by Cassie Miles
“He won’t talk.”
“How can you be sure?”
“He’s my brother.”
At the corner, they separated. Nicco walked alone on the relatively deserted city street. On a Saturday, Saint Patrick’s Day, the masses were elsewhere. Yet, Nicco could smell their sweat, their filth. He longed for solitude, for a place where no one would bother him. When this was over, he would seek quietude. Perhaps on an island. This would be his last mission.
ON THE TAXI RIDE to Natalie’s condo, Quint maintained a bodyguard’s natural vigilance—watching out for the people who were undoubtedly watching them. He assumed there was surveillance from the terrorists. Plus, he had backup. Other agents from other national security organizations, including the FBI, were tailing Natalie and Quint in the hope that they could get a lead on the wrongdoers. It was a regular web of deception.
Though there was a strong probability after his rescue of Natalie on horseback that the terrorists had pegged Quint as an agent, his assignment was basically unchanged. Still undercover, Quint played the role of a visiting Quantum supplier who had a crush on the vice president in charge of public relations. There was, however, a major development in his story: Natalie was supposed to like him back.
For now, they were posing as a couple. He glanced at her profile. Even when she was disheveled and shoeless, Natalie looked too sophisticated to fall for a dusty cowpoke from Midland, Texas. Feeling like a very lucky man, he grinned. “Do you think anybody’s going to really believe we’re dating?”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
When she tilted back her head to gaze up at him, her neck arched so gracefully that he couldn’t keep himself from touching her. Gently, he traced the line of her throat.
She caught hold of his hand. Instead of pushing him away, she raised his hand to her lips and lightly kissed his calloused palm. She said, “Zahir didn’t seem to have a problem with the concept that you and I might be a couple.”
The prince seemed like a very strange confidant. Most women chatted to a girlfriend. “When did you talk about us to Zahir?” he asked.
“You remember,” she said. “It was this morning before we left for the parade. When he invited me to dinner, he told me that you had a crush on me.”
“But he’s only seen us together once. At the reception. And we weren’t particularly lovey-dovey at that time.”
A tiny adorable frown twisted the corner of her lips. “I don’t know where he got the idea that we were having a relationship.”
“Gordon Doeller,” Quint said. “I bumped into him at the hotel, and I might have mentioned that I thought you were cuter than a newborn foal.”
She was suddenly alert. “Quint, this means Gordon had a private conversation with Zahir. Like Whitney said, they have a relationship outside of regular Quantum business.”
“It’s just gossip.” But Gordon had made a point of bumping into Quint and probing his background. It seemed likely that he’d been working to gather information for Zahir. “I wouldn’t call this proof.”
“Nonetheless, this is significant,” she said. “We should contact Whitney and tell her. Then she can focus on Zahir and stop worrying about the Solar Sons.”
“It’s better to investigate all leads,” he said.
“I can’t imagine anything useful will be discovered by Law Davies.”
She said his name with a snarl, which made Quint wonder about Natalie’s personal history with the Petrol attorney. “You don’t like Lawson.”
“He dumped my sister. The creep.” Her little frown deepened. “I don’t want to think the Solar Sons are anything more than an overly zealous eco-cult. Caroline really respects Greely.”
Quint wished he could reassure her that her sister was fine. It must be hard for Natalie to have a sister who had given her loyalty to the foes of Quantum Industries.
Hoping to distract her, he returned to an earlier topic. “We’re going to have to work on our cover story. I’m not the type of guy you usually date.”
“You’re right. I tend to get involved with professional men who wear three-thousand-dollar suits, drive Jaguars and eat Brie.” She laughed. Her green eyes flashed. “Obviously, those men haven’t worked out very well for me.”
“Why not?”
“They’re too much in love with themselves to notice I’m around.”
He couldn’t believe that. “Any red-blooded American male who could overlook your assets has got to be gay.”
“Possibly, it’s my fault that relationships don’t work,” she said. “I’m a very high-maintenance woman.”
“High-maintenance? What’s that mean?”
“I require a lot of attention. I’m demanding and never settle for second best. I hate being bored. And, as you know, I require total honesty.”
Quint had never given much thought to the inner workings of his relationships with women. Or men. Or horses, for that matter. He relied on his instincts. Either it was right or it wasn’t.
“Given all this maintenance, what does the man get in return?”
She leaned so close to his ear that her breath tickled when she whispered, “I’ll show you tonight.”
He kept his voice calm as he said, “Fair enough.”
Inside his chest, his heart danced with anticipation. Tonight he would share her bed. It seemed too good to be true. Quint had never expected a second chance at love.
When they reached her building, the doorman turned over Quint’s suitcase and his guitar case, both of which had been delivered from his hotel. Though Quint pressed a five-dollar tip in the man’s hand, he carried the luggage himself. Natalie was already toting the laptop from Solutions.
At the door to her condo, Quint entered first. Now fully armed, he pulled his Glock automatic from his shoulder holster and went from room to room, searching. Nothing appeared to have been touched or tampered with.
While Natalie set up the computer on the kitchen table to send a traceable e-mail to Caroline’s laptop, he swept again for bugs. This time, he found one in his suitcase. He held up the small metal disk for Natalie to see.
She mouthed the words, A bug?
He nodded and signaled for her to follow him into the bathroom where he flushed the object and waved bye-bye. “I reckon the hotel security wasn’t so hot.”
“Are there others?” she asked.
“I think we’re safe.”
“No one can hear us,” she said.
“Not unless we’re real noisy.” The thought appealed to him. “It might be good for our cover story if you did some loud moaning in the bedroom.”
“Like this?” She braced her hands on the edge of the marble sink, arched her spine, threw back her head and loudly groaned, “Oh, baby! Oh, yes!”
Though she was only teasing, her pose reflected double in the bathroom mirror and aroused him.
She closed her eyes. “Baby, don’t stop. Oooh.”
He came up behind her and fitted his body against her delectable backside. His hands glided under her arms and cupped her breasts. With the tip of his index finger, he teased her nipples hard.
Her eyelids snapped open. Staring at their reflection in the mirror, she gasped. For real.
He murmured, “You won’t have to fake it with me.”
She wriggled, making a halfhearted attempt to get free, and he pressed more firmly against her, wanting her to feel his hardness.
In the mirror, he saw her eyes begin to glaze over. He felt her melting.
“You’re pretty sure of yourself,” she said.
“Just stating the facts, ma’am.” He nuzzled beneath the silky brown hair at the nape of her neck.
“Do you like your women to be loud in bed?”
His gaze lifted and met hers in the mirror. Right now he didn’t want to think about any other woman. No other lover would be like Natalie. “I want you to be yourself.”
“Then, I need to take a shower.”
He groaned. “Another shower?”
“Sorry, Quint. It seems like I’m always running off to the shower, but attempted kidnappings are dirty work. And, possibly, I’m a bit of a neat freak.”
“Definitely a neat freak.”
This time, when she pushed away from the sink, he stepped back.
She looked up at him. “I’m worth it.”
“I expect you are.”
Paula had often said the same thing: I’m worth it. Though Natalie hadn’t meant to summon the ghost of his dead wife, Quint couldn’t help thinking about her. They’d had a great sex life, and he’d never expected to find such intense fulfillment again. “Go ahead,” he said.
“You could use the shower in the other bathroom,” she suggested.
“Sure.”
He turned on his heel and left her alone in the bathroom of the master suite. Paula had never minded making a mess. Some of their best lovemaking had been in the barn at his ranch. Her memory followed him into the guest bathroom, where he peeled off his clothes and ducked under the hot steaming water of the shower.
As he lathered his hands, he noticed the gleam of the ring he’d worn since Paula’s death, a symbol of his devotion. During the past two years, he hadn’t been one-hundred-percent true to her memory. He’d had sex a couple of times, but those occasions hadn’t been particularly satisfying or personal. He was just scratching an itch with a partner who didn’t expect to see him in the morning. Natalie was different.
He had real feelings for her. With her bravery, she’d earned his admiration. Her vulnerability had touched his heart. Paula would’ve liked her. Paula would approve of Quint finding someone he might be able to love. Damn it, she wouldn’t want him to end up a withered, bitter, old hermit at age thirty-five. But was he ready to make this move?
It wasn’t fair to Natalie for him to make love without the possibility of a real relationship. He lathered his chest hair and rinsed. Natalie deserved a man who would treat her right.
He could be that man. He wanted to be the one.
Leaving the shower, he dried himself off. Thinking about relationships made him confused. He should act on his gut feelings, and his instincts were telling him that Natalie might be the woman who would change his life.
He wrapped a towel around his waist. He needed to make a decision.
Slowly, he eased the gold-and-silver wedding ring off his finger.
Chapter Nine
After her shower, Natalie lingered in the bathroom. Gingerly, she checked her body for injuries. Both knees were bruised, as was her left upper arm where the man with the mustache had held her. Somewhere in her struggles, she’d picked up a light scratch below her cheekbone.
As the overhead fan in her bathroom sucked the steam from the air, she viewed her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t look too much the worse for wear after her ordeal this afternoon. To be completely honest, her appearance had improved.
Her spine had straightened. Her chin had lifted. Her gaze was direct and proud. She’d been attacked and had survived, which somehow made her less fearful than facing unexplained threats and senseless terrorism. Though she didn’t know the enemy, she knew the truth. She was, in fact, a target. Someone had set out to terrorize her. However, more importantly, she wasn’t alone, fighting shadows in the night. Natalie had a bodyguard.
Her cowboy. As she dusted herself with a light talcum mist, she considered the sheer irony of her attraction to him. Definitely not the type of man she usually dated. Definitely…he was better. Strong, brave and undeniably masculine, Quint never ceased to amaze her. Today, he’d been incredible when he took charge in her rescue. He was James Bond in a Stetson.
Somewhere between blow-drying her hair and applying lip gloss, Natalie realized that she wanted a serious relationship with him. She didn’t want to go to bed with him if this was just a passing fling.
Was a serious relationship possible?
First, she had to take their geographic problems into account. She was based in Chicago. He was in Texas. She wrapped herself in a silky, thigh-length black robe and pulled the sash tight around her waist. Working out the logistics of a long-distance romance was doable. She rather liked the idea of spending time on his ranch. Riding the range at his side. At night, they would count the stars. In the morning, she’d brew espresso and serve him on a table decorated with a fresh-picked bouquet of wildflowers. No more grits and gravy for him. With Natalie in the kitchen, the menu would change. Chuckling to herself, she imagined how he’d complain about the switch from beef to tofu. They’d work it out. Distance wasn’t really a problem for their potential relationship.
What about his undercover work with the Confidential outfit? She didn’t like to think of Quint being in constant danger. Not unless she was right there at his side. Like Whitney and Vincent. That could work.
Facing the door that led from the bathroom to the bedroom, Natalie confronted the real issue, the major obstacle to a relationship, the knockout punch. Was Quint ready for a relationship with her? Or had all his love been consumed by his first wife? He still remembered Paula. When he spoke of her, there was an ache in his voice. He wasn’t over Paula, possibly he never would be. And where did that leave Natalie? She hated being second best, competing with a ghost who would always be perfect in his memory.
Could he ever truly love Natalie?
Still unsure, she turned off the fan in the bathroom. From the bedroom, she heard music. Natalie opened the door.
Quint sat on the edge of her bed, wearing a towel round his waist and nothing else. On his lap, he held his twelve-string guitar.
When he looked up at her and grinned, she realized she’d never seen a more sexy, handsome man. His thick brown hair fell rakishly across his tanned forehead, and his blue eyes shone with a warm, welcoming light. His shoulders were broad and well muscled from working outside. His splayed legs were long and lean.
He struck a few chords and began playing, “When Irish Eyes are Smiling.” When he sang, his rich tenor vibrated through her.
She’d meant to discuss their relationship with him, but he’d taken her breath away with his tender serenade.
“Did you like that?” he asked.
She nodded dumbly.
“I didn’t think you were a country-western gal,” he said. “Let me try this.”
He picked out the opening notes to “Greensleeves,” then segued into a more intricate version. Mesmerized, she stared as his fingers plucked and strummed the delicate melody. His left hand slid up and down the neck of the guitar, changing chords.
There was something different about him, about his hand. Then, she saw it. He wasn’t wearing the wedding ring. Tonight, there would be no memories. No ghosts. By taking off his ring, he’d made a commitment to Natalie. Tonight, he would be hers alone.
She snuggled up beside him on the bed. “Put the guitar away, cowboy.”
“Thought you’d never ask.” He set his instrument aside.
Then his skillful fingers loosened the sash on her robe. As he slipped the black silk from her shoulders, his blue eyes regarded her reverently, as though her body was more than mere flesh. She felt like a magnificent sculpture.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
Masterfully, he played her with gentle caresses and sweet attention to every sensitive inch of her body. His kisses were light at first, then harder and more demanding.
Natalie abandoned herself to his sensual challenges. She matched his rising passion, touch for touch. Wanting to be part of him, needing to be possessed by him, she stretched the length of her body against his. He kissed her hard.
They tangled in a passionate embrace, clinging to each other with all their strength. They rolled across her four-poster bed, tearing apart the bedclothes and the sheets.
Gasping, she found herself lying on top of him as though she’d been washed ashore by tumultuous waves. She sat astride his naked torso, looking down on him, catching her breath. He was perfect. The perfect man. Her buttocks pressed against his hard arousal. He raised his kn
ees, and she leaned back against them, displaying herself. He pushed up on his elbows and watched her with fire in his laser-blue eyes.
Before she was fully aware of what had happened, he had turned her over and pinned her flat on the sheets. He rose above her and entered. With slow, hard thrusts, he drove her toward fulfillment. Shuddering, she groaned. No need for faking. This was the real thing.
Her self-control disassembled. She’d never felt such a mind-numbing burst of sheer animal lust. Caught in a frenzy, she rocked back and forth, clutched at his shoulders, clawed at his back. And then…
Spasms of deep, perfect pleasure reverberated through her in a widening echo, leaving her tingling and at peace.
She lay beside him, breathing deeply as the tremors subsided. “You didn’t lie.”
“About what?” he asked.
“When you said I wouldn’t have to fake it.” A soft smile spread across her face. It felt like her whole body was smiling. “You weren’t lying.”
“You’re an amazing woman, Natalie.” He leaned over and nuzzled behind her ear. “You’re the best.”
But am I number one? Will I ever be number one?
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wanted to hear those three little words. I love you. But it was too soon. Forgetting any other question, she cuddled against his chest and wished she could stay in this moment forever.
ON SUNDAY NIGHT, it was a very different Natalie Van Buren who strolled into the five-star restaurant for her scheduled dinner with Prince Zahir. After a full night and day of lovemaking with Quint, she knew that she was glowing more brightly than a ton of uranium.
Quint had chosen the dress that she wore beneath her simple black blazer. It was a sleeveless, rayon sheath in royal blue, detailed in black. She’d never had the nerve to wear the dress before because the neckline showed a positively decadent amount of cleavage.
Quint guided her across the restaurant to the table where Zahir was waiting with two fawning female companions. The prince stood, separated himself from the other women and took her hand. The animal in him responded to Natalie’s radiant physicality. Avidly, his dark eyes searched her face, looking for a hint that she might be sexually available to him.
