Doing my best to lock away my panic in a metal box, I smile at them. If Landon trusts his colleagues can keep me safe, then I need to give them the same level of faith, too.
“Well, it’s nice meeting you.” I make a show of checking the time on the wall clock. “I should go and set up for the morning.”
I release Landon’s hand and immediately miss its warm strength. His hand goes to the small of my back, and his thumb lightly caresses the skin under my blouse. Even though we’re not talking skin-on-skin contact, a hum of electricity migrates through me from the spot.
It’s been forever since my body responded to a man that way.
And look how that turned out.
Oh, well.
Fortunately, I’m aware that what Landon and I have is nothing more than smoke and mirrors. He’ll be gone once I’m safe again. There are no expectations of happily ever afters.
Too bad I can’t tell my best friend that.
Kiera flashes me a look that screams, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” It’s the fifth time she’s done that in the past ten minutes while the four of us—including Landon—eat lunch in the staff room.
“Maybe I’m using him for sex,” I blurt, half joking.
Three pairs of eyes—two wide as paper plates, one crinkled with suppressed laughter—stare back at me.
Oops. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
Especially when he and I won’t actually be having sex.
Never mind that this sex dry-spell is growing old.
Way beyond old.
I shrug at their expressions. I mean, what can I say? Kiera is going to believe Landon and I are having sex, regardless of what I tell them. That’s a perk of being in a relationship.
They know I’m not a virgin.
They know I’m not waiting for “The One” before having sex.
But on the other hand, Kiera also knew that I wasn’t interested in having any more men in my life. And she also knows I’m not into one-night stands.
Neither of us is.
“So you’re telling me the only reason you moved in with him is for sex?” Kiera looks as though she’s not sure if she should be shocked or burst out laughing.
“Of course not. I moved in with him because he’s a nice guy.”
Ava coughs, which I suspect was to mask the laugh that erupted from her. She presses her fist to her mouth and pretends to cough again.
“Because he’s a nice guy?” Kiera annunciates each word slowly.
“And he has a cute puppy,” I add, a small shrug in my tone.
That’s all it takes. Ava cracks up, almost doubling in half from laughing so hard.
“Well, Whiskey is cute.” I fail to keep the touch of defensiveness from my voice.
I look at Landon for confirmation. He’s only doing slightly better than Ava when it comes to his suppressed laughter.
“She’s right,” he says. “Whiskey is cute. But I’m hoping she likes me for more than just my dog.”
“Yes, apparently she likes you due to the sex,” Kiera says drily.
Is it too late to hide under the table?
“There’s a lot more to Landon than that.” I gesture to the table currently obscuring his man parts. The man parts I saw on display a few hours ago—in case Kiera needs me to describe them. “He’s a good cook. He’s funny. And sweet. And good with kids. And is smart.”
“Those aren’t good enough reasons for moving in with a man two days after you meet him,” Kiera says. “If he was merely your roommate because you need a place to live, then fine. I could see that. But the last I’ve heard, you aren’t being evicted from your apartment, the building didn’t burn down last night, and the pipes haven’t burst, forcing you out of your home.”
Damn. Why didn’t Landon and I think of the burst-pipe excuse? That would’ve made more sense.
Right—it still wouldn’t have flown with her. I could’ve easily stayed with her if any of those things had happened.
“I’m falling in love with him, okay?” The words sound as though they’re being dragged through extra chunky peanut butter. “And yes, maybe we’re moving fast with everything, but you have to trust me when I say I know what I’m doing. Besides, life is short. I could be dead tomorrow”—literally, dead tomorrow—“so what’s wrong with living today like it’s my last day?”
The cracking of my voice when I point out I could be dead tomorrow seems to be convincing enough. Kiera knows firsthand what I’m talking about.
Landon reaches for my hand on the table and gives it a subtle squeeze. Message clear. He won’t let anything happen to me if he can help it.
Kiera gives me an appraising look for a moment and turns to Landon. “Do anything to hurt her, and you’ll have me to contend with. Okay?” She narrows her gaze at him, then gives him the universal sign for I’m watching you.
I choke back a laugh.
Landon removes his hand from mine and extends it to Kiera. “You have yourself a deal.”
They shake on it.
“Good, now that we have that out of the way, we need to talk about the Christmas performance,” I say. We have less than a month to prepare for it.
“Are you free after work?” he asks me. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
14
Landon
“Where exactly are we going?” Chloe asks from the passenger seat of my jeep. School finished—without incident—twenty minutes ago.
All right. That’s not exactly true.
There were several incidents. Like spilled paint. One kid testing out his newfound vocabulary—a word he’d heard his much older brother use.
A word that wasn’t appropriate for his ears or those of his classmates.
And then there was the disagreement over whose turn it was to pick today’s story. For a second, I thought it was going to end in a brawl.
“Sausalito,” I reply.
“So, who’s the mysterious person you want me to meet?”
“She’s Isabelle’s grandmother.”
“Okaaay. Is there any particular reason you want me to meet her?”
“I figure she can help us with the show.”
“So, she’s a teacher?”
I grin at Chloe. “Nope.” And return my attention to the road.
“What kind of background does she have that will help me with the show?”
“She has an Academy Award for Best Actress and a handful of Tonys.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Chloe swivel abruptly in her seat. “Are you kidding me?” Her voice comes out as a squeak.
“I kid you not.”
“And she’s expecting us?”
“She is. She doesn’t know who you are. She knows you’re a client, and I’m working undercover as a teacher at the school where you teach. She’s not aware of the specifics beyond that.”
“Does she know why I need her help?”
“Yes. That part, I could tell her.”
“Does she also believe I’m your girlfriend?”
I nod. “For the sake of the mission, it’s better that she believes the same as everyone else. But you don’t have to worry that she’ll be like Kiera. She won’t grill you about why things are moving quickly between us.”
“Does she know our relationship has progressed at lightning speed?”
“I’m not sure if that part came up in the discussion Isabelle had with her.”
“Will you at least tell me her name?”
“Josephine Ashworth.”
That results in a squeal from Chloe. “Ohmigod. I know who she is. My grandmother was a huge fan of hers. I’ve seen every one of her movies at least three times. She’s an amazing actress.” Compared to a Jaguar, the speed of Chloe’s words would’ve left it in the dust. “I don’t even know what to say to her. I’m going to sound like an idiot.”
I highly doubt that. If anything, Isabelle’s grandmother will fall instantly in love with her.
“Just don’t mention
who your grandfather is or that you’re linked to the Russian mafia,” I warn. Josephine had a run-in with that side of Chloe’s family not long ago. The less she knows about Chloe’s link to them, the better.
Chloe snaps her fingers. “Oh, darn it. I was so hoping to wear my ‘I’m an ex-mafia princess’ ugly Christmas sweater for the show.”
I laugh, keeping my attention still on the road. “Do you really have one?”
“Of course,” she says on a laugh. “It’s all the craze.” Her laughter dies away. “Anything else I shouldn’t bring up?”
“No, that’s about it. Just stick to talking about the performance, and it will be fine.”
I park the jeep in Josephine’s massive driveway and escort Chloe along the path to the door of the mansion. The late afternoon sunlight is rapidly dwindling with the approaching sunset, which is due in another hour or so. Not that you would know it from the thick cloud cover.
“Wow,” Chloe murmurs under her breath. “Are you sure royalty doesn’t live here?”
Hollywood royalty, perhaps.
Chuckling, I ring the doorbell. The deep melodic chimes of “Silent Night” play from within the house.
“Josephine doesn’t believe in waiting until after Thanksgiving to get into the Christmas spirit,” I say.
Chloe examines the huge, elaborate wreath on the door. “I can see that.”
The front door opens. Juanita takes one look at us, and a big grin lights up her face. “Miss Josephine and the troops are waiting for you in the living room.”
“Troops?” Chloe glances at me.
“She doesn’t mean the military.” Based on Chloe’s expression, that’s exactly what she’s thinking. “Juanita is referring to Josephine’s two closest friends.”
“Ooh, you’re in for a surprise. There’s someone else who has joined them.” Juanita takes our jackets, and I guide Chloe into the large living room.
“And there he is,” Josephine says, grinning at us from a plush cream-colored couch. As always, the woman is elegantly dressed, as are all three of her friends. None of them lack for money. “And you must be the sweet Chloe my Isabelle told me all about. Have a seat.” She gestures at the empty love seat across from her.
In addition to the usual two suspects—Henri and Liza—who are sitting on armchairs, a second man is seated next to Josephine on the couch.
“Chloe, these are my friends, Henri, Liza, and Andrew.” She gestures to each of them with a wave; they grin at Chloe in turn. “Isabelle told me you need help organizing the Christmas show with your little tykes. She also mentioned you don’t have anyone to accompany them when they sing. So this is where Andrew will be helping us out.”
The man in question rubs his hands together. “As you’ll soon see, I’m quite an accomplished pianist.”
Henri snorts a laugh, an amused gleam in his eyes. “Quite the accomplished pianist?” He explains to Chloe and me, “This is the Andrew Stanton, world-renown pianist, and the winner of seven Tonys for the music and lyrics he wrote. Each one for an award-winning Broadway musical.”
Chloe’s mouth drops open for a heartbeat before she recovers herself. “That’s incredible. Thank you.”
She might be attempting to look composed on the outside, but I can tell from the way her eyes shine, she’s trying not to squeal and bounce on the seat.
“No, thank you.” His voice is crinkly and fragile like antique sheet music. “I can’t remember the last time I got to play in front of an audience. I’m not exactly in high demand these days.”
“That’s why they call it retirement,” Liza points out.
“Since when did retirement mean being sent to the valley to chomp on grass for your remaining days?” He winks at Chloe, who laughs.
And red-hot desire shoots straight to my cock. She really is beautiful, both inside and out.
I turn my head in time to catch Liza soundlessly applauding. Her attention is on Josephine, but she’s bopping her head in Chloe’s and my direction.
“I’ll admit I have no idea what I’m doing,” Chloe says, not noticing what Liza is up to. “The teacher who usually organizes the school shows is on maternity leave, and I don’t have any musical talent.”
“That’s where I come in,” Josephine says. “While I might not have the vocal pipes of my younger days, I can certainly teach those little tykes a few songs. Which ones are you looking at performing?”
Chloe lists six or seven. All the standard songs that have been around since the beginning of time.
“That’s not bad, darling,” Josephine says. “If you want to go the more traditional route.”
“Or if you want to put those people in an early grave.” Henri shakes his head. “What you need are some selections to liven up the party.”
“Well, if Agatha York has her way, that won’t be a problem,” Chloe says. “Assuming she can sneak in the contraband rum for the egg nog. And the egg nog.”
“Ooh, I’m liking the sound of this party more and more,” Henri says. “You can sign me up for smuggling in the good stuff.”
By the time Chloe and I leave the mansion, the music arrangement has been finalized. Chloe plans to talk to Principal Woodnut in the morning to expedite the necessary volunteer clearance for Josephine and Andrew.
“Thank you so much,” Chloe says after she and I climb into my jeep. “The concert’s going to be amazing.”
She leans over and kisses my cheek. It’s an innocent kiss. Nothing more than a show of gratitude.
Too bad my body doesn’t quite see it the same way.
It buzzes with need and desire. Desire for her to do a shitload more than just kiss me like that.
She pulls away, but the whiff of her light floral perfume lingers, tormenting me further.
Whiskey’s sitting in his crate, looking all shades of hopeful when we walk into the laundry room.
“I’ll just take him outside,” I tell her. “We won’t be long.”
“I can start making dinner. Is there anything in particular you want?”
“I’m fine with whatever.” I need to get away from her sweet scent for a few minutes and regroup.
Rule #2 when it comes to missions: Never sleep with your target.
Unless it suits the purpose of the mission—like seducing vital information from the individual.
But Chloe isn’t technically my target. That honor goes solely to her cousin, Nikolai Orlov.
So when you look at it that way, there’s no reason for my need to take a minute.
Try, she’s not interested in you that way, dumbass.
I remove Whiskey’s leash from the key holder and open the crate door. I fasten it to his collar and carry him outside.
The ground shines from the streetlights in the lightly falling rain. The dropping temperature from the approaching storm helps cool me down a few degrees. Enough so I can return to the town house a little less turned-on than before.
I lower Whiskey to the grass and let him go about his business.
When I step inside the town house a short time later, the delicious smell of dinner greets me. Chloe is busy in the kitchen, her attention on whatever she’s cooking on the stove. And for a moment, I watch her swaying to the music from the speakers in the living room. She’s caught up in the rhythm, her body moving in a way that makes mine, once again, aware of her.
So much for regrouping while I was outside.
But it’s more than that. For a second, my brain entertains the thought of coming home every night to seeing her like that. In the kitchen. Making dinner. Looking incredibly sexy.
Wearing nothing more than my hockey jersey.
A need—one I’m not familiar with—stirs inside me.
Whoa, where the hell did that come from?
I push it away and walk over to join Chloe. “Whatever you’re cooking, it smells incredible.”
She smiles sweetly at me, causing the hunger for her to swell up like a hot-air balloon. “Thanks. Hopefully, it tastes as good as it
smells.”
She reaches out and scratches Whiskey behind his ear. He happily soaks up the attention, content to remain in my arms.
“I’m sure it will.” Needing to pull my thoughts away from how her body would feel against mine, I ask, “When are you volunteering next at the seniors’ home?”
“Not until Thursday.”
I nod. That’s good. “I have a hockey game tomorrow night. This place is secure, but I still want one of my colleagues to stay with you while I’m gone.”
“You mean like a babysitter?” There’s no missing the grimace in her tone, even though it’s absent from her face.
“I wouldn’t put it exactly like that.”
Her face brightens, and the stirring shifts to my chest, warming me up from the inside, in a way I haven’t felt in a while. “Can I watch you play hockey instead?”
“Are you sure?”
She nods. “Positive. I haven’t watched a game since Kiera’s husband died. She stopped watching hockey after he passed away.”
“Okay, I’ll ask Isabelle and Jayden to join you.”
“Jayden?”
“He’s one of my other colleagues. He’s engaged to Isabelle.”
“Ahh, so I’ll be the third wheel?”
“Not exactly. They’ll be working, so they’ll be keeping that disgusting mushy stuff on hold.” I screw up my nose like a little kid who sees his parents kissing.
Chloe laughs and goes back to stirring the food in the saucepan. “How did you end up playing hockey? Why not football or some other sport?”
“That might have something to do with my dad originally being from Canada. He grew up playing hockey and was super talented. He just wasn’t quite talented enough to be drafted into the NHL. He passed on his love of the sport to my sisters and me.”
“Did they learn to play it, too?”
“Kathy, my oldest sister, didn’t. She loved watching the game but was never interested in playing it. I don’t think it even dawned on my father at the time to encourage her to play hockey. There was no question when I was born that I would participate in the sport. And that led to my little sister, Evie, playing it. Her theory was, if the sport was good enough for me, then it was good enough for her, too.”
Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover Book 2) Page 11