Still, I owed either Tyler Sharp or my hormones a thank-you. Because my reaction to this man reminded me that I needed to be careful. Tyler Sharp was a dangerous breed, and though he might not know it yet, he and I were locked in a heated battle. One that I fully intended to win—even if that meant playing dirty.

Beside me, Kat shifted. The movement caught my attention, and I turned to see her watching Tyler.

He gave her the slightest of nods, and she cleared her throat. “Um, yeah, well, I’m just going to run and find Lina and give her and Evan another hug. Attend to my pseudo-hostess duties. Maybe cure cancer and solve that whole world peace problem. Hopefully you two will muddle along without me.”

“I think we’ll manage,” Tyler said. “I promise to take good care of Sloane.”

“Yeah,” Kat said. “I just bet you will.” She winked at me, then bopped away. I watched her get swallowed up by the crowd, grateful to have a moment to gather myself. When I turned back to Tyler, I saw that he hadn’t taken the same opportunity. He was still focused entirely on me.

“Alone at last,” he said.

I shifted my weight, not liking the way this man unnerved me. I was a detective, for Christ’s sake. I ate suspects for breakfast, and my bad cop skills in interviews were worthy of an Academy Award. I’d never worked undercover, though, and I suddenly had all sorts of respect for my peers who put on the mask and held tight to their secrets.

Then again, I was no stranger to masks or secrets. I could do this. And as if to prove it to myself, I looked up at him through my lashes, hoping the effect was as sexy as I imagined. “Should I be nervous? A man like you looking for me.”

“A man like me?” His voice was low. Enticing. “Interesting. So tell me—what am I like?”

I stepped closer to him, lifted my hand as if I was going to touch him, then pulled it back with a slightly embarrassed expression. “Tempting,” I said, and though the word was calculated, it was also very true.

“Am I?” He looked pointedly at my hands. “And that makes you nervous?”

“That? No.” I drew in a breath as I considered my next move and, as in chess, where that move would take me. “I’m pretty good at resisting temptation.”

“Are you?” He leaned in, his mouth so close to my ear I felt the whisper of his breath on my hair. “I’m not. As far as I’m concerned, giving in to temptation is one of the few true pleasures in life.”

Oh, my. A hot coil of desire twisted through me, making my skin flush and my knees go weak.

If he noticed my reaction, he said nothing. But he began to walk slowly around me, as a man in a museum might circle a statue.

I started to turn as well, tracking his movement. “No,” he said, the command in his voice undeniable. “Stay still. Look forward.”

I stopped, hesitated, then turned my head to look out at the party, at the people floating by in pretty dresses and elegant suits. With smiles and laughter and nothing on their minds except the quality of the wine and the rhythm of the band.

I told myself that my acquiescence was simply part of the game—he was a man who wanted control, I was the woman falling under his spell.

But it was more than that, and I damn well knew it. That flutter I felt in my belly wasn’t the excitement of the chase, but the anticipation of his touch.

Yeah, Tyler Sharp was dangerous, all right.

He was behind me now, and though I could no longer see him, I felt his presence as firm and gentle as a kiss. My breath caught in my chest, and I realized that I was anticipating the brush of his fingertips upon the nape of my neck, then his hand on my bare back, exposed in the halter-style dress.

But the touch never came—and my breath never came easy.

When he spoke, his voice was low, as if too much volume would break the spell. “You’re a riddle, Ms.…”

“O’Dell,” I whispered.

He was right there, but I couldn’t see him. I could only breathe in the scent of him, fresh and woody, like a forest after a rain. Sexy, enticing, and undeniably male. “Sloane O’Dell,” he said. “I like it.”

“I like the way you say it.” I kept my voice low and full of invitation.

“Do you?” he asked, as he finished the circle. “I’m very glad to hear it.”

I looked at him, at that perfect face, and felt my fingers twitch with the desire to touch him, a desire that was magnified because I could see only too well that it was returned. Tyler Sharp wanted me, too. Maybe he was teasing me, playing me. Maybe he had an agenda. I didn’t know. But my world centered around seeing—seeing people, seeing evidence, seeing the truth. And I saw the truth in the way Tyler’s eyes were dilated. In the slightest flush of color on his skin. In the way that his pulse beat just a tad too quickly in his neck.

Yes, he wanted me—and yet there was no denying that he was playing with me, too. We were locked in a game, and though I’d initiated it, I couldn’t claim to fully understand the rules.

I felt unanchored and slightly out of control. But at the same time, I felt more desperately alive than I had in a very long time.

With some effort, I managed to gather myself. “You never did say why you were looking for me.”

“No. I didn’t.”

I couldn’t help but grin. Forget chess; this was way more fun. “Am I supposed to guess?”

Instead of answering, he just smiled. Slow and easy and full of decadent promise. “Sloane,” he said. Just a syllable. Just a name. But it was my name, and it seemed to drip with honey. I wanted to taste it. Taste him.

A shiver raced up my spine. My inner thighs felt warm, and my breasts strained against the bodice of my dress. It had been years since I’d had such a pronounced reaction to a man. He might be as dangerous as they come, but that was part of what made my job exciting—the more dangerous the quarry, the bigger the thrill.

Tyler took a step forward, and I took a corresponding step back, then one more just because I wanted to clear my head. I realized too late that he’d edged me back against the pillar. I might have been trying to escape, but there was no place to go, especially not when Tyler leaned forward, pressing his palm to the pillar just over my shoulder. He was right there, right in front of me, so close I could feel the air thickening from the pressure.

“Tyler.” My voice was low, barely a whisper. “I don’t think—”

“No,” he said. “Don’t think. Just wait. Just close your eyes.”

I fought the urge to protest—this is what I wanted, after all. To get close to this man. To heat it up and see how far we could take it. No matter how out of control I might feel, I had to remember that this was my game, and though he might score a few points, I was the one who’d made up the rules.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, as I let my eyes flutter closed.

I concentrated on breathing, trying to ignore the way the tiny hairs on my arms stood up, a reaction to the electricity now swirling in the few inches that remained between us. He cupped my jaw with his free hand, then brushed his thumb lightly over my cheek. He was going to kiss me.

My mind was spinning so damn fast, reeling between excitement and wonder. He was a tool, a suspect, a criminal. Even so, I wanted this, and not because seduction was my endgame.

I simply wanted the man. Damn me to hell, I wanted him bad.

I felt the brush of his lips against my ear as he spoke. His voice was as soft and sensual as the kiss that I expected, but the words held the sting of a slap: “You shouldn’t be here.”

Ice burned in my veins, and I stood as tight and still as a statue.

He’d made me. Goddammit, how the hell had he made me?

But no. The “how” wasn’t important. Now it was all about denial and damage control.

I allowed myself only a second to rein in my fear. I let confusion color my expression—not hard under the circumstances—then I opened my eyes. He’d stepped back, and I met his gaze boldly. I expected to see anger and accusation on his face. Instead, I saw warmth. “I—” I closed my mouth and regrouped. “What are you talking about?”