Chapter 4
Jax hadn’t believed that Viviana could look sexier than she had in her infamous gold lamé gown, but she just may have done the impossible tonight. She’d turned all that he’d ever heard about every woman’s trusty staple—the little black dress—ass backwards. The only things staple or trustworthy about Viviana’s attire was that it was black and could almost be considered a dress.
The most remarkable thing about the intriguing garb was how little of it there was. The front of the sleeveless, jet-black creation plunged from her silken shoulders to her waist in a skin-baring triangle. Asking what kind of a bra one would wear with a dress that looked like it had been sprayed on her sensational body was a non sequitur. The only answer was none. There simply wasn’t room for underwear. Rather, the dress relied on Viviana’s lush breasts to daringly anchor it in place. When she turned to greet the surge of admirers, it was apparent that there was even less to the back of the dress than there was to the front.
The backless component of the concoction ended a careless inch or two above the crack separating her delectable ass cheeks. What there was of the sparkling fabric hugged her curvy hips and made the most of her firm, heart-shaped derrière. Her five-inch Manolo Blahnik strappy high heels showcased her long, toned legs and brought her almost to the shoulder of a grinning Mick O’Reilly. Protectively holding her arm, the flushed detective caught Jax’s gaze from across the room and gave him a “what can I say, man?” shrug. Jax allowed his lips to quirk up at the corner and returned the gesture with an ironic nod.
It took a moment of assessing Viviana’s spectacular appearance for Jax to realize that the most striking element of the vision was her hair. Viviana had cunningly piled her luxurious, sun-streaked hair in a rampant tangle of curls on the top of her head. She’d secured the shining mass with crystal-studded combs that allowed flagrant tendrils to spring tantalizing free around her face and neck. The shocking dress could have made her look merely flashy or overtly sexual. Instead, her unexpected hairdo lent her a stylish, sophisticated air. The overall effect was that she was even more exotically sexual.
As Jax narrowly studied her, planning his coming assault, he decided that the second to last item he would remove from her beautiful body were those combs. The image of that lush, golden hair cascading over her naked shoulders hardened his dick further. Envisioning dispensing with her wicked hooker heels—the last remnant of clothing that would go—brought his fearsome arousal to nail-pounding strength. Hearing Greg’s helpless murmurs, Jax dragged his attention from the most beautiful woman in the world and turned to the gaping man at his side.
“Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Jax! I knew she was show-stopping gorgeous, but fuck it, man, there can’t be a living, breathing man here tonight who isn’t gonna store that image in his ever-ready jerkoff folder. Hell, taking out the file won’t be necessary. The memory alone will be enough.” Shaking his head in disbelief, he glared at Jax. “I’ve always admired you, Jax. Even been a little envious of your arrogance. But, buddy, if you think that you can corral that remarkable piece of ass, I concede that your arrogance is well-earned.” Staring at the sparkling vision in black, Greg emitted a heartfelt groan. “Dammit, I’ll admit it. Given that hungry look she just threw you, there isn’t any question. You truly are as hot shit as you think you are.”
Not taking his gaze off her, Jax put his glass down on the edge of the bar and started to cross the room. As he passed by his star-struck friend, he murmured, “You wanted to know where the mines are, Greg? Take a good look, buddy. It isn’t necessary to mark them. Best you stop thinking of individual mines and understand that Viviana Moreau, aka the Enchantress, is a fucking minefield. When she’s on the move, there isn’t a person or structure within miles of her that isn’t in danger of exploding.”
Striding toward her, Jax held her gaze, not letting her look away. It was important that this wickedly taunting woman, who knew well the effect that her daring entrance had caused, acknowledge that there was one man and one man only who was going to take her up on her brazen invitation. It was an invitation she flagrantly extended and just as audaciously never made good on. It was all part of the scandalously provocative game she’d played over the years, always promising, never delivering. Until she met him. Or to be more precise, until he met her.
***
“Jaa-sus fuckin’ Christ, Vivi!”
Viviana couldn’t help but laugh at her rowdy partner. Mick was clinging to the doorjamb, his eyes wide with shock, looking thoroughly bowled over. She sniffed and pretended surprise. “Can I assume from your expression, Detective O’Reilly, I succeeded in accomplishing my goals for this evening?”
Choking on his breath, Mick wheezed, then visibly forced himself to answer. “Uh, yeah, Viv, without knowing what your goals were, I’d say you achieved one thousand percent of them. Particularly if they included bringing every fucking man at the bash to his knees, begging for mercy and praying that he doesn’t embarrass himself by jizzing all over his tux.”
Rolling her eyes, Viviana frowned. “Really, Detective, you needn’t be crude.”
Mick was fierce. “Crude? Hell, woman, if anything, I’m understating what is likely to happen when you waltz into the ballroom tonight in that dress!” He made a rotating gesture with his fingers indicating she should turn around. Seeing the back of her outrageous attire, Mick shook his head in disbelief. “I repeat. Jaa-sus fuckin’ Christ, Vivi. Can you even call those twenty-four square inches of fabric a dress?”
Viviana winked at him. “So in other words, not easily surprised partner of mine, you think that tonight I may catch the attention of—”
Mick interrupted her. “Of every goddamned man in the room? And that you might be the subject of every conversation in the men’s room tonight. Not to mention the basis of every couple’s bedroom argument when the ‘mantsy’ guy gets shunted to the sofa for making a grunting ass of himself?” Mick added with a groan, “Ya think, cocktease of all cockteases?”
Mick’s expression darkened, then lightened as his usual grin spread across his face. “Oh, oh, oh, wait just a fuckin’ minute here. Seeing that evil smile of yours, I get it. My little ‘Nikita’ isn’t thinking about the masses of men who will be embarrassing themselves tonight.” He shook his head. “Uh-uh. Methinks the sex pixy has her eye on a certain righteous guy. The guy who is almost as alluring as my little cockjammer is. The man who no doubt will have every woman in the room as amped up as my naughty partner has their hapless mates praying for relief.”
Viviana tossed her head, not surprised that her longtime partner had outed her. Of course, the outrageous Irishman would guess her goal for the evening. Hell, Mick knew her as well as anyone did. She qualified that assertion with an annoyed sniff. Except, that is, for a certain Black Irish Lothario who had not only excavated his way into her body but had done a damn good job of mining her psyche. Glad that Mick was as bowled over as she’d hoped he’d be, she held out her hand. “Since you have discerned my mission for the night, how about we blow this pop stand and make our way to the unsuspecting and uptight mayor’s bash?”
Mick’s face cracked in a grin as he blew out a heartfelt sigh. “I can only hope that your target for the evening understands that I am merely an unassuming appendage to help you heighten his interest. As if anyone could upstage that arrogant badass.”
Viviana laughed in delight and squeezed Mick’s hand appreciatively. “I’m glad that we agree on that basic truth. If ever there was an arrogant badass, it is our new chief of police.” Slipping her arm through his and tugging Mick next to her, she smiled up at him. “How about it, partner? Are you ready to raise a few dozen eyebrows and at least pique the interest of that insufferable, egotistical Casanova who thinks that no woman, including yours truly, can resist him?”
Mick’s guffaw confirmed what they both knew. That Viviana was putty in the accomplished hands of the man who had done what no other man had dared and in the process, thoroughly undone her.
***
Smiling at the frazzled, balding mayor who’d glanced nervously at his wide-eyed wife beside him, Viviana put out her hand. “Good evening, Mayor Simpson. Thank you for inviting me to your lovely party.” Tugging Mick forward, she said, “I believe you know my partner, Detective Mick O’Reilly.”
Sounding a bit agitated, the mayor nodded and said, “But of course, another of the VCU heroes who succeeded in bringing down that scurrilous bunch of criminals that has made San Jose infamous in the annals of crime.” Taking a deep breath, the clearly nervous man grabbed his pale wife’s arm and dragged her next to him as if the astounded woman would protect him from Viviana’s spell. Fortunately for the fumbling official and his benumbed wife, Mick’s blarney saved them both. Turning to the speechless woman who hadn’t stopped staring at Viviana’s dress, he said, “How do you do, Mrs. Simpson? I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you before. My evening is now complete.”
Viviana stifled a grin and allowed her outrageous partner to take up the slack in the tense conversation. Without intending to, she glanced across the crowded ballroom. She instantly knew she’d made a critical error. As if it were a heat-seeking missile, her gaze traversed the distance between them and landed on the tall man leaning insouciantly against the edge of the bar. She dimly realized that he was standing next to her new boss, who looked positively flummoxed. But it wasn’t the handsome, shaggy-haired blond who’d captured her breath. Rather, it was the dark, emerald-eyed man who was gazing at her through narrowed eyes. Her breath caught in her throat when he casually put his glass on the bar and drew himself up to his full height. An ironic smile tugged at his lips as he ambled toward her, looking for all the world like a lean, prowling panther who’d sighted his prey.