Cara Summers - Risking It All - The Proposition / The Dare / The Favour / The P.I. / The Cop / The Defender

“I don’t know,” Tracker said. “Sophie says that there’s a real spark between you and the detective.”

The sudden ringing of a phone had all three men reaching for their cells. Whoever was getting the call, Chance figured he was saved by the bell. Lucas opened his and a second later said, “I’m going to have to take this in a quieter spot.” Rising, he signaled Tracker to come with him. The two friends worked together now. Lucas ran his family’s company, Wainwright Enterprises, and Tracker headed up security for him.

Chance sipped his beer and found his gaze returning to Natalie. When she glanced up and met his eyes, there was a moment, a long moment, when everything else faded. A heated discussion at a nearby table, laughter from the bar, even the low sound of a saxophone became just a buzz in his ears. The faces of the other two women at the table blurred, and all he could see was Natalie.

Twin sensations assaulted him—a hard punch to his gut and a strange flutter just beneath his heart. No, this wasn’t the reaction he had to just any woman. Why did this particular woman have this kind of effect on him? A part of him wanted to find out; another part of him wanted to run.

The realization had a spurt of panic moving through him. No woman had ever made him want to run before.

“Hey.” Tracker’s amused tone only penetrated when he felt the nudge to his shoulder. Turning, Chance discovered that Lucas had moved to help Mac from her chair. “Our party’s breaking up,” Tracker said. “Mac’s tired so they’re driving home now. Sophie and I are going to walk back to her place. Do you need Lucas to give you a lift back to your hotel?”

“No,” he said as he rose from his chair. It had been years since he’d allowed himself to run away from anything. That part of his life was over. He was flying to London in the morning, but there was one thing he was going to do before he left. Chance moved with Tracker down to the other end of the table.

“Sorry to be such a party pooper,” Mac said, stifling a huge yawn.

“I’m the one who yawned first,” Sophie said. “The last few days have been hectic.” Then she smiled at Natalie. “But you should stay. Chance is an excellent dancer, and the music is good.”

“No, I—” Natalie began as she rose from her chair.

“Sophie’s right on one point,” Chance said. “The music is very good.”

“Please. Don’t let me break up your evening,” Mac said, taking Natalie’s hand and squeezing it. “Stay and have at least one dance. If I weren’t asleep on my feet, I’d drag Lucas out. There’s nothing more romantic than dancing under the stars.”

“What’s one dance?” Sophie said softly as she kissed Natalie’s cheek.

Chance waited until the two couples had taken their leave. “We don’t have to dance if you’re afraid of that Latin beat.”

Natalie’s eyes narrowed as she met his. “I can dance to that if you can.”

It was just the reaction Chance had hoped for. The one thing he’d learned from working with the beautiful detective was that she was never afraid to take a risk. That was his key, he realized as he took her hand and led her toward the patio. If he framed his proposition in the right way, they’d be taking a different kind of risk together before the night was over.

NATALIE KNEW she was making a mistake the moment that Chance took her hand. It wasn’t that he hadn’t touched her before. He was a very physical man. In the brief time they’d worked together, he’d taken her arm, or placed a hand at her back. But he’d never before held her hand. His was hard, his fingers callused, and just the pressure of his palm against hers had little ribbons of heat uncurling up her arm.

The intensity of the sensations had her wondering what it would feel like when he really touched her. And she’d been thinking of that since they’d first met in that art gallery. He’d been a possible suspect in an art theft ring, and it had been her job to keep an eye on him.

Natalie sent him a sideways glance as he made a path for them through the crowd. Keeping an eye on Chance Mitchell was nice work if you could get it.

He was a man any woman would look twice at. He had a long, rangy body that wore jeans and Armani suits with the same careless ease. Hair that looked brown one minute and blond the next. Eyes that were trapped somewhere between a smoky gray and blue. And a face that wasn’t quite handsome until he smiled in a certain way.

But for the three days they’d worked side by side, it was his hands that she’d become obsessed with—hands that held a priceless sculpture or a gun with equal skill. More than once, she’d struggled with fantasies of how those long, clever fingers might pleasure a woman.

And she knew enough about men to know that he was fantasizing just as much as she. The fact that she and Chance had been assigned to protect Sophie Wainwright from a ruthless killer had helped both of them keep their focus. But now…Sophie was safe. The case was over. There was nothing to divert her attention from this man. And she wanted him with an intensity that she’d never felt for anyone else.

Why?

Natalie found part of her answer the moment Chance drew her into his arms. Heat streamed through her and every nerve in her body began to throb. No one had ever made her feel this way, and she knew that this was only a promise of what he could make her feel if she would just let him.

Why was she so hesitant to do that?

“We fit perfectly,” he murmured.

Hadn’t she known they would? She was tall, but he was taller. His chin brushed her hair, and as he guided her across the small dance floor, his thigh pressed briefly against hers. The shock to her system had her stumbling even more closely against him.

“Relax.” His voice was just a breath in her ear as he ran those clever fingers up and then down her spine.

“Just listen to the music and let yourself go.”

Let yourself go. Natalie bit back a sigh as she struggled against doing just that. She’d always prided herself on her control where men were concerned. Two years of working on a D.C. police special task force had given her plenty of experience handling males, both on the job and in the bedroom as well. In the two serious relationships she’d had, her lovers had both been intimidated by the fact that she was a cop, and she’d learned from experience not to invest too much of herself in a relationship.

Instinct told her that Chance was different. He’d have the ability to break her control, and the idea of that tempted her almost as much as it made her wary.

When Chance drew back a little, Natalie barely kept herself from protesting.

“Much better,” he said. “Relaxation is the key.”

Of course, it was easy to relax when her bones were melting. But Natalie kept that to herself. Instead, she made herself focus. “You really do know how to dance. Where did you learn?”

“Here and there. I’ve found it a very useful tool.”

She raised her brows. “Tool?”

Chance smiled at her. “Absolutely. Dancing is the easiest method I know for getting a woman into my arms, and second only to my cooking for getting a woman into my bed.”

Bed. She should have had a quick comeback for that. Or at least she could have snorted. But the image, as well as the way he’d leaned close to her ear to say it, had a fresh wave of desire streaming through her.

The rhythm of the dance changed abruptly, and Chance slid his hands to her hips, pulling her close for one brief contact. Heat flashed through her as she felt the long hard length of him. The lower part of her body burned and melted. “Oh, yes,” one part of her mind said—even as another part said, “Get away while you can!”