Dance with the Devil Read Online Free PDF Page B

you miss me again.” The daggers in her eyes met their mark. In fact, her marksmanship was a legend at the agency. Legendarily bad. She couldn’t hit a barn door at high noon.
    â€œLet’s get this farce on the road.” She put a slender hand, palm down on his chest. With the other hand she reached behind her for the long zipper that curved up her back.
    He wished it was real and not staged for their unseen audience. “I’ll get the drapes.”
    â€œMake it snappy.” The dress parted revealing slender, creamy pale shoulders. Jack yanked at the drapes, but kept his eyes on the woman pretending to strip.
    â€œStop ogling. I’m doing this for the benefit of those guys outside, not for you,” Mia said impatiently. “Hurry up and close the drapes, would you?”
    Honest to God, looking at her face anyone would be forgiven for believing she was as hot for him as he was for her. But Jack knew that look in her eyes too well. It wasn’t lust—it was blood lust. Big difference.
    And he was as hard as a pistol despite knowing that Mia was stripping only for the benefit of the job. “The pull’s on the left side.”
    He used the pull and the heavy drapes slowly slid closed, blocking out the square black eyes of the French doors.
    All business now, Mia pulled the dress back up over her shoulders and struggled with the zipper as she moved swiftly to the painting on the far wall. “Just for the record, a Hollywood kiss would have done the job.”
    â€œYou know I strive for authenticity,” he told her, handing her a pair of thin latex gloves from his pocket. He leaned against the door and observed her slender, gloved fingers feel around the perimeter of the painting, studying the frame for any creative security feature.
    â€œAnything?” he asked quietly.
    â€œHand me my purse.”
    He dug the small clutch out of his pocket and opened it.
    His lips twitched. A .22, a wedge of folded tissues, a credit card, lip gloss, twenty dollars and…“God damn it, Mia!”
    She spun around. “What?”
    â€œYou have rubbers in here.”
    She lifted a brow. “And your point is?”
    â€œYou have three rubbers in here.”
    â€œYou know, Jack,” Mia said mildly, “this is absolutely the perfect time to be discussing the items in my purse—while we’re breaking and entering an ambassador’s personal safe. Your timing, as usual, is impeccable.”
    â€œDavis would’ve brought his own rubbers.”
    â€œAs it turns out, Davis—that would be you—can inflate the rubbers and float them to the moon for all I care. Hand me the compact of pressed powder.” She shot him a glare. “Please.”
    She took the everyday object and turned it into a trick of the trade. Jack noted that after loosening some of the face powder, she brought the silver compact close to her lips. His body reacted with more than just admiration as she pursed her mouth and blew the smallest stream of flesh-colored dust around the painting.
    â€œNo lasers,” she said, more to herself than to him, he was sure. Mia was so focused he doubted she even remembered he was in the room. She yanked a hair from her scalp, rubbed the spot absently, then, on tiptoes, slipped the hair a few inches around and under the painting.
    A painting which, Jack thought, was a monstrosity of flowers that looked suspiciously like a woman’s vulva.
    Mia dropped the strand of hair and slid her finger beneath the bottom edge. He heard a quick but distinct click. Then the painting hinged open to reveal a small, black, older model wall safe trimmed in gold.
    â€œCan you—?”
    Mia made a small dismissive noise. “Please. Don’t insult me.”
    Jack, ears tuned to the hum of conversation outside the door, watched as she cocked her head and her nimble fingers moved with precision around the old-fashioned dial.
    She twisted the knob to