She turned around and surveyed the opulent room. “Very expensive.”
She winced. Would a rich-bitch say something like that?
He winked and continued searching the room. “Only the best for you, honey.”
She almost snorted at the sickening little endearments uttered in his deep, compelling voice. No, this man would whisper sexual things in woman’s ear, and his endearments would be impassioned and sincere. She tried not to assume much about a person until she’d gotten to know them, but Zane possessed a banked energy she couldn’t quite understand. An agent for SIA would be the best, she figured, that the government could offer. Somehow she knew, with gut-wrenching certainty, that he would make love with the same fire and aptitude.
“It’s clear.” He slipped the credit card-sized device back into his wallet. “You can talk freely now.”
Keira said, “You could have warned me before we got on the elevator. I suppose that kiss was a way of shutting me up?”
“Exactly.”
He said it so dispassionately that she decided not to let that cursory, but blinding kiss mean anything to her. “There are other ways of letting me know things. Kissing wasn’t necessary.”
He shoved his wallet into a back pocket of his jeans. A quick, wicked smile passed over his lips. “Yeah, but it was a lot of fun.”
Exasperated beyond words, she tossed her weatherproof fanny pack on the bed. “Have you ever found bugs in here?”
“Other than the crawling, multi-legged kind, no. But it’s a precaution I have to take every time I come back to the suite.”
Zane crossed the room until he reached the open closet. On the top shelf, next to extra pillows, a medium-sized safe was tucked in the corner. He whirled the combination dial. “We’re a wealthy couple, so our rich tastes have to be in line with what Ludwig Haan expects. There’s something else we need to complete the picture.”
Ludwig Haan. Her stomach went a bit queasy, adding to the insidious pounding in her head. She didn’t like the reminder of what she faced.
“You think he has spies in the hotel and bugs in the room paying attention to whether we seem appropriately well-off?” she asked.
Another clicking noise assured Zane’s success with the combination lock. He opened the door and retrieved a red velvet ring box. He offered it to her in the palm of his hand. “I know he has spies, but I’m not sure who they are. That’s why we need to play it safe at all times.”
She stared at the box in his hand like it contained all the secrets of Pandora. When she didn’t take the small container, he moved closer.
As if he proposed to a woman he loved, he opened the box and held it open so she could see the contents. “Will you marry me?”
Snuggled in white velvet, the two rings in the box defined lavish wealth. A wide platinum band held a radiant-cut emerald-shaped diamond. Nestled on the shank on each side of the diamond were two princess-cut diamonds. A matching wedding band featured three radiant-cut emerald-shaped diamonds, a little smaller but no less beautiful.
Unable to resist, she reached in the box and took them out. “How many carats is this?”
“The engagement ring is six carats. The wedding band is four carats. Put on the engagement ring.”
She slipped the engagement ring on her left hand, her heart picking up the pace as she wriggled her finger and smiled. She expected such a big ring to look funny on her long, elegant fingers, but it didn’t. The diamonds sparkled with unparallel brilliance.
“It’s a perfect fit.” She frowned at him. “How did you know my ring size?”
“Come on, think about it.”
She didn’t have to think about it for long. The SIA had done its homework. She couldn’t have expected anything less.
“Don’t worry.” He closed his hand around the small container and it disappeared in his big palm. “The diamonds are highest grade rough cubic zirconia. The ring is platinum-clad white gold. Even the SIA wouldn’t put out that kind of cash for a real diamond ring. You’ll wear the engagement ring when we go out tonight.”
Tired and becoming more impatient, she rubbed her forehead. “Why is there a wedding band to go with it?”
His mouth curved in one of those sinfully rich grins, intoxicating and sensual. “Because we’re getting married on Ludwig Haan’s estate.”
Chapter Three
Zane watched Keira’s eyes go wide and her mouth form a circle of total surprise.
“You can’t be serious,” she said, her voice hushed, almost strained with disbelief.
“It’s part of the plan.” He brushed a stray hair back from her face. “We’ll be married at his estate the day after tomorrow.”
He loved catching her off guard and seeing her fight for a way out of this complicated situation. Maybe he should feel guilty for putting her through the wringer, but he didn’t. One thing he knew for certain, he didn’t like the way her innocent act ate away at his resolve to remain cool and detached. He completed dangerous missions twelve months out of the year because he could do it with skill no questions asked. This woman threatened his equilibrium in ways he didn’t understand one hundred percent.
He flashed back to his first sight of her amber eyes in Egypt and the close body contact they’d shared during a life-threatening moment. His reaction had been fierce, and when he’d seen her in the airport her subtle beauty had arrested him again.
Unfortunately he’d spent way too much time daydreaming about her flashing eyes and stubborn, full lips. He’d read a lot about her since he’d left Egypt and returned to Puerto Azul. Few women of his acquaintance captured his attention like her. Sure, he knew her vital statistics; hair the warm color between brown and blonde, a shade he’d call honey, her height about five feet six inches, her eyes gut-wrenchingly beautiful amber brown.
He’d even read details in her dossier most wouldn’t consider important. She knitted. The irritating woman knitted, for God’s sake. He’d never pictured her sitting in a chair like a granny, smiling and designing booties or a sweater. She made candles, loved to read romance and science fiction novels. He could picture the sci-fi novels but not the romance. She seemed hard-edged in a way, too aloof to read romance.
But he only needed to know one thing to understand this mission.
Keira conspired with her grandfather to steal from the Chesterham Museum, plain and simple.
He moved toward her until he stood way too close, drawn by that intoxicating, light scent that surrounded her. He couldn’t keep away.
Irritation made her eyes turn golden with fire. She paced away across the room, then swung on him like a tigress. “This is ridiculous. So we play a little kissy-face for the sake of the cover. How can we go through with a real marriage?”
He shrugged. “Easy. We fake it. Haan will have a priest there to perform the marriage.”
“Priest?”
“Most of the country is Catholic. Haan was brought up Protestant, but when he asked me what denomination we needed, I said Catholic. Made things easier and—” he shrugged, “—I’m Catholic.”
She sighed but didn’t speak, clearly disturbed.
“We’ll have to sign a real marriage certificate, but it’s not valid in the United States.”
Her frown went deeper and she put up one finger to make a point. “Don’t get any ideas about playing house, Zane. Besides, I’m not Catholic.”
“And?”
“Well, if this priest asks—”
“He won’t. Believe me, if Haan requests him to be there for the ceremony, he’ll do it, regardless of whether he believes in the sanctity of the event or not. When Haan asks a person to do something, there are no questions asked.”
“Including you?”
“Within reason,” he said and then switched gears. “There are a few things we need to make sure of before we meet Haan for the first time.”
She rubbed her eyes. “Such as?”
“Details a couple would know about each other.”
“Like favorite color and zodiac sign?” Her mouth twisted into a sarcastic smile.
“Along those lines.” He walked to the big window and peered down at the bustle below in the street. “We’ll need an intimate working knowledge of each other.”
Disbelief clouded her gaze. “In two days?”
“In two days.”
She went silent. When she didn’t say anything more, he turned back to her. Worry darkened those pretty eyes. “I don’t know if…”
He saw her distress, so the first sign of tears filling her eyes and pain clutched at his gut. Damn, he couldn’t stand to see a woman cry. It always hit his soft spot, something he could never admit to having in the first place.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She inhaled deeply, as if aware she’d let her guard down. “Nothing.” Fire returned to her eyes. She put her hands on her hips. “Why do we have to get married in the first place?”
“Because it gives us more credibility. The fact we will go along with a Puerto Azul wedding ceremony shows we’re serious.”
She covered her eyes with one hand for a moment, shielding him from the tigress inside. Then she glowered. “All this just to convince a thug we’re his good buddies? How did you get so snugly with a grade-A jerk like Ludwig Haan? How do I know you’re not a double agent?”
Admiration and amusement hit him at the same time and he laughed. “If you don’t trust me, then call Mac Tudor. He’ll vouch for me. I was even a groomsman in his wedding. We’re good friends from way back.”
She seemed to consider the idea. “That doesn’t answer my question. So you’ve spent six months here and all of a sudden Haan trusts you?”
He shook his head. “He doesn’t trust a soul on earth and that’s probably what has kept him alive so long. A man like him doesn’t have true friends, only enemies.”
One of her well-shaped brows, honey-brown like the rest of her hair, tweaked up. Skepticism continued to cloud her eyes. He decided not to give her too long to think.
“Trust my judgment where this is concerned, Keira. I’ve been an SIA agent for ten years.”
Instead of answering she went pale and put her hand to her temple. “Is there any bottled water around here?”
Concern spiked through him and he came toward her. “You all right?”
“I’m dehydrated. I should have been drinking water from the moment I got off the plane but—never mind. My skull is pounding.”
Immediately he went for the small fridge and brought out a tall bottle of water. Then he took her by the arm and led her toward the bed. “Come on. Sit down.”
After uncapping the water, he handed it to her. Clear pain in her eyes and the moisture beading on her forehead worried him. She gulped the water.
“Hey, drink that slowly.” He reached out and touched her forehead. She was warm and moist. “You’d better lie down and take it easy. The last thing we need is for you to get heat exhaustion or heat stroke. How long have you been feeling like this?”
“Since before the plane landed. This always happens to me when I travel. I’ll be fine after I take an aspirin and drink an entire bottle of water.” She reached for her purse on the nightstand and extracted a bottle of painkillers. After taking one, she sighed.
“You’re an archaeologist. How do you manage to participate in digs if this sort of thing happens?”
She quirked that disapproving eyebrow one more time. “Most of the digs I’ve been on have been in cooler climates like Britain or Ireland. Besides, it doesn’t happen when I’m on digs, only air travel. Don’t worry, I’m not going to become a liability.”
He saw it in her eyes, a desire to say something sarcastic. He hardened his reaction to her and went into command mode. “Lie down and rest. I’ll be out of the room for awhile. You’ll probably want a shower before we go to dinner anyway.”
She took another slow sip of water. “What’s the dress code for the restaurant?”
“Tropical but well-dressed.”
A tiny panic flared in her eyes. “No one informed me I’d need a fancy wardrobe. I didn’t bring anything like that with me.”
Fighting a sudden urge to reassure her, he strolled toward the front door and said, “Don’t worry. Look in the walk-in closet in the bathroom. You’ll find everything you need there.”
As he left, he closed the door with a sigh. This wouldn’t be the easiest assignment he’d ever completed.
* * * * *
Keira crept along the jungle near the base of a high plateau, the sounds of rainforest life all around her. In the high canopy the insistent chirp of birds echoed. A monkey chattered and she thought she heard the distant rumble of a big cat’s growl. A profusion of colors exploded all around her, from the brilliant reds, whites, and yellows of orchids, to the deep jade of ferns and lianas. Greenery enfolded her with suffocating intensity until she felt as if the jungle pressed against her in a deliberate attempt to intimidate. Sweat beaded her forehead and her whole body ached from exhaustion. Her arms and legs felt like rubber, her mouth rusty from thirst and her stomach hollow from hunger. They couldn’t stop and eat. The werejaguar threatened close behind, his endless pursuit guaranteeing their death.
Wait. Zane wasn’t behind her. She whirled in fright. The jungle came closer, the leaves animating in a weird caricature. Oh God. Oh God. Fear sizzled up and down her body, chasing away the high temperature and replacing it with cold dread.
Keira jerked awake, the dream fresh in her mind. She blinked and shivered as her body adjusted to reality. She thought she heard someone moving around in the bathroom.
She’d pulled the thick curtains before she lay down, and murkiness covered the room. Elemental fear started a slow, thick assent into her bloodstream. She knew, deep down, that stress could cause bizarre reactions to mundane situations. At the same time, she couldn’t seem to stop her reaction. She lay frozen until she heard cheerful whistling. Would a person intent on mayhem whistle?
“‘Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to work I go…’” She heard the lyrics in the whistling, even though the male voice didn’t sing the words.
Unsure whether to laugh or be terrified, she eased off the bed and turned on the bedside lamp. She held her breath for a second. No one leapt out of the shadows, and she took a deep breath to clear away fuzzy thinking. She could hear the shower running and the bathroom fan. A pair of big black lace-up boots sat on the floor by the dresser, as well as the shirt and jeans Zane wore earlier. Relief eased into her, but with a slowness that proved tension still held her prisoner. She rubbed the back of her neck. Damn it, she needed something to chase away the stress.
At least her headache had disappeared and other than high-strung tension across her shoulders, she felt healthy. She could use a good stiff jolt of caffeine right about now and headed for the coffeemaker. After she started the java, she took in the intoxicating scent and hoped the mere smell would awaken her.
The shower shut off. He escalated the singing, this time a song in Spanish she couldn’t understand. A tingling darted into her belly at the melting, sexy quality of his voice. She floated in a dream world, lured by the melody and the passion she heard in each word. When the bathroom door came open with a click, she started. Steam exited the doorway and he stepped out right behind it. Masculine aftershave or cologne, musk, and a touch of leather, touched her nose. She’d smelled the warm, enticing scent on him earlier. Not too intrusive, but enough to drive her bananas and make her want to get closer.
With a big white towel knotted around his waist, Zane looked more delicious than any half-naked man she’d seen before. Even semi-wet the man managed to ooze danger. She’d never been in the presence of a man so flawlessly proportioned. With his hair slicked back his features seemed a little sharper. He’d shaved off the encroaching five o’clock shadow. Water beaded on his broad shoulders and down over the bulging contours of biceps and forearms, the highly conditioned muscles of a man who takes care of himself and works out. His chest…well, his che
st made her mouth go dry. This man was, as they say, cut.
Dark hair fanned over his pecs, then narrowed down over a defined six-pack stomach and into the towel hovering low on his hips. Her glance darted over the towel and she realized either he’d been thinking of sex while in the shower, or her mere perusal of his assets caused him to get excited. The towel tented right over his groin.
He combed his wet hair, and mischief flickered in his eyes. “Hi, Sleeping Beauty. You look like you feel a lot better.”
“I do, thanks. The headache is gone.”
“I figured I’d crash around the room enough to wake you, but you slept like the dead.”
She dragged her fingers through her mussed hair. “I felt like the dead.”
“That coffee I smell?”
“Would you like some?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
She couldn’t even be annoyed at him for calling her Sleeping Beauty. Her red blood cells continued to react to the sight of obviously aroused delectable male flesh. If he loitered any longer in that towel she would forget her own first name. For distraction, she turned and started pouring the dark brew into a ceramic coffee cup. The low light gave the whole encounter an intimacy she didn’t want.
Zane came up behind her and stood so close she found her brain short-circuiting. If he would back away, maybe she could get some air into her lungs. No such luck, the damned man moved in until he almost touched her.
He grasped the mug and looked down on her. His heat enveloped her, just like the jungle in the nightmare. She frowned as she thought about the clarity and force of the dream.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
For self-preservation she grasped her mug and walked away. After taking a tentative sip of the liquid, she set it on a coaster on the coffee table. “I had a horrible dream that we were in the jungle around the plateau. A werejaguar was following us. I turned around and realized you weren’t there.”
Special Investigations Agency: Primordial Page 5
