Lethal Consequences Read Free Page A

for a travel magazine.
    She’d bought the ruse, hook, line, and sinker, and now, with her hand resting on his thigh, was sending him every fuck-me sign in the book. Three months ago he’d have already dragged her back to his room, banged her until they were both drenched in sweat and he was on the verge of passing out. But tonight something was holding him back.
    No, not something, some one . Someone petite and blonde and beautiful.
    “Your drink is empty, mon cher . Would you like another?” Chantal’s accent screamed French, but Landon wasn’t convinced. Something about her felt off. He just couldn’t pinpoint what.
    Nothing about her is off, dumbass. You’re off. And until you get Olivia Wolfe out of your head you’ll continue to be off.
    “ Mon che r ?”
    Chantal’s fingers sliding higher against his thigh brought his attention back to her, and he gave himself a mental slap. “What?”
    “Your drink. Would you like another?”
    He glanced at his empty beer glass, as if seeing it for the first time, and told himself to snap the fuck out of it. “No. I’m done.”
    “Is there something else you’d like instead?”
    The way she drew out the last word dragged his gaze back to her face. Her skin was smooth, her eyes a lush, dark brown, almost black, her lips plump and pink and kissable. She was strikingly beautiful in an exotic sort of way, but there was a hardness to her that was in direct contrast to everything that was Olivia. And even after her flirtatious touching and the last half hour of veiled I’m ready to fuck your brains out mindless conversation, he still didn’t feel a damn thing for her, not even lust.
    You will. When you get her upstairs and naked. Biology will take over.
    He sure the hell hoped so. Because if it didn’t . . . His mind drifted to Olivia once more, and he imagined her standing in front of her classroom in Boise right now, her blonde hair clipped back, her slim arms crossed over her small chest as she laid down the law for all those teenage boys who were probably fantasizing about her as much as he was. Yeah, if biology didn’t take over and he couldn’t get rid of this mini—who was he kidding? major —obsession, he was in serious shit.
    He pushed off the barstool, reached for his jacket from the chair beside him, and turned toward her. “What I want isn’t down here. How about we take this up to my room?”
    Approval lit her dark eyes. An approval that tightened his stomach. She unfolded herself from her seat, all long legs and sky-high stilettos Olivia would never be caught dead in, reached for her purse from the bar, and then slid her hand into his. “I like that idea. Very much.”
    He led her out of the bar and into the elevator. Several people moved into the car with them, forcing his body into closer contact with hers. Trapped in the corner of the elevator with her at his front, the scent of roses drifted in the air around him.
    He looked down at her fire-red locks draped over her shoulders, and noticed the edge of some kind of tattoo peeking out beneath the strap of her dress and all that hair. A curved edge, with what looked like the tip of a sword extending beyond.
    The elevator door opened with a ping before he could get a good look at the tattoo, and the people in front moved to the side so they could exit. Muttering, “ Gracias, ” he followed her off the car. When she paused at the intersection of the hall, he pointed to the right and said, “Eight thirty-seven.”
    She headed toward his room. He followed her halfway down the hall, his mind flipping back and forth between images of Olivia and the woman at his front. She stopped near his door and waited while he fished out his keycard and slid it through the slot.
    “ Merci, ” she said as he held the door open, and she swept past, sending him a sultry look, one that still didn’t do a thing for his libido.
    Fuck. Landon swiped a hand over his brow. Get over yourself already, dickhead.
    She was