William Briggs downed his second scotch and signaled the bartender to keep ‘em coming. How could things have gotten so out of hand so quickly? He had underestimated the Ramirez brothers. They possessed qualities he didn’t have—fearlessness and a tenacious ability to fight until they got what they wanted. They had no scruples; there were no boundaries they wouldn’t breach or lines they wouldn’t cross.

Sometimes he wished he could be more like them. They didn’t care what people thought about them, while he cared too damn much.

He should have known those Colombian thugs would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. He had presumed that, because they were going legit, they would pursue their new, legitimate business interests by legitimate means. How could he have been so naïve?

Even though he was scared, he was still clinging to his moral high ground. Fuck being politically correct—that was for the masses. Now his wife and children were in the Colombian cartel’s crosshairs and he didn’t know how to keep them safe. And that made him a poor excuse for a man. Ineffective. Weak. Powerless. He felt like such a failure--

“A martini, please, with a splash of olive juice.”

William turned toward the husky, feminine voice and was taken aback by what he saw.

She was magnificent. Long, glossy, black hair was swept smoothly over one shoulder. Blood red lipstick and flawless skin contrasted with her bright baby blues. Damn, but she was a beautiful woman.

Maybe it was the steady flow of alcohol he’d consumed since he’d left work early that afternoon, but he couldn’t look away. He cleared his throat and straightened his back. With a tug to his suit jacket, he tried to conceal his slight paunch as much as he could and wished he’d signed up for that gym membership he’d been thinking about lately.

Shooting him a coquettish glance, she slowly removed her black coat with what he assumed was a faux fur collar. Looking up at him through incredibly thick lashes, she let the material slide down her shoulders before draping it over the barstool behind her. Even though it was barely cool outdoors, the elegant garment was the perfect choice with her classic red dress and all that hair.

Her classic Hollywood glamour had already caught the attention of every man in the bar -- and a few of the women. She was a sultry combination of sex and style – truly, a timeless beauty. And completely fuckable. She smiled up at him knowingly and he gulped as he realized he’d spoken the crass words aloud.

“I’ve got that.” He motioned toward the drink the bartender placed in front of her on the bar.

Her hand slipped over, gently grasping his. “Thank you. Such a gentleman.”

His nostrils flared as he sucked in a breath at the contact and the compliment. She turned her body toward him from her perch on the barstool, crossing her legs prettily as she gazed up at him. His eyes tracked the movement, helplessly following the line of her legs, from her slender ankles up to the sleek, toned flesh visible from the slit that sat high along her thigh.

“As cliché as it sounds, wuz’ a woman like you--”  

“--doing in a place like this?” she chuckled, a breathy, erotic sound that had William discreetly adjusting his pants. Wow. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d had such a visceral reaction to a woman. Everything about this woman oozed sex, from the way her tongue slid across her bottom lip to how she slowly trailed a perfectly manicured fingertip around and around the rim of her glass.

“Well, honestly, yeah,” he shrugged, trying to look blasé and failing miserably.

“I was supposed to be meeting a girlfriend, but I don’t think she’s gonna show.”

“She stood you up? I can’t imagine anyone doing that to you, not even a girlfriend.”

“You’re sweet. Maybe it’s for the best. I mean, I would have never met you otherwise.”

Everything decent and pious in him screamed, ‘What the hell are you doing, William?!’ But surely one or two drinks wouldn’t hurt. So, he ordered another round and settled in. Their conversation was easy and flirtatious, if a bit superficial. She hung on his every word. Her rapt attention was more intoxicating to him than the three – or was it four? – drinks he’d had. It had been years since he’d been on the receiving end of a woman’s feminine attention.

The sexy stranger was focusing on him like he was the only man in the joint – and not because of his job, or his money, or to make sure he picked up milk and toilet paper on his way home – but simply because he was a man. And he hadn’t felt like a real man in...hell, it had been years. And he sure as hell hadn’t been feeling like one tonight; not until she walked in.

“Well, would you look at that, our glasses are empty,” she smiled coyly. “How’d that happen?”

He looked toward the end of the bar, trying to get the bartender’s attention. “Wait righ’ here...”

“No, let me.” She winked. “I’ll get quicker service than you will.”

“I just bet you will,” he murmured, his eyes on her lush cleavage as she subtly arched her back while she straightened from the barstool. She kept his attention by putting a little extra swish in the sway of her hips as she ventured down to the other end of the bar.

And that’s why he never saw her hand slip into her clutch purse to retrieve a small glass vial.

In a matter of moments, she was back with their drinks. She resumed her perch on her barstool, crossed her legs again, and seemed to be leaning a little closer to him than before.

Every move she made was precise and calculated, choreographed for maximum effect. She had a job to do. She was, after all, an internationally acclaimed actress. Well, not in the States, not yet. But she would be soon enough.

Her fingertips grazed his hand as she passed him the drink.

“To new friends,” she said and tapped her glass against his. He mumbled something unintelligible in return and downed the drink in a single gulp. That’s when she made her move.

“You’re a fascinating man,” she said, resting her chin in her hand. “I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed a conversation more. Honestly, I hate for this to end. Don’t you? Why don’t we go somewhere a little more private? I booked a room for my girls’ night out that never happened—just in case we had too many drinks, you know. We were planning such a naughty evening,” she purred as she gazed up at him hungrily.

She bit her plump lip and gave him a sultry laugh, and William Briggs’ morality slithered right out the door. Like a sheep being led to slaughter, he didn’t resist when she took his hand and wordlessly led him out of the bar to the elevator just off the hotel lobby.

He had never strayed from his marriage before. He had always prided himself on his perfect track record of fidelity and piety. But he was tired of being such a paragon of virtue. Tired of playing it safe. Unbeknownst to him, his fall from grace would be well documented, giving the Ramirez brothers all the ammunition they needed to ‘persuade’ him to sell.

She worked quickly to get him to the room before the drugs she had slipped into that last drink hit his system. He didn’t resist when she playfully urged him across the lobby to the elevator. He tried to kiss her a couple of times on the way up to the room, but somehow always seemed to miss. He went so far as to solicitously take her elbow when she leaned against him as if losing her balance while she pulled the room key card from her clutch. His arm slid around her waist and stayed there as she squinted and pretended to struggle to swipe the card at the door to the room.

As soon as he stumbled across the threshold, she straightened, kicked the door shut behind them, and briskly helped him over to the bed. If he thought it strange that his mystery woman appeared to have sobered up so abruptly, he didn’t mention it. Because he was beyond caring, having passed out on the bed.

The rest was easy: get pictures of him in compromising positions so the Ramirez brothers would have the blackmail ammunition they needed. Between the implied threat to the safety of Briggs’ family and the existence of suggestive pictures of him with a barely dressed woman in a hotel room, he would be at the mercy of the cartel and would have to do whatever they wanted. Problem solved, as far as she was concerned.

She swiftly undressed down to her lingerie and climbed onto the bed. She straddled him, being careful to avoid any contact with him and being ever mindful of her position relative to the camera that she knew was clicking away in the building across the street. Being a professional actress and model, she knew all about lighting and camera angles and how to position her body to achieve the illusion of intimacy where there was none. She was a pro at pausing the action at just the right time so it looked like she was about to do something…but never did.

She closed her eyes and puckered up as she leaned down toward his face, but not too close. Then she rose up higher on her knees and arched her back with her hands reaching behind her back, as if she were about to unfasten her bra. But she didn’t. Instead, she held the pose to the count of ten to give Roxanne enough time to get a few shots. Then she moved into a few other equally suggestive yet harmless poses. She and Roxanne had run through the pose sequence earlier in the day, so it was just a matter of moving through the choreography. Luckily, Briggs had landed on his back with his face turned toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, so she didn’t have to lay a finger on him to accomplish what was needed.

Along those lines, she’d deliberately worn lingerie that covered her more than a bathing suit would — because of…him. She had opted for high-waist, floral, understated yet sexy panties, paired with a matching push-up bra, sheer thigh-highs, and five-inch Jimmy Choos. As lingerie went, it was pretty conservative stuff. She looked like a cover model for a vintage, tasteful men’s magazine.

But she was pushing the envelope for the sake of the cartel and she would certainly answer for it. In the meantime, she was careful with every move she made, determined to get the job done without compromising her integrity…or her virtue, such as it was. She had no intention of disrobing any further or letting this guy touch her in any way, which wouldn’t be a problem since he had passed out on the bed.

She was careful to keep her face tilted away from the window. Maybe if her face couldn’t be seen clearly in the photographs, he wouldn’t find out she’d brought another man to a hotel room. She should know better than to tease a Ramirez, especially the one who was obsessed with her. So, she would do only what was absolutely necessary to get the job done. Then she would put her clothes back on and get the hell out of there.

But it wouldn’t matter. Her good intentions aside, the fact was that she was alone with a man in a hotel room and her clothes were in a pile on the floor by the bed. She was going to be in a world of trouble when he found out she’d gone this far, even if it was for the sake of the cartel. Heaven help her if he ever realized that no one had had to persuade her to do this job; it had been her idea.

But she wasn’t being entirely altruistic either. She had more than a little skin in the game because the viability of her television career depended on the Ramirez brothers being successful in their mission to become power brokers in the media industry. Also, when it came to him, her life depended on her not taking this scam too far. She was courageous, not crazy.

She knew she didn’t belong to him yet — but as far as he was concerned, she already did. And there would be hell to pay.