“Oh, that’s so exciting!” she said loudly, then whispered, “What number?”
“Forty-five.”
Number forty-five was a small store with a dirty front window and green and red paint peeling around the frame. An old, pitiful-looking Christmas wreath still hung on the door, and the sign hanging out front read only “mas Depot.” Obviously, the Christmas Depot had been gone for some time. On the left side of the shop was a run-down T-shirt shop and on the right a prominent-looking jewelry store.
Gage drew Roxanne to the jewelry-store window. “How ’bout that necklace, baby?” He pointed at a diamond choker that probably made up ten karats.
Though her eyes popped wide, she giggled. “Oh, honey, I just love that one.”
He slid his hand around hers and gave her an encouraging squeeze. “Let’s try it on.”
Inside the shop, a nicely dressed, soft-spoken elderly man introduced himself as Mr. Tanner, the owner. Roxanne picked up the ball without missing a beat, oohing and aahing over the sparkling gems in the long glass case dominating one wall, giving Gage the opportunity to wander, ostensibly to look at the art, crystal vases and porcelain figurines scattered around.
He noted the decent security system by the back door, which led into a small storeroom, then the alley. The only vehicle in the alley was a gray Volvo, conveniently parked with the plate visible. Gage made a mental note, then continued his tour around the room.
It was a nice shop with a quality, if smallish, inventory. He doubted Mr. Tanner had any idea a ruthless mobster was renting next door.
Approaching Roxanne from behind, he used the opportunity to slide his arm around her waist. “Find anything, baby?”
Several gaudy necklaces lay against black velvet. The diamond choker from the window. One with several large square rubies. One with sapphires. One with—He swallowed.
And one with a pear-shaped diamond surrounded by small emeralds hanging from a delicate gold chain.
It matched her engagement ring to a tee.
“The lady likes the choker,” Mr. Tanner said, “but I think this one matches her well.” He pointed at the diamond and emerald necklace. “It goes perfectly with her eyes, don’t you think, sir?”
His heart pounding, Gage glanced at Roxanne. Her eyes were stricken and focused on his face. “Yes, it does.”
Mr. Tanner smiled, obviously sensing the close of the sale. “Would the lady like to try it on?”
Gage lifted Roxanne’s hair off her neck as Mr. Tanner leaned forward to fasten the chain, but she stepped back suddenly, shaking her head. “I’ve…I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want any jewelry.” She stared over Gage’s shoulder, careful not to meet his gaze. “Can we just go now?”
“Sure.” Trying to hide his hurt over her rejection, and sensing she needed a moment to herself, he added, “I’ll meet you outside.”
The second she was out the door, he said to Mr. Tanner, “Wrap it up, please. I’ll give it to her later.”
Mr. Tanner nodded silently and proceeded to ring up the sale.
Outside, as the door closed behind him, Gage immediately started down the street, leaving Roxanne to follow.
She grabbed his arm, turning him to face her. “I’m sorry. Did I screw things up in there?”
“No.” He started to move away again.
She held tight to his arm. “I’m sorry, Gage. You must know why I couldn’t—”
“Forget it.” He pulled his arm free and stalked down the sidewalk. He knew he was acting like an ass, but he was too pissed off at the moment to reason with himself. If she was so damn determined to throw his feelings, his ring and that damn necklace back in his face, maybe he should just let her. He’d been alone a long time. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for happily-ever-after anyway. Just because he wanted marriage didn’t mean he’d be good at it. He’d probably screw it up. He obsessed over his career and—
Hell, if there was a marriage, there wouldn’t be a career.
Damn, he wanted a drink. And a damn aspirin.
Somehow, he had the presence of mind to find his way to the next address. He stormed past his target number eighty-eight—a florist—then stopped two doors down at ninety-two, a lingerie shop. Roxanne wouldn’t like it, but the only other shop between the two addresses was an art gallery. He wasn’t toting around a painting all afternoon.
“In here,” he said as he held open the door.
She glanced at the sign—Ooh, Ah—and winced, but she strode inside.
Before he entered, Gage again glanced down to eighty-eight and noted a burly bald man pushing his way through the door. He’d seen that face before—on a mug shot. One of Stephano’s henchmen.
Cursing and hoping he hadn’t been seen, he slipped into the lingerie shop. The placed was filled with everything you’d need…if you were a hooker. Frilly lingerie, leather lingerie, hip boots, halter tops, hot pants, feather boas, and even variety-flavored condoms by the case. Of course, their primary customers might also be quiet, suburban couples, looking to add some spark to their love lives.
Gage certainly wouldn’t object if Roxanne showed up at the dinner table wearing one of those red lace hot pants and bra thingys hanging on the far wall.
Roxanne poked him in the back. “And just what do you think we’re going to buy in here?” she asked in a low tone.
He turned and smiled sweetly. “Darling, it’s just your style, don’t you think?”
“Good morning.” A small Oriental man bowed before them. “I will offer you assistance?” He smiled as he stared at Roxanne, showing a wide gap between his two front teeth.
Noting the bald guy exiting the florist’s and heading their way, Gage strode quickly around the shop, randomly pulling items from the racks. “She’ll try these on.”
“Oh, no, I—”
“Bad guy at twelve o’clock,” he whispered in Roxanne’s ear. He hooked his arm around her waist and squeezed. “Dressing rooms?” he asked the clerk.
Still grinning, the man pointed to his left. “Back there.”
Gage headed over, pulling a reluctant Roxanne along.
“No, sir.” The little man hurried after them. “Only the lady can go back there.”
Gage waved a handful of lingerie in his direction. “I’m her tailor. I need to supervise the fit.” He urged Roxanne through a door, then behind a purple-curtained dressing room.
“Who’s out there?” she whispered.
Shaking his head, Gage hung the clothes on a hook. “How about this one, baby?” He held up a hot-pink teddy, held together on the sides only by strings.
Roxanne crossed her arms over her chest and mouthed “no way.”
Undaunted, Gage slid the outfit off its hanger. He didn’t think the goon had seen him, but he wasn’t taking any chances. They had to act like customers. Getting Roxanne undressed was just an added bonus. “Here you go,” he said as he held the garment out to her.
She sighed in disgust and snatched the outfit. “Turn around.”
“Hell, babe, I’ve seen—”
She made a circling motion with her finger.
The dressing room was small, so she had to brace her hand against his shoulder twice. He also hadn’t anticipated the added thrill of hearing a zipper sliding down, clothes dropping to the floor, fabric rustling against skin and her quiet but labored breathing throughout the process.
He fought the arousal stealing its way through his body. He should be able to control his reaction to her. He’d always been in full control of his body and mind before he met her. But she left him weak and trembling, and that confused, irritated and pleased him all at the same time.
“All set,” she finally announced.
He turned. His gaze caressed her, starting with her dark, curly hair falling past her shoulders and across one tanned breast. A breast barely covered by a scrap of pink satin, trimmed in lace, held up by a thin strap over her shoulder. The satin slid over her stomach, then, south of her belly button, the fabric became see-thro
ugh, communicating quite vividly that black wasn’t her natural hair color. His gaze pretty much froze right there.
“What do you think, sweetie?” she asked, smiling and cocking one hip.
“I, uh…” He shoved his hands in his pockets, clenching them into fists. He wanted to grab her. “It’s great. Wrong color, though.” He was already imagining it next to her pale skin and red hair. “How about the black one?”
Grumbling, she snatched that one off the hanger. He obligingly turned his back, and the process started all over again.
The black one was cotton, strapless and bared her stomach. Her hardened nipples poked against the fabric. Oh, man. The hip-hugger bottoms ended…
“Turn,” he said, trying to look contemplative instead of hungry.
She turned her back, and sweat exploded all over his body when he noticed the bottoms ended before they’d fully covered her bottom.
“Don’t you think this one’s great, sweetie?” she asked, turning, her smile strained. She was either just as aroused as him or about to punch his lights out.
“The silver one,” he choked out.
She huffed, and he faced the wall again, having no idea why he was torturing himself this way. Stephano’s goon was probably long gone, and he obviously hadn’t come into the store. All was quiet beyond the purple curtain. Roxanne probably thought he was a pervert.
The silver outfit was satin trimmed in sequins and boosted her breasts up so they were bared almost to her nipples. The bottoms were string bikini panties and also satin, riding just along her hipbones.
“Turn.”
“No.”
He met her gaze, noting her pupils were dilated, her cheeks flushed. She was aroused.
Okay, maybe this wasn’t helping his case any, but it sure was helping his seduction plans. Roxanne had a terrific body, but she wasn’t much for parading around the house in sexy underwear—not that she needed it to get his attention. Under normal circumstances she dressed elegantly and conservatively. But somehow these cheap, obvious clothes were getting to her. Maybe playing these roles excited her as much as him. Was the idea of being a bad girl a turn-on?
“Turn,” he said again, this time making sure his gaze was locked with hers. I dare you.
She glared, but she turned.
And, oh, what a view it was.
The silver panties became a thin line of sequins in the back, disappearing between—
He leaned sideways, and she whacked him on the arm.
“I think this is it, don’t you, dear?”
He straightened. “Oh, yeah.”
Then they stood there, staring at each other. Him, fully dressed. Her, looking like something out of the Frederick’s of Hollywood catalog. Him, needy and nearly desperate. Her…Well, he’d never know if he didn’t try.
He yanked her into his arms, groaning when her scantily clad body slithered against his. “I need you,” he confessed in a tight whisper.
She pressed her hips against him. “Gage, I—”
Before she could protest or think of a reason not to, he kissed her. He slid his tongue home. Against hers. Caressing hers.
He cupped the back of her neck with one hand, feeling the edge of her wig as he angled her head for deeper, better access. He tried to absorb her into him, desperate to show her how much her passion completed him. His other hand was wrapped tight around her waist, and the feel of her bare skin beneath his palm sent his own need soaring higher. His body pulsed.
With a groan, he backed her against the dressing-room wall. The old wood creaked, but Roxanne held on, her hands bracketing his waist.
Then he remembered the thong. He dropped his hands to her backside, cupping her cheeks in his palms, lifting her against the wall, pressing the juncture of her thighs against his hardness. The contact brought some relief while still managing to arouse him further.
She yanked his shirt from his pants and slid her hands beneath the fabric, rhythmically gliding her palms up and down his chest.
Desperate for air, he trailed his lips across her cheek, then down her jaw. “Rox,” he whispered against her neck, absorbing her scent into his soul. Would he ever get this close to her again? He’d managed to overwhelm her today because of the proximity they were forced into. When tomorrow came, she’d leave him. Forever. “I need—”
“Sit,” she gasped.
He immediately swung her around to the tiny bench along the back wall, kneeling in front of her as he again captured her mouth.
But she pulled back. Her eyes were wild with arousal as they met his gaze. “You sit.”
He sat beside her, holding tight to her waist, afraid to let go.
She dropped off the bench, kneeling on the floor between his knees.
Holy—
He stopped thinking as her gaze held his, and she lowered his zipper.
7
GAGE CONTINUED to hold his breath as Roxanne slid his belt buckle through the loops. She was a walking dream come true, but, dear Lord, he hadn’t expected anything like this.
He dropped his head back as her hand caressed the hard length of him. Gripping the edges of the bench, he fought the urge to climax. She always aroused him with ease, but after the stress of the last day and a half, his body begged for release. His muscles clenched to the point of pain.
Then, she slid her hand to the base of his erection, and her mouth replaced her hands.
“Oh, hell.”
He fought back a new, surging tide of arousal. He clamped his teeth together to keep his jaw from dropping. Roxanne didn’t—Roxanne wouldn’t—
Roxanne was.
Her agile tongue stroked him, her hot, wet mouth absorbed him. He fought desperately for control.
But he managed to keep his eyes open. No way was he missing the sight of her long dark hair—okay, admittedly, that was a little weird—bent over his lap, her hands kneading his thighs.
She dipped her tongue in the slit at the tip of his erection, and he moaned. He wasn’t sure how much more he could handle, though a lifetime of her touch just might be long enough.
His climax surged through him before he could grasp another thought.
He tossed his head back and relished the explosion and release. He wanted to freeze-frame every moment with her, trying not to wonder if each one would be the last.
The pulses of satisfaction beat through him, draining his body and mind. His heart continued to race. He gasped for air, to find stability in the spinning world, finally slumping against the wall behind him.
After several silent moments passed, she lifted her head. “Are we ever going to do this in a bed again?”
“Are we ever going to do this at the same time?”
They shared a smile, then he leaned forward, cupping her face gently as he kissed her. “You’re incredible.”
Her face flushed. “I, uh…Well, I’ve never done that before. I was okay?”
Immeasurably touched, he drew her into his arms. “The best.”
“I’m not doing a very good job of following my own rules,” she said against his chest.
“I was never much for rules myself.”
She threaded her fingers through his hair, wrapping his ponytail around her index finger. Despite the fact that they were in the dressing room of a tacky lingerie shop, she seemed disinclined to move. “Do you think this—” he assumed she meant the disguise “—is changing us?”
After years of undercover work, he’d wondered the same thing countless times. And, sometimes, he could no longer remember where the deception ended and he began. Was he corrupting Roxanne? Was he changing her? He didn’t think he wanted to, but neither could he deny how much he was enjoying the commanding, adventurous woman she’d become since this whole mess started.
“Do you think you’ve changed?” he asked, disturbed by his thoughts.
“Yes,” she said quickly, still staring at the ponytail, her fingers stroking its length. Then her green gaze connected with his. “I’m not as intimidated by y
ou as I was before.”
His heart gave him a good swift kick in the ribs for that. “I intimidated you?”
“I never could figure out what you were doing with me.”
“What?”
“You could have any woman—”
He laid his finger over her lips. “Don’t say that again. Dammit, R—” He stopped, just remembering in time not to use her real name. “You’re the greatest, purest thing in my life,” he said, gripping her shoulders, keeping his voice quiet. “I don’t want, will never want anyone else.”
“Then why did you lie to me?”
He closed his eyes, the hurt and accusation in her eyes too much to deal with. He finally opened them again, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “I was trying to protect you.”
“Would you ever have told me?”
He hadn’t really thought that far ahead. He’d been so sure he could keep both his lives separate. But she deserved his honesty now. “I don’t know.”
Her eyes angry, she pressed her lips together. “Will you do me a favor?”
“I’ll try.”
“No more lies. From this moment on, whatever happens, you’ll tell me the truth.”
In his business, making a pledge like that was impossible. He couldn’t betray Treasury Department confidences. He couldn’t always tell her where he was, or where he would be, or what he’d be doing. But he also realized she was challenging him, testing him. Me or the job. Which is more important?
He didn’t like the thought of having his back against the wall, and he certainly didn’t know if he could keep his promise, but he made it anyway. “The truth, from now on.”
She slid her arms around his waist, hugging him tight. “Thank you.”
“Uh, ’scuse me, Mr. Tailor?” a voice called from the other side of the curtain.
Gage sighed. The real world intrudes. “Yes?”
“Are you ready to buy now?”
Gage rearranged his clothing and stood, finding his knees still a bit unsteady, while Roxanne changed back into her clothes. Oddly enough, he felt as if they’d turned a corner. Though where it would lead, or when the next sharp curve would suddenly appear, he had no idea.
Private Lies Page 9
