“A ride?” Trace repeated.

“That’s the easiest way to see how experienced, or inexperienced, she really is. And since Helene isn’t keen on me doing the riding…”

Drily, his stomach churning at the level of Murray’s sickness, Trace said, “Because she’s your daughter.” He prayed that was the reason, but he had his doubts.

His doubts were confirmed.

“No, no.” Murray gave a deep chuckle. “Helene doesn’t buy the relationship, and even if she did, I doubt that familial connections would factor into her prejudice. One of Helene’s more appealing qualities is her complete lack of respect for societal taboos.”

Yeah, he’d noticed. Trace concentrated on not squeezing the cell phone hard enough to shatter it. “I see.”

“Do you? Then let’s just say it’ll be simpler if you do the honors.” Murray paused before saying with a hint of menace, “You don’t object to that plan, do you?”

Shooting for world-weariness, Trace asked, “Are we talking seduction, coercion or rape?” Priss perked up even more at that. Her green eyes steeled with indignation—directed at him.

But Trace also saw a hint of fear that washed some of the color from her face. Not much had shaken her so far, so what had done it this time?

The idea of being forced?

With his guts burning, he wondered if Priss had firsthand knowledge of such a thing.

He wanted to hold her, to reassure her…but hell if he would. A little fear was just what Priss needed to drive home the jeopardy and wake her up to the foolishness of her plan.

Murray laughed at Trace’s question. “Since I’m making it your job, do you have a preference?”

Closing his eyes against Priss’s expression, Trace shrugged. “I’m not a natural-born ra**st, but it’s your show, your call.”

His deference delighted Murray. “I like your attitude, Trace, I really do. You have great conviction to the duty of your post. I’m glad I hired you.” His laughter faded. “Let’s go with seduction first. After all, Helene assures me that for you, seduction should be a piece of cake.”

Trace snorted. “Is she trying to get me killed, then?” What the f**k was Hell doing discussing him like that with Murray?

Murray laughed again. “Now Trace, you know I’m not the jealous sort. I have no reason to be, right?”

“No reason at all.”

“I like to indulge Helene whenever possible.”

Which meant…what? That Helene could have him?

With the game wearing on him, Trace rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You’re generous with her.”

“I don’t mind her admiring eye. It’s often valuable to me. Just remember that my generosity has a limit.”

“Always.”

“So…I may assume that this new assignment won’t cause you any trouble, whether little Priscilla is truly an innocent or not.”

“No trouble at all.”

“Excellent.” Murray’s words reeked of arrogance. “Keep me informed.”

“Of course.” Even as Trace closed the phone, he heard Murray’s humorless laughter, and it left him on edge.

The sick bastard was up to something—but what? And how much damage would it do to Priss?

CHAPTER SIX

IT DIDN’T SURPRISE Trace when Priss jumped up to confront him. “What was that about?” Dread left her pale and angry. “Why were you talking about rape? What are you planning? What is he planning?”

Trace studied her face. Without makeup, her long hair rumpled and hanging in tangles, she was still so damn sexy that he had to fight to keep his body from reacting.

Again.

He wanted to protect her, to soothe her, and he wanted to be inside her. Right now.

Through the oversize T-shirt she’d worn as a nightgown, he could see the generous swell of her br**sts, and even the outline of her soft ni**les. From the jut of that stupendous rack, the shirt dropped over a flat belly down to rounded, shapely thighs. She was so small boned, Trace thought, her wrists and ankles fragile, feminine.

“Trace,” she warned, as if she had any leverage against him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“All right.” He closed the small space between them. “Seems you and Daddy Dearest have a few things in common.”

She breathed too hard, too fast. “What are you talking about? I have nothing in common with that pig.”

Trace lifted a hand and smoothed the backs of his fingers over her velvety cheek. And even that, such a simple touch, roused him, sent his temperature up and his voice down. “Murray thinks I should f**k you.”

Falling back a step, Priss blinked at him. “What?”

Never had a woman looked so shocked—or so sexy. “That’s where our morning conversation was headed, right? You were eating me up with your eyes, talking about sex and virgins, deliberately prodding my curiosity.” He opened his hand to cup her jaw. “Well, you know what, Priss? I’m beginning to think you’re both onto something. Maybe that’s the natural course we’re due to take.”

Her tongue slipped over her upper lip. “Sex?”

Damn, did she have to sound both fearful and hopeful? “What do you think?”

Her expression changed, her breathing deepened even more. She shook her head, but Trace ignored the insubstantial denial.

“Come here, Priss.” And with that, he pulled her softness against his harder body. She was pliant, but unsure. So warm and rounded in all the right places.