“Bully for me.” She shoved at his chest. He released her and sat back as she scrambled to her feet. “I don’t believe you. You’ve lied to me from the beginning. You lied to ATSA.”
Her heart throbbed with anger at his deception. She’d been right not to trust him. If he lied to her about the broken engagement, couldn’t he be lying about his reasons for cooperating with ATSA? Or about his feelings for her? She knew him well enough by now to know the answer to the first. And she was afraid to examine the second. Not daring to look at him, she stomped to the doorway.
But his voice, or her ambivalence, stopped her there.
“The attraction between us, coming to care for you—it was unexpected. I confess to using the engagement as a defense tactic.” The magnetic power of his liquid velvet words curled around the muscles of her chest.
“Camouflage, not defense.” But hadn’t she done the same thing? She wielded her duty to spy on him as a defense against her feelings. The tactic didn’t work for either of them. Her only defense for the moment was keeping her back to him.
“You were right about the arrangement being more of a merger than a marriage. I can see now it wouldn’t have worked out.” He paused, and his voice lowered to a husky rumble when he continued. “For lots of reasons.”
Am I one of those reasons?
She clamped her lips so the words wouldn’t slip from her brain to her mouth. He wasn’t engaged. He’d lied, hadn’t he?
But… Ye gods, he’s not engaged.
Danielle was history. He was free.
Anger floated away and disintegrated like soap bubbles on a summer breeze. In spite of her reservations, her heart skipped happy dance steps.
But… Oh, no, he’s not engaged.
He was free. One less barrier to keeping her detached. Uninvolved. Who was she kidding? Only herself. She might as well admit that she’d left uninvolved in the distant dust.
She turned around to face him.
He rose on his knees. The sincerity in his blue eyes held her. “I didn’t lie about my attraction to you. I think you know that. Come here, Vanessa.”
As if drawn by an invisible force, she found herself kneeling on the mat with him.
Surrounding her with his heat and scent, he pulled her close. His thumbs traced circles on the bare skin of her shoulders, and heat spiraled from the pit of her stomach to seep through her body.
The moment spun out on a fine strand of sensuality.
The need for her fisted into Nick, delivered a punch to the groin. The scent of her sweet, wild energy floated to him with her shampoo and female musk. The raspberry-colored leggings defined her toned yet lush body. The tank top stretched over her full breasts. When she’d appeared in the doorway, he’d nearly dropped the barbells on his feet.
She was different from the society women he knew—dedicated, competent and caring. But trusting her beyond sex and the moment was impossible. Deception was her profession.
At the moment he didn’t care. He had her in his arms.
Her fall had knocked the French braid askew. Tendrils corkscrewed wildly around her delicate face. He tugged the rest loose and buried his hands in the silken mass.
She was warm and passionate. That was real. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He saw it in her vibrant green eyes, in the tilt of her head, in the softness of her lips.
He lowered his head and took her mouth. Her sweetness flowed into him, deep and drugging and addictive. The feather touch of her fingertips on his chest hardened him to steel. His hand found one breast, cupped its lush weight, teased the nipple into attention.
She melted against him, and he palmed her shirt and bra out of the way. He took her turgid nipple in his mouth to absorb more of her essence. When she sighed, he began to sink to the floor with her in his arms.
She stiffened. “Wait, Nick. Oh, stop.”
Light-headed with desire, he forced himself to pull away. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Adjusting her earpiece, she scooted into a sitting position. “Two men have just broken through the back fence.”
She leapt to her feet and dashed out the door.
Nick reeled from the about-face. What was she doing? He had to stop her before she ran out into danger in her raspberry tights. Still groggy, he staggered to his feet.
He caught up with her in the darkened sunroom.
She stood at the terrace door, her fingers wrapped around the handle.
“Don’t,” he said, crossing the room to join her. “Your cover could be compromised. It’s a good bet they’re armed.”
Vanessa turned from staring out the glass-paneled door. She folded her arms. The movement tightened the sexy tank top across her breasts and made it harder for him to emerge from his sensual fog.
Harder, yes. The nylon shorts hid nothing. Thank you for a dark room.
“Give me some credit, Nick,” she said, yanking her hair back and binding it with an elastic doodad.
Reality slapped him a stinging blow. He’d jumped to a wrong conclusion. Plus he’d insulted her professionalism. “You weren’t going out there. You were just watching.” He could kick himself. At least his body was subsiding.
“Right.” Her smile deadened the sting of his blunder.
“I apologize for my brain short-out, but not for wanting to protect you.” ATSA’d placed her in his care. That was that.
“Protecting me is ATSA’s job. Look outside.”
He noticed for the first time that brilliant spotlights turned night into day. The glare illuminated grass, trees, shrubs and at least a dozen people. Men and women in black jumpsuits encircled two figures prone on the stone terrace.
“They caught the intruders.”
She grinned. “Just as planned. Now maybe we’ll get somewhere with finding their leader.”
“Don’t count on it. Convincing them to talk could be harder than bargaining with my Hong Kong supplier. Husam Al-Din still wants the ten million. You’re still in danger.”
Outside, ATSA personnel hauled the two captives to their feet. Shackled hand and foot, they were marched around the house and away. Moments later, the house and grounds once again lay in darkness. No moon penetrated the cloud cover.
But the light of understanding penetrated Vanessa’s brain. She watched the slight leap of a muscle in Nick’s neck, the rigid angle of his jaw. His protective drive grew from roots deep in his soul, the same roots as his sense of honor.
That perception and Nick’s revelation about the engagement clarified nothing, only confused her. The burgeoning feelings in her heart tossed and plunged in an emotional storm. She’d be foolish to think his freedom made any difference.
Being sidetracked with sex might interfere with ATSA’s operation. Part of her job was to be suspicious of him, to check his computer files, to make sure he stayed with the program. She wanted to trust him. She did trust him.
But he wasn’t for her. She had no luck with men, and this man had sure disaster—a shipwreck of her heart—stamped on his forehead. He was rich and powerful and sexy. She wasn’t the type of woman he wanted. Not really.
She was just…handy.
If she remembered that, maybe she could pull back. She’d lost the battle to remain neutral and uninvolved, but she could draw a new line. She could help him shake some of his demons. He could get on with his life. And so could she.
She turned to him, but clasped her hands behind her back. Touching him might sink her good intentions. He’d kissed her into oblivion, and they’d almost had sex on the gym floor. Ye gods, she still tingled. He’d donned a T-shirt. Good. She could talk to him without the added distraction of his sculpted chest. Maybe.
“I’m hitting the shower. We won’t know any more about those guys tonight.” He started to walk away.
“Nick, you can’t be responsible for everything. You’re no more responsible for my safety than you were for what happened in Somalia.” Which he still hadn’t spelled out for her.
Halfway across t
he room, he stopped and pivoted. Light from the hallway silhouetted him. She noted the stiff set of his shoulders, the tight stance, the deceptively casual curl of his hands alongside his sinewy thighs.
She’d touched more than one nerve. Swallowing her trepidation, she waited. She couldn’t see his face, but knew his brows had pulled together over a formidable glare.
“What do you mean? Do you know something I don’t?”
“Not yet. I’ve been…researching. On the computer. The sparse data about that mission is suspicious.”
“Suspicious. How?” In precise, military strides, he returned to face her. Tension rolled off him like sweat.
She forced herself to look into those intense, frosty eyes. “The four men who died are listed as killed in combat, with no details. Reports filed by your commander and his exec are just as sketchy as the paragraph in your file.”
“Cover-up,” he said in a flat tone. “No surprise. The mission was classified. That doesn’t absolve me. I know what happened. What I did and failed to do.”
She shook her head. “After the wipeout in Mogadishu, other classified ops were leaked. Never this one. Why would command protect a green assistant operations sergeant?”
Approaching footsteps brought Nick’s head around. He hunched over in a combative stance.
Grant Snow appeared in the doorway. He flicked on the overhead lights.
Nick straightened slowly, his face a bland mask.
“What’re you two doing here in the dark? Show’s long over.” Holding up a sheaf of papers, Snow crossed to them.
“Let me guess,” Vanessa said. “Our burglars have warbled like the proverbial stool pigeons. ATSA has Husam Al-Din in custody. The op’s over.”
The tightness in her throat cut her glib chatter. If the gig ended, so would her sojourn with this man she shouldn’t care for.
“Dream on, kid,” Snow replied. “But we did find some interesting evidence on the New Dawn agents.” He spread out his three papers on the nearest table.
Each of the sheets of ordinary white copy paper contained pen-and-ink diagrams labeled in English block capitals. Under each word were characters in another alphabet.
“The house,” Nick said, bending over the table. “The bastards had plans of the house. Where’d these come from?”
“I was hoping you could tell me, Mr. M.” He peered at Nick expectantly. “Were they stolen from the house?”
“I’ve never seen them before. These drawings are crude, not to scale. Someone who’s been inside drew them.”
“Possibly from memory.” With a forefinger, Snow tapped the page showing the second floor. “Our translator tells me these Yamari words are translations of the English ones. ‘Master bedroom, Bath, D’s room.’”
“D for Danielle. Ye gods, they know where I sleep.” Vanessa peered at the drawing. “Everyone was supposed to think I’m, um, sleeping with Nick. How did they plan to get to me?”
Snow shrugged. “Maybe wait in your room until morning and snatch you then. We’ll try to find out.”
“How well were the burglars prepared?” Nick asked.
“They had it all. Ace tools. Detectors for picking locks and other electronics for freezing security. Berettas with silencers and a syringe full of something yet to be analyzed.” Snow refolded the papers and pocketed them. “If we hadn’t nabbed them, who knows how far they might’ve gotten.”
A syringe. They’d planned to drug her. Vanessa felt the blood drain from her head. Until now, she’d felt safe in the house.
Nick edged a step closer to her as if to defend her from the would-be kidnappers. Unnecessary, but his instinctive move eased her nerves from jumping-bean force.
“The house plans have to be recent,” Nick ruminated. “Only a few people besides ATSA officers have had access during the last few weeks.”
Vanessa nodded, thinking of Monday’s inventory. “The import staff crawled all over the house like ants. Janine and Lise are here three times a week, but they wouldn’t…”
“And Ray,” Nick said. “Don’t forget Ray. When I entered the kitchen the other morning, he slipped some papers in his pocket. Could’ve been these sketches.”
After Snow left, Vanessa and Nick trudged upstairs.
“If you dig up any more on Somalia, I want to know.” Nick’s even tone belied the intense emotion she knew lurked below the surface.
“Okay. You thinking about what I said?”
“Yeah.” He uttered the word with the finality of a slammed door.
Time to move along. Too much probing at any one time scraped old wounds raw and bleeding.
“We may have a lead in a few days on who provided the map.” Yawning, she stopped at the bathroom door. “ATSA will check bank accounts, tap phones and increase surveillance. Whoever it is may slip up, or New Dawn may contact them.”
Stiffness from her fall was creeping into her joints. She needed sleep. And ibuprofen. She rolled her sore shoulder.
“Al-Din’ll know soon—if he doesn’t already—that his burglar-kidnappers failed, that they’re in custody. He’ll know my protection isn’t just paid bodyguards. What he might do next is anyone’s guess.” He leaned against the doorjamb.
His apparent calm didn’t deceive her. She recognized the wary stillness and cold, predatory gaze. Special Forces mode.
Protecting her meant he was breaking his own rule about avoiding combat situations. ATSA wouldn’t allow him in the loop. She had to convince him to back off. For his own good.
And she had to back off from him. For her own good.
“You have a point, but the CO planned for this. Word’s already out that Chevy Chase’s finest have arrested two men for breaking and entering at this address. When they’re suspected of being illegal aliens, they’ll disappear into federal custody and off the radar screen.”
She yawned again, covering her mouth with one hand. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a shower and some sleep.”
“I’ll be on guard here while you shower.” He didn’t move from his position.
“On guard? That’s not necessary now. The excitement’s over for tonight.”
“Take your shower.”
“But Nick—”
“I saw your face when Snow listed their little bag of tricks. You were scared, professional or not. You had every right to be. I’ll be here.”
She slumped. He was right. She was still scared. And too tired to fight about it. “Thanks, Nick. I won’t be long.”
Hot needles of water drilling into her back leached the stiffness from her muscles, but couldn’t wash away what her brain conjured up.
One minute, in the swirl of water, she saw two dark forms looming over her bed. She shivered with fear.
The next, she pictured Nick, divested of his shirt and shorts, joining her in the shower. Shampooing her hair revived the sensation of his fingers spearing through it and cradling her head. Lathering up made her nipples tingle at the reminder of his mouth on her. Her heartbeat sped and pulses throbbed.
At this rate, if she slept at all, she’d have X-rated dreams instead of nightmares.
She rinsed and dried off quickly. She wrapped one of the guest terry-cloth robes around her and sleeked her damp hair back from her face. When she left the bathroom, sure enough, Nick was standing guard.
The tang of male sweat triggered the image of moisture gleaming on his burnished-olive muscles as he beat the punching bag into submission.
“Don’t you need a shower, too, Rocky?”
“I’ll clean up as soon as you’re settled. Get whatever you need for the night. You’re sleeping in my bed.”
At first she didn’t think she’d heard him right. But he waited, patient and still. Inflexible. Resolute.
The nerve of the man! Anger boiled up her neck into her cheeks. “Now listen, Mister Caveman. Just because we shared a hot kiss—”
“Honey, I’d call what we shared more than a kiss.” The corner of his lips twitched, and the look in his eyes went
from confident to cocky.
“—doesn’t mean I’ll hop in your bed at your command.” She yanked the robe collar more tightly about her neck and turned toward her room. She didn’t have a whole lot of experience, but she was no doormat.
“I know that.”
“What?”
“I wasn’t inviting you to share my bed. Although I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you naked with me on those decadent silk sheets.” His languid gaze cruised her body as if penetrating the thick robe.
Sparks danced along her nerves. The back of her throat dried. She tried to swallow. “What, then?”
The hot look dialed down to cool and assessing. “Vanessa, you’ll be safer in the master suite. You can have the bed. The security monitor will be right beside you. And don’t worry—I’ll sleep on the floor.”
And how long would that arrangement last? He already had her off balance. It’s not you he wants, Vanessa. It’s the illusion, the role. The man turned her on without even trying. Her efforts about clearing up Somalia slipped her further into his life. But she would draw the line at sex. If she were to survive undercover, she had to.
Facing facts strengthened her resolve, but didn’t douse the flame he’d ignited.
“I’ll be all right in this room,” she said. “The fence is fixed and the bad guys are gone.”
“And you’ll sleep like a baby? You won’t lie awake listening to every creak and groan in this old house? Hearing footsteps? Or tools on the locks?”
“Well…”
“You don’t know they were alone. You don’t know that was the only map. ATSA protection isn’t with you 24/7. I am. Or I will be from now on.”
Every feminine instinct she possessed to the contrary, a few minutes later she found herself ensconced in the king-sized bed in her faded old nightgown. Maybe the long sleeves and high neck would quell his libido. And hers. Maybe she could fall asleep before he got out of the shower.
The water was running. She pictured it coursing over his shoulders, over slabs and ridges of muscle and through crisp hairs curling around his flat nipples. Down his belly to—
Flopping over on her stomach, Vanessa pulled the pillow over her head. She shut her eyes.
Code Name: Fiancée Page 13
