by Debra Webb
“That’s it.” Emmett shook his head. “Isely must have learned that loose connection and now he believes the formula is in your possession.” Pacing now, he was clearly turning over the implications of this new information. He wasn’t willingly shutting her out this time, but it was just as effective. “No wonder he pushed the idea of getting info on the director’s family. That’s what Isely wanted from the beginning. How did I miss this?”
Before Cecelia could think what to say, he wheeled on her. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me this hours ago?”
“I knew you’d try to take me out of the equation.” She stood, planted her hands on her hips. “That’s all there is to discuss about that. Now, I’m going to take a shower,” she said, falling back on a tried and true approach. Men talked more when their hands were busy. She hoped he was serious about the risks of leaving her alone and would join her rather than leave her here. “Then we should get breakfast.”
Feeling his hot gaze following her, she unbuttoned his shirt as she walked toward the bathroom and let it fall at the doorway. She paused, giving him a tempting eyeful of her nude body before she stepped behind the door to start the shower.
She was under the hot spray, letting it beat at her scalp, convinced she’d made a tactical error, when the curtain went flying to the side. It required supreme effort to maintain her composure when faced with his sculpted body and obvious desire.
He was lean, but so well-defined an artist would never lack for inspiration. There was a balance to his form, an inherent strength that went far beyond the honed muscles.
She gave up the effort and licked her lips in anticipation. It saved her from smothering him with more flattery. Extending her hand, she would have testified sparks flew when he took it and joined her.
“Nice trick,” he said, crowding her under the spray.
“I have more.” She ran her hands up and over his chest.
“Prove it.”
She proceeded to do just that.
Chapter Seventeen
Holt’s legs were weak and he had the vague thought that he might embarrass himself and collapse in a satisfied heap right here in the dingy little bathtub.
She’d had tricks all right. Enough to surprise him, and he thought he’d seen it all. The woman was so much more than a first glance would suggest.
He had the absurd urge to ask if it had been like that with her husband. The question was taboo, and not at all the topic she wanted him to bring up, he felt certain.
Turning off the taps, he pushed the curtain aside and just enjoyed the view of her wrapped in a towel. This one was shorter than yesterday, and after what they’d shared, he figured ogling her was a compliment rather than overstepping.
“Like what you see?”
“You know I do.” More than he should. They had a few more hours today, then it was over. He’d go his way and she’d go hers. It was for the best, but it put a sick feeling in his gut.
He pulled a towel off the rack and rubbed it across his hair, working his way down his body, pleased to catch her watching him, too.
Reluctantly, he put them back on task. “Isely approached me eight months ago in Monaco.”
“Indebted gamblers make great marks.”
He nodded, securing the towel at his waist. “Especially those of us with security clearances.”
“No one on the outside knows about your team. How did Isely put it together?”
“I approached him. Or at least that’s the way he made it seem. After what you told me I’m not so sure. I was on a mission to prove my worth to the great Thomas Casey.”
Her pale eyebrows arched toward her hairline. “Well played either way. You wanted to get him and he needed something. Everyone lies and who wins?”
“Going on the offense is what I do. I lost brilliantly, on purpose, of course, then offered to sell him what I’d heard he was looking for.”
“The agent who’d killed his father.”
Holt nodded once more.
“He didn’t bother to dig into your claims?”
“Of course he did. And I made sure he found what he needed to find.”
“You lied.” Her radiant smile made him want to confess the sordid details.
He reached into his bag for his razor and stopped. “Will it bug you if I don’t shave?”
Her fingertips danced lightly along his jaw. “I like you a little scruffy.”
He dipped his head for a kiss, needing another dose of her sweet taste. This one didn’t burn as a prelude to seduction. No, it rocked him with something warmer, more real and far more dangerous to his sanity.
She dropped her towel across the edge of the tub and sauntered out to the bedroom to dress. He couldn’t follow her and indulge in another sexual romp. They had to finish this thing.
He told himself this wasn’t the woman to care about. She was so far out of his league, but damned if he didn’t want to go for it anyway.
He was only a few minutes behind her, but when he emerged from the bathroom, she’d dressed and had her bag packed and her tablet in her lap. Her efficiency was disappointing.
“You’re leaving the dress here?” It was still hanging in the closet.
“It’s a bit bulky.”
She was being practical. But he was going to miss it. “And it’s something for your brother to find.”
“He’s not supposed to be looking.”
“You can’t believe he’s just ignoring your disappearance.”
“A girl can hope.” She set the tablet aside. “Where is the meet?”
Holt tossed the towel to the side in favor of clothes more suitable for the day’s events. He felt her eyes on him as he tugged on jeans and drew a shirt over his head. It seemed in one area at least—passion—they were well matched.
“I’ll explain on the way.”
“Tell me there’s time to eat something.”
“Jittery?”
She smiled, slow and wicked. “No. Just famished from so much exertion.”
“There are a couple of meal bars in my bag.”
“There has to be another choice.”
He grinned when her stomach growled. “There’s a decent diner a few blocks away.”
“Great.” She popped to her feet. “We can plan how to take him down. I have some ideas churning.”
“Sure.” He felt her staring as he packed up his computer. When he looked up, he realized his plan to keep her out of harm’s way would never work. “Relax. I have some gear in the car. You can be my backup while Isely tries to sweat me for you.”
She pumped her fist and turned a quick circle. “Good answer.”
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, they’d demolished a hearty breakfast and finalized their plan. She’d used her tablet to review a few documents related to her husband’s estate, but so far hadn’t found anything about the formula Isely wanted.
That was good news from his perspective.
As he topped off her coffee, he realized he had to tell her the whole truth. Only an idiot would keep playing the role that would never come true. Call him an idiot.
He scrubbed at his face and tried to smile when she shot him a concerned look.
“You okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” Maybe the better play was to see how far they could get, to wait until he knew she loved him. Then maybe she’d be too attached to dump him and hold him accountable for all the lies.
Strange as it was, he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. Staying with her would only make the pain worse when she left him a week, a month or a decade from now.
And she would leave. Women like her didn’t stay with men like him.
It boiled down to one critical question. Did he love her enough not to hurt her? The
answer was obvious.
“Are you always nervous before a meet?”
“Nerves keep you on your toes,” he said. “But this meet is the most important of my life.”
“It will work out, Emmett.”
“You’ve contacted your brother?”
“And his wife, just in case Thomas blows off my message.”
“After this, he’ll see what I’ve known all along. You and ops are a perfect fit.” He laced his hand with hers. “He’ll try to recruit you away.”
“Not a chance.”
If she went into ops, they’d never work together. He pulled himself away from that slippery slope. First he had to survive today, and then he had to convince her he could leave his past behind.
The past. He didn’t want her to hear it from a third party and Isely would know she was close, would try to use it against him. She deserved better than that.
“About that New York job.” The words stuck in his throat.
“The one that caught Thomas’s attention?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed, searching for the right words. He couldn’t believe how much he wanted her to understand.
“Emmett, you don’t have to tell me. I don’t want you breaching security after everything else you’ve managed to protect during this sting operation.”
“The things I’ve leaked, even to protect myself, are punishable offenses. But the one I regret, the one I should have found a way to tweak, is revealing the director’s family. Revealing your existence to a monster.”
“Thomas won’t punish the hero who single-handedly stopped his nemesis and protected the secret of Mission Recovery. Besides, I think we both know now that getting to me was Isely’s intent all along.”
Hero? She was making this so tough. He knew Thomas wouldn’t see him as a hero, even if things worked out the way she hoped. When she learned the truth, he’d be lucky if she could look at him at all. “Cecelia, just listen a minute. Isely knows things about my past. I’d rather you heard them from me first.”
Even if she hated him for seducing her, for having the audacity to think he loved her, he knew she wouldn’t abandon Thomas’s cause. Whatever Isely said or did at this meet, she was strong enough to take over and finish what he’d started.
“When your brother found me, I was about to do a second stretch in prison for theft.”
She didn’t flinch at the news. Her calm blue gaze held his with a depth of compassion he didn’t expect or deserve.
“Someone already told you. Who?”
“You.” She covered his hands with hers. “Just now.”
That was impossible. Maybe it was shock. “Did you hear me? Did you understand what I meant?” He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’ve served time for theft. I’m a thief and a liar. Take away the cool job and fancy office and I still am.”
“Only because the mission required it. And even now you’re still trying to prove yourself to my brother when you wouldn’t be in the position you’re in if he hadn’t been convinced from the beginning.”
“Cecelia, be reasonable here.”
She reached up and those soft, pampered fingers caressed his cheek. “What were you expecting? I haven’t had a temper tantrum since I was thirteen.”
“Then have at it. You’re long overdue.” He stared out the window, not wanting to see the disappointment on her face when she accepted the truth.
“No, thanks.”
“I’m sorry for—”
“For what?”
Her voice had a definite edge now. He met her gaze, leaned back a bit from the intensity.
“Don’t you dare apologize for the past two days or the actions that brought us together.”
“But—”
“I thought you were the one person who understood I don’t scare easy. Was that a lie?”
“No, that was true.”
“Well, here’s some more truth for you. I’m a big girl and I know everyone comes with baggage. I don’t care who you were or what you did. I love the man you turned yourself into.”
She loved him? Had to be a figure of speech, although he supposed she would know more about it, having sustained a marriage from “I do” all the way to her husband’s untimely death.
Maybe he wasn’t just the short-term guy filling the holiday void for a society matron eager to explore a latent bad-boy fixation. He’d never been more frightened of what that might mean.
“I know we have to go our separate ways when this is over, but I wanted you to know where I came from.”
“Please.” She gave a little snort. “You wanted me to run away.”
“No.” Maybe a little.
“You’re stuck with me, Emmett Holt, and I think you’re warming up to the idea.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“As a heart attack.” Under the table, she rubbed her calf against his. “I wasn’t raised to view people as disposable.”
“Ops training will cure you of that,” he said, checking his watch. He needed to get into position so Isely wouldn’t have reason to suspect anything had changed.
“I doubt that.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’ve learned a few things by watching you.” She ticked the list of names on her fingers, “Casey, Thomas and William. Integrity and honor are honed—not dulled—by doing what’s right and making the hard choices that protect others.”
Holt wanted to believe her. With everything inside him, he wanted to believe in a pretty future where all the things she implied were possible. “You and I are worlds apart, Cecelia.”
“But we don’t have to be,” she said softly.
“We should go.” He tossed a few bills on the table to cover the check, then started scooting out of the booth. “Remember to chatter nonsense. It’ll annoy whoever’s listening on Isely’s end, make them think you’re flighty.”
“One thing first.”
He froze, hoping she’d give him another “I love you,” another chance to say the words back.
“I have a secret, too.”
Whatever it was couldn’t be as bad as his. She was just trying to make him feel better, but he listened anyway. “Go on.”
“I didn’t cry when William died.”
He didn’t see the relevance, but he saw her lower lip tremble and knew there was more.
“I’ve never told anyone.” Her breath stuttered, then she gathered herself. “It happened about two months before he died. His last good day.”
“That’s when you cried.”
Her chin jerked twice. “No more tears after that day. And I vowed never to care that much for another man again.”
Talk about brutal honesty. He didn’t know what to say, couldn’t have said anything anyway. The vicious ache in his chest made it impossible. Now he knew why he lied, why he pushed people—women—away. Because love hurt.
And he was looking at a woman who’d loved and lost in a tragic fashion. She’d accepted his secret, he’d accept hers. “Understandable,” he managed after a moment.
“Is it?”
“Yeah.”
“I used to think so.”
He wanted to pounce on that ray of hope, but they were out of time. “Come on. We have to go.”
They walked to the car in silence, but as he reached to open her door, he changed his mind. He couldn’t give her the words, but he could damn well show her how he felt, whether she could reciprocate or not. Maybe his emotion could help her rediscover her own.
He grabbed her close and kissed her, pouring out all the feelings he’d imprisoned inside.
Chapter Eighteen
The National Mall, Washington, D.C.
10:45 a.m.
Cecelia couldn’t believe
she’d told him her darkest secret. She was still reeling from the fierce kiss he’d planted on her in reply. It took everything she had to think up some inane chatter to irritate Isely’s crew.
Emmett had located her at the perfect vantage point for watching the meet through binoculars. She wasn’t happy about it, but she was here, overlooking his position at a small café. He’d told her it was to watch his back, but she knew it was another of those moves to protect her.
“Are you done with your shopping?” she asked, feigning excitement for the benefit of those listening in on their communications link.
“Never started.”
“Did you make a list for Santa?” she teased, trying to pull him out of the shell he’d withdrawn into since the diner.
“No point. I’m always on the naughty list,” he said.
Even through the earpiece, she caught the sensual undertone in that comment. After last night, she should expect her share of coal in the stocking, too. Thank goodness he couldn’t see her blushing at the memory of how good they’d been. Together.
“Then what are your plans for Christmas?” She couldn’t quite believe she was going to ask him to join her in the Caribbean. This probably wasn’t an appropriate discussion under the circumstances, but she wasn’t sure she’d get another chance to tell him what he meant to her.
“I don’t make holiday plans.”
“No family to visit?” She watched the slow shake of his head through the binoculars. “Not everyone is like you and yours.”
“So that part of your profile was real?”
“Yes.”
Hearing the edge in his voice, she knew his patience with the topic was about to snap.
“You should join me. I have a ticket—”
“This conversation could be monitored,” he grumbled from behind his coffee cup.
“Yes, sir.” Where was Isely? Had he gotten close enough to see that she wasn’t with Emmett and walked away? Part of her couldn’t help but hope...but then they might never get him and be able to clear Emmett’s name.
“Why won’t you be with family?” he asked, drawing her attention back to where it was supposed to be.
