How could that man be evil? How was it possible that he could be the monster who made a profit from ungodly savagery that promoted war and terrorism? Somehow she simply could not relate one with the other. Dear God, was it possible that Leland was right? Was there more to Burke Lonigan’s secret life than she knew? If so, what could it be?
“Champagne?” Burke handed her a filled flute, the effervescent bubbles foaming to the brim of the glass.
She accepted the flute and in the process their hands accidently brushed. Their gazes met and held for just a second, but long enough for her to see the longing in Burke’s eyes. She knew that at least his desire was real.
But she suspected that if she had seen the truth in his eyes, he had seen the same in hers. That meant he knew she wanted him, despite all her noble protests.
Burke lifted his glass, his gaze still focused on Callie’s face.
“Here’s to you…and me…and to both of us getting what we want.”
Warmth suffused her body as a flush crept up her neck and stained her cheeks pink. With only a slight hesitation, she lifted her glass and said, “To wishes coming true.” And just before her lips touched the rim of the crystal flute, she made her silent wish.
I wish that Burke were the kind of man that I would be proud to introduce to Seamus as his father. And…and if he were that kind of man, I wish that he would love me.
Simon entered the smoky pub in East London. He pulled the brim of his hat over his forehead and turned up the collar of his trench coat. With his good eye, he scanned the bar area and met the gaze of the man he’d come to see. He nodded, motioning for the guy to come to him.
Larson brought a couple of mugs of beer with him as he headed toward the booth Simon had chosen.
“Here we are,” Larson said.
Simon took the mug, but didn’t bother with polite conversation. Not with the likes of Mick Larson, whom he’d hired to oversee the job of keeping tabs on Burke Lonigan and his fiancée. He saved his good manners for people and occasions that deserved them.
“Lonigan and his woman boarded that private jet of his and it took off for Italy this afternoon,” Larson said. “Still got a man keeping tabs on the cousin and the laddie. Seems Lonigan’s man, Perkins, is staying at the Kensington town house with them.”
“Good. That means Lonigan didn’t take my threats lightly.” Simon took a hefty swig of the dark beer, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll let you know when to call off your men. As soon as my business is completed, I’ll be in touch.” Simon reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope. “Here’s the amount we agreed on. Once this is over, I’ll see that you get a bonus.”
Larson grabbed the payment, lifted his mug and slid out of the booth. Simon remained at the pub long enough to finish his beer, then slipped onto the foggy East London street. With Burke Lonigan, true to his word, married and away on his honeymoon, Simon was ready to proceed with the arms deal. Lonigan had made the arrangements several days ago. All that was required now was a simple phone call to tell Lonigan’s associates that the time was right.
Within twenty-four hours, the shipment of weapons would finally be in his possession. The corners of Simon’s mouth lifted in a satisfied smile.
Chapter 9
From the airport in Naples, a chauffeured limousine took them to Burke’s villa on the Amalfi coast. They arrived just before twilight. The lingering sunlight washed the world with transparent gold—the sky, the earth, the atmosphere glimmered with an aureate sheen. Callie hadn’t been in Italy for years and she’d almost forgotten what a magnificent country it was. Beautiful in the way only ancient countries that honored their history could be.
Callie’s family wasn’t rich, only moderately wealthy. What her American relatives referred to as upper middle class. But Burke was rich. Super rich. With a private jet. A home in Belgravia. A villa in Italy. And apartments in Paris and New York. Her husband lived in a world that most people only dreamed of and never saw except in movies and magazines.
Just as they rounded a bend in the narrow road the Villa Bella Di Vista came into view. Callie gasped. She hadn’t meant to voice her surprise, but the sight of the elegant, incredibly magnificent villa situated on the cliffs above the sea took her breath away. She had heard that this was the most romantic of all the Italian coastlines, and now she believed it. Words could never express the magnificence of the villa, the grounds and the panoramic view.
“Do you approve?” Burke asked.
Callie glanced at him to see if he was joking, but the look on his face was somber. “It’s beautiful.”
When the chauffeur opened the limousine door, Burke emerged and held out his hand to assist Callie. “Then you do like it?”
“Like it? I love it.” Callie pivoted slowly as if her body were on an axis. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so breathtaking.”
“Good. It would seem I made the right choice for our honeymoon.”
Callie tensed momentarily at the mention of their honeymoon. But when Burke turned immediately to issue instructions to the chauffeur concerning their luggage, she walked toward the white columned portico entrance to the palatial villa.
Burke came up behind her, slid his arm around her waist and diverted her attention from the house to the grounds. “Would you like a tour of the gardens before it gets dark?”
A shiver of sexual awareness rippled along her nerve endings. Just the gentle touch of his arm around her ignited unwanted urges within her. But she didn’t pull away. Somehow it would seem foolish to overreact to such an innocent act.
“I’d very much like to see the grounds,” she told him.
The villa was surrounded by large gardens that led to a terrace with a breathtaking view. Balconies hung over the cliffs and miniature gardens descended to the sea. A large swimming pool, situated on the terrace, caught Callie’s eye.
“It’s heated,” Burke said. “We could take a swim later tonight, if you’d like.”
When she wiggled away from his loose hold, he didn’t try to reclaim the physical connection. “I’m tired. We’ve had a long day.”
“Yes, of course. And you’re probably hungry, too.” With a welcoming sweep of his hand, he invited her into his villa. “I gave instructions for dinner to be ready for us when we arrived.”
“Do you have servants here?” she asked as she followed him toward the house.
“Yes, a husband and wife, who look after the house and grounds. But they left several hours ago, as instructed, so we could have our privacy.”
“Because you want them to think this is a real honeymoon.”
“Yes.”
Callie noted the odd expression on Burke’s face and couldn’t help wondering if he felt as awkward as she did. But how was that possible? Could the suave, sophisticated Burke Lonigan ever feel ill at ease? Perhaps. After all, he’d never gone on a pretend honeymoon before, had he?
The chauffeur met them on the steps leading to the portico. Burke spoke to him in Italian, thanking him in one sentence and dismissing him in the other. Callie’s mother had been fluent in Italian, but her own knowledge was rudimentary at best. She understood a word now and then during the conversation.
The chauffeur smiled at Callie and then said to Burke, “Il vostro bride e molto bello.”
Burke draped his arm around Callie’s shoulders and drew her to his side. “He’s right. My bride is very beautiful.”
“Vi auguro molta felicita,” the chauffeur said in parting, then got in the limousine and drove away.
“What was that last thing he said?” Callie asked, as Burke opened the double doors leading from the portico to the grand foyer.
“He wished us much happiness.”
Callie took a deep breath as she entered the house, but found she hadn’t been prepared for such splendor. A marble staircase led up to the second floor. White and light and airy and yet elegant and filled with priceless antiques.
“What do
you want first?” he asked. “We can eat or you can go upstairs to the bedrooms and…relax.”
“I think I’d like to go upstairs, freshen up and change clothes.”
“This way.” Burke led her up the curved marble staircase. “There are three bedrooms. I took the liberty of having your luggage placed in this one—” he opened the doors to a large, magnificent room with pale gold walls, polished wooden floors and a massive canopy bed of rich, dark mahogany “—but if you’d prefer one of the other—”
“No, this one is wonderful.” Callie floated across the room and opened the French doors that led onto a balcony that overlooked the sea. She sucked in her breath. If only this really were her honeymoon, she would think herself in heaven. She turned to Burke. He stood in the doorway, the width of the room separating them. “Your villa is…well, it’s fabulous.”
“Thank you.” Burke nodded toward a closed door to his left. “The bathroom is through there. Each bedroom has its own private bath. After you’ve freshened up and changed clothes, we can eat dinner.”
“If you’re hungry, please go ahead and have dinner without me.”
“I’ll wait,” he said. “You’ll find me in the study downstairs.”
“All right. Thank you.”
Burke closed the door behind him, leaving her alone. Callie whirled about the room and then collapsed on the antique bed. A canopy of gold satin met her uplifted gaze. Glancing across the room, she noticed what she felt certain was a priceless antique tapestry hanging on the wall. Although she’d never lived in squalor, being surrounded by such opulent luxury overwhelmed her. In the embassies around the world, she had been a visitor, but here she was the mistress, if only temporarily.
Cautioning herself not to allow Burke’s great wealth to seduce her, Callie jumped off the bed, straightened the satin spread and searched for her luggage. She found both suitcases stationed beside a nine-foot mahogany armoire decorated with intricate carvings. She lifted one suitcase onto the chaise longue by the windows, then opened it and began rummaging through the contents.
My God! The entire suitcase was filled with lingerie. Expensive, beautiful underwear and negligees. White and pale yellow. Soft pastels and rich jewel tones. She chose cream satin underwear, then stuffed the other contents into the case, set it on the floor and lifted its mate. She breathed a sigh of relief when she opened the second case and found it filled with usable clothing. After sorting through the items, she chose a pair of cinnamon-colored satin slacks and an oversize beige blouse. Designer clothes. The possessions of a rich man’s wife.
She could not allow herself to become accustomed to living this way. As soon as she and Seamus were no longer in danger from Simon, she would insist on ending this farce of a marriage. And then she’d take Seamus and go far away.
Your son is entitled to all the privileges that come with his father’s wealth, a nagging inner voice reminded her. But what price would her child have to pay for the trappings of wealth and privilege, when Burke had acquired his fortune partially through illegal means? And not just illegal, but immoral.
After putting on a Debussy CD and building a fire, Burke settled in front of the massive fireplace in the study. The first time he’d visited this lovely hillside villa, he had chosen this room as his favorite. The furnishings were antique—big, dark, heavy pieces that appealed to the old-fashioned part of his personality. A manly man’s room. Yet as elegant as any other room in the house. In this study he truly felt like the lord of the manor.
He was glad Callie approved of the villa. When choosing between this house and the apartment in Paris for their mock honeymoon, he’d decided that the villa offered more space. More room for them to avoid each other, if they chose to spend some of the next forty-eight hours apart. And if the confinement became unbearable, they could take the Porsche he kept in the garage and drive into the nearest village to do a little sight-seeing. Or they could drive along the coast and enjoy the scenery.
If this were truly his honeymoon, he would never leave the bedroom, except for necessary diversions. If Callie were indeed his bride, he would keep her occupied day and night making love to her. His sexual thoughts stimulated him, exciting him instantly. Thoughts of Callie, naked and aroused, filled his mind. Young and fresh and sweet. And somehow innocent, despite the fact that she wasn’t a virgin.
Would it be so wrong to take what pleasure they could from this marriage of necessity? They were consenting adults, sexually attracted to each other and well aware that their relationship would soon be terminated. He wasn’t a man who enjoyed staying celibate for long periods of time, although in the past two years, he had found himself more and more dissatisfied with meaningless affairs. But an affair with Callie wouldn’t be meaningless. And that was the crux of the situation.
Burke forced his thoughts from the delights of Callie’s body to the reality that she would most likely thwart any attempts he made at seduction. She believed him to be an evil man, someone she despised. Even though she wanted him—of that he had no doubts—she would fight the urge to succumb to her desire.
He heard her outside the study, the heels of her shoes clicking softly against the marble floors. Quickly he scanned the table by the windows that overlooked the sea, inspecting each item. He’d brought their dinner into the study, along with a bottle of Lambrusco, an Italian red wine. If nothing else, they could share a nice dinner and perhaps some civil conversation.
When Callie entered the study—an elegant room by anyone’s standards—she found Burke pouring wine. The strands of a Debussy melody encompassed her and relaxed her immediately. The shimmery warmth from a fire in the six-foot-high fireplace mesmerized her, beckoning her into the alluring trap. An aura of sensuality and seduction permeated the atmosphere. Her common sense warned her of danger, but her body and her heart led her deeper into the enticing setting.
“You look lovely,” he said, taking in every inch of her, from shoulder-length red curls, down over the silk blouse that hung loosely and yet still managed to cling provocatively to the tips of her breasts.
“Thank you.” She walked slowly across the room, making her way to the table. “But then this is a Marilyn Farris original and I suppose anyone would look lovely in her creations.”
When she neared him, Burke handed her a glass of wine. She accepted his offering and somehow managed not to shiver when their hands brushed against each other.
“I hope the things Marilyn packed for you are to your liking.”
“The items she chose would be to anyone’s liking.”
Burke held the chair for her. Glancing up and over her shoulder, she smiled at him. “Everything looks delicious. And the flowers!”
Callie spotted the bouquet of yellow roses that graced the center of the table. “You’re certainly an expert at setting a scene. No wonder you have a reputation as a ladies’ man.”
Burke sat across from her, then looked directly into her eyes. “This is the first time I’ve been damned for my expertise.”
“Was I damning you?” She sipped the wine.
“By everything you say and everything you do.”
“Then I must apologize. I realize that you’re simply trying to make the best of a bad situation. And given the circumstances, you’ve been very kind to me. You’ve put my safety and my son’s safety above everything else. And for that I am grateful.”
“But you still don’t trust me, do you, Callie?”
With nervous fingertips, she circled the rim of the glass, then set it aside. “You can’t begin to imagine how much I want to trust you.” I want you to be a decent, law-abiding man, her heart cried. My son deserves a father whom he can respect. “But I know about Simon, about your secret life…so how can I possibly trust you?”
“I don’t suppose, just for the duration of our stay here at the villa, you could forget that I have a secret life?” Burke reached across the table and took her hand in his. “We would be good together, my darling. I know it and you know it. Regardles
s of how you feel about my business dealings, you can’t deny that there is something powerful between us. Just wishing it didn’t exist won’t make it go away.”
She pulled her hand from his grasp, lifted a fork and speared the spinach in her salad. “I’m not foolish enough to deny that I’m attracted to you. I realize that I’m not very good at hiding my feelings. But despite the fact that I have a child and I’ve never been married, my sexual experience is limited. I’ve told you that my first lover was my fiancé. I was in a committed relationship with him. Or at least I was committed. And that’s what I want…what I need. I’m not the type of woman who wants to have casual sex.”
“What about Seamus’s father? You seem reluctant to talk about him. Were you in a committed relationship with him, too?”
“No. But that was my one exception. I allowed lust to… He and I were both in pain. We needed each other. What started out as comforting and caring turned into passion. And see how that turned out? I don’t want to repeat that kind of mistake.”
“Are you saying that you consider little Seamus a mistake?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.” Callie toyed with her salad, her appetite suddenly gone. “Seamus means more to me than anything. It’s just that I wish I’d been married when he was born and that he had a father to be there for him as he’s growing up.”
“When our arrangement ends, I’ll help you find Seamus’s father, if you want me to. I think the man has a right to know he fathered a child.”
“I don’t need your help, Burke. I know where to find Seamus’s father. I’ve always known. But the man…he isn’t someone I want to be involved in my child’s life, certainly not as his father.”
“You’re very judgmental. You don’t trust me. You won’t give me the benefit of the doubt. And now you tell me that Seamus’s father isn’t worthy of knowing the truth—that he has a son.”
“This isn’t any of your business,” she lied.
God, how had the conversation drifted from their sexual attraction to a discussion of Seamus’s father? Sooner or later, Burke is going to find out, an inner voice warned her. How can you stay married to this man, even for a few weeks, and keep him and Seamus apart?
Her Secret Weapon Page 13
