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  Her breath was coming somewhat rapidly, and she could feel the heat that spread from the touch of his finger upward over her face. It was harder than it should have been to break away from the look in his eyes. But that was okay,that was good. A little sexual chemistry never hurt anyone. It would make her more believable, and him more vulnerable. She hoped.

  She said breathily, "You're very imaginative with your compliments, Mr. Carey.”

  His smile curved upward slowly, and he didn't move away. "Imagination, my dear Miss Simon, is the key to happiness."

  Teale's heart was pounding hard, and she wasn't having very much luck keeping her own imagination under control. The man was a criminal. He dealt in vice. Who knew what really lay behind that door? And how could she be certain that the room he took her to was the room she really wanted to enter? Suddenly she wished her plan hadn't worked quite so well. She wished she had thought of another plan.

  And then, casually, he dropped his hand and stepped away. "But I can tell you're not interested in philosophy at the moment. You were, as I recall, curious about the layout of my house. Tell me, Teale, are you a gambler?"

  There, she thought. That's more like it. She relaxed cautiously. "I can be. There's a little bit of a gambler in all of us, don't you think?"

  "Oh, without a doubt. What kind of games do you like to play?"

  She met his eyes boldly and with just a trace of a provocative smile. "What kind are you offering?"

  "Dangerous ones," he assured her. His eyes stayed with hers, just for a moment, as though in warning— or invitation. The cool calculation she saw in his face in that instant made her chest go tight.

  And then he smiled and casually rested his hand on her back again, guiding her down the hall. He said, "I think I know just what you would like."

  He turned the doorknob, and for a wild irrational moment Teale thought about the lady and the tiger. Then he swung the door open and ushered her inside.

  Teale stood inside the doorway, dumbfounded. She had been so certain of what she would find that for a moment the images danced before her eyes like a mirage—the spinning roulette wheel, dice bouncing across green felt, stacks of crisp green bills being passed back and forth—but, of course, none of it was there. It was just a room. An ordinary room.

  There were four or five people inside, watching television, playing pool or chatting amicably. There was a chessboard set up on a table, a 52 inch flatscreen over the fireplace, a couple of other televisions on opposite sides of the room with X-Box and Wii controllers, built in wall shelves with a collection of books and DVDs. Three walls were soundproofed in silver carpet, and a fourth was covered by a poster-mural seascape. It was all so incredibly mundane that Teale, if she hadn't been so disappointed, would have laughed out loud.

  She heard the soft click of the door behind her and turned to stare at David. Her disappointment must have been obvious, for he lifted an eyebrow in surprise. "What were you expecting—whips and chains?"

  Teale took a breath. All right. So she had underestimated him. But the game wasn't lost yet.

  She laughed lightly. "Really, Mr. Carey—"

  "Why is it that I'm allowed to call you Teale and you call me Mr. Carey?" he interrupted smoothly, and came toward her.

  She forced a dimple at the side of her mouth. "All right," she conceded, "David. And I must confess, this—" she made a vague, light gesture around the room "—isn't at all what I was expecting."

  "I am so sorry." Deftly he plucked her glass out of her hand. "And your glass is empty, too. I'm turning into a terrible host, aren't I? George..." He turned in the direction of a small portable bar set up against the muraled wall. "Will you get Miss Simon some more champagne? I'll have another, too, I think."

  The man who approached was the biggest, ugliest-looking man Teale had ever seen. His broad forehead and blunt, squashed-in features reminded Teale of a caricature of Frankenstein, and though she knew it was unkind, she couldn't help staring.

  "George is my assistant," David explained pleasantly. "George, this is Teale Simon, our guest from out of town."

  George took their glasses unsmilingly, and even though Teale made some uneasy effort to acknowledge the introduction, he turned away to refill the drinks with nothing more than a black stare that would have chilled the soul of a less courageous woman.

  "Assistant?" remarked Teale. Mentally she corrected that to hit man. "What is it, exactly, you do?"

  "A little of this, a little of that."

  Teale had the impression he was deliberately goading her, and she bit down hard on her temper. After all, no one had told her this would be easy.

  He led her to a plush velour sofa and gestured her to be seated. The deep, soft cushions almost swallowed her whole, and when he sat next to her he was so close she couldn't have inserted a piece of tissue between them. He rested his arm over the back of the sofa, and his presence seemed to engulf her—no, more accurately, to overwhelm her. She had to fold her hands in her lap like a schoolgirl to keep from accidentally touching him, and the soft, molding cushions made it impossible to inch away. Her discomfort, which she tried so hard to disguise, seemed to amuse David.

  “And what about you?" he invited. Though he spoke in a normal tone of voice, there was an intimacy to the words, and she could feel his breath brush her cheek. "What do you do?"

  Teale swallowed hard. Why should his mere closeness intimidate her so? He was just another crook. She met his eyes and replied deliberately, "A little of this, a little of that."

  He smiled. "See how much we have in common?"

  Teale was growing impatient, and that was a bad sign. She knew better than to rush a job like this. But David Carey was doing unlikely things to her judgment, and all that she had ever learned about pursuing a quarry seemed irrelevant in his case. Perhaps because she was beginning to have the uneasy feeling that she was the quarry and he was the one doing the pursuing.

  In an unexpected movement, she shifted her position on the sofa, tucking one leg beneath her casually so that they were even closer than before. Her knee pressed into his thigh, and their faces were mere inches apart. As the crowning touch, she lifted her arm to the back of the sofa, too, resting it across his, her fingers just brushing his linen-clad shoulder. The flicker of surprise in David's eyes caused her enormous gratification, but she, too, was surprised by the pulse of excitement caused by the press of his thigh against her knee, the length of his muscles beneath her arm.

  She said huskily, "Perhaps we don't have as much in common as you think, David."

  His eyes flickered over her face and downward to her breasts, which were thrust into provocative prominence by her new position. That was, of course, exactly how she had expected him to react, but instead of feeling powerful in her own womanly charms, Teale felt strangely threatened, and she began to wonder if she had gone too far.

  His gaze moved back to her face. The subtle gleam of sensuality there was hard to misread. "What makes you say that, Teale?"

  She gave a negligent turn of her wrist. "Oh, really, David, you know why I'm here. Why everyone is here. Let's stop playing games, shall we?"

  His fingers clasped a few strands of her hair, twirling it gently, then letting it fall against her bare shoulder with a tickling motion. She tried not to shiver. "I thought you liked games."

  She managed a smile. "Video games? Pool? Chess? I prefer something a little more stimulating. Something with—" she held his eyes meaningfully "—higher stakes?"

  His hand slipped beneath her hair, and his forefinger lightly traced the three cervical knobs—up and down, up and down. This time she could not prevent a spreading shiver, and her breathing quickened. A slow light kindled in his eyes with her response. "The stakes may be higher than you think," he said softly.

  George chose that moment to arrive with the drinks, and David had to remove his arm to accept them. Teale, with a deep breath that was not entirely steady, took that opportunity to resume her original position, leaning
back against the corner of the sofa so that he could not entrap her without being very obvious about it. And she, most certainly, would not try that ploy again. She could still feel the tingle of fever on the back of her neck where his finger had been.

  Her smile was a little faint as she accepted her glass of champagne; immediately she took a sip of the cool tingling liquid, hoping it would help restore her equilibrium. It didn't.

  What had gotten into her, anyway? David Carey was a lowlife criminal, and she was here to bust him, not seduce him. Somewhere in this house thousands—perhaps hundreds of thousands—of dollars were illegally changing hands. It was up to her to find out how and when and where. And given all that, why was she sitting here sipping champagne and playing word games with a man who was singlehandedly responsible for half the vice in this city?

  David made no attempt to resume the closeness of his position, but leaned back against the cushions, one arm crooked casually over the back of the sofa, and sipped his drink. A good two feet separated them now, and Teale breathed easier.

  "What are you drinking?" she remarked, for lack of anything better to say.

  He tipped his glass a little. "Club soda." He smiled. "I don't drink. I don't smoke, either, or do drugs, or even overeat. As a matter of fact, for a man of my reputation, I have remarkably few vices."

  Teale was certain that if she met his eyes at that moment he would have easily seen the contempt in hers. So she disguised her expression by sipping her champagne and letting her eyes wander over the room. The low drone of the television playing a pay-per-view movie, the click of pool balls, the murmur of laughter... And then her gaze fell on the muraled wall, and suddenly she knew.

  That was his secret room. That was where the real party was going on.

  She brought her eyes back to him with a cool smile. "Oh, I think you have a few, David. The only thing I don't understand is why you're so shy about them."

  His smile was lazy, but his eyes were alert. "If you're referring to my weakness for beautiful women, I don't consider that a vice."

  This had gone on long enough. It was time to call his bluff. She said levelly, "You asked me if I was a gambler. I think you know I wouldn't be here if I weren't. And while I won't deny I've enjoyed our little... chat—" she made her lips twist upward in what she hoped was a coy smile "—what I'd really like to do is lose some money. Faro? Blackjack? People say you have the best dealers this side of Vegas.'' She shrugged. “Hell, at this point I’d even settle for video poker.”

  His quiet smile did not waver. "Gambling is illegal in this state, Teale."

  She gave a small sigh of exasperation, allowing her eyes to twinkle flirtatiously. "Really, David, you are the most impossible man. What does a person have to do to get invited to your infamous 'secret room'?"

  He laughed softly, and Teale did not like that. She was almost certain it was gentle mockery she saw in his eyes. "Never on the first date, darling," he assured her.

  Teale jerked her gaze away and had to take another sip of her champagne to compose herself. To get this close and fail. Teale Saunders never failed. She sighted her objective, she did her homework, she covered all the angles, and she did her job. It was as simple as that.

  But she was beginning to suspect she had met her match in David Carey. And that infuriated her just enough to play her last, reckless card.

  She gave an elaborate shrug and got to her feet. "Well, I must say I'm disappointed. I heard I could find some real action here, and that's the only reason I came. But if you don't think I'm good enough for your little games...."

  He stood beside her, the smile in his eyes tender and appreciative. "Oh, I think you're good enough," he assured her softly, "for almost anything. And if it's action you're looking for..." He reached for her hand and held it with a warm and gentle pressure, his thumb tracing a light circular pattern over the pulse point on her wrist. Immediately, Teale felt that pulse speed. "Might I suggest a more thorough tour of my house? I'm sure that somewhere in all this we can find a place a little more private.''

  Teale's heart was beating fast, and her throat felt dry, and the gentle circular motion his thumb made against her wrist caused a prickling sensation that went all the way to the roof of her mouth. But she lifted her chin, she smiled at him distantly, and she replied, "Never on the first date, Mr. Carey."

  The warmth of a gentle smile lit his eyes, and he lifted her hand toward his lips. "In that case—" his eyes never left hers "—I suggest we say good-night before we both get in over our heads."

  Teale felt her breath catch as he turned her hand over and pressed a warm, lingering kiss against her palm. Electricity tingled in her stomach, and for just an instant the low drone of the television and the click of pool balls faded away, and she thought somewhat distractedly that she might already be in over her head.

  "Good night—" David lifted his face, and there was no mistaking the gentle mocking laughter in his eyes this time "—Detective Saunders."

  **********************

  TWO

  A swarm of emotions swept through Teale just then— shock, outrage, incredulity. A cold clamminess seeped into her veins where fevered awareness had been a moment before. Then came fury and humiliation and, very far back, just the faintest edge of fear. What would a man like David Carey do once he had caught a cop trying to infiltrate his operation?

  She stared at him, rapidly reviewing and rejecting options. She could try to brazen her way through; she could gather the cloak of her dignity about her and coolly deny any understanding of what he was talking about. She could, as long as her cover was blown and David seemed to be too distracted by his own amusement to expect anything of the sort from her, make a swift, forceful effort to enter the room behind the muraled wall. Or, more sensibly, she could turn and walk away with all possible haste.

  In the end, however, she did none of those things. She simply withdrew her fingers, slowly and deliberately. She held his laughing gaze with no expression whatsoever in her own, and she inquired calmly, "How did you know?"

  He appeared to consider whether or not to reply. "I'll tell you what," he decided at last. "I'll answer your question if you will answer one for me."

  Teale said nothing. She didn't even blink.

  He appeared to interpret her silence as assent and went on easily. "First of all, you were good—very good, in fact. I wanted to believe you, and that's half the battle with any role, isn't it? And of course—" he smiled indulgently "—you're a very sexy lady, which gives you an added advantage, as I'm sure you know. You might have been just a little bit too persistent, but I imagine most men would be too caught up in your charms to even notice."

  A fine quiver of rage had begun within Teale from the beginning of his speech, and it was difficult to keep the angry tremor out of her voice. She was proud of the coolness of her tone as she interjected, "But you aren't most men."

  He smiled—almost apologetically, Teale thought. "That's right. And that was your only mistake. The only thing I'm left to wonder is—" his eyes went over her, mildly, with an almost detached interest "—how far would you have gone to get your man?"

  Teale turned on her heel and pulled open the door.

  She strode down the hallway to the outer room, her color high and her eyes flaming. She didn't pause before Sam's startled, curious look; she didn't look back to where she was certain David Carey was standing, watching her departure with laughing eyes. She said flatly to Sam, "Let's get out of here. We've been made." And she kept on walking.

  She felt Carey's humorous, thoughtful gaze following her all the way to the car.

  ****************

  By one o'clock in the morning, everyone had gone. The game room was closed down, the driveway was empty. The glasses and ashtrays had been washed; the money had been counted and locked away in the floor safe. David Carey's house was once again just another of a string of ordinary beach houses that dotted this part of the Atlantic.

  David sat on the deck, a glass of
club soda in his hand, gazing over the short expanse of sand-tufted lawn to the gentle rise and fall of midnight foam. He spent his most constructive hours just that way: gazing at the ever-changing face of the sea, listening to its whispers, thinking. The ocean after midnight never failed to soothe him, to challenge him, to inspire him.

  The door opened behind him and closed softly; David did not look around. George walked over to the edge of the deck and took out a cigarette. The flare and sizzle of the match was a brief interruption to the night's stillness.

  "You're going to kill yourself with those things one day," David commented absently.

  George shrugged. "In our line of work, I don't really expect to live forever." He looked thoughtfully at the tip of the cigarette for a moment and added, "I'm not even sure I want to."

  David took a sip of the soda. "What do you think?"

  George looked out over the sea. "I think it's a hell of a mess." He took a drag on the cigarette and glanced at David. "How do you guess it happened?"

  "Who knows? How do these things ever happen?" David was noticing the way the moonlight picked up odd gray-blue shadows at the edge of the horizon, and he suddenly realized where he had seen that color before. In Teale Saunders's eyes.

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I'm not sure yet." And he smiled a little, secretly. "You've got to admit, it's a challenge."

  George grunted. "These kinds of challenges we can do without."

  David chuckled. "You're growing soft in your old age, George. Challenges keep us on our toes. Always expect the unexpected."

  George took another drag on the cigarette and crushed it under his foot, exhaling a stream of smoke with a weary sigh. He didn't look at David. "Do you want me to take care of the girl?"