Cinderella's Secret Agent

by Ingrid Weaver

  She felt full, complete. If she could meld herself to the large, strong body on which she lay, she would. She had never felt this way before. She didn’t think it was due to her long abstinence, or to residual hormones or anything physical.

  It was because she was in love.

  Del moved his hand to her hair and tenderly stroked her curls away from her face. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “Very.”

  “I’m sorry if I was too rough.”

  “You weren’t,” she said, turning her face to plant a kiss in the center of his chest. She rubbed her nose against his springy hair, smiling at the way it tickled. “I’m glad you cooperated.”

  “Cooperated?”

  “In my seduction of you. I wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. I’m glad I didn’t have to get rough.”

  Quiet laughter rumbled through his chest. “Maggie, you’re something else.”

  “Thanks. I think.” She stacked her hands under her chin and lifted her head to look at him.

  Oh, he was a glorious sight. In the flickering candlelight, his broad, muscled chest was sculpted bronze. His shirt, minus a few buttons, was twisted crookedly, half on, half off his shoulders. Shadows softened his chiseled features and darkened the smile lines around his lips. His eyes were half-closed, not with fatigue but with a lazy gleam of satisfaction.

  Another aftershock of pleasure trembled through her thighs. She had to be honest with herself. While her love for Del might have intensified the sex, there was no denying that his magnificent body had contributed greatly to the experience. Goodness, wasn’t it lucky for her that the man she loved happened to be handsome as sin?

  “What are you smiling about?” he asked, tracing her lips with his fingertip.

  “Just thinking about your luscious body.”

  “Luscious?” He stretched to grasp the hem of her blouse, tugging it over her head and down her arms. Her bra followed. Grinning, he tossed the garments to the floor and slid his hands between their bodies so that his palms cradled her breasts. “Now, these are luscious,” he said, squeezing gently.

  She wiggled her shoulders. “Mmm.”

  He shifted his hips. “Maggie?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Let’s use the bed this time.”

  This time? Her pulse did an odd flip as she felt him harden again.

  “Or would you be worried that we might disturb Delilah?”

  “Delilah’s with my neighbor,” she said. “Armilda’s baby-sitting her.”

  “She’s…” He sat up, moving her to his lap. “Do you mean we’re alone?”

  Looping her arms around his neck, she nodded. Again, she thought that she probably should be feeling guilty for thinking of her own pleasure, but she didn’t. “Her next feeding isn’t until after midnight.”

  Del quickly shrugged out of his shirt, then scooped her up and rose to his feet. His belt clunked to the floor as his pants, still unfastened, fell to his ankles. His eyes met hers, his expression a potent mixture of humor and passion as he kicked his pants aside. Naked, he carried her to the bedroom.

  The candle that Maggie had placed on the night table sputtered in a pool of hot wax. The fresh sheets she had put on the mattress that afternoon were a damp, tangled heap at the foot of the bed. The picture that had hung over the headboard was on the floor—the rocking of the bed had knocked it off its hook an hour ago.

  Lacing her fingers over her head, Maggie rolled to her back and stretched luxuriously. “Mmm.”

  Del curled over to place a wet kiss on her navel. “Do you know how many times you’ve said that tonight?”

  “No. I think I lost count.”

  “Well, I suspect we might have set some kind of record.”

  She giggled. “Okay, I confess. I did count.”

  Del kissed his way upward, then lay down on his side, flung one leg over hers and propped his head against his hand. “This could be habit-forming.”

  “Only if we practice.” She put her hand on his cheek. The shadow of his beard rasped against her palm.

  He caught her finger between his teeth and bit lightly, then sucked on it.

  “A lot,” she said, her stomach contracting with heat. “We have to practice a whole lot.”

  “Good idea.” He released her finger and leaned over to give her a long, thorough kiss.

  Record or not, by the time he lifted his head, Maggie would have wanted him again if she wasn’t getting warning twinges from areas that were already tender. With a sigh, she snuggled against his chest. “I never knew it could be like this.”

  “Neither did I, Maggie,” he murmured. He moved his hand to her hip, splaying his fingers possessively.

  “Sometimes, when I think about you, I can’t understand how I got so lucky.” She brushed a kiss over his heart. “You’re my best friend, Del. I’ve never had a man be my best friend before, but you’ve been there for me from the day Delilah was born.”

  His fingers tightened on her waist. “I’m glad you still consider me your friend, Maggie.”

  “Oh, you are. I don’t know how I would have survived these past six weeks without you.”

  “I didn’t do that much. You would have managed on your own,” he said.

  “Maybe. But I don’t want to be on my own.” She arched backward to look into his face. “Stay with me, Del.”

  There was a brief silence. “I have been staying with you.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I know that you said you’d be leaving when your work in New York was done, but—”

  “Maggie,” he said, his tone hollow. “Don’t. Please.”

  She heard the warning in his voice, and it sent fear tiptoeing down her spine. They had just made love. They had been as close as two people could get. And yet even though he wasn’t moving, she felt him draw away.

  She came up on her knees. Whether he wanted to hear it or not, she wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass by. She might lose him, but the bigger the stakes, the bigger the risk. And for a future with Del, she was willing to risk it all. She leaned over, caught his face in her hands and smiled. “I love you, Del.”

  For an instant, pure joy shone from his eyes. The hard line of his jaw softened and he covered her hands with his. He parted his lips.

  In the breathless silence as she waited for his reply, she slowly became aware of the distant, muffled ringing of a cell phone.

  Del muttered a curse and pulled her hands away. “I’m sorry, Maggie.”

  “Del—”

  “I’m sorry.” He jackknifed upward and left the bed. Moments later there was the clunk of his belt buckle on the floor, a rustle of fabric, and then the sound of Del’s voice.

  Maggie knelt in the center of the mattress, stunned by how swiftly everything had changed. Part of her wanted to curl up in a ball and pull the sheets over her head and pretend this was all a bad dream.

  How could he have done this? How could the tender lover of minutes ago transform into a cold, distant stranger? What kind of phone call could possibly be more important than her declaration of love?

  Or maybe it wasn’t the phone call at all. Maybe it was what she had said that had sent him running. Of course! she thought desperately. That had to be it. Plenty of men got scared off by the L-word. Because of his broken engagement, Del was even more cautious than most. She should have realized that.

  Grabbing her robe, she sprinted barefoot to the living room.

  He was already dressed. If it weren’t for the missing buttons on his shirt and the wrinkles in his pants, she might have wondered whether she had imagined the whole evening.

  “Del, wait,” she said.

  He rubbed his hand roughly over his face. “Maggie, I have to go.”

  “I’m not going to betray you.”

  “What?”

  “You can trust me, Del. We’ve always been honest with each other, and we always will be. I’m not like that other woman.”

  “What are you talking about?”

&nbs
p; “I’m not like Elizabeth, that woman who broke your heart.”

  “Maggie—”

  “I know you’ve been hurt, and that’s why you’ve been so cautious about what’s going on between us, but don’t let what happened in the past keep you from taking a chance on our future. I didn’t.” She moved closer and lifted her hands to his shoulders. “I love you, Del. Please, don’t run from that. Stay and give us a chance.”

  “You don’t understand,” he said, his tone fast and harsh. “This isn’t about us, it’s about business.”

  “What?”

  “I have to get to the office.”

  “Why?”

  “Something urgent just came up. It’s my job—”

  “Your job?” She gave him a shake. “A job is just a way to make money, it’s not your life.”

  “It is my life, Maggie.”

  “You’re wrong. It can’t take the place of a home and children and someone who really loves you.”

  His eyes snapped with a look of raw pain. “It does for me.”

  “But, Del—”

  He grasped her wrists and pulled her hands away. “I’m not the man you think I am.”

  “Then tell me who you are. Tell me what you’re hiding.”

  His nostrils flared as he drew in his breath. “I can’t, Maggie.”

  She looked at him in dawning horror. Over the past six weeks, she had convinced herself that she was imagining his secrecy, that her misgivings sprang from her problem with trust. She had done her best to rationalize her doubts away.

  But now he hadn’t even tried to deny that he was hiding something.

  “Why not?” she demanded, feeling her temper rise. She curled her hands into fists, angry at herself as much as at him. “Why the hell not? Doesn’t what we just did mean anything to you, Del? If you’re hiding something, don’t you think you owe me the truth?”

  For an instant, he wavered. But then he dropped her wrists and turned toward the door. “I’m sorry, Maggie. I can’t,” he repeated.

  All the suspicions, all the gut-clenching fears that she had dammed up in the back of her mind came flooding out. Was he really married? Did he have a double life? Was he doing something illegal?

  Oh, God. She had been a fool for the second time. She had been willfully deluding herself. It was Alan all over again. She had managed to recover the last time, but the way she felt about Del, the pain was already ripping her heart in two.

  He opened the dead bolt and slid the chain off its slot. Regret hardened the angles of his face. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  He had said that before, she realized suddenly. Just before they had made love the first time. She hadn’t thought anything about it then, but had he been trying to warn her? She had made love, but had it only been sex to him?

  She clutched the lapels of her robe together. Despite the modest garment, she felt naked. “Yeah, right,” she said, hating the way her voice shook.

  “Maggie…”

  Reaching past him, she turned the knob and flung the door open. “If you’re leaving, then leave. Just go away. That’s what you want to do, isn’t it?”

  He clenched his jaw and stepped into the hall. “I don’t want us to part this way, Maggie. I’ll come back when—”

  “No, Del. Don’t come back.”

  “Maggie—”

  “You were right,” she said, blinking back her tears as she stood in the doorway. “You’re not the man I thought you were.” She closed the door.

  Chapter 12

  Del could see from the number of wet footprints leading up the stairs that at least six agents had recently arrived at the surveillance site. Evidently, SPEAR intelligence had notified all available personnel.

  The phone call Del had received had been brief but to the point.

  Their quarry had been spotted.

  Simon was on his way to the Manhattan apartment.

  After months of tedious waiting, Del should have been elated to hear the news. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? He had chafed at his enforced inactivity. He had been eager to end the hunt. There had been nothing more important in his life than the satisfaction of his position in SPEAR. It was what he did, who he was—

  It’s not your life.

  The helpless frustration he’d felt since he’d left Maggie’s—no, since she had thrown him out—escalated to rage. Del hit the side of his fist against the stairwell wall.

  Damn it, could the timing have been any worse? He had just experienced the most incredible lovemaking of his life, and he’d had to end things with all the finesse of a kid late for curfew.

  Maggie deserved better than that. She deserved better than him. And judging by the pain on her face when he’d left her, she’d finally come to that conclusion herself.

  Del reached the sixth floor and hit the wall again, barely noticing the pain that hummed up his arm.

  Someone grabbed his elbow as he stepped into the corridor. “Hey, take it easy.”

  Del spun around, pressing his forearm across his assailant’s windpipe as he slammed him into the wall. A split second later, he recognized the face. Muttering an oath, he dropped his arm.

  “Geez, Del.” Bill rubbed his throat and regarded him warily. “Save it for the other side.”

  “Sorry,” Del said. “Are you hurt?”

  “No. But you could have snapped my neck,” Bill said. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing,” Del said, turning away.

  “Like hell.” Bill caught his elbow again. “What’s going on?”

  “Just trying to do my job,” Del snapped. “That’s what this is all about, after all, right? The job?”

  “Then get a hold of yourself. You’re no use to us like this.”

  Del knew his partner was right. He had hoped he could burn off some of his frustration on the way over here. He had to focus on the task at hand. His life and everyone else’s could depend on it. He tipped back his head and inhaled through his teeth, searching for the control he was famous for.

  Bill lowered his voice. “Is it Maggie?”

  What was the point of lying? He was sick of lies. “Yes.”

  “Did the call come at a bad time?”

  “The worst,” Del muttered, heading for the apartment.

  For once Bill didn’t pursue the subject as he fell into step beside him. Obviously, he realized Del was too close to the edge as it was.

  As soon as Del stepped through the door to the apartment, he saw that his estimate of the number of agents who had arrived before him was low. He counted three people gathered by the surveillance equipment at the window. Four more clustered in front of the flickering screen of the video monitor, and two were assembling weapons in the kitchen.

  Tension crackled through the room. There was no lighthearted banter as there had been this afternoon in the van. This was no lark, no dry run, and the knowledge was reflected in the expression and posture of every agent present. Not only were they wearing their game faces, they were wearing full assault gear.

  Del went directly to the equipment shelf and stripped down to his underwear. His fingers faltered briefly as he felt the empty buttonholes on his shirt—the buttons would still be on Maggie’s floor. Her laughter when she had ripped off those buttons had been the most erotic sound he had ever heard….

  No, he couldn’t think about that now. This was the moment he had been waiting for. It demanded no less than one hundred percent of his attention.

  Setting his jaw, Del pulled on his black jumpsuit and rubber-soled boots. The black bulletproof body armor came next, then the earphone and throat microphone that would keep him in contact with the rest of the team.

  More agents arrived. Del pulled on a black ski mask, picked up his sniper’s rifle and moved aside to give them enough space to suit up. Despite the gathering crowd, though, the place was eerily quiet. Only the hiss of clothing sliding on, the click-chunk of weapons being readied and tersely muttered directions broke the silence. Del made his way to
the window, lifted his gun’s scope to his eye and sighted on the lighted apartment across the courtyard.

  He spotted Herbert Hull immediately. The tattooed ex Marine was stationed beside the apartment door, an M16 slung on his shoulder. Hull appeared to be acting as sentry tonight rather than sniper—the 5.56 mm rifle he held was better for stopping power than for long-range accuracy. As Del watched, a pair of men were admitted to the apartment by Hull, bringing the number of subjects there to eleven. And like Hull, they all appeared to be armed.

  Del traded his rifle for binoculars. He recognized several faces from the briefings he’d received from intelligence. These were Simon’s associates who had recently arrived in town. From the looks of things, they were gathering for a meeting.

  The agent who had been monitoring the parabolic microphone pulled off her headphones and channeled the feed from the recording equipment into a speaker. Instantly, the air was filled with the chatter of conversation.

  “…how much longer he expects us to wait.”

  “He’ll be here,” Hull said.

  “I don’t like it,” another voice said. Del moved the binoculars to see who was talking. A short man lounged against the wall, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. “I can’t see the profit in this plan.”

  “Then take it up with Simon.”

  The short man puffed nervously on his cigarette and glanced around him. “Hey, I got no problem with Simon. I just want to know what’s in it for me….”

  The conversation continued to ramble on. Nothing specific was said. Hull and his friends appeared to be waiting for Simon.

  Then again, wasn’t everyone? Del thought.

  Over the next half hour, Hull continued to admit people to the apartment. The rain gradually tapered off, giving the agents an unobstructed view of the assembled men. The air of expectancy on both sides of the courtyard grew.

  Finally, with no warning or fanfare, Simon was there.

  The man SPEAR had pursued for almost a year strode confidently into the midst of his associates. He was a tall man in his fifties, still rock-solid judging by the coiled energy in his movements. A full beard, dark brown shot through with gray like his hair, covered the lower half of his face but couldn’t hide the scars on his cheeks. From his jawline to his temples, Simon’s skin was rippled with the shiny white-and-red mottling of a decades-old burn. His gaze was cold, flat and only half-human—one of his eyes was glass.