The Devil's Touch Read Online Free PDF Page A

thoughtfully out of the window as the limousine nosed its way into the traffic stream and then accelerated onto the freeway.
    “I don’t know your name,” Lucien said suddenly, and Angelica was drawn from the depths of her own thoughts and stared at him.
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “Your name?” Lucien asked.
    “Angelica,” she reminded him. “Angelica Benson.”
    Lucien frowned, and she noticed a little bird’s foot of creases in his furrowed brow above the compelling dark eyes.
    “That won’t do. Too many bad memories,” he hinted vaguely. “Can I call you Angel?”
    “Yes,” Angelica said. “Can I call you Lucifer?”
    He stared into her face for long startled moments – and then suddenly he burst into a fit of unaffected laughter. It was a rich, natural sound, seeming to come from deep within his broad chest and Angelica marveled at the way his face changed. In an instant the frown and creases smoothed away – and even his eyes seemed to lighten and grow larger.
    “Perfect!” he said. “What a perfect pair we would make. ‘The Angel and Lucifer’.”
    Angelica found the sound of his laugh infectious and she began to giggle.
    The miles slid away, the sound of the limousine’s engine a lulling purr, and when they hit the city Lucien leaned across the seat and pointed beyond Angelica’s window to a corner high-rise office block.
    “One of my investments,” he said.
    Suddenly he was very close to her; Angelica could feel the warmth of his body and smell the musky man-smell across the inches that separated them.
    Angelica felt as though she might suffocate. Every breath became an effort. Having his body so close set her skin on fire and stretched every nerve to breaking point. She felt the muscles in her thighs begin to tremble as though she had run a long way. Her heartbeat began to race.
    Lucien noticed it all, and he smiled silkily. He slid his hand across Angelica’s knee and rested it on her thigh.
    “Are you comfortable?”
    “Yes,” Angelica breathed the lie.
    Lucien leaned closer still, brushing his shoulder against her. Sparks flew along the length of her arm. With his free hand he twisted a finger around a whorl of her blonde hair and then his mouth was against her ear, his warm breath caressing her throat.
    “Liar,” he whispered.
    Angelica recoiled from the sound of his voice. She turned to him and Lucien’s face was serious, the charm and seductive demeanor gone in an instant.
    Then he took his hand from her leg, drawing it into a lingering caress by allowing his fingers to drift across her thigh and hip, an electric sensation that left Angelica shaken.
    “You’re not that kind of girl,” he said simply.
    Angelica felt her cheeks burn red with resentment. “Stop playing games with me,” she snapped. “And stop telling me what kind of girl I’m not. I’ve been told that enough. I don’t want to hear it any more.”
    They stared at each other, city lights flickering past the tinted windows casting a ghostly glow over their expressions. Angelica sat rigid with her hands in her lap, her breathing ragged as she teetered between her anger and her bewildering sense of arousal.
    The touch of his hand had been electric.
    There was a long brittle silence before Lucien spoke again. “Then tell me why.”
    “Why what?”
    “Why?” he gestured. “Why would you want to spend the night with someone like me?”
    “I have my reasons,” Angelica said.
    Lucien shook his head. “Not good enough. You either tell me exactly what’s driven you to do this, or I’ll have Edward take you back to the yacht club.”
    She stared at him, a silent plea in her expression but he was unmoved.
    Lucien Lance was playing hardball.
    Angelica moved restlessly in her seat, turning herself away from him defensively. Lucien sat watching her, seeing the way she held her lips pursed and the heaving tension in her breathing.
    “Revenge,” Angelica said at last. “That’s why I want to do this. My