Hot Chick for Hire

by Cat Johnson

  I blew out a burst of air. "You're not the only one."

  He chuckled. "Anyway, thank you for stepping up tonight. Tristan's one of the good guys. He helps us and we help him whenever we can. I appreciate you handling him in my absence."

  "No problem." I held in my overwhelming relief over Zane's confirming Tristan was a good guy and that I hadn’t just committed treason.

  "I'll be back in the office tomorrow. Then you and I will talk. In light of recent events, I might have to see about expanding your duties at GAPS a bit."

  In light of recent events, I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad one, so I said, "Okay."

  "Tell Tristan I'll call him. And I'll see you in the morning."

  "Okay. Sounds good. Bye." I held the phone out to Tristan. "He'll be back tomorrow. He said he'll call you."

  Tristan took the phone and slid it into his jacket. "So it seems you and I are both done with work for the night."

  "It seems so." And since Tristan was one of the good guys and had Zane’s stamp of approval, I said, "You, um, wanna come upstairs?"

  I bit my lip and yanked my gaze back to his eyes from where it had dropped to his strong chin and to what I knew to be an oh so kissable mouth.

  Those lips tipped up into a smile. "I'd like nothing better."

  NINE

  We'd barely gotten inside my apartment and Tristan had just pushed the door closed and turned toward me when I got a look at the heat in his narrowed eyes. His nostrils flared as he drew in a breath and watched me.

  That was pretty much all it took. I wanted him. And I was pretty sure he wanted me.

  There's something to be said for the effects of adrenaline on the body—or more accurately on the libido.

  I was already ramped up from the excitement and fear.

  Risk was like a drug. I was riding a high that we'd dared fate and gotten away with it and now I wanted to celebrate. With him. Naked. In my bed.

  I took a step forward. So did he. Then we both moved, crashing together like waves onto the shore.

  He thrust his hands into my hair and kissed me. I pawed at his clothes, wanting my hands on skin not fabric.

  "Bedroom." I managed to get the one word out and take a breath before his mouth was over mine again.

  He backed me across the apartment and toward my bedroom door. It was slow going, but I couldn't seem to stop touching him, or kissing him, long enough for us to walk to my room.

  I crashed backward into the doorframe, hard and with a grunt, stopping our progression.

  Tristan took that opportunity to unbutton my jacket and slide it off my arms, groaning as he ran his palms down my sides and stared down at the purple bra he'd picked out.

  His palms were warm, heating a path across my bare skin in the cool air of the apartment. He reached for the button on my suit pants and opened it, sliding the zipper down next.

  I held my breath as he flattened his palm against my stomach and slid his hand down. He slipped beneath the waistband of my underwear, then lower.

  When his fingers touched the sensitive spot between my legs I was grateful for the wall at my back as my knees went weak.

  I was torn between the desire to get to my bed and my need for him to keep touching me.

  The need won out. I pressed my head back against the doorframe, closed my eyes and grabbed onto his arms to steady myself as he worked me harder.

  "You are so beautiful."

  I couldn't even say thank you. I was too close to the edge. It wasn't going to take long for him to send me careening into orgasm. It had been too long for me.

  My body was like a string instrument, strung tight and waiting to be played, and Tristan was a master musician. Every touch made my nerve endings sing and soon I was keening out noises I hoped the neighbors couldn't hear.

  When I came, Tristan hissed against my ear, "Yes."

  I'd barely finished throbbing from his touch when he grabbed my hand and hauled me through the doorway and into my bedroom.

  I was perfectly happy with the change of location. I didn't know how long before my roommate would be home and the last thing I wanted was to be interrupted.

  I shoved the door closed and turned to look at him, still amazed he was here. That we were here together.

  When I’d left for work this morning I sure as hell had never suspected the day would end like this. But I definitely wasn't complaining.

  There was one problem. I was nearly half naked and he was still fully dressed.

  That needed to change. I took control of the situation, grabbed the sides of his jacket and pushed it over his broad shoulders and down his muscled arms.

  He helped me by first taking off his tie, and then unbuttoning his shirt. That was a good thing. My fingers were too shaky to have managed the tiny and numerous white buttons.

  Tristan kicked off his shoes and moved on to unfastening his pants. I took the opportunity to do the same, kicking off my heels and pushing my pants down my legs. I turned to fling them onto the dresser.

  When I turned back, in nothing but my bra and underwear, I stood slack jawed and stared at the chiseled body of the Greek God who was in my room.

  "Oh my God. You should never wear clothes. Seriously, Tristan. Like never."

  He laughed, tossing the thin white tank top he'd had on beneath the button-down dress shirt onto the dresser. "That might be frowned upon at some of the places I go."

  "Then you're going to the wrong places." I took a step forward and ran my hands over the hard ridges of his muscles.

  He was seriously ripped and it was a sin to cover it.

  A tight T-shirt, maybe. I could get on board with seeing the bulges beneath the cotton and imagining what was beneath. But he certainly should not be covered up in a tank top, beneath a button-down shirt, and then a tie and suit jacket and trench coat on top of that.

  "I'm glad you approve." With a look of determination Tristan took a step forward, lifted me until I was airborne and then tossed me onto the mattress.

  As I bounced to a stop on my bed, he reached for his pants on the floor and pulled a condom from the pocket.

  "Planning to get lucky, were you?" I asked with a good bit of attitude.

  "No. Just always prepared. Isn't that your Boy Scout motto?"

  As he slid his underwear down his legs and stepped out of them, sending his very generous hard length bobbing, I decided the last thing we should be discussing at this moment were the Boy Scouts.

  He rolled on the condom as he shot me a glance. "You might want to take off those pretty knickers, love. I can't guarantee I won't tear them."

  My heart—and parts lower—clenched at the knowledge he wanted me so badly he had no control of himself, but I did as asked and pulled off my underwear, then unhooked my bra.

  With an expression of admiration mixed with desire on his face, he kneeled on the edge of the bed and crawled between my legs.

  With his gaze locked onto mine, he slid inside.

  My mouth dropped open and I let out a gasp at the sensation.

  I watched him shudder above me, as if he felt the wave of pleasure bone deep the way I did. As if our joining sent the same electrical current up his spine that it had mine.

  He took one look at me, with my eyes struggling to remain open and my lips parted as I struggled to breathe, and began thrusting like a man on a mission.

  That was fine. I was a woman on a mission as well. That being to make up for too long of a stretch of celibacy.

  I was primed and ready. My muscles gripped his length as he plunged inside, tightening until another orgasm broke over me.

  As my cries got louder I realized I'd never be able to look the neighbors in the eye again, and I didn't care. I clutched at the man above me as he stroked into me, fast and hard until he groaned with a shudder and then collapsed over me.

  A short time later, when I'd finally begun to recover my breath, I glanced down at the beautiful naked man draped across me. "Tristan."

  "Mm
m?" His response as he rested his head on my breast was low and sexy as hell. The sound of a man who was sleepy and satisfied.

  I'd done that to him. I wouldn't mind doing it again. I hoped what I was about to confess didn't end any possibility of that.

  "I'm not really an operator."

  "I know, love." The hard muscles of his back flexed and moved beneath his skin as he trailed his fingers up and down the bare skin of my hip.

  "What? You do?" I propped myself up on one elbow to stare down at him. "When did you figure it out?"

  His perch disrupted now that I was half sitting up, he sighed and rolled onto his side, supporting his head on one hand as he looked up at me. "Pretty much the moment I asked if you were an experienced operator and you went pale."

  "But you let me go anyway?" I frowned. "I could have gotten us both killed."

  "No. Not with me there to guide you. And I know Zane Alexander. He wouldn't have hired you, even to answer his phones, if he didn't believe you were capable and that you could be trusted. I had complete faith in you."

  "Pfft. I'm glad you did because I sure didn't. It was a huge risk."

  "No, it wasn’t." He moved his hand down my stomach. "And if you're going to insist on talking, I suppose I might as well give up on sleep and do this instead."

  Sliding down the bed, Tristan spread my legs wide and settled between them.

  He’d found the one way to shut me up. As I remained entranced, captured by the warmth of his gaze, he lowered his head and proved that his sexy accent wasn't the only way his mouth could give me pleasure.

  TEN

  All things come to an end, including my perfect night with my mysterious man.

  I woke with the sun streaming through the window and an empty spot beside me in my bed. I glanced around the room and saw that my clothes were still where I'd tossed them in the heat of passion last night, but his were not. The engagement ring I'd taken off and left on the nightstand before falling asleep last night was also gone.

  The scent of fresh brewed coffee wafted through my closed bedroom door. That was enough to have me jumping out of bed and scavenging for something to pull on so I could get out to the kitchen and see him.

  A T-shirt was going to have to do. I yanked it out of my drawer and over my head, tugging it down my body as I moved toward the door and pulled it open.

  I held on to my hope of finding Tristan until I saw Trina in the kitchen, brow cocked high and a coffee mug poised half-way to her mouth.

  "Well, well, well. Good morning. I'm surprised to see you up so early, considering."

  Okay, so she'd come home at some point during the night and heard us. Not a surprise, I guess. This place was too small and the walls were a joke they were so thin. I had no hope of her not hearing.

  It didn't matter because the fact remained Tristan had left.

  I glanced toward the bathroom, my last ditch hope of where he might be, but the door was open and the room empty.

  Reconciling myself to the fact he'd slipped out while I slept, I moved to the kitchen counter.

  "What time did you get home?" I asked, taking the mug of coffee right out of her hand.

  I swallowed a sip. I actually preferred tea, but I was too tired, and now depressed, to make myself some. Coffee would do in a pinch.

  "I got home sometime after you tossed your good suit jacket on the floor outside your bedroom door and before the orgasm where you were shouting Oh God Oh God Oh God over and over again."

  I remembered that time. Tristan had a very talented mouth. My cheeks heated and I mumbled an apology before taking another swallow of coffee.

  "Don't apologize. Just tell me all about it." Trina's eyes widened as she leaned her elbows on the counter, cradling the new mug she'd just poured for herself.

  I couldn't help myself. I spilled the whole story. Well, all the good parts, like how gorgeous he was. The spy stuff I left out, simply saying he needed a date to an event, but Trina didn't know or care about my omissions. She was too happy to eat up the more personal details about my one-night stand.

  One-night stand. God, how I hated that term, but that's what this was. It saddened me to think I'd never see Tristan again.

  Or maybe I would . . .

  My gaze flew to the time on the microwave. "I’ve got to get to work."

  "No rest for the wicked." Trina's lips twitched.

  "Ha, ha." I shot her a glare as my mind spun.

  Would Tristan be at the office visiting Zane? There was a chance he might be. Either way, I really did have to get to work. It was already after eight.

  I spun toward the bathroom, taking the coffee with me. "I'm jumping in the shower."

  "Go ahead. I'm sure you need it." Trina had mumbled that last part but I'd heard it just fine.

  I flipped her the middle finger as I walked, fully intending to do my best to use up all the hot water.

  A little over an hour later, and a little bit late for work, I flew through the front door of GAPS. It had been unlocked when I arrived, which meant Zane had returned.

  In my haste to see if he was alone I didn't even take off my coat. I strode right to his office. He sat behind the desk I'd chosen, drinking from the coffee mug I'd purchased, all before I'd gone from office manager to field operative or whatever I'd been last night.

  "Good morning." He smiled. "I like what you've done with the place."

  Torn between disappointment over Tristan's absence and glowing pride over Zane's compliment, pride won out. Along with a good dose of insecurity. "Do you really like it?"

  "It's amazing. Seriously, Chelsea, I couldn't have done nearly as well on my own. I probably would have ordered everything new online from the same store. But what you’ve put together, the old stuff mixed with the new, is really incredible."

  "Thank you. I'm glad you like it."

  He nodded. "I do. More than like it. Although now you've put me in a tough situation."

  Uh, oh. Here it comes. The fallout. "I know. I'm sorry."

  Zane smiled. "I mean, here I hire this kick ass office manager with decorating talent to boot and now it turns out she's also good in the field. So tell me, does this mean you don't want to be office manager any longer? Because I'd really hate to lose you."

  I shook my head and stepped forward. "You're not going to lose me."

  He pressed his lips together. "You sure? After the excitement of going out on assignment, are you sure you won't be bored here in the office?"

  "No. I love working here. As office manager," I added, just to clarify. "But I wouldn't mind being in the field once in a while. If you needed me, that is."

  The excitement would be fun occasionally, but I was looking forward to a nice boring day of ordering office supplies today.

  "Good to hear. So I spoke with Tristan this morning . . ."

  My heart thundered at the mention of the man whose razor stubble I still felt scraping against my skin.

  Meanwhile, I realized Zane had left his sentence hanging. Did he know something or was he fishing? No way in hell was I going to offer up any information about my night with Tristan. Not to my new boss. Nuh, uh. No way.

  "Did you?" I said, playing coy.

  "I did. He had nothing but nice things to say about you."

  "Did he?" I had to work hard to control my smile at that information.

  Zane's lips twitched. "You're gonna do well here, Chelsea."

  "Thank you. I hope so."

  "Week one and you're out on an assignment with MI6. Amazing." He shook his head.

  "MI6?" My eyes popped wide. That's who Tristan worked for?

  "Yeah. He didn't tell you?" Zane asked.

  "No."

  "He just walked in here, asked you to come with him and you went? Without knowing who he was?"

  "No. Not exactly. I called you first and left a message. Then I called the other office looking for Jon but he wasn’t there." I sighed. "Yeah, I guess I did just go with him."

  Zane laughed. "Okay, maybe you're not
quite ready to be out in the field yet."

  "I know. You're right." I lowered my head. I had been stupid and lucky.

  He stood and walked around the desk. "Come on. Let’s take a little trip."

  "Where are we going?" I asked, whipping my gaze up from the carpet.

  "To the gun range. I'm going to see how you handle a weapon. I’ll loan you a gun to practice with until you get your own. You up for that?"

  I nodded. "Yes."

  "If you're serious about being out in the field, even occasionally, it's going to take work, you know. Training."

  "I realize that and I’m willing to put in the time."

  "Good." He turned toward the bookcase against the wall by the door. When he spun back, I saw he'd plucked out one book. He held it out to me. "Read this. It's outdated but it'll give you some basics."

  I glanced down at the cover.

  The CIA Guide to Fieldwork. My eyes widened. It wasn't Spying for Dummies but it was close enough.

  I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed the title when I’d transferred the books from the cardboard boxes to the shelves last week.

  "I will. Thank you."

  He smiled. "Don't thank me yet. That read is so dry it might catch fire."

  I laughed, giddy. "That's okay."

  "Ready to go to the range?"

  "Sure." I followed him toward the door, but stumbled to a stop when I saw a folded paper on my desk with my name written on it.

  I reached down and picked it up. My hands were shaking. It had to be from Tristan. I just knew it.

  While Zane paused with his hand on the doorknob, waiting for me, I unfolded the paper.

  My gaze flew to the bottom and my heart pounded at the large scrawling signature.

  Tristan.

  When Zane had said he'd talked to Tristan this morning, I'd assumed it had been on the phone, but it wasn't. He'd been here.

  My gaze moved back to the top of the oh-so-short note.

  Chelsea. Until we meet again, and have no doubt we will meet again. Tristan

  "Everything okay?" Zane asked.

  I glanced up, refolding the paper and smiling. "Yeah. Everything's great."

  ELEVEN