by Debra Webb
“Apparently,” Nicole finally murmured. Images, sounds, erotic and forbidden, flickered through the private theater of her mind. She and Ian, touching, tasting, reaching…
Nicole blinked away the prohibited fantasies. She hurriedly placed the lids back on the containers and shoved them under the bed.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Right, Nicole thought with self-disgust. She pushed to her feet, chocolates in hand, strode back to the sofa and plopped down on it. She set the box of chocolate on the cushion beside her, then crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the far wall. What was she supposed to do for the next forty-eight hours in this secluded cabin with nothing to distract herself from disaster?
At precisely that moment, Ian settled himself at the other end of the couch. Nicole darted an uncharitable glance in his direction. Burn, Baby Burn snagged her attention. Ian had the magazine, reading it…looking at it…whatever.
One dark brow lifted speculatively. “Interesting,” he noted aloud.
Nicole groaned inwardly. How would she ever survive this weekend surrounded by sex toys and “how to” guides for the sexually depraved?
Ian made a small sound of disbelief, then a slow, rich laugh drew Nicole’s reluctant gaze back to the lights and shadows of his angular face.
She was doomed.
Chapter Six
Ian came instantly awake.
He held perfectly still as he listened for the sound again. A board creaked, then the distinct sound of a footstep just outside the front door. Ian withdrew his gun from beneath his pillow, threw back the blanket, and sat up on the couch. He listened again. The knob turned with a definitive click, once, twice. Ian stood and moved silently across the room. He was halfway to the door when the mattress shifting alerted him to Nicole’s movement. His eyes already adjusted to the darkness, he saw her rise from the bed, weapon trained expertly on the threat. Ian waited until she moved closer to ensure that she understood when he indicated that she should move to the far side of the door. Soundlessly she glided into a position where the opening door would provide cover from immediate danger.
Anticipation pounding through his veins, Ian flattened against the wall at the same instant that the knob turned again and the door swung inward.
One quick sweep of Ian’s right foot and the startled intruder lay facedown on the floor. In one fluid move, Ian had his knee pressed into the man’s back, the barrel of his weapon nudged into the back of the man’s skull.
“Don’t move,” Ian warned. He slipped the fingers of his free hand into the man’s pocket to retrieve his wallet and check for identification.
The lights came on and Nicole crouched next to Ian as he pulled a driver’s license from the wallet. “George?” she demanded in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Ian glanced from the man pinned to the floor to the Virginia driver’s license he held in his hand. George Reed. Ian scowled and shifted his weight from the man’s back.
“I could ask you the same thing,” George said, a bit shakily as he pushed to his knees.
Ian tucked his weapon into his waistband at the small of his back and offered his hand to assist George in getting up. George shot Ian a cross look, but accepted the assistance. So this was Dr. George Reed, Ian mused as he closed and locked the door. He looked to be several years older than Nicole. Same blond hair and blue eyes. Tall and lean. Ian suppressed a smile when he remembered the hidden treasure beneath the bed.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming up?” George was asking as he dusted himself off. “I would have planned dinner with you or something,” he added, casting another less-than-appreciative look in Ian’s direction.
Ignoring George’s dubious glances, Ian noticed for the first time since this little episode began what Nicole was wearing. A white T-shirt that hit mid-thigh. Ian swallowed hard as he imagined what color those lacy panties might be this time. Lavender? Red? His groin tightened. Red satin against Nicole’s creamy skin. A slow, diffused excitement oozed forth and spread across his own skin. That same hot, tingly sensation exploded inside him, and Ian felt himself harden.
Ian gritted his teeth and forced away any thought of Nicole’s body or her attire. “Were you followed up the mountain?”
“What?” Frowning, and still a bit unsteady, George pivoted to face Ian.
“We don’t want anyone to know we’re here,” Nicole explained, drawing George’s attention back to her.
“Why not?” he demanded to know. “Does this have something to do with your position at the bureau?”
Nicole said yes at the same time that Ian said no.
George looked from one to the other, his frown deepening. “Which is it, yes or no?”
Ian pinned Nicole with a warning look.
“Well,” she began slowly. “Ian and I used to work together,” she stammered. “So, it’s sort of work-related.”
George’s expression did a complete turnaround. “I see,” he said knowingly. “A little internal affair.”
Ian wasn’t amused. “Did anyone follow you?” he asked again.
George hooked a thumb in Ian’s direction. “Who is this guy, Nicole? He’s even more serious than you.”
Nicole cleared her throat. “Sorry,” she offered. “George, this is Ian Michaels.” Nicole gestured hesitantly, then shrugged. “We’re former colleagues and we’ve been comparing notes on an old case that’s still unsolved.” She gave the men her back and strode across the room to place her weapon on the dining table.
George snagged Ian’s hand and pumped it once, firmly. “Any friend of Nicole’s is a friend of mine.”
Ian held on with an insistent pressure when George would have pulled his hand away. “Did anyone follow you up the mountain?” he asked slowly and for the third time. Ian pressed him with a gaze that he hoped conveyed the full significance of his request.
George’s amused expression wilted instantly. “No,” he said quickly, pulling his hand away even more swiftly. “No one followed me. There was no traffic at all, in fact.”
“Good.”
“Well,” Nicole chimed in with too much enthusiasm. “Why don’t we have a cup of coffee and catch up?” She looked from George to Ian and back, uncertainty shimmering in her wide blue eyes.
“Will you be staying?” Ian asked of George. Nicole narrowed her gaze at Ian. He supposed he deserved that—after all, the cabin did belong to the man.
George shook his head adamantly, and held up his hands stop-sign fashion. “I don’t want to intrude.”
Nicole shot Ian the evil eye. “Don’t be ridiculous, George,” she argued sincerely. “It’s 2:00 a.m., you have to stay. If you don’t want to have coffee now, we can go back to bed for a few hours and then have coffee together when the sun is up.”
“No, no, I can’t do that,” George countered with a bark of choked laughter. “I have a very pretty, and very impatient lady warming up in town at the lodge.”
“I’m sure you don’t want to keep her waiting,” Ian suggested.
Nicole flashed her palms upward and adopted a look of feigned dismay. “You should have brought her with you. We could have had a party!”
Ian was definitely going to wring Nicole’s lovely neck when George left…if he ever did.
“Another appealing offer,” George considered aloud. “But Stephanie hates the woods. She won’t come up here at all.” He shook his head slowly from side to side. “She maintains that it makes her feel like she has the lead in a Friday the 13th sequel.” He rubbed his chin. “I’m delving into her childhood to see if I can find the root of the problem.”
Nicole arched a speculative brow. “Stephanie is your patient?”
“Oh no,” George rebutted quickly. One hand fluttered magnanimously. “I just can’t help myself. I’m always evaluating my friends.” George cocked his blond head in Nicole’s direction. “And family,” he added pointedly. “Unfortunately, it appears to be the nature of the beast.”
&nbs
p; Ian stared at the floor for a moment until the urge to laugh at Nicole’s appalled expression subsided.
“I just dropped by to pick up a few things,” George explained. “Stephanie absolutely adores chains,” he added as he hurried to the bed.
Nicole’s mouth dropped open. Ian chewed the inside of his cheek. He would never have guessed that Nicole would be so prudish when it came to sexual fantasy. Based on past experience, Ian found it difficult to fathom the result if Nicole abandoned all inhibitions and control. He responded instantly to the notion.
“I wanted to ask you about that, George,” Nicole began as she moved slowly toward her cousin. George knelt and pulled the large plastic storage containers from beneath the bed. “You seem to have a new hobby.”
“Just having some fun, cuz,” he said while rummaging through one box. “You should try it. It’s a real tension breaker. You and Ian feel free to use anything you’d like.”
“Don’t even think about taking the other box of Godiva,” Nicole said abruptly. She snatched the remaining box from his hand. “I might be stuck here longer than I think.”
George huffed an indignant breath. “Well, don’t get all bent out of shape.” He shoved the box, less the Godiva and chains, back under the sorely out-of-place brass bed. “I’m only too happy to share.”
Nicole set her confiscated chocolate on the bed and dropped a quick kiss on George’s cheek. “Thank you, George, you’re a jewel among men.” Nicole flicked a disdainful glare in Ian’s direction.
Ian frowned. George, the sadomasochist, gets a kiss, and Ian gets a drop-dead look? Where was the justice in that?
Nicole walked George back to the door. “I wish we could meet for lunch or something,” she was saying contritely.
George stole a final glance at Ian. “Your friend looks as if he plans to keep you all to himself.”
Nicole sent Ian another glower. “Don’t let his attitude fool you, George, Ian’s nothing but a big teddy bear.”
Ian felt one brow arch of its own accord. Teddy Bear? Ian didn’t think so.
“Have a safe trip back into town, George,” Ian offered politely.
“Love the accent,” George remarked casually as he paused in the doorway. “It must thrill the ladies.”
Ian’s jaw tightened in an effort to refrain from comment.
“We may be in town tomorrow,” Nicole told him as he pressed a farewell kiss to her cheek. “I’ll call, maybe we can do lunch.”
“Think about what I said. You need to relax!” George called over his shoulder as he trotted out to his Jeep Cherokee.
Ian watched until George was out of sight, then he closed and locked the door. He turned back to Nicole, and the sadness he saw in her eyes made something shift near his heart.
“Lunch isn’t a good idea,” he said quietly.
She folded her arms over her chest and sighed. “I know. I can’t risk endangering George, or anyone else for that matter. Though I may be safe until this guy has Solomon’s location, no one around me is.” Nicole’s worried gaze sought out Ian’s. “That includes you, you know.”
“I know how to take care of myself,” Ian assured her. He wanted desperately to draw her into his arms and hold her until the sadness in her eyes went away.
“Daniels knew how to take care of himself, too,” she returned, her voice lacking any inflection. “And he’s dead anyway.”
Ignoring the warnings his brain was already sending him, Ian took a step closer to her. “Daniels wasn’t expecting the danger. I am. The element of surprise is everything. You know that as well as I do, Nicole.”
She trembled visibly. Ian clenched his fists at his sides.
“Yeah, I know.” She shook her head. Those big blue eyes looked suspiciously bright. “But dead is dead. Daniels was a highly trained and very skilled agent, and he’s dead. Someone wants me dead as well.” Her gaze connected fully with Ian’s. “And you’ll be dead if you get in his way.”
Ian’s resistance dissolved. He pulled Nicole into his arms and held her close. She smelled so good, like sweet, ripe peaches. She shuddered and his arms tightened around her. Ian closed his eyes then, and allowed himself to simply hold her. The case, their past, everything else ceased to matter. There was only Nicole and the way she needed him at the moment.
Beneath the thin cotton of her T-shirt, her nipples pebbled, creating an exquisite friction against his bare chest. The silk of her hair tantalized his hands. He wanted to thread his fingers into her hair and draw her head up for a long, steamy kiss.
But he didn’t. Ian continued to hold her and nothing more.
“You should get some more sleep,” he whispered against her ear. His eyes closed with the exquisite torture of continuing to hold her this close.
Nicole pulled back a little, her gaze directed at the floor. “You’re right. We should both get back to sleep.” She glanced up at him then, and Ian saw the flicker of desire that burned briefly in her eyes. “Good night, Ian.” She broke free of his embrace and padded to the enormous bed.
“Good night,” he murmured. He closed his eyes and sighed. No matter how tough she wanted to appear, Nicole was vulnerable right now. Almost fragile. And she was wrong, he added with mounting determination. He would keep her safe.
No matter what the cost.
NICOLE AWOKE to the delicious scent of fresh-brewed coffee and the calming sound of running water. She stretched languidly. Ian. The memory of how he had held her last night, so tenderly, so chastely, warmed her even now. Nicole sighed. Just when she was convinced that their relationship was about nothing more than sex, just when she thought she had figured the man out, he went and did something like that. Holding her as if he really cared, as if nothing else mattered.
She smiled when she considered George’s visit in the wee hours of the morning. And his little secret. George was a great deal more adventurous than Nicole would ever have guessed. How could she have known him her entire life and not have gotten even an inkling that the man was into kinky sex? The image of Ian, handcuffed to the wide brass headboard, suddenly took center stage in Nicole’s mind. A tiny barb of pleasure twisted low in her belly, followed by a slow warmth that gradually consumed her. She could see herself in the fantasy, on her hands and knees, moving over Ian’s helpless but unbearably aroused body. She would take her time tasting him, licking here and there, then drawing mercilessly on all the right spots. He would beg her to take him inside her, plead for release, but Nicole would linger, making the pleasure last until the desire reached a frantic pitch.
Nicole pushed up to a sitting position, wrapped her arms around her legs, and rested her chin atop her knees. She blew out a disgusted breath. Final warning, Reed. You’ve gone way beyond reason here, she scolded harshly. Nicole closed her eyes and considered her predicament. Where was her willpower? Her self-discipline? Why couldn’t she just look at Ian and pretend he was anybody else? A partner on a case? Someone she used to know in another life, when things were clearer and her job made much more sense? Someone temporarily back in her life?
Because it was impossible to describe Ian that simply. Everything about him and between them was complicated. Too complicated. And entirely too intense.
“Good morning.”
Nicole opened her eyes to the subject of her worrisome reverie. Nicole blinked in surprise. He wore blue jeans that fit as if they were tailor-made for his long, lean body, and a gray cable-knit sweater that emphasized the breadth of his broad shoulders as well as the darker silver of his eyes. His dark hair was still slightly damp, and Nicole had the sudden almost overwhelming urge to run her fingers through it.
One side of his mouth lifted in a ghost of a smile. “Would you prefer your coffee in bed?”
No, she thought wickedly, I’d prefer you in bed. Nicole swallowed in an effort to halt the swell of need tightening her throat. “Good morning,” she managed, her voice thick with sleep and the lust her fantasy had elicited. “I’ll get my own coffee, thank you,” she added wi
th a tad more resolve.
“Fine.” He turned and strode to the kitchen.
Nicole shivered. She could learn things about sensuality just by watching him walk across the room. He moved like a panther, slow, graceful, each step a fluid motion that encompassed his entire being. He appeared at once completely relaxed, yet poised for anything that might come his way. And his voice… Nicole hugged herself tighter. She tried to analyze the effect, tried to get used to it, but she was never fully prepared for the way it flowed over her, absorbed her in its essence.
A shower. She threw the covers back and bounded off the bed. After she’d showered and dressed they could drive into town for a few provisions. The trip would serve two purposes, a much-needed distraction and the opportunity to show themselves in public, to make sure the bait was taken. Nicole selected a pair of jeans and a red sweater. Red was always a definite eye-catcher. And today she needed something that stood out amid the earth-tone colors of autumn and the other diehard back-to-nature tourists. Nicole just hoped that their little excursion would garner the right attention. Dragging this weekend out any longer than necessary wouldn’t be too smart.
Nicole hurried into the bathroom and quickly closed the door behind her. She needed distance. If she couldn’t distance herself physically from Ian, which was impossible in the present scenario, she would simply have to distance herself emotionally from him. Her attempts had proven woefully inadequate thus far. But that was about to change. Nicole was finished playing around. It was time to get serious.
No one she cared about would be safe until this was over.
Especially Ian.
TOURISTS, attempting to make the most of summer’s last holiday, had descended upon the tiny village of Town Creek. Ian closely monitored the knots of shoppers bustling up and down the sidewalks. Of course, the hitman following Nicole could be waiting behind any one of the pairs of designer sunglasses adorning the many faces around them. The clink of cheap dinnerware and the steady hum of conversation vibrated in the small, filled-to-capacity café as they had lunch. Unscuffed hiking boots and brand-new outdoorsy clothing separated the tourists—Ian and Nicole included—from the locals.
