Dance with the Devil by Cherry Adair Read Free Book Online

grounds. And while a party had gone on two stories beneath them, she and Jack had discovered a whole new use for balcony railings.
    â€œLast time we were here it was summer.” He released her with one arm, but kept her tethered to him with the other. “Remember?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œLiar.” He glanced around casually, and Mia knew he, like herself, was marking everyone’s location in the room, possible exits, security personnel and camera locations.
    She faked a furtive glance around, then grabbed his hand and started up the stairs. Just pretending to be unbearably hot for Jack made her hot. Actually, hotter was more accurate. If someone shoved a thermometer in her mouth right now, she’d blow the end off. Trying to suppress it was useless. The best she could do was make sure Jack wasn’t aware of how she felt.
    At the top of the stairs, she dropped his hand like a hot potato and preceded him into the west bedroom wing. Her pace was almost as fast as her erratic heart. She didn’t care; she was hoping to walk off some of her need for Jack.
    How could she focus when, with every step, her aching center pulsed with new need, reminding her that release was only an arm’s reach away? No, she thought. Be strong. Be brave. Don’t give into the dark side.
    Luck was with them and they didn’t pass anyone else on the upstairs landing. They slipped into the master suite and closed the door.
    â€œSafe’s probably in her closet.” Mia strode toward one of the half-closed doors on the far side of the spacious bedroom, Jack right behind her.
    â€œBathroom. Wrong door.” Mia opened the next louvered mahogany door. “Jackpot. Oh, man,” she said reverently, “look at her shoes.”
    â€œHard to pack a pair of those under that dress.”
    â€œI can afford my own shoes,” she told him mildly, listening to her own tone to be sure she didn’t sound defensive. Forget the spoon. Jack had been born with a silver serving tray in his mouth. All that nonsense he’d been sprouting to gain her sympathy was garbage. No, Jack came from a wealthy family. And he spent money like it would dry up tomorrow if every dime wasn’t blown today.
    She’d been born with a plastic spoon in hers. Disposable. Sallye never had liked doing dishes. They hadn’t been poor, exactly, but Sallye’s paycheck had only covered the basics, no extras.
    Mia had hated watching her mother work two jobs to make ends meet. Hated seeing her mom bent over the bills every month trying to figure out which to pay first. Mia had vowed she and her mom and sister would never have to worry about money again. No more living from paycheck to paycheck.
    Mia had money now. Hell, she had fifty percent of every paycheck she’d ever earned stashed in a money market account, slowly multiplying at a pretty decent rate. She hoarded her money, saved and invested it prudently and wisely. She made every penny beg for mercy before she reluctantly spent it. And now that she could, she made sure her mom had a few of those “extras” she’d always lacked before.
    Well, up until now. Now that Sallye had sold out her oldest daughter to the man who could tear her heart in two with a flick of his wrist, there was no more Godiva for her.
    â€œI was kidding about the shoes.”
    â€œI wasn’t,” Mia said shortly. “Just look for the safe.”
    The closet smelled of Chanel and cigarette smoke. Carpeted in the same thick plush ecru-colored carpeting as the bedroom, it felt close and claustrophobic with the sartorial ghosts of past events hanging from their padded satin hangers. Furs brushed Mia’s head as she crouched down low and reached to the back to feel along the wall while Jack did the same on the other side.
    Their legs brushed several times, sending electrical charges along each of Mia’s nerve endings. She worked faster. Where the hell was the damn safe?