy. She’d never heard he’d been disowned, however.

“He and Sebastian are friends, then?” Alyssa asked, her normally quiet gaze glinting with the barest hint of curiosity.

“They were very close as boys, I know.” Courtney shrugged as she and Alyssa sat back, their attention shifting between the three men. “Even as young men they were more like brothers before Shayne was sent away by his parents. I saw him only a few times after that.”