by Addison Fox
Abstractly he felt the pins give way, pushing at the stragglers to get his hands all over that lush mane. He heard her gasp as he took her lips with his own. Heard an even louder one as his hands settled on her ass as he pulled her closer on his lap.
The door swung open, a soft shout of “Hey!” speared in their direction.
Jack ignored it and tightened his grip on Kensington.
It was time to put on a show.
* * *
She thought she was prepared. Thought she knew how to handle the sensual assault that was Jack Andrews. But try as she might—even with a serious threat to both of them standing in the office doorway—she couldn’t muster up anything past pulse-pounding attraction.
“Excuse me!” The sharp voice cracked like a whip and she pressed against Jack’s chest before adding a rueful smile for good measure.
The ambassador’s chief of staff, Holden Keene, stood in the doorway. She hadn’t met the man yet, but Hubert had pointed him out while they’d talked earlier.
“Um...um...” She added a quaver underneath the layer of embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you doing in here?” Holden stalked across the office, his gaze slashing over both of them. Jack kept a firm hold on her when she tried to struggle off his lap, the movement clearly designed to highlight the tight rise of her skirt over her thighs, all while detracting from any noticeable bulges in her jacket where her gun was holstered.
“Jack!” She upped the pitch and added a giggle for good measure before struggling once more on his lap. The skirt rose another notch and she rubbed her thigh against Jack’s, hoping to lift it yet another inch or two.
The answering spark of arousal in his dark gaze coupled with a quirk of an eyebrow had her making the movement once more. She couldn’t resist tossing him a final, cheeky smile before she turned back to the other man. “Excuse us.”
“How did you get in here?”
“Um...” She added the stammer once more but Jack beat her to the punch.
“Come on, mate. We were just looking for a quiet spot.”
“This is a major international event, not a cheap motel. Officer Ferrero said the two of you came highly recommended, but I’m not so sure.”
Kensington pushed off of Jack’s lap and altered her tone, heading straight toward wheedling. “Please, Mr. Keene. You can’t tell anyone. This was a mistake.” She tossed her head, shooting a dagger-filled glance at Jack, then turned back. “I have my reputation to consider.”
“Perhaps you should have thought of that before disappearing from the party and your posts.”
“Of course.” She cast a glance down and saw the wash of bobby pins that spread across the floor. Pleased they offered some measure of cover from the one she’d dropped after working on the lock, she bent to gather them up. “Please just give me a moment to compose myself.”
Holden stood with his arms crossed as she crawled on the floor picking up the pins. For his part, Jack had already stood and was shielding her body from Holden’s view.
As covers went, they’d have put another proof point in the “accidental discovery of a careless couple making out” column if Jack had stayed seated, watching her pick up the pins, but she couldn’t deny it felt nice to know he had her back.
More than nice, she admitted to herself, as she snatched the last bobby pin and got to her feet.
“We’ll be going now.” Jack pressed a hand to the small of her back and escorted her from the room. It was only when they’d reached the hallway that she took her first easy breath.
“Do you think he bought it?”
His fingers flexed on her back as they rounded the corner and headed toward the sounds of the party. “I’d say that trick you did with your skirt had his tongue lolling out of his mouth nearly as far as it did mine.”
“Happy to use every asset at my disposal.”
“That you did. Admirably.”
She glanced at his profile, the strong slash of his jaw tighter than she’d have expected compared to his lighthearted retort. “We’re okay, Jack. We got out of there just fine.”
“You know he’s not going to keep this to himself. How do you think your new boyfriend’s going to react when he finds out you were making out hot and heavy in his office?”
“It’s a house party. They have to expect a certain amount of indiscreet behavior.”
The ballroom doors were ahead, but Jack stopped just short of them. “They’re not going to expect it of the ambassador’s security detail.”
“If we get questioned, I’ll say I lost my head. The ambassador did press a lot of wine on me in the past hour.”
“You’re missing the point. We were discovered. It’s going to limit our ability to move freely for the next few days.”
“Then I’ll just have to work that much harder paying attention to the ambassador’s boring stories.”
She sailed back into the ballroom, unwilling to continue arguing the point. It might be small and petty of her, but Jack kept saying they were equal partners, yet he wanted to remain in control.
Something was in that drawer and they’d never have found it if they hadn’t investigated the study. They’d both gone with instinct and it had paid off. Even if Holden did question why they were in the ambassador’s office, he had no proof of them doing anything beyond engaging in an inappropriate make-out session.
They had nothing to worry about.
* * *
Holden surveyed the office and checked to see if anything was out of place. Although it was hard to argue with the scene he’d witnessed, he had no doubt Jack Andrews and Kensington Steele weren’t in the ambassador’s office for an illicit moment of passion.
He walked the perimeter of the room, looking for anything out of place, but found nothing. Frustrated, he crossed to the decanter of bourbon on the sideboard and poured himself a large glass.
He hadn’t slept in almost thirty-six hours and he was just tired enough to consider snagging a few minutes of shut-eye. The events of the past few days ran through his mind as he took one of the uncomfortable seats the ambassador believed were evidence of his inordinate good taste.
Whatever.
Holden drained half his glass, then settled his arms on the rests of the chair. What had the two of them been doing in here? Although he’d seen the evidence of their interest in each other with his own two eyes, interest could be faked. Ardor and passion were tools like any other.
Yet...the brief moments he’d witnessed smacked of supreme sexual interest and nothing in the office appeared disturbed.
On a sigh, he attempted to settle once more in the torturous chair. He was tired, that was all. He’d check again in the morning with fresh eyes.
With his lids at half-mast, he reached for his glass once more and drained the contents. It was a play of the light, really, nothing more, that had him leaning forward to see what glittered in the carpet next to the globe.
Curious, Holden got up to see what it was.
A distended bobby pin.
He picked it up and inspected the front of the lock on the globe stand, then stared at the twisted piece of wire.
A twisted piece of wire that appeared to have been repurposed from its original job of holding the long dark locks of Kensington Steele’s hair in place.
Chapter 10
The party finally came to a close around one in the morning. The ambassador’s guests had happily drunk every bottle of wine he’d served and it was only when a few waved the white flag and headed for their rooms that others reluctantly began to get the picture.
“The ambassador throws quite the party.” Kensington flexed her shoulders, and Jack didn’t miss the subtle way her hand sneaked into her jacket to touch her gun. “And despite the revelry, it was quieter than I expected.”
&
nbsp; “Civilized. Some of Europe’s finest power players, drinking wine and making deals.”
“Exactly.” She stared at the canopy of stars above them. “I can’t stop thinking about that drawer. What might be in it.”
“We’ve got two more days to find out.”
“Holden never returned to the party.”
“I noticed that.” Pryce’s chief of staff hadn’t been seen after discovering them in the office. “I also noticed when he was at the party, he blended in the background. Seems odd that a man like that wouldn’t be more ambitious.”
“He’s paid to aid the ambassador, not do his own thing.”
“But at an event like this?” Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t play for me. He’d want to advance his own ends, even if his own ends are support for the ambassador, but he was noticeably absent from conversations.”
“We need to look into him.”
“First on my list for tonight.” Jack fought the yawn that threatened and took a deep breath of the frosty night air. Several smudge pots were lit throughout the vineyard and the scent of gas swelled around them.
Another yawn came on the heels of the last and he didn’t bother to fight this one. He hadn’t had anything to drink since before the incident in Pryce’s office, but a week of minimal sleep had caught up with him. “Do you think we should have made arrangements to stay?”
“Where? Every guest room’s accounted for as are a few small living rooms that have been made up for guests. Besides, our B and B is just down the road and no one in Pryce’s house can even see straight. I’d be surprised if anyone moved after their head hit the pillow, let alone attempt anything.”
“So you don’t think anyone else is going to attempt a make-out session in the office?”
“Nope. I think we get those honors, Ace.”
The moon hung high overhead, illuminating Kensington in a wash of light. Her wry smile was infectious and he felt his mood lighten with each step.
He’d been alone for so long—had run every op with stoic efficiency—it was an odd pleasure to look over and share his observations on the evening’s events.
The gunshot rang out, disturbing the late-night quiet before it embedded itself in the thick bark of an old tree that rimmed Pryce’s property. Jack leaped on Kensington, crushing her against his body and cushioning her as they fell onto the patch of hard-packed dirt acting as a parking lot for the event.
“Where’d it come from?”
He was already reaching for the piece in his holster when he heard the heavy thwap of feet echoing away from them. “Stay down.”
“You can’t chase after them.” The words were hissed but he ignored them as he took off in the same direction as the retreating feet.
“Stay there!”
Jack thought he had a decent chance of gaining on the shooter until the long rows of grapes surrounded them and the footsteps became harder to follow. The rich soil that held the vines absorbed sound, as did the plants themselves, and he quickly grew disoriented as he flew down the long rows.
As the sound of the shooter got more and more faint, Jack acknowledged he’d lost the trail. He came to a halt as he tried to catch his breath and assess his surroundings. He hadn’t paid any attention to where he was going as the shooter fled, and now he was awfully far away from Kensington.
As the moon slid out from behind the clouds, he realized just how far away he was.
And then he began to run.
* * *
Kensington sat up and put the car at her back as she waited for Jack to return. She’d nearly gotten up three times to chase after him but kept coming back again and again to his order for her to stay put.
Was he in danger?
Or would she put him in worse danger if she went charging off?
“To hell with it.” She got to her feet and kicked off her heels, ignoring the cold dirt under her toes. She gripped her gun and started in the direction Jack had run.
She didn’t get very far when a string of lights lit up the estate. Shouts echoed through the cold air as several of the waitstaff rushed outside. Cries of “Signore” and “Signorina” rang out as people rushed from the home like a colony of busy ants.
Several of the waitresses she’d seen moving to and from the kitchen surrounded her and she made out “Are you hurt?” and “What happened?” in their steady streams of concerned Italian. She did her best to ask if anyone had seen the shooter, but their concerned voices and focus on asking if she was hurt kept drowning out the question.
Jack strode out of the vineyard onto the back porch where they all gathered, and she let out her first easy breath at the evidence he was fine.
With her limited language skills, she reassured the people around her she was unharmed before trying once more to ask if anyone had seen the shooter. Vague smiles and a sudden inability to comprehend a word of English were the only reactions she received. By the time someone tried to suggest—with large hand gestures and very stilted words in English—that the car had made the loud noise that had brought them running, Kensington knew it was pointless to keep pressing the point.
It was only when Jack’s arm came around her and he pulled her away that she finally stopped asking questions.
His breath hovered over her ear. “These people are too familiar with the ways of the world to give you any information. Your only saving grace is because they’re familiar with those ways, they’re not going to run to their employer.”
“Where is Hubert?”
“Sleeping off his drunk, no doubt. It was only one shot and if you missed it, there wasn’t anything else to hear.”
“True.”
He escorted her to her side of the car and she shook her head at the ridiculous selection. Who needed a sports car on bumpy dirt roads while undercover?
But she had to also admit it gave a certain sense of carelessness that only reinforced their behavior in Pryce’s study.
“I think you accomplished what you set out to do.”
He turned to her as he put the car into gear. “What was that?”
“We certainly made an impression tonight.”
* * *
The events of the evening continued to keep her company as they walked into the B and B and her limbs shook with the lingering adrenaline. The main lobby was quiet but a fire still burned in the large, cavernous fireplace that dominated the far wall and several bottles of wine and fresh glasses were set out on a small sideboard.
“Join me for a nightcap?”
Kensington gripped her hands together, willing them to still. “I don’t sleep well on the best of nights, so yes.”
“Good.”
She’d left her gun and holster locked in the car and both had gone a long way toward calming her down, but still, the trembles persisted. Slipping off the jacket she’d worn all night to hide the gun, Kensington dropped into one of the overstuffed chairs near the fire.
A large, lazy cat—clearly a full-time resident of the B and B—curled by the fire. As the warmth invaded Kensington’s bones, the cat’s stretching and purring helped calm her nerves. She had to give the tabby credit—as a species, they certainly knew how to live and take advantage of the moment.
Something she did far too infrequently herself.
“Making friends?” Jack held up two large wineglasses, their bowls full of a rich red that glistened in the firelight. His hands appeared to be tremble-free, a small, irritating fact that had ire sparking over the lingering fear.
“Intruding is probably more like it. I saw him open one lazy eye as I sat down and took it as an acceptable cue to scratch his ears.” She took the proffered wineglass and clinked it briefly with Jack’s before resettling in her chair.
Although they’d been over it in the car, she couldn’t leave the subject a
lone. “You never saw the shooter?”
“No. I heard him but never saw him. Between his head start and his dark clothes, he had the jump on me.”
“You assume it was a man?”
“I got the basic build and heft of his body. It was definitely male.”
“It was meant for us.”
“Yes.” The grim truth painted his face in harsh lines and the hints of gray at his temples seemed more pronounced somehow.
“You still think the ambassador’s not up to something? A locked drawer and gunshots?”
“I think the ambassador’s one of many who may be up to something.”
They traded theories for a few more minutes, neither coming up with anything that felt right. “Nothing’s tripping my trigger.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not right.”
“No.” She swirled her wine, calculated. “But it’s off, you know? Everything about this job is just off a bit.”
“Yeah.”
“Is that why you brought me in?”
Jack’s gaze snapped toward hers, quicker than the path of the fire in the grate. “How do we keep ending up back at that place?”
“Because you broke your own personal protocol by bringing me in on this. You’re the lone wolf, Jack. Even before we went up against each other, I knew that. Your considerable reputation precedes you. And you’ve made no secret the past day or so that you’d prefer to be on this job alone.”
“I’m concerned for your safety.”
“That’s not a reason not to want me here.”
“It’s a damn good reason.” He leaned toward her in his chair, the light of the fire sparking off his eyes in tempo with his seething anger. “We both dodged a bullet tonight, which only proves what a damn good reason it is. Don’t forget that, Kensington.”
“I haven’t.”
“Then quit looking for problems that aren’t there. You researched this job. Went up for it. You were the perfect partner when I realized I couldn’t handle it alone. There are too many facets to this one and it needs more than one set of eyes. And unlike the proverbial lone wolf, I know when I can’t do it alone.”
