My Spy

by Christina Skye

  “You're wasting your time, counselor. We have a business relationship, not a personal one. As a lawyer, you should understand the difference—and why it's dangerous to confuse the two.”

  “Perfectly.” His smile was cold. “And as a man, I can regret the fact. But don't worry, I never take no for an answer, Annie.”

  “You'd be a fool not to.”

  “I am many things, my dear. A fool is not one of them.” Marsh moved toward the door, in the process managing to brush against a delicate Murano vase holding a single white rose.

  The vase toppled before Annie could react, shattered into a thousand bright fragments on the pink Saltillo tiles.

  Marsh prodded the glass with the toe of his polished loafer. “So lovely, yet so fragile.” There was nothing warm in his eyes. “Be sure to send me a bill for the damage.”

  Annie managed to keep a cool smile in place as Marsh strolled outside. She noticed he was careful to walk over her rose, grinding it down into the shattered glass.

  ANNIE WAS SHAKING WHEN SHE REACHED THE GATE TO HER courtyard.

  Wind whipped at her face as she opened the back door and let herself into her favorite room, a study warmed by yellow walls and a red tile floor. After slipping off her shoes, she took a bottle of spring water from her refrigerator and crossed to the window overlooking the beach. She took a deep breath and stood for a long time, watching otters rock in the kelp beds. Usually this view of sea and sand filled her soul and brought her peace.

  Not today.

  She couldn't erase the memory of her ugly encounter with Tucker Marsh. An experienced lawyer, he obviously enjoyed throwing his weight around. Annie knew if she tossed him out, she would face a nasty lawsuit.

  A viselike pain settled around her forehead and the bottle in her hand shook slightly.

  Outside the wind tossed the ocean into whitecaps. A rising bank of clouds signaled a storm.

  She had to keep her head. Her lawyer could tell her how to handle Tucker Marsh. Even if he decided to play hardball, she'd hold her ground. There would be no private dinner—or any other personal contact.

  What if he went after the resort?

  Annie shivered. Wasn't it worth a few casual touches if it meant Marsh would leave Summerwind alone? And if Marsh wanted more than a few casual touches?

  Something gripped her shoulder.

  She spun around, and the bottle flew from her hand.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “ROUGH AFTERNOON?”

  Annie stood stiffly, surrounded by puddled water, feeling her heart pound.

  “Don't move. You'll slip.” Sam leaned a crutch against the wall and tilted her face up to his. “You look beat. If I were a real macho hero, I'd pick you up and carry you to that couch, but so much for fantasies.” After some fumbling, he managed to pick up the fallen plastic bottle and toss a towel down over the water. “Watch your step.”

  Annie didn't move.

  “Go sit down, Doc. That's an order.”

  “I don't want to sit down.” Annie was barely aware of him guiding her to the couch.

  “Want something to eat?”

  “No.”

  “Want to yell at me?”

  “No.”

  “How about a drink?”

  Annie shook her head.

  “I suggest a single-malt scotch, nicely aged and smooth as silk.”

  “I don't want a drink and I don't want to talk.”

  “In that case we could just sit here and glower at the sea. Or maybe not.”

  His crutches tapped away over the tiles and a few moments later she heard him return. Something cold met her fingers.

  Annie looked at the inch of amber liquid in her glass. “I don't want it.”

  “Tough.”

  Maybe she did want it. Maybe the whiskey would chase away the memory of Marsh's smug face. Annie took a gulp and promptly broke into raw coughing.

  “Serves you right. Good scotch isn't meant to be guzzled.”

  “I don't need the whiskey. I'm fine.”

  The ice cubes in her glass began to rattle, and Sam curled his fingers around hers, holding the glass steady. “Tell me what happened.”

  “No.” She took another careful gulp of scotch, grimacing as it burned over her tongue. “Why does this taste like diesel fuel?”

  “Call it an acquired taste.”

  Annie stared at her glass. “The rotten, sniveling weasel.”

  “You bet.”

  “I'll cut him into tiny pieces if he goes after me, my staff, or this resort.”

  “Damned right.” Sam frowned. “Who exactly are we cutting into pieces?”

  Annie paid no attention. “He's going to be sorry he came here, sorrier still that he broke my favorite Murano vase.”

  “Who, Annie?”

  She took another angry gulp of whiskey. “Tucker Marsh, of course. The man who would be king.”

  “What's he got against you?”

  “I wouldn't go to dinner with him—among other things.”

  Sam's voice tightened. “What other things?”

  “He seems to want me as his latest wall trophy. Or maybe I should say bed trophy.”

  Sam gripped his crutches, his face hard. “Which suite is his?”

  “He's in one of the guesthouses near the lap pool.” She took another gulp of whiskey, trying not to wince. “He'll be the one in the cashmere warm-up suit.”

  “Did he touch you?”

  “Once or twice.” Even now Annie flinched at the memory. “But he was careful to make it seem like an accident.”

  Sam didn't answer. He was already halfway to the door.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing. Stay here and rest.”

  Annie took a good look at his face, and what she saw frightened her. “You can't deck him, Sam.”

  “Trust me, decking the man is only the start of what I have planned.”

  Crutches or not, Sam would be deadly, Annie realized. She shot to her feet. “He's a guest here, and this is business. I fight my own battles.”

  “Oh, he'll be all yours, just as long as I have a few minutes with him first.”

  Annie caught his arm. “If you touch him, he'll ruin you. He'll make up a story about cold-blooded assault and he'll find ten upstanding citizens to back him up. After he's done, your reputation will be in shreds. You'll be lucky to get a job cleaning boats in Ukiah.”

  “I'll chance it.”

  “But I won't.” Annie moved, blocking his path. “You're not going, Sam, I mean it. Even if I have to take your crutches and hold you down.”

  “Go ahead and try.”

  Annie went still, shocked by the fury in his voice. He seemed a stranger, his eyes glacial and his face strained. She had the strange sense he didn't hear her. “Let it go, Sam. I'll handle this snake through legal means.”

  “In the end it's always lawyers protecting lawyers and the hell with everyone else. I've seen it too damned often. The dirty ones go free and the innocent ones pay.” The words seemed to churn up from some deep, bitter space inside him. “They're so clever you never trap them, never see what they are until it's too late. This time one of them is going down hard.”

  Annie was certain he wasn't listening to her.

  Memories? Was his past finally coming back?

  “This time I've got proof.” He was muttering, completely oblivious to her.

  Annie took his hand. “Can you hear me, Sam?”

  “Hear what?” He looked down, his eyes narrowed. “What's wrong?”

  “You. You said they weren't getting away, not this time. You said you had some kind of proof.”

  Thunder rumbled in the distance. Sam stared out the window for a long time, then shook his head. “For a moment it was real, Annie. Somehow I know it was deadly important. Now it's gone again.”

  “You'll remember.”

  “Will I? Maybe I'm a burnout. Maybe I'll always have this hole where my memories should be.”

  “Do you w
ant to give in? Say the word and we'll stop.” It was a calculated challenge, and Annie prayed she hadn't pushed too hard. He had already driven himself harder in two days than most men did in two weeks.

  “No.” He braced his good shoulder carefully against the wall. “I'm not throwing in the towel. But what I really want to do is this. ”

  His fingers framed her cheeks, and the brush of his mouth came without warning. Annie barely heard her own sigh of pleasure. She was already leaning closer, her arms sliding around his neck, her body warm and restless.

  After so many days of worry, she couldn't focus on the reasons this was wrong. All she knew was how good it felt to touch him.

  Her fingers slid to his shirt. Blindly, she tugged at the buttons, burrowing to find the heat of his skin while he took her mouth again, harder now, his hand opening at her hips and urging her against his thighs, his own need blatant.

  Annie closed her eyes as he fisted her skirt and shoved it upward to explore the curve of her hips. She tilted her head, opening her mouth against his, giving a tentative brush with her tongue. Sam's rough hands tightened, anchoring her as their bodies met.

  “More,” she whispered.

  Sam pulled away, breathing hard. “I want you. God help me, right here and now.”

  “So why are we still talking?”

  His hand rose, cupping her breast. He frowned as he felt the signs of her arousal. “Because we both need to know what we're getting into, Annie.”

  Reality and logic were returning and she didn't like the feeling one bit. “I won't read anything into this if you won't. Or are you telling me you've changed your mind?”

  “Does it feel as if I have?” His face was strained. “I'm just trying to keep things straight.”

  “I'm not. I'm tired of keeping things straight. For once I want to be completely bent, absolutely reckless.”

  Her heart pounding, she stared up at him, feeling the tension in his body. “You're supposed to grab me hard and jump me, McKade.”

  “I'm considering it,” he said thickly.

  “Consider it faster.” She wanted to be witty, sophisticated, confident.

  Grace Kelly in To Catch a Thief.

  Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's.

  “My palms are sweating,” she muttered. “I think I'm going to faint.” Was there lightning outside or had she only imagined it?

  Sam tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Take a deep breath. That should calm you down.”

  But Annie didn't want to be calm. She didn't want to think too much either. Right now not thinking felt wonderful.

  She closed her eyes, hyperaware of his leg moving between hers. “Breathing doesn't help.”

  “It's like that sometimes.”

  She leaned into him, remembering every detail of his body. He had been a slow, powerful lover, and their nights together had left Annie shaken by her sensual response.

  Then one morning he had sailed away with no promises and no explanations.

  Could you ever go back? she wondered.

  Sam's eyes darkened as she found the button at the top of his jeans. His stomach was hard and muscled, and touching him felt so good it left her dizzy. “Done considering yet?”

  “I was done two days ago,” he muttered as he freed her skirt.

  OUTSIDE IN THE COURTYARD, IZZY FROZE, ONE HAND ON THE doorknob.

  He heard the low rustle of clothes, saw the two shadows framed by the window. The silhouette told him all he needed to know.

  That was one hell of a kiss.

  And it looked like a kiss was only the start of what they had in mind.

  He took a step back, wondering what the people in D.C. would say about this development. Izzy decided they weren't going to find out. Annie and Sam were two good people who deserved all the happiness they could find. Regulations or not, he wouldn't interfere, nor would he report this.

  His pager began to vibrate. Wind snapped up from the beach as he scanned the terse message.

  Code Red.

  He suppressed a curse. Sam's level of security had just been upgraded.

  He didn't waste time pondering the cause. After a final glance at the pair in the window, he headed for a quiet spot to contact Washington and find out what the hell had gone wrong now.

  “ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THIS, ANNIE?”

  “You don't see me running away, do you?”

  Sam's fingers covered hers, then tightened. “I can't carry you to bed. Hell, there's a lot I can't manage to do right now. Maybe this is a bad idea.”

  Annie smiled. “I can walk just fine.” Her smile faded as Sam continued to stare at her. “What's wrong?”

  “Sorry.” He tilted his head, frowning. “Touching you like this feels strange.”

  Annie felt a sudden jolt of nerves. “Strange how?”

  “Familiar.” He studied her intently. “Did we meet somewhere before the accident?”

  There was that shaky sense of lightning somewhere close again. Calm, Annie. Remember this lie is for Sam's good, no matter how much it hurts.

  She kept her voice steady even though she was jelly inside. “If we'd met, I like to think you'd have more than a vague impression.”

  “You're right.” He shook his head. “I've gone back and forth, questioning every thought and searching for the memories so often that everything's tangled up together. I guess that's what happens when you get thrown from a bus.”

  Annie didn't move. “How do you know that?”

  His brow rose. “Because …” He frowned. “I just do.”

  “You remembered, Sam. No one told you the details of your accident.”

  “Someone must have. Probably a nurse in the hospital.”

  Annie shook her head, gripped by excitement. “No details, doctor's orders. You were supposed to remember by yourself. And you just did.”

  He rubbed his neck slowly. “Okay, maybe. Just a little. I'm almost afraid to believe it.”

  “It's just the start. Congratulations.”

  He didn't smile back. “I've got a long way to go, Annie.”

  “Is that supposed to frighten me off?”

  “I think it's supposed to frighten me off,” he muttered.

  One part of Annie's mind warned that touching him like this was folly. He had an amazing body, one that had already begun to heal. When he was whole he would walk out of her life again, without a backward glance.

  But the sane, reasonable part of her mind paid no attention. The drum of her pulse drowned out all logic and thought of tomorrow. Her skirt rustled, slipping to her feet, and she heard Sam's breath catch.

  He slid her white camisole upward. Her nipples rose tight and hard against his palms. “We should probably stop right here.”

  “Do you want to stop?”

  “Hell, no. Then I wouldn't get to see the rest of you. I've never wanted anything so much.”

  Annie shivered at the urgency in his voice, at the friction of his callused hands. She stepped out of her skirt. “Then don't stop.”

  Before she could finish, a sharp crack echoed through the courtyard. Cursing, Sam grabbed her waist and pushed her forward. “Down, down. Now!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  SAM HELD ANNIE BENEATH HIM, IGNORING HER MUFFLED PROTEST. Warnings screamed in his head, sounds mixed with jagged images. Memories, he realized.

  The humid darkness of a South American jungle.

  A rocky bay somewhere off the coast of Thailand.

  No details. Just the pounding adrenaline burst that signaled danger.

  Sam was trying to see outside when he felt Annie tug at his wrist. “Stay low,” he snapped. “They could be targeting the window.”

  She finally managed to work her head out from beneath his shoulder. “Who? What are you talking about?”

  “Save the questions.”

  “Sam, I don't think—”

  His hand clamped down over her mouth as a shadow moved along the wooded slope beyond the window. “Don't move. Is that unde
rstood?”

  Feeling her tense nod, he pushed away and crawled awkwardly toward the door, cursing his clumsiness. Every nerve was on alert and his heart was pounding.

  Head low. Limbs tucked. Present the smallest possible profile while moving fast and silently.

  Patterns were returning. He realized he was used to quick response against hostile fire. Most of all he was familiar with being a target under the worst kind of odds.

  Through the swaying foliage, Sam saw the shadow flicker, weaving closer. By instinct, he reached for the knife strapped inside his boot. Except the knife wasn't there.

  He cursed softly, feeling the deep prick of habit and training.

  Stay low.

  Never offer a target.

  Always have an escape route.

  “Sam? Annie?” A familiar voice drifted from beyond the window. “You two okay in there?”

  “Hell.” Grimacing, Sam pushed to his feet to find Izzy silhouetted against the gathering twilight. Izzy had a pistol flat against his thigh, muzzle facing the ground.

  “Yeah, don't shoot. We're here. Give us a minute.”

  Sam grabbed his crutch and maneuvered to his feet, shirt in hand. He was all too aware that Annie was watching him, her face pale and anxious.

  Irritated too, he realized when his sweater was flung against his chest.

  “Don't forget this.”

  “You're angry.”

  “As amazing as it may seem, I don't enjoy being tossed to the floor, caveman style. If it was necessary, I want to know why.” Her hands trembled as she glared up at him. “What's going on, Sam?”

  He extended a hand to help her up.

  Annie stared as if it were toxic waste.

  “Look, Annie, it was pure instinct.”

  “I thought I knew what I was getting into, but I don't.” Her voice was tight. “How much danger are you in?”

  He jammed a hand through his hair. “I don't know,” he said with absolute honestly.

  “Then find out,” Annie said. “That didn't feel like a practice drill, Sam. On some level you were expecting to be attacked.”

  His eyes darkened. “If you want me to leave, I'll arrange it. Just say the word.”

  She started to speak, then looked back toward the window, where twilight was slipping into true night. “They told me there would be some precautions. I knew about the need for secrecy, of course, but nothing like this. Not jumping at shadows and expecting armed attacks.”