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She could only hope Annemarie would be proud. Sara might not have been able to solve her sister’s murder, but she’d solved others. She’d eased other families’ pain. Try as she might to content herself with that fact, it somehow was never enough.
Kyle eased the bike to the side of the road, snapping Sara’s focus back to the man—and the case—at hand. He cut the bike’s engine, climbed off the massive machine then helped Sara down from the back of the seat, no easy feat in her heels and dress.
When he kept her fingers tightly in his grip, she resisted the urge to pull them free, instead playing the part of the smitten female.
She followed him to the lookout’s edge, gazing down into a valley of jagged rock, stands of evergreens and lush green rolling hillsides. If she weren’t mistaken, the Turner ranch lay in the distance. She could just make out the shape of the buildings and the well-lit grounds.
“Isn’t that—?”
“Sure is,” Kyle answered before she finished her sentence.
He dropped her hand, leaving her fingers oddly cool where his had been. Sara shook off the unwanted sensation, silently reminding herself not to be pulled under by the man’s obviously practiced charm.
When he stepped behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, she fought the urge to toss him over one shoulder and onto his back. Her automatic self-defense response screamed at her to make the move, but her undercover role demanded she stay put.
“Look at this land.” His breath brushed past her ear and a shiver of awareness traced its way across Sara’s shoulders. “This is my favorite place to visit.”
And probably with a different female each time, Sara thought.
“Gorgeous,” she answered. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to develop an inch of these hills.”
“Well, within limits, some development can actually add to the local tax base.”
His quick response took her by surprise, not at all what she’d expected.
“Matter of fact,” he continued, “some might look at it as a win-win. Additional housing, additional tax dollars, some pocket change for the developer, and you just never know. There might be oil in those hills.”
Oil.
Land held by at least three of the dead investors’ companies was known oil land. Maybe Kyle Prescott represented even more than the perfect means to infiltrate TCM. Maybe he also represented the perfect means to infiltrate the investing scheme.
Sara spun on him, seizing the opportunity to push for information. “You can’t be serious.”
His vivid gaze widened with evident surprise. Apparently Kyle Prescott wasn’t used to receiving criticism from his romantic conquests.
He frowned slightly. “I’m completely serious.”
Sara gestured to the expanse below them. “You actually think losing a portion of this land is a good thing?”
He narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Progress is progress, babe.”
Babe.
She spun back toward the view before he could spot the hot color firing in her cheeks. All it would take would be one swift kick to send the man flying off the cliff and into the valley he was apparently so anxious to see developed.
TCM, Sara reminded herself. Stay focused on TCM.
But she couldn’t quite ignore Kyle Prescott’s know-it-all arrogance. She waited until her face cooled, then shifted her gaze back in his direction. He stood staring past her, at the Turner ranch, if she weren’t mistaken.
“What about land preservation?” she asked.
His focus snapped from the view to her face. “What about it?”
The intensity of his focus rattled her ever so slightly. She didn’t like the sensation—didn’t like it at all. She forced her thoughts back to their conversation.
If she could keep him talking about land and oil, he might let some useful information slip into their conversation.
“I’d think you’d be more concerned about international deals than about land acquisitions.” She gave an innocent shrug, working to maintain an air of innocence. “Isn’t that your area of expertise?”
He studied her for a long moment then leaned close. “Is there a reason you’re so concerned about the land, Ms. Montgomery? I assure you I have far more interesting areas of expertise.”
Sara arched one brow. “Can’t a girl care about her environment?”
A sly grin slid across Kyle’s lips. “Sweetheart, you can care about whatever you want.”
The man’s arrogant tone sent anger flicking to life in Sara’s gut. Heat rose from her neck to her face. This time, she made no move to hide her reaction.
“I’m always amazed when a man of your obvious wealth and social status won’t use that power for good.”
“When good playboys go bad.” He leaned even closer. Too close.
Sara held her ground, squinting at him. Their conversation was getting her nowhere. He had yet to give her a straight answer. The man was hiding something, and she had every intention of finding out what.
“Mr. Prescott—”
“I could have sworn I told you to call me Kyle.”
He made his move quickly, as if he’d made it countless times before, leaning into Sara and cupping her face in the palm of one hand.
When he closed his mouth over hers, she opened her lips to protest, only to find his lips matching her moves, his tongue tangling with hers, exploring, tasting.
Traitorous heat ignited deep inside her and Sara wound her hands around his neck and into his slightly too long hair, noting the silky texture and wondering how much money he spent on salon treatments.
When he splayed his palms fully on the small of her back and pulled her body tight against his, her only thought was of how good he felt.
The hard expanse of his chest.
The warmth of his body against hers.
His obvious arousal pressed against her stomach.
Sara blinked herself back into reality before she lost control of the situation, breaking away from his kiss and pushing him out to arm’s length.
Kyle didn’t release his grip, however. Instead he gave her waist a squeeze and turned on his megawatt smile.
Sara had to admit he was good. Very good.
She could see why woman after woman fell for him, only to be discarded when he’d grown bored or received a more enticing offer.
Well, if she’d learned one thing over the years it was that the more you pushed a guy like Kyle away, the more he’d come begging. She decided then and there on her plan of attack. As much as she hated playing games, a round of hard-to-get seemed to be in order.
She drew in a dramatic breath and splayed her hand across her neck. “I think it best we get back to the ranch.”
Without saying a word, Kyle let his gaze drift from her mouth, to her hand, over the swell of her breasts, along the lines of her skirt, down the length of her legs, then slowly back up until he met her eyes.
The seconds passed in slow motion, each moment pure torture as her body heated beneath his gaze.
She swallowed just before his eyes met hers.
“You’d better wear this.” He shrugged out of his tux jacket then draped it around her shoulders. “You wouldn’t want to catch a chill.”