Mission: Impossible to Deny (The Impossible Mission Romantic Suspense Series Book 7)

by Jacki Delecki

  Darcy trekked behind Jonathan, who pulled her carry-on down the open-air hallway. Her heels clicked on the slate floor. The house's grandeur was understated by the natural color of the rock cliffs used throughout to blend with the magnificent setting. The beauty of the Pacific Ocean was center stage. During the day or at sunset, it would be spectacular, but even now, it was impressive.

  She felt Reeves’s stare on her back. She refused to look over her shoulder and give him the satisfaction of her awareness and anticipation flitting down her spine. She wasn’t here on a beach vacation to do the nasty. She was on assignment. What had happened to the highly disciplined woman who always kept her goals in the front view?

  Darcy sorted through the three “bathing suits.” All were designed for lounging on a chaise sipping exotic fresh fruit drinks, and for quick and easy removal in the heat of the moment. She held up the matching flowered halter and tiny bottoms, which would reveal more than cover. The tiny scraps of material would offer no support while exercising. Who did laps in a thong or pushed the conditioning envelope in a skimpy halter?

  Could she give up swimming in the most magnificent pool in the most incredible spot—an experience she’d probably never have again—because she didn’t want to give Reeves the wrong impression? She wasn’t offering an invitation just because she was attired to hang out at Hugh Hefner’s mansion.

  Her feminist heart became outraged on behalf of all womankind. No male would need to consider his choice of suits as a ploy. She held up the neon-yellow bikini. The top was smaller than the flowered one if that were possible.

  Her choice wasn’t about seducing Reeves. She wanted to swim so she wouldn’t be tempted to take a tumble with sexiness incarnate in the gigantic bed—convoluted logic, but any woman would understand.

  She kicked off her heels and shed her skirt. She was an incredible athlete who prided herself on her strength, stamina, and strong curves. Survival in the Wilson house depended on excelling in everything physical. No one and no bathing suit would interfere with her taking advantage of an amazing lap pool on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

  She should strut in the bikini and jump into the pool as a way to say to Reeves, “deal with it.” But the problem was she wasn’t ready to deal with it—sex with Reeves—molding her lips to his, touching all that man, seeing him naked … and taking the risk.

  The path of least resistance was the heavy terry cloth robe hanging behind the bathroom door.

  Chapter Seven

  Reeves sat in front of the fire pit, a computer on his lap, shifting his gaze between the moon over the ocean and his screen. The sounds of the waves and his fingertips gliding over the keyboard helped settle his swirling brain. He searched the online newspaper articles on Charlie’s death, trying to figure out what had triggered Tex’s investigation of the accident. Had Tex believed that Charlie was murdered? And if Charlie had been murdered, why was his death covered up to look like an accident? And did the same person kill Tex? The image of Tex lifeless on the floor was seared into his brain and not going away soon.

  He was glad that he had a focus to keep him busy. He wouldn’t be getting any sleep in the foreseeable future from the visceral memory of his friend and his very visceral needs for Darcy. Having her nearby and not touching her guaranteed many restless nights ahead. She was slowly becoming a challenge he needed to unravel. As his early delving into Python script, he wanted to peel away every layer of Darcy’s protective shell to the soft, vulnerable woman.

  When they entered the mansion, she tried to hide her shock, but he felt her every breath as she took in the over-the-top luxury. And her reaction to Jonathan’s condescension was as he expected. Darcy didn’t suffer fools or pretensions. And he liked her for not being impressed with the manservant role and the blatant wealth and privilege.

  He leaned closer to the screen to study the picture of Charlie’s red car crashed into a tree that had been published in the Palo Alto Weekly. All three of the city’s newspapers ran the same picture and the same story. “Rich tech millionaire crashes his Lamborghini. Cocaine found.” In Silicon Valley, Charlie’s death was but a ripple in the area of extreme excesses. Some of the young millionaires couldn’t handle the sudden enormous wealth and got lost along the way. It was what was assumed about Charlie. He was high and lost control of his car.

  Reeves felt Darcy’s presence before he heard her quiet footsteps moving across the slate. His breath hitched at her nearness. His muscles tightened; his skin prickled with awareness.

  She said nothing as she passed him. Placing his laptop on the ottoman, he stood, unable to ignore her.

  “The pool is heated, but the air temperature is dropping quickly. It will be chilly when you get out.” Smooth, Hewitt. He sounded either like a weatherman or a whiny old man. The need to kiss her, to touch her, had escalated to insane proportions—watching her eyes dance with mischief, her lips compressed to stifle her laughter, her cute death stares as an attempt to discourage his ridiculous comments to Jonathan.

  She was wrapped in a thick terry cloth robe, and she had tightly cinched it, emphasizing her small waist and the womanly flare of her hips. Her hair was pulled up in a twist on top of her head, suggesting exploding fireworks, all the fire spilling over and down her face.

  “You’re going to swim?” Her eyes narrowed as she examined him in the only bathing suit that fit. He was a big man, and it seemed the Hollywood types were short. He tried not to react while her eyes lingered.

  “Not a long season to swim outdoors in Seattle.” What the hell? Just shut the fuck up, Hewitt. Her less than enthusiastic reaction to the idea of him swimming had him spouting drivel to fill in the tension. Her lips pressed together, and her chin thrust forward didn’t take his genius IQ to read. Flirty games were done. She was back to being the distant professional.

  “I can wait until you’re finished if you like. I’m looking over the news clippings of Charlie’s accident.”

  “Did you find anything?” She shifted on her bare feet. He was mesmerized by the delicate arch of her feet and her red-painted toenails. Not as buttoned-up as she wished everyone to think. He bet his little officer liked racy underwear. Not the best to dwell on Darcy in lingerie when wearing nothing but a swimsuit. “Just getting started … but nothing helpful yet.”

  “Tomorrow, I’d like to stop first at the Palo Alto police station. It’s a small station, so we might be able to shake out memories from Charlie’s accident. I learned from my dad that impressions don’t show up in written reports.”

  “If I only had Tex’s computer or his phone. I could track his searches about Charlie. I’d know what he was looking for. Any news from your tech person?”

  “Molly and the team are working on the malware. It’s a top priority for the cybercrime unit. But I’ve another team searching the security cams that Tex had just installed. They’re running his credit cards and financials. He was skilled at hiding a lot of his info. They’re checking airport manifests to run the passengers through our database for the hired hit since Santa Barbara is a small airport. We might get lucky and find who traveled to do the hit. The town doesn’t look as if it has a lot of local paid-for-hire assassins.”

  “But LA is only a two-hour drive. Safer to fly into LAX and then drive.”

  “I should text her to look into car rentals from LAX.”

  “Go swim before the wind starts up.” What was wrong with him and his insane comments about the weather? Darcy Wilson was what was wrong with him. Her pale skin was exposed in the V of her bathrobe, and despite the thick material of the robe, the outline of her heavy breasts was conspicuous. How easy would it be to untie the robe? Didn’t she understand men’s minds? It was part of the predator gene to want to claim whatever was hidden.

  “I don’t care if you want to swim laps too. The pool is big enough for both of us to stay in our lanes.”

  “I promise not to cross your lane … unless you ask me nicely. Really nicely.” He couldn’t
stop the husky timbre coloring his voice.

  Her breath hitched before a Cheshire cat smile lit up her face. “I’ll hold you to your promise.”

  Her exaggerated hip swaying as she sauntered away heated his blood to the boiling point. The woman was up to something. Was she planning on skinny-dipping? The idea had short-circuited his mainframe. He tracked her slow, seductive walk. He’d never be able to keep his promise.

  She threw her towel on the chaise lounge, walking to the edge of the pool to dip her foot into the water. His heart, hammering in his chest, reverberated in his ears like a live Radiohead concert. He couldn’t look away from the drama of waiting for Darcy to take off her robe. This was better than waiting for Apple to introduce the iPhone.

  With her back to him, she leisurely untied her robe and let it drop to the ground. He was paralyzed. Unable to breathe or move from the vision of Darcy in a tiny thong, her heart-shaped ass exposed. Lust, incendiary lust, swamped him as he imagined the ripe globes squeezed between his palms. Never before had a woman struck him so thoroughly, so quickly.

  She turned, and he stared, mouth open. His brain and body freeze might be a sign of a stroke. Her beautiful, round breasts were in a skimpy, barely-there halter.

  “You remember your promise?” She waggled her eyebrows in imitation of him.

  Promise? What was she talking about? His genius brain was like scrambled eggs. He couldn’t form a thought or word if he tried. All the blood for his brain had gone south. His body was hot and hard.

  “You promised to stay in your lane unless I asked nicely. I’m not asking … but if you beg, maybe just maybe, I’ll let you in my lane.”

  She dove into the pool with perfect grace and didn’t emerge until she reached the end of the pool.

  He had no pride. He’d beg. He’d grovel. He’d do anything to catch her. And when he did …

  He ran to the edge and dove in.

  Darcy was a strong swimmer, and she already had finished the lap and was heading toward him. He waited, and when she was in reaching distance, he lunged underneath her. She anticipated his move, turned rapidly, and swam away from him. She had a lot more maneuverability with her tiny frame, but strength and size were on his side. And his drive to capture her.

  He grabbed her ankle and hauled her back, watching her fight against his hold. He had to touch her, run his hands over all those soft contours. She twisted underwater and slipped away. Her escape only heightened his arousal to claim her. He picked up his speed, and this time, she wouldn’t get away.

  So near, he swam past her, staying in his lane. It took all his discipline to stick to his plan when she was within reaching distance. But he was determined to outsmart this very smart woman. He rolled through a flip turn at the end of the pool and swam back toward her. It took every cell of resolve to not touch and do another lap. He wanted her to let down her guard, and then he’d catch her. But when she glided past him, he lost all his resolve; he accelerated, his strong strokes cutting through the water. He grasped her calf, his large hand covering the sleek muscle. He never felt more grateful for his size and strength.

  He dragged her toward him. His heart and breath hurtled with his burst of energy as the glistening woman wrestled against his grip. She flipped over and kicked him hard in the chest with her other foot. He tugged her closer, searching her face for clues whether she was still enjoying the game. She had thrown down the gauntlet, and like any breathing male, he took up the challenge. Did she desire the sparring to end the way he did?

  Her green eyes brightly glimmered in the moonlight. As he tugged her near, she wrapped her legs around his torso and sat up, connecting them chest to chest. Her muscular legs molded tightly.

  The sensation of her full, hot breasts against his chest made his knees almost buckle. His throbbing dick was pressed against her soft mound as his hands caressed her ass. He was building to blow just by groping her sumptuous ass. He dragged himself back from the precipice. He wanted to make this good for her.

  He brushed away the lock that covered her one eye—silky as he had imagined. He stared into her eyes. Their jagged breaths mingled, as did their speeding hearts.

  “Is this what you want?” He flexed his hips, bringing his dick against her entrance. He was one skimpy layer away from thrusting into her and taking them both to nirvana.

  “Believe it or not, I came out to swim, not to seduce you. But you …”

  Her long, red-tinged lashes sparkled with water droplets, as did the pale skin of her cleavage. He wanted to lick every drip.

  “You … you make me violate all my rules.” Her teeth clamped on her plump lower lip.

  “I’m so glad to hear that we’re in the same place … since I’ve never had this response to a woman before.”

  She laughed, her breasts jiggling in the little top that he wanted to rip off. She lifted herself and pushed against his erection. “First time. Now that’s just sad at your age.”

  He roared. The deep laughter filled the empty spaces around his heart with joy. “For that, you’re going to pay.”

  “Bring it on, Hewitt. I can handle anything you have.”

  She reached down and gripped him hard. He throbbed against her tiny hands. Red sparks shot before his eyes, and pleasure rolled down his spine, straight to his balls. He was going to lose it before he got to taste and enjoy every wet inch of Darcy Wilson.

  He moved quickly to shallower water where he could stand, but where they would still be underwater. He was steaming hot, but he didn’t want Darcy to get chilled. And treading water was a distraction when he wanted his focus only on the gorgeous woman, a living dream, in his arms.

  Resting against the edge of the pool, he couldn’t stop squeezing her ass between his palms as he searched under the thong. Darcy gasped and rubbed her chest against him as his long finger stroked along her swollen vulva. He circled her bud, feeling it swell and thicken under his touch.

  Aroused, Darcy started to ride him, moving up and down. The friction of her voluptuous breasts against his chest, and her mound against his dick, was pushing him right to the edge. He didn’t want a quick fuck for their first time together. He wanted to take her nice and slow and savor what a lucky bastard he was that this smart and sensual woman had come to his bed.

  Her face was flushed and her movements more frantic. She was ready to detonate, and he wanted his mouth on her breasts when she did.

  She groaned in distress when he stopped touching her to release her halter. He lifted her wet, heavy, and full breasts. His body and his dick got harder and hotter, which seemed impossible. He bent and licked her tight, pale pink nipple. He licked slowly, relishing the taste of Darcy as his fingers explored along her slick folds, avoiding touching her clit. He wanted to enjoy this moment of Darcy, her head thrown back, all fire and passion, floating on sensation.

  He switched and licked her other nipple, enjoying her loud groans. She kept moving, her movements more frantic, reaching for her orgasm.

  He sucked her breast, pulling as much of the supple tissue as he could into his mouth. He couldn’t stop thrusting against her. He couldn’t control his need to respond to her gyrations that brought her sweet heat directly against him.

  He was edging to his release. He circled her clit in a gentle rhythm, watching Darcy climb, panting, and riding him with abandon. Her sodden hair had partially come undone and hung around her shoulders; her eyes were closed and her mouth open with her tiny gasps. He sucked harder on her nipple and then scraped his teeth across it. She went off, exploding in his arms, screaming his name. He didn’t stop his careful worship of her breasts and kept his finger lightly encircling her as the waves subsided.

  She collapsed, her head resting on his chest. Her breath still came in short, little puffs. As he soothed her back, a sense of well-being filled him. Giving Darcy orgasms and comforting her felt right—better than solving any algorithm.

  He kissed the top of her head as he began to walk toward the steps, desire’s pulsating be
at drumming through him for the night ahead. The first time might be a little rushed since it had been a long time, but they had the whole night.

  Suddenly, an alarm blared through the silence. Holy shit.

  Darcy stiffened and then catapulted out of his arms onto the pool deck and ran toward the entrance.

  She shouted as she ran topless toward the bank of monitors. “Get down and stay down.”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He’d set the alarm to signal when anyone approached the front door. The blare was coming from his computer and not the entire system.

  He jumped out of the pool and ran after her.

  In the seconds ahead of him, she had his Glock out of the drawer in the kitchen where he had placed it and was loading it as she snuck toward the front door.

  “Darcy, stop!”

  She raised her hand and then whispered without a pause in her prowl, “Get in a room and lock the door. Now.”

  “I reset the alarm, so if the guard or Jonathan came back, it would alert me. Unless an intruder got past the guard and the surveillance system, it’s one of those two.”

  She halted. Her back to him. Her voice cold and hard. “Repeat that.”

  “I overrode their passwords so they couldn’t get in without me knowing it. I wanted my system in place after what happened with Tex. And I didn’t think either of us wanted Jonathan to return.”

  She swung around, the gun now pointed downward, but the fury on her face and in her eyes made him step back. With her damp red hair curling around her head and her look of murderous rage, she resembled a revenging Valkyrie.

  “And you didn’t think to tell me?” She punctuated each word. “To keep me in the loop about our security?”

  He raised his hands. “It’s just habit to reset passwords when any of our clients are in a safe house. Limiting it to only select people knowing the password. It’s a safety measure.” Surely, she could see the logic. He tried to keep his eyes on her face, but her skin was dewy, her hair starting to curl, brushing her taut pink nipples.