Kissing Sin

and let it out slowly. 'What about a compromise?'

He didn't even bother looking at me. 'What?'

'When you're in Melbourne to see me, I won't see anyone else. But when you're in Sydney, I'm free to see whom I wish. And the days leading up to the full moon are mine.'

'What about Misha?'

'Misha is part of this mission, and until the mission is over, this agreement will not come into force. Besides, we both know Misha is not the only sinner I might have to kiss before this case is solved.'

'If it was just kissing I wouldn't mind so much.' He muttered, then turned around. 'A deal, then.'

My hormones let out a collective cheer. 'And you'll accept the fact that there will be other lovers besides you?'

His dark eyes gleamed with displeasure. 'As long as you stick to your promise once this mission is over, then yes.'

Finally, we had an agreement we could both live with. 'Want to celebrate the deal by cooking me another burger?'

A small smile touched his lips. 'That I can do.' And he did.

The function was being held on the eighth floor of The Haborside, a brand-new hotel complex that boasted views over the old Sydney Harbor Bridge and the Opera House. The ballroom itself was decked out in cream—walls, ceiling, and tables—as if not to compete with the magnificence of the views so visible through the windows that enclosed two sides of the room. The only glint of color to the scheme was the gold in the frames of the chandeliers., and the spray of rainbow hues across the ceiling as the light hit the heavy crystal pendants.

Of course, no one had told the guests that competing with the view wasn't an option, and the ballroom was a blaze of human color—at least when it came to the women. And I was pleased to note that most of the dresses were as short as mine. Liander had been right, as usual.

Quinn pressed a hand against my back as we followed the waiter down the stairs. Though the touch was light, it seared right down to my spine, and had need humming through my body. While I knew I couldn't afford to lose any more blood tonight, that didn't stop me from wanting him. By the same token, I didn't actually want to go to Misha feeling this way. The bastard didn't deserve it.

People glanced our way as we passed them by, some of them nodding in greeting at Quinn. He didn't even bother looking at them, much less responding. His gaze was strictly front and center, and I frowned, searching the crowd ahead of us, wondering what had caught his attention. Not that I could see much beyond the glitter of all the diamonds on show around us. It was just as well the room had lots of discreetly placed guards, because the truck- load of jewels on display would call to a thief as surely as nectar to a bee.

'What's wrong?' I asked, after a few seconds.

He glanced at me, dark eyes flat. 'Thought I saw someone I knew.'

'Male someone, or female someone?'

'Male. The son of a business rival.'

'Anyone I'd know?'

'Unlikely, though you've undoubtedly heard of the company—Sirius Airlines.'

'They just won the contract for daily flights to the European Collective's Space Station, didn't they?'

'Yes.'

The dark way he said that had me glancing at him. 'Beating you out of the contract, I'm gathering?'

'Yes.'

'Publicly thumping him is not going to get that contract back, you know.'

He gave me his vampire face. 'Beating him up wouldn't do any good, because it is not the son that runs the company. I merely wish to give him a warning.'

The waiter stopped at an empty table near the corner of the room. I glanced at the window, not sure I liked being so close to it. I might be disguised, but Quinn wasn't, and we still hadn't figured out who or what was behind the recent attempts on his life.

'So, what is his name and what are you warning him about?' I took the seat opposite the window. We might be only eight floors up, but if I got too close and saw the drop, my stomach would react. And I doubt that would endear me to my tablemates.

'That's not your concern,' Quinn said.

His reply was almost absent, and annoyance rose. Dammit, I was getting more than a little tired of our relationship—whatever the hell that actually was—being a one-way information street. And being old and set in his ways wasn't excuse enough.

I thrust to my feet, needing to get out of there before I said something daft or we got back to the same old argument, but he grabbed me, his fingers like iron around my wrist.

'I'm sorry, Riley.'

'No, you're not.' I glanced down at his fingers. 'Take your hand off my arm.'

'Only if you sit down so we can talk.'

'Right now, I have work to do. And I'm over talking to you.'

'Please.'

'No.'

'What if I said the man I was looking for was Kellen Sinclair?'

'Telling me his name now means little.' And I had to hope his Kellen wasn't my Kellen—though given the curveballs fate was throwing, I wasn't about to bet on it. 'I want to be able to ask a question and have it answered civilly.'

'I said I'll try, Riley, but you can't expect—'

He stopped abruptly.

'Yeah,' I said softly. 'But apparently it's okay for you to expect me to change overnight.'

I peeled his fingers off my arm and stepped back, out of his reach. 'I'm going to scout the room. I'll let you know if I scent or see anyone familiar.'

He almost looked relieved at the prospect. 'You shouldn't be doing that alone.'

'Liander has masked my spoor and my looks. I'm safe enough here tonight.'

'Even so, we're here to get a line on General Hunt, nothing more.'

'We're here to uncover the trail to whoever is behind the gene manipulation business. I happen to think Hunt is just another rung in the ladder, which is why I want to scout the room first. There may be other players here.'

Besides, I needed the time away from him. Needed to regroup my thoughts before I was tempted to tell him where to shove it. Hell, given fate's twisted line of thinking, it'd be my luck that the one man I walked away from would be the man who was my destiny.

'You find Hunt,' I continued. 'I'll join you once I look around.'

I didn't give him the chance to argue, and quickly faded into the crowd milling on the dance floor. I was three-quarters of the way around the room—and feeling more than a little nauseous from the overwhelming wall of scent coming off every woman in the room, all of whom seemed to have bathed in the stuff—when I smelled it. Pine and springtime. Two of the scents I'd smelled in that breeding center.

I stopped abruptly and studied the people standing immediately in front of me. Just a bunch of gray-haired old ladies done up to the nines. No men. I frowned, and carefully sniffed the air, wondering if the press of aromas was confusing my senses.

The scent was there, as strong as before, and it was definitely coming from the group of women just ahead. Maybe there was a man in there somewhere, and I just couldn't see him.

I edged around a woman whose scent was so thick and orangy it made my already troublesome stomach threaten to rise, then moved closer to the group of elderly women. Still no men. Yet the scent was closer than before.

'So where is the delicious Martin?' one woman asked. 'He owes me a champagne over that little wager we had.'

Martin? Did she mean Martin Hunt? Did that mean his wife was in this group somewhere? I sidestepped