Finn grinned. "There's an orchestra playing in there. Let's go listen."
"Probably the Chicago Symphony." Mia began walking, letting Finn tug her along. He'd been staring at the stage, his whole face smiling. "They practice there in the afternoon sometimes. Before a performance."
"Let's walk past them," he said, herding her toward the stage.
It was on the way to their meeting place with Pete. Kind of, anyway. "Yeah. Okay."
A minute later, they were standing next to the wall on the left side of the stage. People were scattered in the seats in front of the orchestra, enjoying the impromptu concert. As they listened, Mia let her gaze wander over the crowd. She froze when she spotted the woman who'd followed them earlier. She had a camera in her hand, a camera-carrying friend beside her, and they were heading right for Mia and Finn.
"I think we've been made," she said quietly. "Two women, on our right, heading toward us."
He glanced at them without moving his head. "I see them."
"Through that door." Mia nodded toward the door closer to the stage, holding a sign for the restrooms. She tried to remember the floorplan, but it had been a few years since she'd been to the park. "I'm pretty sure there's another way out."
Finn wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and they walked a little too fast toward the doors. Once inside, they hurried down a small ramp and found themselves in a corridor with the restrooms and a set of ascending stairs.
"Those stairs lead to the park next to the pavilion," she said, recognizing where they were. "Go up."
They ran up the steps and burst into the sunlight again. Mia blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the brightness. The path that led to their pick-up spot was straight ahead. But she didn't want to take it. If the women had followed them, she and Finn would be out in the open. Vulnerable.
The women were probably just fans, judging by the way they were clutching cameras. But two people squealing, holding cameras, were a magnet for other curious people. Better to avoid that scene if possible.
"Behind the Pavilion," she said, pointing toward their right.
As they hurried around the curved back of the Pavilion, they passed a couple on a blanket, making out. A little further on, another couple was pressed against the metal of the band shell, mouths clinging and hands roaming.
"Looks like we've found Lover's Lane," Finn muttered.
"Who knew?" she whispered back.
The couple against the metal broke their kiss and stared at her and Finn. She continued along the curve of the building, then pulled him against the side. "Pretend like you're kissing me," she said. "So they stop watching us and get back to what they were doing."
Finn eased her against the cool metal of the pavilion, then bent his head closer. His eyes were the clear, rich green of moss in a sun-dappled forest. Sunlight glinted off his honey-colored hair, making the lighter streaks stand out. His scent swirled around her, something that smelled of the ocean, mixed with the clean, musky sweat of a warm day.
"Should I actually kiss you?" he murmured into her ear. "Like I mean it? Or do you want me to nibble at your neck and your ear? Play with you, get you worked up a little, before moving on to the main event?"
The metal against her back must not be as cool as she'd thought, because heat swept over her. "Whatever's going to make that other couple stop watching us."
"So I shouldn't bring my A game, then." He bent closer, his breath tickling her ear. She held her breath. But his lips barely touched her.
"Why…why not your A game?" God! She wasn't sure if his mouth even touched her neck and she was having trouble stringing her words together.
"'Cause then they'd watch. Looking for tips, you know? From a master."
She wanted to shove him away, but found her hands tangled in his shirt instead. "You are such a jerk. An arrogant, conceited a…ass." She inhaled on a gasp as he tugged on her earlobe.
"Relax, Mia," he murmured, his mouth too close to her neck. "Not doing my best work here. Nothing to get all," he sucked gently at a tendon in her neck, "excited about."
She was trembling. From barely more than the brush of his lips. He'd broken down her defenses with only his breath on her neck and his low, intoxicating words. She'd surrendered to him with nothing more than a whimper.
Time to bring her A game.
Letting go of his shirt, she slid her arms around his waist. Played with the waistband of his ridiculous khakis. His loose belt left plenty of room to slide one finger beneath the fabric of his pants.
He stilled, his mouth unmoving on her neck. Ignoring the urge to tell him to do that again, she slid the rest of her hand beneath his waistband. Then her other hand.
Maybe she'd been too quick to dismiss these baggy pants.
His shorts were silky soft beneath her fingertips. She slid her hands lower and cupped his muscular ass. The ass she'd noticed this morning, nicely displayed by his jeans. Squeezing gently, she pressed herself closer.
Smiled against his skin. She'd managed to shut him up. He wasn't being so cocky now.
Except in the good way. She pressed closer, humming into his neck. The pressure of him, right where she needed it, sent dark pulses of arousal shooting through her veins and strummed every nerve. The only sounds he made were tiny gasps when her hands drifted lower on his rear.
Then he came to life. "Okay," he growled into her ear. "A game it is."
He slid his hands up her back, interrupting her 'getting to know you' visit with his ass. Then, fisting one hand in her hair, he tipped her head back and closed his mouth over hers.
He wasn't gentle, or tender, or sweet. He sucked on her lower lip until she opened with a gasp, then swept his tongue over the sensitive inside surface. He tasted tart and lemony, with the sweetness buried deep, like the lemonade they'd had earlier. His tongue stroked hers lazily, but his hips rocked against hers in a matching rhythm. One of them moaned. It might have been her.
As he kissed her, his hand shifted from her hair to her back, pressing her tight against him. His other hand drifted lower, learning the curves of her rear. Dancing too close to dangerous ground. She felt his smile when her tiny murmur of need escaped into his mouth. Vibrated between them.
"You like games, Mia?" His voice was dark with desire, and he closed his teeth around her lower lip and tugged. "I like games myself." He slid his hand beneath her jacket and tugged hard on her shirt. Pulled the tails out of her pants.
She jerked when his warm hand slid over her bare back. His fingertips were slightly callused, and their rasp against her skin had her swallowing another moan.
She surged into him, needing to be closer. She grabbed his shirt again, sending the buttons flying so she could feel his bare skin against hers.
He shuddered against her, then eased his mouth away from hers. Brought his hands around and grabbed her hands, moved them away from his shirt. Pressed tiny kisses down her neck, sucked gently on her collarbones, dipped his tongue into the hollow between them.
Then rested his forehead against hers. "Wow," he whispered.
What the hell had she done? She'd let herself get lost in that…that distraction. Let herself think it was real. Lost all sense of her surroundings. Ten stalkers could have been closing in on them, and she wouldn't have known.
She pushed him away, hard. As he stumbled backward, she tucked her shirt back into her pants. Adjusted her jacket. Put a hand to her mouth.
To wipe away his taste?
Or to hold it closer?
She closed her eyes and shook her head to clear it.
"Good distraction," she managed to say. "Looks like it worked. I don't see those two women."
Finn smoothed down the lapels of her jacket, spread his hand over her abdomen for a long moment. Then he took her hand and twined their fingers together.
The fine tremor of his hand twitched against hers, and she tightened her grip on him. At least she wasn't the only one whose hands were shaking.
"What are we going to do abou
t this, Mia?" he murmured.
"Do about what?" She needed a moment to get her brain working again.
"This polite, rational discussion we just had. Jesus, Mia, what do you think?"
"It wasn't real. It was a ruse. A way to hide from the women following us."
"Not real? Really?" He spun her around to face him. "I didn't think you were a coward, Mia Donovan. Yeah, whatever it was that exploded between us surprised the hell out of me, too. But that…that kiss was as real as it gets."
"We'll talk about this later." When she had time to settle herself down. Think up a reasonable explanation. "Right now, we need to find Pete and get out of here."
"You're right. This isn't the place to have this discussion." He surged forward, hurrying past the couple on the blanket at the end of the pavilion and towing her along behind him.
When they burst out from the space at the back of the pavilion, some of the blood had returned to her brain. She yanked on his arm, muttering, "Slow down. Running like that, everyone's going to look at us."
He eased into a trot, then slowed to a walk. Mia couldn't look at him. She searched the street for Pete's car, finding it idling at the curb. The car behind Pete's, stopped because the traffic had hemmed him in, laid on his horn. Pete's car didn't budge.
Mia wasn't even scanning the crowd. All she wanted was the relative safety of the car. She began walking faster, and Finn wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
"Slow down," he said, his voice softer than she'd expected it to be. "It's not the end of the world. So we made out a little. We had a good reason."
She could allow herself to believe that, but the truth was, that 'good reason' had been smoldering between them all morning. The explosion when they'd finally come together had blown reason to bits.
When they reached the car, she yanked open the door and practically pushed Finn inside. Then she got in behind him, slammed the door and told Pete, "Move."
Pete glanced over the seat at them and, without saying a word, raised the partition between them.
Leaving Mia alone with Finn in that little bubble of privacy.
Day one of this assignment. Her professionalism shot to hell.
It was going to be a long three weeks.
Chapter 8
The heavy thud of the car door slamming vibrated through the car and echoed the hard thump of his heart against his ribs. What the hell had just happened?
His body still coiled tight with arousal, Finn tried to steady himself, flexing his fingers as he sat behind Pete. At the other end of the bench seat, Mia stared at her lap, her hands gripping her knees. Her deep, ragged breaths filled the silence in the idling car. She was fighting to regain control, as well.
He shouldn't have looked at her. Should have clamped his hands over his ears to stop the sound of her rapid breathing.
Knowing she was struggling, too, was so not helping.
He could slide over to her, cup her face in his hands and continue the kiss that had been interrupted. His body was screaming at him to do just that. And, guessing by the way she huddled in the corner of the car, eyes closed, back rigidly straight, her body was telling her the same thing.
Not here.
Not in the car, in front of Pete. When they only had a short drive to get to the hotel. He wanted far more time than that with Mia.
So he ran through yesterday's baseball box scores in his head. Called up an image of his seventh-grade science teacher, the one with the mole on the side of her nose and bad breath. Imagined his mother's reaction if she found out he wanted to sleep with his bodyguard.
No. That wouldn't help. His mother would adore Mia. Mia was sexy, smart and wouldn't take Finn's shit.
Even better, she wasn’t from Hollywood. Had no ties to show business. His mother would be cheering him on.
He shifted on the seat, closing his eyes. He had to get out of this car and walk into the hotel. Soon. He needed to be in control by then.
He called up that final scene with Gemma. Pictured what he'd seen. The words they'd thrown at each other. The secret, shameful relief he'd felt.
He took another, steadier breath. Yeah. Thinking about Gemma? A mental cold shower. Worked a lot faster than a real one.
Pete finally pulled away from the curb, and in moments, Millenium Park disappeared behind them. Thank God. He loved Frank Gehry's work, but he didn't need to see that bandshell again today. The sight of it would set off a stream of memories of what they'd done against the steel back of the damned Pritzker Pavilion.
Set off more than memories.
Mia cleared her throat from the other side of the car. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?" Her voice sounded a little lower than normal. A little throaty. She hadn't looked at him.
A picture of her, eyes closed, pressed against the smooth steel of the bandshell, hidden from the crowds, flashed in front of him. The memories he'd been trying to suppress rose to the surface. Refused to go away.
The dark, spicy taste of her, kissing him as desperately as he'd been kissing her, lingered in his mouth.
The feel of her hands, slipping inside the waistband of his pants, made him curl his fingers into his palms.
His 'think about anything but Mia' program wasn't working.
"No plans." He wanted to fall with her onto that huge bed in his room. Spend the rest of the day and all night making love with her. "I'll probably go over my script. There will be phone calls. Nothing exciting."
"Okay. Day's been pretty ex…" She sucked in a breath and her face turned red.
Too late. He had no trouble filling in the blanks.
He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Boring rest of the day," he said.
"Good. Boring is good." She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "I'll have some questions for you. We can talk whenever it's convenient."
"Okay. Yeah. Um, after we get back in the room. We'll talk then."
"Great." She didn't look at him. Instead, she pulled out her notebook and began making notes. Was she actually capable of thinking rationally right now? Or was she doing a masterful acting job?
"What are you writing, Officer?"
Her throat rippled once. Then again. "Making a list of questions I need to ask you," she said without looking up.
"About what happened at the park today?"
Her hand froze, and her knuckles turned white around the pen. "No." She lifted her head and finally looked at him. "I know exactly what happened at the park today. We saw the Bean. Ate a hot dog. Drank some lemonade. Walked through the gardens. Had to hide from a couple of fans who'd spotted you. Typical bodyguard stuff."
"'Hiding from my fans'? That's what you're going with? You were just doing your job?" He narrowed his eyes. Her voice had gotten steadier as she went through the list. Until the last one. Then it had wobbled a little.
Which was good. She was trying hard to hide it, but Mia was as rattled as he was. As off-balance.
He wanted her to stay that way. He was pretty sure it had been as real for Mia as it was for him. But after Gemma, he didn't trust his instincts.
If she was off-balance, maybe he could surprise some honest answers out of her.
The car stopped with a tiny jerk. They were back at the loading dock at the hotel. They'd left only that morning, but Finn's universe had tilted in the past eight hours.
Before Finn could right himself, Pete had opened Mia's door, then come around and opened Finn's. "I'm not sure if we'll need the car later today, Pete. I'll let you know."
"You got it, boss."
Pete closed the car doors, then backed the car out and disappeared around the corner.
Leaving Finn and Mia alone.
He turned and walked toward Mia, who held the heavy hotel door open. They kept at least a foot between them, enough that no body parts could accidentally touch. Like a pair of boxers after the gong sounded, they went to opposite corners when they stepped into the elevator.
Mia squared her shoulders as the elevator approached their floor
, then stepped out quickly when the doors opened. Following her, Finn saw that the hall was empty. Of course it was. Tourists would be outside, enjoying the city. Business people would be at work.
He slid the key card into its slot and opened the door, letting Mia enter first. She walked from room to room, checking the closets, the bathrooms, under the furniture. As she knelt beside the couch, the black fabric of her pants clung to her ass, reminding him again how it had felt beneath his hands.
He began to reach for her again, then snatched his hands away and headed for the minibar. "You want a drink?"
"Iced tea would be great," she said, crouching near a chair and peering beneath it. She headed into her bedroom, emerging a few moments later without her jacket. Still wearing her gun.
His gaze slid away from it to focus on the white button-down shirt she wore. It was snug on her slim body, as if it had been tailored for her. It cupped her breasts and revealed the hint of a darker bra through the fabric.
What would that bra look like? Black? Navy blue? Lace? Satin? A combination of both?
His hand shook slightly as he held out the can of iced tea. She took it gingerly, making sure their fingers didn't touch. Then she sat on the couch and pulled out her notebook.
"Mind if I ask you some questions?" she said.
"Not at all." He sat at the other end of the couch. "As long as I can ask you some first."
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, then straightened and swung around to face him. She had guts, he'd give her that. She had to know what he wanted to talk about. Instead of avoiding it, though, she was willing to tackle it head-on. "Shoot."
"What happened behind that pavilion today?"
A pink flush crept up her neck and onto her face, and her fingers closed tightly around the notebook. But she didn't look away. "We were trying to avoid a scene that would have drawn attention and led to an even bigger scene." Her voice was calm, but her right knee jiggled. "We did what we had to do to blend in with everyone else."
"That's it?" he asked, incredulous. "You're going to call that kiss part of your job and move on?"
"What do you want me to say, Finn?" She leaned closer, the pink turning to darker red slashes on her cheekbones. "That I forgot my job? That I wasn't paying attention to what was going on around us? That I didn't see anyone but you?" She inhaled sharply, as if she hadn't intended to say that last part.
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