Authors: Kathy Love
Devilishly Sexy (6 page)
Then he realized she was looking down at something clutched in her hand. With her other hand, she fumbled with it, her movements jerky and awkward. Like she didn’t quite have control of herself. But despite her strange movements, he saw what she held. A pill bottle.
She finally got the childproof cap off the bottle and dumped over a dozen of the small pink pills into her palm. She immediately clutched her fingers around them as if they were precious jewels that might slip through her fingers.
Before he realized what she planned to do, she lifted her palm up to her lips and tilted her head back, cramming the pills into her mouth like a handful of M&M’s or peanuts. But instead of chewing, she leaned over the sink and scooped a handful of water to her mouth from the already running faucet.
Michael only watched a split second longer, realizing what she’d done. And what she intended those pills to do.
She was committing suicide.
She was still in the middle of ladling more water to her lips, when Michael grabbed her around the waist. She screamed then, and with amazing agility and more strength than he would have guessed she could have, she shoved herself free of him.
He let her go and she crossed the bathroom before spinning to see who her attacker had been. Though he didn’t think of himself as her attacker, but as her rescuer.
She gaped at him. “What are you doing in here?”
“What did you just take?” he demanded, his eyes roaming her stunned features, searching for any ill effects. She looked alert and scared. Of course, it would be too soon to see any consequences yet anyway.
“What did you take?” he repeated, his voice harder.
Instead of answering him, she stated sternly, “You can’t be in here. This is the ladies’ room.”
Chapter Six
L
iza wanted to scream. Just her luck. It would be Mr. Hunky who caught her downing a handful of allergy meds. And she knew exactly what he thought he was witnessing.
iza wanted to scream. Just her luck. It would be Mr. Hunky who caught her downing a handful of allergy meds. And she knew exactly what he thought he was witnessing.
Her OD’ing.
And he looked surprisingly unhappy about it. He glowered at her, and she also noted his harsh expression did very little to mar his handsome features. Intelligent dark eyes; full, almost sultry lips; and chiseled jawline.
Leave it to you to finally be alone with a hot man when you are about to be hopped up on allergy medicine.
“Shut up,” Liza hissed under her breath, but unfortunately the giant in front of her didn’t miss the softly muttered comment.
He frowned, his dark brows coming together in sudden confusion. “Excuse me?”
Come on, touch him. Give me a little peek before I pass out.
“Hell, no.”
The man’s glower turned to a look of real concern. He took a step toward her.
Liza raised a hand to stop him. “Stay right there.”
Damn it, let him touch you. A little sex-shhual arous-shu-al could be fun mixed with this high.
Liza ignored the demon, although she was relieved to hear his words were already growing slurred. Thank God his metabolism worked faster than hers.
“Don’t touch me,” she warned, wanting to be sure the demon was truly out. The drugs were already starting to hit her too, and she was worried how she herself might react to this man’s touch, never mind damned Boris.
Bartoris, my damned name is ...
Liza laughed, pleased that he was unconscious already.
“Liza, you need to go to the hospital.”
She laughed at that. “No doctor can help me. Apparently no one can.”
Were her words slurring now too? She giggled.
Michael stared at this woman, unsure what exactly to do. She was clearly being affected by the drugs and quickly. She weaved, then fell heavily against the wall.
She giggled again. “Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to do that here. But I just couldn’t deal anymore.” She laughed again. The sound would have been adorable, if she wasn’t overdosing. Which she was, and he needed to do something.
Without a second thought, he rushed to her and scooped her up. Despite her height, she was surprisingly light in his arms.
“Put me down,” she gasped, even as she put her arm around his neck to steady herself.
“We have to get you to a hospital.”
She shook her head, then winced as if the gesture wasn’t agreeing with her. “I’m feeling extra-woozy. Maybe I took too many.”
He raised an eyebrow at that. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure you definitely took too many, sweetheart.”
She smiled, her eyes closed, the gesture yet again adorable. “I like being called sweetheart.”
“Okay, sweetheart, let’s get you to a hospital.”
She rested her head heavily against his chest and sighed. “I like your chest too.”
He smiled at that, even as knew he had to hurry out of there. Maybe he should call an ambulance, but he wasn’t sure how to go about that without drawing a lot of attention to the situation. As it was, carrying her out would attract a lot of notice too.
Oh well, he didn’t know what else to do. She needed help. Now. He’d reached the bathroom doorway, when Liza stiffened in his arms, almost sitting up in his hold. Her hand shot out and she caught the door frame, stopping him from exiting the restroom.
“You can’t touch me,” she told him, her eyes meeting his and for a moment, she looked almost lucid.
“I know,” he reassured her softly, deciding it was best to humor her as much as possible. “But I don’t see how else to get you out of here. I will put you down soon.”
She glanced around as if she didn’t remember where she was, then gave a slight nod. But when he tried to step through the door again, she held fast to the door frame.
“I can walk,” she said, her words still slurred, but determined.
“Sweetheart, I don’t think you can.”
She smiled, just briefly, then her eyes grew hard and focused again. “I can. I can’t be seen like this. I can’t.”
Michael realized that was probably true. She was in a soul contract, and it was clear to him, even as a newly returned DIA agent, that Finola would use anything as a breach of contract. Attempted suicide included.
“Okay,” he agreed, although he really wasn’t sure she could stand. But slowly he slid her down his body and onto her feet. She wobbled, but managed to gain some balance.
“You are going to have to hold on to me.” He slipped an arm around her back.
She nodded, allowing him to help. “I guess it’s okay. He won’t see anything now.”
Michael wasn’t exactly sure whom she was referring to, but he suspected it had to be that demon he’d seen in the boardroom. Tristan McIntyre.
“No,” Michael told her, beginning to walk her through the door. “No one will see anything. I will make sure of that.”
She made a noise, although he wasn’t sure whether it was in agreement or not. But she did allow herself to be walked out of the bathroom. And he didn’t plan to let Finola or the diva demon’s flunkies see Liza this way.
“Who was the man who was here earlier?” Tristan McIntyre asked, surprising Finola White’s newest personal assistant, Georgia Sullivan, from her flurry of work.
Georgia frowned, looking around as if she expected to find the man Tristan was referring to still there.
“Who?” she finally asked.
“The man who was here just a little while ago. Tall, dark, presumably someone you might find handsome.”
Georgia’s gaze involuntarily moved over Tristan, before she caught herself. She frowned, whether trying to recall who Tristan was asking about or just a gesture of irritation with herself... and her attraction to Tristan, he wasn’t sure.
Finally she seemed to gather herself, and a dawning knowledge widened her green eyes behind her jeweled cat’s-eye glasses and heavily made-up lashes. “Oh, the man from the mailroom?”
Tristan nodded with a wry smile. “He was from the mailroom?”
“Yes, just coming around for the last mail pickup.”
Tristan considered that for a moment, then nodded.
“Thanks, Peaches,” he said, unable to stop himself from using the ridiculous nickname he’d given her on the day she’d started here.
Her reaction to his little endearment filled the air instantly. A sweet, ripe scent that seemed to mimic the fruit he’d just called her drifted all around him.
Tristan smiled to himself. Oh, she was ripe for him all right, and as a demon of lust, he savored her attraction like a particularly delicious indulgence. Quirky and chubby wasn’t usually his type, but her desire was so strong, it was hard not to admire it and play with her. Just a little.
But he only had a moment to tease and torment her, because he was in the middle of something bigger than even his own libido.
“Don’t stay too late,” Tristan called back to the assistant, breathing in her reaction one last time before he headed back to his meeting.
“So who was he?”
Tristan stepped back into the boardroom and took a seat before answering. “Just someone from the mailroom. No one of any consequence. Although I don’t recall ever seeing him before. It is good, however, to see they are finally following Finola’s demands and only hiring attractive people.”
“Well, soon they will be following
our
demands.”
our
demands.”
Tristan smiled in agreement, reaching for his computer tablet. He tapped the now black screen, then typed in his password. His notes from earlier appeared.
“Finola only needs to make a few more mistakes, and Satan will step in and banish her back to Hell himself.”
Tristan nodded. “And all we need to do is make sure she slips up. The best way to do that is to get her to cast a couple more souls to Hell by breaking their contracts unfairly.”
“That won’t be hard. We could probably just sit back and let her do that all on her own. But if we pick the targets for her, it will make things go quicker and easier.”
“I agree. So who?” Tristan sighed. “Maybe attractive mailroom staff isn’t such a good thing after all. I’m sure we could easily get her to dispose of a few souls there.”
“What about her new personal assistant? She seems like an obvious choice. Finola is unrealistic and brutally hard on them. It would take very little maneuvering to get Finola annoyed with that girl. And voilà, one contract broken. Plus, her looks are bound to get on Finola’s nerves.”
Tristan’s hand paused in his note-making. Peaches. He hated to admit it, but he would miss the luscious scent of her. And he did kind of enjoy her quirkiness, but he supposed she was the most obvious choice. And she was expendable.
He nodded, jotting down her name.
“But,” he found himself adding, “we should have several others, just in case. Finola isn’t always as predictable as we’d like.”
“True.”
As if to prove that very point, the boardroom door opened and Finola White herself sashayed into the room.
“Darling, what are you still doing here?”
Tristan automatically pulled up another application to hide the notes he’d made, then shifted in his seat to greet his superior. His superior for the time being.
“I’m just finishing up some work for the new Greta Shields layout.”
Finola raised an eyebrow, but Tristan wasn’t sure whether the gesture indicated she was impressed or in doubt.
“That is very industrious of you,” she said, stepping over to the table and leaning in to look at his tablet. Apparently the eyebrow arch had been one of doubt.
Fortunately the application he’d pulled up was indeed the layout of an up-and-coming designer’s spread for
HOT!
HOT!
Finola touched a finger to the screen, dragging the pages so she could see them all.
Finola nodded, her expression definitely impressed now. “It looks wonderful, Tristan. Truly wonderful. I’m almost wondering now why we keep that dreadful Liza McLane around. You are learning the fashion magazine ropes quite well.”
Tristan thanked her, and silently thanked Satan himself that he’d actually opened the correct application in his rush.
“If I didn’t know you so well, and know how much you love your creature comforts and personal time, I’d start to think you were becoming a workaholic.”
Tristan chuckled. “Hardly. You know I’m too self-indulgent to work too hard. And that’s why we have to keep that dreadful Liza McLane working here. I just happened to have a couple ideas and decided I should get them down before I forgot. I’m actually finished.”
He rose. Reaching for his briefcase on the chair beside him, he placed his tablet inside.
“Speaking of working late, what are you doing back here?” Tristan asked, keeping his voice casual as he zipped up his case. Was Finola more aware of the changes in Tristan than he’d believed? Sometimes Finola was surprisingly perceptive. “Aren’t you supposed to be at a gala hosted by Stella McCartney? I heard even Paul was going to be there.”
“Yes,” Finola said and Tristan noticed for the first time she was dressed in a white and crystal-encrusted evening gown. The gown was beautiful, but Finola was always wearing something extravagant and white, so truthfully they all blended together in his mind.
“I just came back here to get my sweet little puppy,” she explained. “And there my baby is!”
She sashayed over to the chair next to Tristan to pick up her maltipoo, Dippy. “You know the McCartneys—totally animal crazy. And I forgot that my precious boy was on the invitation too.”
Tristan nodded, shooting her dog a covertly regretful look.
“So I came back here, but I couldn’t find him,” she crooned with a little pout. “That awful new assistant of mine was supposed to be taking care of him tonight, but she claimed she hadn’t seen him. I should have known you would look after him for me.”
Exactly on cue, the little white dog yipped.
“Oh my lovely baby,” she cooed, cuddling the squirming ball of fluff to her cheek. She snuggled him for a moment, then glanced back at Tristan.
“I should have guessed my precious would be with you. He’s been spending a lot of time with you these days.” Finola looked almost peevish, but the expression quickly disappeared. She didn’t like emotions that might make her perfect features look less than flawless.
Tristan shrugged and waved a dismissive hand in the air. “I just think that beast is half-cat. He lives to pester the one person who doesn’t adore him.”
Dippy growled.
Finola laughed at that and nuzzled her pet again. “That is probably true.” She then headed to the door. “Well, I must go.”
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