Читать книгу: «A Dangerously Sexy Affair»

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QUINN DELLINGER SHUFFLED closer to a potted plant and tried to pull down the hem of her dress without making it look as if she was adjusting her panties. Except pulling the dress down meant giving up any hope of a modest neckline. One wrong move could land her in wardrobe-malfunction territory, and her plans for the evening didn’t include having a “nip slip” in public.

“You know, dendrophilia is kind of frowned upon.” Her friend, Alana Peterson, laughed and linked her arm through Quinn’s, pulling her away from the plant. “Or are you trying to take your wallflower status to the next level?”

“I’m trying not to show everyone what I had for lunch.” Quinn pursed her lips. “This dress is obscene.”

Away from the security of the curling leaves and fronds of the potted plant, Quinn was exposed to the room. Banners displaying the annual Bright Star Technology Innovation conference logo hung from the ceiling. Posters advertising the sponsors dotted the walls, and large LCD screens flashed photos from the preceding three days’ worth of conference activities. But everyone in the room seemed to be more interested in talking and drinking.

“Don’t be such a prude.” Alana flipped her blond hair over one shoulder. “Besides, you were the one who said you wanted to get over your issues with sex. Part of that is to become comfortable with your body.”

“And becoming comfortable with my body involves showing as much of it as possible?”

“Not necessarily. But you said you want to get back in the game, and that means you need a partner.” Alana winked. “That dress looks hot. No guy in their right mind would refuse you.”

“I feel like a human sausage.”

“It’s body con,” Alana said as if it was common knowledge. “It’s meant to be tight.”

“I’d prefer a little less con.” She rolled her eyes.

“You have an amazing body.” Alana looked at her, the admiration on her face genuine and warm. “It’s such a shame that you hide it all the time.”

Quinn sighed. Trying to explain her complicated relationship with her body to someone who could be a Victoria’s Secret model would be pointless. There wasn’t anything wrong with the way she looked, not at all. But her gangly limbs, ghost-white skin and piercings weren’t exactly magazine-worthy.

She hid behind pink hair dye and quirky clothes. And her “resting bitch face” may have repelled men on more than one occasion. Male attention wasn’t something Quinn was ever at ease with...not when that attention could lead to humiliation.

“Besides, who says sex and networking can’t go hand in hand? You might find an orgasm and a new job. There are some big players here—game-design studios, a few software-development companies. I’m pretty sure I saw a guy from Microsoft,” Alana continued. “You’re wasting your talents at that security company, and your boss has no idea what you’re capable of.”

She frowned. “You’re right. I should have been given that promotion.”

“Instead they went with someone external, who doesn’t have any of your business knowledge.” Alana’s eyes flashed as she shook her head. “What a load of bullshit.”

“Tell me about it.” Quinn sighed.

Her annoyance toward Alana’s pushiness—and by extension, the dress—melted away. While Alana’s methods might be questionable, she’d always done her utmost to bring Quinn out of her shell.

And she was the only one Quinn could talk to about her issues with sex and her decision to conquer them. She wasn’t ready to date—that required a level of trust far beyond her capacity—but she could reclaim her sexuality.

All she had to do was find the right guy.

“You should quit,” Alana said, laying a hand on her arm and pulling her out of her thoughts. “They don’t know how talented you are.”

Quinn chewed on the inside of her cheek. Quitting sounded so simple when Alana said it in that airy way of hers, but that would mean going through the interview process again...and if there was one thing she sucked at, it was interviews. And even if she got a new job, she’d have to start working with a different team and go through that epic awkwardness of being the “new girl” all over again.

It wasn’t only that. She liked working at Cobalt & Dane. She admired her manager and appreciated all that they achieved as a company. She didn’t intend to quit—she simply had to prove they’d made a mistake by not promoting her. Being part of the technology security division at Cobalt & Dane Security was her dream, and after three years working as an IT support officer, she knew that she wanted more out of her career. That she was capable of more.

“I’m getting that job,” Quinn said through gritted teeth. “The new guy is a temporary hurdle.”

Alana raised a brow. “A temporary hurdle?”

“Yep. I’m going to make it my mission to prove to my boss that I’m exactly the person he needs.”

“You’ve already proven it, but they haven’t been paying attention.” Alana frowned, her blue eyes narrowing.

“Ease up, Mama Bear. I’m happy to show them what I’m made of.”

The two girls stood to the side of the room and watched the crowd. It was an eclectic mix of people: men in suits and others in jeans, old and young, a wonderful melting pot of nationalities and cultures.

But almost all men.

As a self-professed tech-head and an avid gamer, Quinn was used to being a minority. She and Alana had bonded immediately in high school because they were often the only two girls in their IT class. They’d both gone on to study technology at college and had entered the industry still feeling as if they didn’t quite belong.

Alana had taken it on the chin and ended up using her model looks to get ahead. She figured if men were going to objectify her then she’d use it to her advantage. Quinn, on the other hand, was the typical introvert. She worked better with small groups, had a few close friends she held dear and kept everyone else at arm’s length.

“If you keep pulling on that dress, you’re going to ruin the hem,” Alana admonished. “I’ll make you pay for it.”

“And I’ll challenge you to ‘Mortal Kombat,’ winner takes all,” Quinn pointed out.

“I wouldn’t be stupid enough to fall for that twice.” Alana’s glossy lips lifted into a rueful smile. “Talk about an embarrassing defeat.”

“Less than twenty seconds, if my memory serves me correctly.”

“I still maintain you cheated.”

Quinn laughed. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The room buzzed around them, music mixing with conversation and the sound of laughter. Waiters wove through the crowds carrying silver trays filled with champagne, wine and beer. Quinn hadn’t been to a cocktail party before, and she was surprised that they weren’t actually serving cocktails. Not that she really gravitated to drinks with little umbrellas in them, but still...

“Do you actually know anyone here?” Quinn asked, accepting a glass of red wine from a passing waiter. She sipped and tried not to cringe at the taste; this was so not her style.

“Only the guy who got us added to the list. I recognize a few people. That guy—” Alana pointed to an older man in a gray suit “—he’s the CEO of Strikevision. I’m pretty sure I saw one of the guys from Popstar Games here, as well.”

Quinn nodded. She wasn’t impressed by celebrities or reality TV stars, but put the man responsible for “Saints Row” in front of her and she’d fangirl like a sixteen-year-old at a Justin Bieber concert.

“So why are you here? I don’t buy that it’s just to be my winglady.”

“I’m working on a story,” Alana admitted.

“You lured me here under false pretenses?” Quinn tugged at the hem of her dress again. “And you make me wear this hideously uncomfortable thing. Not cool at all.”

“It’s for a good cause. I got a sneak peek at Third Planet Studios’ plans for the next Galactic Warrior game. It’s the same old bullshit again—strong men saving weak little damsels in distress. I’ve been trying to get an interview with one of the designers to ask why they never have any female protagonists in their games.”

“Let me guess, he doesn’t want to have a bar of your feminist outrage.” Quinn shook her head. “And you want to hang them out to dry.”

“It’s my job.”

Alana ran one of the most prominent gaming news sites on the internet. She’d made a small fortune creating a space for female gamers to convene without judgment or objectification. Despite being called every horrible name under the sun—not to mention constantly battling vitriolic misogyny on every social media platform—Alana was determined to change the gaming industry. Quinn often contributed game reviews and blog posts in her spare time, happy to do anything to support her friend’s business since the issue was close to her heart, too.

“When I have a daughter, I want her to be able to play video games that empower her.” Alana stared out into the crowd, her face set into a mask of determination. “I don’t want her to be treated like a second-class citizen when she goes to a gaming convention.”

“Amen, sister.”

Alana paused, sipping on her champagne. “Is it so bad that I wanted you here for moral support?”

“You could have told me. Besides, I’m not going to be much help. You know you’re the outgoing, pretty one, and I’m the quiet, smart one.” She tried to keep a straight face but it was near impossible. If they weren’t at a professional event, Alana would have socked her in the arm.

“Aside from the fact that we’re both smart, it makes me sad that you undervalue yourself.”

“Please don’t get all Dr. Phil on me,” she groaned. “I wore the goddamn dress. You don’t get any other freebies tonight.”

“I repeat—that dress makes you look hot. I hope you get some.” Alana winked. “Sex is natural and healthy. You deserve to feel good about it again.”

“It’s not that easy.” She swirled her wineglass slowly and watched as the red wine clung to the edges. “What if I can’t find a guy who’s attracted to me?”

“Then the world is full of fucking morons and we may as well give up hope.”

“I love it when you swear. It’s like a Care Bear giving someone the finger.”

Alana’s laughter stopped short as her eyes locked onto someone across the room. Target acquired.

“Aha! A Third Planet designer. I’m going to charm him into talking to me.” She squeezed Quinn’s shoulder. “Then I’m going to take him down.”

Alana walked away, and Quinn stifled a laugh as several men almost gave themselves whiplash trying to keep their eyes on her. She could hardly blame them; Alana was perfect.

All. The. Damn. Time.

At one point it had intimidated Quinn; now it only baffled her. Maybe her friend wasn’t human...

Quinn backed up until something brushed against her leg, making her jump. The tree.

“It’s you and me, old friend,” she said, positive she looked like a nutcase for talking to a plant. “Want to get drunk?”

* * *

AIDEN ODELL EXCUSED himself from a conversation that was quickly heading south. Tinder hookups weren’t something he cared about. Frankly, he didn’t need an app to help him in that area of his life.

Besides, tonight was all about work. Tomorrow would be his first official day at Cobalt & Dane Security and he’d already been assigned a case. The head of Third Planet Studios—an up-and-coming game design company—was about to launch a new project, which up until recently had been kept quiet. But someone was leaking details.

He’d called in a favor to get access to the cocktail party in the hopes of picking up information. And he’d also booked a room at the hotel in case he needed to work into the night.

This was Aiden’s chance to show people what he was made of. Not only that, his best friend—the Dane in Cobalt & Dane—had been asking him to join his team for a year. It would be a turning point for Aiden, a fresh start. He’d be able to work at a place where his expertise was valued. No more handouts because of who his father was; no more free passes or special treatment.

And he was determined to hit the ground running. Success would be his, no matter what. Even if it meant giving up part of his weekend to do optional recon.

However, he’d picked up nothing but flimsy rumors all night. Definitely nothing that hinted at who was involved. Now, several hours later, he was tired of banal conversation and dead ends. The king-size bed in his hotel room called to him. It was late and he should get a good night’s sleep.

Aiden shrugged off the temptation. The only lead he had was a leggy blonde by the name of Alana Peterson, who apparently had some kind of grudge against the company. But his attempt to engage her in conversation had resulted in his being turned down flatter than a pancake.

A flash of color caught his attention. A woman stood next to a potted plant, her lithe figure encased in a little black dress that was hot enough to melt brain cells. But it was her hair that captivated him. It tumbled down to her waist, dark brown at the top and hot-pink through the lengths. She had a nose piercing and five earrings in one ear. He couldn’t help but linger; she was sex on a stick.

Plus, he’d seen her talking to Alana Peterson earlier. Were they friends? Or simply two women gravitating toward one another in a sea of men?

The woman turned to the potted plant, her lips moving. Was she talking to a tree?

A laugh bubbled up in his throat. She was definitely more appealing than a bunch of geeky men whining about online dating...even if she did appear to be talking to an inanimate object.

“What does your friend think of the party?” he asked, coming up beside her.

She jumped. “Excuse me?”

“Your friend.” He inclined his head toward the tree. “You were talking to him, weren’t you?”

“Her,” the woman corrected, her face totally neutral. “This is Leafina.”

“Nice to meet you, Leafina.” He grabbed a frond, shaking it up and down. “And you are?”

“Not a tree.” The corner of her lip twitched as she accepted his proffered hand.

Damn, she was gorgeous. Quirky, a little awkward, but sexy as all get-out.

“I’m Aiden, also not a tree. I’m not much of a partygoer, either.” Something warned him being overconfident wouldn’t work with her—hopefully, he’d read her right.

Her face softened. “Me, neither. Are you here by yourself?”

“Yeah, but this is a work thing.” He flagged down a passing waiter and grabbed a glass of red wine. “I’d rather be home, to tell you the truth.”

She made an adorable snorting noise, bobbing her head in agreement. “I got dragged here by a friend.”

“So you’re not a tech-head?”

“Oh, I am, but I do that on my own time.”

He sipped his drink. “Who’s your friend? I might know them.”

“Alana Peterson. She’s a tech reporter.”

Bingo. Not only were they friends, but they’d come here together. If Alana was involved in the leak, this woman might have heard about it.

“I’m familiar with the name, but I don’t think I’ve met her.”

“You would remember if you had.” A genuine smile tugged at her lips. “She’s quite a force.”

“Is she working on a story?”

“Yeah. She’s always fighting for better representation of women in the gaming industry,” the woman said, her voice tinted with pride. “She wants one of the game companies to commit to having a female lead in their games. Or at the very least she wants to find out why they haven’t had one to date.”

Ah, so that must be the grudge he’d heard about. “That game company wouldn’t happen to be Third Planet Studios, would it?”

She blinked. “How did you know that?”

“People talk. Her opinions have caused a stir, and not too many guys here seem to care about feminism.”

“Color me shocked.” Quinn rolled her eyes. “That only proves why we need people like Alana asking questions.”

“You’re absolutely right.” He breathed a sigh of relief.

He could recognize a lie when he heard one—he knew how to detect the sound of it, how to look for the telltale facial movements and tics. And how to do all of that without giving a thing away himself.

Thankfully, there was nothing but honesty in this enigmatic woman’s responses.

Which meant he could keep talking to her without the weight of suspicion hanging over them.

“Who do you work for?” she asked.

“Ricochet Studios,” he said, keeping to his script.

The plan was to tell people he was a game designer, some low-level minion at a big company where no one would be likely to call him out on the lie. He had enough knowledge to have a basic discussion about game design, and he was adept at manipulating conversation should anyone get close to sniffing him out.

His experience working for the FBI had equipped him to skate the truth with ease, not that he took any pleasure in it. But his job came first.

“The company who made ‘Slayer’s Faith’?” Her pink lips parted. “You worked on that game?”

The reverence in her voice was a huge boost to his ego, which was stupid since it meant nothing. “You play?”

“I clocked over a hundred hours on it. You don’t make it easy to get the platinum trophy.” She folded her arms, the action plumping up her breasts so that they pressed together in the deep V of the dress’s neckline. “It wasn’t quite as bad as finding all the pigeons in ‘GTA Four,’ mind you.”

A hot girl who knew her games? Heaven must have been smiling down on him. “Ah, you’re a completionist.”

“All the best gamers are.”

He took a slow sip of his wine. “What’s your favorite game?”

“That’s like asking me to pick a favorite limb.” Her dark brows creased.

“Chicken.” He laughed when she narrowed her gaze at him.

The diamond in her nose winked in the light and she tapped a finger to her cheek. The chipped black polish on her fingernails seemed at odds with the hotter-than-sin dress and sexy heels. But he enjoyed the combo; a little bit of contradiction made things more exciting...like there were secrets to be uncovered. A real person under the gloss.

“‘Slayer’s Faith,’” she said, nodding as if convincing herself. “Followed closely by ‘Mario Kart.’”

“What about Leafina? What does she play?” He looked at the potted plant again and a laugh burst from the pink-haired woman’s lips.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she said, her hazel eyes glinting.

“Sure.”

She leaned in close to his ear and cupped a hand around her mouth. “Leafina is kind of boring.”

Her hot breath on his neck flipped an “on” switch deep inside him and filled his whole body with energy. Damn.

He turned toward her, his nose inches from her cheek. “What did you say your name was?”

He realized then that she had hardly any makeup on. Her lashes were dark but not artificial, leaving the unusual green and gold flecks in her eyes to stand out on their own. Her pupils were wide, black.

A delicate blush spread out across her cheeks. “You can call me Pink.”

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” He took a step closer until the space between them shrank to mere inches. “You’re playing hard to get.”

“I’m worth it.”

He didn’t doubt her for a second.