“No!”  Mar said.  “You haven’t really given me a chance.”  She wedged herself in between the coffee table and the sectional, her hands on his waist.

         Ignoring the way she could feel his muscles play under her fingers, Mar tried to push him into the cushy seats again.  He didn’t budge.  The man was as solid as a fire hydrant.  She gave him another shove, which made no difference at all.  Clearly he had been humoring her when he let her push him around before.

          “Please,” she beseeched.  “I’m new at this.”

          “Are you,” he said with a knowing glint of humor.  But he sat down.

          Great.  Excellent.  Except the table behind her now made a cold hard line across her calves and his hands were inches away from her thighs.  The hungry way he looked at her breasts should be counted as a good thing, shouldn’t it?  It made her as jumpy as a Mini-Mart cashier.

         Then she got a brilliant idea.  She’d heard of strippers who danced on top of tables.  Why not her?  She came around the end so that she faced him across the hard, dark surface, and shoved the satchel to one end.   Then she crawled up onto it.  She might have stood on it, but that seemed to put them at too much distance.

         Kneeling on the cold, onyx table with her legs parted a touch more than was completely comfortable, she eased the gauze shirt back, framing her black lace bra.  Her breasts pushed against the upper edge of the thin bit of lace.  She hoped they were distracting enough.

          Mr. Pennimon, Zack, swallowed as if his throat had gone suddenly dry. Yes, facing him was much better.  She’d have to keep that in mind.

          She ran her finger slowly up and down the edge of her bra until she could see he was starting to recollect himself with a blink. Then she unhooked the front, and let it slide open.

          He swallowed again, this time reaching for the glass of wine he’d forgotten earlier.  Yes!  Finally!  The glass hovered in front of his parted lips.  She leaned forward, letting her breasts swing enticingly toward him, intent on taking the doctored wine from him when he’d had enough.  She wanted Mr. Pennimon asleep, not dead.

          Something in his eyes flared.  The glass went to the built-in side table untouched.  For a moment she thought it would spill.  He never took his eyes off her.  The glass settled unerringly, not losing a drop.

         Then his hands came up, reaching for her.  Mar scrambled backward, nearly unsettling the onyx table top from its wrought iron base.    Her foot bumped the satchel, almost pushing it to the floor. 

         Ah hah!  Salvation.  She reached inside and pulled out a long, silk scarf that she’d originally planned on dancing with. She slid off the back of the table, then came around slowly.

          “Naughty boy. You keep forgetting.  Look.  Don’t touch.”  She even made it sound as if she knew what she was doing.  All those years of drama class were paying off.

          She proceeded to tie the scarf around his wrists.   Relieved that he made no resistance, she tied his wrists together behind his back.  Maybe the fact she had her chest up against his face had something to do with it.  The suspicion was confirmed when she felt his open mouth on her flesh.

          She backed up quickly.  He moved as if to grab her – not as though he intended to throw her to the floor and have his way so much as to keep her from taking a pratfall - hit the ends of the scarf, then stopped.  His well-honed muscles relaxed.  Well, this would indeed keep his hands off her, but now he couldn’t drink the wine.

          Now what?

          She had to get it into him somehow, without forcing it down his throat.  Changing tactics, she settled on the soft, blue sectional next to him.  She reached across him toward the built in side table, ignoring the way her breasts brushed across the well-worn cotton of his shirt.

          He leaned back with a groan, stretching his legs before him.  The bulge in the front of his pants was far more clearly defined now.

         She seriously considered what it would be like to strip for real, for a living.  There was a heady sense of power in this game, but it kind of frightened her.  This wasn’t what she wanted to be or do with her life.

         Luckily it wasn’t real.  She could consider it just another bright and beautiful new experience to add to her collection. 

          Or not. There was far too much at stake this time to make a game of it, and so many of her other bright and beautiful experiences hadn’t turned out so well.

         Never mind.  She had a job to do, and had darn well better get down to it.

         She took up her glass of wine and pretended to drink.  She could taste a trace of the wine’s heady sweetness.  She offered it to him.  He shook his head.  He didn’t say anything, but seemed fascinated by her exposed breasts.

         She tried to press his own glass to his lips.  He turned his head away, eyes narrowed distrustfully.  There was a lot more intelligence in his face than Mar was comfortable with, considering the circumstances.  Not that she wanted him to be a slobbering idiot, but it would certainly make her job easier.

          No way was he going to let her feed him the wine.  She’d pushed too many times and raised his suspicions.  She had to get the wine into him in order to look around.  She had to look around, maybe snap a few pictures, and provide evidence suitable for a lawyer if she wanted to get paid.  She had to get paid if she didn’t want to get evicted from her apartment.  And she really, really did not want to end up on the street.

          It was either take it to a whole 'nother level, or admit defeat.  She was going to have to resort to drastic measures.

         What she had in mind was a bit more than she’d bargained for, but no one could ever say Mar held back in a pinch.  She threw a leg over his lap and settled herself against him.  Then she poured a thin stream of wine down her front, between her breasts, and leaned in for him to lick it up.

          In the last second, as she drew near, he turned his head.  In a flash he’d sucked her nipple into his mouth.  The incredible things he could do with his tongue! The feel of him there held her transfixed.  Shockwaves of excitement spread from the taut feeling of her nipple all through her body.  She found herself grinding up against him, her head thrown back and a lustful growl on her lips.

         He switched sides.  In an instant of clarity, Mar flinched.  She couldn’t believe she had ended up sitting in his lap with her nipple in his mouth.  The man didn’t need hands when he had a tongue like that.  He had her hotter than she’d even been before, and she hadn’t even gotten a drop of wine into him.

          If hard resolve hadn’t reared its head, she’d have been off his lap and out the door before he could open his eyes, let alone stop licking the sticky valley between breasts.  And then she’d have found herself on the other side of the door wearing next to nothing.  The case would be ruined.  Jessica would be furious.  Mar’s career would be officially dead.

         And Mr. Pennimon’s mouth was inches from her other nipple, kissing along the soft mound toward the sensitive tip.  Showing a wonderful amount of foresight and self restraint, Mar poured a little stream of wine down that breast.  He lapped it up greedily. She started to pour a little more down to trickle into his mouth, but he broke off.

         His brow was furrowed perplexedly.  He smacked his lips a couple of times, then glanced at the wine bottle. 

         And he’d left her feeling needy and vulnerable.  The realization that she’d gone way out on a limb, and the limb had broken under her, was going to be devastating pretty soon.

          Then what?  Crawl off his lap and apologize for trying to drug him?  Even if he didn’t have her arrested she’d have to go home without that commission, without the money to pay her rent, and with no future jobs on the horizon.  She would have to admit to Joe, her partner, that he was right.  This was the worst idea she’d had yet.

          She was NOT going to fail.  She simply hadn’t tried hard enough, yet.  Mar gently brought his face back around.  She guided him to her breast and rubbed the protruding nipple across his lips.

          With a steady, intense look straight into her eyes, he opened his mouth on her.

          It felt too good. She didn’t want him to stop.  Never had she felt so exotic or so alluring.  She arched into him, rocking against the hard ridge in the front of his sweatpants.

          Once he was sucking heartily, and she was sure she hadn’t lost him, she began pouring dribbles of wine down her breast again.

         She wasn’t sure how much he’d actually swallowed, or how big a dose it would take, but about a half of the glass was gone now and his motions were slowing down.

          She stood.  Her gauze shirt had come off some time before, and lay crumpled on the floor.  One strap of her bra was down to her elbow.  She gave it an unselfconscious tug.

          His eyes were sleepy, but still on her.

         She raised her arms over her head and began to move, swaying slowly in time with the music.  Unable to resist herself, she shimmied all the way around, exposing all sides to his perusal and enjoying the feeling that he liked what he saw.  Too bad she’d tied his hands together so he couldn’t touch her now, except the bump of a knee.  Facing him again, she ran her hands up and down the backs of her thighs, a motion that thrust her chest out at him.

          He closed his eyes, and slumped into the over-stuffed cushions.

          For a startled instant she was unhappy that he wasn’t paying attention any longer.  Then she realized that she’d achieved her goal.

         At last!  Mar unleashed a deep sigh to relief.  A motion under his eyelid made her breath catch.  Was he faking it? When nothing else happened, she told herself she was being silly.

          She hooked her bra together on the way to the entertainment center, but made no other effort to cover herself before beginning her search.

         The statuette probably wasn’t in this room at all.  She’d find it in a bedroom or… kitchen?  It certainly wasn’t on any of the open shelves, though there was a statuette of a Tang Dynasty horse mixed in with the books and electronic equipment. She began by bending over and opening the sliding doors at floor level.  A record collection - actual vinyl – was all she found there.  The next level up yielded a mess of CDs, DVDs, cassette tapes and videos, but no statuettes.

         She had never seen the statuette in question.  According to Jessica’s description it depicted a couple kissing.  It stood about eighteen inches high, and was done in bronze.  She opened the last of the entertainment center’s cupboards to find a hand full of broken and twisted lumps of bronze, but couldn’t tell if it was what she was after.  They looked like someone had chopped up a statuette with a torch.  She reached in for the pieces, intending to put together enough of them to see what it was.

         “What do you think you’re doing?”  Mr. Pennimon’s deep voice whispered across the back of her neck from inches away.

         She whirled on her toes, sending him back a step.  The scarf trailed off of one wrist.  Who was this guy?  Houdini? She had whirled a little too enthusiastically, and nearly lost her balance.  He stepped forward, closing every last inch between them, and grabbed her elbows at her sides.

          “I said, what do you think you’re doing?”  He was speaking more clearly now, throwing off what little effect the wine had had. “Well?”

         “N-nothing!”

          “Charlie didn’t send you, did he.”  His voice brimmed with conviction.  “It was Jessica, wasn’t it.  Is she still after that statuette?”

         “Jessica?  Um…. Jessica who?”

          He quirked an eyebrow knowingly at her, tucking his chin at a disbelieving angle.

          “How did you know?”  Mar muttered, feeling vulnerable.  She had been so sure she’d done everything right this time.

         “Charlie doesn’t know what kind of wine I like.  Nor would he have sent someone who would bother with it.  The last bimbo he sent over threw her clothes off as soon as the door was closed.  I had to pry her off with a chair.”  The look of disgust said volumes about the effectiveness of the bimbo’s ploy.

          Embarrassment washed her face red.  Of course he would consider her a bimbo too. “I am NOT a bimbo!”

         “Then what are you?”  He leaned down toward her.  A touch of humor danced lightly around his eyes and one corner of his mouth as if he already knew the answer.  As if he was teasing her.

          Then his crisp blue eyes flicked down to her lips and the humor was replaced with hunger.  He leaned a little more.  Another few inches and he could be kissing her.  She leaned away, arching her back in the process.

         He was so very strong, his grip on her elbows firm though not painful.  He stood so close she could take in his essence, more as a feeling than an actual scent.  Male. All male.

          Oh, this idea was as bad as jumping out of the back of that van full of stolen goods last summer.  She had almost been arrested.  Not to mention the police nearly ran over her in the pursuit car.  Officer Johansen had given her a long lecture that time.

         “I’m… I’m a private investigator,” Mar mumbled.  She supposed it was time to come clean on that score, at least.

         Mr. Pennimon stopped with his head tilted at the right angle for a kiss.  She could feel his breath on her lips.  He looked mildly surprised.  Then a reluctant grin twisted up the corners of his mouth.

          Mar found her hand rising as if to touch him.  He was disturbingly handsome just then.  Realizing how dorky she must look, she turned the motion into a stopping gesture and ended up with her hand on his chest.

         “I thought so.  You’re the same woman who asked me for the statuette a few weeks ago, aren’t you.  Jessica hired you to get it for her.”

          “Only to get proof you had it.”  Actually, Jessica did want Mar to take it, but that wasn’t in Mar’s plans.  Jessica could go through the court system just like anyone else, bonus not withstanding.  “She said you were supposed to give it back after you broke the engagement.  You really shouldn’t have kept it, you know.  It’s adding insult to injury, leaving her at the altar then refusing to give the statuette back.”

         “Insult to injury!  What did she tell you about me?”  He released her arms and moved away from her.  Relief warred with regret as Mar took a deep, cleansing breath.

          “Only that you broke the engagement after all the invitations had already gone out.”

          “Did she tell you WHY I broke it?”

           Mar shook her head.  She took in the grim line of his firm jaw, the angry glint in his gorgeous blue eyes, and the broad shoulders.  No wonder Jessica had been so wounded.  Mr. Pennimon was a real catch.

          “I found her in bed with Charlie.”