Covert Makeover

by Mallory Kane

  Sean sat on one side of her and Rafe sat on the other.

  “You’re absolutely certain?” Sean asked.

  Sophie looked at the photo again. “I recognize the look in his eyes, too.” She shuddered.

  Sean took the photos and stacked them, while Rafe pulled another folder toward them.

  “Okay, Soph,” Rafe said. “Now comes the hard part.” He spread out a dozen or so photographs, most of them small, and every single one of the subjects had a scar on the right side of his forehead.

  She stared at the array. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Where did all these come from?”

  Sean put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s a photo lineup. We can’t take any chances.”

  His hand was warm. She longed to lay her cheek against it, to soak up his strength and concern. But he squeezed her shoulder lightly and took his hand away.

  She drew in a deep breath. “So you mean all but one of these guys are ringers, like in a regular lineup. Okay. Let me have the magnifying glass.” Her hand shook as she held it over each photo in turn. What if she couldn’t identify him? She didn’t have to ask that question; she knew the answer. She had to make the proper ID. They were counting on her to give them a starting point.

  With her ID, they could check his identification papers, his phone records, recent purchases, any trips he’d made.

  While she looked at picture after picture, Sean’s cell phone rang.

  “What? When?” His voice took on a strained quality. He glanced at Sophie and Rafe, then walked out into the hallway.

  Sophie and Rafe exchanged a glance. She knew that Rafe was thinking the same thing she was. What if it was the kidnappers? She looked toward the door.

  “We’ll know soon enough,” Rafe said. “Right now, you need to concentrate on the photos.”

  She did. So far none of them looked like the guy she’d spent a few seconds in the elevator with. One’s scar was too high. Another one’s hair was too light. Another photo looked as if it had been retouched to give the appearance of a scar. Then she saw him. The man in the surgical mask.

  “This is him,” she said, tapping the last photo. She picked it up and held it close under the magnifying glass. “It’s him. I know it.”

  Rafe leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Good going, Soph. Now I’ve got to get the paperwork started so we can get his information.”

  She sat back in her chair, shaking. “Thank goodness. I was really worried when I saw all those pictures of men with scars on their foreheads.”

  Sean returned, pocketing his cell phone. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

  “Sean? What’s wrong? Has Mr. Botero heard from the kidnappers?”

  He shook his head. “No. Nothing like that. We need to go. Now.”

  “Majors?” Rafe stood.

  Sean’s even gaze met Rafe’s. “The call was personal.”

  Rafe eyed him for a moment, then nodded.

  Sean turned to Sophie. “We need to go.”

  “Sophie can stay here,” Rafe said. “I’ll be around all afternoon.”

  Sean shook his head.

  His demeanor worried Sophie. She stood. “Has something happened to Michaela? To Rosita?”

  Placing his hand at the small of her back, Sean silently guided her out of Rachel’s office and toward the stairs.

  “Sean? Are you still angry with me for going to lunch? Is that what this is about? I’ve apologized. I’ll stick to your side like glue from now on.”

  Her words only deepened his scowl.

  “Are you going to take me back to my apartment?”

  “I wish. Your apartment is a crime scene.” His voice was gruff.

  “Oh.” She should have realized that. For the moment she was homeless, and her only clothes were at Botero’s estate. “That puts me in a rather difficult position. I don’t have any clothes.”

  As they passed the receptionist’s desk, Vicki held out a fancy pink-and-white bag to Sean with a flirtatious smile. Sean ignored the smile, took the bag, and handed it to Sophie. “Yes, you do. Rachel took care of it. She sent Vicki out while you were having your two-hour lunch.”

  Irritated, she stopped. He was stubborn as a mule. “Do you think you’ll be over that any time in—say—the next five years?”

  He sent her a scathing look and walked out into the Miami heat. Clouds were building out over the ocean.

  “If you need to take care of a personal problem, why don’t I stay here? I’ll be safe. There’s no reason you have to babysit me.”

  He rounded on her. “There’s nothing I’d like better than to let you stay here with your top-secret buddies. But I can’t. I don’t want to trust your safety to anyone else. I need you alive.”

  Sophie suffered his intense stare. “So you’re arrogant, too, like the man in the surgical mask. You think you’re the only one who can do the job.”

  His frown grew deeper. “If that’s how you want to look at it. I call it being prepared. It’s my boss’s daughter who’s missing, and you hold the only clue to the identity of her kidnappers.”

  He clicked the remote lock on his car and climbed in. She got in on the passenger side. As she settled into the seat, he continued, “Every time I let you out of my sight, you get into trouble.”

  “So where are we going?”

  “There’s something I have to do.”

  After a few abortive attempts to start a conversation, Sophie closed her eyes and let the warm Miami sun shine on her sore forehead.

  She sat up when a right turn took the car into darkness.

  “So you finally decided to wake up?”

  “I wasn’t asleep. Where are we?” Sophie squinted, waiting for her eyes to dark-adapt.

  “At my apartment.”

  “Oh, no. Why would you bring me back here?” He didn’t want her at his home, near his daughter. What was he doing?

  They got out of the car and stepped into the elevator.

  “That was Rosita on the phone. One of her grandchildren broke his leg.”

  So he had no choice. He had to bring her here.

  “Is he okay?”

  Sean nodded as he unlocked his apartment and stood back for her to enter. “I don’t think it’s serious. But she wants to check on him.”

  Sophie started to answer when a tiny blond whirlwind blew into the room.

  “Dad-dee!”

  Sean’s face softened into a beautiful smile and he knelt in time for Michaela to throw herself into his arms. He stood, hugging her and receiving a big smacking kiss.

  Sophie took a step backward, retreating from the painfully sweet moment between father and daughter. She blinked at a ridiculous stinging at the back of her eyes.

  “Daddy. How did you come home so quick? You’re way early!”

  “I came to see my little sprout. Have you seen my sprout?” He kissed her forehead.

  Michaela jabbed her thumb into her chest. “That’s me. I’m your little sprout.”

  He laughed and hugged her again. “That’s right! I forgot.”

  Looking at the two of them hurt Sophie in a deep, hidden place. And yet at the same time, it was poignant and uplifting. She felt like crying and laughing at the same time. She also felt she was intruding.

  As she took another step backward, Michaela’s green eyes landed on her.

  “Daddy! It’s Soph-ee. You brought Sophie.” She wriggled around in his arms and reached out toward Sophie.

  “Sophie. You came to see me!”

  Sean held on to her as she strained toward Sophie. He raised his brows. “Aren’t you going to take her?”

  “I—” How could she tell him or his daughter that she knew nothing about children? That they frightened and saddened her, that she’d rather be caught in a crossfire than have to deal with a toddler.

  “Sophie… Daddy, I want Sophie to hold me.” Michaela’s voice threatened tears.

  “Okay. Here we go,” Sophie said tightly, holding out her arms and staggering a bit as Michaela
threw all her weight at her.

  She wrapped her arms around the sturdy little body.

  Oh, she felt good. Warm and alive and full of energy. She smelled fresh and new with a hint of bubblegum, and her hair was as soft as angel’s hair. Tears clogged the back of Sophie’s throat. At that moment if she tried to talk, she’d burst into tears. So she just hugged Michaela.

  “Ah, finally!” It was Rosita. She was carrying her purse. “Now I won’t be gone very long. I just need to see that little Joaquin is all right. Good afternoon, Miss Sophie.”

  “Hi, Rosita.” Sophie was surprised at the warmth with which Rosita greeted her. “I hope your grandson is all right.”

  “Ack, that muchacho. He will be fine. But su abuela must be there.” Rosita beamed.

  “La abuela sabe la mejor medicina,” Sophie said.

  Rosita chuckled. “Y usted es muy inteligente.”

  After Rosita left, Sean reached for Michaela. “What was that all about?”

  “You don’t speak Spanish?”

  He shrugged. “I got ‘grandmother’ and ‘medicine’ and ‘very smart.’”

  “I just said, ‘Grandmothers have the best medicine.’”

  For a minute, Sean looked at her oddly. “Rosita always referred to herself as my grandmamma. She used to tell me that.”

  Sophie smiled.

  “Come on, sprout,” he said, reaching for Michaela. “I’m sure Miss Sophie is tired of holding you.”

  Michaela’s hands tightened around Sophie’s neck. “No. Sophie, play my game with me.”

  “Michaela,” Sophie said, “I think your daddy wants you to go with him.”

  He held up his hands. “Oh, no. I’ve played her game, for hours. You deserve to have that pleasure. While you and Michaela are playing, I’m going to take a shower, then you can bathe and change if you want to.”

  Sophie stared at his smile as his little girl clung to her neck. She was surrounded with everything she’d ever wanted, and none of it was hers. She knew she was secretly poaching these loving moments from Sean, but he had so much love—from Michaela, from Rosita—he wouldn’t miss the tiny bit she stole for herself. It would end soon enough.

  WHEN SEAN CAME out of the shower a half hour later, shirtless and buttoning the top button of his jeans, he stuck his head into the living room to see how Sophie was faring with his daughter, who on her best behavior was a constant bundle of never-ending energy.

  The sight that greeted him put a crack in the brittle shell that housed his heart. Sophie was curled up on his leather couch with Michaela cradled in her arms, asleep.

  It had worried him that his little sprout had taken to Sophie so quickly and trustingly. Michaela was rarely wrong about people. She either loved them or shied away completely. He’d fully expected her not to like Sophie, so the fact that she’d asked about her every day had surprised and disturbed him.

  Right now, she lay in Sophie’s arms, her little face composed and trusting, limp with sleep.

  Sean raised his gaze to Sophie’s. She rested her head on top of Michaela’s, and her eyes were closed.

  He stepped closer. Her eyes were something else, too. He took another step.

  Her eyes were wet. She’d been crying. An unfamiliar ache started in his chest. He had the urge to wipe her tears away. No. He wanted to kiss them away. His jaw tensed as his brain quickly moved from a stray thought of a tender, platonic kiss to the uninhibited passion they’d shared in his bed.

  His arousal sprung to life, chafing against the tight denim of his jeans.

  She’s too much like Cindy, he reminded himself, but even that didn’t help. This was only the second time Sophie had met Michaela, and she was already sharing with her a moment more tender than Michaela’s mother ever had.

  He shifted from one foot to the other, trying to suppress his desire for her, but even thoughts of his ex-wife didn’t distract him from Sophie’s delicate features, her unconscious grace and sexiness.

  She opened her eyes. For a long moment they stared at each other. Sean had no idea what she was feeling, but his brain wouldn’t let go of the vision of her lying on her stomach, naked to his view, as he did his best to kiss away the pain of each of the small, cruel scars that marred her lovely body.

  “Do you want to put her to bed?” Sophie’s voice was barely audible.

  He nodded, but he didn’t move for a few seconds, until he regained control of his body. From the blush that rose in Sophie’s cheeks, she saw his struggle.

  As he crossed the room, her gaze slid down from his face, across his bare chest and down.

  He groaned low in his throat.

  “I see what you mean about her game,” Sophie whispered as he lifted his sleeping daughter from her embrace. “You could have warned me that it consisted of her running across the room and jumping into my lap over and over and over again.”

  Sean grinned at her as he cradled Michaela. “And deny you the pleasure of finding out for yourself? Never.”

  She smiled back at him, a genuine, unguarded smile, and he nearly gasped to see her exquisite beauty.

  “Go ahead,” he said, nodding toward the bathroom. “The shower is all yours. Use the one in my bedroom. I’ll put Michaela in her bed.”

  Sophie stood. She put out her hand to pat Michaela’s back as she passed.

  Sean looked down at her. As if she felt his gaze, she raised her face to his and he saw the traces of tears on her cheeks.

  “Why were you crying?” he murmured.

  Sophie shook her head. “She’s just so perfect. So beautiful.” Her voice broke. She pressed her lips together.

  At that moment, Sean realized that whatever Sophie was hiding, it had to do with a child. He didn’t know if it was lingering fear and distrust because of her own childhood, or if it was something more recent. But the tightly controlled, carefully hidden sadness behind her eyes stirred him in a totally different, non-physical way.

  Clutching his baby tightly to him, he acknowledged for the first time just how desperately he wanted to know more about Sophie Brooks. He wanted to know her thoughts, her fears, her desires.

  “Sophie?” His lips formed her name almost soundlessly.

  A flicker of fear brightened her eyes for an instant, then she dropped her gaze to his lips.

  Leaning down, he kissed her softly on the mouth. She parted her lips and sighed. Still holding Michaela, Sean bent and deepened the kiss.

  They weren’t touching at all, except for their lips, but Sean felt her against him, inside him, covering him. For that moment, their souls were entwined.

  The innocent contact of their mouths was more intimate than anything he’d ever done, because it was not only physical contact, but emotional.

  Sophie stopped it. She pulled away and ducked her head. “I’d better shower,” she said, glancing around for the pink-and-white shopping bag. Spotting it, she grabbed it and practically ran from the room.

  Sean stood still, his hand absently rubbing Michaela’s back, and relived those last few seconds before Sophie made her escape.

  She’d felt it, too. He was certain. As little as he knew about her, as suspicious as he was of her motives, he knew one thing. She wanted him. She craved his touch as much as he craved hers.

  And just like him, she was fighting it with all her strength.

  BY THE TIME Sophie got out of the shower and dressed in the beautiful silk underwear and tasteful beige linen pants and sleeveless top Vicki had bought for her, Rosita was back and Sean was dressed and pacing.

  He looked up when she entered the living room, a spark of appreciation showing in his eyes. “Good. You’re ready.”

  “This is going to be a bad night, I can already tell,” Rosita was saying. “You have let Michaela sleep for hours. She will be awake all night.”

  “Let her sleep until we’re gone,” he said, pointing a finger to reinforce his point. “Then tell her Daddy will be back in the morning. She had a busy afternoon, jumping on Sophie.”

>   Rosita’s black eyes snapped to Sophie, and she nodded. “Bueno.”

  Before Sophie could wonder about that curt comment, Sean glanced at his watch and gestured for Sophie. “Come on. I need to get to Carlos’s. It’s been too long. I need to check in with my men, and make sure Carlos is okay.”

  “I could stay here with Rosita and Michaela—”

  “No,” he snapped. “I told you. You stay with me.”

  Sophie met Rosita’s gaze and saw a look on the woman’s face that appeared to be satisfaction. She raised her eyebrows at her.

  Sean shrugged into his suit jacket and held out his arm. Sophie let him guide her out the door and down the elevator to his car.

  He made record time getting to Carlos’s estate. At the gate, he questioned the guard and found out that nothing unusual had happened, but before they drove the few dozen feet to the house, his cell phone rang.

  “Patch them through, now!”

  It was the kidnappers! Sophie’s heart stuck in her throat. Sean yanked the keys out of the ignition and shot out of the car, sprinting across the driveway and into the house, leaving Sophie to catch up.

  By the time she got to Botero’s study, Sean was listening in on the phone call and directing Carlos in what to say.

  The old man looked frailer than the last time Sophie had seen him. The uncertainty over his daughter’s safety was taking its toll.

  “I need to know my daughter is safe,” he said, his voice thready with weakness and emotion.

  Sean’s eyes were like storm clouds as he listened to the answer. He shook his head at Botero.

  The older man nodded his understanding. He took a shaky breath. “No! I will not cooperate unless you can prove to me that my Sonya is alive.”

  Javier, Carlos’s nurse, had a hand on his wrist, taking his pulse and looking worried.

  Sophie clasped her hands, hardly breathing.

  “That is not good enough. You must let me hear my daughter or you can go to hell.” Carlos’s frail hand dropped the phone into its cradle.