WOULD-BE CHRISTMAS WEDDING

by Debra Webb

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “She promised not to show them the picture.”

  “The picture?” He set his fork down carefully and blotted his mouth. “From last night?”

  She nodded.

  “Dancing at the marina?”

  “That’s the one.”

  She’d tried leaving out last night’s more personal details until Casey had admitted getting a call from Heather. Even then, Cecelia tried to pin the girl’s claims on a drunken stupor, but Casey had pulled out her phone and shown her the picture of the kiss.

  Cecelia had nearly asked for a copy, but made the better choice and asked if her brother had seen it. Casey’s denial had been sincere and full of concern, and nothing Cecelia said eased that worried look in her daughter’s eyes.

  Her throat went dry now just thinking about the picture, remembering how alive—how absolutely exhilarated—she’d felt in that moment when he’d kissed her in the middle of a party they hadn’t been invited to.

  “Nice effort, but it won’t help.” His eyes darted to the table in question. “They all know me.”

  “Know whatever you’ve led them to believe, anyway.” She winked when he glared at her. “Let Casey handle them.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Lighten up. The salad isn’t so bad.” She took a bite and encouraged him to do the same. “It’s the chicken you’re likely to choke on.”

  “You’re making chicken jokes. Why not just tell me about what happened while I was gone? Obviously something did.”

  “Nothing too dreadful.”

  “What exactly falls into that category?”

  “We can discuss it later. I got the impression we’d have some time, just the two of us, this evening.”

  His silence was enough confirmation. Not that she needed it. When Isely’s men grabbed her, she trusted him not to leave her with them for long. The idea had her shuddering inside. Having that monster touch her was enough to have her choking without a single bite of the chicken.

  A waiter passed with a tray of champagne flutes, but Cecelia declined. Going tipsy on champagne wouldn’t help her get through what she knew was coming.

  She’d ignored the speculative looks Thomas aimed her way through the speeches and awards. Had even tried provoking him a bit by holding Emmett’s hand in full view once she’d delivered her gratitude to everyone who’d supported the cause. Yes, she was moving on, personally and professionally, and it was time for the world to adjust.

  William was no doubt giving her a standing ovation from the place good men like him went.

  For the first time since she’d said a final goodbye to her husband, she truly felt as if she was where she was meant to be.

  No one, not that evil man Isely or anyone else, was going to take this from her.

  When the orchestra started up, Thomas wasted no time in claiming her for the first dance. She nearly laughed at the complete lack of subtlety when Casey and Levi and Lucas and Victoria flanked them on the dance floor.

  “I told you to stay away from him,” Thomas said through a tight smile.

  “In case you missed it, I’m a grown woman. I’ve had a husband and daughter and a whole life, Thomas.”

  “This is different. He’s dangerous.”

  “I think I like that about him,” she replied with shocking honesty. It was the rough edges under Emmett’s polish that made him so appealing. She’d been raised to expect certain manners and behaviors from the men in her social sphere. While he could fit in anywhere the job demanded, she liked the man he was when they were alone best of all.

  “That isn’t funny, Lia. I’ve traced the leaks to his computer. He’s a traitor.”

  “Of course he is.” She laughed lightly just to keep up appearances. “I don’t believe that. I know you have your pick of talented agents and would never snap up a dud.”

  “He sold secrets to a black-market weapons dealer.”

  She shook her head. “Take another look. He’s only been a picture-perfect gentleman around me.” She was ready for Thomas to call her on the lie, or the reference, but he was lost in his own gloomy thoughts.

  “He wasn’t an agent when I recruited him. Clearly I misjudged his abilities.”

  “Not from my perspective.” She pinched his shoulder when he ignored her. “Listen to me. We were in real danger last night and he protected me. You should trust your first instincts where he is concerned.”

  “Where’s your wedding band?”

  She sighed. He wouldn’t hear reason from her. Not on this. If he needed a gift for Jo or ideas for a brunch menu, she’d be his first call, but she’d never have his ear when it came to agents, business or covert operations.

  “It’s in the safe at the house,” she replied. “Where it has been since Casey’s wedding.” She was more pleased than she should have been by the shock on his face. “Where’s your wife?”

  “Working.”

  “Is that a politically correct way of saying she’s in protective custody?”

  “I should be so lucky.”

  Cecelia smiled. “So she refused, too?”

  “She pointed out there wasn’t an active threat on her.”

  Cecelia’s mind leaped to the logical conclusion. “You have her looking for the mole.” She hoped Jo would be objective enough to see what Emmett was really up to.

  “Fresh eyes never hurt anything.”

  “True.” Cecelia looked up into her big brother’s face, studied every line he’d earned from the burdens and victories of his job. Why couldn’t he see she wanted the same sense of accomplishment and purpose for her own life?

  A not-so-small part of her wanted to tell him everything. To pull him aside and explain that she and Emmett had this whole threat under control. Or as much control as possible when the enemy was a madman bent on revenge.

  “Thank you for being here,” she said, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “I love you both. Tell Jo I said hello.” She gave his hand a squeeze as the song ended. “That’s my cue to mingle.”

  She stepped away before she did anything that could dilute the effect of tonight’s looming drama. Whatever Isely had planned, she knew Emmett wouldn’t let anything terrible happen to her or the people they both loved.

  She grinned, thinking how adamantly he’d deny it if he’d heard her make such a statement. But she knew it was true. A man didn’t do the things Emmett had done without love. For country, team or Thomas, there would be the logical, analytical reasons on the surface. But courage and conviction came from a noble place in the heart, and it took both to complete the lonely mission he’d taken on.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Emmett found her a few moments later and drew her out onto the floor for a waltz.

  “A lie by omission is still a lie,” she said.

  His eyes were clouded as he met her gaze. “Whatever your brother said, you’re stuck with me until this is over.”

  She was happy to hear it. “Not him. You. There was no mention of dancing on your profile, and yet you’re quite talented.”

  “You’re determined to be cheerful tonight.” He flexed his fingers on her back and her body warmed to his touch. “You know I lie to everyone. That profile was geared to attract you.”

  “It worked.” Too well, in fact. She was keeping it light, the epitome of a society matron reigning over a successful event, but she wanted some sign that what she was feeling for him wasn’t one-sided. “Though a mention of dancing wouldn’t have hurt.”

  She thought about the forest of untruths that made up the landscape Emmett, her daughter and brother worked in. William had surely lied to her a thousand times by necessity through the course of their marriage. The mission-related untruths and alibis had never been an issue before, and she could only ration
alize that it was now because she barely knew Emmett.

  Except she felt like she knew him better than he knew himself.

  They moved across the dance floor with the rest of the crowd, waltzing and smiling in a swirl of color and light.

  Since discreet inquiries hadn’t worked on him, she went for a direct approach. “So tell me what’s true.”

  “This.” He held her a bit too close through a turn and her breath caught with anticipation as her body met his from breast to thigh.

  She gave him the smile the world would expect her to show and saw that he recognized the ploy.

  “Now who’s lying?”

  “Part of the job, right?” She let the music carry her, embolden her. “What do you want most from me?”

  He hesitated, but she gripped his shoulder and gave him a look warning him to shoot straight with her on this.

  “More than you want to give, I’m sure.”

  The words, the husky voice gave her hope. She cocked an eyebrow. “Mission parameters first, please.”

  “First?”

  She didn’t dignify that with an explanation, simply waited for him to make his decision.

  “Nothing has changed. Isely intends to kidnap you as leverage against your brother.”

  “And you’re the kidnapper?”

  “Would you prefer someone else? I can introduce you to the man in the corner who infiltrated hotel security for tonight.”

  When he turned her on the floor as gracefully as any contestant on that dancing reality show, she spotted the hulking brute he meant. He probably expected her to collapse in some fluttery, feminine panic. She didn’t, though she wouldn’t want to run up against that man in a dark alley, or anywhere else for that matter.

  Emmett Holt was her only protection.

  “How do you know?”

  “I got him in.”

  She gasped and he drew her tight against him again as they swirled through another turn.

  “You wanted the truth,” he said.

  She nodded. “If my kidnapping’s on the schedule—” she met his gaze “—I’d rather go with you.”

  “Good choice.”

  She wasn’t so sure. After kissing him last night for the sole purpose of surviving, she was all too aware that this man presented more than a few other dangers. Many of them far beyond physical.

  Yes, she wanted to dance with him all night, to soak up the sensual delight she found in his embrace. It had been so long since anyone had held her like she mattered purely as a woman, since she’d been able to hold someone the same way.

  William had traveled often for work, but those absences had given her just the briefest taste of loneliness. There’d been time for girlfriends, movie marathons or quiet nights with a good book and a bottle of wine.

  She’d quickly learned none of those nights with friends, movies or books replaced the very real need for affectionate contact. For kisses, for...

  “You’re not listening.”

  She blinked several times, bringing his face into focus. “My apologies.”

  “First lesson for ops is to maintain your focus.”

  “Duly noted, thank you.” She found it odd he was the only person of her acquaintance showing any acceptance of her career change. “I appreciate your support of my career plans,” she said. “I know it’s not your priority here.”

  The last strains of the music drifted away and they came to a stop with it, but he didn’t quite release her. “Your life is my highest priority.”

  She felt something in her heart click as she looked into his eyes. The man just twisted her up inside. He’d lied, by all accounts was more than ready to use her without any remorse, but she couldn’t seem to hold it against him. Knew she would never hold it against him.

  People she’d known for far longer, her friends and family, said stay away, but she just couldn’t. Especially not if a successful mission meant she had to spend time with that brute glowering at her from the corner.

  “He just gave me the sign to move.”

  She hadn’t seen a sign, but she was trying not to look that direction.

  “Are you ready?” Emmett whispered.

  She nodded, her throat too dry for words.

  “Follow my lead.”

  Anywhere. She trusted him that much. He’d worked with her brother. He possessed more skills that she might ever learn.

  He tucked her hand inside his elbow and steered her toward the head table. “Is there anyone else you need to speak with before we go?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. I’m trying to make this as stress-free as possible for you.”

  “In that case, I should greet Lucas Camp and—”

  “No.” His muscles tensed—a physical emphasis of the quiet, stern refusal. “Anyone but him.”

  She gave a slight shake of her head. “Someone else will announce the silent auction winners when they can’t find me.”

  “You have the gun with you as well as your phone?”

  “GPS on as instructed.”

  “Good. We’re done here.”

  She glanced up, saw his smile, but the warmth in it was suspect. Every move he made was calculated for their audience. She wondered if he realized they had that in common tonight.

  She retrieved her purse and followed his lead as they aimed for an open bar station and the conversation area beyond.

  They stepped out to the balcony area, where cocktails had been served. Trees planted in the lobby garden sparkled with holiday lights, branches reached toward the skylight above. The glass elevator serving the first five floors was wrapped with a bow like a present as it zipped up and down.

  When they’d booked the Plaza for the gala, she’d seen the beauty and gracefulness of the design. She’d envisioned the perfect layout and the space full of guests eager to open their wallets for the chance to honor William’s memory.

  Tonight she saw shadows and threats where she should have only seen friends and donors.

  “You need to brace yourself, Cecelia.”

  “You mean we can’t just waltz all the way up to the suite and hide out with the convenience of room service?”

  “Nope.”

  Those few minutes on the dance floor, wrapped in his embrace as the orchestra played, were so different from the heat and flash of last night’s salsa. But the lingering result had been just as magical. Just as enticing.

  “We can’t show off more of our talent on the dance floor before disappearing?” she teased, mostly to quiet her nerves.

  “It would make more of a scene,” he agreed.

  She grinned, just imagining the reaction. The poor, lonely Mrs. Manning never did anything as spontaneous as dance without the guide of music. What had happened to her, they would all wonder. They’d whisper behind their hands that she’d had some sort of breakdown. After last night’s public display of heat—if not exactly affection with a virtual stranger—a similar uncharacteristic demonstration tonight might be enough to snap her perfectly respectable reputation in two.

  She kind of liked the idea of being a wicked widow.

  But that wasn’t to be. She would simply vanish from the festivities, and those in attendance would speculate. She knew enough to understand how a report of her disappearance might go. Though for obvious reasons she didn’t expect Thomas to report her missing. He had his own way of handling the situation. If there was trouble, any witnesses might call for security or the authorities. All the more reason they had to be discreet.

  She could do this. For Thomas and Casey. For Emmett.

  The men she assumed were Isely’s crew had taken up stations on either end of their section of the balcony. She leaned closer to Emmett. No one but him would get a chance to do the kidnapping tonight.
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br />   She dug in her heels and drew them to a stop near the corner. Not at all out of sight of the crowd in the ballroom, but not as front and center as they’d been at last night’s party. “Kiss me.”

  “Later. If you ask nicely,” he said, his eyes locked on her lips.

  She tugged his lapels. “Three o’clock and nine o’clock. You know they’re there.” This wasn’t the time for nice. “Now kiss me.”

  Pressing her lips to his, she prayed he understood what she was after. She needed to leave no doubt that she was involved, willingly, with this man. Maybe he didn’t care about his reputation, but she did.

  He understood how to kiss; no room for doubt on that score. What she’d meant to be for show, to give the gossips something to chew on, turned into a banquet of sensations. Pinned between the wall and his equally unyielding body, she thrilled at the fascinating rush sizzling through her veins.

  His wide palm cupped her cheek as he drew back a fraction of an inch. His breath was warm against her lips. She turned her face, pressing a kiss into his palm as she gauged the progress Isely’s men had made.

  “Once you’re trained and in the field, no one will know you well enough to judge you,” he murmured in her ear as he guided her past the elevator, around the balcony, toward the top of the wide staircase.

  She wanted to ask how he’d guessed her earlier thoughts, but conversation, like kisses, would have to wait for later.

  A door marked as a fire exit opened and the burly man from the ballroom waved them closer. Emmett deftly stepped around her, putting himself between her and Isely’s man.

  “This way,” the man said, stepping into Emmett’s path.

  Emmett plowed a fist deep into the man’s belly and pushed him back into the stairwell, yanking the door shut.

  On the other side of the balcony, Cecelia’s brother paused at the ballroom doors, his head swiveling from side to side. He was already searching for her.

  She’d be hard to miss in this bold red gown. Next time she had kidnapping on the agenda, she’d wear something less flashy.

  They reached the stairs and rushed down, and the fresh scent of the seasonal evergreens draped along the rails tickled her nose. The soft needles brushed her hand and caught at her wide skirt, but she kept moving forward. Oh, yes. Next time, a discreet gown and ballet flats. At this pace she’d be lucky if she didn’t break an ankle and completely derail their plan.