One-Click Buy: March 2009 Harlequin Blaze

by Alison Kent

  Her eyes fluttered open, her gaze slowly clearing from a dreamy hue of wonder to an awestruck, what-just-hit-me blue. She stared at him, suddenly wide-eyed.

  “Ohmigosh.”

  Yup, they were on the same page.

  “We have to go,” he insisted, his hand still stroking the back of her neck. “We can’t stay here.”

  “No. Of course not,” she said. But she was as transfixed as he, her pulse racing beneath his hand.

  Somebody save him.

  “I’m sorry.” The words were out, husky and heartfelt, before he had time to think. It wasn’t what he wanted to say. He wanted a room, a room with a bed and her naked on it. He wanted the rest of the night and into the morning. He wanted to know what turned her on and the chance to drive her out of her mind, just the chance.

  Her expression told him he could do it. She would come undone for him, completely undone. It was a hell of a temptation, to take her and make her his.

  “Thanks for saying that.”

  “I mean it.” He slowed the movement of his thumb across her skin, his brows drawing together.

  She gave her head a small shake and moved toward the door. Her voice strained, she said, “Well…uh, thanks…Well, I…uh, I’m really hungry.”

  He let her go. A sigh escaped him. Chasing her wasn’t an option, nor was catching her—little Miss Carpenter with her smart mouth and completely wild kisses.

  Nope. She was nothing like Callie.

  3

  WHO KNEW trouble came in such a wonderfully funny, intoxicating package?

  Conveniently located close to the Westwood Building, Drew stretched out in one of the chairs in the loft where he stayed when in LA. He had a straight line of sight to the bed. He’d put Allie there after she passed out in his car from sheer exhaustion.

  There were no interior walls, only wide-open spaces from one end of the loft to the other. It seemed that a view was everything in downtown LA, and he had too good a view of all five feet six inches of silky woman.

  He couldn’t really call the getup she was wearing sexy. It was classy and covered all the right places, yet the sight of her in the pretty eyelet nightgown made him wonder about the curves beneath the cotton. Especially when she moved around so much and he kept catching glimpses of her smooth skin. She sure was restless. She mumbled Callie’s name a couple of times in a tone that indicated she was sure mad at her sister. But that was something Callie would have to deal with. His problem was the mission and how easily his composure had been shattered right from the moment he’d vowed he wouldn’t train her or touch her. Right now he shouldn’t even be looking at her.

  He’d spent the night on the couch and had risen at eight o’clock when a knock on the door had revealed a courier with all the information he’d requested from Mark. With that information in his hand, he’d mapped out a game plan. Today they would start her training. He’d booked a conference room at the Westwood Building for one-thirty. This would give Mendez and Frost time to get to LA as they were both out of town at the moment.

  He, Allie and his three team members would go over all that Allie would need to know, including her undercover persona, the mapped-out plan to sell the guns to the Ghost, a crash course on the gun-running business and a quick course in undercover operations. Then they’d go to the Watchdog training facility and teach Allie self-defense.

  Pushing himself out of the chair, he headed across the living area to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. He’d let Allie sleep for now.

  He knew his breaking point and he was fast approaching it. Self-control was supposed to be his middle name. But she’d knocked him for a loop. No more, though. Not right now.

  His cell rang and when he answered, Mark said, “We’ve been contacted through Gina Callahan’s cell.”

  “By whom?”

  “One of the Ghost’s lackeys, a guy named Jammer.”

  “What does he want?”

  “He wanted to speak to Gina, but the Watchdog operative now with her in Paris only said she wasn’t available. He wanted to meet with her second in command. Guess who that is?”

  “Where’s the meet?”

  “Starbucks at the Hyatt Regency in Century City in an hour.”

  “I’ll be there. And, Mark—I need Gina’s clothes and her cell.”

  “On the way to you as we speak. Drew, we’re moving Callie to Walter Reed as soon as the arrangements are in place. I thought her sister would like to know that she’s safe and getting the best medical care we can provide.”

  “I’ll let Allie know. It’ll be a load off her mind.”

  After he disconnected the call, he called Thad Michaels, big, tough Australian former boxer and con man with Special Forces training. He trusted Thad to watch over Allie. Thad was a mercenary with whom Drew had worked on many missions.

  Fifteen minutes later he’d changed into a blue polo shirt, a pair of faded jeans and soft-soled shoes made for running and jumping.

  Allie moaned in her sleep, saying Callie’s name and then getting angry at her again. He walked over to the bed, thinking it was one more bad idea in a string of bad ideas that he’d had since deciding he was the only man on the planet who could train this woman for this mission. He knelt down next to the bed and reached out to brush the hair off her forehead. He looked down the length of her body. A damp sheen of sweat covered her skin, from the backs of her calves, in the tender hollows behind her knees, up her thighs, and over the incredible curves of her ass.

  He wanted to consume her and not stop until he was sated. Instead, he stood up and shrugged into his shoulder holster and leather bomber jacket.

  Drew checked his watch and looked at the door. What was taking Thad so long? He needed to get out of here. His gaze was drawn to Allie and again wandered up her body. He would never take advantage of her, but he was on a damn thin line as to whether or not he would try to seduce her.

  Come on, Thad, he thought, checking his watch again.

  He turned his attention back to Allie and noticed ink peeking out from the hem of the eyelet.

  Perfect, he thought. The ink tantalized. His fingers itched to draw back the fabric to get the full glimpse of exactly what Allie Carpenter had tattooed on her shapely butt.

  Hearing the rap on the door, he snapped the sheet up over her again.

  “G’day, Captain,” Thad said, when Drew opened the door.

  “Thad, thanks for coming. This is Allie Carpenter, our new team member. She’ll be posing as arms dealer Gina Callahan and I’ve requested that you become part of my team.” He gestured at the lovely lump in the bed.

  Thad eyed the woman, and then gave Drew a big grin. “Abso-bloody-lutely, Captain. You can count on me. I can keep her here, mate. As a matter of fact—” he leaned in for a closer look “—I think she’s knackered.”

  “Yeah, she’s out cold, all right. Fatigue and chloroform. Not a good combination for her.”

  “True blue, mate? Chloroform? Sounds like you had one bloody hell of a night.”

  “It’s a long story, Thad. I’ll have to fill you in later. For now, watch her.”

  “Got it.”

  “I have booked a conference room at the Westwood Building at one-thirty. Mendez and Frost are en route. I’ll be back in about two hours.”

  “No worries, mate.”

  Drew had a lot of worries, least of all the beautiful woman in the bed. He was about to tell Thad to keep his eyes off her when she let out a soft moan and rolled over, taking the sheet with her and effectively exposing her curves.

  “Bugger me,” Thad whispered, his eyes glued to the naked curve of her hip.

  Drew went to Allie and untangled the sheet, his hand tingling from the combination of heat and silky skin. “Remember why you’re here,” Drew warned Thad. Smoothing the sheets, he then pushed the ends under the mattress to keep them secure. “It’s better if you don’t look.”

  Satisfied that he’d done all he could and that things would only get worse if he stayed, he st
raightened from the side of the bed.

  She looked so sweet and innocent in that bed, her blond hair spread everywhere. He found Thad settled in a chair in the living room, watching TV. Thad was rock-solid. Honed as a commando into an elite combat weapon, he was trained to think two steps ahead of the enemy while under fire, underwater and outmanned. He’d scaled cliffs and rappelled out of helicopters, braved ice-cold water and death. There wasn’t anything in LA Thad couldn’t handle on his own, including the top government’s elite and their amorous wives.

  Nothing—least of all a 120-pound interior designer.

  Checking to make sure he’d remembered to load his gun, Drew headed for the door.

  LIKE AN APPARITION, the Ghost walked through the crowd; he was no specter but a flesh-and-blood man no one in his organization knew by sight. The trick was using the electronic gadgets he had at his disposal. One didn’t need to be present anywhere when there were BlackBerrys, conference calls and the Internet—ah, he loved the digital era. Sure there were times when he had to be present, but concealing his identity hadn’t been a problem. It was all about misdirection.

  Even the savvy, suspicious people in the arms business were easy to fool when you knew how to fool them. That gave him a lot of pleasure.

  It was so easy to get people to believe you about who you were. No one ever suspected that a lackey in his operation was actually the boss. When he told people the Ghost had sent him, people believed it.

  And he stayed hidden in plain sight.

  The Ghost liked to do his own look-see before he made any deals. Leaving the details to flunkies was a way to get yourself killed. It was his business and his life on the line and he intended to make sure both flourished.

  When in LA, he often booked a room at the Hyatt. The lobby of the hotel was extremely busy with people checking in and out. He sat at a table waiting for Gina’s man.

  Recent rumors had brought him out of his opulent and extensive compound in Napa Valley, rumors that Gina Callahan had been killed in France.

  Gina Callahan had a nasty reputation, the main reason he had steered clear of her when she’d first come on the international gun-running scene.

  She was unpredictable, uninhibited, gorgeous—and as deadly as a snake. Versed in martial arts and weapons, she’d be a formidable foe. The Ghost had no intention of going blind into any deal with her.

  He’d managed to stay out of her sights until the introduction he’d received in Charles Girard’s hotel room only days ago when he’d seen her up close and personal. Everything he’d heard about her was true.

  He was a man who’d been to hell and back and didn’t easily let down his guard. But, with Gina, he’d gotten more than close to her. He hadn’t expected it to happen, found it damned inconvenient.

  Even now, he was still surprised that she didn’t look anything like he had expected—older, harder-looking. She couldn’t have been over five foot six or a hundred and twenty pounds. Her hair was black…and purple, cut short and spiky. Her eyelashes were sooty and thick giving her guarded eyes an exotic look.

  And her eyes—he swallowed softly—her eyes were the clearest, most crystalline blue he’d ever seen, like a summer sky illuminated by pure sunlight.

  He didn’t believe in love at first sight, but something really unfortunate and extraordinary was happening to him. He’d faced weapons buyers and sellers who were some of the most heartless bastards on the planet. But something about Gina caused a meltdown somewhere around his heart.

  After Charles had introduced them, he realized prematurely that she had extended her hand. Something people did when they first met. He reached out and slid his palm against hers. She had fine bones, a single silver bracelet with a heart around her delicate wrist. Her skin was soft, but he hadn’t expected such a small hand to hold so much strength, her grip strong. His gaze returned to her face and—she was beautiful. Not pretty. Not cute, but freaking gorgeous, like a swimsuit-supermodel-fantasy woman every guy just hopes to meet in the flesh.

  Braless.

  His mouth went dry with the realization, and he had to force his gaze back to her face—which was no hardship. She had a smear of chocolate on one cheek from the chocolate croissant she held in her hand. He had a serious urge to lick it off, but—damn—if his tongue ever got the chance to touch her skin, he could guarantee that he was going to lick more than her cheek.

  “And you would be?” she prompted with just enough amusement in her voice to let him know how long he’d been staring at her like a silly fool.

  “Jammer,” he stammered.

  “Jammer?” she said, his name sounding lazily silken on her tongue. “Do you jam people up?” One dark, winged brow arched in question.

  “As charged,” he managed.

  “Where do you fit in the Ghost’s hierarchy?”

  “I take care of the negotiations.”

  Those deep blue eyes held his for a long, considering moment. “Hey, I heard that you’re looking for some AK-47 automatics. That right?”

  “You’re well-informed.”

  “That’s what keeps me in business, mister. Supply and demand. I have the supply, you have the demand. When and where do you need those delivered?”

  “In two weeks in LA. What’s the price?”

  Gina named a price that he agreed to.

  “So, the Ghost never does his own buys?”

  “Not unless it’s a large shipment like this one. He’ll be there to seal the deal.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  She was simply mind-boggling in her tiny, torn pale-pink T-shirt and hot-pink, hip-hugging Lycra miniskirt. Not the run-of-the-mill arms dealer. It had never crossed his mind that purchasing the guns to resell for a tidy profit to Mexican drug kingpin Eduardo Fuentes would lead him to someone like Gina Callahan. It was his luck that two federal agents had severely damaged Fuentes’s supply line to the U.S. The Ghost was ready to replace Fuentes’s deceased arms dealer.

  He cursed Gina now, thinking about how little time it had taken him to get her clothes off and slide deep into her. He’d spent three blissful days in her hotel room and they hadn’t even gotten out of bed.

  Now he was so deep, he didn’t think he could get out.

  Normally, he would have dissolved his agreement with Gina when he couldn’t get her on the phone. But he needed this shipment and it was too late to put another one together on such short notice. He didn’t like problems, but Gina wasn’t a problem. He shouldn’t let his emotions interfere, but he had to know she was all right. He had to see her. That’s why he’d agreed to meet her second in command here at the Hyatt.

  He hadn’t prayed in a long time, but he prayed now that Gina Callahan wasn’t dead as rumored. If she was, he intended to find out who had killed her.

  He would make them wish they’d never been born.

  JUST ON THE FRINGE of sleep was a time where wisps of thought wandered through the mind. The bed was perfect. The sheets were perfect. The pillow under her head was perfect.

  Too bad it wasn’t her bed. Holy cow! That’s right! She was in Drew’s bed.

  She turned her nose deeper into the sheets. Oh, yeah, his bed, all right. The soft, warm blankets, Egyptian-cotton sheets, down pillows and the smell of him wrapped around her senses. From the angle of the sunlight streaming in through the windows, she figured it was about midmorning—and she’d woken up in a stranger’s bed.

  Oh, yeah, she’d agreed to take her sister’s place in an undercover covert operation to apprehend a very scary gunrunner murderer, and she’d been too tired last night even to look at her surroundings.

  She opened one eye a bare fraction of a slit. She could see all the way across the rather expansive room.

  There was also a very large man with shaggy blond hair sitting in a chair. Allie bolted up.

  “G’day sheila. Owyergoin?”

  Sheila? Oh God, where was Drew? “Allie,” she said. “Carpenter. Not. Sheila.”

  “What?”


  “My name. It’s Allie Carpenter. And you are?”

  “Thad Michaels.”

  That told her absolutely nothing.

  “How about a bit of tucker? There’s bum nuts and mystery bag. I can put on the jug.”

  Oh, she finally got the accent—Australian. “Who exactly are you?”

  “The captain told me to watch you.”

  “Captain? Captain who?”

  “Drew.”

  “Yes, where is he?”

  “He had to go out for a bit. He asked me to keep an eye on you. Sorry about the Aussie slang. I asked you if you’d like some breakfast. There’s eggs and sausage. I can put the kettle on for tea.”

  Allie jumped at the thought of tea. “That would be wonderful. I should get cleaned up first and dressed.”

  “Right. It’s the dunny for you. I can bring your suitcase for you.”

  “Thanks. I’m a little out of it first thing in the morning. Takes me a minute to wake up.”

  “She’ll be apples once you get some tucker.”

  Thad Michaels was a big one as he filled the bathroom door with his broad shoulders. He set the case inside and came out.

  Once inside the bathroom, Allie closed the door. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, so she had no intention of staying too long inside. The bathroom was huge, easily a quarter of the square space in the loft. There was a sunken tub situated in the corner with the shower overhead and numerous showerheads jutting from the wall. She sighed as she turned on the water.

  After getting cleaned up and eating, she felt much better.

  “How long will Drew be?” she asked.

  “A couple of hours, I guess.”

  Allie heard a beeping from her purse. She rummaged through it and found her BlackBerry. Pressing the button, she brought up her calendar. When she saw that she had totally forgotten the meeting with Lily Walden, her “It Girl,” she cried, “Oh, no.”