Enemy Mine

by Lindsay McKenna

  Groaning, Kathy threw up her hands. “Okay, okay, I can certainly spend his money for kids who have nothing.”

  “Great,” Mac exclaimed. “We’ve got a deal, then.” He picked up his cell phone and punched the automatic redial. After taking off his earphones, he made a call to Cuzco.

  Kathy couldn’t hear him because of the earphones she wore. Plus, the noise in the cabin was so high that even if she’d taken them off, it would have done no good. But just looking at the dazzling smile on Mac’s face as he talked, the ruddiness coming to his recently shaved cheeks, made her think that whoever he was talking to was someone he liked a great deal. Maybe he was calling a girlfriend in town? After all, he might have to escort Kathy around, but he wasn’t sharing the suite with her. He’d have to go somewhere else for the night. Kathy didn’t like the jealous feeling that flowed through her as he talked on the phone.

  Of course he has a woman, you dolt. He’s a damn good-looking man. Respectful of women. Says all the right things to them. He’s engaging. Has a great sense of humor. Isn’t stuck on himself.

  Yeah, Mac Coulter was definitely a catch. This guy seemed perfect, if not for the fact he knowingly worked for a drug lord. Still, as Kathy rubbed the area of her heart with her fingers, she felt the acid sensation of jealousy eating at her. Her attraction to him had just tripled.

  Mac flipped the lid down and tucked the cell phone back in his pocket. Once he put on his headphones, he adjusted the mike close to his lips. “Okay, it’s settled.”

  “What’s settled?” The date with his girlfriend? A bed to lie in? Making love to a woman who was undoubtedly Latin, hot, sensuous and stunningly beautiful?

  “The French nuns who run this orphanage. I was talking to Sister Bridget. She’s in her sixties,” he said. “I told her we’re flying in and to start expecting truck-loads of stuff rolling up to their doors by late this afternoon. I asked her what they really needed and she said shoes.”

  “Oh…” Kathy felt mortified. So much for the green-eyed monster in her! Mac’s voice was buoyant with joy. She saw it in the curve of his beautiful male mouth, which now beckoned so much more strongly to her. “I thought…well, if you want the truth, I thought you were calling your significant other.”

  Mac glanced over at her. They were climbing to thirteen thousand feet now, the helicopter straining as the blades searched for oxygen. “There’s no one in my life right now,” he told her, his tone serious. He thought he’d made that clear right after she’d returned from her trip through the jungle. Now the look in her eyes was a surprise to him. She seemed absolutely thrilled to hear that he was single. Why?

  And then Mac realized that even though four months had passed, she was still just as drawn to him as he was to her. That wasn’t good news and he knew it. But the smoky gaze she turned on him was clearly decipherable: Kathy liked him.

  She was forbidden fruit to him. Off-limits. As an undercover agent, he didn’t want any serious relationship with a woman. No way. And yet, as he drowned in those china-blue eyes of hers, Mac could feel the walls of his resolve crumbling. He was in big trouble….

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “WELL, ARE YOU PLEASED with your shopping spree so far?” Mac asked as their chauffeur drove them away from the orphanage. The Quero driver, Luis, turned onto a side street and headed toward the Liberator Hotel.

  Kathy pushed several strands of her hair off her brow and smiled. “Very pleased. I’m afraid I’m not one of those women who enjoys shopping till she drops.” She sat back and relaxed on the soft burgundy leather seat of their sumptuous black Mercedes. They zoomed across the city to the Plaza de Armas, the central square of Cuzco. The hotel was located a couple of blocks away from the busy center.

  It was nearly dusk and Cuzco, a city of cobblestone streets and stone buildings created by the hands of the Incas, glowed in the rosy light of the setting sun. Ancient gray monuments, mostly temples, stood alongside more modern buildings. This was a place of Catholic churches as well, their spires rising higher than anything else in the city.

  Mac absorbed the look on Kathy’s face. When they’d landed this morning, he’d had Luis take them to several children’s stores in the city. Kathy rung up a whopping ten thousand dollar bill on shoes, clothes and school supplies by the time she was done. She’d obviously attacked this project with a fierce passion.

  “You’re really good with kids,” he said. “I don’t know who liked you more—them or the nuns who run the orphanage.” Kathy still looked radiant. Children made her laugh and smile, and this was the first time Mac had had this kind of one-on-one with her since her arrival four months ago. The experience was exhilarating for him and made it obvious to him how lonely he was without a vibrant woman like Kathy in his life. Yet he had to resist her.

  “Thanks. I love kids.” She studied her hands as she splayed them out in front of her. “Phew, I’m looking forward to a hot bath. I’m grimy!”

  The orphanage was huge, with too few nuns to manage the numbers of children. They came off the streets of Cuzco, everything from day-old babies to teenagers. The building was an old Inca structure with beautifully carved stone walls, but it was drafty and dust constantly filtered in from the city.

  “You’ll have a whirlpool bath in your suite. I think you’ll like your digs at the hotel,” Mac said with a knowing grin. He watched as she took out a linen handkerchief from her leather purse and wiped off the worst of the offending dust from her hands. Beautiful, long hands.

  Mac wondered what it would feel like if she touched his body in heated exploration. All day long as he’d shopped with Kathy for the orphanage, he couldn’t get her out of his mind—or heart. She was like a child with the children, and now he understood why Tiki and Sophie both gravitated to her, why they’d flourished in her warm care. The word nurturing had been invented for her, Mac thought. And it all seemed to come naturally to her.

  One of the many drawbacks to his undercover work was that he found himself starving for a woman’s genuine attention. It had been over a year since he’d had female companionship. Not that he wanted one-night stands. No, he wasn’t cut out for that emotionally, he knew. What he craved was a real relationship—someone he could confide in, hold, and in his darkest hours of suffering, someone who would hold him.

  Kathy Lincoln represented all those possibilities to him. Mac knew that, more than ever, he had to be careful. Above all, he couldn’t risk getting involved with anyone at the estate or in Garcia’s employ, even though the patrón had just given him the green light to do just that: pursue her.

  Mac wondered again if she was a mole, someone planted by Garcia to check on the rest of the employees and report back to him.

  Yet, when he looked into her eyes, he saw innocence. He wondered how he could suspect her at all. Coulter knew that the best spies in the business appeared exactly like Kathy—above suspicion. Their looks belied their real purpose. And somewhere in his deepest instincts, he sensed Kathy Lincoln had an ulterior motive for being at the villa. She hadn’t shown up here by accident. So what was her real reason for coming to Garcia’s villa?

  Luis pulled the Mercedes up to the stone lobby of the Liberator Hotel, where flags of many nations waved in the breeze. Mac got out and held out his hand to Kathy. She gave him a warm smile and reached for it. He was delighted as her long fingers slid into his. Her hand was strong, nourishing his starved heart with even this brief contact. A rush of desire flowed hotly through him as he helped her out of the car. The doorman, dressed in a green uniform with gold braid and a garrison cap, nodded and opened the doors for them. Mac reluctantly released Kathy’s hand and ushered her inside the huge, airy lobby.

  Kathy was instantly taken with the Incan architecture within the hotel, not to mention the brightly colored orchids and bromeliads. At the center of the lobby was a huge silver samovar to serve coca leaf tea to arriving visitors. Incans had chewed the leaves for thousands of years to stop altitude sickness. With Cuzco so high in the Andes, peop
le not yet acclimated to the elevation always got some form of the sickness unless they drank the tea.

  Mac went over and poured her some, handing her the cup. “It’s good and it will stop you from coming down with high-altitude symptoms,” he told her. “You stay here and I’ll get you checked in.” He motioned to the plush, expensive leather couches that lined either side of the tea service.

  The coca leaf tea tasted somewhat bland, Kathy found, but not unpleasant. Her gaze never left Mac, who moved like a military pilot. Well, hadn’t he been? She could spot her own type anywhere. She had a thousand questions for him. Maybe tonight, over dinner, she could ask some of them.

  Every time she looked at Mac, she had to remember to paste the label Drug Dealer all over him. It was tough to do, especially after today. If Mac Coulter was the bad guy Kathy kept telling herself he was, why had he detoured her shopping spree to children in need? That showed he had a heart. And it was obvious to Kathy that the nuns at the orphanage loved Mac. The children all called him “Papacita” and hung around him for a touch, a hug, a kiss on the noggin or a quick wrestling match. He even gave “horsey rides” to the youngest children, neighing and galloping around the room. How could she not like this guy?

  In desperate turmoil, Kathy sipped her tea and watched well-heeled tourists enter the hotel. It was the only one like it in Cuzco and she heard German, Italian, French and British English as visitors strolled through the magnificent architecture of the lobby.

  She turned her gaze back to Mac as he walked toward her, key in hand. He was definitely eye candy. His shoulders were broad and thrown back with confidence. And his gray eyes, alive and dancing with warmth, made her heart beat heavily in her chest. Plus that mouth of his! God, would she ever get over it? Its seductive shape and that careless little-boy smile melted her resolve even more. Groaning internally, Kathy stood and placed the empty cup back on the tea service table.

  “Okay, Cinderella, your palace awaits.” Mac cupped her elbow and walked her toward a bank of elevators at the rear of the hotel.

  “I don’t need a palace,” Kathy protested. His hand was comforting on her elbow as they both strode out of the lobby. He was a little taller and that sense of protection radiated from him.

  “Well, tonight enjoy the good things life gives you, bright angel.” Mac caught himself. Damn! He’d slipped—again! What was wrong with him? He gave her a quick glance out the corner of his eye and saw her blue eyes widen. Then Kathy flushed. Great. He’d just embarrassed her.

  “Sorry, I get carried away at times,” he murmured, guiding her to the right and down a highly polished stone hall toward the elevators.

  “Do you call all women by that name?” Kathy asked a little breathlessly. Panic rifled through her because he’d kept his distance until now. Kathy was more afraid of her responding to Mac than vice versa. All day she’d fought his nearness, the wild desire to reach out and touch him, to bathe in his sunlit smile. She carefully pulled out of his grasp as they waited for the next elevator.

  “No, not really,” Mac said, running his fingers through his dark hair. “It must be high altitude sickness getting to me.” He gave her a sheepish grin that he hoped she would take as an apology.

  “Yeah, right. You’re so full of it, Coulter,” Kathy muttered.

  Chuckling, he held up his hands in surrender. “Guilty on all counts, Ms. Lincoln. Will you forgive me?”

  Kathy eyed him warily and tried to fight against her heart. “Yeah, I’ll forgive you this one time.” She headed into the elevator as it opened, and he followed at her heels. Turning around, she stared at the highly polished brass doors as they whooshed closed.

  Mac smiled. “Thank you.” As they sailed upward, he decided to move to a much safer topic. “The presidential suite is on the top of the hotel,” he informed her. “A penthouse. Patrón Garcia uses it when he comes here.”

  “I see. Where will you be?” Kathy gave him a scalding look that spoke volumes: she’d be spending the night alone in the suite.

  “Down on the third floor. Room 301. That’s my assigned room when I have to stay here overnight and fly people from Cuzco up to the patrón’s villa. Because of the morning fog and hazardous mountain conditions, airlines usually fly in to Cuzco only in the afternoon.”

  “So you spend your fair share of time here?”

  Shrugging, Mac said, “It’s a place to sleep. Usually, I’m over at the orphanage helping out anytime I’ve got an hour or two to kill before a flight.”

  “I see….” The doors opened and Kathy escaped down a sumptuous carpeted hall with colorful Peruvian rugs hanging on the walls. Mac moved ahead of her and opened the double white doors.

  “You’re home,” he said and stepped aside. The hotel staff had already brought up her luggage, one suitcase. Mac quietly closed the doors as Kathy entered the palatial suite of rooms. In the foyer was a gleaming pink Italian marble table. An expensive burgundy hand-blown vase, filled to overflowing with a variety of tropical flowers, mostly vibrant and exotic orchid species, sat on the table and brightened her suite. The room smelled like spicy vanilla because of the orchids.

  Gulping, Kathy looked around. The place was decorated in Italian renaissance, with filmy white drapes across the windows that showed off all of Cuzco. The small city sat in a cuplike valley surrounded by craggy brown mountains.

  Kathy glanced over at a bottle of champagne cooling in a polished silver bowl filled with ice. Two fluted crystal glasses sat on the inlaid table.

  “Wow…” she said.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” Mac murmured, coming to her side. Kathy turned around, her eyes huge as she surveyed the lavish penthouse. And then Mac saw her frown.

  “Not happy with the place? It’s not bugged, by the way.”

  “Well…” Kathy whispered, running her fingers across the inlaid wood of the table to her right. “This is such a waste of money. When you look at those children in the orphanage and all those poor kids in rags on the streets of Cuzco, and then you look at this place…”

  “Yeah,” Mac said ruefully, “I know.”

  His eyes revealed something she’d not seen before. What was that look? Anger? Frustration? Bitterness? She studied Mac in the quiet, which was broken by the splashing of a fountain in the corner.

  “Do you know who you’re working for?” Kathy demanded. Then she tensed. The words had exploded out of her mouth before her brain could censor them. Oh, God! The look of surprise on Mac’s face disappeared quickly.

  “Sure I do—a very rich Peruvian employer,” he told her smoothly. Mac began to wonder who the hell Kathy really was, especially when he saw the shock in her eyes after she’d asked the question. What kind of game was she playing? “Do you know something I don’t?” he asked playfully, while analyzing her facial expression. Obviously upset, she frowned and then brushed a few blond strands away from her cheek. He was glad that to his knowledge this suite was not bugged. If it had of been, she could be in a heap of trouble with Garcia. Kathy knew more about the patrón than she was letting on. And this was dangerous.

  “Uh, no.” What a fool she’d been! Her instinct told her Mac knew Garcia was a drug lord. That look he’d given her, one of sudden suspicion, made her feel as if she were on unsafe ground with him. Oh, damn! Why had she let her guard down? She was so incompetent at keeping up a facade! Why had she ever thought she could pull this off? Somehow, Kathy had to scramble to fix it so that Coulter didn’t go back to Garcia and squeal on her.

  Sure as hell, gossip was alive and well at the villa. Everyone watched everyone else. Any unusual infraction was reported to Therese, who then took the story to Garcia. Kathy had seen a number of people suddenly disappear—there one day and gone the next—because of some innocuous thing they had said or done.

  “I meant…” Kathy paused, lifting her hands, “…all this money being spent on this when I could see it going to the orphanage instead…or to all those young children we saw on the streets. It just breaks my heart,
Mac.” When she said his name in her husky voice his eyes widened and then narrowed again. This guy was not what he seemed. She felt it in her gut. Her intuition screamed at her that he was a survival expert with unknown abilities. Who was he? Unable to ask and completely frustrated, Kathy smiled into his eyes. Might as well use her woman’s wiles to advantage here, shouldn’t she?

  Mac melted a little beneath her smile. But it hadn’t reached her eyes. Who was fooling who, here? The errant thought that Kathy might be an undercover DEA agent suddenly struck him. No, that was impossible. His ATF handler would have mentioned that to him. As far as Mac knew, he was the only U.S. government agent on this case and inside the Garcia drug empire at this level. Still, he wondered….

  “Listen, after I have a bath, how about we find a place to eat? I’m starving!” That was a big lie. Kathy wanted to just sit and hide in here for the night and sweat it out. Somehow, she had to persuade Mac that she wasn’t a threat to the Garcia empire. One slip—just one—and she’d done it. Angry at herself and uncertain exactly how to repair it other than to suddenly leave the villa, which she wasn’t going to do, Kathy stared at Mac and waited for his response.

  “Sure. I know just the place. It’s a family-owned restaurant, La Troucha, that serves the best Peruvian food.” He looked at his watch. “How about I come knocking at your door in about two hours?”

  “Great,” Kathy stated, relieved he seemed enthused over her unexpected invitation.

  “I’ll show myself out,” he said, and left.

  Standing there alone, Kathy gazed around the suite. Automatically, she looked for cameras. There didn’t seem to be any. And then her heart pounded. What if the place was bugged? Had her question been recorded? Mac had said it wasn’t. But could she believe him? Perspiration flooded her. Hands damp, she nervously wiped them against her jeans. If her question was recorded the tape would be taken to Garcia immediately. And what then? Her nerves jangled, Kathy turned and went to find the bathroom. Once more she’d proved that she wasn’t undercover material.