by Sun Chara
“You horrible man.” She punched the pillow with her fist and the motion made the blanket slide, exposing her breasts. Instantly, she yanked it back, a flush suffusing her features, and bit her lip.
A hiss of sound from his side of the room, then, “—and warming my bed.”
“Oh, you—” She squeezed the pillow in her hands and took aim.
He laughed, but the sound held no amusement. “Think you can handle that?”
She hurled the pillow at him, but by then he’d slipped out the door, and it landed on the wooden planks, plopping to the floor.
A deafening silence followed his exit, then his chuckle filtered back to her, stoking her indignation and prompting her to action.
Muttering a string of unsavory adjectives, Nina pounded her hands and feet upon the mattress, venting her anger.
Five seconds flat.
The rhythm of her breathing vibrated around her. She flicked her hair from her eyes, tossed the blankets aside and leaped from the bed. In her agitation, she didn’t even feel the cool air smacking her nude body, and marched to the makeshift closet, rifling through her suitcase. She threw on a pair of jeans, a loose fitting blouse and slipped her feet into sandals.
She stepped to the kitchen shelf, grabbed a rubber band from the dish, and fastened her hair in a ponytail. A glance at her clothes strewn on the floor and the mussed bed, and her pulse skittered. She debated, and then turned away—she’d tidy up later.
She had to get to him before Cade and his thugs.
Snatching her purse off the floor, then her hat, she stole out of the door and clicked it shut behind her. Dawn was just breaking, and scents of jasmine laced the air. A deep breath, a burst of sound from her mouth, and she took off at a run.
“Track her.” Grim-faced, Cade stepped from the shadows, signaled his security and sprinted for the chopper. “I want a report on her every move, action, step.”
******
Nina pounded on the kafeneon’s door, her heart lodging in her throat every time she heard a sound. Sleepy-eyed, her father cracked the door open and a woman’s voice filtered through. “Who is it?”
Nina gaped. “You’re kidding?”
“Got in a couple of hours ago.” Sheepishly, her father grinned and offered a quick explanation. He started to say something further, stopped and motioned her inside.
Nina shook her head. Not wanting to intrude on their reunion, she rose on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Say hi to mom.” On high alert, she backed away. “I’ll see you guys later.”
But would she? she thought, dashing into the shadows after he closed the door.
She squatted on a brick wall, beneath a gnarled olive tree and kept sentry. A grin curved her mouth. After all these years, her mother now finally knew that it wasn’t another woman who had taken her husband from her. Determined to stand by her man, she had come to Cyprus to be with him. She could no longer allow him to go through the persecution alone.
Birds chirped at the dawning of a new day.
Nina rubbed her arms to ward off the early morning chill, as joy zipped through her.
She yawned, and her eyelids drooped. Fighting to stay awake, she pinched her cheeks and bounced off the wall, the gravel crunching beneath her sandals. A pebble slid inside her shoe. She shook her foot, dislodged the irritant, and wished she could do the same with the man she’d gotten embroiled with.
She sighed and paced, maintaining her vigil. After a couple of hours dragged by, and no one had come for her father, Nina circled back through the market on her way to the hovel she shared with Cade.
She knew a face-off with him was imminent.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“You lost her?” Cade was ready to burst a blood vessel, what with high tech tracking devices at their disposal. “Aerial surveillance spies she’s still in the vicinity.”
A text message dinged his cell phone.
“Find her,” he snarled into the transmitter, signaling the pilot to circle back. “I want a full report.”
He skimmed the text message and frowned. He’d received a text from his uncle: You’re off course, target closer to home. He keyed in his uncle’s Limassol office to trace the memo—he’d flown to London. A blast of frustration formed in his chest. Something was going down, and he had to find out what it was.
The chopper landed, and Cade vaulted out, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. He inhaled, filling his lungs with pine- scented air. A whiff of citrus blossom…and cooking.
His stomach rumbled. He jogged to the shack, burst through the door and skidded to a halt.
“Hello darling.” Nina waved a spatula at him and cracked two eggs in the pan sizzling with olive oil. “Over easy?” She flipped them and smacked them with the spatula, imagining it to be his back.
“Yeah, over easy works.” He marched across the room, threw a file on the table and set his laptop beside it.
Nina sensed his foul mood, and turning to more pleasant thoughts, suppressed a giggle tickling her throat.
Who’d have imagined her parents reconnecting after all these years? Then she sobered. Someone had set him up.
She glanced at Cade flicking through the file on the table, and blew a wayward wisp off her brow.
Mere hours ago, her father hinted his long time associate was about to expose the perpetrator; but before he could tell her more, a car motor revved, and she’d sprinted for the shadows.
Nina placed two bread slices in the toaster and opened the icebox.
He’d ‘abandoned’ them to protect them from the backlash, and weathered the blackmail alone; still sheltering them from the onslaught massing on the horizon.
She forked bacon slices from the package, shouldered the icebox shut and dropped them in the pan. Oil sputtered, and she took a step back. She scooped the eggs onto a plate and gave her husband a veiled glance.
Could Cade be behind her father’s persecution? An ache throbbed inside her, and she gripped the counter, bracing against the possibility. Air left her lungs. She flipped the bacon, and her lip quivered.
After she’d left the kafeneon near dawn, she slipped by Cade’s men milling near the marketplace, and hurried ‘home’…thinking of him.
Her father.
A wanted man.
Who she could set free and right the past, but if she could only get Cade to listen. Listen to her. She had to find a way. Even if it meant—
Her pulse skittered, and her chest tightened. Could she risk her heart?
Wouldn’t that be replacing one casualty for another—her? She crunched down the jitters. She had to do it. Her father’s freedom and her mother’s happiness depended on her taking that risk.
“Bacon crisp?”
She fought back the sting of tears. They’d already lost twelve years all because of—
“Crisp will do,” Cade muttered, without so much as a glance her way.
She blinked, refocused on the task at hand and forced a smile on her face. “How was your day, dear?”
His scowl darkened. “Maybe I should ask you the same thing, mmm?”
“Ask away.” She shrugged, her tone flippant, thus aggravating him more. Served him right, after what he’d put her through. And she wasn’t done yet. “But I already know what that’s about.”
Suspicion tinted his eyes. “You do?”
“You’re disappointed.” She transferred the bacon onto the plate of eggs, placed the pan in the sink and flicked the kettle on. “The eggs are from the fridge not the co-op, the bacon from the market not the butcher’s slab and the juice from the can not the orange tree.”
“Where’ve you been?” He bridged the gap in two strides and stood behind her, his breath ruffling the curls at her nape.
Prickles rose on her skin, her hands went moist, and she wanted to lean back into him, his muscled chest, to rest, to—
The toast popped up. She snatched the slices from the toaster and slapped them on the plate. “And the bread’s from the bakery not—”
“And why’s that?”
“No time to bake this morning.”
“Because?”
She swung past him, placed the plate on the table, rerouted for the demitasse, swerved by him and set it on the table with the orange juice. “I went shopping.”
“For?”
“Whatever do you mean?” She sucked in a breath, her heart thudding. He stepped up, wedging her against the table, his thighs brushing her buttocks and sending shimmers of sensation through her. Her hand glided across the table, and a spoon clattered to the floor. She started.
“Nervous?”
“No-o.” She wiggled for breathing room, but it only caused friction between them.
“Honey, you keep doing that, and we’ll land right here on the floor—”
She bent down for the spoon, and her tush smacked into his groin.
He sucked in a blizzard of air.
A sweet jab of sensation pierced her to the core.
She seized the utensil and bolted upright so fast, her head cracked his chin.
“Ouch,” he grumbled, and she skipped away from him.
He paced her every move.
She dropped the spoon in the sink, swallowed and wiped her palms on the front of her jeans.
“Ketchup?” She reached for a bottle from the cupboard and her shirt rode up.
He stepped up.
“Very nice.” He slid his hands around her bare midriff, nuzzling her neck, sparking fine hair at her nape.
“I-I thought it’d add zing to your breakfast.”
He chuckled, his breath a fizz of fever on her skin. Sizzle shot into her, and her head lolled back onto his shoulder. Just for a heartbeat, she stayed there; his heat, his touch stirred her senses, and a sigh feathered from her mouth. Just for a second, she imagined … but abruptly she twisted to push him away and fell into his gaze.
Cade lowered his head, and his lips melded with hers … tender, moist, sweet sensation charged into her. She curved into his embrace. He tightened his arms around her, jamming her hard against him, his erection pressing into her. Her stomach dipped. She sucked in a breath from his mouth, her nipples skimming his chest. He slid his tongue into her mouth, withdrew slightly, then penetrated further… the motion reflecting the rhythm of his hips against hers.
Lost in the sensual promise of that kiss, Nina moaned; her heart beating a frenzied tempo to the erotic waltz in her mouth. A guttural sound vibrated from deep in his throat. He bunched her hair in his hands, held her head steady and ravished her mouth.
The shrill whistle of the kettle—a douche of ice water—and she stilled in his arms. “Y-your breakfast’s getting cold.”
“And we’re anything but, baby doll,” he murmured, his words a breath of sound against her lips. Curving an arm around her, he turned off the stove. “We’re about to combust in a blaze, right here, right now.”
He cupped her breast with one hand and her buttocks with the other, pulling her hard against his aroused strength. A flick of his thumb across her nipple, and a whimper of pleasure echoed deep in her throat. He dipped his head, suckling the orb in his mouth, fabric and all.
She gasped, and her head flopped onto his shoulder. On the brink of surrender, a shudder frisked through her and—
The Greek coffee boiled over and splattered on the stove.
“Your coffee’s ready.” She pushed against him, but her hands felt limp and powerless.
“And so are we.” He lifted his head, his mouth a feather breadth from hers, his ragged breath singeing her lips. “Primed and ready.”
The inferno ignited into a blaze.
She leaned into him, unable to stop, wanting him to—
A knock on the door.
A rooster crowed.
She turned in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, and siphoned a mouthful of air. He tightened his arms about her, his breath like a typhoon in her ear. A million jabs of sensation zapped into her, and she almost cried. She bashed down the whimper ebbing in her throat and tore away from his embrace, the emotional aftershocks pulsing through her.
“You better wash up…coffee…your breakfast,” she broke off realizing she was rambling. “My tea.”
The banging on the door grew louder.
Cade uttered a blue streak beneath his breath, stalked to the door and nearly wrenched it off its hinges.
Like an automaton, Nina staggered to the stove, turned off the burner and gripped the coffee pot. A whiff of the strong brew—a wake-up call. She managed to walk back to the table on boneless legs and poured the coffee in his cup, spilling only a drop or two.
A murmured exchange from the doorway, with ‘report’ being the only decipherable word drifting to her.
An ominous silence.
Cade shut the door and turned, his features chiseled granite, his eyes stone cold.
A tremor ripped through her. What did he know?
Cade bridged the distance between them in two strides and slapped a folder on the table. Taciturn, he marched to the sink, poured water from the jug into his palm, his grip on the ceramic handle iron-hard.
Why hadn’t she told him? He batted hair off his brow with an impatient hand, water spraying the air. The caveman tactics hadn’t worked. Instead of opening up to him, she had clammed up.
Only her body spoke to him. It was in rhythm with his, conducting symphony of their senses.
It was proof that she wasn’t averse to his touch. The sensual interlude they shared moments ago had his blood pulsing hot through his veins and sent his heart rate into high gear. He snatched a towel from the rack, dried his hands, hurled it on the countertop and strode back to her.
She stood immobilized, her eyes wide … vulnerable pools of emotion, uncertain yet alert. She glanced at the door over his shoulder, seeming to gauge the distance.
“Uh, uh.” He tapped the folder, inclined his head for her to sit down, and wondered why he didn’t let her run out with a ‘hasta la vista, babe’ as had been his original intent. A shifting inside him, and a stab in his heart gave him pause, but he savagely resisted the pull of the sentiment.
“Better hurry and grab a bite,” he said, his words harsh, almost cruel. “We’ve a long trip ahead of us.”
Her head snapped up. “We’re leaving?”
He hooked a chair with his boot, scraped it back and straddled it.
“London.” The hacker had created a maze from New York to Cyprus to London. How Florence, Italy fitted into his scheme Cade wasn’t sure yet, but he’d find out. He had to…because of her.
He sent a covert glance her way. Had he connected all the dots? The hacker was about to cyber-launder the funds via key global financial institutions to cover his tracks. Unless they compromised his plan in
a sting operation, he’d jet off to parts unknown again.
“You go.” She pushed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and the fabric of her shirt stretched taut across her breasts.
He eclipsed the growl deep in his chest with his fist.
“I don’t have to go.” She tossed her head in defiance.
“Oh, but you do.”
“Why?”
“Overdue honeymoon.” His eyes held hers for an endless beat, and then his mouth tilted in a provocative grin. He picked up a piece of toast and bit into it with gusto. “Eat up, it’s a long trip.”
“I’ve lost my appetite.” She marched past him, but he shot an arm out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her onto his lap.
“Well, I haven’t.” A wicked lift to his brow.
“For what?” She leaped to her feet, putting distance between them.
“Your services.” He tore off another piece of toast with his teeth, took a gulp of coffee and held the cup out to her.
She grabbed the pot from the table and poured the last of the brew in his cup. “Will that be all, your royal jerkins?”
“No.” He pierced a piece of egg, placed it in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “I’ve been up all night” –he swis
hed a finger around his shirt collar— “run my bath will you, honey.”
She shook her head, befuddled. “There’s no bathtub here, the outside shower—”
“Quite right.” He punctured a slab of bacon, popped it in his mouth and chomped, swallowed. “You can wash my back then.”
“Huh!” She stamped to the stove, slammed the lid on the pan in the sink, tossed in the cutlery and closed her fingers over the towel he’d left on the counter.
“A massage prior to—” He rolled his shoulders and palmed his nape. “Hey!” He ducked in the nick of time, the missile whizzing over his head and smacking the wall.
A glint in his eye, then he shrugged, which stoked her ire.
“Perhaps you’re right.” He stuffed another forkful of food in his mouth, chomped and gulped down the coffee. “No time.” He blotted his mouth with the napkin. “You’ll administer the magic of your touch when we get to London.”
CHAPTER NINE
“Take a memo Ms…er…Mrs. Sloan.” Cade lounged on the plush sofa of their penthouse at the Park Lane Hotel in Mayfair, nursing a drink in his hands.
“What?” Nina swung around from viewing London lights reflected on the Thames River in the distance. Big Ben struck the ninth hour, and soon it’d be bedtime …she swayed…with her espoused enemy. She rubbed goose bumps from her arms, not sure whether the reaction was caused by alarm or anticipation.
“After tonight, you’ll make strides in reducing the principal and interest on the note.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, scoring her throat, and for a moment remained speechless, trying to wrap her mind around the implication of his words.
“Be thankful, rates are low.” He took a swig of the drink and smacked his lips. “Or annual interest accrued be astronomical.”
“You’re despicable.”
“Go change,” he snarled. “Dinner a deux on the terrace.”
“I’m not hungry.” She didn’t move.
He raised the glass to his mouth, glanced at the dining table over the rim, then at her, his meaning unmistakable. “Room service then?” Setting the tumbler down on the sidebar, he hauled himself from the sofa, and rapped his knuckles on the glossy tabletop. “Sturdy.”
