Call to Honor

by Tawny Weber

  Sharing a naked chocolate feast sounded delicious, and, yeah, doing Harper was a nice fantasy. But the idea of doing either in the name of the mission left a bad taste in his mouth.

  Odd moral line, but there ya go.

  “Would you like more?” Harper asked, offering the platter with its last piece of chicken.

  “I’ve had three helpings. I should probably stop.” He put as much charm into his smile as he could, because it had been a delicious meal. “I’m not used to home-cooked meals. Thank you for a delicious one.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it. It’s rare that I get to cook for other people. Especially men.” Harper set the platter down, then trailed her fingers along the back of his hand. The move was soft, a barely-there caress that sent a shaft of desire zinging through him, proving that his body didn’t give a damn about those moral objections.

  Step back, he ordered.

  “I’ll clear and clean,” he offered automatically, both as an excuse to remove himself from her touch, and because he was a man used to the fair disbursement of duties.

  “It can wait,” she said with the tiniest of shrugs. The move sent her dress sliding, leaving one shoulder bare. “Shall we go into the great room?”

  “Great,” he quipped, pushing back from the table. She got to her feet at the same time, swaying just a little.

  She’d had enough to eat—and more important, to drink—to relax her enough that she might divulge whatever information she knew. He could wind this up tonight, get the hell back to base and deal with this threat like a fighter instead of skulking around like a spy. Anticipation stirred as the call of the familiar beckoned him with unexpected intensity. He wasn’t cut out for this crap.

  “I’ll just bring this, shall I,” Harper suggested in a husky tone that sent a tingle down his spine. As she spoke, she lifted the bottle of wine and waved it from side to side. That it was mostly empty occurred to them at the same time. “Oops, not much to bring, is there?”

  “No problem,” he said. After all, he wanted her relaxed, not comatose. Before he’d finished his refusal, she had a second bottle and a corkscrew in hand.

  “We’ll bring this instead.” Her moves were smooth, her smile easy. But he could see traces of nerves in her eyes.

  So she was worried. Time to find out why.

  He followed her out of the kitchen. While Harper set their glasses on a low oval table that appeared to be inlaid with stones, Diego looked around the great room. He hadn’t gotten this far in his earlier search, so his quick sweep now was twofold. First, to note potential areas of interest to explore later. And second, to check out the space he figured Harper and her kid spent most of their time in.

  “I’ll get that,” he offered as she lifted the corkscrew and bottle. Taking them, he wandered the room as he opened. There were plenty of photos spread over the shelves and decorative tables. Despite being a variety of sizes and shapes, all of the frames were polished redwood. Some were Nathan; some were Nathan and Harper. There was one of Nathan with a group, all wearing Scout uniforms, and a couple of him with another boy his age.

  None included Ramsey.

  Diego frowned a little as he pulled the cork free. Once again, where were the family photos? The grandparents, the multigenerational group pictures. It was as if Harper and Nathan had only each other. Was that deliberate? Her family was long gone, but what about Ramsey’s? They were still alive and kicking. Was Harper one of those anti-the-ex’s-family kind of women? Time to find out.

  “Wine?” he offered, facing her with the bottle lifted high.

  “I’d love some.”

  With a slow smile that could easily be taken for seductive, Harper slid onto the couch, tucking her feet beneath her so her dress spread like flower petals. She held out her glass.

  It only took a glance at the dilated pupils and delicately flushed cheeks to see she was well on her way past enjoying to overindulging. All things considered, getting a woman drunk wasn’t the worst interrogative method he’d ever used.

  He filled both glasses, although his was only for show, and joined Harper on the sleek leather couch, shoving aside a pair of nubby turquoise pillows.

  “How’d you get to be such a good cook?” he asked for lack of a better opening. He felt like such an ass that he decided then and there to tell Savino they needed to add spy craft to their training regime.

  “Necessity. I didn’t want to raise Nathan on fast food.”

  And there was his opening. Maybe he was better at this than he’d thought.

  “You’re a good mom,” he complimented. “If I had a kid, I’d want to know he had someone that conscientious in charge. I’ll bet Nathan’s father appreciates it, too.”

  As if he’d flipped a switch, Harper’s smile dropped, a brow-furrowing frown taking its place.

  Yeah. He did suck at this.

  “Didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject,” he lied. “I’m just saying I admire how you’re raising him. A nice home, good meals, a cool bike. Everything a boy needs for a good childhood.”

  “You think?” Her gaze shifted to her wine for a moment; then she shrugged again and met his eyes. “Nathan’s a great kid. He makes it easy.”

  “He’s excited about camping. Sounds like he’s done it a few times. Does he go with his father?”

  “With his...” Her face paled, her lips tightening over whatever words she’d been about to say. She tunneled her fingers through her hair, the shaggy ends falling tidily back in place, then shook her head. “No. I took him camping last year. He’s gone once or twice with his best friend, too.”

  “You went camping?” He couldn’t help but grin a little.

  “You’re surprised?”

  “No,” he realized, shaking his head. “You’re a good mom. Good moms do things they don’t like sometimes. Like camping.”

  “And letting their little boys go to camp for two weeks,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

  “You didn’t want to let him go?” Her shrug wasn’t a denial. “So why did you?”

  “Because he wanted to. And he needed a chance to grow a little more independent. According to my friend, Andi, that’s important if a boy is going to grow into a strong man.”

  “But you’ll miss him,” Diego said, pinpointing the emotions he saw in her eyes.

  “I will, but I have a plan to keep it from overwhelming me,” she admitted, wetting her lips and looking at him like he was a big bar of creamy chocolate.

  “Do you, now?” There he was, feeling nervous again.

  “I do, indeed.” She leaned closer, so that her breast brushed against his shoulder. “It involves a great deal of wine, a lot of body contact and perhaps a few less pieces of clothing.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  “Indeed.” To prove her point, Harper trailed her fingers down the delicate mother-of-pearl buttons of her dress, flipping them open as she went. Each one revealed a little more of the silken skin and satin fabric beneath.

  “You’re good at this.” Too good, he realized when he shifted, trying to find a comfortable position to sit while not giving away just how well her flirting was working.

  Of course, another couple inches of interest and hiding would be pointless.

  “You really think so?” Her expression was so delighted, he had to smile back. “I wasn’t sure if I would be. I wonder what else I’ll be good at.”

  Oh, baby. Images flashed through his mind of flesh, bare and slick with sweat, sliding together. Tongues, teeth and hands teasing, taking. Moans of pleasure, groans of satisfaction. Intense passion, hard need.

  All it’d take was a single touch, one more hint that she was willing, and he’d sit up and beg.

  God. The woman was killing him.

  His orders were to use any means available; those were the terms
of this operation.

  So there was nothing to stop him from having sex with Harper. The question was whether it’d help or hurt the mission. Beyond distraction, the cost could be high. He tried to calculate it.

  What did self-respect go for these days?

  “Why weren’t you sure?” he asked, playing for time.

  “Long story,” she said. She tiptoed her fingers along his thigh, each tap moving higher, getting closer to the rock-hard length pressing against his zipper.

  Diego wrapped his fingers around hers, then, using their joined hands, gestured toward the wine.

  “Pour a drink. Tell me all about it. I like a good story.”

  It was a risk, he knew. Rejecting a horny woman could bring on hell’s fury with a vengeance. But Harper didn’t seem to have her ego tucked in her bra, so he figured it was worth the risk.

  Still she hesitated. So he pushed.

  “Let’s call it a bedtime story,” he suggested, coating his words with enough heat to stir them both a little closer to that sharp edge of no return. He figured it was worth the risk. If he got the intel, he was closer to getting the job done.

  If she got him into bed, well...

  There were worse ways to spend an evening.

  CHAPTER TEN

  EITHER BUYING HER own time or gathering her thoughts, Harper slid her hand from his and leaned toward the couch. She added wine to both glasses, although Diego’s was nearly full.

  She handed him his and, after a deep drink of her own, settled onto the couch next to him again, thankfully leaving a couple of inches between them. Not enough to put her out of temptation’s reach—it might take a few states to do that at this point. But her body wasn’t touching his any longer, and that was enough to keep his thoughts clear.

  “See, it was like this,” she gestured with her now half-empty glass, the pale gold liquid catching the light so it glistened like her hair. “Once upon a time, there was a naive girl who thought she could be better.”

  “Better than what?” he asked.

  She frowned into her glass for a second. “Better than the neighborhoods she’d been raised in, I suppose. Better than everyone expected her to be, for sure. She had big plans, and, being the practical sort, she knew the only person who’d make those plans reality was her. So she worked hard and she scrimped and saved.”

  So Harper had learned young not to depend on anyone. Was that why she kept Ramsey at a distance? Wanting more, Diego made a show of keeping his expression interested as he knocked back a little wine. As expected, she followed suit.

  “She had her life all planned, and plans were a big deal to her since for a long time, they were all she had. But like all fairy-tale characters, tragedy visited her life.”

  She’d lost her mom. He knew that from the files. What he’d read didn’t indicate that Olivia Maclean had qualified as mother of the year, but losing her had to hurt. Especially since Harper, at fifteen, had enough experience with Child Services to be wary of being sucked into the system.

  “This naive little girl thought she had a handle on everything. She used that tragedy to her advantage. She got her shot at college—at a future. She was on her way to a better life.”

  Her words trailed off, her expression filled with a sadness that gave Diego the unfamiliar urge to gather her into his arms and give her a comforting hug.

  What the hell? He didn’t even know what a comforting hug was. So he stuck with what he was good at. Gathering information.

  “Wait a minute—doesn’t every good story include something sexy? Every good adult story, I mean.”

  “Believe me, this one has that,” she agreed, her sharp laugh echoed by the snap of her glass on the table when she set it aside. “Throw in seduction by a sophisticated older man, and a girl like that doesn’t stand a chance.”

  He’d seen Ramsey’s charm in action. He couldn’t imagine it had been less effective when the guy was twenty.

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Harper said when she glanced over and saw his scowl. “That girl, she enjoyed every second of it. Being courted with attention, seduction and sex, it was a powerful, heady time.”

  “And then you got pregnant,” he interrupted, not sure why he was cutting her story short. Except that he really didn’t want to hear the details of her and Ramsey doing the dirty deed.

  “Look at you—seeing right through my little parable.” She gave a self-deprecating roll of her eyes before laughing. “And here I thought I was so subtle.”

  How did she do that? How did she laugh as if those scars weren’t filled with pain?

  He’d seen things, done things that ripped at him in the middle of the night. He’d experienced pain; he’d learned to tuck it away and go on.

  But that was the job. This was her life.

  Her heart.

  “I don’t regret what happened, not even a little bit. But, bottom line, the last time I was with someone, my world changed.” She wet her lips, staring at him with a gaze so soft and wounded that Diego ached for her. “That’s the sort of thing that puts a girl off trying, you know?”

  He did.

  He also knew an emotional trap when he saw it looming in front of him. Between her poignant expression, her sexy body and the sweet vulnerability emanating from her like firelight, she was trouble wrapped in temptation.

  Sidestep, his brain screamed. Even as the warning echoed through his head, he found himself reaching out to slide one of those silky strands of hair around his finger.

  “I let that girl’s story control a lot of my life for a long time. But what if she was wrong, vowing to never have sex again? What if it was simply the wrong time, the wrong guy?”

  “You shouldn’t throw away years of belief just to prove a point,” he advised, although he didn’t really believe his own words. “Just like you shouldn’t let the past control your decisions.”

  “So I should do what feels right, now?”

  Since the question was accompanied by her hand sliding up his thigh again, he had a really good idea of what she was thinking might feel good.

  God, he was tempted. The woman had an innocence that sparked so many unfamiliar feelings in him. It was that unfamiliarity, the uncertainty it engendered, that warned him that temptation could prove more dangerous than he could handle.

  He’d kick himself later.

  For now, Diego backed away.

  “You should wait, make sure whatever you’re thinking is the right thing to do.” Realizing he still had her hair wrapped tight around his finger, he quickly let go, then tapped her glass. “Decisions should never be made under the influence. Especially big decisions.”

  “Mmm, good point.” Eyes never leaving his, Harper downed the rest of her wine, then leaned forward to set the empty glass on the table. “But since I made my decision before the bottle was open, I suppose I’m fine.”

  Whoa. That trap he hadn’t seen.

  * * *

  HARPER HAD NEVER seduced anyone before. She’d never even considered it.

  In her sole relationship, she’d been the one seduced. Her mom had always said that men were only too happy to take what they could get. Nothing Harper had ever seen had convinced her to think differently.

  So other than getting multiple forms of birth control—pills, condoms and a spermicide, not that she was paranoid—along with her groceries earlier that evening, she was feeling very clueless about what to do with Diego.

  Did she make a few more flirty plays? Strip naked and straddle him? Or take a hint and accept that the man simply wasn’t into her?

  The few brain cells not swimming in the grape suggested she take the damned hint, already. She’d been hitting on Diego all evening, and he hadn’t responded. Keeping at it would only embarrass the both of them.

  But he had resp
onded, a tiny voice whispered. She might have put her hormones on ice over the last handful of years, but she recognized interest when it ran its fingers through her hair.

  Of course, that tiny voice was backstroking through wine, but she had to figure it knew what it was talking about.

  “I’m interested in you,” she said, deciding to round the truth out with a little more brazen honesty. “I haven’t been attracted to a man in a long time, but I am to you. I’d like to spend some time over the next two weeks exploring that attraction.”

  As he started shaking his head, she moved closer, pressing herself against him, her hand sliding up and down his arm. The hard, rippling muscles of his shoulder were so arousing that she had to swallow the hot knot of desire in her throat before she could speak again.

  She whispered in his ear, “I’d like to do that exploring naked.”

  “Damn it all to hell,” he muttered, his body tensing as if he was about to jump off the couch.

  Harper blinked hard to clear the tears suddenly burning in her eyes. But before any could fall, he tunneled his fingers into her hair, angling her head toward his.

  “This is a mistake,” he warned tightly. “You know that, right?”

  Yeah. She probably did. But she didn’t want to stop it.

  So she stayed silent as he leaned closer.

  As those dark, intense eyes locked on hers, he gave her a second—only one—before his mouth took hers. It was like being pulled into a vortex of sensations. His lips were soft, his mouth hard. His teeth scraped, his tongue soothed. The kiss slid from testing to teasing.

  Her mind went blank, her body on overload. All she could do was feel. And she felt incredible. Tiny goose bumps of pleasure tingled over her skin. Her nipples tightened, pressing with aching need against the smooth satin of her bra, and desire curled, hot and needy, low in her belly.

  When Diego’s tongue speared between her lips, past her teeth, luring her into a sensual dance so hot and so intense, Harper’s head spun with desire. She didn’t know the steps, but he made her feel like an expert, the way he moaned his approval when she slid her tongue over his.