His lips met hers in a gentle caress, a mere brush of flesh on flesh. She wanted to moisten her lips, to dip her tongue out in search of his. The feel of his lips moving on hers made her heart thud. He dipped her back, her spine arching over his strong arm, her head spinning. His probing tongue nudged her lips apart and she felt consumed by the joy of sharing such an intimate pleasure with him.
Oh, God, it would be so easy to forget what had happened between them, to allow him to sweep her back to that loving time they'd shared. It would be so easy to forget a lot of things. Like the reason why she couldn't fall in love with Frank. Like the fact that she had an important job to do—and a cover to protect. Loving Frank would get in the way.
Not only that, Frank would be hurt. Again. Because in the end, she'd have to walk away.
Anyway, Frank wasn't kissing her out of love. He was trying to prove something to her. That he could do his job. That he could convince other people he was in love with her—even though it wasn't true. She'd better make darned sure she remembered that.
As though he sensed her withdrawal, he drew her upright and their lips parted. When she looked into his eyes, she saw that the ice had splintered into fragments of emotions. Pain. Anger. Confusion. Desire. Each one sharply felt.
"Still think I'll have a problem convincing people?" His voice, soft and sure, contrasted with the chaos in his eyes.
She pushed away from him. "There's more to loving than a kiss, Frank."
"I know."
His gaze slid down to her breasts, a wicked grin curling his mouth. Could he hear the frantic beating of her heart? She folded her arms across her chest and scowled. "I'm talking about love, not love-making."
His grin faded, transforming the mischievous rogue into a business-like professional. "It can work if it's handled properly," he assured her. "After all, I did fall in love with you…once." His voice was tinged with bitterness.
"You really think you can carry it off?" She wasn't so sure. He could drive her crazy with his kisses, but he could barely carry on a civil conversation with her for more than five minutes.
"I'm a professional, too, Angel. I can act the part required of me."
That's all it would be, she knew. An act. It shouldn't hurt this much to know she'd driven him away so successfully, she'd made him hate her so thoroughly, that he'd never even like her again, let alone love her. She needed to keep him at a distance, to ensure that he didn't endanger her way of life. She couldn't get involved with anyone who might interfere with her cover.
This was the best, for him as well as her. If he were to fall in love with her, to want her the way he had four years ago, then she'd only break his heart again—because she'd never give up being Angela Tortina. And that meant never being able to live a normal life, with a husband and a family. With a man she could love.
The best thing would be to keep the discussion on a business level.
She grabbed the flowered cushion beside her and distractedly wrung at the corner of it. "What's your background story?"
He tugged an envelope out of his jacket pocket and tossed it on the coffee table. "Read this over later. It provides the details, but basically my name is Frank Marino. You and I knew each other as children." He paced back and forth as he explained. "I arrived in town a few days ago, saw you on the street, recognized you. Our little rendez-vous last night would work for that. We'll go out a few times and fall in love." He shrugged. "Simple enough."
"You think they'll believe I'd fall in love with a man in a couple of weeks and be willing to get married? Just like that?"
"Why not? It can happen in real life." He stopped pacing. "It happened to me in Hawaii."
Their gazes connected, evoking the memory of his heartfelt proposal—after they'd known each other for only three weeks. He'd wanted to marry her even though he'd thought she was involved with the mob—because he'd fallen in love with her. He would have protected her and cared for her. Somehow, she knew he would have accepted her even if she'd been involved in the dirty side of the business. He would have found a way of converting her.
He would have forgiven her being a criminal. But he could not forgive her for putting her cover ahead of his safety. For putting her job ahead of him.
Angel glanced away. "What I don't understand is, why did they bring you onto this case?"
"You haven't been able to solve it on your own."
Resentment welled up in her. "I need more time!" She knew how important it was to solve this case, but at the same time, she had to be careful. She couldn't pry too much without drawing suspicion onto herself. Her cover had to be protected. She'd worked too long and too hard to blow it now.
"You've had enough time. You, of all people, should want this mess cleared up as soon as possible. Your cover is in danger. I can't believe it hasn't been blown yet."
"Hal is the only one in the office who knows about me. Some of the higher-ups know of my existence, but not who I am. Hal can refuse to divulge my identity to anyone, even under direct orders."
"And you trust this guy Hal?"
"With my life."
"That's what it might come down to," he muttered.
Frank had stirred up her deepest insecurities. Late at night when she lay alone in her bed, she often thought about the fact that her fate was so vulnerable to the actions of others. What if Hal ever let her name slip to the wrong person? What if policies changed in the Bureau and someone got access to her file who shouldn't? What if she ever ran into someone who recognized her from high school? Sweeping them aside, she concentrated on the more pressing question facing her. "So what do they think you can do that I can't?"
"We need someone who can get access to information you can't."
She planted her hands on her hips, frowning. "And just how do you think you can do that? I'm part of their operation. If I can't get it—"
"Because I'm going to become part of their operation, too. Through you. They trust you. If we're married—"
"Just because you marry me, doesn't mean they'll necessarily trust you."
"Once I talk to Vendetti, I'll be able to convince him to hire me. You work in the office, but I intend to get involved in some of the operations directly."
"Yeah. How?" She didn't even try to keep the skepticism from her voice.
"You don't need to know that."
She shot to her feet and glared at him. "What do you mean I don't need to know? We're partners, remember? This is my case, too. You may not like me or my methods, Frank, but I am an agent. Don't forget that."
"And don't you forget it! This information is on a need-to-know basis. And you don't need to know."
His sharp blue glare pierced her bubble of indignation. He was right. She was a professional and if their superiors decided she didn't need to know something, she had to accept that.
She sank back into her chair. There could be any number of reasons why they wouldn't tell her. It was always easier to be unaware of a fact than to act unaware.
"I see." Another disturbing thought wiggled its way through her consciousness. "And why…" She cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the lump that had formed. "Why are you the one to decide?"
He had the decency to look apologetic. "Because, Angel," he responded, his voice quiet. "I'm the senior agent on this case."
"So you're in charge?" She sat still for a few moments, chewing the inside of her lip, letting that information sink in. She'd never had to answer to anyone on a day-to-day basis. Not in her real job, anyway. Carlos set her tasks in the office, but the more important work—her work uncovering and reporting information on mob activities—ran totally under her own discretion. Following orders from anyone would be difficult, but from Frank?
Too many things were changing too quickly. She gripped the armrests tightly. Her life seemed to be spinning out of control and she felt dizzy. She wanted life to slow down, to give her time to breathe.
"I need to know how quickly we can get married."
She glared at
him resentfully. "You're the boss. Isn't that your decision?"
"You're the expert, Angel."
Immediately, she felt contrite. Where had her declared professionalism gone?
"I'm sorry, Frank. I'm just…not used to working with someone."
"You'd better get used to it."
She took a deep breath, holding back the sharp retort that leaped to mind. "We'll have to proceed carefully. It'll take time."
"We don't have much time."
"Then we'll have to make time!" she snapped.
He crossed his arms, impatience showing in the tight set of his jaw. "How long, Angel? Before the wedding can take place."
She directed her eyes to the philodendron reaching up over Frank, wishing it would reach down and strangle him.
Think about the answer to his question.
The plant blurred as her gaze drifted out of focus. She thought about other couples who'd gotten engaged, remembering the malicious gossip when one couple had acted too quickly. The family had old-fashioned ideas about love and courtship.
"Two months—"
"Two months before the wedding?" Frank demanded.
"No," she shifted her gaze and focused on him. "Two months of dating before we can announce an engagement, then—"
"We can't wait that long."
She released a burst of air from her lungs. "We'll have to. Anything sooner would draw too much attention. No one would believe—"
"Damn it." His fist connected with the arm of the love seat in a dull thump. "If it means we have to endanger your cover, so be it."
A raging anger blazed through her. Angel clenched her fingers around the cushion lying on her lap, tightening them until she thought they would snap. He might have seniority, but…. "Who are you to decide that?" she demanded.
"I'm the one they've brought in to make sure the job gets done."
His tight response acted like a slap across her face. She'd been working on this case for six months, ever since the Bureau first realized there was an informant—and she'd gotten nowhere. Did the powers-that-be think her incompetent? And did they really deem her cover expendable? Well, if the first was true…
She felt the anger seep out of her, replaced by a cold numbness. Her cover was her life. She'd been Angela Tortina for so long, she didn't know how to be anyone else. Her hands, suddenly weak, released the cushion and it slipped off her lap onto the floor.
Frank had matched her sharp retort in kind, but when he saw her face drain of colour he felt guilty. He went on more softly. "Hal feels we have to wrap this thing up as soon as possible. I'm sorry, Angel, but that means your cover isn't our prime concern."
She was already far too pale. Now her eyes glistened and her lip quivered slightly. That full bottom lip that felt so good against his own. Christ, he wanted to pull her into his arms and whisper soothing words. To stroke her hair and tell her everything would be all right.
What a fool! Nothing would be all right. If Angel was the informant, he'd have her put away.
And what if she isn't? a nagging voice in the back of his mind queried. What if she's innocent?
Innocent? He had once thought that—had once believed she was as sweet and vulnerable as she looked—but he had learned better. The hard way. He pushed away his doubts, along with his protective urges.
"Given that you're part of the family, they shouldn't suspect anything. Hal said you've proven yourself to them time and again. We just have to ensure they accept me long enough to get through the con."
"But, I've worked so long… My cover is…" She shook her head as though trying to clear it.
Try as he might, he couldn't remain indifferent to her. No matter what she'd done—what she was—right now she hurt and he couldn't help his response to her pain.
"When's the soonest we can do the wedding, Angel?" Frank asked gently, clutching the arms of his chair to stop himself from reaching out and touching her.
"What?" she asked, then snapped out of her stupor. "Oh. Well, I guess we could pull it off in about a month. But there'll be a lot of questions asked."
Neither spoke for a few moments, then she started speaking rapidly. "You know, the Bureau shouldn't have to pull me out. Once it's over, we could make it look like you duped me and then deserted me or, better yet, we could simulate your death so I'd be a widow. Then I could carry on in my role. I—"
Frank held his hands up to stop her verbal overflow. "Whoa, Angel. Slow down." He leaned forward and took her hand. "It's clear how you feel about your cover, but face it. It's time for you to move on, to get on with your own life."
"No. I can't." Pain quivered in her voice. "I've worked too hard to get in. I've worked for too many years to get where I am."
"Angel." Frank placed a hand on her shoulder and she glared at it, then at him, pure venom in her eyes. He knew she blamed him for this. "You know the department will help you get reoriented. You won't be alone." His voice softened. He couldn't help adding, "If I can do anything…"
She jumped to her feet, tossing his hand aside. "Don't worry, you'll be doing something, all right." Her words came out in a controlled roar. "You may accept that my cover will be dead, but I don't. I intend to work this so I stay exactly where I am."
His gaze narrowed on her flushed face. Her vehemence told him clearly she would not give up her cover without a fight, yet a trained field agent would accept the end of her undercover stint with grace. In fact, she should be happy to get out. After all, what honest person, especially one dedicated to stamping out crime, would want to live the kind of life she did. Associating with criminals and killers every day. Of course, that was the whole point. No honest person would.
She glared at him, clenched fists held tightly at her sides, as though she had to stop herself from punching him. "And once this is all over, you'll be the one paying."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean alimony. Don't you understand how I operate yet, O'Connor? I don't chance anything." She started pacing back and forth in front of him. "Like using a fake priest or filing a false marriage certificate. You'd be surprised where the family has people." She waved one hand at her side. "City hall is small potatoes and there'll be enough interest in our union to have people keeping their eyes open wide for any discrepancies." She stopped pacing and placed her fists on her hips. "If our cover says you and I get married, then we get married. For real." She started pacing again. "And then I'm going to continue in my cover. I'll make sure of that. You and I will get divorced, and when we do, they'll expect me to soak you for everything I can get!" She glared at him. "And believe me, that will be a real pleasure."
A small surge of excitement thrilled him as he watched her, both because of the blaze of angry passion in her words, making her glow with energy, and because of the thought of actually being married to her—and all that implied.
Seeing the glint in his eye, she stomped away. "Don't worry, O'Connor. It'll be a marriage in public only, I assure you!" With that she swung open the door to her entranceway. "Now, I suggest you leave."
* * *
"Yo, Angie."
As Angel descended the stairs from Vendetti's office building, she turned to see Dino Fontaine, one of Vendetti's most trusted men, watching her from the sidewalk.
"Dino. How are you?" She hurried over to greet him.
Dino put his hand on her elbow. "You wanna lift home?"
She sighed inwardly, much preferring to take the bus, but an undercover job went far beyond the nine-to-five office work she did for Vendetti. A good undercover agent takes advantage of every opportunity to gain information. Dino knew a lot of interesting things. "I'd love one, Dino. Thanks."
He placed his hand on the small of her back as he guided her to his car a half block down. She stopped her spine from stiffening in response. Dino unlocked the door of his black Corvette and helped her inside, then climbed in himself. He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. Glancing over his left shoulder, he watched for an openi
ng to pull out into traffic. Soon they were on their way, moving along with the current of cars.
"Angie, I saw you coming out of the FBI office yesterday. What's up?"
He spoke evenly, with no implied threat, but her pulse leaped. She forced her breathing to remain steady and reminded herself of her cover story. She always had a cover story when she went into the FBI office—but this was the first time she'd had to use it.
"The Feds brought me in for routine questioning." She imbued her voice with indignation. "That's what they call it anyway. I call it harassment."
His finger flicked on the left signal and he peered intently in his side mirror, ready to change lanes.
"What was it all about?" His question came out matter-of-fact, but she noticed the tight set of his jaw.
"I don't know," she said, her voice sedate. "They asked a lot of questions about Carlos, but nothing specific, you know? I have no idea what they're on to."
His jaw relaxed. "I'll let Carlos know so he can be on guard."
"Do you think? I don't know what they know and—" She knew that playing the dumb broad around Dino was her best tactic. Dino was one of those macho guys who thought woman were only good for taking to bed. He acknowledged her basic usefulness for menial work around the office, but didn't really believe she owned a brain. She hated to fuel his skewed view of women, but it gave her an edge—and she'd take every advantage she could get.
"Angie, if the Feds suspect something, Carlos needs to be told. He might want to tighten up security on some of his operations, you know?"
"I guess you're right."
Had he seen Frank, too? No, that didn't make sense. She'd left the office alone and, from the looks of Frank in his wrinkled tuxedo pants and shirt, and the growth of beard on his face, she was certain he'd returned to the sanctity of FBI headquarters immediately after seeing her at the hotel—that's what she would have done had their positions been reversed—so Dino wouldn't have seen him enter the building. She stared at the traffic in front of them. Dino would be meeting Frank as her fiancé all too soon and she couldn't afford to have him recognize Frank as an FBI agent.
Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers Page 103
