A Breath Away

by Wendy Etherington

“I won’t lie to them. I won’t pretend our relationship is just professional.”

  She sat up. “Remy—”

  He pulled her on top of him, though he hated to interrupt his name falling from her lips. Maybe because she’d denied him that pleasure for so long. “I can’t pretend one thing and live another.”

  Her jaw dropped. “That’s what you do every day.”

  “Not with us.” He slid his thumb across her bottom lip. “Something about my life has to be real. Do you know how long it’s been since I shared a conversation with someone—at least someone not wearing a religious habit—about my life, my real life? Do you know how hard it is to keep so much inside, to lie and deceive everyone you know and meet?”

  “I do.”

  “I don’t know why this is happening to me, now, with you. But I know I want more. I want to be honest, and I want to talk to someone who understands, someone who’s been there. Someone I admire.”

  She bowed her head briefly, then surprised him by laying her head against his bare chest. “I share my work with Frank, but I share myself with nobody. For as long as we’re together, for as long as the case lasts, I won’t hold back. But I think the odds are good that we’ll spend a lot of time arguing.”

  Probably. He kissed her temple. “We might surprise each other.”

  “Maybe.” She lifted her head. “Are we allowed to talk about the case?”

  He smiled and stroked her jaw. For such a tough woman, her skin was amazingly soft. “You’re allowed to do anything you want.”

  She wriggled off him and left the bed. “Then I need to get dressed.”

  He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Then no case.”

  “I can’t talk to you naked.”

  Standing, he cupped her bare backside, molding her hips against his already hardening groin. “If you insist.”

  She pulled away from him. “See, this is why I have to have clothes on to talk to you.”

  Sighing about the inevitable, he picked up his shirt from the floor. He tossed it to her as he walked into the bathroom to get himself a towel. “I’ll give this fifteen minutes.”

  “It’s your case we need to talk about, you know,” she called after him.

  After splashing cold water on his face—and other parts—he returned with the towel slung around his waist. “I’m aware of that.”

  Still buttoning Remy’s shirt over her chest, Jade didn’t look up at his words. She was too busy inhaling his spicy scent still clinging to the fabric, and marveling over the silky texture. The sensual effect he had permeated every part of her. Her body still vibrated from his touch. Her skin felt hot. Her pulse raced.

  She wanted him again. In a variety of positions and many times over.

  “I just need to—” She finally looked up, and her breath froze in her throat.

  He stood several yards away, the bathroom light outlining his broad-shouldered frame. Beads of either water or sweat rolled down his tanned skin. His washboard abs rippled above the white towel hanging low on his hips. His dark hair was pushed off his face, and his sliver eyes glowed.

  He was a fantasy. He’d stepped out of a dream she’d had at some point in her life when she’d still believed dreams came true. When she’d thought she’d be whole and loved again.

  When had she stopped dreaming? When had cynicism set in? When had she started countering tenderness with sarcasm?

  He forced her to remember she wasn’t just a security expert, bodyguard, marksman or former agent. She was a woman with hopes and dreams and needs. She wanted so much more for herself than just her job. But that first step into real intimacy was a doozie.

  And though she’d compromised her professionalism—something she’d sworn she would never do again—she sensed he might be worth it. Was it possible he could give her all she needed and more?

  “What?” he asked, holding out his arms.

  Knees weak, she sank onto the bed. “Nothing.” She shook her head in an effort to clear her thoughts. “I just—I had something to say.”

  He walked toward her and gripped her elbows. “You were amazing tonight at the club.”

  Her gaze dipped briefly to his nearly bare body. Dear heaven, the man is blessed. And not in a way Sister Mary Katherine would know about. “You think so?” she managed to say, though without her usual hardiness.

  “You had that guy pinned to the ground before I’d even thought to move.”

  “Mmm, well, I saw him first.”

  “I doubt it would have mattered.”

  “Not upset that a woman defended you?”

  “Hell, no.” He angled his head, his gorgeous face partly shadowed in the low light, giving him a dark, mysterious appearance. “Not that I’m sending out a group e-mail announcement about it.”

  She curled her lip.

  He trailed his finger along her bare thigh, sending waves of heat through her body. “I’d rather demonstrate my appreciation in other, more personal ways.”

  “Keep it up, and next time I’ll send the kick in your direction.”

  He gripped the collar of her—actually his—shirt, then pulled it away from her neck so he could place soft, lingering kisses beneath her ear. “Have I told you that you look very sexy wearing my shirt?”

  Her breath was clogging her throat, and she fought to hold on to some semblance of sanity. “You just did.”

  He flicked his tongue over her earlobe. “Maybe I should emphasize my point.”

  She gasped. “You just did.”

  His lips slid to her jaw. “I’m pretty sure I need to go further.”

  Before she remembered to argue, he’d unbuttoned the shirt. His warm, confident hands cupped her breasts, and she let her head fall back as she absorbed his touch. When was the last time she’d wanted a man’s hands on her so much? When had she been unable to talk about a case or keep her focus?

  Ah…never.

  Her nipples hardened as his thumbs caressed them into aching peaks. She went damp between her legs. The desire always shimmering beneath the surface roared into focus again.

  “I need you,” he whispered against her throat. “I need you constantly.”

  He trailed his hand down her stomach, then slid his fingers into the warmth of her sex. She gasped as relief, pleasure and a craving for more all shot down her spine.

  “Quietly,” he said, obviously enjoying her torture.

  He pushed his finger up and down slowly, then faster, then slow again. Her breathing accelerated. The hunger intensified.

  “How about quickly?”

  He complied for a second or two. “Like this?”

  She gripped his shoulders to keep from collapsing at his feet. “Oh…ah, yes.”

  Just as she could feel her desire spiraling upward, striving toward a peak, he slowed again.

  She nearly cried. “You’re killing me.”

  “Yeah? This is what it’s like for me every minute of the day. When you come close to me or smile at me, I soar. When you look like you’d rather punch me, when I feel your disappointment, I drop.”

  Wasn’t it the same for her? She couldn’t explain it, and wasn’t sure she liked it, but her emotions and reactions were tied up with his. Her world had become centered around him so quickly, so surely. She was scared and exhilarated at the same time.

  “I’m at your mercy now, though,” she said, knowing she needed to try to give him the words and truth he gave her.

  “Yes, you are.”

  As he continued placing silky kisses along her neck and shoulders, and his finger prolonged its erratic rhythm, she knew she was going to faint or explode. She rolled her hips forward in an effort to deepen his touch, her body straining for completion.

  “This what you need?” he asked as he slid two fingers inside her.

  Oh, yes.

  She couldn’t speak. She just clung to him. She never let anyone control her, yet here she was, in the middle of a dangerous, critical case, and she was letting a man, a client she’d known barely
twenty-four hours, play her like a stringed instrument.

  More remarkably, she wanted more. She wanted to deepen their connection, she wanted to know him better, to share her concerns, to understand the way he thought.

  Her muscles tightened around his fingers. Her legs trembled.

  Then the bottom fell out. Her orgasm pulsed through her body with the force of a series of kicks, wringing every last drop of need and energy from her.

  By the time she’d returned to earth and opened her eyes, she realized he still stood in front of her, the towel wrapped around his waist. He was smiling.

  He hadn’t—Didn’t he want to—

  “What about you?” she managed to ask.

  “Watching you was enough.” He cupped her cheek. “For the moment.”

  9

  FEELING A BIT FOOLISH that she’d gotten so carried away, Jade gathered the edges of her shirt together. “I should go.”

  “I thought you wanted to discuss the case.”

  What case? she almost asked.

  He’d rattled her way too much. Wasn’t it enough she’d completely compromised her professionalism? Did she have to further humiliate herself by forgetting she even had a job?

  On the edge of being orgasmic, she had optimism. Back to reality, regret and uncertainty took over.

  “We can talk tomorrow,” she said, searching the room for her clothes.

  He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and held her in place. “Don’t go.”

  She closed her eyes. Her pulse beat hard and strong where he touched her. So many emotions raced around inside her, she couldn’t keep track of them all. “I’m embarrassing myself.”

  “You’re not. You couldn’t with me.”

  She’d let down her guard and now she couldn’t figure out how to reconstruct the walls.

  He gathered her clothes and boots, then handed them to her. Nodding toward the bathroom, he said, “Get dressed. I’ll wait for you out here.”

  She latched on to the chance to escape without a backward glance. She didn’t look at herself in the mirror as she tossed on her clothes and splashed water on her face. She never avoided confrontation. Hell, confrontation was part of her job.

  Turning away from the lurking mirror, she shoved her feet into her boots and felt almost normal. She wished she had her pistol, but it was lying on her bedside table in the other room.

  Be ready for anything, at any time, Frank had once said to her. If that means sleeping with your gun at your side, or not sleeping at all, then that’s what you do.

  At the moment, she didn’t much feel like the student Frank had believed held so much promise. She didn’t feel like the righteous avenger she’d been at nineteen. She didn’t even feel like the kick-ass agent she’d become over time.

  She felt guilty.

  And, for the first time in a very long time, fear rolled over her. Remy’s life was on the line. This man she cared about and shared an intimacy with she couldn’t even begin to explain was in grave danger. The lines between client and lover blurred, causing everything else to blur. She couldn’t be scared and do her job. She had to focus.

  Turning, she finally faced herself.

  She saw an average-looking woman with rumpled hair and clothes. Her makeup had been kissed or worn off, making her skin paler and her freckles stand out. But the intensity in her eyes cheered her, even with the shadows beneath them. She was ready to fight again.

  As she stalked into the bedroom, she noticed Remy had changed into jeans and a plain white T-shirt. She’d always seen him dressed elegantly, so the change made her stomach jump.

  She forced herself to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. She forced herself to think.

  “Where do you think the ring came from?”

  “I think it was part of a business deal or heist that Garner and Nagel pulled off. Or, more likely, Garner hired Nagel to commit.”

  “Thieves stick together.”

  His eyes were blank as he looked over at her. “Like me?”

  “But you’re not. Not anymore.”

  “Are you so sure?”

  Was he messing with her? Did he enjoy challenging her?

  Oh, yeah. A big, fat yes.

  But maybe he was really hurt by her distaste for his former life. Well, she didn’t see how that could change. No matter how he’d managed to justify it to himself, he’d taken from others and profited. That was just…wrong.

  Not that she hadn’t made mistakes in her life. Some people would probably say the people she’d killed—even in the name of justice and by direction of her government—were victims. Many more would adversely judge her for taking revenge on her parents’ killer. Was she so pure? Was anybody?

  “I can hear your moralistic wheels turning, you know,” he said, linking hands with her.

  She glanced down at their joined fingers and wished she could feel uncomfortable with the contact.

  “The ring was probably part of the take,” he said.

  “But it’s not worth much.”

  “I’ve often wondered if it’s a key to finding something else. Like a clue to where a treasure is buried.”

  “Sounds a bit far-fetched. And if Nagel was such a great family friend, why didn’t he tell you why he wanted it? It seems to me, he wanted to trick a young boy out of something he knew was valuable.”

  “Could be. Regardless, he died with that secret.”

  “So, how did it wind up in your possession?”

  “Since Garner wound up killing Nagel, I wonder if Nagel had stolen the ring, betrayed him in some way.”

  “Still, how did it get from Nagel to your mother to you?”

  He shrugged, and goose bumps prickled her skin. He was holding back—again. He knew, or suspected, where the ring had come from.

  Why did he continually refuse to give her the information she needed to solve his case? Why wouldn’t he trust her?

  He’ll never trust anybody. He’s a thief.

  A point she always needed to keep in mind. And regardless of his suspicions or his motives, he certainly knew where the ring was now.

  She rose, letting go of his hand, and stared down at him. “I need to see the ring.”

  He stood and picked his pants up off the floor. Reaching into the pocket, he pulled out an object he dropped in her palm.

  It was a worn-looking ring in a silver setting with a scratched onyx stone.

  Anger bubbled in her veins. “You had it all the time.”

  “Yes.”

  She curled her fingers around the ring. “You lied.”

  He nodded, and she felt an answering wrench of pain near her heart. “I did.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s not about us. I just—”

  “I get it.” She fisted her hands at her sides, her body throbbing with fury. “You didn’t lie to me, your lover, just me, your security chief.” Glaring up at him, she jutted her chin forward. “Did you notice we’re the same person?”

  He reached for her. “Jade, I—”

  She took a big step backward, both mentally and physically. She couldn’t believe she’d trusted this man, this thief, to actually be up front with her.

  He wanted to save his own ass, of course, but he didn’t want to cooperate or listen to advice. And his own agenda bubbled beneath the surface all the time. For all she knew, he’d killed Nagel and taken the ring. Using a nun as an alibi would be part of the kick. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to get involved. Separate business from pleasure? Who does that?” She rocked back on her heels. “But let’s ridiculously assume you can separate me from my job. Any particular reason you felt the need to lie to the person in charge of your security?”

  “I didn’t fully trust you.”

  “No kidding?” She turned away, not wanting him to see how much that hurt. “That’s probably wise in retrospect since I may shoot you myself and get this whole, beyond-annoying case over with.”

  “Please look at me.”

  “No.”
/>
  She sensed him moving behind her. He laid his hands on her shoulders. “I should have trusted you.”

  God, she wanted to hit him. “You think?”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t. I don’t trust anybody. I never have.”

  “Except Sister Mary Katherine.” She glared at him over her shoulder. “Or is that a lie, too?”

  His eyes were bleak. “It’s not. You know it’s not.”

  True, she’d checked out his background, but she had only his word about his bond with the nun. She had only his version of the investigation concerning the ring. She had only his suspicions that a respected art dealer was actually a murderer.

  Did she understand his struggle with trusting anybody?

  Yes.

  Did she think of him and Garner in the same category?

  No.

  She didn’t believe Remy capable of killing in cold blood. Not even for a big profit. Even through her anger, she knew the thrill of evading security, of being somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be, of beating the system, of possessing something he shouldn’t have, was the kick for him. The money was just a side benefit.

  He had the nerve to give her his half grin. “You’re going to forgive me.”

  She turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Maybe, but I’m still pissed, so keep your distance.” Calmer, she examined the ring clutched in her fist. “Not that I doubted you, but you’re right, the jewelry itself isn’t the valuable part.”

  “Definitely not.”

  The trinket in her hand had cost one man his life and was threatening her client’s. There had to be more than she saw. “So let’s go with your earlier theory. Is the ring part of the heist or part of the solution to finding something else?”

  “Like more treasure? What do you think?”

  She examined the ring from every side. Crossing to the lamp at the bedside, she flipped it on and looked at the ring under the bright light. “Have you ever popped out the stone? Maybe there’s a secret message concealed inside.”

  “Like a fortune cookie?”

  “Sure.” This case only got more bizarre by the second. “Why not?”

  He moved toward her, taking the ring from her hands and using a metal, toothpick-size gadget to pop the stone from the setting. The gadget disappeared back into his pocket. “Is that a lock pick?” she asked.