by Elle Kennedy
Rebecca gasped against his mouth. Her legs buckled as pleasure crashed into her, but Nick swiftly steadied her by clasping her waist and pulling her even closer. Her body melted into his, her breasts plastered against his rock-hard chest.
His tongue was greedy, demanding, licking its way into her mouth and robbing her of breath. Lord, the man could kiss.
He slanted his head to deepen the contact and when their tongues touched, he made a husky sound of approval deep in his throat and his fingers slid down to cup her bottom. He squeezed, devouring her mouth with his tongue as he ground his pelvis into the cradle of her thighs.
Moaning, Rebecca clung to his broad shoulders, her fingernails clutching the sleeves of his T-shirt. This wasn’t how she’d imagined it to be. Nick was so reserved, so polite that she’d assumed she’d be the one in control if they ever surrendered to the attraction that had been brewing between them since they’d met.
But the control was all his. She was helpless, giddy, consumed with arousal that burned between her legs and coursed through her body.
When Nick finally tore his mouth away, she actually whimpered in disappointment.
They were both breathing hard, and she could see his pulse throbbing in the hollow of his throat.
Rebecca swallowed, still stunned by the dominating nature of that mind-blowing kiss. “That wasn’t a seduction attempt,” she said in a wobbly voice. “I was only trying to offer some comfort.”
“I know,” he said thickly.
Her heart refused to stop pounding. “I...”
I want to do that again.
But she couldn’t voice the thought. The passion in Nick’s gorgeous eyes was beginning to dim, the glaze of lust reverting to that flicker of sadness.
“Rebecca,” he started, and she knew he was about to apologize for the kiss.
To tell her it couldn’t happen again.
Refusing to give him the chance, she pasted on a smile and said, “Come on, let’s go feed our hostage.”
* * *
The federal agents Brent Davidson had sent arrived mid-afternoon and promptly took Paul Waverly off Rebecca’s and Nick’s hands. She appreciated that neither agent attempted to strong-arm them into coming back to the States aboard the DoD jet. The two men didn’t comment on her presence either, although one of them did confess to being a fan of hers.
By the time she and Nick returned to Javier’s airfield in their rented Jeep, it was nearly four o’clock. Fortunately, Manuel and the Cessna were already waiting in the hangar and they managed to get in the air shortly after.
Nick was quiet on the journey home, leaving Rebecca to her own devices during the two-hour flight to Miami. The memory of this morning’s kiss continued to echo in her mind like a seductive melody, and each time she glanced over at Nick’s stoic profile, she had to resist the urge to jump into his lap and kiss him again.
She didn’t quite understand why her hormones went on overload in Nick Barrett’s presence. The man was hardly her type with his whole gentleman vibe and his determination to keep her away from the action. She’d dated men like Nick in Atlanta, the traditional types, the ones who believed women belonged barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. Granted, Nick didn’t seem like a chauvinist, but she knew he didn’t particularly approve of the way she placed herself in danger’s path.
But her job was dangerous at times. There was nothing she could do about that, short of quitting, and she had no intention of giving up her career.
And boy, wasn’t she on a ridiculously premature train of thought?
Give up her career? She and Nick weren’t even dating, for Pete’s sake. They’d kissed. Once. And there probably wouldn’t be a follow-up if Nick had anything to say about it. So really, there was no reason for her to be thinking about all the ways she and Nick Barrett were incompatible.
It was just past six when they landed in Miami, and it took another hour for Nick to secure a ride for them with the pilot of a cargo plane they encountered at yet another private airfield. As Nick handed over a stack of cash, Rebecca had to wonder just how much money the poor guy had spent this past year. All the charters, the weapons, the safe houses—it must have cost him a fortune.
On the other hand, when you came from Barrett oil and Prescott hotels, the word fortune probably held a slightly different meaning.
“Home, sweet home,” Nick mumbled when their journey finally came to an end.
Rebecca peered out the window of the small plane and gazed at the twinkling city lights down below. The sun had set a couple of hours ago, but she could still make out the Washington Monument and the silvery glow of the Capitol as the plane began its descent.
She had a love-hate relationship with D.C. On one hand, the city was rife with scandal, which was every journalist’s dream, but on the other hand, it was so hard not to become disillusioned in the face of all that corruption. Rebecca had lost her wide-eyed optimism years ago, and sometimes she missed that gung ho girl who’d believed that the truth always prevailed.
“Let me take your bag,” Nick said ten minutes later, after the plane had come to a stop on the runway.
Rebecca passed him the large tote bag she’d picked up at the marketplace in Costa Rica, shouldered her green canvas purse, then accepted his hand as he helped her out of the plane. A perfect gentleman, as always.
To her surprise, a taxi was waiting for them directly on the tarmac. “When did you arrange for a cab?” she asked.
“When you were lecturing Javier about sea turtles.” A ghost of a smile crossed his mouth.
Because smiles from Nick had been rare today, she welcomed the sight.
“Keep your head down as much as you can,” he added. “I don’t want the cabbie recognizing you.”
“Same goes for you,” she said wryly.
With Nick carrying their bags, they headed for the waiting cab and greeted their driver. Rebecca made a conscious effort to avert her eyes, casting her gaze downward and pretending to be fascinated with her dust-streaked hiking boots.
“Mr. and Mrs. Jones?” the Asian man inquired.
Nick nodded. “That’s us.”
As they slid into the backseat, Rebecca couldn’t fight the yawn that overtook her. It felt like they’d been on the move from the moment she’d met Nick in Cortega three days ago. She longed for about twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep.
And a shower. God, she wanted a shower. She felt grimy and gross, and her ponytail was greasy and kept sticking to her neck.
“You tired?” Nick said softly.
“Exhausted.”
He patted his shoulder. “You can lean on me if you want.”
Her heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d snuggled up next to a warm male body. A couple of years at least. Right. She’d been seeing Jonas back then, the last bad boy she’d had the misfortune of dating. She hadn’t gotten serious with anyone since then, although she had indulged in a weeklong affair last year with a lobbyist who turned out to be a complete jerk.
She really seemed to gravitate toward the jerks, didn’t she?
Except this time.
No, this time she’d found herself drawn to a man who was so far from a jerk, so ridiculously nice, that he was probably too good to be true.
Resting her head on Nick’s strong shoulder, she closed her eyes and tried not to overanalyze her feelings for this man.
She napped during the entire cab ride, and although she couldn’t be sure, she could have sworn she felt Nick’s lips brush the top of her head in a soft kiss before she dozed off.
When the car lurched to a stop about twenty minutes later, she jerked awake. Blinking rapidly, she turned to the window and saw that they’d arrived at a modest hotel not too far from Capitol Hill.
Nick quickly paid the cabbie and ushered Rebecca into the front lobby without giving her time to officially wake up. But she understood his haste. The two of them couldn’t risk being seen in public; they were too recognizable, and the last t
hing they wanted to do was alert Mr. X and his thugs that they were stateside.
When they approached the front desk, she discovered that Nick had already booked their room over the phone—also when she’d been talking sea turtles with Javier—so it took no time at all to check in and collect their room key card.
Room. Singular. As in one.
She knew that Nick had purposely booked it that way to maintain the pretense that they were “Mr. and Mrs. Jones,” but the delicious possibilities did not escape her as they rode the elevator to the second floor.
One room. One bed. Her and Nick.
All thoughts of seduction had been shoved to the back burner earlier, thanks to Waverly’s accusations about Nick’s father. But after that explosive kiss...well, she might have to forge ahead with that seduction plan. And conveniently, she had one hotel room at her disposal.
But first things first, they needed to find a way to reach Nick’s father without tipping off Mr. X.
Unless Nick’s father is Mr. X....
She banished the pessimistic notion, wishing for Nick’s sake that Waverly was dead wrong about Barrett’s role in the virus conspiracy.
“So how are we going to do this?” she asked as Nick dropped his duffel on the soft white carpet of their room. “Can we get a message to your dad somehow? Maybe through someone with access to the Pentagon?”
Nick flopped down on the edge of the king-size bed and pulled out his cell phone. “Or...I can just call him.”
Rebecca glared at him. “You can’t! What if his phone is bugged?”
“Trust me, it won’t be.”
Much to her horror, he was already dialing a number. Crap. Didn’t he realize that in Washington, everyone’s gee-dee phone was tapped?
“How do you know it’s safe?” she demanded.
“Because this isn’t a number anyone else knows about.” He rolled his eyes. “My dad is the secretary of defense, darling. He lives and breathes covert.”
As she watched, Nick pressed a sequence of numbers into the keypad.
And then he hung up.
“That’s it?” she said in confusion.
“That’s it,” he confirmed.
“So now what?”
“Now we wait.”
Rebecca shot him an exasperated look. “For how long?”
“Depends on what he’s doing, but it shouldn’t be long. It’s ten-thirty at night, so he’s either in his office or heading home. I doubt we caught him in the middle of a meeting, not unless the president requested a hush-hush powwow at the White House tonight.”
“Hey, as long as we’re waiting, do you think I should contact the network again? I haven’t been in touch since I called about Harry.”
Harry’s name got stuck in her throat, causing her heart to clench. She’d tried so hard not to think about him these past couple of days. Harry, Jesse, Dave... But the grief made a swift appearance now, and it took all her willpower to choke it down and raise that shield around her heart again.
“You can’t call anyone,” Nick answered in a stern voice. “Anyone connected to you will definitely have had their phones tapped.”
She sighed. “I wish I had a computer, at least then I could do some research. Or heck, even a pen and paper would be nice. I wouldn’t mind jotting down some of my thoughts about all this.”
When his gaze sharpened, she held up her hands in mock surrender. “Off the record,” she assured him. “I’m not planning on publishing or airing anything until this is over. I made you a promise, remember?”
“I remember, but it’s good to hear that you do, too.” He relaxed, then stiffened right back up when the phone in his hand buzzed.
Rebecca watched his expression transform from calm to nervous as he studied the display.
“It’s him,” Nick said gruffly.
The phone kept buzzing.
She eyed him expectantly. “Well, pick it up already.”
After a beat, he pressed a button and lifted the phone to his ear.
“Dad?”
The emotion thickening his voice brought a soft smile to Rebecca’s lips. God, she was a total sucker for men who were close with their parents. She loved her own folks to death, and she’d never understood people who didn’t appreciate the importance of family.
But Nick sounded so choked up that she felt like she was intruding on a private moment, so she ended up inching toward the bathroom doorway, needing to give him some privacy.
“I’m taking a shower,” she whispered.
He nodded. Didn’t even glance her way as he spoke into the phone again.
“Yeah, it’s me,” he said roughly. “I...hell, it’s been a long time, huh?”
That was the last thing Rebecca heard before she stepped into the bathroom. Her eyes were surprisingly damp, and she found herself praying that Kirk Barrett was the man his son believed him to be. Nick was such a good man, an honorable man. The last thing he deserved was to be saddled with a father who’d tried to have him killed.
She hurriedly stripped out of her dirty, sweaty clothes and nearly dived into the glass shower stall. The moment the hot water rushed out of the faucet and coursed down her naked body, she purred in pleasure and tipped her head into the spray.
She proceeded to spend the next thirty minutes scrubbing herself raw with the sweet-smelling hotel soap, washing her hair and shaving her legs and armpits with the complimentary razor she found on the ledge affixed to the tiled wall. By the time she stepped out of the shower, she felt like a new woman.
Grabbing a fluffy white towel from the rack on the wall, she dried off, then wrapped the terry cloth around her body and tucked the top in. She’d forgotten to bring a change of clothes into the washroom, which meant she had no choice but to walk out in the towel.
When she reentered the room, Nick was no longer on the phone, but sitting on the bed, lost in thought.
“Hey,” she said quietly.
His head lifted in an abrupt motion, as if he truly hadn’t realized she was standing there. His lack of vigilance said a lot about his state of mind.
“Hey,” he murmured.
“So what happened? What did he say?”
“A lot.”
The two-syllable response brought a rush of aggravation. “Um, care to elaborate?”
Nick let out a heavy breath. “He says he’s been trying to locate me ever since I went off the grid, and that he didn’t believe for a second I would be discharged and take off without a word. He suspected there was a conspiracy in play, but he had no idea what it could possibly be related to, at least not until news of the Meridian virus was made public.”
“So he didn’t know about the virus,” she said.
“Dad insists he didn’t. He thought my disappearance was related to an op, that I might have been a POW somewhere and the military was trying to cover it up.” Nick hesitated for a second. “We’re meeting in an hour. He has some business to wrap up, and then he’s leaving the Pentagon and coming to meet me.”
Rebecca’s voice went dry. “And let me guess, you want me to stay put.”
“No.” He cleared his throat. “I want you to come with me.”
Chapter 12
Nick didn’t blame Rebecca for looking so surprised. Since the day they’d met, he’d been demanding she stay behind, lie low, stay put—pretty much anything that involved keeping her out of the line of fire. And now here he was, actively seeking out her company for a potentially dangerous situation.
“You actually want me to come?”
Nick nodded.
Her green eyes flickered warily, as if she thought he might shout “Gotcha!” at any moment. “Um. Why?”
Helplessness squeezed his chest so hard his lungs hurt. “Remember that discussion we had in Mala about bias?”
“Yes...”
“Well, I am totally, categorically biased right now.” He stared at her in dismay. “This is my father. I believe with all my heart that he’s innocent, but...am I fooling myself her
e? Do I just want him to be innocent so damn bad that I’m unable to objectively examine the evidence?”
Sympathy softened her gaze. She moved closer, and he suddenly became aware that she wore nothing but a towel. Despite the misery tightening his throat, his traitorous body actually had the gall to respond to Rebecca’s scantily clad appearance. His groin stirred, thickened, throbbed. Pulse sped up. Mouth went dry.
“Then I’ll be the objective one,” Rebecca said in an earnest tone. “I have a talent for reading people and I can usually tell if someone is lying to me.”
“That’s why I want you to come along.”
She looked pleased, but then something shifted in her eyes and her chin lifted in perplexing determination.
“What is it?” he asked, unable to keep the suspicion from his tone.
“When do we have to meet him?”
“Midnight.”
She glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Nick followed her gaze and saw the red numerals change from 11:32 to 11:33.
“How long will it take to get there?”
“Five or ten minutes. Why?”
“So we have some time, then.”
His eyes narrowed. “To do what, darling?”
“To help you forget.”
There was nothing ambiguous about her quiet, candid words. He knew exactly what she was suggesting, what she was offering. Heat stirred in his lower body, spreading through him until he was painfully hard again, but the indecision that hit him was as powerful as the lust.
He didn’t do casual flings. He preferred there to be some emotion involved in his sexual encounters.
There is, a little voice pointed out. You feel something for her.
Nick tried to silence the voice, but it was too late. The thought had already cemented itself in his mind, and he couldn’t deny the truth. He did care about Rebecca. He cared a lot. Maybe even too much.
“No more thinking.”
Her stern voice penetrated his thoughts and snapped him back to the present. To the gorgeous redhead standing in front of him. In a towel. Just a little white towel...
Rebecca took a step closer. “I’m serious. I can see your brain conjuring up all the reasons why we shouldn’t do this. Well, let me make it easy for you, okay?”
