Code Name: Fiancée

by Susan Vaughan

Vanessa peered up at a gently rotating, bright blue Calder mobile. “I love how those things move. Mom always has a couple of small mobiles and some wind chimes. Seeing this one reminds me of home.”

  “Your parents have room for this one in their yard?”

  She laughed. “Only if we demolish the Palmeiris’ house.”

  That he was enjoying a little humor with her lit a glow in her chest, but a tiny voice inside her head doused the nascent flame. It warned her not to lose her professional edge, not to become involved. Her throat tightened with anxiety.

  She couldn’t let immersion in her role jeopardize the mission. Stopping New Dawn was too important.

  Important to Nick, too.

  He was squinting into the sun as he puzzled out a tubular shape labeled Dome.

  How long since she’d scanned around them? Had she missed anything? No. Their ATSA tails were still with them. No one else around them but lovers and vacationing families.

  She sighed in relief and put a hand to her throat.

  Her eyes popped wide, and she straightened. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She pulled the gold chain from beneath her sweater, unfastened the clasp and extended the pendant to him. “Thanks for letting me wear this last night. I did feel glamorous. Until I landed on my butt.” She gave a nervous laugh.

  He hesitated, but took the necklace. “You were indeed glamorous. And courageous. Your fast reaction saved both Laura and you from serious injury.”

  Heat rose to her cheeks. “Thanks. I was just doing—”

  “Your job. Yes, I know.” He took her hand and headed to another part of the garden. “You’re an enigma to me. How can a beautiful and sophisticated woman like you doubt your own appeal? Just because some clueless guy once—”

  “Not just one guy. Not just once.” Damn her redhead’s complexion that broadcast her every reaction. “But thanks for the compliment.”

  “Are you sure you weren’t overly sensitive?”

  A small boy ran by, holding aloft a toy airplane that he’d probably just bought at the Air and Space Museum. He made buzzing and whirring noises. Like the whirring in her stomach.

  “You really want to know?” She laughed self-consciously.

  “I’m hoping I can acquit my sex.”

  Her gaze lofted to his. “Not all of your sex are as concerned with honor as you. But okay, my embarrassing secrets are yours.”

  She could almost see his chest swell. Sharing a secret meant a measure of trust. Maybe he’d trust her with his.

  They continued to amble around the garden, stopping to read the placards for the most interesting pieces.

  “It started in junior high. Boys I’d been friends with all through elementary school would drop by to shoot a few hoops. Before we could finish a game of horse, I was benched and they were wowing Diana with jump shots.”

  “Rough. Especially for the big sister.” His big fingers played with curls at her temple, sending shivers across her scalp. “A tomboy should have an advantage. Knowing about guys. How they think.”

  She shrugged. If only she did know how guys thought. “Maybe. Most tomboys don’t have a drop-dead-gorgeous sister.”

  His expression turned wistful. “Our situations were different, but I felt shunted aside, too, in favor of Alexei.”

  She could picture the serious boy, hurt by indifference, working harder to get his father’s attention. The gentleness of his touch and the sadness in his eyes filled her with longing. “Alexei the charmer and Nicolas the serious one.”

  “Exactly.” He tucked her hair behind her ear and took her hand. They ambled on to the next exhibit. “But we were talking about you. Teenaged boys can be thoughtless and single-minded. At puberty their brains slide below their belts.”

  She gave him the sweet smile and wide-eyed Kewpie-doll expression learned from Diana’s model friends. “Is that a nice way of saying their heads are up their asses?”

  Nick blinked, as if he couldn’t believe his ears. His mouth twitched. His eyes crinkled. Then he laughed, a great belly laugh, and slung one arm around her shoulders. “Honey, I think that says it all.”

  They sat on a bench beneath one of the building’s large pillars and watched the fountain geyser up like Old Faithful. Held in the shelter of his embrace, she felt protected and cherished. She could stay like that forever.

  But all she had was this moment. A bittersweet ache coiled through her.

  She wasn’t his real fiancée. Remember that, you ninny. But here in public, where he was supposed to act as if she were, reality was hard to hold on to.

  Way past losing detachment, she was in danger of falling in love with an impossible man. She meant to respond to his laugh with a flippant remark, but she was fresh out.

  Nick ruffled her hair and kissed her temple. “Teenaged boys are their own species. Fast forward to men. Tell me they have more sense.”

  She sighed, reluctant to lose the intimacy of the moment. “You tell me. How about Richard? We dated for three weeks in college until I introduced him to Diana. Then I was history.”

  His brows came together in that thoughtful pleat she was coming to know. “And how did Diana handle this?”

  She tried to ignore the twinge of jealousy his question aroused. “Diana’s not the problem. My sister and I understand each other. She always saw through those not-too-subtle ploys and cut those guys off at the knees. She had her own problems with guys treating her like a doll.” Vanessa wouldn’t mention that Diana always had ten other guys waiting in the wings.

  “Just because you have a cover-girl sister doesn’t make you the perpetual best buddy. Some of us appreciate cute and freckles that look good enough to taste.”

  “Thanks, Nick. That’s very sweet.”

  She could give him a list, but she’d said enough. The guys she worked with treated her like a pal. She encouraged it since that was better than the harassment some female operatives experienced.

  Someday a man like Nick would fall in love with her for herself, not as a means to her gorgeous sister and not as her undercover persona. But not Nick. Never Nick. Merely thinking the words produced a sharp spasm in her heart.

  His heated gaze cruised all her assets and curled her toes. He pulled her to her feet, and they continued walking.

  She didn’t know quite why she’d confessed all her insecurities, but blithering on kept her from hauling him close for a mind-bending kiss—what she really wanted to do. Every nerve ending she possessed sparked with awareness.

  No, no and no, she berated herself. He was engaged, and she shouldn’t trust him that way even if she didn’t believe he’d betray ATSA’s setup. Detachment, detachment.

  Nick pointed toward a tarpaulin-covered shape in the plaza. They’d completed the circuit of the garden surrounding the massive circular museum and were returning toward Jefferson Drive. “A new addition to the collection.”

  Grateful for the change of topic, she hurried toward the indistinct lump. “Ah, this must be the pedestal for the sculpture donated by the new Yamari government.”

  “Yamar again. They’re everywhere.” That pinch between his raven brows was back.

  “Laura mentioned this sculpture last night. A Yamari artist created it to commemorate Washington’s assistance with their transition to democracy. There’s an unveiling ceremony soon, I think.”

  “Bully for them. I wish they’d unveil Husam Al-Din instead.” His scowl darker than the shadows beneath the Hirshhorn’s pillars, he shot his cuff and looked at his watch. “I’ve seen enough. Snow’ll be waiting for us.”

  Vanessa tucked her arm in his as they crossed 7th Street. “Now don’t go all stormy on me again. We were having fun. You can’t deny it. If I’m Ms. Optimist, you’re Mr. Grim.”

  “If only this were a fairy tale.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips. His breath across her hand ribboned warmth inside her. “You’ve lifted my spirits with your kindness and that sexy dress, and I’m grateful. But—”

  The screech of tires not
far behind them alerted Vanessa. She stopped, turned.

  Nick spun on his heels. He tucked Vanessa behind him.

  A green sedan pulled to the corner, the window open.

  “Down. Now.” Vanessa yanked hard on his sleeve.

  Together they dove to the ground. Nick rolled over to shield her with his body.

  Three loud pops shattered the tranquil afternoon.

  The sedan pulled away.

  Another squeal of tires and the ATSA car roared up in pursuit of the attackers.

  Vanessa lay flat, half on the sidewalk and half on the adjacent grass, sheltered by Nick’s big body. Had he been hit protecting her? Fear clutched her heart. She pressed a hand to his chest. His heart raced as fast as hers. “You all right?”

  “Fine. You?” His voice sounded mechanical, automatic. Special Forces soldier mode.

  She pushed against him to free herself. She needed to see what was going on. An immovable cage held her fast.

  “Wait,” he commanded.

  Pounding feet raced to surround Nick and Vanessa—their ATSA protection.

  A little late.

  Nick sprang to his feet and helped her up.

  A scattered circle of pedestrians gaped at them.

  “False alarm, folks,” said one of the officers, shooing them away. “Just a backfire. Everything’s all right.”

  Farther down the street, the sedan ducked down a side street. The ATSA car sped along in pursuit.

  “Did you get their license?” Vanessa demanded. She clicked on her microphone.

  “HQ’s running it now,” said one operative.

  Snow pulled up beside them in the Mercedes. “Get in,” he said grimly.

  She nodded. Time to face the music. But where was Nick?

  He stood apart, his back to the others, shoulders rigid. He appeared to be staring at the Capitol Building, but she’d bet his gaze focused inward.

  “Nick, we have to go.”

  Without looking at her, he marched to the car. Sweat dripped down his temples. His hand shook as he reached for the door handle.

  On Monday morning, Vanessa went over the day’s schedule with Janine. Baking aromas filled the kitchen, brightening an otherwise gray day.

  A bell rang, and Janine whisked to the oven to remove two browned loaves. “Banana bread,” she announced as she slid the pans onto wire racks.

  At the breakfast bar, Lise and her boyfriend Ray bent over Lise’s college textbooks. Notebooks and scribbled-on sheets fanned across the counter. Ray kept his academic abilities under wraps, but Janine had told Vanessa that he helped the girl with math.

  “You can go about your usual routine. We shouldn’t be in your way,” Vanessa said. “Are you all set with lunch?”

  Janine picked up a file card. “Grilled chicken breasts in lime marinade served on mesclun greens and with fresh-baked French bread. Kiwi-peach tarts for dessert.”

  Just after breakfast, and her mouth was watering. “Just like an upscale menu. You should have your own restaurant.”

  The housekeeper’s mouth curved into a dazzling smile, and a rosy tinge highlighted her cocoa-brown cheeks. “Oh, mademoiselle, c’est mon rêve.”

  “What is your dream?” said a deep voice behind Vanessa.

  Her pulse skipped, and she turned on her heels. Nick had come soundlessly up behind them from the sunroom. How could such a big man move so silently?

  “Oh, it is nothing, Monsieur Nick,” Janine said, flustered. “Would you like some coffee?”

  He shook his head. His damp hair gleamed like black ice, but his Mediterranean-blue eyes held warmth. The corners of his eyes crinkled. “It’s good to have a dream. A goal.”

  Good. He wasn’t letting the wary housekeeper push him away this time. “Janine’s dream is to own a restaurant.” Vanessa turned to the woman. “Caribbean cuisine?”

  Nick slipped an arm around Vanessa and pulled her against him. He was all heat and hardness and woodsy scent. Oh, how she wished this casual affection were for real. She linked her hands at her waist before she yielded to an impulse to touch his freshly shaven cheek.

  “Caribbean, yes. Island cooking.”

  A disdainful snort came from the breakfast bar.

  The housekeeper’s gaze darted to her daughter and Ray.

  Scowling, Lise scooped books and papers into her backpack. Ray jammed folded papers in the pocket of his worn camouflage jacket.

  “I got a class,” Lise barked, as the two shot down the stairs that led to the garage.

  “Lise doesn’t approve of your dream?” Vanessa asked.

  The other woman lifted her shoulders and tilted her head in a classic Gallic shrug. She began to slice the banana bread. “She does not believe it is possible.”

  Nick filched a slice of the warm and fragrant bread. “You have two necessary ingredients, talent and hard work. You’ll get there.” He bit into the slice and murmured his delight.

  Janine flashed him the first genuine smile Vanessa thought she’d ever granted him. “Thank you, Monsieur Nick.”

  A rush of pleasure swept through Vanessa’s blood, warming and softening. In spite of the turmoil and anger inside, his kindness and sense of fair play shone through.

  Saturday he’d protected her with his body.

  With his life.

  He hadn’t been injured, physically. She knew the carnage was emotional, and her heart bled for him. The shooting incident had thrown him unwillingly into combat mode and revived his nightmare. The adrenaline rush had left him sweating and shaking. When she’d tried to thank him for protecting her, he wouldn’t discuss it. Today he seemed to have shoved the demons back in their cages.

  She slipped an arm around his slim waist and nudged him toward the door. “I’d better get this man out of the kitchen before he eats up all the food.”

  “Thanks, Janine.” He snagged another slice. “I plan to work the import staff hard. They’ll need sustenance.”

  Vanessa slipped from beneath his arm as soon as they had passed through the sunroom. Being near him danced electric attraction on her nerves. Those careless embraces were to convince everyone of her identity as his fiancée.

  She needed no convincing. Quite the opposite.

  They continued in silence to the library, where Nick had organized clipboards with copies of Alexei’s inventory and appraisal list. The import staff, experienced with art and antiques, would compare the listed values to the rooms’ contents. Whether or not they found some new priceless treasure, the inventory would be updated, ready for auction.

  Nick leaned against the mahogany desk. “Could Janine or those two kids know where the ten-million-dollar jackpot is?”

  Vanessa flipped through one of the clipboard lists. She narrowed her eyes. “The kids might know where things could be hidden in this house. Janine has no idea, doesn’t want to know. She just shakes her head about your brother and how obsessed he was with wealth.”

  Nick levered away from the desk and lifted the clipboard from her. He tossed it back on the desk and took her hand in both of his.

  “Thanks for helping with this whole thing. I’m glad it’s you here with me.”

  Her gaze tangled with his. The anxiety and affection in those deep blue pools dissolved her effort at distance. The seductive stroking of his thumb on her palm stirred an ache deep within her. Her heart slammed against her ribs. She shouldn’t ask, but the words came out anyway.

  “And…not Danielle?”

  Chapter 9

  Nick rolled his eyes. “Danielle wouldn’t have the patience or the generosity.”

  How odd. What was his relationship with his fiancée? Theirs was a strange sort of engagement, with him coming on to a substitute. Curiosity elbowed aside detachment.

  She pursed her lips, ready to delve. Bad idea for lots of reasons, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “I haven’t heard you say more than a few words about Danielle in the two weeks we’ve been together. And those words have mostly been critical. You don’t talk—or ac
t—like a man in love.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You have the mike on?”

  Her free hand flew to the high-tech pin on her sweater. She didn’t blame him for wanting to keep his love life private. Anxiety tightened her stomach at what intimate secrets he might reveal to her. Did she really want to know?

  “Mike’s off, but I’ll turn it on when the import staff arrive. Even though they’ve been vetted, the CO’s antsy about their running free in the house.”

  He lifted one shoulder, and his gaze slid away. But he didn’t release her hand. “Love doesn’t enter into my relationship with Danielle. We have an…arrangement.”

  “An arrangement. What do you mean?”

  “Our marriage will be mutually beneficial. She gets security, prestige.”

  “Sounds more like a merger than a marriage. What’s your benefit from this contract?”

  “A hostess.” He eyed Vanessa. “Regular sex.”

  Glaring back at him, she yanked her hand away. “Arm candy. What else?”

  His throaty exhalation was a good imitation of Lise’s snort. “Mamas will stop throwing their socialite daughters at me. Women will stop seeing me only as rich husband material.”

  He folded his arms, pulling the crew neck of his white sweater down so her gaze was drawn to the crisp, dark hairs curling at the base of his strong neck.

  She dragged her gaze back up to his smoldering eyes. “Sounds like Danielle.”

  “At least she’s honest about it. No fake lovesick sighs or declarations of love.”

  Like the guys who used to hit on her to wangle an introduction to Diana. The painful similarity hit Vanessa square on the chest.

  She hadn’t given up. But he had.

  She considered changing the subject. Her probe had surpassed professional need to know. She cared about him. The new insights ought to deter her. Instead empathy propelled her onward. A loveless marriage would be a grave mistake for a man who felt so deeply.

  Her chin went up. “And what about a family, children?”

  “No children.” He clamped his mouth into a grim line.

  Her heart twisted at the pain and longing that flickered in his eyes before pride concealed it. “But home and family are what marriage is all about. Kids to play ball with, to read bed-time stories to, to teach to ride a bike. A family to love. You don’t want that?”