by Ciar Cullen
“Fair enough. Let’s drop it and discuss Ardros, then.” He brought up the man’s photo.
Layla examined the Greek’s face, hoping it would give her some insight into the man. It didn’t. She turned up her nose. “Handsome enough in a Greek-god kind of way, if you like that type. I don’t. My date for the week?”
“Hmmm, not precisely your date, but the idea is certainly for Ardros to fall madly, instantaneously in lust with you. You’re to be my girlfriend. We’ll have to get our stories very, very clear. Sarah is working on it now.”
“Your girlfriend?” Real fear stirred in Layla’s gut as she surveyed her would-be beau. Don’t let it throw you, you can handle him. “Why are you coming? Seems a major tip-off—the head of the firm. Why can’t I go alone and get the information?”
“The good thing about owning a detective agency is that no one ever questions it when you tell them it’s a cover. It works every time.”
“But you, personally? I don’t get it.”
“Ardros knows me personally, considers me a pal. I’ve courted him for the last several months. He likes my knowledge of the black market in antiquities.”
“And where did you obtain that expertise? I hadn’t heard that one.”
“My brother is an archaeologist. You’ll meet him soon enough, but we’ll get to that later. We’re on to me again. You have quite a knack for shifting the topic, and that’s very good. Stop doing it with me. Back to Ardros. He thinks I’m a potential laundering operation for stolen antiquities. I’ve worked hard to get him to believe that. He’s to think you’re a bit loose.” He lowered his head and looked at her slyly. “And that I don’t mind.”
“Oh, just great. My grandmother is rolling over in her grave right about now. What exactly is it I’m after?”
“A good time.”
Layla laughed nervously. There was something about the way he said “good time” that awakened her senses. What’s a good time to you, Mr. Colin? What’s her name?
“Ms. Swann, when I say a ‘good time,’ I mean it. He’s invited me to bring my gorgeous girlfriend to his swinging bachelor hangout. I believe his exact words were ‘so we all can get our groove on.’ Can you do that?”
“And while I’m having this ‘good time’ with Austin Powers there, I’m to learn what?”
“Names, contacts, appointments—anything. We suspect he’s going to fence about twenty million dollars’ worth of stolen artifacts. Actually, they are priceless, from a cultural standpoint, but that’s the approximate black-market value.
“The Greek government doesn’t want that to happen, but they also would prefer to handle this as quietly as possible—which is one reason they don’t want a Greek firm handling the case. They don’t even want the local gendarmes in on it.
“Ardros is the local director of antiquities in the Argolid, and the tip-offs came from the inside. Our job is to discover whether we’re dealing with internal politics or real theft, and to deal with it quickly and quietly.
“I would prefer to do this alone, but the man is insistent upon my girlfriend accompanying me this trip. Or he’d pick one for me. I can’t have some woman lumbered on me, getting in the way. I need to bring along an agent. You’ll be able to get private time with him.”
“I see.” It was pretty much as she had expected. Wear a short skirt and heels and distract him.
“It’s important, Layla. No one is questioning your intelligence and skills. We just need to combine them with your body this time. It’s not an insult.”
“Did you just compliment my body, boss?”
“Knock it off. Here…” He handed her a folder full of reports.
“Greece. For one hundred grand, I can do Greece.”
“I thought you might say that. We leave in two days. Cram, Ms. Swann. I’ll meet you tomorrow, and we’ll test your famous retentive skills. We’ll rehearse Sarah’s script, look over passports and so forth.”
Colin reached into his drawer and pulled out a check. He slid it across the desk, but before Layla could grab it, he put his hand over hers. The touch sent shivers up her arm. Mmm. Nice hands.
She looked up and met his remarkable eyes. “What? Do I have to beg?”
“As intriguing as that might be for me, you don’t have to beg. Unless, of course, it would make you feel good.” He smirked as Layla felt heat rise to her cheeks. “Pull this off, and I’ll make sure the next job makes full use of all your skills.”
“Deal, boss.”
“Layla, the ‘boss’ thing doesn’t quite work. My name is Kevin, and you need to start using it.”
“All right, Kevin.”
“Less intimidated now?”
“Not a bit.” She smiled and he smiled back. My God, why hadn’t Sarah told her about him? Oh shit, she had, hadn’t she?
***
Good. She didn’t like Ardros. Kevin had no intention of ever letting the man lay hands on Layla Swann. He took in a deep breath and looked at her photos again. What did she really look like naked? Knock it off, Kevin. It’s just been a while.
She didn’t seem wounded from the Qatar job, Kevin thought. A little jumpy, maybe. Very clever, funny. And just exquisite. Kevin Colin, are you doing the right thing? Why did you pick her?
CHAPTER 2
“Again.” Kevin sipped coffee as he examined the portfolio on his tray table. He cursed as the plane bobbled and the coffee spilled onto his shirt.
“Oh, honey, you’re so clumsy,” Layla practically cooed. “I’m glad I packed you another shirt to go with those pants.”
“Very funny. Again, Layla.”
She groaned. “You love fettuccine alfredo, Pinot Grigio, Caesar salad, but hate caviar. You hate football, yet love soccer—but you call it football. You don’t golf but play squash, you read only nonfiction, you didn’t go to college, you wear Armani… Why the punk rock hair, all mussy? When you combine it with the Armani, it’s—”
“It’s what? I spend an awful lot of money on this short messy hair.”
It’s unbelievably sexy. Like a model. Perfection. I bet there’s a tattoo somewhere, too, Kevin Colin. I bet before you wore those starched shirts…
“Well? What’s wrong with my hair?”
“I’m just not sure you look like a CEO.”
“Stop stalling.”
“Did I tell you I make the best fettuccine alfredo, darling?”
Kevin turned in his seat to stare at Layla and she took in a quick breath. This was close, very close. She smelled his soap and shampoo, saw a spot he missed with the razor, took in those impossibly long black eyelashes. He smirked as her eyes fell to his lips.
“Stop using ‘darling,’ sweetheart, it doesn’t suit you,” he whispered. “I know you well enough after three days to know it’s not natural for you. Now tell me about our life. Come on, Layla, we have only about an hour before we land.”
Layla forced her voice to be rock steady. “You have a luxurious home in Connecticut, you do the commute, I live in the Village, have a walk-up—this part’s all true.”
“The rest is all true as well. Do you actually make a good fettuccine alfredo?” He smiled. “Okay, now the good stuff. Go.”
“Ugh. God damn it, Kevin. Oh all right. I’m desperately, madly in love with you, your looks, and your money. I even like your daughter, love your daughter. I’m dying for you to propose. I want to spend my life with you raising Molly. I’ll do anything for you, and have.”
“Like what?”
“You know, you’re a fucking terrible boss and a law suit may be in order. Phew. I’m your sex slave—leave it at that. I have it down, trust me.”
He smirked again.
Layla shook her head and turned to look out over jagged low mountains.
Kevin laughed. “I’m sorry; I just wanted to hear you say it again. You’re so mechanical when you talk about our love life, I find it amusing.”
“Mechanical? We’re on a job! Do you think my sex talk to my real boyfriend sounds like that?”
“Real boyfriend?” He sounded a little confused, almost hurt.
Layla grinned. Got him! She suddenly felt his hot breath on her neck as he leaned in to whisper and laugh in her ear.
“I don’t believe you for a second, my dear. Remember, I have your number, down to your DNA. Boyfriend. Not in a year, and that’s being generous. Thought you had me, didn’t you?”
Layla shivered at his closeness and the harshness in his voice. Don’t you dare let him shake you; he’s testing you, and he’ll fire you on the spot.
She turned and looked directly into his eyes. “You don’t know a thing about me. You might know about my background, but you don’t know me. So stay out of my personal life.”
Kevin’s eyes softened a bit and he nodded. “And you don’t know me, Layla.” He put his fingertip to his temple. “So we’re even.”
Layla looked out the window again. Boyfriend. The word still stung. Bitterness welled up at the thought of John, unceremoniously dumping her, when she needed him the most…after Qatar. She felt her shoulders shake slightly and willed the stillness back.
“Layla, what is it? I didn’t mean to insult you, honestly.” Kevin turned her chin around with the tip of one finger, and his eyes widened at her expression. “Oh, sorry. All right, we both have sad tales, then. When this is over, perhaps we can share them? You’re right, it’s none of my business. Toughen up, now. Game face.”
She nodded. “I’m generally better than this. Ask Sarah.”
“One more thing?” Kevin asked, ignoring her comment. “This is for me, the real me, so you don’t have to answer.”
Layla looked at him curiously.
“Are you named after the song?”
“My parents worshipped Eric Clapton. Still do.”
“Then they must be all right.” He sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes.
Layla wondered what he was thinking. This is either going to be a very, very good week or a very, very bad one. And I don’t think you have any control over it. I hate that feeling. It’s all in a man’s hands again. But what hands…
She looked down at Kevin’s. Long fingers, gold watch against a tanned wrist, tiny black hairs on his arm peaking from beneath his starched white shirt.
God help me. I’ve got the hots for my boss. The almighty Kevin Colin, president of the firm, multi-millionaire. Tony Stark without the iron suit.
“Who’s with Molly?” Layla asked.
“She’s with my parents. I should have put that in the portfolio. Sorry.”
“Oh, good. I mean, your girlfriend would care about that.”
He kept his eyes closed and smiled. “Would she now?”
***
Kevin had to suppress several groans during their rehearsal. Layla’s scripted words, even recited mechanically, pounded through his mind, through his body, no matter how hard he reminded himself it was a sham…
“I’m so in love with you, I’ll do anything you want, anytime, anywhere. You especially like me to service you orally, and you insist upon that service at the snap of your fingers. You’re rather aggressive in the bedroom, and we enjoy a bit of light bondage, a little light discipline. Hmmm, guess who gets the discipline—what a surprise. You like to take photos and videos. My God, Colin, who writes this stuff? Did you? How much of this is real?”
Her words spun around and around in his head…“I’m so in love with you…”
What would it be like if she meant it? He had heard those words before, years before, from his wife. But not since. Because he hadn’t let a woman get that close, and never would again. Women loved his money and position, but no one knew him, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let a gold-digger get close to his Molly.
Kevin had thrown a newspaper onto his lap to hide the bulge threatening to betray him. He’d been with beautiful women, sophisticated women, but none of them came close to this fantasy in the flesh. A bombshell. Clever, sexy, funny and vulnerable. How had Layla survived five years in the Agency, and in the Middle East? The body of a porn star, the skills of a world-class spy, a genius IQ, and the heart and soul of a child. Wounded, but not just by the job gone bad.
What’s the guy’s name, and why would he walk out on her? Or did she end it? And those lips, holy shit, what that mouth would feel like…those huge brown eyes looking up at me…
Kevin shuddered at the thought and a groan slipped out.
“You all right?” Layla looked over her glasses at him in concern. “I’m fine. Just thinking about Ardros.”
What am I going to do about him? You’re an ass, Kevin. A total idiot. You brought Layla here to turn on Andros, and now you don’t want her near him. Well, get over it. You need her in his bedroom more than in yours.
“Layla.”
“Mmmm?” She continued turning pages of her Guide Bleu to Greece. “You know, it might be pretty spectacular to see some of Greece in the company of the director of antiquities, even if he is a crook…”
“Layla, shut up for a second.”
She looked at him, her gaze locking onto his. So close. What’s that perfume? Kevin took in a deep breath and stared at her glossy red lips.
Layla shifted uncomfortably as the flight attendants announced their imminent arrival in Athens. Kevin kept staring and moved even closer.
“What…what are you doing?” She sounded breathless.
“I’m going to leave the ‘when’ up to you,” he whispered, “but it’s going to happen sooner or later. As we discussed, you aren’t required to have sex with anyone on this job, but you will have to be a convincing girlfriend. Girlfriends and boyfriends kiss, hold hands, make out, touch, fight. Kiss,” he repeated, keeping his gaze on her lips.
Layla parted her lips and licked them in nervousness. The sight of her tongue on her lips shot through him like electricity. “I understand that, Kevin. I think I can manage to kiss you for a hundred grand.”
“When we kiss in front of Ardros, it can’t look like a first kiss—we’re supposed to be lovers. Very ardent lovers. The man is observant. He’ll spot a fake a mile away—he’s in the business of spotting fakes.”
“Your point?”
“We can practice now, or we can practice later. But before he meets us, we will practice.”
“I don’t think it’s necessary.”
“I do.” Kevin moved in a little closer. My God, I feel like a kid on a date. Damn it. “We have tonight in Athens before we move down to Nafplion. In the meantime, just get used to touching.” He laced his fingers through hers.
Layla nodded. “All right, then. I suppose we’ll have a goodnight kiss.”
“I’ll try not to make it terribly odious.” Kevin spoke formally, hoping that his hand wasn’t actually shaking.
CHAPTER 3
Layla woke from a light sleep and stumbled in a haze to the shower, slowly remembering where she was, what time it was. Athens, evening. It felt like early morning, and she was in no mood for dinner.
She tried to shake off the last vestiges of sleep and stepped into a cold shower. Why does the water take forever to get warm in this country? How the hell was she going to separate herself from this mission, this man? Just enjoy it, idiot. A few lousy kisses, a little acting, some snooping around. A picnic compared to Munich…
To Qatar.
No, don’t think about that. Those men were a world away, a past life. No doubt the last of them were in custody by now.
Layla dressed and checked the pistol Kevin had secured on the ground, putting it into her oversized handbag. She pulled back the curtains and walked onto the balcony, taking in the incredible view of Athens at night. The Acropolis looked so small from this far away, but it still gleamed like the center of the world. Her heart lurched when the knock came.
It’s not a date, it’s not a date. She stepped into her heels and opened the door.
Dear God. Kevin Colin in jeans. Loose, low-slung jeans and a black T-shirt. And there it was—the tattoo. A Celtic cross peaking from beneath his
sleeve.
“There’s another one, isn’t there?” Layla pointed to his arm.
“Excuse me?” Kevin tilted his head sideways.
“Tattoo. There’s another somewhere.”
He laughed. “You’ve such an accusatory tone, I’m not sure I want to answer that.”
Layla turned away to grab her purse. “I’m a sucker for tattoos.”
“Well, I suppose you should know where mine are, but I doubt Ardros will quiz you. There’s another one here…” He lifted his sleeve to reveal an intricate design around his bicep. “And here.” He turned his back toward her and lifted his shirt, revealing a dragon on his left shoulder blade. The muscles of his tanned back rippled with his arm movements.
Down, girl. “Fine. Let’s get going.”
“Wait a minute. We’re not even. Do you have any tattoos? You know, show and tell.” He grinned mischievously.
“No. Now can we go? I feel like an idiot, so overdressed.”
“You’ll do.” He nodded seriously as his eyes took in her cleavage. Layla caught the quick look and Kevin obviously knew it. He coughed and closed the door behind her. “Mind walking to dinner? It’s a hike.” He looked pointedly at her shoes.
“I’m fine in heels, trust me.”
“You certainly are fine in heels. All right then, to the Acropolis.”
“That’s across town!”
“It certainly is.”
Kevin took her hand as they stepped onto the street and made their way down the long winding sidewalk to the square below. They initially walked in silence, but Layla’s excitement at their surroundings grew and she pulled Kevin into open-air souvenir shops as they neared the old part of town. The smells of wonderful exotic food poured from dozens of restaurants. Bouzouki music drifted louder and softer and louder again as they passed bars and shops. The night air was warm and Layla began to relax. She reached out for Kevin’s hand after one stop and dropped a tiny statue of Athena into his palm.
His expression was curious as he examined the cheap trinket, then he smiled briefly and placed the statue into his pocket. Without a word, he leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. Layla wanted the cobbled street to open up and swallow her whole.