OPERATION BABE-MAGNET / OPERATION BEAUTY

by Kristin Gabriel

  They walked through another door, then Lauren stopped to look around in disbelief. Above them was a canopy of stars shining in the night sky, the full moon bathing the rooftop with its magical glow. A large, red-and-white checked tablecloth was laid out in the center of the roof, bordered on each side by a reflecting pool. A dozen candles floated in the pools, their light bouncing off the water.

  "I'm glad the weather decided to cooperate tonight," he said, walking toward the tablecloth and setting down the picnic basket. The tablecloth was set with the restaurant's finest china and silver, a bottle of wine chilling in a silver ice bucket.

  "Everything is perfect," she said, a note of awe in her voice. She sat down as Sam began pulling fragrant dishes from the basket. Had he really arranged all this just for her? A cool breeze rippled above them but they were protected from it by the half brick wall bracketing the rooftop.

  "How did you know about this place?" she asked, then wanted to kick herself. Philomena had told her Sam was something of a playboy. Sweeping women off their feet was his specially.

  "I didn't until this afternoon," Sam admitted, filling her glass with the rich, red wine. "I just told Carter that I had a very special date tonight and that I wanted his most private table." Sam grinned. "This is it."

  She picked up her wineglass, inordinately pleased that she wasn't just one in a long line of women who had followed Sam onto the rooftop.

  If he was telling the truth.

  She pushed the thought away, refusing to let her old insecurities plague her. She was about to have a wonderful time and she wouldn't let anything put a damper on their evening together.

  Sam held up his glass. "Shall we drink a toast?"

  "To what?"

  He smiled. "To Philomena. Without her, we might never have met."

  She nodded, clinking her glass against his. "To Philomena."

  Lauren studied Sam over the rim of the fine crystal. He wore a blue shirt with a matching silk tie and a black jacket that revealed the broadness of his shoulders and made him look almost as good as he had with his shirt off. Almost.

  His dark hair was short, his jaw lean and strong. Her gaze fell to his hands, cradling his wineglass. They were broad, blunt-tipped fingers that were gently caressing the stem of the glass. She couldn't help but wonder how they would feel against her bare skin. How deftly they could peel away each tiny pearl button of this infernal blouse.

  "Lauren?"

  She blinked and looked up at him, realizing she'd been caught up in the fantasy and lost track of the conversation. "What?"

  "Do you like the wine?"

  "Yes. It's wonderful." She took another sip, savoring the rich bouquet. "Carter must be a good friend of yours to have arranged all this."

  "Actually, we've beaten each other up on several occasions."

  "Are you serious?"

  He nodded. "Absolutely. We're both into kick-boxing and get together at the gym about once a week. We've competed against each other in several tournaments, too."

  She took another sip of her wine. "That sounds … dangerous."

  He laughed as he dished out Caesar salad onto her plate. "Not really. Not if you know what you're doing."

  "And you do?"

  "I've won a few tournaments in my time."

  The finely honed muscles in his powerful chest and shoulders didn't dispute that fact. Maybe that's why she'd been so tongue-tied around him when she'd seen him with his shirt off. Seeing him totally naked would probably render her completely mute.

  "A penny for your thoughts," he said, forking up a man-size bite of salad.

  Her cheeks burned and Lauren knew it would take much more than a penny to reveal the erotic thoughts dancing in her head. She scrambled for something to say. "I was just thinking about how much you and Philomena look alike."

  He choked on his salad, picking up his wineglass and taking a long swallow before he replied. "I suppose there's some resemblance."

  "You both have blue eyes. And you're both about the same height."

  "Philomena's mother was very tall." Sam explained, his hand bumping against his wineglass and almost knocking it over. He caught it just in time. "But enough about me. I want to know about you."

  "What about me?"

  "Philomena tells me you're taking college classes."

  "That's right. In elementary education."

  "So you want to be a teacher."

  "Ever since third grade. My poor dog had to sit through endless lessons on reading and arithmetic. It's no wonder he ran away for three days when I was ten."

  "But you found him?"

  She nodded. "Seems he found a female dog who kept his interest longer than my math lessons. So we had him fixed. He was a much better student after that."

  "Maybe that's the secret," he murmured. "What?"

  He shook his head, then reached over to refill her wine glass. "Nothing."

  They ate in a silence for a few moments, then Sam brought out the entree. The delicious aromas of garlic and oregano filled the air. "Would you like some lasagna."

  "It's my favorite," she replied, her mouth already watering. "Did Philomena tell you?"

  "As a matter of fact, she did." He dished a generous portion onto her dinner plate. Then handed her a basket of warm breadsticks.

  "You two must be close," she said, digging her fork into the gooey pasta.

  "About as close as two cousins could be."

  She nodded, her thoughts drifting toward her challenging protégée. "I like Philomena a lot, but…"

  "But what?" he prodded.

  "I'm just curious as to why she wants to be a Ladybug. She doesn't seem to be a big fan of lingerie."

  "On the contrary," Sam countered. "Philomena's always enjoyed fine lingerie."

  Lauren took another bite of the succulent lasagna, wondering how much of her concern she should share with Sam. But her job promotion did depend on Philomena's success in the training program. "We had a Ladybug Lingerie party this afternoon and your cousin was obviously uncomfortable. She wasn't willing to help the guests try on the lingerie or model any of it herself."

  Sam didn't say anything for two long beats. "There's something you should know about Philomena."

  "What?"

  "She has … a deformity."

  "What do you mean?"

  He hesitated. "I really shouldn't even be telling you this, since she's very sensitive about it. But Philomena has something on her body that your party guests might find disconcerting if she started parading around in revealing lingerie."

  "Oh." Lauren was now sorry she'd even brought the subject up. Especially since it seemed to have put a damper on their date. "I'm glad you told me, Sam. I won't put her on the spot again like I did this afternoon."

  "Don't worry about it," Sam said. "In fact, just forget I ever mentioned it."

  They made small talk for the rest of the meal, capped off with a decadent chocolate torte. Then Sam stood up and held out his hand. "Would you care to dance?"

  "But there's no music."

  He reached down by the reflecting pool and turned a small dial she now saw half-hidden behind a ceramic planter. The soft strains of violin music filled the air followed by seductive Italian lyrics.

  She laughed as he helped her to her feet. "Carter thinks of everything."

  "Hey, give me some credit," Sam said, as he pulled her into his arms. "I picked the song."

  Her breath caught in her throat at the sensation of his hard body against her own. She forced herself to focus on the music and their conversation. "It's a beautiful piece. What is it?"

  "An aria from La Traviata," he said huskily, his warm breath caressing her ear. "By Verdi."

  "I wish I knew Italian," she said, closing her eyes and letting the music and the thrill of being this close to Sam carry her to another dimension.

  "I don't know Italian either," Sam whispered, then pulled back far enough to look into her eyes. "But I think I know what it means."

  "What?"
The desire reflected in his eyes made her swallow hard.

  "It means … I want to kiss you."

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  8

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  Sam didn't stop to think about the consequences. He just gave into the desire that had been burning inside of him ever since he'd seen Lauren in those baby doll pajamas. His hands slid to her waist and he drew her closer to him, a small gasp escaping her throat.

  Her eyes widened as he bent his head, capturing her lips with his own. The taste of her was even better than he had imagined. He closed his eyes, reveling in her sweetness. Then he pulled her even closer, deepening the kiss. After a moment, her arms curled around his neck.

  Blood pounded in his veins as he explored her delectable mouth, all silk and softness. He heard a small moan bubble in her throat and satisfaction burned deep within him. Kissing Lauren McBride surpassed all his expectations. All his fantasies.

  And when she molded her body against his own, he forgot everything except the heat that smoldered between them. Yesterday and tomorrow didn't matter anymore. Only now. This moment. The exquisite sensation of two people coming together and finding passion in each other's arms. He slid one hand over her hip, the movement causing her to arch against him.

  He groaned as blood pooled low in his groin. Lauren McBride was all woman. His woman. Her reaction to his kiss left no doubt of that in his mind.

  When Sam finally lifted his head, he wasn't sure if an eternity or only a moment had passed. He looked into her eyes, endless depths of cobalt-blue, and barely resisted the urge to kiss her again.

  "Wow," she whispered, capturing the moment for both of them with a single word.

  He stepped back, disconcerted with the effect she had on him. He'd kissed women before. Scores and scores of women, as a matter of fact. But no kiss had ever blindsided him like this one. Or made him quite so confused.

  Sam had let himself believe he could control the situation. That he could successfully play Philomena Gallagher and Sam Kane at the same time. Now he wasn't so sure. Because when he'd held Lauren in his arms just now, nothing else in the world had mattered to him. Not his masquerade. Not the game. Not even the Kane Corporation.

  It was a dangerous feeling. One he wasn't certain he wanted to experience again, no matter how irresistible he found her. For the first time he understood the lure of the sirens in The Odyssey, one of his favorite books on tape. More than one man had met his demise by following the siren's song.

  And Lauren's kiss was a siren song. He had to be strong enough to resist it. There was too much at risk. Besides, there could be no future for them. Sam couldn't commit himself to any woman. He'd realized that a long time ago. No matter how tempting the idea might be. Or how tempting the woman.

  He took another step back, seeing the confusion reflected in her beautiful eyes.

  "Is something wrong?" she asked, still a little breathless from their kiss.

  "No," he said briskly. "Everything is fine." The breeze had a definite chill in it now. So did the blood in his veins. "Are you ready to go?"

  She hesitated for a moment and he could see the question forming on her lips. But instead of asking it, she just smiled and turned to pick up her handbag.

  Sam's resolve faltered when she turned to him again. Her lips were full and red, still slightly swollen from their kiss. They could stay up here together on the rooftop. Find warmth and desire and so much more in each other's arms.

  But then what?

  Lauren wasn't like the other women in his life. She'd want more than a good time. She was a forever kind of girl—whether she knew it or not. She was the kind that he'd carefully avoided throughout his adult life.

  "Thank you very much for dinner, Sam. I had a wonderful time."

  Her words made him remember that they'd driven separately to the restaurant. So this was goodbye.

  "Me, too," he replied, not trusting himself to say anything more. His jaw hurt from clenching it so tightly. A gust of wind blew over the rooftop, extinguishing the flames of several candles floating in the reflecting pools.

  Lauren walked toward the rooftop door, then glanced over her shoulder to give him a goodbye wave. He knew she'd gotten the message and was relieved she didn't seem upset about it. A message he wished like hell he could take back

  It was long after midnight when Sam, dressed now as Philomena, walked through the door of Lauren's apartment. He'd made the switch at his place, then driven around a while, trying to regain his equilibrium. And to remind himself why he'd taken on this charade in the first place.

  To his surprise, Lauren was still awake. She sat cross-legged on the sofa, a photo album open on her lap, and was clad in a pair of flannel pajamas. For some inexplicable reason, he found them just as provocative as the pink baby doll pajamas she'd worn the day they'd met.

  "You're still up," he said, closing the door and locking it behind him.

  "I couldn't sleep," she replied, flipping a page of the photo album.

  Sam wanted to make a beeline to his bedroom, but he knew that might make Lauren suspicious. Philomena would naturally be curious about their date. "How was your evening?"

  "Fine." Lauren pointed to the coffee table. "There's some popcorn left if you'd like some."

  "No thanks. I filled up on popcorn at the movie." Philomena replied, moving behind the sofa so she could see the photographs. It was Lauren and Chuck's wedding album. Then he noticed a small pile of other photo albums stacked up on the coffee table.

  "Reminiscing?"

  Lauren flipped another page of the album. "Actually, I'm doing a little detective work."

  "That sounds intriguing."

  "I'm trying to figure out what it is about me that seems to repel men." She finally looked up at him and he could see her eyes were slightly puffy and red-rimmed.

  That she'd been crying hit him like a kick in the gut. Especially since he suspected she'd been crying over him. So much for thinking his rejection hadn't upset her.

  She tossed the wedding album on the coffee table, then picked up another. "I've got seven years of pictures to go through. Maybe I'll be able to see when Chuck started feeling differently about me."

  "Chuck is an asshole," Philomena said tightly. He should know since he felt like one himself.

  She shook her head. "It's not just him. Something about me seems to drive men away. Chuck lasted seven years. Harold one date. And Brian not even that long. I've got to figure it out or I'll be destined to spend the rest of my life alone."

  "That's ridiculous," Philomena said hotly.

  "No, I'm serious." She sat up on the sofa. "Men go out with me, then just disappear into thin air. I never hear from them again. So either I'm driving them away or they're being abducted by aliens."

  "Maybe they're the ones with the problem," Philomena countered. "Did you ever think of that?"

  "I've thought about every possible reason under the sun. Analyzed every date endlessly, but I still haven't come up with any answers." She shook her head. "Why do men have to make relationships so difficult?"

  Sam had heard more than one man ask the same question about women. "You just haven't found the right one yet."

  "I thought I had," she murmured, then smiled up at Philomena. "Don't worry about me. I'm just feeling a little sorry for myself. The combination of a bad date and too many glasses of wine tends to bring on these little pity parties. I'll be over it by tomorrow."

  He hoped like hell that was true. "I'm sorry it didn't work out with you and Sam."

  "Me too." Then she stood up. "Good night, Philomena."

  "Good night, Lauren." He stood and watched her walk out of the living room, hearing her bedroom door close a moment later.

  Sam had told Travis that hitting a woman was against the rules. But what about the emotional punch he'd dealt Lauren? Had that hurt her just as badly? He rubbed one hand over his jaw, feeling the stubble of whiskers underneath the layer of cosmetics.

  The sight of her tears had provoked questi
ons that Sam had never asked himself before. How many other women had he made cry in his lifetime, even unwittingly? He sat down on the sofa, feeling numb inside. At age fifteen, he'd gone on his first date and had enjoyed a steady stream of women in his life ever since. There had been a few bumpy relationships along the way, but he'd soon learned the right way to romance a woman. How to say just the right thing. Make just the right move. Break it off before it got too serious.

  He'd become even more polished over the years. Choosing his dates carefully, making certain they didn't have any unrealistic expectations about the future. Or at least, he thought he had.

  But what man can truly know a woman's mind? Or her heart? How many tears had fallen because of him? And how the hell could he ever make this night up to Lauren?

  His head began to itch under the wig, but he resisted the urge to tear it off until he was safely locked in his bedroom. All too aware that Lauren lay in bed only a few feet away. He could go to her now, tell her how very much he wanted her. That she was the most desirable woman he'd ever met.

  But at what cost?

  "Great thinking, Kane," he muttered to himself, closing the bedroom door behind him. He tossed the blond wig onto the plastic foam head on his closet shelf. "She'd kick your butt out of here so fast, you wouldn't know what hit you. And you'd lose the damn game in the process."

  It simply wasn't worth it, no matter how tempted he was to kiss her tears away. He never should have agreed to the date in the first place. But it was better to break it off now than later. Lauren wouldn't want him if she knew the truth anyway.

  Not that he was about to tell her. He'd never told anyone. And she already had a low enough opinion of him. He could just imagine the expression on her face if she discovered his best-kept secret.

  Sam Kane didn't know how to read.

  * * *

  9

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