“It’s not going to,” Lia murmured. “It’s supposed to be like this all day.”
“Think the electricity will go out?”
She shook her head. “They’ve got backup generators. Why? Are you afraid of the dark?” she teased.
“Not exactly,” Armand said with a low chuckle. He could think of far worse fates than being trapped alone in a dark cabin with the sexy, beautiful woman of his dreams. “Are you afraid of the dark?”
Lia smiled, her eyes still closed. “That’s what candles are for. And I—Ohh, that feels so good,” she said on a soft, husky moan of pleasure.
Blood rushed straight to Armand’s groin. Damn, he thought grimly. Maybe giving Lia a massage wasn’t exactly the best way to avoid temptation, as he’d recently vowed to do.
After last night’s harrowing dream, followed by the emotional meeting with his family that morning, Armand had decided it was time to revert to what he called “soldier mode.” He’d spent the last two years in this state of mind, so focused on surviving and anticipating his enemy’s next move that he learned to ignore the demands of his body for food, sleep, even sex. Especially sex. Of course, it was easier not to think about your neglected libido when you were stuck out in the middle of the jungle with a bunch of unwashed roughnecks, as he’d affectionately called his men.
Armand was so preoccupied by his thoughts that he didn’t even realize his fingers had stilled on Lia’s neck—except for his thumb, which idly stroked her silken skin—until she glanced back curiously at him.
He reluctantly dropped his hand, flashing a small smile. “There. That should do the trick.”
“Mmm, thanks. That was wonderful.” As she unfolded her long legs and rose from the sofa, his gaze was drawn to the way her gray jogging pants molded to the lush roundness of her bottom. As she arched her back, stretching her muscles with a contented purr, he felt another sharp jab of lust to his groin.
“I didn’t realize how much tension I was carrying around in my body,” Lia murmured.
I know the feeling, Armand mused, painfully aware of the straining at his zipper. He thought about Tiffany, who’d repeatedly pressed her voluptuous body against his and whispered things in his ear that would make a porn director blush. Armand had been nowhere near as turned on by her as he was now, watching Lia engage in something as innocent as stretching.
Maybe soldier mode could wait another day or two.
When she bent down to retrieve her laptop, her cotton pants stretched snug across her bottom. It took every ounce of will-power Armand possessed not to get up, grab her around the waist and grind his aching erection against her tight buttocks. He imagined her moaning softly and rolling her hips, slow and sensual, urging him closer—
“Since it appears that we’re going to be trapped indoors all day,” Lia said, interrupting his erotic fantasy as she knelt in front of the sofa, “I thought we could play cards or a few board games to help pass the time.”
Or how about I carry you into my bedroom and make love to you long and hard into tomorrow morning?
Lia, who’d brushed against his arm as she removed the sofa cushion beside him, glanced up sharply, as if she’d read his mind. Thank God that was impossible.
“Did you say something?” she asked suspiciously.
Armand schooled his features into a blank mask. “No. I was going to say your suggestion sounds good—the games.” He paused. “What are you looking for?”
“My thumb drive,” she muttered irritably. “It came unplugged from my laptop when you scared me earlier, and now I can’t find it. Could you get up for a second so I can check under your cushion?”
Armand complied, then stood watching as she searched the sofa, then checked the floor underneath.
“Aha! Found it.” When she popped up triumphantly, her face was eye-level with his crotch—where, as it turned out, he was still nursing a monster of an erection.
Armand saw the exact moment Lia noticed his predicament. Her eyes widened a fraction, her lips parted soundlessly and a deep flush spread across her cheekbones.
As he stood there, air stalled in his lungs, holding himself so rigid his muscles ached, she lifted her gaze slowly to his face. He was prepared to see embarrassment, censure, even disgust reflected in her expression.
He didn’t expect to see desire. Raw, naked desire.
His heart began to bang hard against his rib cage, the rhythm echoing in a hot, heavy pulse between his legs.
“Lia—” His voice was rough, hoarse with arousal.
He should have kept his damn mouth shut.
Her sooty lashes fluttered, and she blinked as if she were emerging from a deep trance. Jerking her eyes away, she got to her feet and quickly stepped away from him.
An all too familiar wave of frustration swept through him.
She cleared her throat briskly. “I, uh, need to go put away my computer. W-we can pick a game to play when I get back.”
As Armand watched her hurry from the room with her computer tucked beneath one arm, he thought, I’ve got a suggestion for you, Lia. How about we play hide and seek? You hide, and I’ll seek. And when I find you, I get to do whatever I want with you.
When Lia returned to the living room several minutes later, Armand had built a fire, dimmed the lights on the high ceiling beams and draped a thick, knitted afghan across the back of the sofa, where he sat waiting for her. The scene was so cozy and inviting that Lia faltered for a moment, debating whether to proceed or run back to her room to hide out there for the rest of the day. Deciding that she’d done enough running over the past five days to last her a lifetime, she drew a deep, steadying breath and forced herself to continue moving forward.
“It’s going to be a little hard to see the board game with the lights turned so low,” she said, striving to make her voice sound as normal as possible. The last thing she wanted him to know was that the idea of being alone in a dimly lit room with him struck terror in her heart.
As he watched her walk toward him with a look of lazy masculine appreciation, Lia wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Surely he couldn’t find her remotely appealing in her plain white T-shirt and gray sweatpants, with her hair scraped back into its usual ponytail and her face scrubbed clean of makeup. Yet something had definitely turned him on earlier. She’d seen the unmistakable proof of his arousal—seen it, and felt an answering hunger deep in the pit of her stomach. In a moment of sheer insanity she’d been tempted, so damn tempted, to reach up and unzip his jeans and take his thick, throbbing erection in her hand. Her mouth had literally watered at the tantalizing image.
“I thought we could watch a movie first,” Magliore said as Lia reached the sofa. “If that’s all right with you?”
“A movie? Um, yeah, sure.” She supposed that was safe enough. They could sit next to each other like two strangers in a dark theater; for at least two hours, they wouldn’t even have to talk or interact with each other.
“Let me see what kind of selection we have.” She walked over to the pine entertainment center that was built into the brick wall. Beneath the big-screen television set were several rows of shelves containing a wide range of DVD movies, from old classics to current blockbusters in just about every genre—action, animation, drama, suspense, horror, romance, westerns, comedy. There were even a few blaxploitation films, she noted with a soft chuckle.
“What are you in the mood for?” she asked.
Believe me, you don’t want to know.
Lia froze, then snapped her head around to stare at Magliore. But instead of looking at her, he was gazing out the window at the falling rain, and he seemed not to have heard her question. Yet Lia could have sworn she’d heard his voice in her head, as clear as if he’d spoken the words aloud. The same thing had happened earlier, when she’d suggested playing cards or board games to pass the time. She was almost certain she’d intercepted his thoughts about making love instead. Long and hard into tomorrow morning. But that was impossible, Lia decided, gi
ving herself a mental shake to dismiss the notion that she’d heard Magliore’s voice in her head. She’d already determined that she couldn’t read his mind. Especially not from across the room.
The more plausible explanation was that the thoughts she was hearing were a manifestation of her own feelings and desires. She wanted to make love to Magliore long and hard into tomorrow morning, and she was the one having a hard time choosing a movie, because what she was in the mood for couldn’t be found on any of those shelves.
“Is there anything in particular you’d like to watch?” she tried again.
His gaze returned to her face. “It doesn’t really matter to me. I can’t remember the last time I even watched a movie—it’s been so long. I’m sure whatever you pick will be fine.”
Nodding, Lia turned back to the shelves and scanned the titles again. She automatically rejected movies about war, tyranny, corruption, political strife or civil unrest, not wanting to give him any painful reminders of what was happening in Muwaiti. For that same reason, she also bypassed movies with excessive violence, gore and killing, which pretty much eliminated most of the horror films. She wouldn’t have minded watching a classic blaxploitation flick for old time’s sake, but she didn’t know whether Magliore would appreciate the humor or cultural references. Being black in America was different from being black in a Caribbean province largely governed and inhabited by blacks.
Damn it. Why was she making this so hard?
From across the room, Magliore chuckled softly. “Why are you making this so hard, chère?” he drawled, echoing her thoughts. “I’m not a film critic. I won’t criticize whatever choice you make.”
“I know that,” Lia muttered.
“If I had known how difficult this would be for you,” he said dryly, “I would have chosen the movie myself while you were in your room. But I know how strongly you American women feel about being able to make your own choices.”
Lia scowled. “Very funny, Magliore. You know, I’ve had just about enough of you and your sexist remarks and—”
He laughed. “Just pick a damn movie, woman!”
Lia quickly selected a psychological thriller she’d wanted to see last year, then popped it into the DVD player and grabbed the remote control.
As she made her way back to the sofa, Magliore watched her, his eyes dancing.
“You didn’t have to yell at me,” she said with as much icy hauteur as she could muster, considering she wanted to laugh, too. She had been taking ridiculously long to make a selection.
“I’m sorry,” Magliore said, looking anything but apologetic with that irreverent grin tugging at his lips.
“Yeah, right.” As Lia sank down on the sofa beside him, she realized it hadn’t even occurred to her to sit elsewhere. There was a perfectly comfortable love seat or a leather armchair she could have curled up on, but she hadn’t.
So much for wanting to keep your distance.
“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” Magliore said, trying very hard to sound remorseful. “How can I make it up to you?”
Lia gave him a sidelong look. “Well…since you asked, I always like to eat popcorn when I’m watching a movie.”
“You want me to get you some popcorn?”
“Yes. There should be a box of microwave popcorn in one of those cabinets in the kitchen.”
“All right. Consider it done. Anything else?”
“Hmm…How about a nice cold beer? In a glass.”
Magliore nodded, rising from the sofa. “Popcorn and beer, coming right up.”
Lia waited until he’d almost reached the kitchen before adding, “Oh, and could you bring me some marshmallows? For some reason I always crave something sweet after eating popcorn. Must be all that salt.”
Magliore turned and stood in the doorway, staring at her with a look of mild exasperation. “Popcorn, beer and marshmallows,” he said slowly, with exaggerated patience. “Will there be anything else, mademoiselle?”
“No, that should do it,” Lia said cheerfully, smothering an impish grin.
“Are you absolutely sure?”
“Yep.” When he’d disappeared inside the kitchen, Lia waited a beat, then called out, “I’ll need a few napkins to wipe the butter off my fingers. And don’t forget to pour the beer into a glass!”
She heard him mutter something in French that made her throw back her head with a shriek of laughter.
He emerged several minutes later, balancing a bowl of popcorn, two bottles of beer, an empty glass and a bag of miniature marshmallows on a wooden tray.
As Lia watched, still grinning, he set the tray on the ottoman, then with a smooth, gallant flourish proceeded to fill her glass.
“Here you go, mademoiselle,” he murmured.
“Thank you,” Lia said, accepting the cold glass from his hand. “Has anyone ever told you that you’d make an excellent waiter?”
“Yes,” he said wryly as he sat down. “When I was fifteen, I had a summer job as a bartender and waiter at one of the popular tourist restaurants in downtown Port le Duc.”
Lia grinned, watching his grim expression. “Something tells me you didn’t like it very much.”
“Other than the long hours and having to deal with drunk, obnoxious tourists—the Americans were the worst—it wasn’t all that bad. The owner liked me, so to compensate for the embarrassingly meager wages he paid, he used to let me sneak food home to my brother and sister. They loved the conch, salt-fish and chictai.”
Lia groaned loudly. “Mmm, don’t you dare talk about Muwaitian food. Not unless you can produce a plate filled with those foods right this very second.”
Magliore smiled. “Believe me,” he said, “if I could, I would.”
Glaring balefully at him, Lia stuffed a handful of popcorn into her mouth and chewed, feeling sorely cheated.
He laughed and took a swig of his beer.
“So how long did you work at that restaurant?” Lia asked curiously, reaching for more popcorn. “Just one summer?”
He shook his head. “Two. That was about all I could handle of tourists.”
Lia cast him a knowing grin. “I bet you got hit on all the time.”
He smiled. “What makes you say that?”
She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Well, gee, let me think. Hmm. Could it be because you’re ridiculously good-looking? I mean, I can just see you at fifteen, not yet a man, but still irresistible in cutoff shorts and T-shirts that showed off the muscle tone you’d developed from all that swimming. I bet those horny women used to flock to that restaurant just to ogle the hot, young island stud with the dreamy eyes and melting smile. Come on,” she teasingly cajoled. “Tell me they didn’t slip you their hotel-room numbers and pinch your butt every time you turned around.”
Magliore let out a choked laugh. “I was just a kid!”
When Lia twisted her lips and gave him a don’t-insult-my-intelligence look, he chuckled. “A gentleman never kisses and tells.”
Lia grinned. “Uh-huh. Just as I thought. You probably flirted right back and got those women all hot and bothered, thinking they were going to have a steamy island fling, like the heroine in How Stella Got Her Groove Back.”
He flashed a wolfish grin. “What can I say? They tipped very generously.”
“Oh, I bet they did.” Chuckling, Lia reached for her glass and took a sip of beer, watching him over the rim. She could definitely see him working his magic on those poor tourists, even at the tender age of fifteen. The kind of raw animal magnetism Armand Magliore possessed was innate, instinctive, as natural to him as breathing. He’d been born to seduce women.
If she wasn’t careful, she could easily become his next victim.
Shoving aside the unsettling thought, Lia asked, “Where’d you work after quitting your job at the restaurant?”
“I continued working in the tobacco fields,” he answered, settling back against the sofa.
“Continued? You mean, you worked in the tobacco fields at the same time y
ou were a waiter at the restaurant?”
“Not quite at the same time,” he said with a small, teasing smile. “I couldn’t be in two places at once.”
Lia made a face at him. “You know what I meant.”
He chuckled. “Yes, I know what you meant. And yes, I worked in the tobacco fields during the same time that I waited tables. On the days I wasn’t scheduled to work at the restaurant, I reported to the fields.”
“You were only a teenager,” Lia said softly.
He nodded. “I was fourteen years old when I first started working. It was shortly after my father died. My mother worked tirelessly as a seamstress, but it was difficult for her to support herself and three young children on her modest income. We needed more money, so I got a job.”
“You got two jobs,” Lia said softly, her throat constricting around a knot of emotion. She knew his background, knew he’d been looking after his mother and siblings since his father’s death eighteen years ago. But she hadn’t realized the full extent to which he’d assumed responsibility for his family’s survival. He’d basically sacrificed his childhood in order to take care of them and provide for them. Was it any wonder his mother and siblings looked at him with such adoration, loyalty and unconditional trust in their eyes? He was their rock, the glue that held them together. They would be lost without him.
Magliore shook his head in response to her previous statement. “I didn’t start working at the restaurant until the following summer.”
“Well, what was your schedule like during the school year?” she prodded, hoping he wouldn’t tire of her questions. She’d always been naturally inquisitive, but with Magliore, her curiosity took on a whole new level of intensity. She found herself wanting to know everything about him, wanting to understand every facet of who he was.
“I worked a few hours after school every day and on the weekends. But my education was always the first priority. My mother would have it no other way. If I wanted to miss a day of school in order to earn some extra money, she adamantly refused. She always told me that education was a powerful weapon against poverty, ignorance and hopelessness, and as long as she had breath in her body, her children would not squander their educational opportunities. Although she was a seamstress and my father was a tobacco farmer, Maman always believed God had greater things in store for me and my siblings.”
Secret Agent Seduction Page 15
