by Diana Duncan
"You should know what we're dealing with." He left, quickly returned and handed her two checks. "You saw these before. What did you think?"
Puzzled, she turned them over. "Sav-Mart payroll checks."
"But one's real and one's counterfeit. Problem is, we can't tell them apart because stolen checks were used as templates to make perfect phonies. Counterfeit checks from big companies are showing up all over the Northwest. The Treasury Department has been tracking them for nearly two years, but every time they think they're making progress, they run into a dead end. The bad guys are always somehow one step ahead."
Tessa frowned. "That's why you suspect someone in law enforcement might be involved?"
"Yeah, plus the fact that our previous agents on the inside were murdered. So I came in deep undercover. Only my boss knows I'm working this, and he's top-level security. A few days ago, we arrested a check passer who gave us some information, but wanted immunity before he'd tell all. While we were working out the details, the suspect hung himself in his cell. We knew the checks were in the cash delivery to your branch. The robbery got them into my hands without tipping off the crooks or burning my cover. The checks confirmed the one common thread we've found."
Every trace of the carefree rogue had disappeared. All business, his cool, serious gaze bored into hers. Tessa stared at a very different Gabe—the dangerous man his enemies faced. Icy fingers crawled up her spine.
"The real checks are being stolen from Oregon Pacific Bank. So far, the crooks have cleared over eight million dollars."
"Eight million?"
"A hell of a motive for murder." He grimaced. "And one of your co-workers is up to their neck in blood."
* * *
Chapter 5
« ^ »
"What?" Tessa gasped.
"The mole has to have high security clearance. The setup is sophisticated, ingenious, and impossible to trace. That is, until you stumbled across the evidence. If you'd called security—" Gabe's dark brows slammed together, and he clenched his jaw. "You'd be bunking beside Gregson in the morgue."
Her stomach churned. "That's why you kidnapped me."
"When I realized you'd seen the checks, I couldn't risk leaving you behind. I'd hoped to let you go none the wiser. No chance of that anymore."
"So now what?"
"I have to find out who's running the operation, and protect you." He tapped his pursed lips with a long finger.
Tessa stared at his sculpted mouth, the memory of his recent kiss burning through her brain. She gulped a swig of hot coffee.
"I can't make you disappear without tipping off the bad guys. I can't trust anyone else with your safety. And your inside connections at Oregon Pacific Bank will come in very handy." He flashed a wickedly sexy smile. "Yeah. Looks like we're gonna be roomies."
The room tilted as every molecule in her body hummed in response to his gorgeous smile. She straightened. She would not let out-of-control hormones jeopardize her future. "Absolutely not."
He sobered. "These guys will kill you with less thought than taking out the garbage. Gregson's isn't the first suspicious body to be found downriver with a new view out the back of his head. I doubt they'll risk attracting attention with a public hit, but if they catch you alone, all bets are off."
She scowled. "But my wedding arrangements."
"If they succeed, you won't have to worry about that." He scowled. "Or anything else."
"I refuse to let those criminals ruin my wedding." She crossed her arms over her chest. She was so close to achieving her dream. Nothing short of a nuclear war would stop her now. "You'll have to compromise."
"I could tie you up and lock you in a safe house, you know." His sober gaze didn't look like he was joking.
"You wouldn't dare." Would he?
"Don't kid yourself. If I could guarantee your safety, you'd already be there. Okay, I'll figure out the wedding stuff." He shuddered. "But stick close and do what I say, when I say."
She squared her shoulders. "To a point," she warned darkly. "How am I supposed to explain you to my friends and my fiancé?" How would Dale react to the news that she was living with another man? During their two-year relationship, she'd never seen him ruffled. A purely female part of her hoped he'd respond with at least a small show of jealousy. Men in love were supposed to feel proprietary, weren't they?
"Later." He glanced at the complicated gauges on his watch. "First we take the chopper back to the city."
During the trip, he grilled her about the checks and the incident with Gregson. But she thoroughly enjoyed the ride, and his company.
When they landed at the Riverside airport, he turned to her with a knowing smile. "Nice, huh? The first time, fear of the unknown takes away from some of the fun. The second ride is usually much better." He arched a dark brow. "It doesn't take long to get addicted to flying."
She willed away the annoyingly delicious shimmer caused by his double entendre. "Are we taking the bike?"
"No. I've got a Viper here at the airport."
"What happened to the Jaguar?"
"Using different vehicles keeps them guessing. I've also changed plates on the 'Vette, so the car can't be traced to the robbery. Here's the plan. Your place, fifteen minutes to pack, then we're bugging out to my house."
"I can't pack in fifteen minutes!" And she needed a lot more time to get used to the idea of living with Gabe.
"You'd better, because ready or not, I'm hauling your cute little six out of there."
"You said that before. What's a six, or do I want to know?"
He chuckled. "Military slang. Tail, rear end—"
She held up a hand. "I get the point."
They climbed into a white Viper with tinted windows and Gabe whisked them to her apartment with his usual Mach speed.
She reached for the handle, but he stopped her. "I check it out first." He thrust out his hand. "Keys?"
She pulled them from her purse and slapped them into his palm. She might owe him her life, but his macho routine set her teeth on edge.
Gabe opened his door. "If anything happens, hit the horn." He sauntered around the front bumper with confident grace. In the blink of an eye, he disappeared into the bushes.
Minutes passed. Tessa fidgeted. Should he be taking so long? Had something happened? Maybe she should go find him. She gripped the door handle.
Before she could open the door, Gabe reappeared and swung it wide. "Are you the only tenant in this building?"
"Yes. There's a small music store on the ground floor but it closes at four. I live in the loft above."
He shifted into "doing business mode." Body taut, his alert gaze scanned the area. With his right hand tucked under his black leather jacket, he escorted her into the elevator. There was no amusement in him now, only deadly purpose. She shivered. Under his carefree exterior lurked a competent, dangerous cop.
The elevator doors slid open. A massive gun appeared in his hand. He preceded her into the one-room loft. "Uh, Tessa? I hate to tell you this, but unless you're a really messy housekeeper, somebody tossed your place."
Her possessions lay strewn about the apartment, everything viciously rifled, and then discarded like worthless trash. Tessa's knees wobbled and she clutched the kitchen counter for support.
"Easy, sweetheart." Gabe grasped her arm to steady her, his eyes dark with concern. "It's okay."
"Those criminals were in my home. They pawed through my things—"
"They're long gone." He squeezed her arm reassuringly. "I'll make a call and have this cleaned up in two hours."
"But—"
Something thudded against the window.
Before she could turn, his foot swept Tessa's legs out from under her. His arms wrapped around her waist and took her down. Holding her on top of him, he hit the floor. In a split second, he rolled her beneath him, the back of her head cradled in his palm. "Don't move," he whispered.
Heart hammering, she lay under his taut body. His clean, male scent as
sailed her senses. She fought to gasp in air, but her breathlessness had nothing to do with his weight on top of her and everything to do with his nearness.
His gun edged past her cheek. He pressed her face into his shoulder. "Shh. Don't move."
A chorus of plaintive meows shattered the tense silence.
Relieved laughter burst out of her. "Andrew, Lloyd and Webber."
He glanced at her, disbelief etched on his features. "Andrew, Lloyd and Webber?"
"The music store owner's cats." She grinned. "When she leaves, they climb the fire escape and beg for snacks."
"Cats." Gabe breathed out a sigh. His body relaxed.
Intimately joined from shoulder to hip, Tessa stared up at him. The golden afternoon light gilded the planes of his face, emphasizing the cleft in his chin. Her gaze roamed over his sculpted mouth. Remembering his brief, exciting kiss, she licked her suddenly dry lips.
He groaned. She jerked her gaze up and saw his smoky green stare fastened on her mouth.
"Relax, sweetheart," he urged, his voice a hot, husky whisper as he touched his lips to hers. His fingers lightly traced her cheekbones, caressed the curves of her ears. No one had ever touched her with such gentleness, such aching tenderness. Her body melted like warm honey.
His moist breath feathered over her temples, and her lashes floated down in languid surrender. She was rewarded by a soft kiss on each eyelid. His lips journeyed along her jawline, nibbled behind her ears and down her neck, heating her body, heating her blood. She basked in the delicious sensation. Her mouth parted in a sigh.
Gabe teased her lower lip with his velvet tongue. He bit gently, then suckled the sensitized flesh, wringing a moan from her. His mouth tempted, enticed, seduced—and she wanted more. She opened to him and his tongue glided inside, stroking slow and gentle against hers, inviting her response. Her stomach fluttered at the minty taste of him, cool, and yet at the same time, unbearably hot. Fire scorched her nerve endings, every inch of her alive and quivering. More alive than she'd ever been.
Tentatively, she returned his kiss, her tongue meeting his in a seductive duet. His breathing quickened, and he explored her mouth with a sensual, thorough expertise that shattered her control.
She wanted, needed, like she'd never needed before. She couldn't get enough. Her arms slid around his neck, urging him closer. She moaned into his mouth, and his low answering murmur vibrated through her.
Reality slammed into her with a jarring crash. Her heart stopped, then kicked into painful, irregular thrusts. She was kissing a man she barely knew—while engaged to another! She tore her mouth from his and shoved at his chest. "Get off me!"
He frowned in confusion. "Tessie? What's wrong?"
Dazed, and livid with herself, she lashed out with the only weapon she had. "Maybe everyone was right to question me about you after all."
He froze, his eyes darkening. "I didn't force you. You wanted that as much as I did."
"I most certainly did not," she lied. If she admitted it, that would make her like Vivienne, and she would not go there.
He was trembling. Had she done that to him? "Baby, your brain might be clinging to denial, but your body sure as hell knows what it wants." He jumped up and stalked to the other side of the room. "Get packed."
She clambered to her feet. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
He prowled toward her, all lean muscles and dangerous grace. "This is not an optional exercise. Pack, or I'm hauling you out right now without whatever you need."
"I won't—" she started, then thought better of pushing him. He looked furious enough to follow through, and she had no doubt who would win. Provoking a confrontation was foolish. Pivoting, she marched to the closet and grabbed a new suitcase, purchased for her honeymoon. She threw it on the bed, and began flinging in clothing at random.
An echoing note from her baby grand piano made her jerk her head up. He was seated at the oak bench. "What do you play?"
"Music," she snapped.
"Don't be mad." Looking as lost and bewildered as she felt, he gave her a shaky smile. "I couldn't have stopped myself from kissing you right then if my life had depended on it." He cleared his throat and his gaze slid away. "I was out of line. I apologize."
Confusion swirled through her, her muddled feelings tangled in a knot. She shoved a taupe sweater on top of the growing pile. "I'm promised to another man. A good man. You can't just kiss me whenever you get the urge. I need to be able to trust you."
"You can trust me, Tessa." He returned her gaze, his jade eyes dark with suppressed emotion. He held up a two-fingered salute. "I won't kiss you again. Scout's honor."
"You were a Boy Scout?"
His gaze sidled away again. "Not exactly."
He looked so much like a little boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar, she couldn't help herself. She chuckled. "You are something else, Bond, Gabe Bond."
"I believe you used the word nice?" He wiggled his brows at her.
"I said oversexed gorilla." Shoving aside the sickness in her soul at the mess the criminals had made of her apartment, and the urgent desire to stay and set things right, she strode to the bathroom to pack her cosmetics. Her safety was more important.
"So, what do you play?" he called, plinking on the keys.
"Classical, mostly." She dropped makeup into a zippered bag. "Dale and I do violin and piano duets in performances Mother Winters organizes. Lucille has a wide circle of wealthy acquaintances and we raise money for children's charities."
"You like stuffy classical junk?"
"I don't dislike it, and classical is what that crowd wants to hear." She returned to the main room.
"What sends you soaring? What do you play when you can let go and pound out what you want?" He hit a discordant chord, making her wince. "You ever cut loose, Tessie? Go wild?"
She avoided the uncomfortable question. Tessa Beaumont didn't do wild. "I need to water my plants before we leave."
As Gabe rose from the piano bench, the phone rang. His eyes sparked a warning. "Let the machine pick up."
She huffed out a sigh, but obeyed.
"My dear, are you there?" Lucille's refined voice, tight with panic, broke into the room. "It's another disaster—"
She snatched up the receiver. "Mother Winters, what's wrong? Has something happened to Dale?"
"You are home, thank goodness! It's Frederick. He absconded with the money from his business and fled the country. The deposits were paid, but the balances are gone. We'll never book another wedding coordinator at this date!" Lucille's voice rose. "What are we going to do? The wedding is ruined!"
Oh, no, another glitch. A big one. Maybe Mel was right and fate had again intervened to stop her. Tessa banished the horrifying thought and hurried to soothe her future mother-in-law. "We'll confirm the details and repay the balances in person. Let's get together with Mel. Between us, we can fix it."
"Excellent idea." Lucille calmed. "We can meet at the club, at six."
Ignoring Gabe's frown, Tessa glanced at her watch. "Six?"
Gabe shook his head in an adamant no.
"Fine, I'll see you then." After a quick goodbye, Tessa hung up.
He stalked over to her. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Our wedding coordinator flew the coop. It's an emergency."
"Great. Just what I need." His forehead creased in a pained expression. "You mentioned watering your plants." He waved a hand. "I've been in jungles with less foliage. I'll help, or this could take all day."
Thank heavens whoever had searched her apartment hadn't touched her precious plants. "I love plants. I like nurturing them, watching them thrive under my care." Her cheeks heated. "Probably more than you wanted to know." She gave him instructions on watering the kitchen plants and hustled to the bathroom to tend her ferns.
"Uh-oh," he called.
"What now?" She rushed to the kitchen.
He leaned over the counter, peering into a brass pot. Wearing a puzzled frown, he pointed t
o a shriveled pile of leaves. "I touched it, and the thing croaked."
Tessa chuckled. "That's a Sensitivity Plant, genus Mimosa pudica. When touched, the plant wilts. In about thirty minutes, it will look good as new."
"If you say so." He shook his head. "Time to go."
Downstairs, Gabe stowed her bags in the back while she climbed into the front. He settled into the driver's seat. "Want to listen to a CD?"
"Sure." The car roared away from the curb. She sifted through his collection of classic rock and Latin music, choosing a Latin CD. A rhythmic beat filled the car. "I've never listened to Latin artists. The music has a … I can't quite put my finger on the feeling. I like it, though."
"Sensuality?" His smoldering green eyes perfectly illustrated the concept. Sensuality indeed.
Her pulse skittered, and she looked away. "It might help if I understood the words."
"Sometimes you don't need words." Mingled with the throbbing drumbeat, his dark, smooth drawl shivered over her, and heat twisted in her belly. She started to tremble.
"But I guess understanding the lyrics would help."
"Do you?" she managed to croak, turning back to him.
"Sí señorita," he replied, his eyes sparkling. "Foreign languages come in handy in the super-spy business."
"So, you speak Spanish and what else?"
Gabe shrugged.
"Don't be modest Mr. Bond, it doesn't suit you."
He chuckled. "I can get by in French, Arabic, German, Japanese, Italian and a smattering of Soviet and Chinese dialects."
She'd seen the quick intelligence lurking under his playful demeanor, but had still underestimated him. "I'm impressed."
"Don't be. I like to know what I'm ordering in a restaurant when I travel."
He turned onto a quiet residential street. The space between houses increased, until finally he entered a long driveway flanked by stone pillars. Yellow leaves fluttered down from the oak trees lining the driveway as he drove up the winding path that sheltered the house. He stopped the car in front of a gray stone cottage. "Home sweet rented house."
He ushered her inside. Her shoes sank into thick ivory carpet, the creamy color warming the soft white walls hung with verdant forest paintings. A brown leather sofa and chairs piled with light-blue, emerald-green and ivory pillows sat in an inviting semicircle around a huge beige stone fireplace.
