Going Too Far. Tori Carrington

she said in warning.

      “Marie?” he responded, looking innocent.

      Only both of them knew that Ian Kilborn, either as a barracudalike defense attorney or the mouth-watering young man who had seduced her, was far from innocent.

      Which made her present situation all the more trying.

      She heaved a gusty sigh, walked one way and stared at the Chinese art on his wall, then the other and gazed at the black lacquer bookcase filled not with law books but crystal pieces, then stopped, tapping a finger against her lips. She wondered briefly how either of her friends would handle this situation.

      Jena McCade-Brodie no doubt would round the desk, straddle his chair and seduce the information right out of him.

      Dulcy Ferris-Landis would outwit every last detail from him without his being aware he’d said a word. Or, better yet, make it look like he’d offered up the information voluntarily.

      Neither approach emerged appealing or likely in Marie’s case. She didn’t have Jena’s oozing sexuality. And Dulcy…well, there was only one of her.

      So Marie fell back on the next best thing.

      “You know, Ian,” she said, slowly turning back to face him. Oh, sure, he might have seduced her, but a girl didn’t succumb to such talents without learning a thing or two. And since she’d done her share of thinking about the seduction she’d probably learned quite a bit. “There is, um, some interesting information that I might be able to share.”

      He must have caught on to the change in her demeanor because his chair snapped upright and his hands were no longer folded against his glorious abs. “I don’t see that anything you’d have to say could help your father’s case.”

      “No. No. You’re right about that.”

      She took a wicked kind of pleasure watching the grin vanish from his handsome face.

      Interesting that when he thought he was in control he looked like the cat that still held the mouse in his mouth. But now that she was threatening to turn the tables he looked more like the mouse. A devastatingly sexy mouse.

      “However,” she said, leaning her hands against his desktop again, although this time with a purposeful prowl that made him pull at his collar. She watched his gaze flick to the V in her blouse and she discreetly thrust out her breasts against the fabric. “There might be some information I could impart that my father might be interested in.” She allowed her gaze to skim over his face. “In fact, I think what I have to say would interest my entire family.”

      “Your brothers?” Ian asked, seeming torn between looking down her blouse and concentrating on what she had just said.

      “Uh-huh.”

      “You mean…”

      Marie nodded. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

      The battle was won as Ian’s full attention focused on her face rather than her physical assets.

      “You wouldn’t,” he said.

      Marie couldn’t help herself. She had to smile at that one. “Tell me, Ian…is that a risk you’re willing to take?”

      “Having your family find out about us? I mean, what happened between us?” He cleared his throat and this time when he smoothed his tie his movements were more concentrated. “No.”

      “I thought not.” She stood to her full height, surprised to find her nipples tingling and her thighs very, very hot. “So tell me.”

      “YOUR FATHER’S UNDER investigation for racketeering. Well, more specifically, money laundering. But you get the idea.”

      Ian said the words clearly, carefully, then allowed Marie the time she needed to absorb the information.

      Damn, she was beautiful. And sexy as all get out when she was upset. And she was definitely upset. Her eyes flashed. Her smooth skin flooded with color. And he could all but see the tips of her breasts pressing against the creamy silk of her shirt, even though she was no longer bending over his desk.

      She might be dressed in her normal armor of crisp business suit, but if he wasn’t mistaken, the skirt of this one was a little shorter, the blouse a little tighter. He wondered if she’d dressed with him in mind that morning. Then he threw the thought out when her deep intake of breath broke the silence.

      “By whom?” she asked, all power trip gone from her expression, shock taking its place.

      “The U.S. Treasury Department.”

      “The U.S. Treasury Department?” She finally took him up on his invitation and sat down. Well, she didn’t so much sit down as collapse into the chair behind her.

      “Yes, you know, they’re going after him for tax evasion.” Ian couldn’t help it when his gaze flicked to where her knees showed below the hem of her skirt and her distracted state allowed a nice little peek at a tantalizing stretch of thigh and a flash of her white panties before she automatically crossed her legs.

      “God, a scene from The Untouchables just flashed through my mind,” she whispered, her gaze focused somewhere out the window behind him.

      Ian chuckled. While he was getting flashes of white panties, she was seeing old gangster films. “Marie, we’re not talking Eliot Ness here. Or Al Capone, for that matter.”

      Her gaze settled on him, making him wish she were there for any other reason than what she was.

      “Yes, but you know what they say about my family.”

      “What? That because your father emigrated from Sicily when he was a teenager that he must be a member of the Cosa Nostra?”

      She winced, reminding him of how hurt she used to be when the kids in the neighborhood teased her about her Italian heritage. Frank Sr. was secretly called Don Bertelli. Of course, not a one would dare say anything in front of her brothers, but there were plenty of times when Frankie Jr., Anthony and Mario weren’t around. Many times, Ian had stepped in to take care of the situation without Marie or her family ever knowing about it.

      She took a deep breath. “My father owns a chain of dry cleaners, for God’s sake. What could the Treasury Department possibly want from him?”

      Ian rested his forearms against the desk he’d inherited from the guy who’d inhabited the office before him. The guy who had inherited the same office from the guy before him eight months before that. With that kind of track record, ever since his first day on the job, he’d considered his career to be on ice as thin as the glass of his table.

      “That’s what he hired me to find out.” He pushed some papers out of his way. “A treasury agent pulled him in the day before yesterday for some preliminary questioning.”

      Marie’s gaze finally seemed to focus on him. “And he called you.”

      Ian nodded. “And he called me.”

      She looked so sweetly and sexily confused that he had to force himself to remember this was the same woman who had just blackmailed him for the information he’d just shared.

      He gave a frown. Of course, he never would have caved if he didn’t have such a long history with Marie’s family.

      That had certainly been a factor in his accepting her father’s case.

      While he’d been blown away when his secretary had told him Frank Bertelli Sr. was on the phone for him two days ago, he’d been more than a little intrigued about why he was calling. And even more intrigued when Frank had asked him to come down and act as his attorney.

      Why him? There had to be at least a hundred other attorneys he could have called. Why seek out the Irish kid that used to live in his neighborhood? Especially since he had a daughter who could handle his case just as easily.

      Of course he hadn’t asked either question, although he did still want to