“Are you warm enough?”
“I’m chilly, but it’s invigorating, not uncomfortable.”
He nodded, feeling the same. The sun would warm them before too long. It had already cleared the horizon and was moving upward like a brilliant ball of fire.
They sat in silence for a while, enjoying their coffee and absorbing the peaceful beauty around them. Neither of them had known much peace these past few weeks, so it seemed a rare and welcome pleasure.
“I guess I really conked out on you last night. You didn’t have any problems, did you?”
“Not a thing. I explored a little, had something to eat and did some fishing.”
“Did you see anything out of the ordinary?”
“Just a few other boats and some late-night fishermen. Nothing suspicious or threatening.”
Rianna sighed, resting her head against the back of the chair and closing her eyes. “Sounds wonderfully dull.”
“It was,” agreed Kyle, gazing out over the water.
Margie would have loved it here.
The image of his former partner slipped into his thoughts, unbidden. She’d had dark, wild curls that were always out of control. Her eyes had been dark brown, too.
Normally, the memories were too painful, so Kyle kept them buried where they couldn’t rub him raw with bitterness and frustration. But Margie had been on his mind a lot during this assignment, a result of working with another female operative.
She’d tackled life head-on, as if it were a great, unending adventure. Born and raised in the city, she’d loved doing anything outdoors, exploring new places and tackling new challenges, but it was that same daring personality that had cost her life.
Even the good memories made his jaw clench and his chest tight. For a long time, he’d been mad as hell at her for risking her life and abandoning him. Now he just felt sad at the loss of her life. Sad, and determined that Haroldson should pay.
Shaking his head to dismiss the images, he turned his attention back to Rianna. She could easily distract a man from troubling thoughts. He studied the smooth curve of her cheeks and noticed how perfectly her hair framed her face.
“I’m guessing that’s your natural hair.”
She reached up to tuck the ends behind her ears. “This is the real thing, and what a relief to be rid of those awful wigs.”
“I’ll bet. I’m sure glad to be rid of the mustache. It itched like hell.”
“And contacts,” they chorused, sharing a grin.
Kyle stared into her lovely, smiling eyes for a moment. Their natural color was a mixture of green and gray. It surprised him to realize how much pleasure he derived from just her smile. It warmed him.
The temperature cooled when she averted her gaze.
He watched as a frown marred her features, and suddenly wished for the power to keep her safe and smiling. He wanted to destroy anything that threatened her, to eliminate anything that might motivate her to put her life at risk. The depth of the emotion made him edgy and restless.
“How long do you think we’ll be able to stay here?” she asked, obviously sensing a need to distract him.
“A few days. Maybe through next weekend. I’m betting Sullivan will want you in D.C. the following week, at the latest.”
She nodded and closed her eyes again. Kyle couldn’t seem to drag his gaze away from her. He knew it was dangerous to let his attraction escalate, yet he couldn’t stem the increasing desire to know what made her tick.
Neither could he ignore the surge of impotent fury he felt every time he thought of her engagement to Haroldson—living in his home, accepting his touch, being intimate with a man twice her age.
How could she do it? How could she sell herself in such an obscene manner? What would make an intelligent, capable woman take on such a compromising assignment? She’d hinted at a deeper reason than ambition, so what could it be? A family vendetta?
He’d only known her a few days and the questions were eating him alive. He wanted answers, yet knew better than to ask. Even if she’d be willing supply answers, he wasn’t sure he could handle the whole truth. Better to guard against caring too much. All that had ever gotten him was more pain and disillusionment.
“I’m starving,” Rianna announced, breaking into his grim thoughts. “Since you made the coffee, I’ll cook breakfast. Any preference?”
“I’m not particular, but I’m hungry.”
“Bacon, eggs and toast?”
“Sounds great.”
He watched her rise from the chair and walk across the deck. Her smooth, supple movements had his body stirring in interest again, hungry for more than food. He clamped down hard on the desire and spent the next few minutes trying to convince himself that self-denial would make him a better man.
They pulled up anchor after breakfast, and Rianna took the helm for a couple of hours. There really wasn’t much driving involved, she mused, just a gentle steering as the big boat chugged across the water.
Tremont had taken a seat on the small front deck, so her attention shifted back and forth between the lake and him. The temperature had climbed to eighty already. He’d replaced his T-shirt and sweats with a pair of gym shorts. The rest of him was gloriously, tantalizingly naked.
A fine sheen of sweat made his bronze skin shimmer in the sunlight. Every time he moved a muscle, the ropelike flexing sent a frisson of sensation through Rianna. She didn’t suppose a woman would ever get tired of looking at his tight, flat stomach or his equally tight rear end.
What she didn’t dare do was get too excited about his great body. As much as she’d like to explore every inch of it, she knew it would be a monumental mistake. Her assignment for the agency was far from finished. Even if she survived to testify against Gregory—which the odds were against—the trial and appeals could go on for years. She had no business getting involved with anyone.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t do a little daydreaming about the hunk she’d hooked up with, she thought with a grin. Would he be an impatient lover? Or the slow, thorough sort? Did he like partners who were wild and uninhibited, or shy and innocent? She didn’t have any personal experience, but that didn’t mean she was totally ignorant about sex. A person could learn a lot through the media these days. Movies, television shows and books were pretty explicit.
Tremont stirred her feminine curiosity more than any man she’d ever met, yet she knew any interest he showed in her would be strictly physical. He wore his emotional detachment like a Mylar vest, shielding his heart.
He chose that minute to reenter the cabin, and Rianna felt a blush rising up her neck. She hoped he didn’t have a clue what had prompted her flush.
He offered a convenient excuse. “It’s getting a little warm in here, isn’t it.”
She jumped on it. “Yes, I was just thinking we might want to turn on the AC during the heat of the day.”
He moved to the controls and turned on the central air. “I’ll set it low enough that it doesn’t get cold—just not too hot.”
She mumbled her agreement and then turned her attention to the lake again. Tremont stepped behind her, and she was enveloped in the musky male scent of him. He radiated as much heat as the sun, raising her temperature even more. It was all she could do not to fan herself.
As they traversed the main waterway, the traffic was heavier, with ski boats and Jet Skis zipping around on all sides of them. The boat rocked in the rough wake, and he braced himself with hands on her chair. Even the casual brush of his fingers seared her, and she mentally admonished herself to get a grip.
“How about finding us another place to drop anchor. A place with some natural steps or handholds up the embankment would be nice. I’d like to scout around the area this side of the lake. Maybe have a run if I can find a smooth enough path up there.”
Rianna steered around the next jutting of land, then another before turning into an uninhabited cove with a boulder-lined bank. She cut the engine and let their boat drift as close to shore a
s possible.
“The brochure mentions cottages and other rental properties, so I’d think you could find a decent path somewhere near the shoreline,” she said.
“I’ll try. Are you a jogger?”
“No, but after you’re done exploring, I’d like to swim for a while. I’m used to a good daily workout, and I’m getting stiff just sitting so much,” she said.
Once she’d shut off the engine, Tremont stepped away, and she drew a calmer breath. He lowered the anchor, and then grabbed a pair of running shoes.
“Keep your gun handy while I’m gone. I won’t be more than an hour. If you even suspect trouble, get off the boat.”
“I’ll be careful. If I need to escape, I’ll follow you onto shore and then stay as close as possible until you get back.”
“Okay.”
They both moved to the front deck, and he dove into the water. Once he surfaced, she handed him his shoes. She noticed socks were tucked in one and a small handgun in the other. He held the shoes over his head as he waded the last few feet to shore. She watched until he’d climbed the steep bank and disappeared into the trees.
Her emotions were mixed about her sexy bodyguard. There was no denying the physical attraction. Though neither of them spoke about it or acted on it, it kept intensifying. It wouldn’t be smart to let her increasing desire fog her judgment. There was so much more at stake than personal satisfaction.
She wanted to trust him, yet she’d been trained to consider every angle, the potential risk in every situation. What if Donald Sullivan was wrong about Tremont’s reliability? What did she really know about him? Even though his service record was impressive, he’d retired under less than favorable conditions.
What if both sides had enlisted him to keep her under surveillance? Where did his loyalties lie? What if he’d just headed for the nearest pay phone to contact the men who wanted her dead?
Hating the paranoia that had been a part of her life for so long, Rianna shook her head in disgust. She’d have to wait and watch Tremont until she could decide whether or not to trust him. Right now, being with him held more appeal than being alone. She was so tired of being alone.
Thoughts of the loneliness brought memories of her family and their vacation on a similar houseboat. Her brother, Jimmy, had been so full of energy and enthusiasm. He’d wanted to investigate every nook and cranny, to learn how everything worked. He’d wanted to fish and swim and steer the boat. He’d asked a million questions that her parents had patiently answered.
Jimmy had called her Rianna instead of her given name, Marianna. It had been too much of a mouthful for him, so he’d created the nickname. Tremont was the first person she’d mentioned it to in nearly a decade.
She couldn’t say why she’d shared it with him, except that she’d grown sick and tired of aliases. Once this case was over, she vowed to find a new line of work: one where she never had to assume another name and identity. With Gregory out of the way, it might finally be possible.
Deciding it was a good time to take stock of the clothing she’d bought, she dragged out shopping bags and sorted through the hastily purchased collection. In addition to a few pairs of shorts and tops, she’d chosen four bikinis, two matching navy-blue ones and two neon-green ones. She set them aside and stashed most of the other clothes into the drawers under her bed.
Her biggest purchase had been panties. She took fourteen pairs of them, plus the bikinis, and moved back into the kitchen. After getting herself a can of soda, she settled down to sew, pausing every few minutes to check for unexpected guests.
Nearly an hour later, she heard Tremont shouting at her from the beach. She went onto the deck and waited until he’d swum close enough to toss his shoes onto the boat. Then she gave him a hand to board.
“Have a nice run?” she asked.
“Yeah. The path’s a little rough, but it felt good. Any problems?”
“Nary a one,” she said. “I saw a few boats pass by on the main waterway, but nothing came close.”
“Good. Ready to swim?”
“Almost. I have some sewing to finish. Then I’ll be ready.”
“Sewing?” he asked, following her back inside the cabin. He glanced toward the table. “Have an underwear explosion while I was gone?”
Rianna gave him a grin. “No, I’m just practicing an old trick my mother taught me.”
“And what’s that?”
“Well,” she explained as she went back to work, “you buy two matching pairs of underwear, then you cut part of the front panel out of one and sew it to the front panel of its mate. That makes a neat little pocket that can be sealed with thin strips of Velcro.”
“For hiding something?”
“For hiding a small plastic pouch with cash, an ID, and, in my case, the key to a post office box.”
“Nice, neat little package?”
“I never go anywhere without one.”
“Even to swim?”
“Even to swim. That’s why I bought matching bikinis. The plastic protects everything, so the shower’s about the only place I go without my backup supplies.”
“Clever. Your mother taught you this?”
“Yes, and it’s a trick that’s saved me on several occasions.”
“I imagine it has,” he said.
Conscious of his scrutiny, she lifted her gaze from her handiwork. Tremont had a strange expression on his face. It almost looked like compassion.
“Why are you staring?”
“I’m curious. I know parents teach their kids survival tactics, but why in the hell would your mother teach you something like that? What ever happened to the basics, like putting overzealous boyfriends in their place or protecting yourself against would-be muggers?”
Rianna dropped her gaze again. “My dad taught me that kind of stuff. Mom just expanded on the teachings.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, but knew exactly what he meant. How many mothers taught their children strange survival tricks? Hers had done so out of necessity.
“Why did she think you’d need that sort of security?”
“We moved a lot when I was younger.”
“So did we, but not without a chance to collect our stuff first. Why would you move with no more security than money tucked in underwear? Were you running from someone or something?”
Rianna debated telling him the whole truth. Instinct told her to trust him, yet it didn’t come easily. She held his gaze for a few minutes, and then returned her attention to her work.
“Don’t!” He ground the word out harshly, surprising her into looking directly at him again.
“Don’t what?” she asked lightly.
“Don’t shut me out. Just give me the basics. I can deal with whatever you have to say, and I know how to keep a secret.”
Something about the intensity of his demand made her heart stutter. Did he really care? Why? His tone suggested more than idle curiosity, but what? Rianna found herself telling him a little about her childhood.
“When I was twelve, my family got moved into a witness protection program, but we never felt safe. As soon as we’d get comfortable, the location would be compromised and we’d have to move. My parents taught us to be prepared.”
“Witness protection? I know about it from the agency’s end, but I never gave much thought to living that way. How could your location be jeopardized that often?”
“I don’t know.” Having finished her project, she gathered up the panties, tossing the ruined ones into the trash. “I was just a kid, so I didn’t know all the specifics—just what my parents told me.”
“Which agency was in charge of your relocation? Sounds like someone screwed up royally and kept putting your family in danger. Who do you blame for a breakdown in the system?”
She considered his questions as she put her panties away with the rest of her things. He didn’t need to know that the FBI had failed her family. Or that she and Donald still didn’t know who the informa
nt had been. Blaine had been with the agency for years, so maybe he was the key to learning more.
“I don’t know all the answers. I wish I did, but I don’t,” she said. Having already donned the navy-blue bikini, she headed to the rear of the boat.
Tremont followed, but she ignored him and opened the door to the back deck. “I’m going to swim now,” she said, then dove cleanly over the side.
End of conversation.
Chapter 5
Rianna swam for a while, and then did a little sunbathing. She tanned easily but hadn’t been exposed to much sun lately, so she wanted to be careful not to overdo it. After coating herself with a liberal amount of sunscreen, she stretched out in a lounge chair on the upper deck of the boat.
Tremont stood near the railing with a collection of fishing gear scattered around him. She decided to lie on her stomach, but turned her head so that she could admire his casting techniques. Every hard line of his body was aesthetically pleasing.
She couldn’t help remembering how solid he’d felt when she’d latched on to him this morning. Even the memory of his reaction heated her blood hotter than the sun baked her skin.
It had been so long since anyone had held her, tightly and securely. Just held her. Without pretense, without making demands she couldn’t accept.
He’d wanted her this morning. At least, his body had hungered for hers. The thought thrilled a very private, feminine part of her. She found him wildly attractive and was pleased that he reciprocated the feeling, even if neither of them planned to act on it. It still gave her ego a much-needed boost, a warm, fuzzy feeling to hug to herself.
Gregory hadn’t wanted her in a physical sense. He’d had plenty of women willing to satisfy his carnal desires. He’d been openly affectionate in public, but very impersonal in private. The setup had suited her needs, yet it had kept her isolated. She’d had no one she could trust or be comfortable with for months.
Tremont had to be applauded for not trying to take advantage of their forced intimacy. She hadn’t known whether his legendary honor extended to personal relationships. She supposed it did, yet she had an insane urge to entice him beyond his control.
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