by Rachel Grant
They drank wine and entwined fingers across the white tablecloth. Her eyes were a rich, warm gray, and she wore her hair down. Christ, he really was falling in love. “I need to call JT. He’ll know where to find a dress.”
“JT is an expert on women’s fashion?”
“Well-dressed arm candy is the accessory no executive can be without.” He pulled out his cell phone. When JT answered, he said, “I need to know where Alexandra buys her dresses when she accompanies you to political events.”
“It’s an exclusive shop—appointments by referral only. I’ll call and get back to you.”
“I can’t believe JT’s going along with this,” Erica said after he hung up. “The idea of spending a thousand dollars on a dress is ridiculous.”
“It’s going to cost much more than a thousand bucks. Think of yourself as Cinderella.”
“You and JT are my fairy godmothers?”
He laughed. “All I have to do is wave my magic credit card, and you can go to the ball.” He lowered his voice. “Last night, instead of fairy godmother, you just called me God. Repeatedly.” He kissed her fingers. He could see the arousal in her eyes as her pupils dilated and the gray took on more color.
She slipped a finger into his mouth. He caught it between his teeth and sucked on the tip. She shifted in her seat, crossed her legs, straightened her spine. She was as turned on as he was.
“I don’t want to shop anymore,” she murmured. “I have other entertainment in mind.”
“We haven’t found a dress yet.”
She pressed her foot against his crotch. Bare toes explored his erection.
“Yes. I’m hard. I want you. But we still need to find you a dress.” Oh God. If she did that thing with her big toe again, he might change his mind.
His cell phone rang. It was JT. “She’s got an appointment in fifteen minutes.”
He scooted his chair back, and her foot dropped away. He missed the heat of her against him as he wrote down the name and address of the shop. Minutes later, the bill was paid, and they were back on the street, heading to the exclusive boutique.
The proprietress greeted them like old friends. She scanned Erica from head to foot, then said, “I have just the thing,” and disappeared into the back, leaving them alone.
Lee poured them both champagne from the ready ice bucket and passed a glass to Erica. Before she took a sip, he caught her around the waist, pulled her against him, and kissed her.
He leaned back and studied her flushed face and closed eyes. Her beauty stirred him, sure, but this went deeper than that. He was nearly undone by the look of relaxed happiness she wore and felt a rush of masculine pride. He’d put that smile on her face. He’d drawn out the sensual woman hidden inside the scared and tense shell.
He dropped small kisses along her jaw, ending at her ear, where he nipped the lobe. “After we find your dress, we’re going underwear shopping,” he whispered.
“I don’t need underwear.” She pulled at his shirt. “I just need you.” Her lips were next to his ear, her words a low, breathy whisper. “Inside me.”
Good Lord. He felt a painful ache as she again surprised him with her alluring, wanton nature. Perhaps she’d boxed herself up for so long and, now freed, could no longer contain her sexuality. Whatever the reason, he liked it. A lot.
The shop owner returned, and he reluctantly let her go. “This will look wonderful with Ms. Kesling’s pale skin and dark hair.” She held up a floor-length crimson silk evening gown. The shoulders were nothing more than thin straps of silver beads, and the low V-shaped bodice was entirely covered in red and silver beads. At the waist, the beading tapered into points that became thin strands of vertical silver that trailed down and disappeared in the uneven, frothy hem.
“It’s…beautiful,” Erica said, reverently running her fingers over the dazzling beadwork. The look in her eye told him she wanted the dress, even though it wasn’t practical, even though the cost was obscene. They’d finally found a dress frugal Erica couldn’t resist.
“It’s Escada,” the saleswoman said. “A new design, destined to be knocked off, but this is an original.”
Erica pulled her hand back. “No. I can’t—”
Lee smiled. Her mouth said no, but her eyes said yes. He placed a finger under her champagne glass and tilted it to her lips. “Relax. Drink your champagne. Try it on.”
She took a large gulp and couldn’t possibly have tasted the French vintage.
He took a seat while she slipped behind a curtained wall to don the gown. A few minutes later, she returned in glittering red and silver. Hit in the gut by how stunning she was, he choked on champagne and suffered a coughing fit, making his eyes water. The beaded bodice hugged her breasts and threatened to overflow, guaranteeing every heterosexual male eye would follow her all night long. The silk fabric draped over her hips; the lines of silver beads accentuated her natural curves.
The coughing eased. “I believe that’s where the word ‘breathtaking’ comes from.” He turned to the saleswoman. “She needs shoes.”
The woman opened a box already in her hands. “How about these?” The high heels had thin straps of silver beading, and the red silk matched the dress.
“Perfect,” he said. He touched the delicate glass beads and smiled at Erica. “Close enough to a glass slipper.” But by midnight, his identity would be the one revealed.
After completing the purchase, they left the boutique. Lee held her hand as they headed for the lingerie shop up the street.
“How much was it?” she asked.
“You don’t want to know.” She’d freak out if she knew the dress, shoes, and evening bag had cost several thousand dollars. The price was excessive, but the dress was exactly what she needed for Saturday night. The party was important. More than she knew. Possibly even more than he realized. He just hoped the armor of an exceptional gown would protect her.
UNDERWEAR SHOPPING WAS SHEER torture for Erica. She wanted to buy the first items she could find, head home, and drag Lee into the bedroom. But he made her try on bras. And camisoles. And negligees.
“Lee, I don’t need this much underwear. What I need is clothing for work.”
His eyes turned liquid sexy. “You can wear these to work. I’ll go insane knowing you’re wearing a silk teddy under your shapeless, boring outfits.”
She grabbed a thong off the nearest display table and shot it at him. He caught it and held it up. “Good idea. Grab five more of these.”
Finally, she’d selected enough items to please him. She studied him as he signed the credit card slip. She’d never met a man so at ease with dressing a woman. He clearly wasn’t gay. How did he know so much about women’s clothing? “Do you have sisters?” she asked as they left the shop.
“Sisters? No. Why?”
“You’re awfully comfortable shopping for women’s clothing. But you’re too young to have had many long-term relationships.”
“I started young.”
“Hmmm… You’re handsome enough, but you know computers too well, and you must have gone through a terrible awkward stage when you shot up to six-five. Then there’s the debate team. Nope. I don’t believe you. You were a high school geek.”
He tried to look offended, but his eyes were laughing. “Not all programmers are geeks.”
“No. But the really good ones are. Let’s face it, if nerds could get laid, they wouldn’t spend so much time playing computer games.”
He chuckled. “I’m tempted to play Tomb Raider when we get home to prove you wrong.”
“When you could have sex with a real archaeologist? I don’t think so.”
“True.” He grabbed her hand and pulled. “Walk faster. I’ve had a hard-on for hours. I can’t take it anymore.”
She laughed. They began walking at a brisk pace, but by the time they were within a block of the Watergate, they’d worked their way up to a jog. Then he looked at her, a devilish glint in his eye and he took her hand and pulled her into a flat
-out run. By the time they reached the elevator, she was winded and laughing hard.
The elevator doors opened onto their floor, and again they ran, racing each other to the apartment. Inside, Lee closed the door and leaned against the panel. “Get your panties off, woman.” He undid his belt. “If I don’t bury myself deep inside you soon, I’m going to make a mess and disappoint us both.”
She laughed and helped free him from his pants. Her lips brushed against his. “Don’t worry. I’m not wearing panties. The last time I was in the dressing room, I took them off. You wanted commando, you got it.”
He pulled up her skirt and groaned when his hands touched bare skin. “You just ran through the streets of Georgetown in a short skirt without underwear?”
“Why do you think I was laughing so hard? One wrong step and people were going to get a show.”
He slid his hands over her butt, pressing her against his erection. “Wall or floor?” he asked against her lips.
“Wall,” she gasped as his fingers slid inside her.
He pulled a condom from his pocket just before his pants dropped to the ground. He ripped the foil package open, rolled the condom on, and entered her on the same forward thrust. “God, you’re wet,” he murmured.
With her back braced against the wall, she wrapped her legs around his waist and tucked her head into his neck, fighting embarrassment. Was she too hot for him? Was it a sign of her neediness?
He must have sensed her reaction, because he whispered in her ear, “Look at me.”
She met his gaze. He thrust into her again. She closed her eyes.
His tongue slid into her mouth, copying the rhythm of his body. He lifted his lips. “Open your eyes.”
She complied.
His eyes burned into hers. “You were hot and ready”—he slid deep inside her to punctuate his words—“and you feel…incredible. There’s nothing sexier than having you ready—just from thinking about me—before I even touched you. I feel like a god right now.” He slid into her again, closing his own eyes this time.
“You are a god right now,” she said. This is just sex. Hot, hard, incredible, but sex and nothing more. Her legs tightened around him. “Oh God,” she groaned as shock waves of pleasure spiraled through her.
He held her against the wall as his body shuddered with release. She cupped his face between her hands and kissed him, sucked on his tongue, breathed him in, enjoyed every bit of the perfect moment, this perfect man.
He lifted his mouth from hers and stared into her eyes. “I’m sorry, Erica. For what I did last night.” He was serious. She could see it in his eyes, in the sad twist of his mouth. “I really am falling in love with you.”
Her heart thudded. She was so damn tempted to say the words back. She settled for what she could say. “I forgive you.” She even meant it.
He smiled, but his eyes clouded over. Would her unwillingness to love him back drive him away?
She kissed him again. Forgiveness tasted savory, a sauce that intensified an already rich flavor.
The rest of the afternoon and evening was a sensuous blur. All she could give him, all she could take, was today. No one had ever stuck by her through rough times, and she knew come Saturday, she was in for very rough times.
IN THE EARLY HOURS of the morning, she woke up alone in the bedroom. “Lee?” she called.
No answer. She tumbled out of bed. He couldn’t be in the connecting bathroom; she’d have heard him. She made her way to the hallway, still more asleep than awake. He wasn’t in the guest bathroom either.
The click of a computer keyboard gave her the first clue as to his whereabouts. She padded to the den, leaned against the doorjamb, then shut her eyes tight to block the bright overhead light. “You’d better not be playing Tomb Raider, or I’m going to feel insulted.”
“I didn’t mean to wake you.” She heard him get up, then heard a soft click, and the red inside her eyelids turned black.
She dared to open her eyes. “Thanks,” she muttered in the dark room. His arms slipped around her, and she pressed her face against his warm chest. “What are you doing at the computer? What time is it?”
“Four. I couldn’t sleep and decided to work on JT’s database. I’m behind.”
“I knew you were a geek. Only a computer nerd turns to programming when he can’t sleep.” He smelled like Lee: a warm, rich, masculine scent that was both sexy and comforting.
His chest shook with laughter. “That’s my Erica. Even half-asleep, she insults me. Is it any wonder I’m in love with her?”
She shook her head and pulled away from him. “This is just lust. But I’m too tired to argue. You coming back to bed?”
“No, but you should sleep. I’ll wake you at five thirty so we can work out together.” He kissed the top of her head, and she left, smiling at the thought of sparring with him.
She was drifting back to sleep when she sat bolt upright. An image from the computer monitor had seared into her brain, but it had been too brief a flash for her to register what she’d seen while she stood groggily in the hall.
Lee had been viewing a photograph of the Bassetki statue base of Naram-Sin of Akkad, which had been looted from the Iraq museum in 2003. The name of the piece of art was burned into her mind as indelibly as the image on the computer screen. She’d researched the artifact after finding a picture of it in Jake’s cabin. The same picture Lee had been looking at a moment ago—the picture she had found inside the envelope she’d taken from Jake’s cabin.
The envelope she’d sent to a DNA lab on Wednesday.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
LEE HEARD THE BEDROOM door slam against the wall. Alarm raced through him. Was Erica okay? He bolted to the hall and caught her as she flung herself from the bedroom and into his arms.
“Sweetheart, what happened?”
Her eyes were wide with fear. “What are you working on?”
A wave of cold dread ran through him. Had she seen the computer screen when she surprised him before? He’d hacked the cell phone that sent the message about SARAC, and had recovered deleted photo files—year-old snapshots of Middle Eastern artifacts. Had she recognized a photo? Could she be in on the smuggling? “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, and seemed to recover herself. Some of the fear left her eyes. “I want to know what you’re working on for JT.” She took a breath. “I saw the photo on the screen of the statue base, and I’m wondering what Mesopotamian artifacts have to do with JT’s database.”
Relief swept through him. She was telling the truth. For once. Too bad he couldn’t do the same. “I was taking a break. I’d been thinking about the deck of cards you said Janice showed you—the ones about looting in Iraq—so I did some Google searches on the Iraq museum.”
She didn’t believe him; he could see it in her eyes. What he’d been dreading had finally happened: she was suspicious of him. She pushed him aside and entered the den. “Show me.”
“Sure.” He leaned over the keyboard and typed in a few keywords, quickly finding the web page he’d viewed after recovering the cell phone photo. The screen showed the official museum photograph of the Bassetki statue base and an article about items looted from the museum. The statue was listed as still missing.
“This is what you were looking at?” She looked confused, like she didn’t believe him yet wanted to.
“Yes. Why?”
“I thought I saw something else.”
Dammit. She was still holding out on him. Had she helped Novak with this deal? Was she the photographer? Was the disposable cell phone hers? It had been used Tuesday afternoon in Alexandria, Virginia—while she was clothes shopping, alone. Once the phone was activated, he’d locked on and snatched all the data he could download from the memory card before it was shut off again. He was sorting through the data now, in hopes of identifying the owner.
He stood and wrapped his arms around her. He was stiff as anger coursed through him. She didn’t trust him, which was m
addening enough. But worse, he couldn’t trust her.
What do you do when you both know the other is lying? Keep up the pretense.
He forced himself to drop the stiffness and tightened his arms around her, reaching for her breast. His actions lacked sexual heat, so he compensated, drawing on anger to provide the missing spark. He massaged and murmured, “You were half-asleep. The light was bright. I’m surprised you saw anything at all.”
Slowly, very, very, slowly, she relaxed against him. But she didn’t respond to his touch with desire of her own. This was a first. And a sign distrust went both ways.
“You should sleep,” he said.
She nodded and padded away on silent feet. He closed the den door and locked it. He had a hell of a lot to do and didn’t have time for more interruptions, more questions, more lies.
Christ, he may have fallen for a thief.
THEY RODE THE METRO to work, both silent. Erica was in turmoil, wondering who Lee was and if he worked for Jake.
Talon & Drake had a team of people working in Iraq, and those employees could have smuggled artifacts out of the country and passed them to Sam Riversong, who contacted Jake and traded Iraqi artifacts he couldn’t use for Aztec ones he could.
It was possible JT was involved. Soon, Jake would be working with Talon & Drake. Jake could have warned JT about the need to neutralize her. Was Lee JT’s method for dealing with her? Was his sham of an internship merely their attempt to control her?
Was their entire relationship a con?
She felt sick, realizing her apartment could have been trashed to force her to move in with Lee, to make his seduction that much easier.
She studied his square jaw, chiseled cheekbones, and sculpted muscles. He was…gorgeous. A handsome, enticing man. Had JT spent a fortune hiring this male model to play intern and seducer? At least she’d gotten JT’s money’s worth. The man was an amazing lover. And she’d been falling for him.
He smiled and dropped a hand to her knee, giving it a comforting squeeze. At least, it would be comforting if she didn’t believe he was in league with the scumbag who’d destroyed her life.
