by Addison Fox
The packing done, he dragged on the last zipper and heaved the suitcase off his bed. It was time to go eat a rather large plate of crow.
He walked into the main living room and heard the pop of the toaster and smelled the coffee as he settled his suitcase by the door. “That smells good.”
“I hope you don’t mind.” Isabella shrugged from behind the large island that dominated his kitchen. “I’m not one to skip meals.”
“Of course I don’t mind. I’m glad you found something.”
The stilted conversation stuck in his throat and he walked to the single-brew coffee machine and set up an extra dark roast he hoped would do something for his mood.
“What happens once we get back to New York?”
Her words were quiet but there was no mistaking the apprehension laced underneath. That fact was even more evident as Liam turned toward her and caught sight of her shaking hand as she buttered her toast.
“We’ll protect you.”
“It’s not that simple. Whoever’s behind this has proven how stealthy they are. Do you have the resources to go up against someone with black ops training? Special forces training?”
The immediate reaction had him cocking his head. “You think a government’s behind this.”
“It’s a very real possibility.”
“What about the possibility it’s someone closer to you? The threats and intrusions have been very personal in nature.”
“Not possible.”
“Why not? To your point, someone in special ops knows how to take out a target.” The words were out before he could snatch them back and Liam knew how insensitive he sounded. Although it was another point in the “Liam’s a bastard” column, he refused to mince words with her.
He and his siblings had decided long ago that they wouldn’t keep clients ignorant of the danger that surrounded them. It was at best unfair and at worst, perilous to keep them in the dark.
“You’re saying if I were their intended target, I’d have been dealt with by now.”
“Yes.”
“It’s still not someone I know.”
“Why won’t you consider that possibility?”
She laid down the knife, her eyes wide. “I don’t have anyone in my life, friend or enemy. There’s no one who can hurt me.”
With precise movements she began wrapping the cord around the toaster and cleaning crumbs off the counter. Liam wanted to say something else—anything else—but he held back. He’d already been insensitive enough. What else could he say?
He moved into the living room and made a show of puttering with his suitcase and checking his bags. The sooner they got on their way, the better. When he heard the final sounds of the toaster being put away and running water in the sink he walked back in. “I have a service. You can leave those.”
“It’s just a few dishes.”
He’d have argued but she was already halfway through washing and had the plate and cup put up in minutes. The small motions fascinated him and he was forced to admit the women he usually brought here were all too happy to leave a mess behind, allowing someone else to take care of it.
Hell, he was all too content to leave a mess behind, paying someone to handle it.
And you’re getting weird over a plate and a cup, Steele.
Isabella grabbed her suitcase and headed for the door, the faintest smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Ready when you are.”
The ride to the lobby was quiet, the early morning hour ensuring very few were up and about. His doorman wasn’t at his post, which struck the back of his thoughts mere moments before the sight of a stranger sitting on one of the leather couches in the lobby caught his attention.
Where was Henri? And why was there someone in the lobby without supervision?
Isabella was still behind him, not yet visible until she stepped through the elevator. “Are we hailing a—”
Without thinking through the implications, he dragged Isabella into his arms and back toward the elevator doors. The car they were in had already closed and he stabbed the button with his free hand while pulling her close with the other.
“I’m thinking we can be late, darling.” His words echoed through the lobby, loud enough for anyone in earshot.
Without giving Isabella a chance to respond, he pressed his mouth to hers and prayed like hell the guy hadn’t seen her face.
Chapter 4
Her mind finally caught up with her actions and Isabella came to the abrupt realization she was kissing Liam Steele. Kissing him!
Her lips opened on an “O” of surprise and he simply used the gesture as an opportunity to slide his tongue fully against hers.
It was madness.
It was bliss.
The subtle ping of the elevator door went off behind her and she abstractly felt herself being walked backward into a waiting car. Rationally, her mind knew what was happening but she couldn’t seem to hold on to a single thought as insistent bursts of need buffeted her like winds battering a ship at high sea.
On some odd dimension of her brain, her scientific mind registered what was happening. The accelerated heart rate that slammed into her chest. The tightening of her skin, resulting in aching nipples. The rush of liquid heat at her core.
But the woman who’d been denied those reactions for far too long felt something entirely different.
The hard flex of his muscles where her hands lay over his shoulders. The tension of his tongue thrusting between her lips in an erotic dance that had stars exploding before her closed eyes. And the warm, rich scent that filled her senses with an earthy heat she couldn’t quite define. Cedar? Tobacco? Fresh grass?
Nothing fit, even as she catalogued each of those earthy scents before discarding them.
He was Liam and the power she’d sensed in him was nothing compared to the experience of having him pressed against every inch of her body.
That tantalizing scent continued to swirl around her senses before she was jerked from the moment—
“I’m sorry.”
Sorry? “What?”
Her stomach curdled as if filled with sour milk as he put distance between the two of them, moving to the far side of the elevator car.
“I don’t know why my doorman isn’t at his post and I didn’t like the look of the man in the lobby.”
“You think—” she broke off, not trusting herself to speak. That pervasive sense of danger returned—blessedly absent for those few brief moments in his arms—and along with it, she now had the embarrassment of extreme naïveté. “You think it’s the same threat from the hotel.”
“We can’t rule it out.” The elevators swung open on his floor and Liam stepped through the door, his outstretched hand keeping her in place in the elevator. She waited as he did a sweep of the hall, then saw his head nod. “Come on.”
She followed him, her suitcase heavy against her hand, as they retraced their steps to his apartment.
A ruse.
The kiss was nothing but a ruse to fool this mystery man in the lobby that set Liam’s antennae off. Empirically she knew her reaction was not only silly but immature, but the lingering feel of Liam’s lips on hers was a haunting reminder of things she hadn’t felt in far too long.
Or ever, her conscience taunted.
Pushing it down, she walked past him into his apartment.
He was protecting her and obviously thought a kiss was the most expedient way to keep her hidden from a threat. That thought was only punctuated when he began barking out orders from his cell phone.
“Henri? Where were you?”
Isabella only caught Liam’s side of the conversation but it wasn’t hard to piece together what had happened. The man had obviously been summoned by a call and felt he could take it at such an early
hour. No one had been in the lobby when he left his post, nor had anyone been there when he returned.
“Damn it.” Liam muttered the curse and looked up from his phone. “Henri didn’t see him.”
“What did he look like?”
“Someone who didn’t belong.” Liam’s words were swift before his fingers flew once more over his phone. He was equally direct with whomever answered. “It’s me. What did you find?”
Isabella walked toward the windows that rimmed the far side of the room. Once again, Liam snarled out a series of orders and questions, varying them up based on whatever response he received.
As she stared out over the London skyline, Isabella knew she was in capable hands. Liam Steele had taken on full responsibility for her safety and security.
So why did that thought leave her feeling so bleak?
* * *
Liam allowed his gaze to travel over Isabella’s taut form, silhouetted against the light from the window, before forcing himself to focus on his brother’s words.
“I can say it again and I can say it louder, but it’s not going to change the results, Liam. I found nothing on the hotel video feed that suggested someone went in or out of her room yesterday.”
“And you don’t think it was tampered with?”
“Not that I could tell.”
“Check again.”
“Damn it. I checked it twice and so did T-Bone. There’s nothing there.” Campbell spit out a few more expletives and Liam knew his pushing was only exacerbating an already tense situation.
“Do you believe she’s right about this?” Campbell softened his words. “I get she’s a scientist and precise and all that, but we’re talking about a few millimeters of space on a suitcase. Hell, she could have kicked it with her foot and moved it. Or the curtain could have been bunched up and it fell down.”
“That’s not it.”
He believed Isabella. Recognized something in her prescriptive attention to details.
And just when had he gotten so fanciful?
Liam knew his brother had a point. He also knew Campbell and the computer expert he kept on his team, T-Bone, knew what they were doing.
“Fine. We’ll keep digging. What has you upset now? You said something about a problem this morning.”
“I need you to check the video feed in my lobby. My doorman left his post and never saw a man come in and out of the lobby, but the guy was there when Isabella and I got off the elevator. I don’t like it.”
Campbell made quick work of the request, the cameras in all of their buildings already connected to his security feeds. Liam knew it wasn’t a common luxury afforded to all residents of his building, but when he’d demanded the additional access—and sweetened the deal with an incremental payment—the building’s ownership had been surprisingly willing to negotiate.
Add on the reduced surveillance services the House of Steele had readily negotiated for said building owners and they had a rather nice arrangement going.
“Nothing on the feed.”
“No one in the lobby at all?”
“I see the doorman take a call and leave his post. I see the lobby sit empty for a while and then I see him come back.”
“And no one’s there? Nor did you see me get out of the elevator.”
“Nope.”
“Then we have an even bigger problem than I thought.”
Another string of expletives echoed through the phone. “Bugger got through my security. I’ve got that feed programmed to alert me to any tampering.”
“And nothing popped?”
“No.”
Liam heard the frustration more clearly in his brother’s voice on that single word than all the ranting and cursing that had come before. “I’m calling for an escort to the airport and delaying our flight until tomorrow morning. Brief Kenzi and Jack on what’s going on and we’ll game-plan when I get in.”
“Be careful, Liam. Whoever’s behind this? This guy knows way more than he should.”
“Got it.”
He disconnected with his brother and for the first time had to question what was really going on. He’d faced tough jobs before—they all had—but this was on a different level.
And he couldn’t shake the fact that whoever was after Isabella knew the House of Steele was going to help her.
“I’m sorry about before.”
She turned away from the window, her hands still fluttering in the silky material of her blouse where it hung around her waist. He wasn’t sure why that constant worrying of her fingers had him intrigued, but it did. The subtle proof she was human touched him way more than it probably should.
“I take it your brother didn’t find anything.”
“Not yet.”
“And I take it he also doesn’t believe me when I say someone was in my room last night.”
Liam cycled through the conversation in his mind. He’d been more than careful to keep any indication from his side of the conversation that Isabella might have been wrong yet she’d sensed it anyway. “Campbell just likes to be sure. Especially when he can’t find a technological answer to the problem.”
“And I take it the lobby visitor wasn’t visible on your building’s cameras?”
“Right again.”
Her face fell at the news, whatever lingering hope that had shimmered in the depths of her green gaze fading. He could still taste her on his lips, the subtle flavor of her coffee a shocking aphrodisiac. The urge to give comfort had him crossing to her, determined to offer reassurance.
“Then I shouldn’t be putting you in danger. Or taking up even more of your time with a full day of delay.” Her subtle feint to the left ensured she maintained a physical distance between the two of them and he stilled, surprised by the stiff set of her shoulders.
Where was the responsive woman who’d clung to him, fully engaged and kissing him back?
And why did the sudden urge to drag her back into his arms pulse through him with the heavy throb of a line of bass drums?
Their eyes met and that bass throb amped up another level, pushing him to take some action. To reach out once more and touch her, just to see if she was as soft as he remembered. To see if her lips were as enticing...
Liam shook off the thought and took a few steps back.
Isabella Magnini was a job, nothing more. He’d take care of her and see his responsibilities through and move on. It was what he did and it was how he lived his life. He’d built a structured, orderly world around himself that he controlled.
And he’d be damned if a frightened woman who’d discovered the potential to unleash hell changed any of that.
* * *
Isabella stayed where she’d been told and watched Liam through the sliding doors of one of Heathrow Airport’s many concourses. As he’d confirmed with his brother, he’d made good on his plan of hiring an armed escort to take them to the airport and was now thanking the man for his services.
The exchange was brief but it gave her the opportunity to observe him in action. The late morning rain coated the air a misty gray yet he stood out against it, as bright and vibrant as the sun.
The long, trim lines of his body captivated her, but it was something beyond the physical—something far more ephemeral—that drew her in as she traced his form with her eyes.
Competence shone from him in the simplest of actions. His quick handshake with their guard. The flash of his hand as he snagged his rolling suitcase. Even the quick flick of his wrist as he brushed drops of rain from his hair.
All of it bespoke of a man comfortable with himself and his surroundings, secure in who he was.
Was that what made leaders? No, she quickly amended, that’s what made conquerors.
The idea took root and she let it simmer as Liam walked
closer, evaluating him through that new lens. Their elevator kiss the day before had certainly reinforced the notion and the events since—the quick, competent change in plans, the work with his brother back at headquarters, even the possessive order to stand inside the doors and wait for him when they’d arrived at the airport.
Here was a man used to giving orders he expected would be followed.
So why was she letting the simple fact that their elevator kiss meant nothing to him chafe at her like sandpaper on skin?
The thought had kept up a steady tattoo in her brain for the better part of the last day, even in the face of the very real—and shockingly present—danger she was in. Even worse, she’d spent a near-sleepless night focused on that while he looked fit and ready to conquer the day.
“Ready?”
She nodded and knew full well his question was meant to indicate their walk to security, so why did she feel something more? Something deeper at the question?
Was she ready?
She’d hidden from life for so long—had willingly buried herself in work and nothing else—that she’d missed out on so much. Her twenties, certainly, and if she kept it up her thirties would end up a blur as well. A blur of lab notes and beakers, computer analyses and charts and graphs that might calculate any number of things but couldn’t assuage how lonely she was.
She was ready for something more and now that the life she hadn’t put much stock in was in danger, she knew that more keenly than ever.
Liam took her suitcase in his free hand and gestured her forward with a tilt of the head. “We’ll wait in the captain’s lounge after we check in.”
She reached for the handle but he was already out of range and she took a few quick steps to catch up, her heels clicking on the tile. “What difference does it make once we pass through security?”
“I don’t want you out in the open.”
She knew the lounge he spoke of—it was a premium environment for premium fliers—but she’d never been there. “Isn’t that the whole point of going through security?”
He stopped and turned, the blue of his gaze penetrating as he waited for her to catch up. If she wasn’t mistaken—and her ability to read social cues meant her chances were only about fifty-fifty on being right—he looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I don’t like to fly. The quiet of the lounge helps me calm down before a flight.”
