Man Hunt

by Misty Evans

  “Can you believe this bed?” She flopped back onto the heart-shaped mattress and kicked off her heels. Relief softened her face and she closed her eyes. “I can't decide whether it's completely over-the-top fabulous, or belongs in a porn movie.”

  Razor in hand, Ryker began casually walking around the room. In his earbud, he heard Parker telling him they needed another minute or two to check for video cameras. He had to play it as if they were being watched as well as listened to. “Makes no difference to me,” he said, “as long as you're in it naked, JoJo.”

  Her eyelids flew open and she quirked an eyebrow, lips twisting into a smirk. A gleam lit her eyes. She pushed up on one hand, the cleavage of her dress gaping open and showing him the creamy mound of one breast. Her long, dark tresses trailed over her shoulder. “It's so comfortable.” She patted it as if beckoning him to sit by her. “Once we’re in it, we may never want to get out.”

  She was such a tease, but the perfect actress for this role, and God help him, in that instance, for that second, he wished there was more to their relationship than the mission.

  Shaking off the ridiculous thought, he pretended to look around the big screen television for the remote, being sure the razor came into close contact with all the electrical devices. “If you want porn, I'm sure there’s some available. Let me find the remote.”

  In his ear, Parker gave him good news. “Video surveillance is limited to the hallway. The room is clear, but be aware they can use the television to spy on you.”

  Not if I disconnect it.

  His fingers found the cable and began unscrewing it. Mia saw what he was doing and nodded her understanding.

  “No TV for me. I'm bushed.” She rose from the bed and fake yawned loudly. “I need a nice hot bath and some sleep. Karl's assistant, what was her name? Enya? She has a full day planned for us tomorrow, starting at 10 a.m. with our personal trainers in the gym on the fourth floor. Then there's a couples massage, lunch, shopping in the afternoon, and…” She put her hand to her chin, as if thinking. “Oh, right, Karl invited you to that private poker game tomorrow night.”

  Was it all to keep them busy and out of his hair? Ryker continued his sweep of the room. He pulled up short at a lamp near the bed, silently swearing as the razor’s red light blinked a steady rhythm. Keep up the act. Make them believe you're in love with her. “We won't need the gym. At least I won't.”

  She stopped outside the bathroom door, a silk nightgown in hand, and looked back at him. “Why is that?”

  He pointed to his ear and then to the base of the lamp to let her know someone was indeed listening in on their conversation. “Because you're all the workout I need.”

  She bit her bottom lip as if to keep from laughing at his corniness, then took a deep breath and let it out silently. Back to being JoAn. “You're going to get a workout all right. As soon as I'm done with my bath.”

  He walked the rest of the large suite, finding another listening device inside the phone on the desk. He motioned again to point it out to her. “I thought you were tired, mon coeur.”

  She smirked at his French version of sweetheart. “If we're skipping the gym tomorrow, I can sleep in.”

  A third bug was in the dinette area under the coffee maker. Again he let her know and she nodded. “Maybe I should help you wash your back.”

  “Plenty of room. The shower’s big enough for four and the Jacuzzi can probably hold more.” They were just words, but the way she said them made them sound like an open invitation.

  That voice. Even when she wasn't trying, it made her sound like a sex kitten.

  “I'll get some drinks and be right in.”

  She disappeared inside, closing the door.

  The bugs put a crimp in their plans, but weren’t completely unexpected. All they had to do was be sure whoever was listening believed they were Gaspard and JoAn for the next twenty-four hours.

  Ryker unpacked his suitcase, running through ideas to cement their undercover identities. There was one thing they couldn’t get around if they were going to keep up the charade of being newlyweds—sex.

  Just like the baby angle, sex wasn't part of the script, but being a good spy often required improvisation. He slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and found Mia in front of the mirror, fighting with the zipper on the back of her dress.

  “It's stuck,” she said.

  He stood behind her willing his big fingers to make short work of the zipper. No such luck. A piece was caught in the fabric and no matter how he wiggled, or how much pressure he put on it, it would not budge.

  Mia slapped at his hand. “Don't break it. You’re going to rip the fabric.”

  She had the Jacuzzi faucet open full blast, the sound of falling water most likely muffling their voices. Still, he needed to check for bugs. If the main room was loaded with them, the bathroom probably had at least one. Kaiser—what a bastard.

  Placing his mouth close to her ear, he murmured, “You did really good with our friend.”

  She leaned back so she could speak directly in his ear. “The baby thing wasn't too much?”

  His breath was warm on her neck. “It was quite brilliant.”

  Her smile in the mirror was like a long-awaited reward. Her cheeks flushed. “It’s such a rush, all of this, exactly like I’ve always imagined.”

  It was a rush—the mission, the undercover work, her smile…

  He was suddenly hard. Damn it. “I need to check the room for bugs,” he said. “Can't you raise this over your head?”

  The face she made was one of horror. She turned in a snit, drawing his ear down to her lips. “This is a Carolina Herrera, a custom design. I think Beatrice had it made especially for me!”

  So? He went back to fiddling, working with it in the mirror now that she was facing him. Their faces were so close, he could've kissed her. He tried to stay focused, brushing her cheek with his as he spoke in her ear once more. “You insinuated to our listeners that we were going to have sex when you're done with your bath. So now, we either have to fake it or you have to pretend to get sick. Get a headache or something.”

  He felt her stiffen slightly, her curvy butt hitting the edge of the vanity countertop. She rested her cheek against his, her hands going around his waist. Her breath was warm and she sighed deeply, the wide open faucet covering her words. “A headache is totally lame and I can't pretend I've got an upset stomach after that delicious meal we had or Karl will take offense. Can't we pretend we had sex in here?”

  Her hair smelled like gardenias and her breasts were brushing against his chest. The male in him was responding to this position, her nearness, and the fact he hadn't had sex in far too long. If he wasn't careful, she was going to feel his very obvious erection. He was most definitely having trouble focusing on the zipper now. “Only if there are no listening devices.”

  Her forehead went to his shoulder, as if she were only now realizing her gaffe in the outer room. She was leaning on him, holding him close, and for a moment, his hands stopped moving and he rested them on her shoulders, embracing her back.

  “Maybe there won't be a bug,” he said in her ear. “Or I can get sick. It's okay.”

  Her chin came up, her eyes locking on his. She gave a slight nod, another sigh lifting her chest as if she were trying to bolster herself. Her lips moved silently. Thank you.

  He nodded, some sick part of him slightly disappointed she didn't want to fake sex. He went to work again but the damn thing wouldn’t move. Gritting his teeth, he yanked hard.

  The zipper gave, but only because he ripped it from the fabric. Suddenly the back of the dress parted into two halves. Mia's face paled, her breath hitching. She grabbed for the straps to keep the dress from falling completely off.

  He could practically see steam coming out her ears. He made a face and mouthed, sorry.

  She smacked his chest and he couldn't help but laugh. If he didn't know better, he would swear she was more concerned about damaging the dress t
han faking sex.

  Still chuckling silently, he raised his hands and backed away. Snatching the razor from the counter, he made sure to angle himself so she couldn't see the bulge in his pants.

  She turned around to face the mirror, her hands clinging to the dress. He had gone three steps when the light flashed.

  Damn. He glanced over his shoulder and raised the razor so she can see the light. The listening device was hidden behind a large picture on the wall of a dozen naked nymphs playing beside a stream.

  Mia made a face, and in his mind, he could hear her mental groan of disappointment. If they were going to sell the fact they'd had sex, they would have to put on their own porn show for those listening.

  The tub was filled with bubbles, the air heavy with humidity. Mia motioned with her finger for him turn around.

  He didn’t have to imagine the dress hitting the floor, but thanks to his peripheral vision, he saw the flash of red in the mirror, saw her long legs step toward the tub.

  Holy Jesus. Had she been naked under that dress the whole time?

  His cock ached. There was no way he could fake sex without her seeing how much she turned him on.

  The water slowed to a stop, and he heard the splash of Mia stepping in. A second later, he heard her moan. The sound shot straight to his dick.

  Get out.

  He had to get away from her. Now.

  Barely able to walk due to his throbbing dick, he left her in silence, closing the door behind him and wiping sweat from his forehead as he leaned against the door.

  His watch read two a.m. Four hours until the sun rose. How the hell was he going to get through the rest of the night with her?

  Chapter Six

  Be prepared to be flexible

  * * *

  What was wrong with Ryker?

  For the moment, she put him out of her mind, soaking up the last of the relaxing bath, the last few bubbles popping and her skin beginning to prune.

  Her first mission. Maybe her only one. It was serious stuff, but she thought it would be more fun. Someday when she was eighty, she wanted a story to tell her grandchildren about her first exciting mission undercover.

  Most of it was fun. The times when she was center stage pretending to be Ryker’s wife were a hoot. She loved the clothes and jewelry, and if she were being honest, flirting with him. He was good at rolling with her spur of the moment storylines. Case in point, he hadn't missed a beat when she’d thrown out the I can't have a baby act with Karl. It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time. They’d never worked as a team of equals undercover, and yet they seemed to fit together perfectly.

  Her heart beat a little quicker thinking about Ryker and his reactions when she flirted with him. The way his body had behaved when she leaned into him before he’d broken the zipper on her dress…

  Now that had been fun. Innocently teasing him when she didn't have to. Seeing how hard he fought his physical reaction to her in that slinky dress had been priceless. She had to admit her ego liked it. Hell, she loved it. The men at the bar who were always hitting on her made her feel dirty and cheap. They treated her like she should be flattered by their attention, when in reality, she hated it. Her body was not part of a package that went with their beer. To them, however, she was nothing more than another pretty waitress for them to harass.

  With Ryker, she felt completely in control and valued. He might not have liked or trusted her before this, but he hadn't really known her. He still didn't, but even though they hadn't sat around having deep heart-to-heart conversations, there was a level of respect and trust now. Add in the fact he was so smolderingly sexy, and it was a lethal cocktail. The thrill of the mission, the expensive clothes, the fancy suite…what would it be like to live this way all the time?

  Mia grabbed a plush towel from its hanger and began drying off. Poor Ryker. This whole thing had to be hard on him. He’d had to leave Jaeger behind, dive back into a world of espionage, and pretend to be married to her. She was an unknown, even now. He had to stay fast on his feet to keep up with her and was probably at this very moment trying to plan how to get out of having sex with her—fake sex, of course, which was probably as uncomfortable as any of the things he'd ever done.

  Actors did it all the time, pretending to be in love and acting out sex for the camera. All she had to do was convince Ryker she could give an Oscar-winning performance and not embarrass him in the process.

  An idea burned bright. Throwing on her nightgown, she fluffed her hair and went to find him.

  The patio doors were open, letting in a cool night breeze off the river. Ryker, out on the balcony, leaned on the railing. He didn't seem to notice the beautiful night, the lights reflecting on the water, the stars overhead. He gripped the railing tight, shoulders bunching under his shirt. Was it the mission or Jaeger? Probably both, and he was worried about her earlier comment. It had been stupid to suggest they were going to have sex, but wasn't that what young, happily married couples did? They were in a romantic honeymoon suite after all, and they needed Kaiser to believe in their story no matter what.

  I have to fix this. Walking to the balcony, Mia ignored the goosebumps rising on her skin. She touched Ryker. Could the listening devices hear them from out here?

  “I thought you were going to wash my back, and here I find you going over that spreadsheet again.”

  He gave her a funny look.

  She leaned over his strong arm to speak softly in his ear. “I'm going to fix the mess I put us in, but you'll have to play along, even if it makes you uncomfortable. Trust me.”

  His body softened and he turned to lean against the railing, lifting one eyebrow and nodding at her. “I had an emergency call from a supplier in Burma. I got sidetracked.”

  Perfect. Now to keep up the act.

  “This is the last weekend of our honeymoon and then it's back to work on Monday. Can you please forget about business for the rest of our weekend? Go dark to your suppliers. Turn off your phone and let's forget about the world for a little while longer.”

  Another nod to let her know he was onboard. “You’re right. Let's go to bed and get some sleep. I promise to make it up to you tomorrow.”

  He was trying to give her an easy out. Easy outs, though, could raise suspicions, and that was the last thing they needed.

  She took his hand and dragged him inside, steering him close to the bed and the listening device planted in the lamp. “You’ll make it up to me tonight, my love.”

  Before he could react, she went on her toes and kissed him. Not gentle and quiet, but loud and soul sucking. She parted her lips and tongued him, almost laughing at his shocked response.

  A second later, however, he was truly in on the game, drawing her to him and delivering a return kiss that nearly knocked her socks off. She groaned, pressing her breasts against his chest and raking her fingers through his hair.

  It was working…better than she’d expected. Her mind was having trouble staying in acting mode, thinking about the next move, rather than simply succumbing to his touch.

  Her fingers found his belt on their own accord, unbuckling it noisily and giving it a jerk from the loops. It clanked against the nightstand almost as if she’d planned it.

  Which she had. Sort of.

  Ryker’s hands roamed over her shoulders, down her arms. The goosebumps intensified, warring with his touch that set her on fire.

  His pelvis met hers and his strong legs took them down to the bed, the backs of her knees hitting the edge of the mattress. She felt suddenly breathless, the fire spreading through her limbs.

  It's just pretend, she reminded herself.

  Tell that to my body. Her wicked, renegade body that was ready to go all the way.

  She broke the kiss, staring into his dark eyes. They were molten lava, dark pools of desire, showing her his own fire.

  What was she doing? What were they doing?

  Just an act, she told herself again, ignoring her fast pulse and the throb, the ache, betwe
en her thighs. Get on with it.

  “Oh, Gaspard.” Her ragged gasp wasn't pretense, her words breathy and low. “That’s how I like it.”

  A smirk. Ryker’s voice was as rough as hers. “You certainly know how to take my mind off work.”

  Something in his eyes told her that was the truth, not something he was saying as part of his act.

  Ho-boy.

  Grabbing him by the arms, she jerked him down, making the frame squeak and pop for the listening devices. “Touch me right there…that's it. Oh yeah.”

  God, she sounded like a horrible porn star.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He lay next to her, propping his head on one hand and grinning. “Damn, you’re so hot, so ripe for me.”

  A tingle went through her, his words seeming entirely too accurate for her liking. She made a moaning sound—it came out with ease. “I could barely keep…my hands off you…at dinner.”

  “Naughty girl.” He smothered his face slightly against her shoulder as if trailing kisses over her skin. “If I’d known you were naked under that dress, I would’ve taken you three times before we got to the restaurant.”

  “I am naughty.” She chuckled, loving the feel of his lips against her skin. Another moan pressed against her throat, her imagination showing her what Ryker would look like naked. “God, you’re so…big.”

  The words were out before she could call them back. He quirked an eyebrow and the grin turned wolfish. “And you’re so tight. Spread your legs for me, mon coeur.”

  His eyes glittered as he stared into her face and her pulse felt like a stampeding herd of buffalo. She had to squeeze her thighs together to keep from obeying his command.

  This is no act.

  Everything in her wanted to press herself against him and make sure he was hard. Would that tell her if he was faking it? All he had to do was look down to see her nipples jutting under the silk nightie, begging him to touch them, to know she was turned on.

  He pushed onto both hands and started making the bed go up and down. The mattress, their co-conspirator, helped them by beginning a rhythmic screechscreechscreech.