Trust Me

Stark Security?”
    “No. It could be any one of my employees. Hell, even my secretary has her own computer. She knows how to send and receive email just as well as I do. It could even be a janitor who’s found a way to access one of the computers at night.”
    “Good grief.”
    “And the list of possible suspects doesn’t end there,” Stark said. “It could be someone outside the company. Someone who found a way into one of my computers through a modem hookup.”
    Desdemona stared at him in astonishment. “You mean it could be anyone who was smart enough to get through your security from some other computer outside the building?”
    “Yes. There’s enough money in this kind of thing to tempt anyone who was already leaning in the wrong direction,” Stark said.
    “How are you going to track down the villain of the piece?”
    “An hour ago I set a trap.”
    Desdemona put a pan of water on the stove. “What kind of trap?”
    “I sent a message to Mr. Anonymous at Stark Security.”
    Desdemona started to slice mushrooms. “What kind of message?”
    “I posed as another mercenary who wanted to take over the contract that Tate failed to fulfill. I offered to do it at a discount rate. If I can get a response, I’ll be able to nail him.”
    Desdemona stopped slicing mushrooms. “Stark, that sounds dangerous.”
    “I’ve got to lure Tate’s client out into the open. To do that I need to make contact.”
    A shiver went through her. “I don’t like this.”
    “Neither do I.” Stark smiled wryly. “But look on the bright side. I’m finally convinced that good old Tony wasn’t Tate’s client.”
    Desdemona wrinkled her nose. “I told you so.”
    “Yes, you did, didn’t you?” Stark glanced at his watch.
    “In a hurry?”
    “I was just wondering if I’d have time to seduce you after dinner.”
    “I can have this pasta on the table in ten minutes,” Desdemona said demurely.
    “Good.” The weary look vanished from Stark’s eyes. “I can eat it in eight.”
    It took determination and fortitude, but he got her all the way to the bed before he succumbed to the relentless tide of physical desire.

    Forty-five minutes later, Stark savored the delicious ripples of Desdemona’s impending release. Her whole body clutched at him, drawing him irresistibly, inevitably toward the glittering storm.
    “Stark. Stark.”
    Braced on his elbows above her, he looked down, captivated, as always, by the sight of her face in the moment of climax. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted. Her skin glowed with a damp sheen. Her nails bit deeply in his shoulder.
    She was impossibly beautiful, impossibly sensual, a creature of magic. And she was going to marry him.
    He groaned as he felt her tighten around him. He held himself back with an effort of will, wanting to delay his own release until he had experienced hers to the fullest.
    At last it was over.
    He began to move within her again.
    “No.” Desdemona kissed his throat. She opened her eyes and pushed against his shoulders. “My turn.”
    “What?”
    “Hush. Let me do this.” She pushed harder.
    He hesitated. He was poised on the brink and the last thing he wanted to do was withdraw from her tight, moist body, even for a few seconds.
    But he sensed her determination and found it deeply erotic. Reluctantly he allowed himself to be rolled onto his back. Desdemona came down on top of him. She fitted herself to him. Her eyes were brilliant in the shadows. Her body was still so hot that he wondered why it didn’t set fire to his blood.
    She rode him with a sweet, wild energy that took his breath.
    He glimpsed the patterns at the border between chaos and complexity, and once more, just for an instant, he comprehended them.

    “Stark?” Desdemona spoke from the other side of the shoji screen where she was dressing.
    “Yes?” Stark picked up the shirt he had left midway between the kitchen and the bedroom area. He glanced toward the shoji screen. Desdemona’s nude body was clearly silhouetted against the opaque white barrier.
    “You said Vernon Tate’s client received his email communications through one of the computers at your company.”
    “Looks that way.”
    “And you said that theoretically it could be someone outside your company. Someone who’s cracked your security system.”
    “Yes.” He studied the lush curve of her hips as she bent over the bed.
    “He’d have to be good to do that, wouldn’t he?”
    “Yes. But there’s no such thing