Forbidden Fantasies Bundle

by Dawn Atkins

“Curioser and curioser,” Sierra said.

  BAILEY MONTGOMERY threaded her way through the couples on the small dance floor, then slipped behind a row of potted palms and pressed herself against the wall. Night had fallen in earnest, and the whole patio was bathed in shadows. Gage Sinclair had given the bartender an envelope and it had been delivered to a table at the far end near the sidewalk. She had to get closer. Sucking in her breath, she squeezed her way past another tree.

  She hadn’t had any trouble spotting Gage Sinclair. She’d actually felt his presence before she’d picked him out of the crowd. She’d all but forgotten how he’d made her feel all those years ago when he’d been in charge of her training. There’d never been another man that she’d been so intensely aware of.

  She’d given it some thought back then, and she’d decided that she couldn’t blame her feelings entirely on Gage Sinclair’s looks. Oh, he was handsome all right—if you liked your men tall, dark and ruggedly handsome. And she had. Over the years, she’d dated plenty of men who’d fit that description. But they hadn’t affected her the way Gage had. The way he evidently still did. She’d been so distracted by him that she’d nearly missed it when he’d handed the envelope to the bartender.

  And she was thinking about him now when she should be focusing on that table. Jed Calhoun could be seated there. Keeping close to the wall, she progressed one inch at a time. When she finally reached the last potted palm, she peered through the leaves. There were no men at the table.

  Disappointment streamed through her. She shoved it down. Someone at this table was getting a message from Gage Sinclair and she wanted to know who.

  The band was playing something with a Latin American beat, and there were couples on the dance floor. Crossing her fingers, Bailey prayed that they would take a break soon. She wanted to hear what the women at the table were saying.

  Through the palm leaves, she could just make out the white shape of the envelope. It was sitting on the table in front of the woman at the far end. As Bailey studied her, an odd sense of familiarity moved through her. She’d met the woman before, but where? She never forgot a face. After concentrating on the problem for sixty straight seconds, she let it go. She’d remember sooner or later.

  Why had Gage sent the envelope to her? Based on her memories of him, he never did anything without a plan. Therefore, the woman at the far end of the table—whoever she was—was Bailey’s ticket to finding Jed Calhoun.

  Just then a couple at the table next to the women’s rose and started toward the door. Bailey quickly wiggled her way back three trees, stepped out and moved toward the now-vacant table.

  As she sat down, she saw the woman at the far end slip the envelope into her bag. A moment later they all stood up and the three tall women on her side of the table momentarily blocked her view. They were chattering about James Bond. Turning, she looked quickly at each one of them, committing the faces to memory. She recognized the tall redhead as a D.C. cop. Natalie Gibbs. Bailey recalled meeting her briefly on a case involving an international art theft ring.

  The conversation shifted to movies and whether or not they still had time to take one in. Bailey found herself envying the laughter and the easy camaraderie that these women were enjoying. Working in what was essentially a man’s world didn’t offer many opportunities for her to hang around with other women.

  Bailey checked her thoughts. No wallowing, she scolded herself. For years now, she’d put her career first. As a result, she was very good at what she did. That was important to her.

  The cop she’d recognized turned then and Bailey caught another glimpse of the woman at the end of the table. This time something clicked and she remembered exactly who the woman was.

  Zoë McNamara was the mousy little analyst who’d been Hadley Richards’s protégé during her brief career at the CIA. There’d even been those rumors that she’d had an affair with Hadley before she’d resigned.

  What in the world was Gage Sinclair doing using her to deliver a message to Jed Calhoun? Even as she tried to think about the possible implications, the women at the table began to move past her table.

  “Welcome to the Blue Pepper. What can I get for you?”

  The question from the cheerful waiter only distracted Bailey for a second, but when she glanced back, Zoë McNamara was nowhere to be seen.

  8

  FROM HIS POSITION in the shadows of a store entranceway across the street, Jed had a fairly good view of the Blue Pepper’s patio. Intermittent screens with hanging plants bordered the sidewalk and partially blocked some of the tables from sight, but through a small gap between two screens, he could see Zoë sitting with her friends, and he could just make out her face in the candlelight.

  Moments ago he’d seen Rad hand her the envelope from Gage, and she’d put it in her bag. The bad news was that Bailey Montgomery was currently seated with her back to the street at a nearby table. Later, he would berate himself for dragging Zoë into this, but right now, he had to figure out a way to get that envelope.

  After he’d left the Blue Pepper, he’d walked around Georgetown, ducked through a few alleys, cut across some lawns and made his way back to the Blue Pepper. In doing so, he’d lost anyone who’d been tailing him, including the men Ryder had assigned to him.

  In the twenty minutes or so that he’d been watching her with her friends, he’d had time to examine his motives for having Gage send the envelope to her, and they weren’t pure. He’d known that retrieving it would give him an opportunity to see her again. And right now, he could admit to himself that he wanted very much not only to see her again, but to kiss her. To touch her.

  He wanted to spend an entire night with Zoë McNamara.

  The realization had surprised him. He couldn’t recall ever wanting to do that before. In the past, he’d always made sure to keep his relationships with women simple. One way to do that was to lay down ground rules, and number one for him had always been to leave before morning. He’d almost convinced himself that his desire to spend a whole night with Zoë was solely because there’d been so little time and space in that hammock.

  For the past thirty minutes, he’d been spinning a little fantasy in which he’d corrected that problem. In his mind, he’d imagined savoring the foreplay they’d hurried through the first time. First, he’d undressed her layer by layer in a bed—a very large bed with cool white sheets and stacks of large, soft pillows. He’d been about to lay her back on those pillows when he’d seen Bailey Montgomery sit down at a table near Zoë’s.

  The reality check was sudden and abrupt, sending all the very enjoyable images he’d conjured up right out of his mind and leaving a cold knot in his stomach. Obviously, Agent Montgomery had seen Gage pass the envelope to the bartender and she’d waited to identify the recipient.

  Jed’s mind raced. In another few minutes, Zoë, Sierra and their friends would leave, and Bailey Montgomery would follow Zoë. The woman was good at her job. She might even approach Zoë and try to talk her out of the envelope. At the very least, she would have Zoë watched and followed.

  He had to get the information Gage was sending him before that happened. But how? Through the gap in the screens, he saw Zoë rise from the chair. She was getting ready to leave. He strode forward out of the shop entranceway and crossed the street. As he reached the curb, Zoë glanced his way and their eyes met. He felt the power of the connection like a punch in his stomach. For a second, it stopped him in his tracks. No other woman had ever affected him this way. Only Zoë. Gathering himself, he moved quickly and quietly toward her.

  ZOË BLINKED, but the man didn’t disappear. He wasn’t an image she’d conjured up in her mind. He’d come back. And he was walking toward the restaurant with that same purposeful stride that she’d noticed earlier. A thrill of excitement moved through her. In the glow of the streetlights, he looked more dangerous than ever.

  Through the small gap in between two screens, she tracked his progress as he stepped up on the sidewalk. Had he come back
for her? Another little thrill streamed through her.

  No, of course he hadn’t. What was she thinking? Being swept away by a mysterious stranger was just a popular fantasy—a very popular one with women, according to her research. She’d never quite understood it herself. After all, the days of pirates and highwaymen were over. And surely, no one wanted them back. No woman wanted to be swept away by a total stranger in real life. Did she?

  As he drew closer, Zoë realized that a very real part of her did want that to happen. Now that she’d indulged in her more passionate side, she seemed to be having a little trouble controlling it.

  She wanted to run, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to run toward this man or away. Not that it mattered, because she couldn’t move. She could barely breathe. Her heart was pounding so hard that it was blocking out all other sounds, and all of her senses were heightened.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that the Gibbs sisters were engaged in a lively conversation. The discussion about whether or not they should take in a movie before they called it a night seemed faint and far away. No one was paying any attention to her. And why should they? She’d barely contributed anything to their conversations all evening.

  She’d been too busy thinking about this man and the magnetic pull he seemed to have on her. Was this her payback for giving in to desire and making love with Jed Calhoun? Was she going to feel this way about every man she met? But it wasn’t every man who affected her this way.

  Just this one and Jed Calhoun. Even the fascination she’d had with Lucifer for six months paled in comparison.

  Though the other women couldn’t see him behind the screen, he was close enough that she could almost touch him. And she was shocked by the greed she felt rising in her to do just that. In the dim light, his face was shadowed, but she could feel his eyes on her, and she could imagine him touching her. An arrow of heat pierced her, and her hand rose and reached—

  “Zoë, we have to talk.”

  He spoke so softly that Zoë wasn’t sure she caught the words. Then he was striding soundlessly toward the corner. Loss streamed through her in the same way that it had when Rad had told her the Brit had left.

  No. Zoë drew in a breath and lifted her chin. She wouldn’t let him walk away again. This time she’d follow him. She had to discover why he had this effect on her.

  A quick look around assured her that no one was paying any attention to her. Glancing back through the gap in the screens, she could see that the Brit was already turning the corner. Saying goodbye to Sierra and the other women would only waste precious minutes, so Zoë squeezed between two screens and raced after him. It was only as she reached the corner and saw that he was nearly a block ahead of her that it struck her.

  The mysterious stranger she was following into the night had known her name.

  JED RISKED ONE LOOK BACK as he turned the corner. Relief flooded through him when he saw that she was following him. Thank heavens. In spite of his disguise, she must have recognized him in the same way that he’d known on some level whose eyes had been on him in the Blue Pepper.

  Still, he didn’t slow his pace. Because he couldn’t discount the very real possibility that Bailey Montgomery or someone she may have stationed outside the restaurant was even now following Zoë, he wanted to put some distance between them and the restaurant.

  They had some time, he figured. He was pretty sure that no one had seen him pause to talk to Zoë. From a distance, it would have appeared that he’d merely stopped to look over the restaurant, perhaps checking for empty tables. And Zoë had been quick to follow. At the end of the second block, he turned left onto a residential street and then slipped into the shadow of a tall hedge and waited.

  The street was quiet. Leaves rustled overhead, and a short distance away a dog barked. A dark-colored SUV pulled around the corner and then speeded up. Halfway down the block, it turned into a driveway.

  Jed heard her footsteps, and that was all it took to have him turning and his whole body tightening. He swore at himself silently. This was not the time for indulging in fantasies. He was here to get the envelope and to get Zoë safely home. How much should he tell her? That was what he should be concentrating on.

  The less she knew the better. He’d already involved her too deeply in his problems.

  The moment that she came into view, he spoke in a whisper. “Zoë, over here.”

  She started, then turned and walked toward him, stopping when she was just out of his reach. He found he had to put some effort into not closing the distance between them.

  “First, I’m warning you that I’m a black belt in karate. So don’t try anything.”

  Surprise shot through him, and for a moment he couldn’t think of anything to say. It was the second time that Zoë McNamara had rendered him speechless. Was that why she fascinated him so darn much? Jed studied her for a moment, while she studied him right back.

  Her flat but carefully worded warning, along with the determined look in her eyes told him that she definitely hadn’t recognized him. Yet she’d followed him into the night. The realization gave him an odd and very exciting thrill.

  “Okay. I won’t try anything.” He used the same British accent he’d used in the restaurant. “If that’s first, what’s second?”

  She lifted her chin and met his eyes steadily. “How did you know my name?”

  This was his chance, Jed thought, to tell her who he was. Instead, he said, “I asked the maître d’.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes widened, in surprise, he thought. But she recovered quickly. “Who are you and why did you ask me to follow you?”

  He should tell her now. But once again, he ignored the opportunity.

  “Well?” She crossed her arms in front of her, and he could hear the soft sound of her foot tapping.

  He very nearly had to smile. She was just so damn cute. Then the moonlight suddenly shifted on her skin, and he became very aware of just how much it reminded him of fine porcelain. But it wouldn’t feel anything like cool, hard porcelain. He badly wanted to draw a finger along that lifted chin and feel the mix of warmth and softness and strength.

  Her brows lifted. “I’m waiting.”

  For a moment, Jed said nothing. This was where he should simply tell her who he was, ask for the envelope and take her home. But in the moonlight, he could only think of doing one thing. It wasn’t rational, but the desire to kiss her again, taste her again, possess her again had been growing ever since he’d turned and realized that she was there in the Blue Pepper watching him. In spite of his promise to himself not to go near her again, and in spite of the possible danger right now, he wanted to prolong the moment. He wanted her here with him.

  “I’m Ethan Blair, and I asked you to follow me because I want to kiss you.”

  She blinked first and then swallowed. In the silence that stretched between them, he noticed the way the pulse at the base of her throat had quickened.

  “If you don’t want me to kiss you, you’d better say so now.” Unable to prevent himself, he put his hands on her arms and drew her closer.

  She lifted one hand to his chest and he stilled. “It’s not that. Because I do want you to kiss me. Very much.”

  When he tried to draw her closer, she pressed harder against his chest.

  “I’m just trying to understand it. I don’t know you from Adam,” she said with a frown. “And I’m sort of involved with another man.”

  “Sort of?” he asked.

  “It’s complicated. But I’m not sure I’ve given up on the idea of pursuing something more with him.”

  A mix of feelings streamed through him. She was talking about him. He was sure of it. Once again, he passed up his chance to tell her who he really was.

  “So why did you follow me if you’re sort of involved with this other man?” he asked.

  Her frown deepened. “Because from the moment I saw you sitting at that table, I felt this…connection. And desire.”

  He drew her clos
er, but she pressed her hand more firmly against his chest.

  “You’re playing with fire to tell me something like that and then try to push me away.”

  “You remind me of him…in a way,” she said.

  “So you followed me because you want this other man?” He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.

  “I told you it was complicated. I also followed you because,” She shifted on her feet and said more softly, “I want to know why you can have this effect on me.”

  Jed did pull her closer then, and this time she didn’t resist. “Maybe you don’t have to figure it out.” He drew her up onto her toes until he could wrap one arm around her and press her body to his in that perfect fit he remembered. Then he rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Maybe you should just enjoy it.”

  “I…I can’t think when you do that.”

  “Good,” he murmured as he brushed his lips against hers. “That means I’m doing something right.”

  “But—”

  He traced her bottom lip with his tongue.

  “I—”

  “Shh.” In some part of his mind, he knew that if he were thinking straight, he wouldn’t be kissing her as Ethan Blair. And he certainly shouldn’t be doing it on a Georgetown street. Then he pressed his mouth more firmly to hers and tumbled them both into the kiss.

  Sensations shot through him—everything he remembered, and more. Her taste was hot and sweet. Only it was more intense than he remembered it. And the heat shot up as if the time they’d spent apart had only stoked the fire.

  Each little explosion of pleasure was sharper than he’d remembered. Her teeth nipped his bottom lip and shot a bolt of desire through him. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and he felt the pressure of her nails through the material of the thin fabric. He moved his hand in one smooth sweep up her side and then covered her breast. Then he changed the angle of the kiss. The need he tasted was so intense, so desperate, and such a perfect match to his own. He could have sworn that the ground under his feet had shifted.