Heath shadowed her, weaving through the gathered clusters of people who’d stopped to admire the lights and decorations and carolers singing. Inside a cordoned off area of the Discovery Center, he saw Senator Lawrence standing on a small dais, giving a speech that was being amplified over speakers strung through the park’s trees, always using any opportunity to sell his new energy legislation, claiming it would benefit the hardest hit Americans—the elderly and the forgotten blue-collar citizens.
Lawrence’s public persona came across as very affable and cordial, but Heath wasn’t fooled. He’d spent his whole life growing up amongst the rarified wealthy and he knew exactly how most of his father’s generation operated—all for one. That was it. No “one for all.” The buck started and stopped in their own wallets, period. Heath had learned that lesson early on at his father’s knee and he’d spent the rest of his life trying to distance himself from that philosophy, trying to make a difference for the betterment of everyone, not just the top one percent.
A flash of red caught his attention from the periphery and Heath turned to find his Santa waiting in the line of people to greet the senator once his speech was over. She’d pulled off her hat and fake beard now, leaving only the gray wig in place, and Heath raced forward once more. No doubt in his mind now that this was Murphy’s missing sister. That face, those eyes.
Aileen.
His heart stumbled and his blood pounded loud in his ears.
There was no mistaking those elfin features or the determined set to her full lips, the same dogged expression he’d seen on Murphy’s face every time they’d gotten together to go over his sister’s case for the past few weeks. Part of Heath wanted to make a beeline over there and hoist the woman over his shoulder, caveman style, and carry her back to the apartment where Murphy and Daveed waited for his latest update.
But the other part of him couldn’t seem to stop staring at her beauty. Which was ridiculous. This was his target, his best bud’s little sister. Heath had no business lusting over her, no matter how attractive she was. Besides, she was treading in very dangerous waters when it came to this whole energy fraud deal with a US senator and if he had found her so easily, chances were good that Lawrence could too, given his vast resources.
Besides, charging over there would only spook Aileen and Heath couldn’t risk losing her again after only just now finding her. He needed to wait until she was distracted before he made his move. So, Heath waited and watched from several feet away, taking cover in the crowds surrounding him. A few times, Aileen’s gaze darted his direction, but she looked away again quickly as if she hadn’t spotted him. And honestly, he was betting on the fact she wouldn’t recognize him anyway. One more reason he’d let his appearance go a bit shaggy over the past few weeks. With his beard and his messy hair, he looked a far cry from the preppy hipster Aileen had met the last time they were introduced.
All the better to catch my prey.
A tourist bumped into Heath and knocked him sideways. He turned to accept their apology, but when he looked back at where Aileen had stood moments before, she was gone.
Fuck and hell.
Scowling, Heath limped forward, weaving through people and searching for another glimpse of her tacky crimson suit. Just when he was about to give up, she reappeared, heading down the sidewalk, away from Central Park and back toward the direction they’d originally come from.
Ignoring the cramping in his left leg and the slap of frigid wind nipping at his cheeks, Heath followed behind her, doing his best to stay unobtrusive and failing miserably, if the way she kept glancing back at him over her shoulder was any indication.
He’d not done surveillance work like this since the war and he was a bit rusty, truth be told. All the more reason to stay indoors and let Murphy and Daveed do this sort of shit. Murphy had been a SEAL before joining their group and had only recently decided not to re-enlist, so his skills were still super sharp. Plus, he was a computer whiz to boot, willing and able to pore over data until the wee hours, hot cup of coffee in hand. And Daveed, well he’d been in Army intelligence, so he could be crafty as fuck when needed. Besides, with the way Daveed had handily eluded his royal duties back in his homeland paradise of Al Dar Nasrani, the guy was used to all this cloak and dagger crap. Each of the team members had different strengths. Strengths which complemented each other. It’s what had made them such an effective force in the military and what bonded them as lifelong friends outside in the real world.
Heath pulled his phone out of his coat pocket, thinking now might be a good time to call for backup, only to find the battery dead. Fuck. Another casualty of standing out here in the freezing temps all day.
Cursing, he ducked his head against the strong winter bluster that was blowing straight at him now and ploughed ahead. He couldn’t let Murphy down. Aileen was alive. Aileen was close. He just had to keep her in his sights until he could approach her. He owed Murphy that and so much more for saving his life back in Afghanistan. It was a debt he could never repay, but reuniting his friend with his sister might be a start.
Lost in his thoughts, Heath didn’t see the figure that stepped into his path, blocking him, until it was too late. He nearly ran right over the top of them and had to clasp his arms around them to keep them both from toppling to the ground. Heat and soft curves filled his senses first, followed by the scent of apples and pine. He stared down into the prettiest pair of amber eyes he’d ever seen, speechless for the first time in recent memory.
“Want to tell me who the hell you are and why the hell you’re following me?” Aileen asked, staring up at Heath with one dark brow raised.
2
Aileen Coen did her best to hide the tremble in her knees and keep her voice steady. She’d been on guard for weeks now, ever since she’d started working undercover on the EnKor-Senator Lawrence story. And for good reason too. Twice already she’d been put in deadly situations because of it—first when she’d almost been run over by a car, and later when she’d nearly been pushed to her death on the subway tracks. Aileen wasn’t paranoid by nature, but a couple of brushes with danger like that made a girl start to wonder.
Not that threatening her life would make her give up. On the contrary, it only made her more determined. She was a journalist and with that job came responsibilities, like keeping the public informed of the truth and not letting crooked politicians get away with their crimes—monsters like the not-so-honorable Senator Milford Lawrence of Kentucky.
So, until she got to the bottom of what was proving to be a cesspool of filthy deals and outright lies, she kept one eye on what was happening around her and who might be stalking her. She’d never expected it would be some guy who looked more like Grizzly Adams than a paid assassin bought by Lawrence’s dirty cash. Funny thing was though, the longer she stared up into her stalker’s blue-gray eyes, the more familiar he seemed.
“Who are you?” she asked again, her knee pressed firmly against his groin through the heavy layers of his cashmere coat. Nice fabric, suggesting he had some money stashed away somewhere, probably from all his recent kills. She nudged his nuts again. “Tell me or you’ll be walking funny for weeks.”
He frowned at her words, that beard of his oddly attractive. She’d never really gotten into the whole lumberjack look on guys, but he made her want to change her opinion. There was a strong jaw beneath that scruff and smooth pale skin her fingertips suddenly itched to stroke. Beneath his coat were firm muscles as well, giving her a hint as to the strength of her opponent. He licked his lips and gazed down at her, his warm breath fanning her face, and a sudden shock of awareness shot through her. She knew this guy. But from where?
In her business, she had to be good with faces. Her mind whirled through thousands of acquaintances over the years, people she’d met or worked with or had been friends of her or her brother and—
That was it. This guy was good friends with her older brother, Murphy.
He looked different now though—older, shaggier, sex
ier.
Aileen lowered her leg slightly, still staying within striking distance if needed, but allowing the guy a bit of breathing room. What was his name again? Harper? Henry? No. Heath. Heath Goldwin. Yep, that was it. He’d been some rich preppy the last time she’d seen him. But how the hell had her brother’s friend found her? She’d purposely covered her tracks well, and left her private life behind while working this story to keep Murphy safe. Then again, her brother had been in special ops and was nosy as hell and she’d never planned to be gone so long either.
The thought of Murphy being sick with worry over where she might be and what might have happened to her made Aileen’s gut twist, but it was the only way she could see to do what had to be done. And right now, she was the only one who could do it.
The other reporters at the Globe were either too busy working on their own stories or thought she was just full of crap to accuse the affable Milford Lawrence of such heinous things. Everyone liked the guy. He had a reputation as a do-gooder on Capitol Hill. Even her well-heeled, “trust none of the bastards in Washington” editor at the newspaper had scoffed, calling her stories of fraud and bilking the elderly out of their life savings a hoax. Still, her persistence had paid off and he’d ended up giving her a deadline of December thirty-first to either turn in a viable story on this or let it go and get back to real work.
Heath loosened his hold around her, his blue-gray gaze narrowed. “You remember me now? Heath Goldwin? I’m Murphy’s friend from special ops.”
She nodded, a bit mesmerized by his deep, rich voice, though she’d never admit it. After seeing Heath last time at some party Murphy had thrown, he’d looked like he’d walked right off the pages of some Ralph Lauren ad and quite frankly Aileen had harbored a secret crush on the guy. He’d always reminded her of that actor, Bradley Cooper, looks-wise, and there was something about that slight limp of his that just set her heart racing.
Her blood thundered loud in her ears as if in agreement. Or maybe it was the fact he’d been stalking her in a public park. Either way, she needed to get away from him. For both their sakes. Senator Lawrence had spotted her back at the park and had signaled his henchman to come after her, that’s why she’d taken off. She’d really wanted to talk to him, but didn’t want to risk a public confrontation in such an open area. Too many lives at risk, including her own.
“Where the hell have you been, Aileen?” Heath asked, knocking her back to reality. “Me and the guys have been combing this city looking for you. Murphy’s about nuts because of it. He was scared you were hurt or dead or God knows what. You couldn’t make a phone call?”
Forcing herself to take a deep, calming breath, she glanced around her before answering, making sure the senator’s bodyguards hadn’t found them. “No, I couldn’t. I’m working on a story. A big one. Tell Murphy I’m fine and I’ll contact him after the first of the year when I’m done.” With as much dignity as she could muster still dressed in her thrift-store Santa suit, Aileen squared her shoulders and pulled free of his grasp, turning to head back to where the senator was still shaking hands and greeting his potential fan base. Maybe she’d shaken his guards and could now approach him before he left. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.”
“Like hell you do.” Heath followed her through the crowds, not taking the hint at all or ignoring it, more likely. He always was kind of bossy too, she remembered. Too much like her. “You’ve disappeared off the face of the earth for a month and I’m supposed to just walk away and tell everyone it’s cool? Think again, lady.”
“Tell them whatever you want. I don’t care.” Which wasn’t true at all. She and Murphy were as close as two siblings could be and she’d never do anything to cause him pain. Still, Aileen did her best to sound flippant. Murphy always joked that she had the smartest mouth on the Eastern Seaboard. Guess it was time to put her reputation to good use if it got rid of this guy. She gave Heath an irritated look over her shoulder, taking in his understated, hand-tailored cashmere coat and hand-tooled leather boots. His wardrobe basically screamed money, though it seemed like he did his best to hide the fact. Intriguing. She shoved her interest aside and hurried on down the sidewalk while Heath kept pace beside her. “I’m sure you’ve got another million to make or something. Don’t let me keep you.”
Not breaking his stride or his stoic expression, Heath stayed arm and arm with Aileen as she edged nearer to where Senator Lawrence stood near the door of his SUV. Heath raised a brow at her. “Money isn’t everything, you know.”
“No? That’s what rich people always say.” Aileen huffed to blow the long grayish-white curls of her Santa wig out of her face. “Just once, I’d like to get a big old gob of money and try that theory out for myself.”
Not that she was particularly materialistic. She wasn’t. Growing up poor on a military base without a mom to guide her had pretty much ensured that Aileen was about as un-girly as women came. She liked things simple and straightforward, without a lot of fuss or muss. Good old Heath here, with his persnickety clothes and disapproving frown, seemed like the epitome of fussy. Which was too bad, really, since he was about the handsomest thing she’d seen in a good long time. A coil of lust unfurled in her belly before Aileen tamped it down.
Now wasn’t the time or place and Heath Goldwin certainly wasn’t the right guy. Hell, Murphy would shit and die if he thought she was sleeping with one of his friends. Which under other circumstances would’ve given Aileen an evil thrill, but now she had bigger issues to deal with—namely one crooked old senator.
There was a slight break in the line of people waiting to meet Milford Lawrence and Aileen seized her opportunity. Nudging her way into the front of the line, she held up a small digital recorder and flashed her most brilliant fake smile up at Senator Lawrence. He wasn’t exactly what one would imagine a criminal mastermind to look like—mid-sixties, a bit portly, with a kindly-looking smile and hunched shoulders that gave him a perpetually stooped posture. Everything about the guy screamed non-threatening. But Aileen had learned a long time ago that looks could be deceiving. And if her hunches were right and this guy was involved in the biggest case of fraud involving a clean energy company in US history, well then, she intended to nail his ass to the wall like a bug under glass.
Aileen swallowed hard and, in true intrepid reporter style, went straight for his jugular.
“Senator Lawrence,” she said, shoving the recorder in his face. “Aileen Coen from the New York Daily Globe. I’m writing an article about suspected fraud within the country’s energy providers. Want to give me a quote on your committee’s recent approval for a huge, multi-billion-dollar government grant to clean-energy company EnKor for its research into making geothermal energy the ‘New Oil’?”
For a moment, the senator just stared at her, as if taken aback by the question. The vote on the congressional floor to approve the funds had only taken place two days prior and had mysteriously gotten very little coverage in the press. The only way Aileen had gotten wind of it was through one of her trusted contacts in Washington, DC.
Senator Lawrence seemed to recover quickly, however, though his smile was a bit less kindly than before. He gave her a cool stare from behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “No comment.”
Then Lawrence flicked his wrist, signaling to his bodyguards again. The same two beefy guards emerged from behind the circle of Secret Service agents and headed for Aileen.
Shit. She took a step back and ran right into Heath, his body a wall of heat and muscle.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, his gaze locked on the henchman. “We need a distraction, something to throw them off.”
“Well, I don’t know what that’s gonna be. The guy’s staring right at us and—”
With a muttered curse, Heath wrapped his arm around her waist and spun Aileen to face him. His eyes sparkled with annoyance as he lowered his head to hers. “The fucking sacrifices I make for my friends.”
With that, his lips closed over hers and
the world around them seemed to dissolve.
Surprised, Aileen gasped and Heath took advantage, his soft tongue sliding into her mouth as his arms tightened his hold around her. He tasted of mint and coffee and pure male desire and she was intoxicated. Lost. Knocked clean off her feet. Aileen moaned and slid her hands around his neck, into those blond curls of his, discovering they did indeed feel as soft as they looked.
Gone was her common sense, gone was any rational idea that this was all for show, that this was only to keep the guards from hauling her ass off to some warehouse somewhere and chaining her to a wall until the senator’s deal went through without a hitch. Already, a small crowd had formed around them, clucking and cooing and gushing about the magic of the season.
Yep, it was certainly magic all right, if the way her senses zeroed in was any indication.
All that existed now was her and Heath and this fantastic kiss they shared.
When Heath pulled away slightly, all Aileen could do was blink up at him, her breath panting and her heart thumping against her chest like a frantic bird in a cage. He glanced behind her at the guards then smiled, his blue-gray eyes warm with humor and a hint of affection. If she didn’t know better, she’d almost believe he’d wanted to kiss her, that he’d enjoyed it as much as she had.
“Darling,” Heath said, raising his hand to trace the backs of his fingers down her heated cheek. “I’ve been looking for you all over. We’ve got reservations at LeCirque in half an hour. Best get going.”
Before Aileen could react, he kissed her again fast then took her hand and tugged her away from the park. Good thing Heath had a firm hold on her too, because given her bulky costume and the tingle in her toes, she wasn’t sure she could’ve supported herself without tripping and falling. Her mind was still preoccupied with his taste, his scent, his… everything.
All I Want for Christmas is…: The Complete Series Page 26
