by Rachel Grant
“I know how men are—he’d probably give you a raise.”
“The only person giving me a raise, Shortcake, is you.” He left the room, closing the door behind him.
She collapsed on the bed and picked up his T-shirt, the one she’d slept in. She lifted it to her nose, but it smelled of her, not him. After pulling off her clothing and donning the T-shirt, she slipped back under the covers and mentally listed her troubles. Jake was back. Her job was in jeopardy. And she had the hots for her intern.
Wanting Lee was the least of her problems, but with his current proximity, the sexual hunger between them loomed large and dangerous.
Was four years that big an age difference? Probably. She was a few years away from her biological clock going off, and he was barely old enough to rent a car.
LEE NEEDED A COLD SHOWER after leaving Erica’s room. He’d used the attraction between Erica and him as a tool to deliberately rattle and confuse her, and his conscience needled him. His words and actions were accurate—hell, yes, he wanted her—but he’d behaved like a rutting fool to downplay the significance of JT being here.
She couldn’t examine his relationship with JT. A simple Google search would turn up the facts of Joe’s life, including the long-ago marriage, and his mother’s Facebook page, which contained pictures of all of them.
He’d begged his mother to remove the photos, but with Joe’s impending campaign, she was angling for her fifteen minutes. He’d crashed her page and put off her pleas for her techno-wizard son to fix it, and the woman had stunned him by hiring someone to restore her page within a few days.
He returned to the kitchen to face another blatant lie. JT sat at the table in front of his open laptop. Lee had known JT hadn’t left. He’d lied because Erica would’ve insisted on talking to him, and he and JT needed more time to figure out how to handle her presence in his apartment. “She’s going back to sleep.”
He searched through the playlist on his iPod and found a Beethoven symphony. He aimed the speakers toward the entry, then spoke softly, under the music. “I think her apartment was destroyed because of me. I may have tripped a trap in the network.”
JT just looked at him.
“Damn it, JT, that first day, I used her ID. Someone noticed.”
“You’re too good to be caught.”
“I’d like to think so, but I’ve never seen a network this tight. If everyone had systems that secure, I’d have no clients.”
“So you think you screwed up and put Erica in the crosshairs?”
“It’s possible.”
“I don’t think so. I think she’s part of it. And you do too.”
He closed his eyes and could see Erica struggling with her desires and her fears. He knew how important his job was. He understood what was at stake.
“You told me days ago she’s afraid and is hiding something. And we know she’s lied to you and Rob Anderson. Lee, I’m sure she’s a superb piece of ass, but don’t let that fuck with your brain. I need you to focus.”
“I am focused.”
“I don’t think it’s on the job I’ve asked you to do.”
He took a deep breath. This was JT he was talking to. His brother in all but blood. “I am focused,” he said again. “I’m not blinded by Erica’s ass or any other part of her anatomy. I spent time with her last night to learn more about her. I know this: she doesn’t live like someone who’s got another source of income.”
He rubbed his eyes. He felt like hell. Four hours sleep. Sexual frustration. And his closest friend in the world wanted to pin treasonous smuggling on a woman he’d begun to feel protective of—when the hell had that happened?—and the theory had merit.
He left the room without a word and retrieved his own laptop, then set it on the kitchen table across from JT’s. “I think I know what—or rather who—we’re looking for.” He’d been itching to Google Jake Novak since he’d heard Drake say the name. Google had an answer for him in .26 seconds. Third on the results list was the website for Novak Underwater Salvage and Treasure.
He followed the link. The homepage featured a photo of Jake Novak on the deck of his boat, the Andvari.
“JT, meet Jake Novak. He’s teaming with Ed Drake on a proposal, and Erica is terrified of him.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ERICA STOOD IN THE HALLWAY, just around the corner from the kitchen, gathering her courage. After sleeping a few hours, she’d sat in her room for a long time, dreading facing JT. She glanced down at her clothing. It was skimpy, but at least she wasn’t braless and wearing a sheer T-shirt. She should have throttled Lee for not warning her that JT could show up.
Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she entered the kitchen. JT sat at the table, sipping coffee while marking papers with a red pen. “JT, thank you for letting me stay here last night.” She’d considered calling him “Mr. Talon,” but since he’d hit on her and inadvertently seen her nearly naked, she decided they should be on a first-name basis.
“I’m glad Lee brought you here after what happened.”
She let out a breath, willing the knots of tension to go away, and cast about the room, seeking something to do, to say, and spied the coffeemaker. JT noticed. He stood, fetched a mug from the cupboard, and poured a cup. “Cream or sugar?” he asked.
“Cream, please,” she said with a genuine smile. The CEO had just gotten her coffee. She thanked him and sat at the table, wrapping her hands around the warm mug, feeling the raw edges of her nerves begin to smooth. So far, so good. She breathed in the calming aroma. If only she could forget their earlier encounter.
“I’m sorry about your apartment,” he said.
“Thanks.” She bit her lip. She’d crossed her first hurdle and faced JT, but her apartment would require a pole vault. With a twenty-dollar air mattress and a thrift-store plastic garden chair, she supposed she could live there, but she’d have to stare at walls that called her a bitch and a whore in bloodred paint. It wasn’t all that different from her cell in Mexico, where shimmering flies fed on fecal curse words. Her apartment now had the stink of the cell, but she had nowhere else to go. Maybe she should just disappear, start someplace fresh. Would anyone even notice?
No. She would not wallow in self-pity. That was the road her mother had traveled.
She’d come here to make amends and restore her reputation. She couldn’t give up. Hell, right now she was sitting with JT Talon, drinking coffee. She might not like how she ended up here, but she could use this turn of events. She just needed a plan.
She felt his stare and realized she’d been sitting in self-absorbed silence for too long. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.”
“No need to apologize.” He cocked his head to the side. “In fact, I should be apologizing to you. The other night—”
She cut him off with her hand. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I shouldn’t have come on to you. I put you in an awkward position, and for that I’m sorry.” He brushed his thick dark curls out of his eyes in a gesture that seemed almost nervous, and she marveled at the idea that she worried him. Of course, he feared a lawsuit, but still, it felt strange to have even that small bit of power.
He hadn’t shaved, and the dark stubble on his jaw combined with a scar that bisected one eyebrow gave him a sexy, dangerous look. He exuded masculinity, power, and confidence.
“Thank you,” she said. “Apology accepted.”
He smiled and leaned back in his chair, and she wondered if he’d later place a check mark on a to-do list. He looked like a to-do list sort of man.
“You’ve been in the Bethesda office a lot lately,” she said, hoping to put the awkward moment behind them.
“Bethesda has several military contracts I need to oversee.”
“Because Drake’s more interested in the campaign than managing the projects himself.” She felt her face turn red and couldn’t believe she’d actually said that aloud. She was just a step above intern, after all. Sh
e didn’t have enough fingers to count the layers of management that separated her from the man she’d just dissed.
But JT laughed. “Exactly. I didn’t realize he was so obvious.”
Her cheeks began to cool. “There’ve been rumors he’s angling to be vice president.”
“Campaigns are…big.” His expression said he knew the word was grossly inadequate. “And this is the biggest prize of all. We’re all obsessed with the senator’s campaign these days.”
Joseph Talon had been in office for twelve years, and his own son had just referred to him not as “Dad” but as “the senator.” Had politics consumed Joseph Talon’s identity, even to the people who mattered most in his life?
“How is Lee doing? Is he working hard?”
If she’d been asked that question yesterday morning, she’d have said he was a waste of time and money. But now she felt differently. It wasn’t because he’d rocked her world with one knee-weakening kiss, but because he’d been there for her when her life was ripped apart as easily as her mattress.
“He’s helping me with Thermo-Con and has provided an interesting lead.” She saw her escape and glanced at her watch, not faking her dismay when she saw it was noon. “Speaking of which, I should head to the office.”
“It’s Saturday,” he reminded her.
She inclined her head toward the papers spread across the table. “You’re working.”
“I’m always working. It’s the nature of my job. But your apartment was vandalized. You have other priorities.”
She shrugged as coolly as she could manage. She couldn’t let him know how afraid she was. He needed to believe it was a random act of violence. “My apartment is a total loss,” she said, a break in her voice telling them both she wasn’t as cool as she wanted to be. “I can’t face it yet, but I have a report due on Monday, so I need to go to the office.”
She felt Lee’s presence as a tingle in the back of her neck even before he entered the room and wondered when exactly she’d developed a Lee radar, or Lee-dar, as her grad school friends would have called it.
“I thought you were planning to work from home this weekend,” Lee said.
“I was, until my computer was dropped in a bathtub full of water.”
“You can work from here,” Lee said.
Feeling uncomfortable that Lee had just offered up JT’s apartment, she looked to the CEO.
He nodded. “You can stay here as long as you need.”
She looked again at Lee, who relaxed against the counter, still wearing only sweatpants. He turned and reached into the cupboard for a coffee mug, and the fabric stretched across his perfect butt. He poured himself a cup of coffee, then turned back so she could appreciate his sculpted abs. Like JT, Lee hadn’t shaved, and his jaw was covered in attractive stubble. She wondered if he’d entered the room half-dressed in an attempt to out-masculine JT. Frankly, it worked.
Lee had a spectacular physique. She’d always known lust made her stupid, and she could feel IQ points slipping away just looking at him. Could she stay here without sleeping with Lee? While JT was here, certainly. But what about after JT returned to New York and they were alone?
The truth was, she had nowhere else to go. She had no one.
This half-dressed man she’d met six days ago was the closest thing to a friend she had in DC.
She straightened her spine. She’d survive. That was the one thing she knew how to do. She also knew when to accept help. “Thanks, I’d like to stay.”
“Good,” JT said. “There’s a desktop computer in the den you can use.”
“I’ve got to go back to my apartment to get the Thermo-Con file. Hopefully it wasn’t destroyed. I didn’t think to check last night.”
“I forgot to take it out of the laptop case,” Lee said. “I’ve got the file here.”
At least one thing had gone right in the last twenty-four hours. “I should get to work, then.” She stood up.
“No,” Lee and JT said simultaneously.
“You need to eat first,” JT said.
Lee pulled a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. “I make a killer spinach omelet.”
She felt her throat close up. These men acted as though they cared.
LEE LISTENED FOR THE SOUND of the shower then reentered the kitchen. “She can’t hear us.”
“What did you find out?” JT asked.
“Novak is primarily a treasure hunter, although he does do some salvage work. He usually operates out of California. He has a permanent help-wanted ad on his website. He wants to hire an underwater archaeologist so he can get excavation permits from foreign governments for shipwreck excavations.”
“So?” JT asked, leaning back in his chair.
“I called the archaeologist from the university—the one I spoke to last weekend to prepare for the job. He said it’s career suicide for an underwater archaeologist to work for a treasure hunter. It’s not illegal, mind you, but it’s the sort of thing that would get a person quietly blackballed. As in nothing would be in writing, but word would spread.
“The university archaeologist said Novak’s excavations are anything but archaeological—he takes the goods and destroys the resource. Novak has never published a report and provides no data on his finds. These are the cardinal sins of archaeology.”
“And you think she worked for him.”
“Yes. It all makes sense. I couldn’t find anything official. I’d wondered why she had perfect grades, then withdrew from the University of Hawaii.” It had been a big red flag when he realized she was enrolling in another Master’s program. Why drop one grad program after the coursework was complete, then start another? She owed thousands in student loans for the UH classes.
He continued. “I bet she was told her transcript would remain clean if she left quietly. As far as work goes, no one gave her a recommendation at all—good or bad. But that’s standard practice these days, due to companies’ fear of being sued. I think she moved here because her reputation in the West was shot.”
“Why would she work for a man like Novak in the first place?”
Lee pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’ve already told you about her credit problems. She’s broke. My guess is Novak promised her the moon.”
“What did she do with the money?” JT asked.
“I don’t know. I think something bad happened between them.”
“Did he trash her apartment?”
“I think she thinks it was him,” Lee said. But she hadn’t said a word. Her silence didn’t sit well with him.
“Why didn’t she tell the police about him?”
“I’m not a mind reader.”
“Then we need to get her to talk. Is the den computer safe for her to use?”
“I switched to a blank hard disk while she was sleeping. And I’ve installed a program that will record every keystroke.”
“Good. Keeping your cover while she’s living here will be difficult but worth it.”
“I’ve set it so calls to the land line will roll to my office phone. The last thing we need is Erica answering a call from my mother or Joe. If you need to reach me, call the cell.”
“I want to keep her here as long as possible.” JT paused. “Her walls need painting; that’ll get us a few days.”
Uneasiness spread through Lee. “I’ll pay for it.”
“It might be easier if I make her my new pet charity case.” JT sat back, a speculative gleam in his eyes, and Lee’s unease built.
“No.”
“Look, she’s keeping secrets. One of us needs to win her trust if we want to find out why she’s afraid of Novak. I’m perfectly content to let you be the one to wine and dine her, but I’m worried you aren’t objective where she’s concerned.”
“I said no.” Lee sat forward, not bothering to hide his anger. “For all we know, Novak took advantage of her when she was vulnerable. I won’t let you do the same thing.”
JT’s eyes took on a cold look, every inch the powerful CEO
who negotiated with presidents and generals. Once upon a time, this man had been his brother. He’d always been his best friend. “I’ll do whatever is necessary. Someone is using my company to smuggle artifacts out of Iraq. I need to find out who and hand them over to the Feds with a big red bow before the press gets wind of what’s going on and the scandal ruins the campaign.” His voice hardened. “Erica is either actively involved or she knows something. Her office and home have been trashed. And don’t forget what happened to Tommy Riversong.”
“I haven’t forgotten, but I won’t let you toy with her emotions. If you do, I’ll tell her everything.”
“You wouldn’t do that. You owe me, Lee.”
The reminder was a cheap shot. Lee’s mother had dissolved her marriage to Joseph Talon without a second thought and dragged Lee along through more nightmare relationships until he was old enough to choose his own home. There weren’t many twenty-one-year-olds who would provide a home to a damaged sixteen-year-old kid who wasn’t even related to him anymore.
“I’m not your spy because I owe you or Joe. I’m doing it because I believe in Joe. I want to see him win, but not at any price. I won’t let you use her. She’s a person, JT, and she may be innocent. Would you screw me over if you thought I was a liability for the campaign?”
“That’s a pretty speech. But the truth is you’re only objecting because you want her.”
Lee choked on his answer.
“Fuck her if you want to, but don’t fuck up the investigation because you’re thinking with your dick.”
“I’m not thinking with my dick.” But he was afraid he was.
“Christ. I can’t believe this. You’ve never fallen for anyone. Why Erica? Why now?”
Lee was silent. Memory of the warm light in Erica’s eyes when he held her at the FDR memorial came to mind. Finally he said, “I don’t know. So what are you going to do?”
JT leaned back in his chair and relaxed as though their confrontation was of no consequence, while Lee struggled to maintain his calm.
A wicked grin played across JT’s features. “She believes you’re twenty-five and a lazy intern, right?”
