“You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”
“Thank you. For saying that, I mean, but—”
“Jaimie.” Zach clasped her arms and held her so she could look into his face. “It’s over.”
“Zacharias. Don’t you see? It won’t be over until he decides it’s over. Giving somebody presents isn’t against the law. Calling them by the wrong name isn’t, either. And I don’t have a shred of proof that he’s been in—”
“You’re not listening.” Zach’s voice was low. Cold. “You do not have to worry about him anymore.”
“Zacharias—”
“I’m here. I’ll protect you.”
“You have to go back to New York.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“But—”
He kissed her. It was the best way to silence her, but the truth was, he needed that kiss, the taste of her, the warmth of her mouth, the way her lips parted beneath his.
“I’m not leaving you, baby. And Steven Young won’t bother you anymore. I guarantee it.”
Damn right, he’d guarantee it. Tonight, he’d go to Young’s place. Have a talk with him. Put the fear of God and man into the son of a bitch, he thought coldly, and put things right.
Jaimie’s eyes searched his. Then, slowly, he saw the fear begin to fade from her face.
Zach traced the outline of her lips with the pad of his thumb.
“OK?” he said softly.
She nodded. “OK.”
“Good.” He kissed her again. Then he buckled her seat belt, buckled his, and started the car. “Actually,” he said with a deliberate, quick smile, “I’m more a pizza kind of guy than a sit-down-in-a-fancy restaurant type.”
She laughed. It was a little weak-sounding, but it was a laugh and that was something.
“How about you? Are you up for pizza? Sausage. Meatballs. Garlic. Olives.”
“Extra cheese,” she said, and he loved her for that sweet attempt at normalcy.
“Of course, extra cheese! Who would order a pizza without extra cheese?” He reached for her hand, threaded his fingers through hers. “Here’s the plan. We’ll stop at this pizza joint I know and stuff our faces.” She laughed. It was a stronger laugh this time, and a weight seemed to lift from his heart. “Then we’ll go to your place. You’ll pack some things—”
“Pack?”
He nodded. He knew he had to phrase this carefully; if she thought he was only taking her away to protect her, she might balk, tell him, as she already had, that she knew he had to return to New York.
“I’m staying at the Four Seasons. I have a suite. You’ll like it.”
“I will?”
“Absolutely.” He shot her a quick smile. “If you don’t, we’ll go somewhere else.”
“Zacharias. I don’t understand.”
“I want you to stay there with me.”
“Are you going to be here all weekend?”
He knew what she was asking.
“No.”
“Oh. Right. Well, I didn’t figure that—”
“I’ll be here all week.” He looked at her, then at the road. “Can you take some time off?”
“From my job? Zacharias, that’s—”
“Crazy? There’s nothing wrong with doing something crazy once in a while.”
Jaimie studied the face of this man who was a stranger, who was her lover, who she hardly knew and yet had somehow known from the beginning.
“I don’t do crazy,” she said quietly.
“You just said, what you don’t do is helpless.”
“That’s right. But crazy…” She shook her head. “If you knew anything about my family…”
Guilt twisted in his gut.
“I’m sure they’re nice people,” he said, almost wincing at the falsity of the words.
“They’re—I guess you’d say, the Wildes are larger than life. Two of my brothers were soldiers. One flew combat helicopters, one flew fighter jets. The third was some kind of government who-knows-what.”
The blade of guilt twisted harder.
“My sisters are into taking risks. One is in California. She moved there without knowing a soul. One lives in New York. She met a man who should have been all wrong for her, but he turned out to be the love of her life. My father is a general. Four stars.” She gave a forlorn little laugh. “How much bigger than life can a man get, right?”
“Honey. Listen—“
“And then there’s me. Straight-A student. President of the student council in high school. A four-year college scholarship that, believe it or not, insulted my father because he wanted it understood that I didn’t need a scholarship, that the Wildes are rich.”
“Jaimie.” Ahead, a traffic light changed from green to amber. Zach eased his foot off the gas. “What does this have to do with us spending some time together?”
“That’s what I’m trying to explain. See, I’m not like the rest of my family. I studied math and then accounting in college.”
“Sure. Well, why not? It’s a secure profession and—”
“I studied it because it deals in logic. Numbers never lie. They never say one thing and mean another. It’s the same with real estate. The numbers are always there. And I need that. I need to know what I’ll be doing an hour from now, a month from now. I’m not good at—at the Wilde thing, you know, standing on a precipice and looking down.”
Ah, God. He was a fool. He was so determined to find the best way to protect her while he found out what in hell was happening that he’d overlooked one simple fact.
How much would a woman read into an invitation like that?
Maybe a better question was, how much should she read into it?
Because there were other ways to keep watch on her.
He could go right back to what he’d been doing until last night. Watching her from his car without her being aware of it. Turn this into a regular surveillance; get some of his people down here, put them on 24/7.
Nowhere was it written that the best way to protect a subject was to move her into your bed. Goddammit, it was the worst way. The least acceptable way. You were never supposed to become emotionally involved with your subject. Never. And he never had…
Zach wrenched the wheel to the right. Horns blared behind him. He ignored them, pulled to the curb, and turned to Jaimie.
“Is that how you feel? As if you’re standing on a precipice?”
She nodded.
“Well, dammit, that makes two of us.” He reached for her hands. “Something’s happening. You and me…I don’t understand it.” He gave a short, sharp laugh. “I’m on that precipice with you.” His hands tightened on hers. “I can’t make you any promises, Jaimie. That’s not who I am. I can only tell you that I want to make you happy, that I want to be with you. It’s all I can offer—and I only hope to God it’s enough.”
He fell silent. She didn’t say anything. Why would she? It was possibly the world’s worst speech, certainly not what a woman would want to hear, especially not a woman who’d just told him she didn’t take risks, but it was the truth and it was the only truth he could offer.
The part of him that had spent years in Special Ops, in The Agency, knew that he had to be out of his mind, saying these things. He had a job to do. He was here to protect her, and if convincing her to go with him was the best solution for now, until he could get another plan in place, what did it matter how he convinced her?
He could have lied. He could have said the hearts and flowers nonsense women all wanted to hear.
“Zacharias. I have to tell you something.”
He looked at her. Her eyes shone with courage, with determination. He could feel the letdown coming.
“I missed you,” she said. “I missed you terribly, all these weeks. I know that sounds impossible, but—”
He undid his seatbelt, leaned toward her and kissed her. Slowly. Gently. Until she made a soft little sound and then he took the kiss deeper, deeper…
They
broke apart, both of them breathing a little harder.
“Are you desperate for that pizza?” he said in a rough voice.
Jaimie answered by putting her hand in his lap.
They were twenty minutes from her apartment.
They made it in ten.
* * * *
There was a pizza place in her neighborhood. Jaimie had their menu.
“Woman does not eat by Lean Cuisine alone,” she said solemnly.
Zach phoned, ordered the biggest pie they had. He said he wanted everything on it.
“Except anchovies,” Jaimie said.
“Except anchovies,” he repeated to the kid at the other end of the line, and then he looked up.
Jaimie was heading for the shower. She was wearing an oversized robe, but she’d left it hanging open. It skimmed her breasts and framed her hips, leaving the cluster of soft golden curls exposed.
In a heartbeat, he was hard as granite.
“—thing else, sir? Hello? ”
Zach cleared his throat.
The rest of what he wanted wasn’t on the pizza joint’s menu.
“Uh, no. That’s it.”
“Did you tell them extra cheese?”
He looked at Jaimie again. Her expression was innocent but her eyes told a different story. Witch. She knew what she was doing to him.
“And extra cheese,” Zach said. “How long?”
He nodded, hung up the phone, rose from the bed, and started toward her. Jaimie took one look at his face and shook her head.
“You can’t.”
“Play with fire,” he said softly, “you run the risk of getting burned.”
“Big talk.”
His grin was smug and potently masculine.
“Big something,” he said. She laughed. He waggled his eyebrows. “Come and find out.”
He held out his arms. She gave an exaggerated sigh and went into them. He gathered her close, his hands under her robe.
“Oh my,” she said, and they both laughed, but then their laughter died and she said his name and he drew her to him, his arms like steel bands around her. She made a sound that whispered of pleasure and need and belonging, and he felt it go straight through him.
“Baby,” he said softly, and he closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair.
He hadn’t been joking. He could have made love to her again, but this—holding her to him, feeling the beat of her heart against his, was what he wanted.
What had just happened in her bed had been wonderful, but so was this. The laughter. The teasing. This sweet, shared silence.
Being intimate with a woman didn’t always have to be about sex.
He supposed he’d always known that, in theory. He’d worked with guys who’d seemed, what? More complete, for lack of a better way to put it, after finding the right woman. Good for them, he’d have said if anybody had asked, but liking women, enjoying their company didn’t mean he wanted more than that.
Why would he?
He lived his own life. Came and went as he pleased. Did as he pleased. If he liked a woman, he could be with her for a month. Two months. No ties. No expectations. Just good times, good sex.
Great sex. That was even better. And it was great, with Jaimie. It was more. It was wanting to hold her afterward, the way he had a little while ago. Her head on his shoulder, his arm curved around her, her leg over his.
And that feeling. Of, OK, completion. Not only physical completion. Something more. Something that happened when he took her to bed…
Jesus Christ!
He had never taken the camera out of her bedroom. It had been recording everything, everything! Him undressing her. Caressing her. Her touching him. Her riding him, her head thrown back.
He’d never intended to record anything even close to moments like that. Not as part of a surveillance. The images were safe; they were broadcast to his cell phone, but if Jaimie ever found that camera, if he ever had to tell he had placed it…
It was going to be tough enough to explain that Caleb had sent him to her.
He didn’t want to imagine how it would be to explain that he’d produced a triple-X-rated movie.
Jaimie sighed and stirred in his arms.
“If I’m going to take that shower,” she said softly, “I have to do it soon.” She leaned back in his arms. “How long until the pizza gets here?
Zach cleared his throat. “The kid said half an hour.”
“Mmm.”
He knew what that “mmm” meant. And he wanted the same thing.
No.
The camera. Cameras. One in here, one in the kitchen.
“Zacharias?”
She batted her lashes. He pulled her to him, bent her back over his arm, and kissed her like the villain in an old movie.
“I see straight through your plan,” he growled. “Delilah did it with a haircut. You’re gonna do it with sex. You figure you’ll make me so weak I won’t be able to fight you for my fair share of pizza.”
“All the man can think about,” she said with grave assurance, “is his stomach.”
He dipped his head and kissed her breasts.
“Not all,” he said huskily.
Her eyes blurred with desire. He bit back a groan. He’d never been a slow starter, but he’d never been as ready for a woman as he was for her, each and every time. But not with that camera still tucked in among the silk flowers no more than six feet away, and the other camera doing its thing in her kitchen.
Zach raised her up, dropped a light kiss on her lips, turned her around and patted her on her backside.
“Get moving. And leave some hot water for me.”
Jaimie glanced over her shoulder. She stuck out her tongue. He grinned.
“Promises, promises,” he said.
He watched her walk into the bathroom, waited until he heard the sound of water drumming in the shower, waited some more until he heard the shower door shut.
Then he grabbed the basket of silk flowers, snatched the tiny camera, pulled on his jeans and slipped the camera in a pocket.
The shower was still going.
He raced to the kitchen, found the second camera and breathed a sigh of relief.
His jacket was lying on a chair in the tiny living room. In fact, most of their clothes were in the living room. They’d been in a rush to get naked when they’d come back an hour ago.
Zach turned his head in the direction of the bedroom.
The shower was still running. Good. He’d feel safer with the material on his cell phone deleted and the cameras themselves stashed in a pocket of his jacket.
He dug his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, ready to hit delete. His finger stilled over the button. He was a man dealing with a lover’s problems, but he was also a trained investigator. He hadn’t checked the downloads of either camera since last night.
It would only take a couple of seconds
The kitchen download was fine, if you were into endless footage of appliances.
Delete.
Now for the bedroom video. He’d run it in reverse, as fast as it would go, because he had to be damn near out of time.
He sped through the most recent stuff, taken only a couple of minutes ago, and, man, the footage of them making love right before that, which was a turn-on even to think about, and then there’d be footage of them dressing and, after that, the empty room taken when they’d gone out…
Zach froze.
Steven Young.
The camera caught him as he entered the room, first from the back, then in profile, then a full shot of him as he turned in a slow circle and gazed around him with the ease of a man out for a stroll.
Young ran his fingers over the top of Jaimie’s dresser. Pulled open the left top drawer stroked his fingers over what was inside it. Lingerie. Young shut his eyes, tilted back his head, lost himself in those long, slow caresses.
Zach tried to control his breathing. He’d seen lot of things in his life that had filled him with rage,
but this…
Bile rose in his throat.
And it was his fault. His goddamn fault. What in hell had he been thinking? A prowler last night and he hadn’t done a thing to secure the place this morning.
He’d been too busy indulging himself in mindless pleasure.
The figure on the tiny screen closed the drawer. Smiled. Curved his hand over the bulge in his trousers.
“I’m going to kill you,” Zach whispered. “You sick fuck!”
Young turned around.
Walked to the bed.
His gaze fell on the rumpled sheets. His breathing quickened and he bent over them. Took what was clearly a long, deep, appreciative breath.
Young stood straight. Fumbled at his trousers. Stuck his hand inside his fly.
Zach’s field of vision blurred. Went scarlet. His breathing stopped.
“Zacharias?”
Zach’s hands fisted. He told himself to breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.
“Zacharias, where are you? The doorbell’s ringing. It must be the delivery guy.”
Jaimie. God, she could not know about this. She could not see this…
“Zacharias!”
He hand tightened around the cellphone. He wanted to smash it into a thousand pieces, smash it into Young’s face…
Click.
“No!”
The cry was torn from his throat. In his fury, he’d hit the Delete button. A red light came on; Zach hit the button again and again, but it was too late.
It took only a second for all the video footage to vanish.
“‘No’ what? Zacharias What’s the matter?”
Everything inside him seemed to still. His breathing, his heart, his brain. He stared at the phone for what surely was forever. Then he stuffed it his pocket, dragged in a breath, let it out, and swung toward the hall.
“Zacharias?”
“I’m here,” he said, amazed that he could speak at all.
She was leaning into the hall from the bedroom door. She was dressed, wearing jeans and a sweater, drying her hair with a big towel.
“What was that ‘no’ for? And didn’t you hear the bell?”
“Yeah. I heard it. I…” He pulled out his wallet, held it up. “I was having trouble finding my wallet—but I just did..”
The bell rang again. He went quickly to the door, opened it as far as the flimsy chain would permit. A gangly kid with a bad case of acne stood there with a white pizza box in his hands.
Jaimie: Fire and Ice Page 17
