Carnal Innocence
Julie Miller
FBI investigator Sean Maddox needs a woman–badly. His latest assignment has him poised to infiltrate a hedonistic island resort where anything is possible–including murder.But he can't go in alone. So when he discovers that his arranged escort has taken off, he's in trouble. Until he decides to proposition her roommate, Caitlin–and discovers what trouble really is….Caitlin McCormick is a good girl…with a weakness for bad boys. So when Agent Sean Maddox shows up on her doorstep, needing her help, Caitlin can't resist–him or his offer. For the first time, she has the chance to experience excitement, danger…and raw sexual desire. And she's determined that by the end of her adventure, she'll know, firsthand, just how bad Sean really is….
“Have you ever fantasized about making love in the rain?” Sean whispered
“I hadn’t thought about it before.” Caitlin ran her hand along her arm, sliding across the droplets that left her skin smooth to the touch. “The rain is so fresh and invigorating. And I guess it would make things kind of slippery.” She shivered. “There’s something about having water run across your body that makes you think of…”
Her voice trailed off as the innocence of it all faded. The water might be cool, but her skin was suddenly hot and flushed. Caitlin could feel Sean’s gaze on her lips, her breasts. Narrowed. Piercing. She squeezed her eyes shut and shivered.
She felt as if she’d been transported to another place. She could almost hear the sound of the rain, hushing the rest of the world and leaving her with the desperate agent who had kidnapped her and carried her away with him. She could almost feel his hot, wet kiss, his hands on her body, his mouth upon her straining breast. The heavy heat between her thighs became almost unbearable….
She wanted this. She wanted him.
Almost as much as she’d wanted her adventure in the first place.
Dear Reader,
When I was a kid, fairy tales and fantasy were a big part of my life. Lucky for me, they still are. After all, one of the best things about being a writer is that it gives me the chance to revisit my favorite themes. And in my opinion, you can’t beat Beauty and the Beast for being the perfect love story. Only for Blaze, I got the chance to take that theme in a whole new, sizzling direction!
My heroine, Caitlin McCormick, is a dreamer, too. Like me, she uses her imagination and creates exciting, adventurous fantasies to compensate for the mundane lack of adventure in her life. Until adventure comes walking through her front door in the form of a bad-tempered FBI agent with a tantalizing proposition. Animal magnetism aside, Agent Sean Maddox has the heart of a prince—if only the beauty he kidnaps for the weekend can help him find it….
This isn’t your average fairy tale—but I hope you’ll enjoy it! Let me know what you think about Caitlin’s fantasy-filled adventure. I love to hear from my readers. You may contact me at P.O. Box 5162, Grand Island, NE 68802-5162, or check out my Web site at www.juliemiller.org.
Enjoy,
Julie Miller
Carnal Innocence
Julie Miller
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To the Fulton Public Library in Fulton, Missouri—for having a wall full of fairy tales and fantasies for me to read over and over again.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
1
“GO HOME, Maddox. This case is washed up.”
Special Agent Sean Maddox took the letter from his partner, Thomas Hall, and angrily crushed it in his fist. “Two months of an airtight investigation shot to hell because one state court judge can’t keep it in his pants.”
“Even the high mucky-mucks of society are entitled to a vacation now and then.” Leave it to Thomas to try to reason this thing out.
“Is that what he called it? A vacation?” Sean spat out.
The whole case was slipping through his fingers, and Sean felt responsible. He’d promised Alicia Reyes he’d nail her kidnapper. She was just a kid—a sweet little thing the same age his sister had been when he’d started taking care of her all those years ago.
But the longer it took to get a judge’s ruling on critical evidence, the less likely it was they’d make their case against Marquez stick. And if that sleazebag walked…“Damn!” He wanted to say worse.
Special Agent Thomas Hall pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his reaction to the bad news as coolly reticent as Sean’s had been hot-tempered. “There’s no proof that Justice Rossini had an affair. His resignation letter states that the mere rumor of infidelity is enough to harm his family’s reputation. He’s resigning from the state bench effective immediately to keep the Rossini name out of the papers and go home to Roanoke to work on his marriage.”
“Did he honestly think an island getaway with his secretary tagging along to take notes wouldn’t raise a few eyebrows? We waited all last weekend for this guy to get back to Virginia. He’s been stonewalling us since Monday.” Sean shot the wad of paper onto the scattered files that littered his desktop. “He couldn’t have given us a ruling on that forensic evidence before he went on permanent vacation?”
But the rumors sounded all too familiar. Sean knew first-hand how gossip and separations and rampant libidos could tear a family apart. He’d watched his parents’ marriage go up in smoke when his British father’s military career kept him away from home for months at a time. Not even the unexpected arrival of Sean’s baby sister, Sabrina, could convince Admiral Roland Maddox to stay put in England.
Sean remembered encouraging his mother to move back across the Atlantic to her home in Nebraska—to be near her family while his father was abroad. He’d grown up thinking his mother was the one who was suffering. But Sean’s sympathy faded the day he discovered her trips to town for a college class had been to see the professor himself. In a hotel room.
As if that wasn’t enough, Sabrina had barely made it into third grade when a picture of the admiral with his female aide-de-camp had graced the London Times. Sean’s father hadn’t even bothered to deny the affair; the damage had been done. His mother had retaliated by announcing that she’d been discreet by comparison. The sparks flew. Sean had tucked Sabrina under his arm and faded into the background while their parents duked it out.
The divorce dragged on for two years. When those affairs ended, new partners quickly filled the empty spaces in their parents’ lives, but commitment was never part of the scenario. And the children were never more than an afterthought.
With that stellar example to learn from, Sean planned to do better. He’d found his most enduring relationship to be with the Bureau. But women were another matter altogether. Other than his relationship with his sister, whom he still called once a week at college, his longest relationship with a woman had been eight months, two weeks and a day.
It had taken him that long to notice Elise’s roving eye.
Elise had initially been turned on by the badge and the gun. She’d gotten a thrill from dating a real-life hero. But after the fun had worn off—about the time Sean was thinking about getting serious—he’d found her recent correspondence with her old college sweetheart. When he’d seen Elise and Frat Boy meet for dinner and had caught them kissing, Sean had known it was over with her.
Thank God he’d had the Bureau to return to the next morning. For eight years now, the job had never let him down.
Letting his shoulders expand and settle with a weary sigh, Sean picked up the goofy card that had come in the mail from his sister at Stanford University, and smiled. Sabrina might be the one woman he could count on in this world. Count on without question. Even if she did have the balls to razz him about his single status.
He had nothing against women, nothing against marriage.
He just wasn’t going to put his faith in either one of them.
“Something you want to share?” Thomas’s pointed question brought Sean back to the glassed-in confines of their tiny office.
“Nah. It’s just a note from Bree.” Sean smiled again, easily picturing Sabrina’s long wavy curls and mischievous grin. “Checking on me before she leaves the country for her next graduate studies project.”
Thomas adjusted his glasses. “You’re okay with that?”
Sean shrugged. He’d had a lot of years to get used to taking care of his little sister. He hadn’t had enough to get used to her being all grown up and gallivanting around the world to dig up buried treasures in pursuit of her Ph.D. in archaeology.
Another image, of a little girl with equally long hair—black instead of blond—filled his mind and pushed aside his sentimental thoughts. A simmering frustration tensed his muscles and pulled his mouth into a taut line. He tucked Sabrina’s card into his top drawer and looked across the desks to Thomas. “One thing I know I’m not okay with is Alicia Reyes’s kidnapper walking away because of a legal technicality.”
Sean swiped a hand over his jaw and scratched at his scraggly beard. He hadn’t shaved since yesterday morning. He and Thomas had been too busy piecing together the facts of the young girl’s kidnapping. Alicia was home safe now, but her kidnapper would never stand trial if they couldn’t come up with more than circumstantial evidence to warrant an arraignment.
“We were that close to nailing Marquez. So what if we entered that house without a warrant?” Sean thumped his finger on the desk. “We had the warrant in our hands before we opened the closet and found the ropes with the hair samples.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, Maddox.” Thomas stood and straightened his tie. By this time of the afternoon, Sean had no idea where he’d discarded his. “But without Rossini to give us the go-ahead on using that rope, Marquez is just a creepy guy who lives in the neighborhood.”
Thomas adjusted the holster he wore strapped around his shoulder, and picked up his suit coat from the rack beside their office door. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package. He tossed it to Sean. “Here. Do you even know it’s May 29?”
With easy reflexes, Sean caught the package. Closer inspection showed it to be a present.
“Happy birthday,” Thomas added.
Sabrina’s card had come early, before she took off for parts unknown. Since then, Sean had lost track of the days. Thomas, of course, never missed such details. “You shouldn’t have.” Sean dredged up a sly grin and ripped into the ribbon and paper. “What’s this supposed to be?” Thomas had given him a tiny, black, leather-bound book. He thumbed through the pages. Inside he found an assortment of names and phone numbers. “Noelle. Kris. Cassie. Sue. Sherry. Mary Ann.”
“Since Elise left, you don’t seem to have a little black book of your own, nor would you take the time to use one. So I thought I’d share some friends of mine.” Thomas walked over and tapped the book. “I put the names of six very nice ladies in there. They’re smart, they’re sexy, they’re available. And they’re willing to meet you, which is no small accomplishment on my part, I might add. Why don’t you call one of them and go celebrate your birthday tonight?” Thomas shoved aside a stack of files and sat on the corner of Sean’s desk. “What are you now? Thirty?”
“Thirty-two.”
“That’s almost over the hill, buddy. You’re good at your job, Sean. No one would ever argue that. But this stack of paperwork and that badge aren’t going to keep you warm at night.” Thomas shrugged, indicating the logic of his argument was irrefutable. “It’s not as if women don’t like you. You’re not bad-looking, you work out, you have that James Bond accent you inherited from your dad going for you.”
Sean leaned back in his chair and listened. As much as he might not want to hear it, he trusted Thomas’s opinion. No one could have predicted the two men would become such good friends. First of all, they were polar opposites in looks and personality. Thomas was tall and lanky. With his bookish demeanor and dark hair, he’d always reminded Sean of Gregory Peck playing Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird. Sean wasn’t quite as tall, and he was more likely to be cast as Schwarzenegger’s stand-in in some action flick. His blond hair always seemed to be out of place, while Thomas was neat as a pin. Thomas was a thinker. Sean trusted his gut.
But they understood each other. Inside. Where it counted. A woman could never do that.
“I notice you’re not wearing a ring either, buddy,” Sean stated. “You’re thirty-two also.”
Thomas rose and headed for the door. “True. But I’ve got plans tonight. I can get the job done and keep the ladies happy.” He turned in the open doorway. “There’s not another thing we can do on the Marquez case except hope that legal gets a postponement until we can get a ruling from another judge on that rope.”
Sean refused to give up hope. Alicia Reyes had never given up hope while she’d been held hostage. He reached for the nearest file and opened it. “There’s got to be another angle we can work here.”
Thomas shook his head. “Go home. Get laid. Get some sleep, if that’s how you want to celebrate. But do something for yourself. The case will still be here in the morning.”
Reluctantly, Sean agreed to the logic of Thomas’s argument. He was battle weary. But the thought of going home to his empty apartment wasn’t making him feel any peppier. He tossed the file back onto his desk and stood. “You’re right. We can finish saving the world tomorrow.”
“If you want, I’ll take you out for a beer,” Thomas offered.
“I thought you had plans tonight.”
“I do. But I can give her a call.”
Sean wouldn’t be such a spoilsport. “Forget it. I’m a big boy. I’ll find some entertainment on my own.”
“Okay, hotshot.” Thomas put two fingers to his brow and saluted him. “I hope your mission goes well tonight. See you in the morning. I’ll be expecting a full report.”
“Get out of here.” Once his partner had left, Sean reached behind his neck and rubbed at the tension that seemed to hang like a perpetual burden across his shoulders.
He really should take Thomas’s advice. Spend some time with a pretty lady. Share a few laughs. Do some serious catching-up on his involuntary celibacy of the past months.
At the very least he could call one of those names in Thomas’s black book and introduce himself. Maybe he could convince one of them to share some birthday cake with him.
His sex-deprived body jumped at a hazy image of a sexy naked lady licking frosting off his fingers. But as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to bring the image into sharp focus, it faded in a puff of smoke. His eyes shot open and focused on the mounds of paperwork instead. Damn, his imagination stunk.
Maybe he’d do better to buy a six-pack and a Playboy and ease his frustrations that way.
With that much of a plan made, Sean rolled down the sleeves of his shirt and buttoned the cuffs. He was crossing the room to get his jacket when the door burst open.
“Hall. Maddox.”
“Chief?” The only man in the building who worked longer hours than Sean himself was Deputy Chief John Dillon. And judging by the scowl that creased his mahogany skin, his long hours were just getting started. “What’s up?”
Chief Dillon scoped the office. “Hall leave already?”
“It is after five.”
“Then you take a look at this.” He thrust a fax into Sean’s hands and started pacing. “That just came off the wire. The ambassador from San Isidro, Ramon Vargas, was found dead in his Washington, D.C., hotel suite this morning.”
Sean scanned the report for pertinent facts. “The local cops suspect foul play?”
“The San Isidrans are already on the horn demanding answers. Supposedly, he drowned in his bathtub, but there are bruises on his forearms and the back of his neck that indicate a struggle.”
“Isn’t this a case for the locals or the embassy police to handle? Why bring it to our attention?” Then he read the last line in the second to last paragraph. “Son of a bitch. Is this information accurate?”
“From a reliable informer.” Chief Dillon was shaking his head when Sean looked up. “I don’t believe in coincidence, either.”
“Vargas just returned from vacation on Pleasure Cove Island?”
“Sound familiar?”
With the thrill of the chase on again, Sean circled behind his desk and leafed through the scattered pile of papers. “Bingo.” He pulled out Judge Rossini’s itinerary for the past two weeks and compared it to the dates on Dillon’s report. “They were both on Pleasure Cove Island last weekend.”
He set the papers down side by side and searched for another piece of evidence. He pulled out the photocopy of a high-class, lowbrow invitation and read it out loud.
“You are cordially invited for a weekend of fun and frolic on Pleasure Cove Island. Security guaranteed.
“Meet at the New Harbor dock at 5:00 p.m. to be ferried across Muscongus Bay to my island home.
“Leave your wildest fantasies to us.
“All will be discreetly provided for you.
“Your host,
“Douglas Fairchild.”
“It’s a perfect setup,” the chief said. “Word is, if you have the money and the power, you can go there and do the nasty however and to whomever you want. Fairchild promises anonymity. There are no telephone communications to the island. He’s never allowed the press there. For medical emergencies, there’s a nurse on the premises. No one goes in once the party’s started. No one comes out until it’s done.”
“A regular playground for the rich and self-indulgent. You think Fairchild is blackmailing his guests?”
“Or maybe the guest list isn’t as anonymous as Fairchild wants it to be.”
Adrenaline pumped through Sean’s veins. He wasn’t out of the Reyes kidnapping case yet. If he could find something to prove Judge Rossini had been coerced into resigning, he’d have a whole new angle to pursue to keep Marquez behind bars. “Can I go check it out?”
Dillon grinned. “I was hoping you’d ask. Take tomorrow off. Make it a three-day weekend. The ferry to the island leaves promptly at five o’clock.” He was already backing out the door. “I’ll finagle you an invitation and a high-profile cover so you can go in as a guest. You get yourself the date.”
The adrenaline burned out in Sean’s veins. “You’re not assigning a female agent?”
“You’ve got fewer than twenty-four hours, Maddox.” Dillon talked as if he thought Sean was too thickheaded to figure out the obvious. “Take a girlfriend. Tell her you won a free vacation. Tell her you’re celebrating your birthday. It’ll be easier to behave as a couple with someone you’re already familiar with. And since this is strictly a fact-finding mission, I don’t see it as high risk. Call your girl. I’ll fill in Hall tomorrow morning so he can monitor your progress. The clock is ticking.”
“Yes, sir,” he called out to Dillon’s back, but the chief was already striding down the hallway.
Sean stood for a moment alone in the silence.
Who the hell could he call to spend a weekend at a sexual playtime resort like Pleasure Cove? Elise was out of the picture. Maybe…what was her name? Or else that blonde? “Damn.”
This was a sad testament to his workaholic lifestyle.
And he couldn’t exactly go to a bar or the produce aisle and try to pick up someone for more than a get-acquainted date.
Fear of failure warred with duty.
As always, duty won.
Sean snatched up the black book Thomas had given him for his birthday. He’d said these women were willing to meet him.
Maybe one of them would be willing to do a little bit more.
2
CAITLIN MCCORMICK TOOK one look inside her apartment door and knew she was in trouble.
“Cassie?” She thunked her overnight bag onto the tiled floor beside her and listened to her voice echo in the silence. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she recited in a sing-songy voice, and then listened again. “Cass, are you all right?”
She added the last out of polite courtesy, just in case the disorder of dishes, dust bunnies and dirty clothes strewn from room to room wasn’t anything more sinister than a testament to her roommate’s housekeeping skills.
“Maybe aliens snatched her up.” Just to be on the safe side, Caitlin quickly verified that all the rooms were empty. Leave it to Cassie to have a close encounter of the third kind while Caitlin was away. Her roomie could be off exploring brand-new worlds while she got stuck on the home planet doing housework.
Just like in one of Caitlin’s Star Trek books, it would be Cassie’s luck to get beamed aboard a starship to hang with the hunky captain while she got left on the surface to deal with a villainous Klingon.
“Hmm.” Caitlin raised her eyebrows and considered the possibilities. There was a definite appeal to the idea of saving the day. “I could just tame that bad boy and take over the planet myself.” She growled in her throat, imitating the imagined villain who would be at her mercy. “He’d be my consort. A warrior to serve my every need.” She closed her eyes and licked her lips, savoring an imaginary kiss as the rough-edged warrior took her to his bed.
The cool air that brushed across her wet, wanting mouth brought her back to reality. Her eyes popped open. No warrior. No lover.
No roommate, either.
But a very real mess to clean up.
“You shouldn’t have.” She waved off the imaginary audience that was cheering her dumb luck. “I’m so thrilled you’ve given me something meaningful to do with my life.” She’d learned to weed sarcasm out of her teaching, but the rest of her life was fair game for a loaded remark.
She shrugged out of her light-blue jacket and hung it in the closet. The reality of her life was that she had work to do. And as much as she wished she could ignore her responsibilities and just take off to indulge her latest whim the way Cassie did, someone had to clean up before ants found their way into their apartment.
Caitlin had spent the last week of May reconnecting with her father on Chesapeake Bay. She’d wanted to get away once the school year had finished, and she always enjoyed spending time with her dad. It had been relaxing—digging up crabs, sailing, chatting about the warm spring weather.
But after a couple of days of kicking back and relaxing, she’d found it boring. Not the time spent with her father. Her. She was boring. She’d had nothing more exciting to discuss than that she’d finally found a stylist who knew how to cut her curly hair without making it frizz like steel wool.
No wonder Retired Brigadier General Hal McCormick kept dozing off. She was reliable, sensible, boring old Caitlin. The only daughter in a long, tough tradition of rugged military men. She had no rank of distinction in front of her name like her brother Ethan’s “Major.” No notorious tag line to follow her name like her brother Travis’s “Action Man.”
She answered to the inauspicious title of Ms. McCormick. And her tag line went something like “Dull As Dishwater.” “Same Old, Same Old.” “Good Girl.”
Her father probably never dozed when one of her brothers was recounting a military mission or listing the names of dignitaries he’d hobnobbed with at a diplomatic function.
Caitlin carried her suitcase into her bedroom and set it down with a heavy sigh. While she unpacked, she pulled her cellphone from her purse and punched in her father’s number. She did share her brothers’ dutiful habits. Being responsible meant checking in as per her father’s request.
He picked up on the second ring. “McCormick.” Her father’s gruff voice held less bark than it had in years past, but Caitlin still found herself subconsciously anxious to please him.
“It’s me.”
The general’s tone never softened, but she knew there’d be a smile on his face. “How’s my best girl?”
Caitlin smiled at their secret code. “A-okay, Daddy.”
“Was your trip uneventful?”
Caitlin’s breath seeped out in a humiliated sigh. Uneventful. Was there any other way to describe her life?
But her father didn’t need to hear her complain. “I got home just fine.” Looking around her apartment, she despaired at how much work it needed, but he didn’t need to hear that, either. “I really enjoyed our visit.”
“Me, too.” He cleared his throat. Uh-oh. Prelude to fatherly lecture. “Be sure you call the doctor tomorrow. I’m sorry the chemicals we used to clean the boat got to you.”
“It was just an allergic reaction. A mild attack. I have an ample supply of all my meds,” she assured him. “My asthma is just fine. I’m fine.”
“Your mother used to take care of all that stuff when she was alive.”
“That was when I was a little girl. I’m twenty-seven years old now, Dad. I can take care of myself.”
Though straight talk and some TLC usually brought her father around to her point of view, some days—like this one—he made her feel as if she was stuck in a time warp. As if she was still that toddler who’d run out across the tarmac to welcome her daddy home from overseas, instead of an adult who still loved her daddy but who wanted the chance to make her own mistakes and earn her own triumphs without her omnipresent family waiting to oversee every choice she made.
After several more reassurances that her Memorial Day asthma attack had not been life threatening, Caitlin gave her father her love and promised to call again over the weekend.
“Unless you have a hot date…”
Caitlin laughed. She hadn’t realized hot date was in her father’s vocabulary. Without a division of troops to worry about any longer, the general focused all of his concerns on his three children. “Don’t worry, Dad. When I get serious about a guy, I’ll be sure you get to meet him.”
“Damn straight. I don’t want some sweet-talker like your brother Travis turning your head and gettin’ you into trouble.”
“Me? Trouble?” She wished. “I’m the most down-to-earth of all your children.” Not counting her rich fantasy life—that would remain her own little secret. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I do. But you’re my youngest.” It was a needless reminder of how well her two older brothers and her father overprotected her. “You’re also the one I rushed to the hospital when Travis brought home that cat and you stopped breathing.”
He still thought she was that ten-year-old girl whose allergies and asthma hadn’t yet been diagnosed. Caitlin tried to remember this was love, not control, talking. “Don’t worry, Dad. I won’t let any man tell me what to do. I won’t let any man give me a cat, either.”
Her father laughed as she’d intended. “Good girl.”
Good girl. Responsible. Levelheaded. In other words…? Boring.
She needed to get a life. Maybe she just needed to live the one she had. She knew the one she wanted—one filled with adventure. One in which her father didn’t worry about her health. One in which her brothers didn’t request personal leave so they could check out her latest boyfriend to make sure he passed muster and minded his manners.
She wanted a life with the heady adrenaline rush of having her mind engaged in a creative challenge. A life filled with fascinating people. A life filled with great sex—okay, any sex—with a real, live, breathing man instead of one of her bad-boy fantasies. A life in which her body cooperated with her goals—where she’d push herself to her limits and then soar far beyond them.
An Olympic athlete.
A movie star.
An astronaut.
A spy.
“Yeah, right.”
She didn’t realize she’d muttered her frustration out loud until her father spoke. “What’s that, sweetie?”
Caitlin pulled herself to attention and covered her slip. “Nothing, Dad. I’d better go. I have some things to take care of here.”
“All right. Call if you need anything.”
They said their goodbyes and hung up. Caitlin pushed aside her gloomy spiraling thoughts. So she wanted independence and adventure, huh? Without alarming her father or putting half the Marine Corps on her tail?
Fat chance.
Maybe she’d best stick to her books.
Sure, she was doing her part to keep the public schools of Alexandria, Virginia, running smoothly. And her eighth-grade students could reconnoiter a sentence with the best in the country, uncovering subordinate clauses and adverbs long before they infiltrated high school. But what was she doing for fun and excitement in her life?
Caitlin picked up her roommate’s discarded sweater from the floor of the closet and sighed with fatigue. Today, it seemed, she was destined for nothing more laudable or exciting than cleaning up after Cassie.
She spotted the sticky residue of fast food on the plate beside the telephone on the entryway table and cringed. The leather-bound book that her roommate had used for a coaster caught her eye next. “Cassie!”
Caitlin picked up the paper cup and muttered an unladylike oath. The cup had been sitting there long enough to soften up and spring a leak. The book was now marked with a permanent circular tattoo. After trashing the cup, Caitlin thumbed through the pages, bemoaning the damage to one of her favorite stories.
“Sydney Carton, my hero.” She opened A Tale of Two Cities to the last page and read the final line. “‘It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done…”’ Caitlin closed the book and hugged it to her chest. “You got a bum deal, Syd.”
How many times had she rewritten the ending in her imagination? In her version, Dickens’s scoundrel of the French Revolution was rescued at the guillotine by a resourceful American woman. Let Charles Darnay have his sweet, good-girl heroine. Caitlin and Sydney always ended up in a little grass hut on the beach in Tahiti in her happy ending. Sometimes they ended up naked on the beach itself.
Caitlin returned the book to the hanging shelf above the telephone table. Being an English teacher as she was, the symbolism of closing the book on her fantasy life wasn’t lost on her. Was it really asking too much for fate to break her out of her rut?
Her gaze traveled down to the table, beyond the trash and burrito remains, beyond the telephone, and lighted on the folded sheaf of flowery notepaper propped up next to a stamped business envelope that contained their rent check. Unmailed. Caitlin jabbed her fingers into the blond hair at her temples and lifted the chin-length tendrils into fluffy disarray. Typical.
A muscle-tensing sense of impending crisis zipped from the roots of Caitlin’s kinky hair all the way down to her size-nine feet. “Definitely the worst of times.”
Cassie Kramer had the truest heart in the world, but her impulsive approach to life had left Caitlin in the mop-up and rescue position more than once during the course of their friendship. It looked as if today would be no different. She picked up Cassie’s note.
Her roommate’s handwriting was as flowery as the colorful daisies on the paper, and had been punctuated by a series of smiley faces. “Sorry about the rent check.” A frowny face added its own apology. Caitlin picked up the envelope she’d addressed before going to her father’s. Dropping their rent into the mailbox had been a simple enough request—one her scatterbrained roommate had somehow overlooked. But Caitlin would take care of it. With the leeway granted by their landlord, she could still get it to him by the fifth of the month.
Caitlin read on.
“I know the place is a mess, too. But I got tied up, so to speak.” Smiley face. “Tim and I discovered that panty hose will do the trick.” Another smiley face and two exclamation points.
Caitlin looked up and frowned. “Who’s Tim?” Despite her roomie’s diminutive height, she was generously proportioned and had a flirty, outgoing personality that men found irresistible. She was small and feminine and spontaneous, and men with sex and fun and adventure on their minds flocked to her.
Caitlin attracted a different sort. Standing nearly six feet tall in her bare feet, she found that a decent pair of heels left her towering over most men. Adding in the three bad-ass marines she called family, who loved her a little too well, didn’t help set the mood for potential lovers.
And then there was the problem of being boring to contend with.
Virginia Is for Lovers.
Her home state’s old tourism slogan mocked her. Maybe if she was Cassie Kramer…
Cassie could hang out until closing time at smoky bars on dance night and have her pick of the litter of available men. Caitlin could last an hour, maybe two, before her eyes stung and her lungs congested. There was nothing quite like hacking up phlegm to keep a man from asking her to dance.
Or to do anything else.
She was doomed to late nights at the library, with its purified air and rarefied patrons. While she loved her books, the fiction stacks just didn’t draw the kind of men Caitlin wanted to meet. There’d been a few nice ones there—graduate students, retirees, Jimmy the bachelor librarian.
But not one of them looked the part of the disreputable beast from her favorite fairy tale. Not one bore an air that even hinted at danger. They were all charming and sweet and courteous—and stuck in the same drudgery-filled life that Caitlin was.
Lucky Cassie. Damn lucky.
Caitlin read on. Cassie’s note might well be the most interesting part of her evening.
“Will you be a dear and give my note to Sean?”
She shook her head, wishing she could keep up with her roomie’s love life. “Who’s Sean?”
“He’s coming by tonight to pick me up—he called about some sort of weekend get-together. I thought I could go, but I can’t. I tried to call back but couldn’t reach him. It was sort of a mercy date, anyway. He’s a friend of a friend, you know?”
Caitlin chastised the piece of paper in lieu of her impulsive friend. “You could have just said no.”
“I’d apologize in person, but Tim came by unannounced and surprised me with a four-day trip to D.C. We might actually leave the hotel and see some of the sights!” Three smiley faces. One of them winked.
“You’ll take care of it, won’t you? Thanks. See you Monday. Cassie.”
At the last smiley face, Caitlin’s frown deepened. “You get a weekend of adventure in the big city and I get to be the Wicked Witch of the West to your mercy date?”
She picked up the Dear John note, hoping Cassie’s explanation would make everything clear to the hapless Sean, who thought he had a date tonight. Minus the smiley faces, this note was even more brief.
Sean—
Sorry to leave you in the lurch like this, but something came up.
Take care,
Cassie
“That helps a lot.” Caitlin’s sarcasm echoed in the foyer.
Cleaning house and breaking the bad news to mercy dates. Just the way she wanted to spend her Thursday night. She could feel the excitement oozing from her pores.
Resigning herself to her lackluster fate, she set the notes on the table, carried the plate to the kitchen, then went into her room to change into grubby clothes. With nothing more exciting than housework and paying the rent to look forward to, she entertained herself by making a big production of getting dressed.
Stripped to her bra and panties, she opened her closet and curtsied to the long dress hanging on the door. “Yes, my lord. I’ll go with you.” She pulled a hand-me-down T-shirt off a hanger and waved at the rest of the clothes. “Goodbye, Papa. I will go with this vile beast if it means keeping you and my family safe.” She pulled on the shirt and bowed her head to the long dress. “Lead on, Sir Beast.”
Caitlin waltzed to the bed. “Oh, no, sir, you mustn’t.”
She muttered the patronizing protest, then threw herself, spread-eagled, onto the bed. “My reputation, sir. I can never be yours. Well, maybe this once.” In a fit of coy giggles she rolled onto her side, reaching for the full-length body pillow she slept with. She hugged it tight against her breasts and squeezed it between her thighs.
As she closed her eyes and kissed the back of her hand, the beast who was her captor took shape in her mind. A big, tawny, catlike creature. Something more than a man, something less than handsome. Virile and uncivilized, rough and rugged—the veneer of his princely rank stripped away to reveal his animalistic need. His hands and mouth would touch, kiss and stroke her into surrender.
Caitlin rolled atop the pillow, increasing the pressure to the sensitive endings of her breasts and clitoris. She arched her back above her faceless captor and stroked her fingers along her neck, purring in response to the pretend touch of her beastly lover. She clutched at his imaginary mane of golden hair and ground her hips into the pillow. A tingling sensation fluttered between her legs and she reached for the culmination of this fantasy seduction.
He was so big. So dangerous. So bad.
And he was hers.
“Take me,” she begged, rolling onto her back and letting the pillow fall over her—the way her fantasy lover would fall down and consume her.
Caitlin tightened her thigh muscles and stretched her toes, urging her own release. Almost…just about…
The headboard rattled with the force of her kick. “Ow!”
An assortment of other choice words filled the air as the fantasy vanished and the throbbing pain in her little toe took over. Caitlin tossed aside the pillow and sat up to rub her foot.
“Perfect timing,” she moaned, feeling cheated of her happy ending.
The pain in her toe eased along with the desire for her fantasy lover. Someday, she wanted the real thing. She wanted to know what it would be like to come when a man touched her. Her sexual encounters thus far had been remarkably limited, and had never quite lived up to her fantasies.
Maybe because she’d never run across one of those bad boys she craved.
Maybe because her father and brothers scared off anyone truly interesting.
Maybe because… “Oh, hell.”
Housework was starting to look downright interesting compared to that line of thinking. Trained to do her duty, she got up and remade the bed, then finished dressing.
An hour later, the dishes were in the dishwasher, clothes were spinning in the washing machine and Caitlin was vacuuming the crumbs and dust from the carpet in the hallway. The swirling water-filter vacuum, specially designed for people with allergies like herself, roared loudly enough to drown out her imaginary duel with a dust bunny.
“Ha! Take that!” With all the style and aplomb of a musketeer, she stabbed the vacuum’s hose beneath the telephone table and sucked up the dusty devil.
Her plan was a simple one. Clean up. Practice her heartfelt apology on Cassie’s behalf. Then, after sending poor Sean on his way, she’d walk down to the corner to pick up some Chinese takeout and mail the rent check.
Dragging the hose and vacuum behind her like a ball and chain, Caitlin brandished the brush attachment and attacked an alien glob of refried beans that clung to the table leg. “You’re next, fiend.”
But before she eliminated the enemy blob from outer space, something gold and shiny caught her eye. “Ah. Hidden treasure.” Judging by the scatter pattern of discarded clothes and jewelry, one of Cassie’s escapades with Tim had taken place out in the hallway. Still envying the idea of casting aside decorum and seizing the moment, Caitlin bent over at the waist and plucked an earring from the wine-red carpet.
That was when she noticed the man standing in her foyer.
The beast.
Come to life.
Caitlin blinked, not trusting her eyes.
He was still there.
Framed in the open doorway, which was barely wide enough to contain his broad shoulders, he stood and stared at her. His green gaze swept her from tush to tennies. Still bent over, staring with a bit of shock herself, she noted he wore a tweed blazer that matched the tawny color of his close-cropped hair. Beneath it he sported a plain white T-shirt that didn’t look very plain at all stretched across that well-built chest. For an odd moment out of time, Caitlin wondered if it was the cut of his coat or the hug of his jeans that made him appear so big. So broad. So solid. So strong.
She licked her lips as her mouth went dry.
So hot.
“Are you real?” she whispered, unheard over the vacuum noise.
Her gaze fell on the plastic daisy key ring that dangled from his right hand. Cassie’s key ring. The one she hid in the flower box outside her window and invited guests to use. Oh God. He was real. Very real.
Since the mysterious Tim was with Cassie in D.C., and Caitlin herself had no love life to speak of, this “guest” had to be Sean.
Great. Just great.
Even upside down and looking through her legs, Caitlin could tell this man was no mercy date.
Cassie had dumped him?
3
NICE BUTT.
Nice legs.
I don’t get the whole upside-down thing, but…
Wow. Very nice legs.
He’d caught the woman wielding a stainless vacuum attachment as if she were dueling with a sword. Then she’d picked up something and started talking to it. Now she was studying him as if he was a rare scientific discovery.
Keeping his distance so as not to trigger any more of her apparent eccentricities, Sean cleared his throat and blinked, breaking the stunned stare that had captured both him and the woman with the endless gams.
She stood up in a flurry and faced him. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. He squinted politely, expecting her to repeat herself. She rolled her eyes heaven-ward, pursed her lips and muttered something unintelligible. She was all flustered in a way that was part preteen and part prude—and disarmingly refreshing in an adult woman.
Sean resisted the urge to smile. She reached down and flipped off the switch on the canister vacuum, filling the apartment with a startling silence. If she was a housekeeper for hire, then he would seriously consider spending some time at his town house, dirtying it up so she’d have a reason to come clean it.
But she smiled and extended a hand in greeting that told him she owned the place. His ogle-the-maid fantasy gave way to polite respect at the confidence she exuded.
“Are you Cassie?”
“I’m her roommate, Caitlin McCormick. You must be Sean.”
Stepping forward, he folded his hand around hers, testing the finely boned structure of it. Despite her height and athletic build, Caitlin McCormick was still very much a woman. Certainly not a preteen and hopefully not a prude. It’d be a waste.
He nodded, once, in greeting and in silent approval. “Sean Maddox. Cassie said to let myself in. Did I interrupt something?”
“What? Oh.” Her silvery gaze darted to the vacuum beside her. She glared at the inanimate object as if it were responsible for the creative housecleaning show he’d just witnessed. She snatched her hand away and brushed her palms against the hips of her cutoff denim shorts. “Just trying to make a dull job a little more interesting.”
“I see.” He didn’t, but it was the polite thing to say.
Enough pleasantries. The clock was ticking.
“Is Cass—?”
“Cassie’s not—”
They’d spoken at the same time.
He grinned, trying to ease her nervous laughter.
But she quickly recovered and started again. “Sorry. I’ve been out of town, ever since school got out last week.”
“You’re a student?”
“Teacher. Junior-high English.”
Lucky kids. Why hadn’t any of his teachers had a body like that? The cutoffs she wore revealed a mile of leg that even his nonadolescent libido responded to.
The delicate points of her shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh that wiped away his smile and replaced his body’s interest with suspicion.
“Here.” She handed him a piece of flowered stationery from the hall table. “Cassie left this for you. She got called out of town unexpectedly.”
Sean scanned the note. His suspicion curdled in his gut and flowed out into his veins in a frustrated temper. “Damn.”
Over the phone, Cassie had sounded like the perfect woman for his plans. No strings attached. Ready for fun. But he’d expected her to keep her word about this weekend. His mistake.
He’d gotten caught at Dillon’s office in Quantico and hadn’t driven into Alexandria, Virginia, until nearly an hour past the time he’d arranged to pick her up. He thought his invitation had made everything clear. He was offering her a free vacation at a high-class resort in exchange for whatever she wanted to offer. As long as the other guests believed they were a couple.
He hadn’t offered his heart and she hadn’t asked for it. But did Cassie’s easy-come, easy-go attitude mean she’d move on to the next man if one date didn’t show up on time?
“I know it’s a surprise.” The voice of Cassie’s roommate cut through his brewing temper. “She said she did try to call you.”
Damn. Now what was he supposed to do? Diego Marquez might walk if Sean couldn’t come up with some connection between Justice Rossini’s trip to Pleasure Cove and his subsequent retirement. Sean would have a hard time dealing with Alicia Reyes’s silent tears if that happened. And the San Isidrans wanted answers soon about their ambassador’s murder, or they’d send up their state police looking for answers themselves. He had to infiltrate Pleasure Cove Island. Tomorrow. “Damn.”
“You said that already. I’m sorry. I know Cassie left you in a bind tonight. But don’t hate her. She’s impulsive—not heartless.” The roommate tapped the paper in his hand. “She did apologize.”
“Apologize?” He glanced up and, standing nearly eye-to-eye, drilled her with the damning look he had in mind for Cassie. “What good does that do me?”
Surprisingly, the roommate stood her ground without flinching. “She told me you weren’t close, that she was doing you a favor.” He watched guilt play over the woman’s features, overshadowing her confidence. “I know it’s inconvenient, but your feelings shouldn’t be hurt.”
“Inconvenient isn’t the half of it. I need a woman. Now.” Sean gritted his teeth and swore again. Didn’t that sound pathetic?
He tipped his head back and hissed an angry breath through his teeth, disgusted with himself for trusting that his plan with Cassie Kramer would work. “Women can’t be trusted to go to the line on anything.”
Caitlin’s hands shot up in protest. “Excuse me. You got screwed out of one last-minute date. Don’t blame the rest of the gender because your timing’s lousy.”
“She’s really not here?” Sean crumpled the note in his fist and began to stalk through the apartment, searching rooms, checking to see if this was all a lie and Cassie was hiding from him.
“Hey!”
Wasn’t that just like a woman? Leaving when you needed her most. This assignment was all about this weekend. She could have dumped him Monday, no problem. But tonight?
The roomie with the dynamite legs hurried after him, trying unsuccessfully to stop him from looking into the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, matching him stride for stride. “Could I have that key back? I don’t think you’ll be needing it anymore.”
She tried to block his path into one pigsty of a bedroom, but he pushed past her. Empty. He crossed the hall and entered a bedroom whose soft blues and tans and wrinkle-free perfection could have come from the pages of a magazine.
He felt her hand at his elbow then. “This is my bedroom. Get out.”
He whirled around, easily pulling free of her tugging grasp. “I had plans.”
Somehow he’d cornered the woman in the doorway. She’d have to brush against him to move past. But Sean rudely held his ground, letting the soft heat of her body seep into him across the breath of space between them. The faint tang of household cleaner blended with the salt-tinged ocean scent of the woman herself. She’d been out on the water recently. He breathed the observation, in and out, her fresh scent filling his head and calming his burst of anger.
She was tall, just a few inches shorter than him—and he was six-two. Her honey-gold hair feathered across her cheeks and forehead in something like a pageboy cut. Only curlier. Sexier. Her gray eyes had darkened to the color of a battleship. And there was definitely a battle waging there. Fire. Fear, maybe. Questions, certainly. But definitely fire.
Plan B took shape in his mind.
He skimmed his gaze down the front of her gray-heather T-shirt. Her breasts were small, barely noticeable beneath the oversize cotton garment. But her hips flared nicely. And those legs… Sean swallowed hard and leaned back to scan every smooth, shapely inch. An image of those legs wrapped around his hips, binding them together in the most elemental of ways, sprang into his mind, consuming his body in a flush of instant heat. Now his imagination decided to kick in!
Sean squeezed his eyes shut and focused on controlling the involuntary response. It had been too long since he’d had sex. That was all. Not once during the Marquez case. Nor the case before that.
He wasn’t a celibate man by nature, but he worked long, difficult hours. He kept company with equally busy fellow agents and criminal lowlifes. When he did run across a woman who charged his engines, he’d make a play for her. A few were okay with his Job Comes First motto. Elise had been. At first.
Then the hassle started. She just couldn’t let him be who he needed to be. She’d bought him ties and dressed him up for dinner. At first he’d used the demands of his job as an excuse to keep things light and fun between them. But somewhere along the line, an emotional bond had formed. And suddenly he’d been rearranging appointments to catch an afternoon quickie with Elise. He’d worn her damn ties.
He’d even swallowed his fears and ventured into a jewelry store. Just to look. There were a number of rings well within his budget that looked nice. That spoke commitment.
He’d walked out with something called a tennis bracelet instead. The next day he’d gone to surprise Elise at lunch. That was when she’d kissed that old friend. In front of him and God and the entire restaurant.
The bracelet was probably still wrapped up in the back of his closet somewhere.
Now Sean understood that his job was the only thing that had never let him down. So that’s where his loyalties lay. Women were for fun and nothing more—if they were agreeable. The Bureau was his full-time commitment. That way nobody got hurt.
But his lonesome body sure seemed to be paying the price for that self-imposed ideal.
He slowly opened his eyes, thinking his bitter memories had helped him conquer his body’s desire. But with his head angled as it was he was staring right at this woman’s breasts. Small, yes, but amazingly responsive. They rose and fell with each quick, deep breath she drew. His own chest expanded in a rhythmic response. Almost…nearly…not quite touching hers.
“What are you staring at?” The woman’s croaky whisper caressed his ears, but his focus had shifted to the subtle seep of color that washed up the swanlike arc of her neck and stained her cheeks.
Despite her boyish attire and eccentric housekeeping skills, she was a long, tall drink of purely female body. South of his belt buckle, he stirred in response again.
A sexy woman was the answer his body wanted to give. But his rational mind still had control. Barely. “How tall are you?”
The question came out of nowhere, from the uncontrolled depths of his subconscious mind.
Her gaze dropped to his chest. “Five-eleven.”
Then the subtle movement of her shoulders registered. She was hunching down, making herself shorter.
Suddenly, Sean had two fingers tucked beneath her softly jutting chin. “Don’t.”
He was lifting her up, tipping her chin up. He moved closer. She was an unexpected combination of creamy skin and steely strength. His fingertips sizzled at the contact. He wanted to sample a taste of that smooth, heated skin.
Her hands came up and splayed across his chest, halting him from coming any closer without pushing him back. It was too tender a touch to ignore, too hesitant a touch to justify the way his nerve endings jumped to greet the clutch of her fingertips. Her eyes had washed to a pale dove-gray, the rounded pupils big and black in their centers, as if she were drugged with the same hazy feeling that seemed to be clouding his own mind.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Judging by the hypnotic effect this woman’s body was having on his, he was charging his engines. He was giving vent to several months of unintended celibacy. He needed sex. Lots of it. He needed to get this fever she was igniting out of his system so he could do his job.
The idea in his mind became a living, breathing desire.
She wouldn’t.
He didn’t dare ask.
He had nothing to lose.
“Are you free this weekend?”
And then she did shove him. She retreated a step into her bedroom while Sean stumbled into the hallway.
Her rosy cheeks had blanched, but there was plenty of fervor left in her voice. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Mr. Maddox, but you can’t just come in here and take me apart with your eyes like that. Cassie stood you up, so you grab the next female who comes along? That’s the most insulting pickup routine I’ve ever—”
“Are you available?” He waved aside her rightful protest before she could lambaste him again. “I know, I know.” He moved into the foyer, away from the unspoken desire that had sparked between them. He needed to think clearly here. Think of the job. He glanced at his watch and swore. “I’m already late.”
Unless he drove straight through the night. He couldn’t risk any holdups with the airlines. But getting there in time did him no good unless he had an escort.
“Late for what?”
Bingo. Curiosity. She might have voiced a ladylike protest at his impromptu invitation, but she was interested. Despite her dating survival instincts, she was interested. Sean’s libidinous radar kicked in, backed up by his professional survival instincts. She might not want to admit it, but she was interested in him.
He slowly turned around and studied her again, from the smooth, flushed skin of her unadorned face down to… Good God, he had to stop looking at her legs. She wasn’t dressed in a particularly provocative fashion. But there was something about her. Something about the whole package of this Amazon that made him think his mission was still possible. That he hadn’t blown his entire weekend. That he hadn’t ruined this assignment. Yet.
She shifted nervously beneath his blatant perusal, crossing her arms at her waist, pushing the nubs of her breasts against the thin cotton of her shirt and creating twin points that tantalized him further.
“You’ll do.”
“I’ll do what?”
This sexy, Amazon temptress was more than Cassie’s odd, naive roommate. She might well be Sean’s salvation.
“Caitlin, isn’t it?”
“Yes?”
“Today’s my thirty-second birthday.”
She hesitated. “Happy birthday.”
He turned on what he could salvage of his charm. “How would you like to give me the best birthday present of my life?”
CAITLIN FELT INDIGNANT anger flush through her from head to toe with a bright rosy heat. “Birthday present? How ’bout I give you a punch in the face?”
How dare he? Either Cassie’s Dear John was a dangerous sex fiend or he was making fun of her.
“What?” A look of stunned surprise filled his dark green eyes an instant before an answering blush crept up his neck. Then those same eyes narrowed in an angry squint as he waved aside her prickly pride. “That wasn’t a proposition. Not that kind, at any rate. But I do have a business proposition for you.”
She arched one eyebrow in doubt. “Is it any better than your last line?” She watched as he pushed up the tweed sleeve of his jacket and looked at his watch. “And quit checking the time. It’s rude. If you have to go somewhere, go. I’m not stopping you.”
Caitlin stiffened in cautious anticipation as his expressive face grew still. One second he was antsy, the next completely calm. Spooky. Cool in a Terminator kind of way, but spooky.
“I don’t have time to do this nice and subtle,” he announced. He pulled back the front of his coat and reached inside. “I’ll make it quick.”
That endless expanse of taut white T-shirt gave way to a band of black leather that curved over his shoulder and hung down beneath his arm. A holster, with a gun. A big, black, deadly looking gun. Make this quick?
“Oh my God.” Caitlin jumped back a step. Mr. Terminator was reaching for his gun! “Don’t shoot me!”
She reached for the nearest thing that looked like protection and came up with the nozzle on the vacuum cleaner. She held it in front of her in both hands like a weapon.
Sean froze. He looked at the nozzle. He looked at Caitlin. He looked down to where his hand hovered beside the holster. Then he looked at her again, studying her frightened expression with a cockeyed squint that indicated he thought she was the crazy person here.
Their gazes held for about two seconds, just long enough for her courage to waver. Then he was moving again. All-business. He pulled a leather wallet from an inside jacket pocket. “Don’t worry, McCormick. I guess I should have used a little more finesse in my invitation. But I’m afraid smooth moves just aren’t my style.” He inclined his head toward the nozzle she wielded in her hand. “If it’s any consolation, neither is shooting a woman who could suck my brains out.”
Suck? Caitlin’s heart tripped an extra beat. A raw rush of heat and pressure pounded between her legs and left her lightheaded. Sex? This guy wanted her to…? Her gaze flew to his crotch. She’d never. She wanted. She wouldn’t. “How dare you!”
“Here.” He flipped open his wallet. Inside she saw an official-looking ID and a polished brass badge. Uh-oh. “I’m Special Agent Sean Maddox, ma’am. I’m with the FBI.”
The nervous excitement that had pounded through her body flooded her neck and face with embarrassment. Sucking. The vacuum. He’d been talking about the vacuum. Of course. Idiot.
“FBI?”
Ignoring the aftershocks of sexual frustration and indignation that were slow to die, she gathered her wits and took the wallet in a tentative grasp. She studied it a few moments. The picture matched. He hadn’t been smiling when this ID photo was taken, either. U.S. Department of Justice. Federal Bureau of Investigation. Sean Michael Maddox. DOB 05/29/71.
“It is your birthday,” she murmured out loud, but read on. New England Bureau Administrative Chief. Though the tension eased from her posture, suspicion quickly took its place.
She handed back the wallet. “Your ID says ‘Administrative Chief’, not ‘special agent.’ And Virginia’s a little out of your New England territory. Either you’re a liar or that’s fake.”
“I assure you, my work with the FBI is very real.” He returned the wallet to his pocket, making a dramatic effort to show her that he wasn’t going anywhere near his gun. “What I’m about to tell you can’t go beyond this apartment, Miss McCormick.”
Oh God. That sounded serious. Dangerous. His warning, articulated with just the barest indication of a foreign accent, sounded like a line right out of a James Bond movie.
Interesting.
The aftershocks of emotion inside her gained momentum.
“You mean it’s a secret?”
“Top secret.”
Despite her distrust of Agent Maddox or Chief Maddox or whoever the hell this distracting hulk of male animal was, the right side of her brain kicked in, pushing logic and protestations aside. He was about to share a government secret with her. Caitlin breathed in deeply, giving her brain plenty of oxygen to fuel her imagination. She was about to become privy to some real cloak-and-dagger information.
“Is Cassie in trouble with the FBI?” she asked.
“No. But she was going to help me with a time-sensitive case. A mutual friend gave me her name. She was going to provide my cover this weekend while I conducted an undercover investigation.” He paused to read Caitlin’s reaction, then continued without comment. “Since she’s unavailable, I’m asking you to take her place. I need you to be my mistress so I can gain access to an exclusive couples-only resort.”
This man was asking her to take part in an investigation? To travel? To serve her country? To assume a secret role? To be a man’s mistress?
Her father would have a cow.
“Me?”
“You.”
She glanced down at her brother Travis’s USMC T-shirt and the cutoff jeans she wore. She glanced at the vacuum nozzle she still held like a defensive weapon between them.
When she lifted her gaze back to his, his calm green eyes revealed nothing but the fact that his offer was serious. “You want me to be your mistress this weekend?”
He swiped a hand across his jaw and raised his eyes to the ceiling. Caitlin could only guess what this show of patience was costing him.
When he nailed her with those amazingly green eyes—no blue or gray to corrupt their mossy hue—she saw he was all-business again. “I need you to pretend to be my mistress. Pretend,” he emphasized. “Pleasure Cove Island is a haven for rich and powerful couples to get away for the weekend without any public scrutiny. No press. No phone lines. The Bureau has given me a fake background. As a Bureau chief, I have the clout to warrant an invitation. But I can’t very well go to a couples-only resort by myself without raising suspicion, and that’s the last thing I want to do. I need to find answers, and I need to find them quickly.”
“Answers to what?”
“Dammit, lady, I don’t have time to answer all your questions.” His patience snapped and he stalked down the hall to the front door. He had it open and was halfway out when he braced his hand against the open frame and stopped. His broad back rippled with a powerful shrug, and Caitlin realized the width and strength of him was all-man, and not due to the cut of the sport coat.
She held her own breath as she listened to his lungs fill and empty with cleansing breaths of air. When he finally turned around to face her, the anger was gone. But he still wasn’t smiling.
“I can’t give you all the details,” he explained. “Suffice it to say two former guests of Pleasure Cove Island have met with…unfortunate circumstances. One just resigned at the peak of a public career. The other is dead.”
“Dead?” Could the man sound any more detached from his feelings? Caitlin scooped her hair back from her temples. The more Sean Maddox talked, the more convincing his story became. She was already physically attracted to him. He gave the beast of her sexual fantasies a compelling, if not quite handsome, face.
His request for her help played into every escapist fantasy she’d ever had while trying to spice up her humdrum life. But now he was sounding as if this assignment was real. That the need for her help was real.
What should she do? What would her father do? He’d take action. If there was a problem, he’d do something about it, and deal with the consequences later. Her brothers had the same take-charge mindset. But all three would tell her to stay home. To stay safe. Think of your health. Think of your reputation. They’d tell her to take care of herself, while they tackled the problem for her.
But her father and brothers couldn’t help Agent Maddox with this problem. They weren’t women. They weren’t available.
They weren’t here. Now.
A small spark of determination lit inside her. Like a fuse traveling toward its explosive destination, it fired along her nerve endings, heating her blood and giving strength to an idea.
“Would this weekend be dangerous?” She hugged the vacuum hose to her chest, half-afraid of giving in to the burning desire that was slowly consuming her. “You said someone died.”
“Not on the island itself. He was murdered in his hotel room after returning from the island. This is strictly an information-gathering mission. Otherwise, the Bureau wouldn’t consider civilian involvement. There may be some risk involved, I suppose—the movers and shakers of the world don’t like to be deceived.”
“No one does.” Her terse reply was both an agreement and a challenge for him to be completely honest.
Sean released his grip on the door and stepped back inside. Even though it brought him only a few inches closer Caitlin felt the power of his vow reaching out and touching her as he said, “I promise, if things do turn dangerous, I’ll give you all the protection I can. And I’ll get you out of there as soon as humanly possible.”
Caitlin imagined that his protection would be a serious force to be reckoned with. The idea that this Terminator would put his life on the line for hers was at once reassuring and…stimulating. Her father and brothers served their country and protected its citizens with equal fervor. Why couldn’t she?
And pretending to be his mistress? Let’s see. What was the downside of having an extraordinarily powerful and sexy man acting like her lover? If the other guests could buy the fact that Sean Maddox wanted to be with her, it wouldn’t be the worst way to spend a weekend.
Sexy man.
Vacation resort.
Serving her country.
Living out a lifelong fantasy.
Hmm. Downside?
She was back to her father having that cow.
But he was still on his boat in Chesapeake Bay. Ethan was in Washington, D.C., Travis in North Carolina. They couldn’t fret or dictate when they didn’t know something was going on.
“You said this was top secret. Does that mean I can’t tell anyone where I’m going or what I’m doing? Not even my family?”
“Not a soul.”
Dad and Ethan and Travis would never know what sweet little Caitlin was up to.
Caitlin was tempted. Oh, Lordy, she was tempted. But how could she be sure this wasn’t really just some sick way to pick up women? Could she trust Cassie’s judgment about the man? Her roommate had been willing to go. Until a better offer came along.
But this was likely to be the best—most exciting—offer Caitlin was ever going to get.
“Listen, I know you don’t know if you can trust me. But you’ve got about two seconds to make a decision. Maine is a long way from here.” Sean shifted uncomfortably on his feet, the first real sign of any emotion beyond anger and impatience. “I don’t ask for favors from many people, Miss McCormick, because I don’t like to be disappointed. But I’m asking you to help me now. For your country.”
“I’m the only one who can help?” He didn’t answer her. But the steely set of his jaw told her he hadn’t found it easy to ask for her assistance. Caitlin finally set down the vacuum hose.
He expected her to be one of those people who disappointed him.
He expected her to say no.
She decided to act strictly on impulse. It was a liberating feeling. She didn’t know if it was the McCormick in her—ready to do her patriotic duty—or the good girl in her, anxious to please those around her. Maybe it was the dreamer who had waited far too long to crash out of her sheltered life and have a real adventure.
It might even have been her woman’s heart deciding. The heart that wanted to rekindle Sean Maddox’s faith in the world.
“I’ll go with you on two conditions, Agent Maddox.”
He rolled his shoulders back, giving the false appearance that he was relaxing his stance. His eyes still refused to show hope. “What are they?”
“That my father never finds out where I am this weekend.” She shrugged, hoping she wouldn’t regret this impulse, hoping Agent Maddox wouldn’t regret it, either. “And that we stop by a post office somewhere on the way to Maine so I can mail my rent check.”
“Done.” Caitlin barely had time to grab the rent envelope and her purse before he pulled her out the door.
4
“SORRY WE COULDN’T TAKE more time, but we’ll be driving straight through the night as it is just to make the ferry connection tomorrow evening at five.” As Sean spoke, he steered his car down the D.C. exit out of Alexandria, Virginia, and pulled into the northeast flow of traffic on the interstate.
While he wasn’t ready to admit that his luck with women had changed, his mood, at least, had improved. He had a date. It had been a long time since he’d had a date, and even though this one was on behalf of the government, he was glad to know he could still get a woman to say yes to his rusty charms.
Even if it was a woman as unpredictable as Caitlin McCormick.
According to Thomas’s documentation in the little black book, Cassie was pretty much a known quantity. She’d do some flirting. Indulge in friendly chatter. She wouldn’t be afraid of a few public displays of affection.
But Caitlin was an unknown factor. For some reason she’d said yes to his outlandish invitation. She was either a real patriot or a woman who took foolish chances. He’d like to think she was the former. He could appreciate that kind of dedication to a cause.
But she might be just plain crazy. After all, she talked to furniture and threatened men with vacuum cleaners.
Maybe it was a good thing he’d chosen to drive to Maine and avoid the security checks and flight delays of air travel. He’d need the extended time together to get to know her and establish a predictable working relationship with her.
“You doing okay back there?” he asked.
Sean peeked into his rearview mirror and saw the reflection of one long female leg thrust up into the air from his back seat. The leg was long and tanned and showed off sleek curves of muscle along the calf and thigh. He was definitely enjoying this part of the getting-to-know-each-other process.
The leather interior of his Porsche 911 Targa had never been used as a dressing room before, but the idea took on a definite appeal when a second leg—equally long and curved and perfect—thrust up into the air beside the first one moments before a swatch of denim swept over them. Sean squashed down his body’s responding tension and turned his focus back to the road.
She was only a couple years older than his sister. A kid in comparison to his lifetime of experience. If Sabrina had agreed to gallivant halfway across the country with a stranger she’d just met—even if he did flash a badge—Sean would have her hide. Correction. He’d have the bastard’s hide.
Caitlin had hinted at having an overprotective father so, as an overprotective brother, he should be able to relate. He definitely wasn’t having brotherly thoughts right now, though.
Caitlin’s breathless voice came from behind him in the back seat. “I’m fine. I appreciate you running across to that discount store and buying me a dress while I was in the post office. I can’t very well show up at a posh resort in my cutoffs.” She grunted as she struggled with some piece of clothing. “What do I owe you for it?”
“Not a thing. The Bureau is paying for everything this weekend.” Sean’s gaze slid back to the mirror. She wasn’t making it easy to concentrate on good intentions. Her long-limbed build made it a struggle to change from her shorts into the black sundress he’d bought for her.
But it was an entertaining struggle to watch. With the car on cruise control, he tilted his head to get a better view down into the seat behind him. Caitlin was lying across the leather upholstery, scrunched down out of sight of passing motorists. She’d stripped down to her underwear, demure triangles of pink cotton that covered interesting places without really hiding them. Her small, pert nipples strained against the pink cloth as she pulled the dress over her head and shimmied it down the length of her body. Before she got things into place, he noted a wisp of darker gold hair peeking from beneath the cotton at the juncture of her thighs.
Innocent as her movements were, his body reacted as if the actions were part of a calculated seduction. In the close confines of the car, the earthy smell of the leather combined with the enticingly fresh scent of Caitlin herself. It was an erotic male-female stimulation of the senses that only intensified his imagination. He subtly tugged on the denim at his crotch and adjusted his position behind the wheel to ease the growing tightness in his groin. He could picture himself in the back seat with her, with those legs of hers high in the air and him in between them.
Get a grip, Sean. Sensing fatigue and frustration were fueling his randy thoughts, he politely turned away and changed lanes. But an inexplicable fascination soon had his gaze focused back in the mirror.
Now she was on her knees in a crouching position. Her sweet round rump bobbed up and down as she fought to work the zipper up her back. Oh man. He spread his knees a little farther apart.
“Need some help?” The offer was out of his mouth before common sense could stop his hormones.
Caitlin’s head popped up in the rearview mirror. Her honey-gold hair bounced around her head in wanton disarray as if he had been in the back seat with her. But her cheeks were rosy pink and her eyes wide and startled. Their gazes locked in the mirror before he could look away.
But if she was embarrassed to learn he’d been watching her, she didn’t say so. Instead, she tossed her white canvas deck shoes onto the floor in front of the passenger seat. “Sure. I can’t get this danged zipper up. There’s not much room to maneuver back here.”
Bracing a hand against each bucket seat backrest, she stretched one leg between them and climbed forward. In the process the gentle swell of one breast rubbed across his upper arm.
With sight and scent already providing the tinder, the actual press of female flesh provided the spark that zapped Sean’s fantasy into a reality. His fingers clenched around the wheel as his primed body jerked in response. “Watch it!”
“Sean!”
The car swerved to the left. Caitlin toppled onto him. Suddenly he was cradled from ear to cheek in the softness of her breasts. Her tangy, fresh-air scent surrounded him, and the warmth of her body pressing against his consumed him.
In the next instant, he took control of the car and his wayward reactions. He righted the wheel, steered them safely into the passing lane and pushed against Caitlin’s thigh, forcing her down into her seat. She landed with a plop on her bottom, as a flush of color raced across her skin.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she answered breathlessly. Keeping her gaze fixed on the dashboard, she dropped her feet to the floor, slipped into the shoes and buckled her seat belt. Only after she was breathing more evenly did he see her big gray eyes dart his way. “Sorry.”
“No harm.” He kept his gaze on the last dregs of rush-hour traffic and concentrated on his driving instead of on the gangly beauty beside him.
They’d passed the next mile marker before she angled her face toward him with a wry frown. “Not a very auspicious start to my secret-agent career.”
Oh, no. Miss McCormick needed a quick reality check. “I’m the secret agent. You’re on vacation.”
“But I want to help.”
“You are, just by coming with me.”
That answer seemed to disappoint her. “What will I be doing while you’re investigating the island?”
“You’ll be acting as my girlfriend. My mistress. We’ll have to do a little kissing and cuddling in public to justify our presence there, but otherwise it’s a free day at the spa for you. Use the hot tub or whatever facilities they’ve got. It’s on the Bureau.”
Now she turned her whole body in her seat. The look she gave him must have let any number of junior-high students know they were in trouble. “You said I’d be serving my country. I agreed to do this because I wanted to see some action. How is sitting in a hot tub doing my patriotic duty?”
Sean raised a placating hand. “I’m the one who’s trained in covert ops and investigation procedures. I’m the one with the gun and the experience.”
“And I’m just Mr. Untouchable’s moll. Yippee.” She turned again and glared out the windshield. She crossed her arms with a decisive shrug, and the black strap of her sundress fell off her shoulder and caught in the crook of her elbow.
Sean narrowed his eyes on the road, but couldn’t resist the urge to glance over at that long stretch of bare skin. Too long without sex, his mind warned. He felt equally powerless to stop himself from reaching out and lifting that strap up onto her shoulder. So what if the back of his knuckles brushed across the smooth skin there? He didn’t mind.
He did mind when she flinched away from his caress. “You’ll have to get used to me touching you,” he warned, placing his hand safely back on the wheel. “And you can’t be afraid to touch me. Not if we’re going to make a convincing couple.”
“I’m not afraid of you. I’m angry.” She scooped her hair behind her ear, exposing a long line of naked neck for him to stew over while she lectured him. “My father is a retired Marine Corps general. He served his country proudly for over thirty-five years. My brothers are following in his footsteps. One is specializing in diplomatic security and the other works in Special Forces.” Her touch-me-not glare never wavered from the endless stretch of cars and highway before them. “I’ve always wanted to give to our country the way they do. I’ve wanted to be a part of the action.”
Sean wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but it was his nature to play devil’s advocate. “So why didn’t you enlist or go through ROTC? There are plenty of women making careers in the military.” Her long silence prompted him to look her way again. He saw one hand nervously picking at the hem of her dress where it rested high on her thigh. She had gone somewhere inside herself. Not for the first time, he wondered if he’d picked the wrong woman for this job. Not that he’d had much choice. “Caitie?”
“My name is Caitlin.” She muttered the correction as if by rote. As if he wasn’t the first person she’d set straight on not using the shortened version of her name. Just when he thought she might not say another word, she lifted her gaze to his. The energy that had thrummed through her—part anticipation, part anger—had dissipated. “I can’t pass the physical.”
“Oh.” Sean looked back at the road and slowed the car to maneuver the twisty highway that circled around Washington, D.C. Was Caitlin ill? Flat-footed? Crazy? He brought up pImages** of her body, already well-ingrained in his memory. Long, strong legs. Soft, flawless skin. Wild, sexy hair. To look at her, Caitlin McCormick was the picture of a healthy, fit woman.
“What’s wrong with you?” he finally asked when she didn’t explain further. He shook his head. An interrogation with a criminal suspect he could handle blindfolded. But this conversation wasn’t going so well. Maybe his perpetual lack of charm with the ladies was partially to blame for his extended celibacy. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be blunt. But if it could affect my investigation, I have a right to know. I mean, are you going to have a heart attack on me? Am I keeping you from a dialysis treatment?”
She took a deep breath that stirred the best parts of her body. “I have asthma. It’s a chronic disorder that stems from lung damage I sustained when I was hospitalized with pneumonia as a child. I’ve outgrown the worst of the attacks. I take regular medication for it, which generally keeps it under control. But sometimes unusual stress or an allergic reaction can still trigger it. I’ll cough or wheeze and have shortness of breath. Then I’ll use my inhaler or, on rare occasions, take an epinephrine shot. But it isn’t life threatening. It just…keeps me out of the action.”
Apparently this wasn’t the first time she’d been asked to explain her condition. Her speech had been glib and well-rehearsed. And alarming. “Unusual stress?”
Caitlin laughed, but her lips were pressed together too tightly for her expression to qualify as a smile. “I don’t run marathons, I don’t work in a coal mine or with hazardous chemicals. I don’t own a cat.”
“Any of those things could trigger an attack?”
She nodded. “But I do swim three times a week. I go sailing when I can. I have a teaching career. I read a lot.”
“What do you read?”
“Fantasy. Action-adventure. Romance. Mysteries. Classics. Biographies—”
“A little of everything, huh?”
She nodded and sank back into that quiet place inside herself again.
He listened to the hum of the tires on the pavement for several minutes, processing everything she’d told him. She read books to find the adventures she couldn’t experience herself. But she clearly wasn’t an invalid. She exercised regularly—her fine, toned body was proof of that. She probably lived her life on a predictably even keel. He’d shown up at her front door and had bullied and cajoled and practically dared her to play his mistress this weekend.
What should he do? Turn the car around and drive her home? Risk an asthma attack? Take her back to her safe, sedate apartment and her books, or take her to Maine and put her in the middle of a charade that could prove very stressful?
“Why did you say yes to my proposition?” he finally asked.
“Because I thought it sounded exciting. Well, it did until you said I wouldn’t be doing anything except sitting in the hot tub.” Her reprimand gave way to a heavy sigh. “And because you said it was top secret. My father would never have to find out. He’s a little overprotective.”
Sean could definitely relate. “I’ll bet he’s more than a little overprotective.”
“He thinks my brothers can take care of themselves. My mother died when I was young, so I get a lot of his attention. He had a heart attack that forced him into early retirement, and I try not to aggravate his concerns. I lead a pitifully sheltered life for a twenty-seven-year-old woman. I haven’t been any man’s girlfriend for over a year, much less any man’s mistress.” She folded up the faded T-shirt she’d been wearing earlier and clutched it in her lap. “I suppose you want to drop me off at the nearest bus station and send me home now.”
Sean slid his eyes across the dashboard clock and let her sad, dull tone sink into his bones. He was at twenty-one hours and counting. He wanted to do the right thing here, but he had a job to do, too.
Met with his moody silence, Caitlin rambled on. “At least I got to change my clothes in the back seat of a sports car. I’ve never done that before. Heck, I’ve never even ridden in a car like this before. Low-slung and fast and hot.”
Heck? Was this innocent act for real? Sean’s jaded sense of trust was being thrown off-kilter by her guileless confessions. She had a body made for sex, but she talked like a…well, someone very naive.
Needing some fresh air, he pushed a button on the dashboard and opened up the sunroof. Caitlin angled her head to watch the smoked Plexiglas slide back and reveal the full moon above them. The rush of cool night air lifted her hair and made it dance along that tantalizing column of bare neck.
So much for cooling off.
“Nice touch,” she whispered.
I’ll say.
Though she was still talking about going home, her voice picked up a more positive note. “You asked me to go away with you. A decently attractive man, on the spur of the moment without knowing anything about me, asked me to go away with him for the weekend. That’s something that would happen to Cassie, not me.”
“Decently attractive, hmm?”
The sudden stain of color on her cheeks made him think that had been more than a pretty decent compliment. Those big gray eyes, when she turned them on him, were full of honesty, a trace of embarrassment and something bolder that reflected her intelligence and strength. The effect was absolutely bewitching.
“That didn’t come out the way I intended. You’re not conventionally handsome, but—” When her gaze dropped to his chest, Sean inhaled deeply, trying to dispel the curious warmth that suffused him. Her eyes darkened in response and the warmth refused to leave. “—you’re put together very nicely. And I love your accent. It almost sounds foreign. Even when you’re all-business, I like listening to it.”
Sean narrowed his focus to the endless white lines dotting the road in front of him. Maybe he was the crazy one. During his relationship with Elise, she’d never once got him all hot and bothered with just an appreciative look and an ingenuous compliment. But Caitlin McCormick did.
It had to be those damn months of all work and no sex that had him wanting to teach this sheltered wannabe adventuress how to act on those longing looks. He’d never been a sucker for sad stories or quirky charms, but he half wished he and Caitlin were really going away for a weekend of sex together. Damn, what he’d love to teach the teacher.
Stick to the job, a nagging voice tried to warn him. But his brain had been working overtime for these past few weeks. Another part of his anatomy needed a workout right now. Caitlin liked him. He liked that she liked him. Probably more than he should.
“My mother’s American, but my father’s British. I’ve picked up some of his speech habits.”
Sean could tell she liked that revelation by the smile that softened her worried expression. “So you’re a real James Bond.”
He shook his head. “My dad was, though. You like James Bond?”
“Of course. Fast cars. Evil villains. Gadgets and intrigue and sex and adventure.”
And then Sean had his answer. They both needed what the other had to give. “Do you still think you can handle this weekend? I can’t promise it’ll be stress free. But if you’re up to it, I’ll even put you in charge of distracting the other guests while I do some in-depth searching of the premises.”
She perked up another notch. “You’d give me an assignment?”
He glanced across the car at her. She was quite pretty when she smiled like that. “If you’re up to it. I don’t really have time to find someone else,” he added honestly.
Now she sat straight up. “I can do it. I have all my meds in my purse in case I have a reaction. I want to help.”
Sean hoped he wasn’t making a mistake here. He promised himself to keep a very careful eye on her. He promised to remember her concerns about her father. But there was something strangely seductive about granting Caitlin McCormick her wish. Something that coursed through his veins just as powerfully as his sexual attraction to her did.
“All right, then, Agent 99, prepare yourself for a weekend of adventure.” He twirled his finger in the air. “Turn around.”
“Why?”
At last he felt like smiling. “Because you haven’t really finished dressing inside a sports car yet.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed with color before she scooted around in her seat and offered him her back.
He squinted assessingly. He’d never really thought too much about the type of woman he liked. But right here and now he decided that tall was the way to go. The black dress opened in a V, revealing a long stretch of lightly tanned skin. The pink bra strap halfway up wasn’t a barrier, but a reminder of the small, pert breasts that graced the other side of her wonderful body. He found the tongue of the zipper and slid it slowly up her back, wishing he could put his tongue there instead.
Maybe before the weekend was over…
When his fingers brushed against her nape, she shivered. He shivered, too. But cold was definitely not the sensation he was feeling.
Fully dressed, Caitlin settled back into her seat and turned those dove-gray eyes on him. He discreetly pulled his hand away before giving in to the urge to touch her again.
“I suppose we’ll need to practice that kissing and cuddling part you mentioned. So I don’t get goose bumps every time you touch me.”
Her invitation was the best birthday present he could have hoped for after what had started out as a rotten, frustrating day.
“The goose bumps are a nice effect.” Instead of driving as fast as he legally could, Sean was suddenly looking forward to their next stop. “But I’d be willing to put in some practice time.”
After too many weeks of all work, it was high time this birthday boy enjoyed a little play.
5
SEAN EYED THE NEEDLE of the gas gauge as it teetered into the red zone. The car wasn’t the only thing running on empty.
He’d driven four hours straight, following Interstate 95 north through most of the East Coast megalopolis. But with the dim glow of the endless city lights behind him now, he was starting to drag. Normally, a quick catnap could keep him going around the clock, but until he set foot on Pleasure Cove Island and his cover was in place, he had no intention of taking the time to rest.
But as he pulled into New Haven, Connecticut, he knew he needed to risk a short stop. He needed gas, caffeine and a jog around the car. Maybe even a little of that training time with Caitlin.
If she was up for it.
Right now, however, Caitlin was dozing peacefully, in her sleep mumbling something about a “sir” every now and then. Sean hadn’t fed her dinner yet, either, but she seemed blissfully unconcerned by that fact. She leaned against the car door with his jacket curled up beneath her cheek for a pillow.
As he slowed the vehicle to merge with the smattering of late-night traffic through town, he envied her trusting nature. To her, this mission was all a game. A secret adventure that her father and brothers couldn’t take away from her. She was going into this weekend ready to play, ready to risk.
He was all for the play part, but he’d protect her as best he could from any risk.
He still wondered why this undercover trip was such a big deal to her. Her father and brothers must have some good reason for keeping a tight rein on her. Did she normally take foolish chances? Was she a political zealot? Was she itching to be a bad girl because she was going through some kind of pre-midlife crisis or because some man had done her wrong?
Maybe the answer was more important than he realized. But for now, it was enough that she’d agreed to this adventure. He had the mistress he needed for the weekend, and she had her shot at unrestricted freedom.
Though he was no pro in the relationship department, he was confident that they could make this work. For three days. They could do the James Bond thing she fantasized about, and he could find the information he needed. And if they had a little fun along the way, that would be the icing on his birthday cake.
And if not?
He glanced over at the sleeping Amazon princess and heaved a sigh.
He could stand anything for three days. Even an adventure-seeking schoolmarm who was a little flaky and a whole lot naïve. His gaze traveled over her. And who had legs to die for. And miles of soft, velvety skin that just begged to be touched. All over.
“Damn.” He scratched his chin and concentrated on the road signs leading to a secluded gas station. “Focus,” he warned himself.
Maybe Thomas was right. Sean had neglected his personal life for way too long. His job gave him satisfaction but he also used it as an excuse to avoid any messy entanglements with women.
Caitlin McCormick had messy written all over her. His deprived body wanted her something fierce, yet his self-preservation instincts wondered how he could walk away from this weekend with everybody’s expectations met, his body sated and his conscience intact.
The only decision he could make right now was to pull into the parking lot of the dimly lit convenience store and gas station and park the Porsche in the shadowed space farthest from the door. It was a defensive habit long ingrained after his years with the Bureau, prying into the lives of people who rarely welcomed a federal investigation.
Though he didn’t think he had any reason to be on guard, he nonetheless scoped out the lone attendant and two visible customers inside the store before parking his car beyond their direct line of sight. He could grab five minutes of sleep while Caitlin napped, then gas up the car and buy some drinks and snacks for a midnight meal. Feeling more relaxed after making that plan, Sean killed the lights and engine.
Leaning back, he stretched his legs and closed his eyes. He’d let this weekend play out as it may, and deal with whatever came up.
Caitlin stirred in the seat beside him, drawing his attention. Dealing with the situation that presented itself, he reached out and brushed a lock of soft, kinky hair off her cheek. He stroked his fingers along her jaw and tucked the curls behind her ear.
“Mmm.” She stretched and purred like a cat, and Sean lingered to stroke the skin down her throat and find the vibration of that sexy moan. He marveled at the electric sizzle he felt whenever he touched her. Was this incendiary reaction to the creamy perfection of her skin just a lonely testament to his sorry love life?
Caitlin’s eyes blinked open.
“I’ll go with you,” she murmured.
“Don’t worry about it. We can rest for a few minutes.”
She smiled gratefully and blinked again. “Yes, sir.”
“We don’t need to be so formal. Call me Sean.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Her comment made no sense to him, but he was entranced.
Without any further comment or protest to ward him off, Sean left his fingers resting against her throat. He could imagine this was how she awakened every morning. With dark, drowsy eyes. A come-hither smile. A sleepy tumble of curly hair framing her face. Would she awaken with that same doe-eyed satisfaction in her expression after a night of making love? It was an expression that would make any man feel lucky. Feel potent.
His body lurched in a needy response to her lambent sensuality. He’d like to be that man. He wanted the whole night and the morning after with Caitlin.
Unbuckling his seat belt, he leaned in closer. Fatigue and desire had lowered the protective shield of common sense that normally kept him from making such a tactical error.
But it wasn’t quite midnight yet. He deserved something special for his birthday. And right now, this was the only gift he wanted.
“May I?”
As Caitlin’s eyes drifted shut, Sean pressed his lips to hers. It was a sweet, tender kiss. A taste, really. Her lips were firm and full, with the tempting give of a ripe peach, yet twice as delicious. And when they responded with the same supple energy that made the rest of her body so fascinating to study, he traced his tongue along the seam of her lips and pushed his way inside.
Her lips parted with a breathy sigh, welcoming him. He ran his tongue along the strong arc of her teeth and circled the yielding warmth of the sensitive skin inside. She nipped at his lips with delicate kisses of her own. And as he licked and sucked and tasted, her throat hummed with pleasure. The low-pitched coos entered his brain and traveled like a soft, steady caress down to his groin. Something about those moans—whispers of erotic sound—danced along his nerve endings and triggered an answering sigh deep in the rumbling recesses of his own throat.
They were sex sounds. Mating sounds. More evocative than a cry of rapture. More personal than words. Intimate. Wholly untrained and natural.
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