The Soldier’s Secret Daughter

by Cindy Dees

  They stepped into the lobby of the AbaCo building. The soaring atrium, nearly eight stories tall, was decorated from top to bottom with metallic silver Christmas decorations. Personally, she didn’t like them. They seemed too cold and impersonal. Hard, even. But then, that wasn’t a bad approximation of the personality of her employer, she supposed.

  The shipping firm was intensely German, although it had offices in a dozen major cities around the world. But AbaCo took its Teutonic persona very seriously. There were rules for everything, the rules got followed and the cargo got where it was going on time. Or else heads rolled.

  “Can I hang up your coat for you?” Jagger asked pleasantly.

  She looked up from bending over awkwardly as she tried to pry off one of her boots. She’d brought a pair of shoes to change into for the party, in her bulky purse. “Uh. Wow. That’s really polite of you. I guess so.”

  She postponed her boots and straightened. He was behind her immediately, slipping her parka off her shoulders as gracefully as if it were a mink coat.

  “Nice dress,” he murmured on cue.

  Man. He didn’t miss a trick. He’d clearly aced Date Etiquette 101. Whoa. Back up. Date? They’d met in the parking garage and ridden up in the elevator together. She’d indulged in a momentary fantasy, and that was about as close to a date as they were ever going to get. He was already striding away from her, in fact.

  Although in defense of her fantasy, he was carrying her coat to the cloakroom for her. Presumably, he would return with a ticket for her to pick it up later. So he would have to speak with her at least one more time tonight. One more moment to indulge in the idea of a “them.” Her and James Bond. She smiled blissfully. In her world, these little fantasies were about as close as she ever got to the real thing, so why not enjoy them?

  If only she had the guts to turn her daydreams into reality.

  One thing AbaCo did very well was throw a party. Caterers had set up a buffet line at the far end of the atrium, and she knew from previous New Year’s Eve parties that the food would be delicious. A band was playing background music at the moment but would shift into dance music as midnight approached. And then there was the open bar, of course. Bartenders ranged behind it, ready and waiting to serve nearly a thousand employees and their guests at this, the North American headquarters for the company.

  Jagger was back almost before she’d had time to slip into the daring pair of red stilettos she’d given herself for Christmas. She would never dream of wearing them to work, but she hadn’t been able to resist them when she’d seen them. They reminded her of Dorothy’s shoes from The Wizard of Oz, but naughtier, with their open toes and sling backs. She was suddenly fiercely glad she’d splurged on them as Jagger strode back toward her. Her hands went to her hair nervously, smoothing the static electricity from her hat out of its silky brunette length.

  His mouth quirked into a smile as if he enjoyed her sudden self-consciousness. Laughter jumped into her eyes in response. After all, it really was a very good joke to think that he might actually find her attractive.

  His gaze rather improbably slid lower as he moved toward her. Right. As if there was anything to look at in her drab body. She supposed she was reasonably proportioned, but she was no supermodel. She actually had breasts and hips, and her legs, although shapely, weren’t a mile long. She barely topped five foot four.

  Even more improbably, a slow grin spread across Jagger’s face as he took in the view, from her slinky red dress all the way down to her sexy shoes and back up again. Oh. My. Goodness.

  He must be drunk. He was acting as though he actually found her attractive.

  He held both hands out to her as he reached her, taking her hands in his. “You look fabulous,” he declared. A security guard had drifted over toward them and Jagger turned to the guy. “Have you ever seen Emily look so fantastic?”

  The guard, Horace Lighterman, grinned and nodded at her. “You do look great tonight, Miss Grainger.”

  Okay, so the male half of the human race had all gone mad. But she was willing to roll with that. Especially if by some strange miracle the madness included her suddenly being perceived as cute. Or even hot.

  In keeping with the party spirit of the evening, she replied playfully, “Thanks, Horace. You’re looking pretty spiffy yourself. I love the hat.” The guy had on a pointed cardboard affair that looked utterly ridiculous with his police-style uniform. The silliness of the combination somehow poked fun at AbaCo, and she found that immensely appealing. Her employer could stand to be ridiculed now and then. Any other day of the year, Horace wouldn’t have dared to wear that hat, and she wouldn’t have dared to find it funny. But New Year’s Eve was about letting loose. About taking chances. About new starts.

  Someone called for Horace from the security desk just inside the lobby and he turned away from them.

  “Come on,” Jagger announced. “Let’s go have fun.”

  Let’s? As in him and her? As in wow. There must be definite magic in the air tonight. Either that or a hallucinogen in the water supply.

  They’d barely stepped into the atrium proper when there was a ruckus behind her. Several plainclothed AbaCo security guards clustered at the front door, looking like angry wasps. One of them was holding what looked like a black backpack.

  “Dance with me,” Jagger announced, more of a command than a question.

  His arms went around her and he swept her into a waltz, spinning her effortlessly across the dance floor. Most of the couples dancing were older, executive types. She recognized several vice presidents and their wives, and frankly, she felt a little funny out here with them. But Jagger was such a spectacular partner that she rapidly lost all self-consciousness. He guided her exactly where she needed to be, kept her precisely on the beat and whisked her around the room like Cinderella. Who knew waltzing could be so much fun?

  She wasn’t sure what made her dizzy. It could have been the swooping, turning flight he took her on around the dance floor, or maybe it was the way he smiled down at her—as if she were the only person in the entire world and the two of them were alone at their own private ball. Either way, it was pretty sensational.

  The dance ended, and he walked her off the floor, steering her toward the bar and a cool drink as if he could read her mind. She sipped at the gin and tonic he brought her. She never drank under normal circumstances. But in the past ten minutes, she’d already established that tonight was anything but normal.

  “How come I haven’t seen you around here before?” she asked curiously. Which was to say, how on earth had she missed spotting or at least hearing about a hunk like him if they worked in the same building?

  He laughed easily. “I was just thinking the very same thing about you.”

  “Ah, well. I work in my little cubicle most of the time. They hardly let me come up for air, let alone poke my nose outside of the Special Cargo Department.”

  His gaze flickered, but his smile never faltered. He murmured, “Let’s not talk about work tonight, shall we? Tell me more about you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I guarantee you, I have led the most boring life in the history of mankind.”

  “A woman who wears shoes like those? I find that very hard to believe.”

  She laughed. “Busted. I never wear shoes like this. They were an impulse buy. Pure foolishness.”

  “I like the impulse.”

  His eyes sparkled with laughter, but his voice slid across her skin like forbidden sex. It sent a shudder through her that bordered on orgasmic. This wasn’t happening to her! She looked up at him, perplexed.

  “What?” he asked, immediately serious.

  “Are you for real?”

  One eyebrow lifted and the devil-may-care grin was back. “Does it matter? Or shall we both just lose ourselves in the moment and see where it leads us?”

  A very James Bond-like response. No wonder the Bond girls never held out for a long-term commitment from him. He was so attractive they were willing
to settle for a night or two with him rather than never be with him at all. Of course, the possibility of something more than a one-night stand wasn’t off the table between her and Jagger yet, either. Heck, she was thrilled that the prospect of a one-night stand was even on the table!

  Which was to say, the world had definitely gone mad this New Year’s Eve.

  She sipped her drink and smiled back at him coyly. “The night is young, isn’t it? Let’s see where it goes, indeed.”

  Chapter 2

  Jagger was staggered by Emily Grainger. Not in his wildest dreams would he have guessed that a parka could unwrap to reveal this jewel. She was perfect. And scary as hell. He didn’t go for real women, the hearth-and-home kind a guy could envision having his babies and keeping a home with. Oh, no. She was not his type at all.

  So why, then, was he so attracted to her he could hardly keep his hands off her?

  Not good. Not good at all.

  The first thing he noticed about her was her flawless, translucent skin. Contrasted against her lush brunette hair, the combination was beyond striking. Her eyes were big and dark, her lips ripe for the kissing. He preferred her rosy mouth after the first gin and tonic lifted away that pale pink lipstick. She looked eminently more kissable now.

  But what absolutely blew him away was the look of delighted wonder in her eyes. Her gaze was so innocent, so guileless, so…pure, he almost felt inappropriate touching her. In his world, the people were hard. Cynical. Out to stab you in the back before you stabbed them. All the playfulness, all the innocence had been burned out of men like him—of him—long ago. But she had both. In spades. And they drew him in as effortlessly as a spider coaxing a fly into its web. The world’s most innocent spider.

  He’d accuse her of being childlike if it weren’t for the intelligence lurking just below the surface of that warm chocolate gaze. He could all but hear the wheels turning as she processed and analyzed everything and everyone around her. It was a strange dichotomy. But no doubt about it, he sensed a first-class mind at work. Thankfully, she seemed in total ignorance of men like him, however.

  His mouth turned down cynically. He was a user. He took what he needed from the people around him and then threw them away like so much discarded trash. A girl like Emily certainly deserved better than that. But as sure as God made little green apples, he was going to use her anyway. It was who he was. He didn’t know how to do anything else.

  But a warning vibrated deep in his gut. This woman might leave an indelible mark on him. She was a permanent kind of woman who could shake the very foundation of his impermanent world.

  He yanked his mind back to the job at hand. If and when the AbaCo security team finally relaxed a little, he’d sneak off and make his way up an elevator and into the offices above. He’d break into the company’s computers and download everything he could find on the company’s shipping operations. And hopefully, somewhere in there, they’d find a lead on his missing fellow agents. If he was really lucky, his colleagues would find something criminal with which to charge AbaCo and launch a wider investigation of the secretive company’s practices.

  But until that moment when he had to bail out on her, he could make this a night to remember for Emily Grainger. It was the least he owed her for her unwitting help. Not to mention, he seemed compelled to flirt with the danger this woman represented to him. He fed her compliments, laughed with her and did his very best Prince Charming imitation for her.

  As she continued to dance and talk with him, he plied her with equal parts alcohol and enticement until her eyes blazed with utter infatuation. And somewhere along the way, his plan of attack changed. Why ditch Emily after a few hours to take a one-shot stab at breaking in tonight when he could play out this thing between them and potentially turn her into a long-term infiltrator of AbaCo from the inside?

  Hypocrite. He just wanted an excuse to spend more time with the girl.

  No, dammit, that wasn’t all this was about. It was good business to turn the girl.

  Nonetheless, his gut twinged. Did he have it in him to make a pawn out of sweet, trusting Emily? Hell, a woman like her should never look twice at a man like him. He really should warn her off. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. God, he was a jerk. He didn’t deserve Emily Grainger.

  “Are you okay?” A soft hand rested on his chest, jolting him back to the present. Damn, she was perceptive.

  He grinned bleakly at her. “Yeah, sure. I was just pondering what New Year’s resolution I should make this year.”

  “Hmm. That’s a good question.” Laughter twinkled in her warm gaze. “Mine is going to be to wear more red shoes.”

  “Gonna take more chances, huh? Gonna try living on the edge?” he teased. The thought of her existing in a world like his was ludicrous. But he couldn’t begrudge her the dream, he supposed. The reality was so much darker than a woman like her could ever imagine.

  She nodded firmly. “Yup. That’s me. Danger Girl.”

  He laughed, genuinely amused. She had no idea just how dangerous to him she was. He commented lightly, “Well, then, my resolution is to help you make your resolution come true.”

  Her gaze snapped to his. Not slow on the uptake, his Emily. She hadn’t for a minute missed the implications of that. He was talking about continuing to see her after tonight. He looked her in the eyes, losing himself in their sweet depths. To have a woman like this for himself, to bathe himself in all that goodness, to soak up her innocence and generosity, to be loved forever by someone like her—

  He cut the fantasy off cold. Danger Girl, indeed.

  “Wanna take a walk?” she murmured. “Get a little fresh air?”

  He grinned. “I think that’s supposed to be my line. Then comes the part where I drag you into some dark corner and try to make out with you.”

  She grinned back. “Who says I’m not trying to drag you into the corner to make out with you?”

  He nodded his amused acquiescence. “Lead on. My body is yours to ravage.”

  He was shocked when she led him over to the elevators and punched the up button. She wasn’t going to take him up to her office—in the Special Cargo Department, no less—was she? Surely this op wouldn’t be that easy.

  He leaned down to murmur in her ear, “Are you planning to throw me down on your desk and have your way with me?”

  A fiery blush leaped to her cheeks. “Good Lord, my cubicle will never be the same now that you’ve planted that image in my mind!”

  “Think how much fun work’s going to be on Monday morning,” he teased.

  “I was thinking that we could go out to the water garden and stroll around.”

  Ah. The building’s tenth floor was not a floor at all. Rather it was an open-air terrace sporting massive columns and housing an elaborate outdoor modern art collection interspersed with, as she’d already alluded to, a bunch of fountains. All the good stuff in the firm was above that. It was the reason he’d come in through the roof—or at least tried to until that plan went completely to hell.

  The elevator opened, and she punched a security code into the number pad inside. He memorized the six-digit number as a matter of course. Emily Grainger was the brass ring and then some for getting the inside scoop on AbaCo. She so far surpassed his wildest expectations for this op that he could hardly believe his luck. And all he could do was imagine different ways to bed her. He was a cad. A sharp knife of guilt stabbed him.

  While he admonished himself to get over it and concentrate on his job, she reached out shyly to loop her fingers in the crook of his elbow. He gazed down at her intently and the smile faded from her face. She stared back at him, her pupils dilating until her eyes went black as she correctly interpreted his expression.

  The elevator dinged and the door slid open. She shook herself free of their mutual reverie first and stepped toward the exit. Rocked at the effect she had on him, he followed her outside. The wind was howling tonight, but glass panels mounted at intervals all around the edge of the terra
ce shielded the garden from the worst of it. Nonetheless, he took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

  He caught the surreptitious sniff she took, inhaling his scent. And something moved deep within him. Something protective. Possessive.

  They’d only walked a dozen steps forward before he spotted the first surveillance camera. This place was a freaking fortress, all right. All the more reason to give up on a simple break-in tonight. Better to cultivate Emily as a long-term asset, to spy for him from the inside.

  Distracted by thoughts of all those secret meetings they’d need to have with each other, he ducked his head away from the camera out of long habit, and immediately could’ve kicked himself for having done it. Dammit. If the camera operator was half as good as the rest of the AbaCo team, Jagger had just sent a big red flag up the pole. No innocent civilian reacted that way to a surveillance camera. But a spy most certainly would.

  He sighed. Nothing to do now but brazen it out. “Are you warm enough?” He smiled down at Emily.

  “It is chilly. But I enjoy the quiet.”

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, tucking her close against his side. “Better?”

  “Mmm,” she murmured. She sounded like a kitten after lapping up a bowl of warm milk. “Are you warm enough?”

  He chuckled. “I love cold weather. This is bracing.”

  She shook her head. “Give me a tropical beach every day of the week and twice on Sunday.”

  “I gathered that from the way you were bundled up when you arrived.”

  She laughed ruefully. “My mom always told me to dress like I expect my car to break down and be stranded for hours. I confess I have been known as a compulsive safety girl before. But no more, of course. I’m Danger Girl now.”

  He heard the whoosh of an elevator door behind him and held himself still, not reacting. He studied a red metal abstract sculpture in front of him. “That looks like a Calder,” he commented, ignoring the guards he felt approaching in the sudden twitchiness of his shoulder blades.