by Leah Braemel
When the Humvee pulled into the garage, he got his first good look at her in the light. There were a few more lines on her face than there had been, no surprise, though fewer than on his. Her hair was longer than it had been last time he’d seen her. Damn it, why was he so turned on by the thought of threading his fingers through her hair, holding her in place while she…Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Focus on the mission, not on her sucking your dick, you fucking idiot!
So much for maintaining any sort of balance. Thank God Troy had said he’d hang around a few days.
Chad led her through the kitchen, introducing her to the couple who took care of the place throughout the year. He’d been here before, for visits and training exercises, so he stood back and watched her. Despite the circles under her eyes, she took the time to greet each of the agents who would be guarding her.
Damn, she looked sexy in that totally oblivious I’m-all-business manner. No one else knew the body hidden beneath that demure white cotton blouse and navy blue slacks. No one else knew the passion and the heat waiting to be released when Lauren let go of her inhibitions. No one else here would know, he corrected himself.
As he stood back waiting, he caught Walters slanting him a glance from time to time. Did Andy know Lauren was his ex-wife and now wondered why he hadn’t removed himself as lead op? Some great example he was setting to his agents, wasn’t he?
Or was Andy attracted to her and wondered if Chad might be jealous if he put a move on her? The little green-eyed monster he thought he’d conquered long ago flared into a dragon that filled the room.
After shooting Andy a narrow glance, Chad grasped Lauren’s elbow. “You must be tired. Let me show you your room.”
The second he touched her again his whole body reacted as if he’d grabbed a thousand-volt electrical wire—the same sensation he’d had that first night he’d escorted her at the bar. The same way it had each time he’d touched her every day they were married.
“There’s an indoor pool, a work-out room, all the comforts of your standard mansion.” He’d originally planned to show her them all tonight, but damn it all, he needed distance between them or she’d find herself plastered against the wall, her slacks on the floor at her ankles, her pussy glistening as he buried his cock deep within her.
He pushed open the door to the main bedroom and stood aside, letting her enter first. “I’ll show you the rest of the place in the morning.”
“No debriefing? Isn’t that Hauberk standard operating procedure?”
From the circles beneath her eyes and the heaviness of her lids, she was about to drop. He could have her horizontal in three seconds flat but she wouldn’t sleep until he was finished. Damn it! Focus! “Sam’s got a team working on it. We’re safe enough for tonight that we can wait another few hours before we start down that path.”
If he had his way, he’d continue the investigation. Until she told him where she’d gone after she’d dropped from his information nets keeping track of her six years ago. Until she told him why she’d done what she’d done years before. Said what she’d said. And not said what he’d needed her to say. I love you, like he’d said to her picture a thousand times that first day and the following weeks, followed by why?
The pain from coming home that afternoon to discover she’d moved out washed over him. Not in the tidal wave that had once engulfed him. No, time had changed the grief and heartbreak into an acid wash that corroded his honor, his dignity. Having her standing here, so close, captive to his questioning challenged his control.
If he gave into that need, the desire to break her down, he’d never be able to face himself in a mirror again. Those tactics were for the other side.
The bed looming too large in his imagination, he stayed in the middle of the room and let her explore for herself. She opened the closets, frowning as she examined the various track suits, T-shirts and khakis.
Her frown deepened as she fingered a black leather quilted vest. “This is all bullet proof, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” They’d protect her from close arm fire. Or a sniper. As long as it wasn’t a head shot. “For the duration of your stay here, those are the only clothes you’ll wear.”
“They must have cost Sam a small fortune.”
He forced his jaw to unlock. Obviously time hadn’t softened her opinion of Sam. “Don’t worry about that. Hauberk’s doing quite well, in case you haven’t heard.”
After releasing a slow breath, Lauren nodded. “I wasn’t trying to be argumentative. I’m proud of what you’ve build Hauberk up to be. I’m glad you found somewhere to keep you challenged.”
Not enough to come back to him. Or even pick up the phone and call him.
She carefully closed the closet door and walked to the window. Probably trying to figure out where she was, he’d wager. In the morning, she may figure out which state they were in. It didn’t matter if she knew where they were or not. What mattered was that no one else discovered their location.
“Did you mean what you said to Troy?” she asked after a long moment had passed. “About blaming yourself if anything happened to me?”
“Yes.” I worry about everything when it comes to you.
He shut the drape she’d opened, aware he was closing them in completely from prying eyes, aware of the closed door to the hall, how she stood less than a foot away from him, and the massive bed behind her. The subtle fragrance of her perfume tickled his nose. It was the perfume he’d bought her for her birthday the first year they’d been together.
The dark urges, the ones he’d denied for so long, reared up, sending a finger of flame down his spine. His cock hardened, and his balls drew close to his body as his imagination exploded. He wanted to strip her naked and tie her to the bed, leaving her spread eagled and vulnerable. He’d reclaim every inch of her, make a meal of her before spreading her thighs and reminding her who had made her come. Then he’d flip her onto her stomach and take her anally too. And when they were all done, she’d admit she’d never had another lover satisfy her like he could.
What if she had?
Maybe Lauren sensed his thoughts; more likely she’d noticed his burgeoning hard-on, because she stepped away from him. “Are you worried someone might be watching us with a high-powered scope?”
In truth, he wasn’t worried about a sniper. She could see how the lights penetrated her linen skirt, how they outlined her trim legs and the V they formed. That the men patrolling the grounds might see her silhouette and have their own fantasies annoyed him no end. “The windows are certified bulletproof, but I’d prefer not to give them a target.”
Goddamn it, how many times did they lecture the newbies about maintaining distance and yet here he was, the “I want to fuck you, who cares about anything out there that might put you in danger” poster child.
“Guess that means my five-mile run is off the agenda in the morning?”
His brain dredged up a memory of one of their jogs during their honeymoon. Halfway through their run, Lauren had pointed out a field filled with clover and daisies, bees lazily buzzing from blossom to blossom around them. He’d dragged her into the thigh-high grasses, the thickness of the clover hiding them as he’d undressed her, made love to her. The field echoed with her laughter when he’d plucked a daisy and tickled her with it. Her smile had been brighter than the sun, the sheen of sweat glistening on her skin after he’d rolled off her still made his heart quicken. Finding a field was out of the question, but there was a gazebo overlooking the pond in the valley. If he remembered correctly there was a sofa bed that would cushion them nicely.
Why did he keep imagining them together again? She’d divorced him. Moved out. Moved on.
He stomped the fantasy of them getting back together, even for the night, under his heel. “There’s a treadmill in the weight room you can use.”
She stopped at the side of the bed, her fingers trailing over the hand-made quilt. She could probably tell him what type it was—the styles all had names like wedding ring or
log cabin, but damned if he could tell one from the other. All that mattered to him was that it would keep her warm. Pity no one made the damned things with a layer of Kevlar. Maybe then he’d sleep easier.
“Where are you sleeping?”
Part of him wanted to answer “I’m sleeping in that bed right beside you, just like your husband should,” but that part of their marriage had ended even before she’d walked out the door. He shoved his emotions aside. If she wanted a business-like relationship, that’s what he’d give her. Tonight. After that the gloves came off.
He stalked to the connecting door and wrenched it open. “I’ll be in here. The rest of the team are scattered about the various floors.”
Her expression didn’t change, her shoulders didn’t relax. Did she wish he were sleeping on a different floor? Maybe he should change rooms with Andy or Troy. Distance between them might make this assignment more bearable.
“There are snipers with infrared goggles on the roof, a small platoon of armed guards patrolling the perimeter of the estate, along with a dozen attack dogs protecting the grounds.” He kept his voice even, flat. Unemotional. The complete opposite of the needs clawing his guts. “The house has the latest in security—infrared and motion detectors. The doors and windows are wired, and of course you’ve noticed the cameras in all the main areas. If you want to leave the room tonight, come get me first and I’ll give the detail a heads-up that you’re on the move.” And accompany her anywhere she went.
“Afraid I might be mistaken for an intruder?” From the amusement in her voice, she wasn’t taking this threat seriously. Damn it. She’d know that despite the precautions they’d taken, there was always a possibility their security could be breached.
“Let me know if you leave the room.” He pointed to the button on the side of the night table. “Until we get you set up with a personal panic button, press this to summon the troops if there’s any trouble. There’s another one in the bathroom, as well as in the closet. Any one of them will set off the alarm and bring the whole team running.”
She nodded her head in approval. Her fingers stroked the damned quilt, though he wondered if she was aware of what she was doing.
“Turn this and it’ll give you access to your panic room.” He turned the center of a rose carved into the mantel. A panel beside the fireplace sprang open revealing a small dark area no bigger than the closet.
She walked closer to examine the tiny room. “Is that a fireman’s pole?”
He nodded, unable to stop focusing on how her lips were parted in amusement, soft and plump, glistening with traces of her lip gloss. Kissable.
Focus on the mission, not your goddamned dick. Damn it, she was his principal. She was in danger and needed him focused on her protection.
Why the hell had he let Sam talk him into accepting this assignment? He should leave, let Troy take over the job; he was staying anyway. Except he couldn’t walk away. Not now. Not when there was a chance she might finally answer his questions.
He struggled to keep his tone even. “It leads to a room in the basement. It has its own air supply, first aid supplies, encrypted radio to head office, a direct line to the local police, as well as enough food and water for a month.”
“Sounds more like a bomb shelter.”
“It’s that as well. There’s a twenty-foot drop straight down, so make sure you’ve got a good grasp on the pole before you step off. Tomorrow we’ll do a practice run.”
Chapter Five
He was so cold, so controlled. The struggle to keep her disappointment from showing challenged Lauren. Did he not feel anything for her anymore? Did he have none of the desire, none of the need that had tied them together? The desire that had flared inside her, setting her body aglow as soon as she’d seen him? The need for him hadn’t lessened over the years. If anything, he was more attractive than he’d been before. She’d always found a man with just a hint of silver at his temples sexy.
How could she get him to stay? To listen to her with an open mind?
She took a step closer. Please don’t let him leave. Don’t let him close the door between our rooms and shut me out completely.
She toyed with the buttons of her blouse. She’d left the top two undone out of habit, but now she toyed with the next one, undoing it, then the next. The fabric parted just enough to show the lace of her chemise. He’d always preferred the fantasy of wondering what was beneath, letting his imagination take over. “Thank you for volunteering to guard me. I was surprised when they said you’d be the lead op.”
She had been surprised, she realized. She’d been half expecting them to call the whole thing off. Fear that she’d screw things up even more and lose any chance for a reconciliation set in, leaving her frozen deep into her bones.
“I should go.” His voice was rough but at least he hadn’t moved.
“Please don’t.” She touched his forearm, letting her fingers rest on him. Heat rose through his cotton shirt, warming her. He was leaner than he’d been. Different. Yet the same. “I don’t think I could get to sleep, not after that helicopter ride.”
His gaze dropped to her fingers, a frown creasing his forehead. “I’d forgotten you don’t like riding in helicopters. Was the flight bad?”
“It could have been better.” You could have been with me. “There was a bit of turbulence coming over the hills.” Or were they mountains? She still hadn’t decided. “I haven’t had much to eat. Maybe we could find the kitchen, rustle up a sandwich. Talk.” About so many things she didn’t know where to start. An explanation for why she’d left? For not contacting him? Or even where she’d been and what she’d been doing? Except neither of those were possible thanks to the Brigade’s rigid secrecy agreement.
“I’ll call the kitchen and ask if they can bring something up for you. As for talking…” He scrubbed his face with his hands, breaking her contact with him. “We can talk tomorrow when we’re both fresh.” He made touching him impossible by walking to the door and standing inside his room. “When we’ve both had a chance to sleep on things.”
“Stay. I don’t want to be alone tonight.” Like she’d been for so long.
If she’d had any question he could still love her, the look he gave her removed any doubt. There was no trace of the predator on the hunt he’d had when they were first dating or even five minutes ago, the dominant man determined to win her. This look spoke of the depth of his love and longing. His voice, though controlled, revealed his pain and need even though it was barely above a whisper, husky as if he’d been screaming all night. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I do.” She walked toward him, trying to be quiet, desperate not to give in to the urge to fall at his feet and prove herself to him. If she did, he might react like a wounded animal. One that could turn on her and rip her limb from limb.
No doubts tonight, she told herself, afraid to speak out loud, afraid of breaking whatever force was holding them together. She undid the remaining buttons, tugged her blouse from her slacks and let it drop from her shoulders onto the floor.
His gaze dropped to the lace of her chemise where her nipples had hardened. He’d always loved her breasts, loved touching them, cupping them, kissing them. She debated pulling the chemise over her head, letting him view them unencumbered but decided the peep show might be more provocative. It felt strange to be deliberately leading him on, to have to seduce him. She shimmied out of her slacks and stepped out of them, leaving them in a heap on the floor beside her blouse. Seconds later, her thong rested on top of the pile.
One moment he was clutching the door frame, the next moment she was flattened against it, his thigh between her legs, holding her in place. His voice rasped as he asked, “What’s your game, Lauren?”
“I’m not playing a game, Chad.” Just doing a lousy job of seducing you.
He closed his eyes for just a second before meeting her gaze again. “So it’s just sex you’re looking for? You want to fuck and that’s it? Like an itch
you want to scratch?”
We cared more about fucking than making sure Emily didn’t die, a tiny voice in the back of her head nagged. A voice she thought she’d long since banished. “I miss you. I miss us.”
His lips hovered centimeters above hers, his breath warm on her cheek, his eyes locked on her mouth. She expected him to lean down, to take charge, to kiss her. But he didn’t. Instead he held himself in check with a rigid control, as if he were fighting a battle. And winning.
“I don’t want just one night, Lauren. I want it all back again—us, the way we were. We both know that’s not going to happen.”
All her doubts crumbled into dust. He wanted her still. “We don’t know that.”
She tilted her chin and closed the distance between them until her lips brushed his. He didn’t move, letting her tongue slide against the seam joining them but not allowing her entry. She wouldn’t beg but if he wouldn’t accept her kiss, she’d find another way past his defenses.
Her hands flattened over his chest, seeking his shirt buttons. He didn’t move as she undid them one by one. His stomach muscles tensed when she parted the opening of his shirt and touched bare skin. She affected him, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. She was so close. If she could just convince him to let go, to give her a chance…she traced the curve of his stomach, up to his pectorals. Love me. Please.
As if she’d touched a switch, his body shuddered beneath her fingers. He drew a deep breath, then his lips captured hers, taking command of the kiss. His tongue swept over her lips as if he were sampling her, preparing to feast upon her. He adjusted the angle of his head; his chin rasped over hers, the heat of the razor burn rousing a lingering reminder of their lovemaking long ago.
This was what she’d remembered, what she’d dreamed of all these years. Wanted. Needed.
Yet he hadn’t touched her with anything but his mouth. She wanted his hands on her, all over her, every inch of his body touching hers. His chest, his stomach, his hips. More than the hard length of his thigh holding her in place.
