One-Click Buy: September 2010 Harlequin Blaze

by Lori Wilde

  “How do you know he’ll come?”

  “I’ll dangle the opportunity to mix with rich potential clients. He’ll be there. And since the host is new around the island, and this recent criminal activity is new, I wonder if the two connect?”

  “So Rafton and this guy don’t already know each other?”

  “Maybe. It’ll be interesting to observe them and find out. You can go as my date.” The word date made her frown. “So we go undercover?”

  The sensually wicked grin that never failed to make her pulse pound teased his lips. “Absolutely.”

  “Just remember I’m in charge.”

  “How could I forget?” When she flicked him a suspicious glance, he added, “You are armed, after all.”

  So are you, she longed to add. That smile should be registered as a lethal weapon.

  “I need to get going,” she said, and even she recognized the regret in her tone.

  His hand cupped her jaw gently. “I was hoping you’d stay awhile.”

  “I have evidence to log, and I need to do some background work on the party and the guests. Can you get me the information?”

  Surprisingly, he didn’t press her to stay. “I’ll send it over by the morning.”

  Why was she disappointed he’d given over to the demands of the case so easily? Why was there a part of her that wanted him to press her into staying? Into going back to his boat and finishing what they’d started?

  Deliberately, she shook the idea from her mind. “Who’s the sheriff on the island?”

  “Tyler Landry. Former Marine. He’s just been on the job a few months, but he’s sharp.”

  “At some point I’ll need to inform him about at least some of what I’m doing, what I suspect.”

  “Federal cooperation with the locals?” Hamilton paused, amusement tugging his lips. “How progressive of you.”

  “I can be reasonable…eventually. But I want to keep this party business quiet, see what happens. I’m telling nobody but the SAC. Even though I’ve got probable cause for a search warrant on the boat, I’m not going to ask for it.” She smiled fiercely. “I’m also not calling the DEA. This is all mine—for now.”

  “Ours. And you might consider bringing in Landry sooner rather than later. You’ll get his support and discretion.”

  “You know him well.”

  “He’s married to a good friend of mine, and they happen to be my neighbors.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  This case was pretty personal all around—not that she should be surprised on an island of this size.

  She certainly hadn’t anticipated being involved, though.

  And, like it or not, she was involved.

  Getting personally mixed up with a witness was a risky career move, but at some point during the night she’d quit pretending she could resist Carr Hamilton’s allure. As long as they kept their relationship quiet and separate from the case, and as long as she reminded herself that he was simply a pleasurable means to an end, there was no reason she couldn’t be a normal woman and enjoy herself.

  Sex was a great stress buster, and she rarely took the time and effort to indulge in personal needs. Especially since her last risky career move. She sighed.

  Then again, maybe risky was a colossal understatement.

  HE WANTED HER too much.

  As Carr watched Malina walk down the pier away from him, he fought to ignore the aching need in his body.

  It was better to let her go for now. He needed to regroup, and she was wise in using caution at them being seen together.

  But it was hard.

  Hell, he was hard. Perpetually, it seemed.

  With no carnal relief in sight and troubled by the intensity of his attraction, he resisted the urge to slip into Jack’s cabin to do a little off-the-record searching and instead headed to his own slip. He locked up and checked the dock ties before casually making his way to The Heron. There, he drank a whiskey and chatted with Jimmy, communicating to all that he was just a regular guy going about his regular routine.

  Certainly not spying on a fellow islander or planning an undercover yacht party operation with the FBI.

  All the while he talked and drank, however, he couldn’t get Malina Blair’s pillow-soft lips and vivid eyes out of his mind.

  As he’d traveled his new path of redemption, he’d begun to long for a woman to share his life with. Someone who might not necessarily have to know the man he used to be, but could appreciate the man he was trying to become.

  Unfortunately, the one he wanted had instigated a deep background check on him and probably knew all his dirty secrets. One who was bound by regulations to keep her distance, as well as harboring a deep longing to escape from the island that had become his saving grace.

  There was irony in that realization, as well as a hint of divine punishment.

  Of course that didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight to make her crave him as much as he did her. Or strive to change her mind about both him and his island home. Or do his absolute best to circumvent, dodge or outwit rules and retribution, no matter how much they were needed and deserved.

  Most would say the gray areas were where he did his best work anyway.

  THOUGH CARR HAD spoken to Malina a few times by phone over the past two days, he hadn’t seen her, and he found himself pacing his front parlor as he awaited her arrival on Friday afternoon.

  The warm and sunny March day had inspired him to open his windows, so the scent of salt and sea flowed through the house. He’d called his cleaning service and had them come out that morning to polish the considerable amount of stainless steel and glass.

  In a rare show of indecisiveness, he’d changed clothes three times before deciding on a pair of crisply pressed navy pants and a white oxford-cloth shirt.

  His heart leaped as the doorbell rang, and he had to force himself to take a deep breath and roll his shoulders before closing the few feet between him and the door.

  A curvy blonde, wearing a short, formfitting, royal-purple halter-top dress and gold stilettos, stood on his porch. For one jarring moment he thought a new form of door-to-door sales was being launched—and a very enticing one at that.

  Only the tough glare in the woman’s turquoise eyes gave away her identity.

  “I spent two hours messing with this getup, so don’t even think about critiquing.”

  Somehow, Carr managed to speak around his swollen tongue. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  He stepped back and extended his arm to invite her in, then, groaning, watched her walk past him. Her long, toned, tanned legs had his blood running hot and his palms sweating.

  He was supposed to pretend to be crazy about her all night?

  Gee, that would be difficult.

  Following her, he commented, “Why, Agent Blair, what lovely legs you have.”

  She cast him an amused look over her shoulder. “Cute. You look like the typical yacht-going millionaire. Where’s your watch cap?”

  “At the cleaners. I didn’t expect you to appear incognito.”

  “We agreed to do this undercover, right?”

  Heroically, he resisted the urge to point out that his best undercover work didn’t require any clothes at all.

  Especially since he’d rather demonstrate than chatter needlessly.

  “We did agree,” he said. “Well, given your usual choice of binding your hair back and wearing either unobtrusive navy or black, I doubt anybody would recognize you in that.”

  She glanced down at herself and shrugged. “I can’t take the chance. I’ve interviewed several people on the island regarding Jack Rafton.” She continued to walk down the hall. “Plus, the mayor’s on the guest list. I met him at an event in Charleston, so he knows I’m an agent.”

  “I should have considered that.”

  “I did. It’s my—” She stopped, her head twisting to scan the area around her.

  The entire back half of the house where she now stood was curved in two places like t
owers and made up mostly of windows to take advantage of the point’s majestic view. One tower even held a curved steel staircase that twined its way up three floors to a small observation deck overlooking the rippling ocean.

  He watched her turn and take in the steel railing bracketing the wide, floating staircase that dominated the two-story living and kitchen areas and led to the balcony walkway and upstairs bedrooms. Her gaze flicked over the black marble countertops, the glass and stainless-steel tables, the art on the walls, the sculptures, the white decor and furniture mixed with bare splashes of red and blue.

  It was quite a contrast to his conservative and comforting, antique-heavy office.

  “My job,” she finished finally, her gaze finding his and holding. “Do you like surprising people?”

  “Do you often put on a short skirt and heels, let the bad guys take a good, long look at those fabulous legs and initiate a sting under the insignia of justice?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I try to keep the sluttiness down to once a week.”

  “What a shame.”

  “Did you design and build this house?” she asked, ignoring his come-on.

  “Yes.”

  “So who decorated your office?”

  “I did.”

  “Huh.”

  Clearly, he’d stumped her. He liked the idea. He also couldn’t help his gaze dropping to her supremely impressive cleavage. “Where do you carry your gun in an outfit like that?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  He grinned. “Definitely. Come on, where?”

  “I don’t. And trust me I’m not happy about it.”

  He closed the distance between them, bracing his hands at her narrow waist. “You’re unarmed?” he clarified, dipping his head to brush his lips across her cheek.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Okay.” Of course now that he was touching her, breathing in a warm, floral scent that was a departure from her usual clean cotton, he couldn’t care less about weapons.

  “I have a switchblade strapped to my thigh,” she finished.

  He pressed his lips to her earlobe. “Maybe I should check to be sure it’s loaded properly.”

  She swatted his shoulder in a totally uncharacteristic playful gesture, then stepped back. “You keep your distance.”

  He tried to look insulted. “I thought you were my blonde bimbo, and I was your morally ambiguous sugar daddy.”

  “You have quite an imagination. And you need to remember this is my op. You’re the reluctant ally I’m using to close this case and get my career back on track.”

  Leaning back, he tried to look comically insulted, even though his gut clenched. “Being morally ambiguous, I can accept that.”

  She turned away. “We should get going.”

  “You don’t want a tour?”

  She cast one last and—if he wasn’t mistaken—longing look around the living room, her gaze lingering on the staircase to the observation deck. “Maybe some other time.”

  As they headed outside, she moved toward her government-issue sedan, paused, then swore.

  Since Carr could all but hear the silent argument in her head, he said nothing. He simply paused beside the garage doors. Being so close to the ocean, the house was raised above the ground and the lower level was all storage. In his case, the garage held his golf clubs, yard tools, pool and hot tub chemicals and his Triumph Spitfire.

  Finally, Malina turned. “I guess we should take your car.”

  He pressed his lips together briefly. “If you insist…”

  He pressed a button on the remote keychain in his pocket, and the garage doors slid open. After assisting blonde-but-still-stunning Malina into the passenger seat, he pulled away from the house—with the top down, naturally.

  “Will the breeze upset your wig, or did you dye your hair?”

  Her eyes popped wide. “Dye my—” She stopped, and her jaw tightened. “I’m not vain. I just wouldn’t dye my hair for an op.” She paused. “Probably. It’s a wig, if you have to know. It’s on, and it’s not going anywhere.”

  “Good.” He paused as he pulled out on Beach Road. “I like your hair as it is. Very Thai.”

  “I’m an American, like you.”

  “And while there’s a remnant of the Scots in me, there’s a world of Polynesian in you. It isn’t an insult, you know. The beauty of your ancestors is renowned, and despite the chaotic mix of many island nations, differing religions and backgrounds, plus the selling of rum-infused umbrella drinks in coconuts, your culture has even miraculously survived the formidable tourist industry.”

  She looked over at him. “Is that your wordy way of telling me I’m pretty just the way I am?”

  He chuckled. “It is.”

  “Thanks, but I really need to focus on this op.”

  “Sorry.” He fought to hide his disappointment. “Just trying to stay in character.”

  She slid her hand across his thigh so suddenly he jolted. “I have to keep my professional life away from my personal life. When I let my emotions get mixed up with my job, I run into trouble. You know why I was sent here, so you understand.”

  His jaw tightened, but he nodded. Damned if he’d let her past—in which she’d done nothing wrong, by the way—dictate the need crawling through his veins. And she wanted him, too. If she didn’t, he’d bow out. He’d help close the case, then move on without a word of regret. What did he have to do to—

  “Whatever happens between us has to stay private and after hours.”

  Interrupted from his private rant, he glanced at her. “So you acknowledge there is something between us.”

  A rare smile bloomed on her face. “Oh, yeah.”

  He momentarily forgot how to shift gears. “So, after hours…when are those exactly?”

  “My work is my life. I don’t have hours. But I think I can fit you in somewhere.”

  Before he could be insulted at being “fit in” between suspects and reports, she leaned over, scraping her lips across his jaw. “This party has to end sometime, right?”

  Talk about surprise.

  As abruptly as the sensuous woman buried inside her had appeared, Malina leaned back in her seat, her eyes all business. “I followed up on your monthly garage tip and found Rafton’s Lotus. It’s shiny and obvious. I also found the record of the purchase.”

  “You traced it all the way back under the name John Smith? Must have been some search.”

  She snorted in derision. “Not that hard. You were right about his lack of creativity, and there haven’t been that many domestic sales of the Lotus in the last several months. Especially not ones with Charleston as the delivery point.”

  Carr braked hard. “He had it shipped to Charleston?”

  “Atlanta would have been wiser. L.A. or New York would have been seriously smart. But, just as you pointed out, he’s not exactly a master criminal. You know how many Ardent Red Lotus Elises are registered in South Carolina?”

  “Not many.”

  “One.”

  Despite his dedication to stopping whatever Jack was doing, Carr winced. Would he, even in his most morally ambiguous days, have had a defense for that purchase? Unfortunately, yes.

  “Something’s certainly up with Rafton,” Malina mused. “Whether he’s simply a lousy money manager or a thief and/or smuggler…” She shrugged. “It’s too soon to tell. What about the Kendricks? Do you know them? He has a note in our files, due to the unsolved murder of his parents.”

  “Aidan and Sloan. Her father was the sheriff for many years. He just retired in January, and Aidan is a successful businessman many times over. They’re good friends of mine.”

  At her questioning glance, he added, “Yes, I know everyone on the island—the advantages of living in a small town. Despite my scheming, money-grubbing ways, even Sister Mary Katherine and I have bonded.”

  Malina raised her eyebrows. “Sister? As in Catholic nun?”

  “She makes all the lawyers meet bimonthly
.”

  “Wise lady.”

  “She certainly is.” And a forgiving one, as well. She’d assured him even the worst of society had a place in heaven, should they strive to find their way. “You two are a lot alike.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “No, you are.” And the more he compared the two women, the more he was convinced. “You both have a titanium center of strength. You stand on the side of what’s right, no matter the risk. You’re both stubborn and sure your way is the only way.”

  “That last part sounds just like me.”

  “Fortunately for both of you, I’m around to keep everyone flexible and on their toes.”

  Malina flicked him a surprised look. “You mean you spend all the time you’re not butting into my case, following around a Catholic nun and telling her how to do her job?”

  Saying nothing, Carr pulled into the yacht club parking lot. Finally, as he maneuvered the Spitfire into a space, he commented, “With conversations like this burned into my memory, is it any wonder I’m constantly trying to get you into my bed?”

  “I thought my sarcasm would discourage you.”

  “It makes me want to shut you up by kissing you until you forget what you were talking about in the first place.” He turned, bracing his arm across the back of her seat. “In fact, let’s practice that technique now.”

  Before she could respond with more than widened eyes, he’d captured her mouth with his. He slid his tongue into her mouth, seducing her with his touch, since his words often seemed to have an unpredictable effect. Though he’d always been enticed by her simple scent, he had to admit the warm spice radiating from her golden skin suited her, or at least suited Malina, if not necessarily Agent Blair.

  The contrast between moments when she willingly gave herself over to her needs and her absolute fierceness always delighted him. Layers and layers of heat lingered beneath her tough exterior, and he couldn’t wait to uncover them all.

  She laid her hands on his chest, angling her head, giving back as much as he longed to draw from her. Her lips were soft and seeking, and touching her was, as always, amazing.

  When they separated, each breathing hard, her pupils were dilated. She curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. “What was I saying?” she asked, sounding dazed.