Into Temptation

by Jeanie London

  Lindy did as instructed, surprised to find her agitation fading. Maybe she just felt better not being alone.

  The woman’s name was Nanon, and she’d owned this pension since before the war when her husband had gone off to fight for the Resistance and wanted to leave her some source of income in the event he didn’t return.

  But he had come home and lived to a ripe old age before closing his eyes in his favorite chair and not opening them again. As that night didn’t sound as if it had happened too long ago, Lindy thought loneliness might explain Nanon’s predilection for inviting strangers to tea.

  “What did you fight about?” Nanon brought the cups to the table and set one in front of Lindy.

  The old dear had obviously forgotten Lindy’s earlier denial, or maybe she just assumed that dealing with a man meant a fight. After so many years of marriage, she was likely the authority. Either way, she looked so hopeful that Lindy decided to go with it.

  “We’re at cross-purposes,” she said. “He made choices about some things, and I made choices. I don’t see a resolution.”

  “Ah, those men always think they know best when they should know to listen to their women.”

  No argument there. They were the target of a hit, and instead of discussing the situation rationally, Joshua had run off and left her to fend for herself.

  Not that she minded fending for herself, of course, but she minded that he hadn’t even consulted her, had assumed he knew best. The man had practically patted her head and told her to run along home.

  “He was very high-handed, really,” Lindy admitted. “Never even asked what I wanted, just took charge of the situation and barreled off to do things his way.”

  The kettle whistled, and Nanon lifted it from the burner and carried it to the table. “High-handed, oui. Probably never occurred to him that you might know better. Women usually do.”

  Lindy laughed. “Agreed.”

  Dunking the tea bag in the steaming water, she considered where Joshua might go and how he would get there. To Renouf’s stronghold in Spain to buy his way out of a hit?

  It was hard to say, since Joshua had all the information on Renouf. Would it have killed him to share some, just enough to make sure she steered clear of the man on the way back home?

  Nanon returned the kettle to the stove then sat across from Lindy. She settled the tea bag in her cup with a hand made unsteady by age. “Your young man is very handsome.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Have you been together long?”

  “No.”

  Nanon seemed to consider that, unsure what sage advice to offer. She finally raised her cup in salute. “The handsome ones are always trouble. Remember that. They strut like roosters, thinking they can have any hen in the house.”

  Lindy only nodded. If she were a hen to Joshua’s rooster, then there was no denying that he’d strutted into her life and helped himself.

  They sipped their tea in silence for a few minutes, only the street noise filtering in through the open window.

  “Does your young man love you as much as you love him?” Nanon asked.

  Lindy winced. She lusted after Joshua. Figuratively and literally. Enough to make some seriously ill-advised choices to get him to confess what he knew about Renouf.

  To get her hands all over his dishy self.

  “Love, Nanon? What makes you think I love him?”

  That bright gaze twinkled. “It’s all over you.”

  Lindy gulped more tea to avoid correcting her hostess. Obviously the old dear needed something more interesting to do than polish her furniture.

  But love?

  Lindy didn’t love Joshua any more than he loved her. They were attracted to each other. And challenged. And well-matched, aside from a few obvious differences.

  Their views about the law for starters.

  But love?

  The man had seduced her with yummy orgasms then abandoned her without a backward glance.

  But he hadn’t sacrificed her to the Italian authorities in Venice, an unbidden voice inside her head reminded.

  And he hadn’t let her get shot on a pier in Monte Carlo.

  He hadn’t blackmailed her, either. Instead, he’d admitted to knowing her real identity.

  Why would he admit to knowing her real identity?

  Lindy stared into her teacup, recalling the man who’d stood on a street corner in Vienna, watching her drive away in a taxi.

  Why would that man leave her on the docks in Marseille to make her way back to London alone?

  Unless he didn’t think she needed protection.

  That thought came at Lindy sideways.

  After dodging bullets together in Monte Carlo, why wouldn’t he think she needed protection?

  “Exactly what does love look like?” Lindy tried not to sound cynical, didn’t think she’d managed it.

  “Ah, l’amour.” Nanon heaved a dramatic sigh. “It makes you rush around looking frantic and asking strangers if they have seen your man.”

  “Hmph.” The old lady didn’t have a clue, Lindy thought mutinously. She was an agent of the British Crown, and Joshua a target who had given her the slip.

  But why had he given her the slip? Had he thought she’d be safer without him?

  Lindy remembered the man who’d stood on a rainy rooftop, fishing a condom out of his wallet to save them both.

  “Nanon, can you fall in love with a man and not know you’re in love?”

  “Can you jump off a cliff and not know you’re falling? Only if you’re a fool. Are you a fool?”

  Lindy remembered a night in a barn and the urgency she’d felt to rattle Joshua’s self control, to prove she wasn’t the only one who couldn’t resist temptation.

  While she might be a lot of things, reckless and ruthless among them, Lindy had never been a fool.

  “How can I fall in love with a man who’s all wrong for me?”

  Nanon’s laughter filled the kitchen, a sound that made the place feel alive for the first time, a sound that hinted at the many years of life that must have happened here, years filled with love and laughter.

  “The French know about true love. You are not French, so I will tell you.” She set her cup down on the saucer with a rattle. “True love doesn’t know right or wrong. True love only knows the heart. One heart recognizes another. It doesn’t matter if two people are friends or enemies. It doesn’t matter if two people can be together or not.”

  The wistful expression on Nanon’s face made Lindy think she might be remembering the years she’d spent apart from her husband, separated by the war, by death.

  “True love is never, ever easy. How can it be when you’re in love with a man?”

  “How do you know, Nanon? I mean really know.”

  She sighed and clasped her withered hands over her heart. “True love makes you mad with passion. True love makes you throw caution to the wind. True love makes you risk yourself and sacrifice everything to protect your lover.”

  Bloody hell.

  Lindy suddenly knew. And, no, it wasn’t easy. Not even when she realized that she wasn’t the only one to throw caution to the wind.

  “DON’T EVEN TALK to me, Gardner,” Blythe told Lindy. “You’re persona non gratis around here.”

  The display went blank before Malcolm’s scowl appeared.

  “Lindy, nice of you to drop in.” His tone cut across the distance between London and Marseille like a slap. “I’ve heard you’re not meowing anymore. Care to elaborate?”

  Not really. Staring at the display, she mentally steeled herself to throw caution to the wind, to hand her career to Malcolm on the proverbial platter. “I’ve gone balls-up.”

  “Define that.”

  “I gambled and lost.”

  She explained how Joshua had uncovered her alias and how Renouf had drawn her connection to SIS and sent a hit man. She left huge blank spots where anything about mad passion and true love might fit in. She simply couldn’t admit aloud that sh
e’d fallen for her target. Malcolm’s darkening expression assured her she didn’t need to—he was filling in the blanks quite nicely without help.

  “I think Joshua offered Renouf the White Star in exchange for calling off the hit on me.”

  “Let me get this straight.” Malcolm sounded strained, as if she’d unwillingly dragged him inside a telly serial. “You think your target is going to Renouf to use the White Star as leverage to protect the agent who’s trying to bring him in? Did I get that right?”

  Lindy let her eyes flutter shut, a moment’s respite from that accusing, incredulous stare. Her gut reassured her that she wasn’t the only one who’d fallen in love. “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Do you think Renouf will go for that trade?”

  “He wants the White Star. I think he’ll agree to the trade then eliminate Joshua once he gets it.”

  “Which still leaves a hit on you.” Not a question. “I’m bringing you in.”

  “No.” She delivered the word simply, but there was nothing simple about arguing with a direct order, as Malcolm’s thunderous expression proved. “Please listen to me. I need to track down Joshua. I’m sure he’s going to meet with Renouf.”

  “What makes you think Renouf will meet with him? What makes you think Renouf will leave his stronghold in Spain when he could send someone to make the pickup instead?”

  “When I made contact with Joshua in New York City, I compromised his position. Renouf wants the White Star, and Joshua knew he might need leverage. That’s why he kept it all this time and didn’t make the delivery.”

  “He told you that?”

  “No, but I know that’s why. Trust me. I’ve been studying this bloke up close.” Seriously close. “I’m right.”

  “So you think Joshua will force Renouf into the open because it’s his only chance to make the trade and get away?”

  Lindy shook her head. “Joshua won’t be able to get away. He knows that. Renouf will eliminate him the instant he has the White Star.”

  “Then why force him into the open?”

  “To give us a chance to catch him. If we’ve got Renouf in custody, there will be no one to fund the hit. I’ll be safe.”

  Lindy forced herself to hold Malcolm’s gaze as a silence fell between them so heavy it almost hurt. All the implications of her words passed between them, carrying even more weight because they remained unspoken.

  Malcolm had trained her. He’d commanded her. He’d indulged her. He’d trusted her. He’d kept her in the field knowing she’d wanted to run her own ops. She’d had a love-hate relationship with him for over a decade. Above all, Malcolm knew her. He knew everything she wasn’t saying.

  And he didn’t make her say it.

  In that moment, no matter how many times he’d sidestepped her request to run her own ops with lateral job moves, no matter how many times he’d questioned her judgment, Lindy only felt grateful that he didn’t make her admit she’d been so unprofessional as to let her heart get mixed up with a target.

  He knew, of course, but he didn’t make her admit it aloud. That was a show of respect.

  “I suppose you want to interfere?”

  Lindy heard the sigh in his voice and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  Malcolm’s dark gaze caught hers, searched inside places only he knew to look. His gaze promised her hell to pay, after they’d finished the job.

  That was Malcolm Trent, ever professional.

  “You’re not working alone on this,” he said. “I’m sending in backup.”

  This time Lindy didn’t argue.

  Paris, where priceless objets d’art and centuries of legend fill the elegant George V, a palace hotel that inspires lovers to throw caution to the wind.

  THE CITY OF LIGHTS had always been one of Joshua’s favorites. Whenever visiting Paris he stayed in this legendary palace hotel that Henri had introduced him to over a decade ago.

  In the superb Parisian fashion of lavish opulence, Henri’s favored suite was not only the best in the house, but quite possibly the most elegant in all the chic Eighth Arrondissement.

  The two-level suite took up the top floors of the hotel. A generous front entrance foyer and a spacious salon made this an impressive and comfortable place to conduct business on Henri’s rare trips out of his stronghold in Spain. From several private terraces, he enjoyed an incredible view of the city skyline, including Saint Louis des Invalides, the Panthéon, Charles Garnier’s Opera House and the Grand Palais.

  Until this visit, Joshua would have exited the elevator and walked up to the bodyguards flanking the door, exchanged greetings then headed inside to visit the guest within. But today those bodyguards—Henri’s private stock—took one look at him and went on red alert. One casually lifted his jacket enough to reveal a sidearm.

  Joshua submitted to a weapons search without conversation.

  “You’re clear.” The guard opened the door while the other stepped inside to announce him, these formalities driving home how far from grace Joshua had fallen.

  He moved inside the suite, through the impeccably appointed foyer where a gilt antique mirror reflected the room beyond and made him a visual target of the man who reigned over the lavish surroundings as a king might sit upon a throne.

  Or a spider in his web.

  A short man in his sixties, Henri was dark, well-groomed whether socializing or at leisure. The wingback chair he sat in had been positioned to maximum effect between the sweeping windows while mastering the view of the suite.

  With a flair for drama that was as much responsible for his fearsome reputation as any ruthless business he’d conducted, Henri sat in his custom-tailored suit, watching his guest’s arrival with an implacable, proud manner that commanded the power both to intimidate and to impress.

  As Joshua had never been easily intimidated…

  Their gazes met across the distance, Henri’s gaze cool, almost remote. Joshua met that stare evenly as he moved inside. He’d never dissembled with the man and wouldn’t start now.

  “Henri, you look well.”

  “You disappoint me,” Henri said.

  Joshua hadn’t expected to feel anything, but supposed he should have. Henri had been a mentor of sorts, one in a long line over a career that had raised him from a forgettable life to one of indulgence.

  In business, Henri possessed many qualities to emulate. He’d hewn a vast empire of holdings over decades, but his initial rapid-fire rise to the top made him seem to emerge in the international business arena before people had even realized he was a man to watch.

  His own origins were veiled in secrecy, lending to the mystery surrounding him. Joshua had long held the opinion that Henri’s rise in power wasn’t unlike his own—Henri had started far from where he’d wound up. A phoenix rising from the ashes. Whatever those origins, Henri’s ruthless reputation fueled a success that made his a name to fear worldwide.

  Once, Joshua had been proud to have earned this man’s trust and respect.

  Definitely impressionable.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, Henri. Especially since you don’t understand the situation.”

  “Excuses? That’s not like you.”

  “No excuses. Just fact.”

  Until this visit, Joshua would have been offered a glass of Henri’s preferred cognac and an imported cigar. They would have exchanged pleasantries and slowly settled in to discuss business.

  “Fact,” Henri finally said. “The only fact I have is that what you told me is a lie. We’ve worked together for years. I respected you and believed I held your respect in return. So tell me why you would betray me now. Surely I deserve some explanation.”

  “It’s called life. Sometimes unexpected things come up. I couldn’t deliver the White Star safely. I asked you to trust me for a few days while I took care of the situation. I even passed along Mit Vergnügen! as a show of faith and this…”

  Withdrawing a jewel case from inside his jacket pocket that contained a CD on to
which he’d burned the Santa Lucia survey photos, Joshua set it on the coffee table between them. “We discussed acquiring this church survey some time ago, Henri. I took the liberty of acquiring it when I was in Venice.”

  He had Henri’s complete attention, and paused for effect before saying, “For the record, I’d hold off on trying to acquire the San Gabriel from London. I have it on good authority British Intelligence has the residence under surveillance.”

  “Very good authority.” Henri almost smiled. Almost. “You have been busy.”

  Joshua inclined his head.

  “The White Star?”

  “I have it.”

  The silence grew between them, Henri reevaluating and Joshua gladly giving him time to draw his own conclusions.

  Finally, Henri spread his hands in entreaty. “You were keeping company with a woman I discovered to be an MI6 agent, Joshua. What was I supposed to think?”

  “Here’s where our trouble starts. No trust. I couldn’t tell you I’d been targeted by a British agent—”

  “You should have told me. I have far greater resources than you do. I could have handled the situation.”

  Joshua couldn’t keep from smiling. “You would have considered me compromised and sent a hit man after me and the agent so I wouldn’t compromise you.”

  Henri had the grace not to deny the charge, which was another of those qualities Joshua had once admired—honesty. Henri waved a dismissive hand. “So you think I should have given you the benefit of the doubt? Even knowing you weren’t being honest? Not to mention that the trouble I sent you to fix was with a man who tried to keep me from the White Star?”

  “In America we call it being between a rock and a hard place. I didn’t have many choices. I went for damage control. I reassured you, then hoped for the best.”

  That earned a smile. “Where is it?”

  He produced the box from his pocket and slid the amulet into his palm.

  Joshua remembered the first time he’d handled the piece, the odd pulsing he’d attributed to adrenaline. The feeling was curiously absent now. He couldn’t help but wonder about the curse, whether there might be something to it after all. He’d touched this amulet and Lindy had appeared.