Mac quickly controlled his expression, hiding his anger, surprise, and distaste behind a mask of bored politeness. He accepted the Senator's hand for a brief shake and had to refrain from wiping his palm along his pants.
"It's Mister, not Sergeant. I'm retired now, sir." Which the son-of-a-bitch was well aware of.
"Ah, yes. Your accident. What a shame to end such a promising career." The Senator's gaze lingered on the scars covering the lower half of Mac's face then slid that same gaze to TR. The cool hazel eyes lit with appreciation as he reached for her hand and held it between both of his for longer than was polite. "Ms. Meyers. I'm delighted that you could make it. Such a pleasure to see you again."
"Thank you." TR tensed just the smallest bit as she pulled her hand from the Senator's and moved closer to Mac. "And thank you again for the invitation."
"Think nothing of it." The Senator's gaze moved from TR to Mac and back again. "I had no idea you and Mr. MacGregor were acquainted. How long have you known each other?"
Mac spoke quickly, stopping TR from answering. "We've only recently met. Through a mutual friend."
"How interesting." Something flashed in the Senator's eyes as his gaze met Mac's, something cold and calculating. He turned back to TR with a smile that oozed false charm. "I wanted to apologize again for the abruptness of our interview the other day."
"No apologies necessary, sir. I'm just grateful you were able to make some time for me, considering the time of year."
"Think nothing of it. Well, I've kept you two long enough." The Senator made a small motion with one hand, signaling for a nearby waiter. "Please, help yourself to some champagne. We'll be celebrating the new year soon."
Anger and suspicion burned in Mac's gut as he watched the Senator disappear into the crowd. He felt rather than heard TR's sigh of relief, saw her hand reach out to pluck a crystal flute from the serving tray of the hovering waiter.
Mac grabbed the glass from her hand, placed it back on the tray, then led her toward a quiet corner. He leaned in close, his voice low and controlled as he spoke.
"TR, what the hell are you up to? Spill it. Now."
Chapter Fourteen
What the hell are you up to?
TR thought about playing dumb—for five seconds. It wasn't just the controlled anger burning in Mac's dark eyes, or the rigid way he held himself. He didn't frighten her—Mac would never hurt her, she knew that as surely as she knew her own name.
No, it wasn't Mac's reactions that convinced her playing dumb wasn't a smart move—it had been the interaction with the Senator. He'd made her feel...dirty. Contaminated. Confused. It was a completely different feeling from the other day. When she'd met the Senator in his office for the brief and essentially worthless interview, he'd been distracted and unfocused. It was almost as if she'd met two different men. The first one didn't impress her and the second one...the second one frightened her.
Beyond that was the astonishment that Mac knew the Senator. How? What kind of history was between them? Not a good one, that much was obvious. And the way the Senator had thrown that falsely sympathetic comment about the ending of Mac's career in his face, almost like he was gloating. It made no sense.
And neither did Mac's response when the Senator asked how long they'd known each other.
TR tilted her head back, curiosity filling her as she looked up at Mac. "Why did you tell the Senator we just met?"
"Because the less information he has, the better. Now tell me what's going on. What are you up to?"
"I'm not up to anything, Mac. I swear."
He was quiet for too long, watching her through narrowed eyes. He finally wrapped his hand around hers and tugged, guiding her away from the crowd that had moved closer. TR thought he was leading them to a secluded spot on the other side of the musicians but to her surprise, he led her out to the small dance floor. He pulled her into his arms, fitting her against his large body, and gently guided her in the steps of a slow dance.
"Mac. What—"
Mac dipped his head, his warm breath stirring the tendrils of hair curling around her ear. "He's watching. I need you to relax, pretend there's no place else you'd rather be right now than in my arms."
TR's steps faltered. Pretend? He thought she had to pretend? She took a deep breath and relaxed against him, followed him as he led her around the floor. She focused on a spot over his broad shoulder, afraid to meet his gaze, afraid he'd see the truth in her eyes.
His lips nuzzled her ear, sending shivers dancing along her spine. Except he wasn't nuzzling, he was whispering, his voice so low she could barely hear him.
"You came to DC to interview the Senator the other day."
It was a statement, not a question, but TR nodded her head anyway.
"Does this have anything to do with that story you're doing on the facility outside Frederick?"
TR nodded again, cleared her throat and tried to pitch her voice as low as Mac's. "Yes. He's the driving force behind it. There's concern about the land being historically significant but things are being pushed through so fast there's been no time for any in-depth studies."
Mac pulled away, his brows pulled low as he watched her. "You've got to be shitting me. That's what this is about? The fact that a piece of land might or might not have historical significance?"
"Yes. Mostly. I mean, it was."
The song drifted to an end. Mac led her off the floor, back to the far end of the room. He snagged two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and offered one to her. Then he leaned closer, bracing one large arm against the wall behind her. To the casual observer, it would look as if they were nothing more than a pair of lovers having an intimate conversation.
Was that why he was standing so close? Close enough that his leg brushed against hers. Close enough that she was in danger of combusting from the heat radiating from his body.
TR took a small sip of the champagne, her gaze darting around the room, looking everywhere but at Mac. If she did, he'd see more than her bewilderment and confusion.
"What do you mean, mostly and it was? What's going on?"
She hesitated, not sure how much to tell him. Would it hurt to tell him everything? About the email and that little nagging voice in her head that kept screaming something else was going on? She risked a glance at him, saw the hard set of his jaw, the fierce protectiveness flashing in his eyes.
She trusted him. She wouldn't have sought him out if she didn't, wouldn't have enlisted his unwitting assistance otherwise.
TR pulled her gaze from his and took a steadying breath. "I'm not sure what's going, not really. This wasn't even supposed to be a big story, nothing more than a few column inches, if that. It still might not be."
"But?"
"But..." TR took another cleansing breath, released it in a quick sigh. "Two weeks ago, I received an email saying there was more to the complex and that I should look deeper."
Mac's gaze gave nothing away. "And?"
TR hesitated, wondering if she sounded as crazy as she thought. "And to follow the money. Follow my instinct."
"Do you know who sent the email?"
"No. I tried to send a reply but it bounced."
"And what does your instinct say?"
"I—I'm not sure. I think something is going on, I just don't know what. And..." She stopped, not sure how to explain. Mac's gentle voice urged her on so she took a quick breath and continued. "There was something off about the Senator the other day. During our interview."
"Yeah, I bet there was. The man's a slime ball."
"No, not that. Mac, he was like a different person than the man who was just talking to us. He was confused. Distracted. It was like he wasn't sure where he was or what I was even doing there. He kept repeating himself and half of what he said didn't even make sense."
Mac's gaze turned thoughtful and for a long minute, he said nothing. He looked around the room, taking in everything and nothing, then turned back to her. "Don't trust him, TR—"
; "I don't."
"And stay away from him whenever possible." Mac held up his hand, stopping her complaint before she could even form the words. "I know this involves work and that might not be possible. But if you need to meet with him again, make sure someone is with you. Trust me, if the Senator is involved, there's definitely something going on. And whatever it is, it isn't good."
"How do you know him?"
Mac's gaze briefly darted away, but not before she saw the anger in his eyes. "Long story."
She thought about pushing, immediately decided against it. There was a finality in his words, in the tone of his voice, that let her know he wouldn't discuss it. Not now. Maybe not ever.
He turned back to her, his dark gaze penetrating, seeking. "How'd you manage an invitation here tonight?"
"I don't know. It showed up about a week after the email."
"And you didn't think that was suspicious at all?"
TR laughed, the brief sound escaping her on a whisper. "Of course, I did. Look around, Mac. This isn't exactly a crowd I'm part of. And I'm not seeing any other reporters, especially any from a weekly regional paper that doesn't even register on DC's blip."
"But you came anyway."
"I had to. It was too big an opportunity to pass up. Especially if I got the chance..." Her voice trailed off and she quickly looked away, her face heating under Mac's scrutiny. Would he notice? Would he be able to finish her thought and figure out what she had planned?
If the sudden tensing of his body wasn't answer enough, his soft swearing certainly was.
"I don't believe it. Christ. TR, please tell me you weren't planning on snooping around."
"I—"
"Of all the—" Mac swore again. "You wouldn't have gotten more than three feet in any direction outside of this room without someone following you."
"I thought that maybe—I mean, if I had someone to distract—"
"Is that where I was supposed to come in?" There was something in Mac's voice—a tightness, a bitterness—that made her look up. His dark eyes were unreadable, his face eerily blank. "Have the scarred monster scare everyone so they wouldn't notice you slinking around where you don't belong?"
Anger exploded through her, surprising in its swiftness. "Stop it. Just—stop it."
"Why? We both know it's true."
"Bullshit!" The sharp word came out in a hiss, silencing Mac and startling her. She took a deep breath, fighting for a semblance of control, fighting to keep the words inside. But she couldn't, not anymore, not when Mac was staring at her the way he was, like he was convinced that the marks on his face were the only things that defined him.
"You don't get it. You never have." She raised her hand, her heart squeezing when she noticed Mac's brief flinch a second before she rested her palm against his jaw. He stiffened under her touch, tried to pull away, but she held him in place with nothing more than the force of her gaze.
Slowly, her touch light and gentle, she traced the scars with the tip of her finger. The long one that ran from the corner of his mouth to each edge of his jaw, the jagged flesh oddly smooth. The shorter ones, twisted and knotted, that bisected the large one. Even the faint lines that cut across his chin.
Mac reached for her hand, his fingers closing around her wrist. Rough, strong—but gentle, too. He didn't move her hand as she expected. He didn't do anything except watch her.
"TR—"
"I don't care about these, Mac. I never have. They don't make you who you are. The don't define you." TR lowered her hand, dragging his with it. She traced the edge of the crisp white shirt down to the center of his chest, placed her palm over the steady beating of his heart. "This is what I care about."
She stepped toward him, her breasts brushing against the firm expanse of his chest. Then she pressed her mouth to his, the kiss soft and lingering yet over too soon as she pulled away.
"We should get something to eat before we leave."
Chapter Fifteen
This is what I care about.
TR's words had thrown him off-balance. Even now, more than three hours later, he could still feel the heat of her palm pressed against the middle of his chest. Could still hear the soft conviction of her voice.
Could still see the naked desire in her clear eyes.
Off-balance? No, she'd done more than simply throw him off-balance. Christ, it was a fucking miracle he could still walk and breathe at the same time.
Mac's gaze swept the room, immediately finding her. She was twenty feet away, deep in animated conversation with a Congresswoman and a lobbyist, talking about who knew what. For someone who had been convinced she didn't fit with this crowd, she was certainly making a fair amount of new acquaintances.
He let his gaze linger on TR for a few seconds longer then looked around the room. Slow, casual, as if he was nothing more than a curious guest. The Senator was near the center of the room, speaking with two men he didn't recognize.
Mac wondered again about his decision to stay, worried that it had been the wrong one.
No. As uncomfortable as the Senator made him, it was better that they had stayed. Leaving so soon after getting here would have raised suspicions. As long as the Senator remained in sight, Mac was comfortable with staying—especially since TR had abandoned her half-baked plan of snooping around.
Mac glanced at his watch. The New Year would be here in two more minutes. They could leave after the celebration.
He accepted two glasses of champagne from the passing waiter and made his way over to TR. She turned, her mouth curling into a smile when he approached. He told himself not to read into her smile or the glimmer of appreciation dancing in her eyes. Told himself not to read into the way she stepped closer and placed her hand on his arm.
Excitement filled the air, disbanding the slight stuffiness that had hovered over the room just a few minutes earlier. The Senator was standing near the musicians now, directing everyone's attention to the large television that had appeared thirty minutes earlier. The screen showed a massive crowd huddled together in Times Square before moving to the large ball making its slow descent.
Mac didn't give a shit about the crowd or the brightly-lit ball. The only thing he cared about was the woman by his side, her head tilted back as she gazed into his eyes, a soft smile lighting her face.
The crowd in the room started counting down in time with the television.
Ten.
Someone jostled TR from behind and she stumbled against him. Her face heated with a pale blush but she didn't pull away.
Nine.
Mac wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. Could she feel the heavy beating of his heart? She must, with her hand pressed against his chest that way.
Eight.
Her eyes widened, desire flaring in their pale blue depths when his gaze caught hers.
Seven.
Her mouth parted, her tongue darting out to sweep along the plumpness of her lower lip. Mac followed the movement with his eyes, hunger welling deep inside him.
Six.
TR leaned even closer, her body shuddering with a shaky breath when he ran one rough hand down her arm.
Five.
She opened her mouth, whispered his name in a breath so soft, there was no way he should be able to hear it. But he did. Or maybe he didn't, maybe he simply felt it.
Four.
He dragged his hand up her arm, her skin pebbling under his touch. Her lids fluttered closed as he wrapped his hand behind her neck, his fingers tangling in the thickness of her soft hair.
Three.
Her eyes opened, her gaze filled with warmth and need as he dipped his head toward hers.
Two.
She draped her arms around his neck, reaching up to meet him. A whisper of breath escaped her, brushing against his lips in a soft caress.
One.
Mac's mouth closed over hers. Soft, hesitant at first. Learning. Tasting. Teasing. But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
TR pres
sed herself closer, a whisper of need escaping from her mouth and into his. He cupped her face between his palms, the cool smoothness of her skin acting like a balm to his battered soul. He titled his head and deepened the kiss, drinking in the sweet nectar of TR's mouth as fires of need raged through him.
Scorching. Cleansing.
Consuming.
There was nothing else around them. No cheering crowd. No cries of Happy New Year. No clinking of crystal against crystal.
There was only TR, her soft curves pressed against him as he lost himself in her touch, her taste, her scent.
Her kiss.
And the man stood in the shadows, watching.
Waiting.
###
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And no, Mac and TR's story doesn't end here! Their story continues in THE PROTECTOR: MAC, releasing on February 27 and available for pre-order here. Keep reading for a sneak peek!
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THE PROTECTOR: MAC
Cover Six Security Book 1
These men never back away from danger—and always fall hard for love in Cover Six Security, an explosive new series from USA Today Bestselling Author Lisa B. Kamps
Gordon "Mac" MacGregor swore an oath to protect and defend—an oath he continues to uphold as a former Army Ranger specializing in dark ops private security with Cover Six Security. Danger is a constant companion—and one of the few things that make him feel alive. He doesn't expect that danger to come in the form of the Tabitha "TR" Meyers, the only woman who sees him for who he truly is—and the only woman he's ever sworn off.
Covered By A Kiss Page 7
