One-Click Buy: March 2009 Harlequin Blaze

by Alison Kent

  She’d prove to her sister and to her family that she wasn’t as ludicrous as they all thought she was. She could be as serious as her sister. All she had to do was put her mind to it. She wasn’t without skills. Persuading a client to trust her with fuchsia in their house took talent. “I haven’t yet agreed to do this,” Allie piped in, rubbing at her wrists.

  “You aren’t even remotely qualified to do this. It’s a suicide mission.”

  “Then why did you agree to train me?”

  “Watchdog is going through with this plan with or without me. You might have half a chance at survival if I train you.”

  She hoped he was as good as Watchdog thought he was. She was completely out of her element. “I can understand why you don’t have much faith in me.”

  “Faith has nothing to do with it. It has to do with skill and expertise. This isn’t going to be as easy as matching chairs and a sofa.”

  She raised her chin and said, “That, actually, can be very difficult.”

  “But the furniture isn’t trying to kill you,” the director said.

  “That’s true. It’s not.”

  “You’re putting a civilian in danger and glossing it over like it’s a walk in the park. I think if Allie is going to do this job, you should be straightforward with her about what she’s getting herself into.”

  “Mark, Drew is right,” Gillian said. “Drew, she’s in your hands.”

  Drew turned to Allie. “All we’re missing is your answer, Allie. But before you agree, I want to make sure you understand that this is very dangerous. Lose-your-life dangerous.”

  “Will you be with me every step of the way?”

  “I will. I promise. Are you in or out?”

  Her stomach knotted with tension. She thought about her sister’s hard work, the stake the government had in the operation already, and the chance to make a difference. “I’m in.”

  “Do you require backup, Drew?” Gillian asked.

  Without taking his unnerving gaze off her, he said, “Thad Michaels, Leila Mendez and Damian Frost. I’ll also need the file on Gina Callahan, Callie’s undercover persona and any other intel you deem useful.” He finally turned his gaze away from her and Allie felt as if she’d been released from a choke-hold.

  “Done.” Gillian smiled. “One of these days, I’ll convince you to work for Watchdog, Drew.” She turned to Mark and said, “Keep me posted on the progress.” Finally, she walked over to Allie and offered her a beautifully manicured hand.

  Allie took it.

  “Thank you for agreeing to help us, Allie. Your courage is admirable. You’re in very good hands with Drew.”

  Allie smiled. She couldn’t help it. But she didn’t know how good his hands were.

  Mark’s handshake was a bit more brusque. “Welcome to Watchdog. We have a plane to catch back to Washington. Drew, keep us posted.” They both left the room.

  Allie’s focus remained on Drew. This would be a chance to prove to herself and to everyone that she wasn’t a screw-up. She had a successful business, after all, even though her mother called it ‘Allie’s quaint interior-design whim.’ They didn’t trust that she would stick with it. She had Lily’s place to finish, but she could multitask. A little secret-agent stuff here, a little design stuff there. It would work out.

  Drew leaned back against the wall as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Allie wasn’t used to having her heart race just because a man looked at her, but she’d never had anybody look at her the way this undercover operative did.

  It wouldn’t be a smart move to get involved with him—even if the opportunity arose. That was crazy. She didn’t know a thing about him, except that he was the complete opposite of everything she had ever known. A warrior. The real thing, a soldier who had put his life on the line for what he believed in. God, country—she wasn’t sure.

  She so wished with every ounce of her being that she could get on a plane and fly to France to be with her sister. But if Callie couldn’t complete the mission for Watchdog because of her injuries, then the least Allie could do would be to help here where it seemed she was needed. It was ironic that Callie, the responsible one, risked her life and Allie, the impulsive one, did nothing more daring than combine colors.

  Suddenly she felt weary, the effects of the chloroform and the fear sending fatigue throughout her whole body. She needed sleep.

  Drew’s hawkish gaze felt like a hard caress.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “Get you trained,” his voice was clipped, every line of his body showing that he knew his work was cut out for him—to train her as an undercover operative to carry out the mission Watchdog needed done.

  “Your skepticism doesn’t help. You don’t even know me.”

  “I know you. You go to work, pay your taxes and socialize with family and friends. You laugh, play and live. That’s the bright side.”

  “And you’re the dark?”

  “There’s always a flip side, Allie. I started my career in the military and I’ve been to Afghanistan and Iraq. I live on the dark side. And once you go there, there’s no turning back.”

  “The dark side gives no quarter. Got it,” Allie quipped as she turned toward the door. Maybe it was the fatigue or the effects of the drug he’d used to send her into unconsciousness, but her flippant words seemed to hang in the dim, cold room, like a challenge.

  There was no sound, no warning. One minute she was moving, the next a steely arm wrapped around her waist. Before she could even register the hold he had her in, he pressed her up against the room’s wall with his whole body, immobilizing her.

  “This is not a game, Allie.” His voice was soft and gravelly, and very close to her ear, his breath blowing across her skin as he spoke. “Your quips and off-the-cuff remarks can’t hide the fact that you’re most definitely out of your element.”

  Adrenaline washed into her veins on a river of both a tiny bit of fear and a whole lot of excitement.

  “You set me off with your forceful attitude.” Allie closed her eyes and took a breath in an attempt to stay calm. He was starting to make her angry.

  “You’d better develop a hard-hitting attitude, Allie.” He spoke so quietly and she had to strain to hear him. She focused on his breathing to slow down her own.

  It wasn’t going to happen. Not as long as her heart was racing, totally at odds with the slow, steady beat of his. She felt its cadence against her back. She was agitated, but he wasn’t. He was calm, holding her, but—she realized—not crushing her, not hurting her. It was very effective, what he was doing, and made pathetic the one self-defense class she’d taken. He had immobilized her in one second flat. Caught between his body and the wall was like being in a warm, sexy vise. She felt the chill and the smoothness of the paint against her palms, but against her back was heat and plenty of it.

  “You know, Drew, I’ve kinda had enough cloak and dagger for one day. I haven’t eaten in twenty-four hours and it’s close to midnight. You said something about food. As fun as this is, I’m wondering if fries come with the intimidation.”

  He didn’t reply, but he moved, just enough to allow her to turn her head toward him. Adrenaline surged into her system again, only this time it didn’t have anything to do with fear or intimidation. His face was so close to hers, his eyes translucent blue and deep-set beneath black lashes and the straight dark lines of his eyebrows. His hair was a bit long, increasing his sex appeal. He had a scar on his neck, faint against his deeply tanned skin, telling her that he wasn’t kidding about walking on the dark side. His body was very hard against hers. She could feel the cool, steely ridge of his gun pressing at the base of her spine. Drew was now armed and dangerous. He was making her feel threatened on two levels. This mission she’d agreed to was, oh, so real and Drew was, oh, so irresistible.

  A brief smile curved his mouth and his eyes closed for a fraction of a second as if he was trying to regain his control.

  “You are the most exasperating…woman.”


  “My quotient for exasperating climbs when I’m really hungry. So, unless you want to get into my pants again, could you back up?”

  “Get into your…” he trailed off.

  “We’re not going to pretend, are we?”

  He slanted her a questioning glance. “Pretend?”

  “As in the first time we met, when I melted all over you like warm chocolate.”

  He stepped away and she keenly felt his absence. She shivered.

  “I thought you were Callie.”

  More cold water and this directly in her face. She winced and felt her face flush. A sickening knot of tension tightened in her stomach. Without anything to do with her hands, she rubbed at her wrists. “Is there a bathroom I could use?”

  “Out the door and two doors to your right.”

  Allie walked past him and grabbed for the door handle.

  “Allie,” he said, but she ignored it and slipped out the door.

  In the bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her blond hair was completely mussed, her makeup smeared and her eyes haunted with the knowledge that everyone seemed to compare her to her sister—perfect Callie who had chosen a profession and stuck with it.

  Allie couldn’t help wondering what she had gotten herself into.

  HE’D HURT HER. She would have to bring up the orgasm. After that he couldn’t seem to keep his mind on intimidating her. His sole purpose had been to scare her off but all he’d done was hurt her feelings by bringing up her sister.

  It was a knee-jerk reaction. She threatened him and he knew it in his bones. Traveling from base to base as a child, tour of duty to tour of duty in the military, then mission to mission as a mercenary, Drew didn’t owe allegiance to any one government agency. Drew hadn’t wanted any ties. He tried to keep the people he worked with and for at arm’s length. It was easier when he lost a colleague or had to move on, for him a familiar way of life.

  If he compared her to Callie, it was Callie who was lacking. Allie with her soft mouth and her tart quips simply unseated him. He couldn’t maintain his concentration when she looked at him with so much animation in her eyes. The promises were so tempting, so real. He thought he could almost feel them each time he got close to her.

  Getting close to her was a dumb-ass move. But to provoke her he had to get physical. Her buoyant personality wouldn’t be dampened by a few scowls.

  She was spending way too much time in the bathroom. He slipped out the door and walked down the hall. Ducking into a darkened office, he retrieved her purse and then ducked back out. He approached the ladies’ room. Glancing at his watch, he noted that fifteen minutes had passed. This late in the day, he was relatively sure that every female in the building would have already left. He pushed the door open and found her standing in front of the mirror, looking at herself.

  “Allie?”

  She jumped and turned around. “My makeup’s a mess.”

  “I can see that. Here’s your purse.”

  She smiled briefly and his heart slammed into his chest. Damn the woman. Anyone else and he’d be able to be as tough as she’d said he was.

  “Thanks.”

  She opened the bag and took out a small packet and turned on the faucet. She pulled a wipe out of the small packet, sending the wipe into the stream of water and he watched as it lathered. With careful swipes, she took care of the mascara on her face. He stepped forward and pulled a paper towel out of the dispenser and slipped it into her hand.

  “Thanks,” she said softly.

  He hadn’t felt this bad in a long time. Why did this woman make him go weak?

  Wiping her face, she threw both the wipe and the used towel in the trash.

  “I can take you to your apartment so that you can pick up a few things. Not too much because we’ll provide you with clothes and such for when you’re undercover.”

  She nodded, rubbing at her wrists again and he could see the redness where the handcuffs had left their marks.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To a safe place.”

  She didn’t respond. He could tell she was trying hard to control whatever emotion had caused her to pull in on herself.

  His thoughtlessness made him feel like an ass.

  “Hey,” he said, moving a step closer and bending his head to better see her face. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. “Yeah.” The lie was barely a whisper. He saw it in the brief trembling of her shoulders, in the nervous swipe of her fingers that dislodged her silky hair, sending it down over her cheekbone. “Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks.”

  She faced the sink and picked up her purse. Her shoulder accidentally brushed against his chest, and the contact brought her to a sudden halt. Her head came up and their eyes met.

  She was close, very close, all overheated woman and soft, sweet musk.

  Tantalizing.

  He found himself breathing deeper just to have more of her. Stupid move coming up, he thought. He was certifiable, trying to breathe her in—but, he loved the way she smelled. He didn’t know what to make of the shadowed expression in her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” He reached out and gently took hold of her upper arm.

  She hesitated before answering, her gaze dropping. “Nothing. You said it all. I got the message. End of story.”

  That damn vulnerability. He would rather have her anger or her wariness. No. None of those were close to what he really wanted from her.

  He slid his thumb along the edge of her wrist where the handcuff had done the most damage, feeling the silken softness of her skin.

  “Agent Miller.”

  “Drew,” he corrected her. He’d had his hand in a very intimate place last night. She should at least call him by his first name.

  “Drew,” she conceded, making a small dismissive gesture, part shrug, part turn of her hand—but he wasn’t about to be dismissed, even though it should have been what he wanted. “This has been a crazy day—night—couple of days, I don’t really know. Absolutely crazy and you haven’t exactly made it better, except for making sure that I understand where you’re coming from.” She paused, her jaw tightening for an instant. “I just find it hard to believe that I’m going undercover with a man who neither trusts me nor wants me on the mission. The guy who’s supposed to train me—” She stopped herself short and her hand came back up to cover her face. “I know I’m not Callie, but I’m not a weaker version of her, either.”

  He’d touched a raw nerve. Suddenly he got a glimpse into what it might be like being Allie Carpenter, getting lost in her sister’s shadow.

  “I only meant that I thought you were Callie because you were in her decoy apartment, on her bed. I was supposed to go there and bring her in, not…get her off. But I think I knew you weren’t her from the moment I met you. By then…”

  “What?”

  “It was too late,” he confirmed, bringing his hand up and smoothing his fingers along the curve of her jaw. He didn’t mean to do it, but she pulled at him like a vortex. Before he could stop himself, he lowered his head and took her lips.

  She let out a soft gasp, and her hand came up to press against his chest, warm and light. She might have been thinking of pushing him away, but she didn’t do it. In fact, it only took about two seconds flat for her to tighten her grip and sigh into his mouth.

  Dammit. He was right with her every step of the way. Her lips were as soft as they looked, the inside of her mouth even softer. It was a mind-blowing kiss.

  He turned her deeper into the kiss, pressing her back against the sink. He hadn’t expected such a pliant response, such surrender, and it went straight to his groin in a wave of pleasure so intense, he groaned.

  Cupping the back of her head with his hand, he slowly increased his assault on her mouth, delving deeper with long, lazy strokes of his tongue and feeling her response in the subtle tightening of her body.

  From the moment he’d met her he’d had the fantasy of thi
s kind of kiss. But his fantasies were nothing compared to the reality of this full-out, hot-flesh-fused-to-hot-flesh kiss that made him want to keep her like this forever.

  Big mistake.

  If they hadn’t been standing in a bathroom, he would have slid his hand up to her breast, knowing it would push them both closer to the edge. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was supposed to be training her—and that didn’t include his hand on her breast—he would definitely give in to the urge to pin her hips solidly against his, and he would have kept kissing her—kept kissing her until she was too hot to stop.

  Just the thought of it made him hard.

  He pulled away after that because he was moving onto dangerous ground. Okay, lethal ground. He was already on very shaky ground here. For a few seconds he didn’t move a muscle, only tried to catch his breath, shift his thinking from south of his belt buckle to his empty head.

  She didn’t move, either. Instead, she stood still with her mouth on his, her breathing erratic, her body quivering.

  She’d kissed him as if she was merging with him and they were becoming one. And once was not going to be enough. Not when everything he’d ever believed about being alone fragmented in the reality of holding her to him, with her inviting mouth hot on his.

  The desire had surprised him, but he’d felt it as surely as he’d felt her tongue slide along the length of his, as surely as he’d felt her hand soft against his chest. He had a feeling that some of her illusions were being remade, too, her reaction to him as amazing and surprising as his was.

  Gently, because he couldn’t resist, he kissed her again. Brushing his mouth across hers in a light caress was a way to slow the moment when they had to move away from each other. To defuse the need to do more than meet mouth to mouth, he wanted desperately to have her.

  Good idea in theory, but very hard to put in practice. One look at her flushed face and her moist mouth, the rise and fall of her breasts against his chest with every breath she took, made stepping back all the more difficult. Giving in to the temptation one more time, he dipped back down for another taste, then one more before he was actually able to let her go and retreat half a step.