by Dana Marton
“Where?” She looked at him bewildered.
He extended a hand and helped her up. “Turn.”
She stood with her back to him now.
“Lean forward and you should be able to see out through the gap above the door.”
She did, grabbing the top of the door for support. He put an arm around her waist to make sure she didn’t fall.
“What do you see?” he asked, desperately trying to ignore her behind, which was pressed against his pelvic region in an intimate position.
“He’s going in through the bathroom window we left open. Should we go after him and surprise him?”
He thought about that for a moment. “We’ll see afterward what he touched. I don’t want him to know that we’re on to him.” It never hurt to have an ace up one’s sleeve.
He only hoped Gina didn’t notice what else he had up.
Which she was bound to do if she kept moving to see better.
“Anything?” he asked after a minute, wishing he could see out, too, and had something else to focus on other than the proximity of their bodies.
“Still in there. What do you think he’s doing—hiding bugs?”
“We’ll do a thorough check after he leaves.” Had Mark become suspicious of the women while Cal had been gone with Gina? “Did the others run into any trouble while we were up the mountain?”
“They didn’t say anything.” She turned to him. “I got the impression that everything went well.”
“Maybe he’s a kleptomaniac.” He focused all his energies on picturing Sergey and what he could be doing inside the building. Not an easy task when his mind pulled full force in the direction of explicit Gina fantasies. Like what would happen if he ground himself into her from behind, if he slid a hand under her shirt and ran his fingers up her soft, warm skin to her breasts.
Her scent filled his nostrils, flooded his brain. There was no way to turn from her in the small enclosure. His thumb twitched on her slim waist.
“He’s coming,” she said.
Good for him.
They held their breath as Sergey passed by the cabana, going back toward his own quarters the way he had come. He didn’t have anything in his hands, no telltale bulges under his clothes, either, that would have indicated he’d taken something.
When he passed out of sight, Gina jumped to the ground. “Let’s check the place out.”
He followed, grateful for the darkness that gave him a chance to adjust himself. He put a restraining hand on her shoulder as she reached out to put her key in the lock.
“Hold on a second. Let’s move with the assumption that he was here to rig the place with explosives.”
She froze for a second before she countered. “He didn’t look like he was carrying anything, in or out.”
“Always prepare for the worst-case scenario,” he said, passing on one of the tenets of his SIS training. “The door could be booby-trapped.”
She thought about that. “We’ll go in the same way he did.”
He nodded and rounded the building.
“Here.” He held his hands out, fingers linked, for her when they got to their destination.
She stepped up, grabbed the windowsill, then pulled herself higher, brushing against him on the way. At one point his face was pressed into her abdomen. He clenched his jaw and tried not to inhale any more of her scent—soap and sun-kissed skin—that made him want to rip her shirt off with his bare teeth.
After she disappeared inside, he jumped up and grabbed the sill, worked himself over the ledge. Since he was a head taller, the job was easier for him.
She was standing still where she had landed, surveying the place.
“Anything obviously out of place?” He mouthed the words, mindful of possible listening devices. He hadn’t been inside the bungalow since the women had arrived. The living room looked like a traveling fashion show, clothes scattered around on the furniture.
She gave it some time before she responded. “Nothing that I can spot from here,” she mouthed back.
He passed her and checked for hidden explosives first, any sign of odd wiring. When he didn’t find any, and was sure turning a switch wouldn’t set anything off, he flicked on the light. He gave her a thumbs-up and they moved to search for bugs.
“Clear,” she said after a good half hour.
“Same here.” He closed the last kitchen cabinet.
“I couldn’t find anything missing downstairs. Let’s check above.”
She moved up the stairs and he followed, taking the first door to the left while she took the one to the right. Anita’s room; he recognized her clothes. The room was tidy, much more so than the common area below. Nothing looked out of place, nothing looked as if it had been touched. He moved on to the next room—Gina’s.
The air carried her subtle scent, assailing him as soon as he opened the door. Everything was orderly here, as well, making him wonder if Sam and Carly were the messy ones in the group. He went to the closet first, then the dresser, skirting her bed. Nothing looked as if it had been searched through. He pulled open one dresser drawer after the other, his hand stopping in midmotion, his brain blanking as he got to the one that was filled with tidy rows of silk underwear.
She was an ex-cop. Couldn’t she wear sensible cotton? He couldn’t stop himself from picturing her in the array of colors in front of him.
“Find anything interesting?” she asked from the door.
He slammed the drawer shut and turned. God, she was beautiful. “Plenty, but maybe you should look. You’d know better what things looked like before.” He backed away, banging the back of his knees against the bed, and had a sudden vision of the two of them tangled in the sheets.
“You okay?”
I want you so much I can’t breathe, was the first thing that popped into his mind. Instead of saying it, however, he escaped out the door.
She was one of the most beautiful and intelligent women he’d ever met. There was nothing wrong with being attracted to her, he told himself as he padded down the stairs. He just didn’t like how out of control the attraction was getting.
He grabbed a soda from the fridge and leaned against the counter, letting his gaze skim the area around him as he drank. What had Sergey been doing in here?
Gina was coming down the stairs. “Can’t find a thing out of place.”
“I’ll go pay Sergey a visit before we take the boat out in the morning. I don’t feel comfortable leaving your friends here alone with Sergey sneaking in and out.”
She drew up a sexy eyebrow as she came closer. “They’re trained operatives.”
“I’m a gentleman.”
She just about gaped at him, the look on her face making his lips twitch.
She thought for a moment, her gaze hardening. “Let’s make one thing clear. You’re not taking over our operation just because you’re a man. We’ll cooperate as equals.” She emphasized the last word.
“It turns me on when you get all tough on me,” he said and stepped forward, self-control be damned.
He could run from the stunning strength of his attraction, but what good would that do? He’d had his share of women before his marriage and since his divorce. He knew how to have fun without getting involved. Although the circumstances were far from ideal, it was better to neutralize the distraction rather than allow it to mess him up and maybe mess up the operation in turn.
He’d made his decision in that split second. The next, she was snugly enfolded in his arms.
Her eyes went wide, and for a moment he felt as if he could fall into those golden pools. Then he reminded himself that double-oh-seven didn’t fall. So he moved ahead and conquered.
WHO DID HE THINK HE was?
His infuriating habit of kissing her whenever the mood struck him had to be stopped. He had to be shown who was in control. She pressed her body hard up against him, making sure he felt every curve, and kissed him back, giving as good as she got.
And soon realized that she was
dueling with a master.
He dropped his hands to cup her behind. She dropped hers until the hard muscles of his buttocks filled them. And then she pulled him even closer.
The proof that she was having a definite effect on him was gratifying.
He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around him on reflex. Then he was moving her toward the counter, depositing her on it. Good thinking—her knees were getting wobbly anyway.
Did it give him the upper hand that his weren’t? She slid her hands under his shirt, exploring the hills and valleys of smooth skin over muscles, to make sure he knew she was far from capitulation. His nipples hardened as she brushed over them.
His body was perfectly built and proportioned. She gave herself over to the enjoyment of it. She deserved that much after all the years of solitude. He was offering and she had half a mind to accept. What harm could it do? They could enjoy each other’s bodies for a few days, then part ways, no strings, no regrets.
Could she do it?
She’d tried commitment and that hadn’t worked. Maybe she was a better fit for a no-strings deal. His hands came around to cup her breasts, and her body hummed in approval.
He was the perfect casual relationship: hot as all get-out, straightforward, a confirmed bachelor, possessing a body that would make any red-blooded woman weep for joy. And when they were done he would be an ocean away, making it unlikely that they would ever run into each other again, giving rise to regrets or embarrassment.
He opened her front-closure bra with a flick of his thumb.
Smooth. She appreciated that at the moment, the breath catching in her throat as her breasts tumbled forward into the heat of his waiting palms. She highly approved of the way his lips trailed down from her mouth, heading in the perfect direction. She leaned back and let her head drop, allowing him free rein of her neck, bit back a moan when his wet mouth closed over one of her nipples through the thin material of her tank top.
She was going to mount a counteroffensive in a minute. She just had to gather her thoughts first, let him exhaust himself a little. There seemed to be a problem with serious mental haze, however. Especially when he pulled her shirt over her head, removing the bra with it in one easy move.
But she still wasn’t ready to capitulate. There was fight in her yet. She slid a hand between them and cupped his hardness.
Impressive.
And in that split second she could feel what it would be like for him to slide inside her. Her pulse quickened. He was rubbing her with the palm of his hand in a slow circular motion. She felt her body tighten and felt powerless to stop the tide.
He lifted his head from her breasts, and she caught a look of fierce concentration on his face as he watched her. And she knew she was going to lose this battle.
He claimed her lips again at the exact moment when her body convulsed and spirals of pleasure swirled through her. She collapsed against his chest, holding on for support.
She didn’t have much time to gather her thoughts.
“Interrupting anything?” The question came from the door. Carly was standing over the threshold with a self-satisfied smirk on her face, her eyes firmly fixed on her feet.
Gina cringed even though Cal was covering her with his body. Still, it had to be pretty obvious what they were doing. Her heart hammered against her chest, her body weak from her release. She couldn’t come up with a good explanation. She couldn’t utter a single word.
Carly didn’t seem to need one. “Keep up the good work,” she said as she backed out, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “I forgot my bag at the tiki bar. Mind walking back with me?” she called out. Apparently the others were behind her on the path.
Chapter Seven
“So we think there’s an extra room upstairs,” Anita said, after Cal had left and the other women had returned to the bungalow.
“How big of an area are we talking about?” Gina asked, grateful that none of the women mentioned her being caught with Cal. She was confused on the issue enough already. She couldn’t possibly explain something to others that she herself didn’t yet understand. What had she been thinking?
“Not much, maybe three or four hundred square feet. I’ve spent a lot of time in the kitchen lately, and when I was looking around upstairs last night, I started to compare the square footage with the area below. It’s definitely not a match.” Anita rubbed her temple.
She looked tired. They all did. They were working their plan every minute of the day, learning as much as they could about the place, knowing every piece of information would be vital when the commando team got here.
“So when do we go back?” Gina asked, relieved to have something to focus on other than how her body still tingled from pleasure.
“We were thinking about doing it before dawn.” Carly sprawled in a kitchen chair. “Maybe around four? Everybody should be asleep by then.”
“And the early risers should still be in bed,” Anita added.
“Let’s make it three.” Gina wanted to make sure they were done by the time she was supposed to take the yacht out with Cal at first light. Mark had finally returned.
The others agreed.
For a moment she thought about going over to Cal and telling him about this latest development but then decided not to. She wasn’t ready to be alone with him in his bungalow just now. Too many things had happened in the past few days, in the past few hours. Before she saw him again she needed to sort out a couple of things. She would just tell him the end result of their night recon tomorrow on the yacht.
To be honest, she was embarrassed to face him right now. It was so unlike her to completely lose herself, to throw all caution to the wind. She wanted to put it down to the adrenaline-charged atmosphere, but she’d been in plenty of highly charged situations on the police force and had never behaved like this.
And, yes, she’d been alone for a long time, but she would have had plenty of opportunities on Grand Cayman to hook up with a man and ease her loneliness. The team had attended plenty of cocktail parties and receptions as part of their cover. She had gotten a number of offers. And she’d turned down each and every one.
So why did Cal Spencer get to her where others couldn’t?
THERE WERE ARMED men on the beach, two that she could see, guarding the island from intruders on the water. Mark had recommended that the guests stay inside late at night. He played down the presence of the guards, saying something about a negligible possibility of pirates getting out of hand—which, he assured them, never happened, but better safe than sorry.
The four women put on dark clothes, turned a light on in the living room in the front and turned on the TV—as if one of them was having trouble sleeping—hoping if anyone glanced toward the bungalow, their attention would be drawn by the light and the muffled sounds of late-night programming. Then they sneaked out through a back window.
They crept from bush to bush, skittering forward across the gaps, keeping low and communicating with hand signals only. When they were off the beach and in the cover of vegetation, they moved parallel to shore until they were in line with the main building. Unlike the other structures, which stood on posts and were made of wood, this had a cement base and brick walls.
Gina ran her gaze down the length of the backside. She’d noticed the differences on arrival but figured it was the safe house for guests and staff in the event of cyclones, which, from what she’d heard from Mark, weren’t uncommon in the region.
“Here we go.” Anita sneaked forward, ran across the sand and, when she reached the back wall, pushed a small window open.
She was a regular visitor in the kitchen, pretending that nothing interested her more than French Polynesian cooking. She had mapped the area and set up their entry the evening before. Apparently nobody had checked the windows when they’d locked up the place for the night. Looked as though the staff relaxed their standards while the boss was away. Sam had been prepared with her tool kit, but this way their entry would be quicker and ea
sier.
“Let’s move,” she said and went next, leaving Gina and Carly alone behind the big-leafed fernlike bush.
“About this evening…” Gina whispered, clearing her throat. “Thanks for not saying anything.”
Carly looked at her for a long moment. “I hope it’ll work for you. But if it turns out he’s not on our side and he’s just playing with you—” a fierce expression stole onto her face “—he’s going to seriously have to answer to us.”
“Damn right.” Gina grinned. It was nice to have someone watch her back, to have friends who cared about her and watched out for her. The grin faded as she thought of Cal. “I’m not in love with him or anything. It’s—” She drew a deep breath. “I don’t know what it is. Pure chemistry. I’ve never seen anything like this before. I’m confused out of my mind, which doesn’t seem to stop me from wanting him.”
“He’s pretty hot,” Carly conceded before she sneaked inside after Sam.
Yes, he was hot. Lust. That’s what it was about. Simple lust. Gina waited until Carly reached safety, then went in after her.
They stood still in the silence of the bamboo-paneled bathroom. So far, so good. Nobody had raised the alarm.
According to their observations, the main building was deserted at night. The downstairs was taken up by the kitchen, dining room and storage rooms; the upstairs area had offices that didn’t seem to be in use. Only Mark went up there now and then.
Since Anita knew the place best, she went first and the rest of them followed. The kitchen still smelled like dinner and a little bit of bleach from the end-of-day cleanup. Stainless steel appliances gleamed in the moonlight that filtered through the windows. Pots and pans hung from hooks on the walls, refrigerators hummed quietly in the night.
Bang!
Gina whipped around, holding her trusty steak knife. She needed to get her hands on a real weapon. She’d given the machete back to Cal. Couldn’t very well walk around the beach with that. It wasn’t the sort of thing you could hide in a skimpy pair of shorts.
“Sorry.” Sam pulled her neck in, an apologetic look on her face. A bucket of taro lay kicked over at her feet.
