Unbridled. Tori Carrington

she was around him. In a life full of dull days, he’d lit a fire she couldn’t help being drawn to.

      But if he’d been strictly fantasy material before, now he was very real.

      She found that her hand had made its way down the silk of her nightgown, sliding over her hip bone and then back up again. Just thinking about him made her feel sexy, alive. Merely knowing that all she had to do was pick up the phone and make what her friends termed a “booty call” and he’d be over made her feel naughty for even considering it.

      She bit her bottom lip. God, the way she was reacting to him, you’d think she was a virgin locked away from the world for the first twenty-eight years of her life. Not a woman who’d experienced her share of orgasms, although not as often as she’d like. Sue her, but she’d yet to find a man capable of supplying her with more than one or two. Usually after a couple of dates, the men either wanted to start staying over or wanted her to sleep at their place. And she hadn’t been interested in either.

      That, or they’d expected her to fawn over them, turning from a no-nonsense, ambitious attorney to a woman who could think of nothing else but making them happy, a woman with nothing but wedding dates and dinner parties on her mind.

      It didn’t take long for them to figure out that she didn’t fit into the normal Southern girl mold. At least not yet, her father occasionally liked to joke, reminding her that time had a way of changing even the strongest, career-minded women.

      She couldn’t imagine herself changing, ever.

      Still, even she admitted to pain when she’d spot her most recent ex with another woman. He’d make sure to introduce her to his latest conquest, who appeared to be just up his alley.

      Carrie Bradshaw made a quip about men that normally would have amused her. Now she reached for the remote and shut off the television, then turned off the light, wondering if the rest of the world was out of sync with her. Or if she was out of sync with the world.

      Chapter Five

      “SO, TELL ME. Who is he?” Blake Cartwright asked.

      Laney was suddenly incapable of swallowing the thinly sliced beef in her mouth. It had been two days since she’d lunched at Raphael’s with Carter. Still, that didn’t stop her from glancing toward the table she had sat at with him, barely seeing the older couple now lunching there.

      She drank deeply from her water glass to help the food go down. “Pardon me?”

      Blake pointed at her with his fork. “No pardon granted.” He took a bite of his trout and then put his utensils down and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. Her father was so different from Carter in that he’d eaten at this and similar restaurants hundreds of times and proper protocol was second nature to him. His suit was tailored, his shirt snow-white and freshly starched, his tie silk and pierced with a clip, his hair neatly trimmed. But his question and follow-up response proved that he had more in common with Carter when it came to seeing through her.

      He narrowed his gaze. “You’ve been distracted ever since you came in. By now I usually know as many details about your latest case as your associates do, as well as what you’ve had for dinner the night before.”

      Laney’s mouth dropped open. Thankfully there was nothing in it to fall out. “I can’t possibly talk all that much.”

      Her father’s grin warmed her. “Maybe not all that much. But enough for me to know today’s quiet is out of character.”

      Laney readjusted her napkin in her lap. “I’m just a little distracted, is all. I went to see MacGregor at the county jail this morning before today’s hearing.” She gave a slight shiver, always uncomfortable with her visits to places where iron bars were the dominant décor. “He has no idea who might have sent me that note.”

      “Have you heard from the detective you gave it to?”

      “Yes. No fingerprints. No unique characteristics.”

      “No reason to further pursue the matter.”

      “His words exactly.”

      Her father folded his hands on the edge of the table. “Would you like me to look into it?”

      Blake Cartwright had had big shoes to fill, following Laney’s legendary grandfather. But he had never really looked at it that way. Perhaps once he might have, but that would have been long before Laney was old enough to notice. Most men with inherited wealth were happy to accept a token role in the family business, allowing their money to make money for them. Not her father. He wanted to leave his own unique mark. And he was doing just that by establishing himself as a very successful venture capitalist.

      In the past ten years alone, Laney could count fifteen of his schemes that had taken off, adding significantly to his wealth, most of them in green technology. Of course, he’d had to invest in a hundred to score on those fifteen, and she’d enjoyed hearing about every one of them, including the wacky idea of a hat that allowed advertisers to buy space on it when the owner registered with the mother Web site.

      Laney realized her father was waiting for an answer, so she shook her head. “Thanks, but no. I don’t feel I’m at any great risk.”

      “Sounds like famous last words to me.”

      She smiled. “God, I hope not. I didn’t get into this line of work to put my life at risk. If I had wanted to do that, I would have become a police officer.”

      “Honest work.”

      “Honest work that gets you shot in the ass.”

      Blake laughed loudly and sat back, oblivious to the looks he got. “You know, you never did answer my question.”

      “What question?” She pretended an interest in finishing her meal.

      “You know very well what question. I heard you were in here with another man the other day. You know, the one when you canceled your luncheon date with me so you could conduct an emergency meeting on the MacGregor case.”

      Laney frowned. “How could I forget how small this big city can be?”

      How stupid! She should have known that word would get back to her father. Especially considering the interest that Carter had garnered. There were probably people in the room even now whom she might not know personally but who knew her father. And while none of them would openly gossip about Carter’s questionable appearance (it wasn’t the Texan thing to do), they would politely ask after him in a way that would get their unspoken meaning across.

      “So are you planning to tell me?” her father asked again.

      Laney shook her head. “No. Because he’s of no concern.”

      And he wasn’t, was he? At least not to her father. She hadn’t heard from Carter since that day and was beginning to accept the fact that she might not. Which meant that there was zero chance that she’d ever introduce him to her father.

      She caught herself wistfully fingering the hair at the nape of her neck and stopped, smiling at her father, who watched her curiously.

      “I see,” he said.

      She opened her mouth to ask him what he saw, then thought better of it. She knew not to ask her father anything she wasn’t ready to hear the answer to.

      “Anyway, my love life is dismally boring compared to yours,” she said, lobbing the conversation back in his direction.

      His expression shifted as if to say, “That’s more like it,” and he chuckled. “At least you’re admitting to having a love life.”

      She didn’t. But despite Carter’s silence, she held out a slim hope that might change.

      LANEY USUALLY TOOK the McKinney Avenue tram back and forth to work. It was convenient and fast. But in this heat, it also meant that she’d be soaked with sweat before she got to the office. So she’d taken