by Linda Conrad
As much as he had saved their lives and she was beginning to rely on him as a competent partner, in her mind, Tarik was still kind of a clown. A gorgeous, sexy charmer who could become anything as long as it was in his own self-interest. The exact opposite of the man she’d always assumed would capture her heart. A man like her father.
Reciting once again the mantra she’d decided to live by, Jass reminded herself that despite her intense reactions toward Tarik Kadir, it was only her hormones talking. She could handle him. She could handle anything that came her way. After all, she was a pro.
Tarik tried to pretend the heat and the obvious lust between them were not serious concerns. But he knew better.
When the woman wanted to prove she could masquerade being in love, she did it in spades. His still slamming pulse did not bode well for the cover story tonight. Cool. He needed to remain cool.
A man like Zohdi did not lose his mind over a few kisses. Yet it was all Tarik could do a few minutes ago not to fall down on his knees and beg her to kiss him again.
What would he be like later? In bed with the cameras running? Could he restrain his own raging lust and yet fake making love to her? This whole business was definitely not what he’d signed up for.
Bosque feigned giving them turndown service as he checked the bathroom and bedroom terrace for bugs. But he was ready to leave them alone much too soon to suit Tarik.
On his way out, Bosque murmured in his ear, “Bath and terrace are clear. Found a hidden camera in a wall sconce in the bedroom. Good luck.”
Yeah, right.
Filling his lungs with what he hoped was fortifying air, Tarik returned to Jass’s side. “Let’s share this meal, my sweet, and proceed to the dessert.” Taking on Zohdi’s persona again, he kissed her hand. “We’re overdue for time alone.”
He caught the quick but frantic look of panic in Jass’s eyes, but when she spoke, she was all Celile. “Hmmm. I can’t wait.”
After they’d picked at their food for an hour and found inane subjects to discuss while sitting across the table casting lustful gazes at each other, it was time for them to play their parts as two lovers alone. He stood and pulled her into his arms, making a big show for the camera.
“Enough of this.” He looked down into her eyes. “Come to bed with me.”
Her gaze carried not a trace of panic this time. In fact, Jass seemed the perfect picture of a woman so much in love she would do anything her man asked. He was the one worrying about the act.
She stepped back and looked up at him through long, thick lashes. “Help me out of this costume, darling.”
Ah, hell. He scooped her up in his arms and strode into the bedroom, slamming the door to the sitting room behind him. He would deal with the one camera in the bedroom because he knew where it was located.
Positioning himself between the wall sconce and the bed, he let Jass slide down his body until her feet hit the floor. “The only camera in here is on the wall behind me,” he whispered as he helped her regain her footing. “Stay where they can’t see you.”
She didn’t act as if she understood him, but he noticed her give the wall behind him a quick glance over his shoulder. Then twisting around, she presented him with her back.
“The zipper, love. I can’t reach.”
Swallowing hard, Tarik reached for her zipper but his fingers froze mid-motion. He didn’t want to expose her to prying eyes this way. Was stripping her in public supposed to be part of his job description?
He made a quick decision. “My costume first, sweetheart. I want to take my time with yours.”
If anyone was going to be the star of this strip show, it would be him. His naked body would be the thing they had to focus on first. And he hoped to hell they got an eyeful through that camera lens.
Pulling the pirate’s shirt and undershirt over his head, he pitched them behind him without looking. With any luck they would land on the wall sconce, but thus far his luck hadn’t been running hot.
Next he quickly dispensed with the pirate’s boots and pants. Standing there stark naked was no big deal for him. He could care less who saw what. But once again he faced the problem of helping Jass with her zipper. Her back was still turned and he felt grateful for small favors.
Could he maneuver them under the bedcovers before she must face both him and the camera full on?
Moving in close behind her back, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and began lowering the zipper with the other. The process seemed to take forever. His body grew harder with every millimeter.
Without clearly thinking about what he was doing and where they were, he buried his nose in her neck and breathed in the lush scent of her. Every cell, every atom in his body went on full alert and rebelled at the sudden onslaught of intoxicating need. He desired the woman under the wig and brown contact lenses. But that’s not who he held.
She tugged at his arms and he let loose long enough for her to wiggle out of the cat suit. Standing there in only a red bra and thong panties, she still had her back turned. She hadn’t allowed herself to be observed in anything more than what she might’ve worn to the beach. Good work, partner.
What would Zohdi do at this point?
Same thing Tarik would do if all else were equal. Groaning, he reached down and swept her up in his arms again. Without turning them around, he carried her to the bed and unceremoniously dumped her there, jumping in after her a split second later.
He threw himself over her, covering her body with his own. Holding her still, he placed both hands on the sides of her head as he insinuated himself between her thighs.
Closing in for a kiss, he whispered against her lips, “I’ll cover us with the blanket in a moment. Just play along for now.”
But then Jass moaned. Not out of any pain or act, but she seemed clearly lost in a real passion. Apparently she wasn’t playing the same game he was.
She squirmed and opened her eyes to look up at him with a glazed look. Her expression was enough of a shock to make him forget all about his mission. All about the camera. Until finally, he even forgot his own name.
Chapter 9
What is Tarik saying?
Jass struggled to come out of her haze and listen, but the blood boiled in her ears. With her pulse screaming through her veins as though she were pulling down five Gs, her body throbbed with passion. And all because of the masculine body currently lying suggestively between her legs.
Geez. She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to snap herself out of it. They were supposedly working a sting. She was Celile. But he was not the real Zohdi.
Work. Work. Work. This was an important assignment and not the most intimate experience she’d ever had. Worse even than the idea of taking a risk with her career, there’d been a camera trained on them this whole time.
She’d lost her mind. But, oh man, what a terrific way to go insane. The sexual chemistry between the two of them left her soaring. Tarik’s mere touch jolted her with an intense excitement, sparking a conflagration that had sent her up in flames. His naked and aroused body surprised her, but it shouldn’t have. He was so much more than she imagined. The most potent male she’d ever seen.
Like spontaneous combustion, she’d found herself wet and set to explode.
But they were only acting for their mission. Right?
Remember the mission.
“Hold on.” Tarik left her long enough to drag the covers up and over their heads, covering them completely from view.
How could he remain unaffected? Well, not totally unaffected, she’d noticed. He was hot and pulsing…and huge. He’d been ready just like she was.
But his mind had stayed in the game. A trait she’d better learn how to mimic.
“Laugh,” he demanded in a raspy whisper. “Or giggle. Anything that makes it seem as though we’re doing what it looks like in this bed.”
His words actually made some sense through her clearing fog. At last. She wiggled out from underneath his body and rolled over
to face him—while both of them remained hidden under the covers.
Watching him closely, she opened her mouth and let out one of the loudest moans imaginable. “Ah. Ah. Ah.” She forced the volume higher. “Oh, Zohdi. Oh. Oh.”
Finally, she wound herself up and screamed incoherently. A thing she had never done during the throes of passion in her entire lifetime.
Tarik actually smiled as he murmured low, “Nice work, agent. I’d like a repeat performance someday. But not for the cameras.”
That did it. He had to move away. Now.
“Get out of bed and turn off the lights, Zohdi.” She gritted her teeth. “And then bring me a robe.”
Why hadn’t the man thought to turn out the lights in the first place?
In a hushed tone, Tarik answered. “Okay, but I’m betting turning off the lights won’t help. The camera is probably NVC, night-vision capable. Most surveillance equipment is set up that way. I’ll gladly get the robes.” He scowled and rolled out from under the blankets, leaving her covered and furious.
Seconds later he pulled down the covers and immediately threw one of the terry bathrobes over her. “Get up, Celile,” he announced in a loud voice. “You need a shower and I have work to do on the laptop.”
“What did you say?” It was easy to fake a little indignation. She felt every bit of Celile’s part.
Tarik turned his back. “Get up.”
“Well, isn’t that romantic? You bastard.” She shoved her arms into the robe and stood. “I’m going. But if you think for one minute that you’re in for a repeat performance tonight, you are out of your mind. You and your damned laptop can sleep out on the terrace.”
Grasping the robe around her like a shield, Jass marched into the bathroom and slammed the door. Once alone and out of camera range, she leaned both hands heavily on the countertop. Hanging her head and breathing in and out through her mouth, she tried to calm her shaky nerves.
Realization began to sink in. He had actually picked a fight in order to save them from having to sleep together tonight. The whole scene back there suddenly became clear. Everything he’d done in the bedroom—stripping himself and not her, carrying her to the bed and covering them from view—all of it was done for her benefit. To save her from embarrassment.
Tarik Kadir had honor. He’d wanted her as much as she’d wanted him, but he wasn’t going to give in to it in front of an audience. Amazing.
She tore off the Celile wig and popped out the brown-colored contacts, ready to scrub off all traces of the bitch who was currently ruling her life. A hot shower was definitely in order.
But then again, maybe Jass would be a lot better off taking a cold shower. The more she thought about Tarik in the buff, the more she wished he hadn’t been quite as professional and thoughtful. She was starting to believe that he’d been right and they would indeed have a repeat performance someday.
But at that time he would not be dressed in sheik’s clothing and she would not be wearing a brown wig and brown contact lens or answering to the name Celile. And there would definitely not be any cameras allowed.
It might’ve been one of the longest nights of his life. Grumpy and stiff, Tarik sat across the breakfast table from Jass, drinking coffee and feeling miserable about ever opening his big mouth last night. If he had only shut up, stayed in bed and not deliberately picked that fight with her, it could have turned into one of the best nights he’d ever had.
The only thing saving him from abject misery this morning was Jass’s expression. She still resembled Celile, but there was something about the way she looked at him that told a different story. When she’d apologized for the argument that had kept him out on the terrace all night, she’d used Celile’s voice. But the emotion in her eyes said his real partner was every bit as sorry for their difficult circumstances.
He reached over and took her hand, also feeling a little sorry that he still couldn’t speak from the heart. “You are forgiven, my darling Celile. And I apologize for being an ass. Let’s spend the day making it up to each other.”
Jass opened her mouth, but right then a loud knock on the suite door captured their attention.
“I’ll get it.” She stood and went toward the door.
He watched her move, fascinated by the sure and steady stride. And by the curve of her hips. The way she filled out her blouse. And by the ever-so-slight pout she always wore on her lips.
God help him, but he was becoming helpless to think of anything else when he was around his partner.
Before Jass could make sure it was Bosque, the door burst open and a couple of well-dressed goons barged into the room as if they’d had their own key. They both pulled snub-nosed Uzis from under their suit coats and pointed them at Jass.
“You will come with us.” The more heavyset one of the duo spoke in Russian.
Tarik was on his feet in an instant and moving toward Jass before he even realized what he was doing.
She didn’t seem fazed. “Put those weapons away, you imbeciles.” She made the demand in the best Russian dialect he’d ever heard.
Tarik froze where he stood. She was handling it far better without him.
The man with the gun suddenly looked as if someone had punched him in the gut. He shook his head as though he were a prize fighter who’d heard bells ringing.
“But the boss…he requests your presence for Carnivale this weekend.” The other man’s hand began to shake as he slid the Uzi back under his jacket.
“Mr. Eltsin will not be happy to learn you treated his guests and customers in such a manner.” Jass threw her hands on her hips in a perfect imitation of something Celile would do. “We’ll accompany you to Mr. Eltsin’s. But we will only leave after finishing our breakfast and packing an overnight bag.”
She turned her back on the men as though she could care less about their weapons. “Wait out in the hall.”
Tarik fought to keep the grin off his face. Man, she was spectacular. He followed her into the deep, walk-in closet in the bedroom and found her shoving high-tech gear into a collapsible backpack.
“Aren’t you going to need some clothes, too?”
She glanced up at him and scowled. “A couple of sexy outfits and a few cosmetics, maybe. But this equipment is much more important. You pack the weapons.”
“Okay, boss lady.” With a silent chuckle, he went to work.
All the passion and romance, even the friendship, was buried for now. The covert agents were back on the job.
They rode through the streets of Rio in the backseat of a silver Mercedes sedan. Tarik’s gut instincts were shouting that this was the wrong move for them to make. He didn’t believe starting out with two well-armed goons, without first having contact with either the Task Force or his brothers, could lead to anything good.
As their sedan climbed into the hills above the city and drove past the shantytown areas known as favelas, his bigger worry became how to control Jass. Since Eltsin’s henchmen had shown up, she’d become Celile in a deeper way than ever before. He could no longer find Jass inside her eyes. But even with his unease, he still trusted her to do whatever necessary for the mission. She was a professional and his partner.
All along the scenic drive at the crest of the mountains, Tarik stared out his window at the city and the bay spreading below them. Tiny white sailboats floated on the turquoise blue of Guanabara Bay. Sparkling white sands blistered in the hot sun of Ipanema Beach. The greens and grays of Sugarloaf Mountain in the distance were silhouetted like a picture postcard against puffy lavender and pink clouds.
Everything seemed painted in Technicolor.
His senses tended to remain on full alert during any mission. But for some reason today, on this mission, the world was brighter, sweeter than ever before.
The big hitch in the perfection, of course, was knowing Jass could be stepping into a rat’s nest of trouble at Eltsin’s place, completely unprepared for what Tarik felt was coming. Yes, she’d fallen deeper into her cover and had
become Celile, the Messenger. But Tarik knew the Taj would be there. And they were trouble with a capital T everywhere they went.
Worse yet, he would have to avoid being around the Taj as much as possible. Since he was disguised at Sheik Zohdi, Tarik didn’t imagine the Taj Zabbar officials would immediately recognize him as a Kadir. But he would have to be particularly careful with his accent, and under no circumstance could he let on that he understood their language.
One slipup would mean disaster for the Kadirs, for this mission and for Jass. That meant he was left dealing with the fact that she would have to be the public face of their mission. Tarik took a breath, wishing he could talk to her privately.
After another half hour of silence, Andrei Eltsin’s gated villa appeared like a castle in the lush green mountainside overlooking the sprawling Rio metropolis and picturesque ocean far below. Tarik steeled himself to arrive in the manner of the mysterious terrorist he’d been playing. Rearranging his head scarf to partially block his face, he reviewed his game plan. Covert work was all about showmanship. And becoming a dangerous and volatile Middle Eastern terrorist meant shutting his mouth and keeping to himself. Despite the circumstances and the danger to Jass.
The Mercedes passed through a heavily guarded gate and rolled up the long drive past multicolored flowers, evergreen shrubs and a manicured green lawn. They pulled up in front of a sprawling and opulent Moroccan-style building and stopped before twenty-foot-tall, mahogany doors. It was one hell of a dramatic entryway with ornate grillwork and terra-cotta tiles on the steps. Yes, indeed, this Eltsin character had a penchant for high drama.
The two goons bailed out of the car as soon as it came to a stop and opened the back passenger doors. “The boss wants you to relinquish your weapons before you enter his private quarters. Turn them over to us now and avoid being frisked inside.”
Jass came out of the Mercedes like a queen. “Not a chance, big boy.” She held on to her wide-brimmed straw hat with one hand and put the other on the goon’s chest. “Now do I look like I have any weapons on me?”
