Scared of losing more people she loved.
She could almost hear Ting cackling with laughter and mocking her for being a chicken. Kim shushed the Ting voice and asserted herself. “I am able to defend myself, Marc. I’m a trained police officer.”
“I realize that,” he acknowledged with a slight nod. “It doesn’t change a thing for me.”
“Well, you need to change the glare before we walk through the doors or people will wonder why I haven’t given you the boot.”
“Fair enough.” He turned toward her and his eyes heated over her with such desire she downright shivered.
Fake, she reminded herself. He was pretending. She had to keep herself grounded in the reality that this was an undercover op, but darn, it was tough.
She swallowed hard. “Good. That’s, uh, exactly right. Now we can walk inside.”
Two bellmen pushed the doors open, the swell of voices and a gong welcoming her. Head back with a gestalt she’d been taught from the cradle, she entered.
The environment of the casino enveloped her. The sounds—bells, whistles and chimes from the machines. People—laughing, groaning, cheering and calling bets. The bustle. Smells of the buffet across the way, while drinks closer by flowed freely. The place was more than a little hokey in its Great Wall theme, sometimes downright clichéd, but she had to confess, there were flashes and bits of the decor that made her nostalgic.
Who to trust? No one. She was royal today.
She clutched Marc’s arm and pressed deeper inside. The mayhem of the Great Wall Casino quieted in a rippling wave as everyone slowly caught on to look toward the entranceway.
One of the beadings on her new costume jabbed her armpit, but now wouldn’t be a particularly good time to reach inside and fix the annoying and increasingly painful problem. Tough it out and pray she didn’t bleed to death from a lethal silver stud.
The casino owner shoved through the crowd toward her, wringing his hands. “Your Highness, Your Highness, we’re honored to have you here this weekend at our humble establishment.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chiang, we are most pleased to be here and look forward to enjoying a much-needed vacation from royal responsibilities.” She turned to Marc. “Where would you like to start, sweetie?”
“Your assistant has the schedule. I’m just here to enjoy looking at you, Ting baby.” He flashed that killer smile again.
Baby? She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
Her assistant, Sun, an undercover cop who worked street patrol, scurried to the front with a PDA and stylus. “You have a photo op at the Fountain of Many Fortunes before you can change into more comfortable clothing.”
Comfortable clothes. Magic words. Kim squeezed Marc’s arm. “Then by all means, let us find that fountain.”
Holy guacamole Marc had muscles under that uniform jacket. How had she forgotten the sturdy feel of him? A memory of those arms banded around her waist as she arched up to kiss him flashed through her mind at this most inopportune time. Then it hit her. She had a real problem that could prove to be a serious distraction this weekend.
It was so not cool having a hot bodyguard in uniform whose body she happened to want out of that uniform.
THE LAST OF THE FLASHBULBS popped and snapped, leaving Marc seeing stars and blinking hard. He didn’t like the momentary blindness that left him vulnerable and unable to protect himself or Kim.
Not to mention the sparking-lights sensation it brought on that came mighty damn close to that of sitting in a cockpit, seeing tracers streak across the sky in front of his windscreen. He really hated how things snuck up on him that way—like Fourth of July fireworks. Big displays were okay, but the surprise firecrackers some neighbors set off…those left him flinching. The mind was a funky organ with a will of its own and a healing timetable Marc couldn’t seem to facilitate. Just grit his teeth and move forward.
Palm flat on Kim’s back, he led her through the throng, fountains gushing beside them in a multicolored display while a live band played in the background. Reporters swooped around them in a crush that made him nervous for security reasons.
A woman with a notepad pushed closer to Kim. “Are you and the pilot serious about each other?”
Kim smiled and snuggled closer. “What’s serious?”
A microphone was shoved under Marc’s nose from some man in a bad suit. “Will you be living in America or will he ask for a transfer overseas?”
He growled low. “Premature question.”
And older woman with a photographer at her side shouted, “Are there wedding bells in the future?”
The scar along his jaw itched. Wedding bells? Been there. Tried that. Lost the bride. “No comment.”
An Ichabod Crane look-alike asked, “Will this strengthen ties between our countries?”
Marc pushed forward, cutting a swathe through with his arm. “Definitely no comment. We’re on vacation.”
Kim held up a regal hand and smiled benevolently. “It is far too early in our relationship to speculate. We simply want to enjoy ourselves, watch some shows, perhaps gamble a little.”
“But wasn’t he rumored to be dating a royal in your country two years ago? Was that you or your cousin?”
“Me, of course.” She smiled possessively. “For a brief time. Now we’re getting reacquainted. So your princess and the soldier fairy tale—while quite romantic, I must admit—is a bit hasty. If you give us the privacy to explore possible feelings, then we will be able to give the four of you an exclusive all the sooner.”
Suggestive laugher rippled through, making Marc want to punch somebody’s lights out. How had she put up with this kind of mayhem growing up? No wonder she’d shed it all.
Kim squealed beside him, yanking him back to the present and reminding him that while romance might be their cover, it couldn’t play out for real. The distraction would prove too costly.
Someone’s—Kim’s—life.
He jerked, his every instinct going on high alert as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered in her ear.
She stayed stiff against him, her eyes wide and…indignant? “That man over there,” she said, pointing to her left, “he felt me up.”
What the…? Marc followed her pointing finger to the back of a male in a waiter’s uniform, pushing through the crowd so fast—disappearing. Not a chance they would find him, much less catch him, especially when they hadn’t even seen his face.
Marc shifted his attention back to Kim and getting her away from the reporters and the crowd. She molded herself to his side as he hustled her toward the elevator pronto. No more of this hanging around for photo ops or questions. She’d been shot at and someone had broken through the protective circle all in a few short hours.
Enough.
They needed to get upstairs to the penthouse and regroup.
Once the elevator doors swished shut, he allowed himself to breathe. “Are you all right?”
She sagged back against one of the mirrored walls, feeling along her side as elevator music did little to soothe the tense atmosphere. “There’s a hole in my clothes, right here along the seam.”
“What?” He started to probe and then realized—gulp—she had on an orange satin-and-lace bra that matched those panties he’d seen up close and personal in the limo earlier.
Adrenaline may have been shooting through his veins in that life-or-death moment, but he would have had to be dead not to notice that luscious display of curves in hot lingerie. And now, here they were again. Alone. No gunmen or ramming cars. He cleared his throat, though he couldn’t do much about his raging libido. She’d said something about a problem with a guy in the lobby. Marc forced his mind to focus on that, not the enticing curve of breast peeking through Kim’s torn clothing.
“That creep didn’t just feel me up. He tore off a piece of my clothing.” Her indignation crackled off her like the lights sparking off the beading on her native costume.
“Deep breaths.” And he kept his eyes locked on hers, yet somehow found those no less distracting than the curve of her breast. Damn. He was still a serious sap when it came to this woman. Right now, though, he needed to get her calmed down so they could both watch her back. Nothing came before her safety. “I know you’re upset and you have every right. But you’re okay.”
The doors shooshed open to the penthouse level. He momentarily went on high alert again, his hand covering his weapon at his waist under his jacket…. But the hall gaped empty.
“I may not like how uncomfortable the ceremonial outfit is and I may have complained and been a brat about wearing this. But, damn it, this is the ceremonial garb of my mother country and that jerk defiled it. I do not take that lightly.”
The regal tip of her chin caught him off guard. He was so used to seeing the woman who preferred jeans and ball caps. Even knowing she’d chosen her family ties over him, even seeing her date the man her grandmother had selected, still Marc saw her as his laid-back Kim.
But the woman who’d held on to her imperial roots two years ago still existed, and Marc had the distinct impression that the royal was every bit as bad-ass tough as the cop standing before him silently fuming.
CHAPTER FOUR
CLOTHING UNPACKED AND CHANGED, Kim stood in front of the dressing room mirror, at least semirelaxed from the shower.
Okay. Not at all relaxed. At least she’d washed the perspiration from the stress of the day from her body and had a chance to let-down and shake for a few minutes without worrying about appearing brave.
Now she combed her hair, appreciating her new clothes—a sheath dress with a high neck, emerald green. It had the look of her country, as well, but was more contemporary. So she still played her role, but with less itch.
Marc sprawled in a chair over by the window in their luxurious accommodations, hand-painted fans decorating the walls. He watched. He waited. Other than during her shower, he hadn’t let her out of his sight. He certainly made for an efficient bodyguard.
They had plenty of protection in their two-bedroom suite with the front sitting area full of the entourage of undercover cops. Still, Marc stayed. His eyes glued to her while he remained silent.
She shivered.
Maybe if they talked, or something, this would feel less intimate, the getting dressed together. “So tell me what you’ve been doing for the past two years.”
“I’m still in the air force, stationed at Charleston Air Force Base in South Carolina.”
Duh. “The uniform tipped me off.”
And wow, did he ever look hot in his formal uniform—a mess dress, he’d called it, dark blue and full of shiny medals attesting to his bravery.
His reflection blinked slowly as she brushed snarls out of her damp hair. “I could have gotten out of the air force but still be wearing the uniform, you know.”
“You’re too young to retire,” she said. He was thirty-two to her twenty-nine.
His gaze held hers for an unblinking minute. “There are medical retirements.”
Her own recent near miss with a gunshot wound ached. “You were injured?”
She spun around, comb in hand, and made a quick sweep of the medals on his jacket hanging on the back of a chair and, oh my, yes, she saw a Purple Heart. Her heart pounded heavy and fast against her ribs. She’d somehow overlooked the Purple Heart in the rows of ribbons on his other uniform he’d worn earlier. The less formal uniform had so many more of the small rectangular ribbons it was easy to have missed the one indicating he’d been injured in the line of duty.
Now she couldn’t miss the symbol of his wound, pain endured.
Having served with men on the police force, though, she knew more than a little about tiptoeing around the male ego, so she kept her voice low-key. “What happened to earn you that purple piece of bling there?”
He kept his casual sprawl in the wingback chair, backlit by the multicolored overload of lights of Las Vegas. As high up as they were, they didn’t have to worry about gunmen through the window, so they didn’t need to avoid the windows. She waited for his answer…suddenly realizing her palms hurt from the cut of her fingernails digging in from her tight fists.
She unfurled her fingers and rested them on his arm. “Marc?”
“Barracks bombing. I lived and walked away.” Muscles bunched and jumped under her touch, the only sign of his tension. “Others weren’t so lucky. We lost a crewmember. Another almost died in surgery.”
“You were injured, though.” Her hand rose of its own volition to stroke along his jaw, the ribbed tissue a new addition from when she’d known him before. “The scar here?”
He nodded.
She swallowed hard as she thought of what could have happened. “Much lower and it would have sliced your neck.”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
She understood that. She’d spent countless sleepless hours in her bed going over what-ifs of the shooting that had nicked her and cost her partner his life. “Were you hurt anywhere else?”
“You’re mighty curious.” He sat up straight for the first time, leaning forward. Closer. His freshly showered soapy scent caught her already raw senses unawares. “Are you one of those groupies?”
She stood her ground. “Did the war make you rude? You know me better than that.”
“Sorry.” He clapped a hand on his chest just shy of his heart. “I caught a shard of flying glass here, too.”
Her own heart skipped a beat…and another. “You really did almost die.” And she never would have known. Nobody would have told her. She had no contacts in his world. Their short romance had been during his leave time while he was deployed overseas.
Would she have felt the loss of his presence in the universe? Her grandmother had believed that the flow of ch’i connected spirit and consciousness on both the personal level and the global, and while Kim had turned her back on much of her old-world ways, in this…yes, she wanted to think she would have sensed it if a strong being like Marc had left this life.
She couldn’t stop herself. Maybe it was leftover adrenaline from nearly being shot earlier, or the emotional rush of hearing his starkly told story now, but she had to touch him. Just to feel the vital heat of him and ground them both in this world.
Kim flattened her palm to his chest, over his heartbeat that had come so close to being stilled forever. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
“Me, too.” His mouth tipped in one of those rare smiles of his, a real smile, not the fake kind that spread a bit broader.
She couldn’t stop the words from spilling from her mouth. “It’s still tough walking away when someone else didn’t.”
His fathomless brown eyes widened in surprise. “You know.”
“I do.” Her knees went wobbly and before she knew it, he’d caught her between his knees. Oh my. His hand palmed her back to steady her.
He cupped the back of her head and pulled her to his chest, his chin resting on her damp hair for a long, heated sigh as if he’d been waiting for this moment.
Slowly, her body came to life in his embrace. The hard cut of biceps encircled her. The broad stretch of bulging pecs pressed against her, reminding her she stood a full eight inches shorter than he did. Oh, the feel of standing between his legs…They hadn’t made love before, but they’d come close. So close, she’d regretted missing out on the experience more than once over the years.
Her toes curled in the carpet. She wasn’t the type for casual sex, but how she wanted him right now.
Adrenaline, she reminded herself. Life and death and a Purple Heart. She needed to get her head on straight again.
Kim backed away with more than a little regret, but enough wobbly resolve to put at least a couple of inches between her and the only man ever to live in her thoughts beyond the break-up. “My hair is going to leave a wet spot on your fancy shirt. We should both finish getting dressed for supper.”
“Of course, but I’ll be within shouting distance
if the least little thing seems off. Do you understand? Anything. Call me.” Standing, he kept the safe couple of inches between them, his hand still curved around the back of her neck, cradling the sensitive nape. “And, Kim?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.” He dipped his head and brushed his mouth over hers so gently, so quickly, she could have persuaded herself she imagined the whole kiss—if the touch hadn’t set her nerves tingling.
By the time she’d shaken off the tingles and come back to the present, she watched the door to his room click closed behind him. Now that he’d taken his tempting self elsewhere, only the lingering scent of his cologne left behind, her brain hitched on a mystery she should have discerned right away.
Bet Me Page 10
