Cinderella's Secret Agent

by Ingrid Weaver

  Maybe there was no need to go to all this trouble. Given the way she felt, making love with Del was inevitable. They had been struggling to restrain themselves for weeks. Perhaps she should simply relax and let nature take its course.

  Still, as Joanne would say, there wouldn’t be any harm in giving the karmic wheel a little grease, would there?

  Del sat on the edge of the bed and lifted the glass. The aroma of aged whiskey slithered through his senses, promising a temporary respite from his thoughts.

  This wasn’t what he wanted.

  But there was a hell of a difference between what he wanted and what he could have. He’d learned that lesson eight years ago. The visit to the doctor this morning—and his run-in with Alan later—had served as a refresher course.

  He lifted the glass just as the telephone on the night table began to ring. He looked at it without moving for a moment. Although he was off duty, he was always officially on call, yet if this was SPEAR business, the call would come through on his cell phone.

  It was Bill. “Del, I’ve got some news.”

  Del frowned. “Not over an unsecured line, Bill.”

  “This is off the record.”

  “Okay, what?”

  There was a pause. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” The glass clinked against the whiskey bottle as he set it down. “What’s up?”

  “Our friends at the airport reported an interesting development ten minutes ago.”

  He was talking about the SPEAR intelligence people who were watching for Simon’s men, Del realized. But why wasn’t Bill using the cell phone with its scrambling system?

  The answer was clear with Bill’s next words.

  “The reservation computer shows a certain insurance company executive just booked four tickets to Orlando for next Wednesday.”

  “Insurance…do you mean Blackthorn?”

  “Uh-huh. After you two had your little chat, I had intelligence put a flag on his name, just to keep tabs. Seems the tickets are part of a package deal, a family vacation at Disney World.”

  Del exhaled in a slow whistle. Evidently, their chat had been more effective than he had thought. From the sound of it, Alan was about to pay some long overdue attention to his wife and children. “It’s not a permanent solution, but it’s a step in the right direction.”

  “Sure is. I’m curious, Del.”

  “Yes?”

  “What the hell did you say to him, anyway?”

  He looked at his glass. “Just reminded him about something he already knew.”

  Del hung up the phone thoughtfully. Wouldn’t that be something if Alan managed to mend his marriage, despite the fact that he was a self-centered jerk? Maggie would like that. She was so kindhearted, she wouldn’t want to see anyone miserable, even Alan. It was too bad Del couldn’t tell her about Alan’s planned vacation, but that would mean having to come up with yet more lies to explain how he knew.

  “‘O what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive!’” he muttered. He laughed without humor. He’d been holed up with Bill Grimes too long. Now he was starting to issue quotations himself—and Sir Walter Scott, no less.

  Before Del could retrieve his glass, the phone rang again. This time it was Maggie.

  As always, the sound of her voice warmed Del faster than any whiskey ever could. “Hello, Maggie.”

  “Del.” She hesitated. In the background, he could hear music. Not the tinkling sound of one of Delilah’s toys, but soft jazz. “I was worried about you.”

  “I called earlier.”

  “I must have been in the bath.” There was a long pause. “Were you planning on coming over here tonight?”

  He hadn’t. He had planned to stay here and remind himself of all the reasons he shouldn’t go over there tonight. He looked at the bottle beside him, then slowly screwed the cap on.

  It was bad enough lying to Maggie, but there was no point lying to himself. He didn’t care about the pain that was bound to come. He didn’t care if he was repeating the mistake he’d made eight years ago. He was neither smart enough nor noble enough to keep away.

  When Maggie met him at the door of her apartment, Del didn’t know what to say. He knew he was staring like a fool, but he couldn’t seem to help it.

  She had done something to her hair. Her short curls were fluffier, softer looking. They framed her face like a blond halo. Her face was different, too. Her eyes seemed larger, her cheekbones higher, her lips fuller.

  She was wearing makeup, he realized. By this time of the evening, she was usually already preparing for bed, her face fresh-scrubbed and rosy.

  “Are you going somewhere?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, reaching for his jacket.

  As he shrugged out of his wet windbreaker, his gaze dropped. Rather than one of the wash-and-wear tunics or shirts she typically wore, she was wearing a silk blouse. It was the color of fresh cream, making her skin glow like satin. And there was a lot of skin to see—she had left the top three buttons unfastened. As she lifted her arms to hang up his jacket, the blouse gaped open.

  Del felt his mouth go dry. Damn, he was reacting like an adolescent getting his first peek at a centerfold. Those ripe, generous curves, that deep cleavage, the glimpse of black lace…

  Since when were nursing bras trimmed with black lace?

  Maggie took his hand and tugged him into the living room. “Would you like some wine?”

  He cleared his throat. He hadn’t done more than inhale whiskey fumes earlier, but he felt as if his brain were already shutting down. His body, though, was wide awake. “Wine?”

  She left him by the couch while she crossed the room to the refrigerator in the corner and leaned over to take a bottle from the lowest shelf. Her skirt draped softly over her hips in a tempting display of feminine roundness. “I hope you like it.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he murmured.

  “It’s white,” she said, straightening up with a bottle in one hand. “Red wine gives me migraines.”

  “Anything’s fine.”

  “Great.” She held the bottle under one arm as she opened a drawer. “Where’s that corkscrew. I know I have one.”

  Del tore his gaze away from Maggie. The lamps were dark. The only illumination came from a dozen squat candles in glass holders that had been distributed around the room. Two mismatched wineglasses rested in the center of the coffee table. From the small portable stereo near the window came the strains of a plaintive ballad.

  Her apartment had always seemed cozy and welcoming to him. He had become accustomed to the clutter of baby paraphernalia. Tonight, though, the place looked as different as Maggie did. If he didn’t know better, he might think she was trying to set the scene for a…seduction.

  But Maggie wouldn’t do that, would she? She knew how hard it was for him to keep the chemistry between them under control. She wouldn’t deliberately set out to tease him with implied promises she couldn’t keep, would she? Unless…

  Unless she wasn’t trying to tease him.

  There was a frenzied rattling from the kitchen. “Ah, here we go,” Maggie said, withdrawing a corkscrew from a tangle of cooking implements. She opened the wine and went over to pour it into the two glasses on the coffee table. She held one out to Del and smiled.

  He approached her slowly, taking the glass she offered. “What’s going on, Maggie?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you celebrating something?”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “Want to let me in on it?”

  She took a sip of her wine. “That’s the general idea, yes.”

  “Well?”

  “I…” She took another sip, then drew her lower lip between her teeth and looked away. “I don’t know how to say this. I mean, we’re always so honest with each other, but this isn’t something….”

  He put his index finger under her chin and gently turned her face toward him. “Maggie?”

&
nbsp; She sighed. “Oh, Del. I guess I’m not doing a very good job of this.”

  “What are you trying to do?”

  Her sigh turned into a wry laugh. “If you have to ask, then I know I’m not doing it right.”

  He glanced at the candles and the wine, then once again focused on Maggie. “I can see that you’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make the place inviting,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  “And you look beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But you look beautiful first thing in the morning, too.”

  “Del…”

  “It’s the truth. You do.” He moved his hand into her hair, splaying his fingers to let the curls slide through. “I like seeing your hair tousled and the pink creases from your pillow on your cheek.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, I do.” He dropped his hand to her shoulder and ran his palm down the silk that covered her arm. “I like the way you look right after you’ve given Delilah her bath, too, when the steam in the bathroom dampens the curls around your face and drops of water make your shirt cling to your body.”

  She took a hurried gulp of wine. “Oh.”

  “This blouse you’re wearing tonight is very flattering, Maggie. I don’t think I’ve seen you wear it before.”

  “It wouldn’t have been very practical.”

  “Not for bathing or burping a baby, no.” Holding her gaze, he brushed his knuckles along the side of her breast. “But if you’re trying to make me crazy, it’s very effective.”

  A pulse beat hard at the side of her neck. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Good.”

  “Maggie…”

  “The doctor said it was okay,” she murmured, moving her shoulders so that her breast rubbed more firmly against his hand. “I have every intention of driving you crazy.”

  Del’s hand stilled. He leaned down to look into her face to be certain he hadn’t misunderstood.

  Even in the candlelight he could see her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes sparkled. “Tonight I don’t have to be just a mother, Del. I can be a woman.”

  No, he hadn’t misunderstood. The invitation in her eyes was as clear as a banner. Anticipation coiled through his muscles so swiftly his breath caught. “Do you mean we can—”

  “Uh-huh.” Maggie clinked her glass against his and smiled. “Want to help me celebrate?”

  Oh, hell, he thought. They had agreed they wouldn’t deepen their relationship. He hadn’t meant to lead her on. There was no future for them. This could never work….

  The familiar refrain sped through his mind on one final burst of conscience, but it was quickly overwhelmed by a pounding, primitive desire. He took her glass and set it with his on the table, then cupped her bottom and lifted her off her feet to fit her against him. “I don’t want to hurt you, Maggie,” he said hoarsely. “I never wanted to hurt you. Whatever happens, I hope you remember that.”

  Maggie hooked her legs around Del’s waist to hold him closer, his words barely registering over the sensations that clamored for her attention. She could feel him swelling, his erection pressing into the front of her skirt in a blatant promise. His fingers tightened, and he lifted her higher, rubbing his length along the junction of her legs. A sudden stab of pleasure at the intimate contact made her cry out in surprise.

  He leaned back to look at her. “Maggie?”

  “Don’t stop, Del,” she said breathlessly. “Please.”

  He didn’t. He backed up and sat on the arm of the couch so he could support her weight on his thigh. Then he cradled her face in his hands and kissed her.

  It had started at last, Maggie thought. And just like a roller coaster, she didn’t want it to stop. Sure, there were risks in loving Del, but there were risks in anything worthwhile. She parted her lips eagerly, loving the way he made her feel so…alive.

  He slipped his fingers beneath the collar of her blouse, lowering his hands until his thumbs traced the valley between her breasts. He opened her remaining buttons, easing the silk over her shoulders until it caught at her elbows. His hair brushed her chin as he pressed his lips to the slope of her breast.

  “Ah, Maggie,” he murmured against her skin. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this?”

  She couldn’t have answered. It was all she could do to remember to breathe. Those long, agile, clever fingers of his had unhooked her bra and were cupping her swollen flesh.

  His breath tickled across her chest. “You are exquisite,” he whispered.

  There was a time when she might have argued with that. She knew that childbirth and breast-feeding had changed her body. To her, all the extra inches hadn’t made her feel beautiful. She had felt…functional. With Del, she felt different. All along, he had reminded her that there was more to her life than being a mother.

  The wonder of it was, she felt no guilt. She loved her daughter—she had lived most of the past year just for the baby she carried and bore—but she had denied this aspect of being a woman for too long. With Del, she wanted to embrace it. She wanted to revel in it. She thrust her hands into his shirt, laughing when she heard a pair of buttons pop and bounce across the floor.

  He closed his lips around her nipple, and her laughter changed to moans. She arched into him, wordlessly offering him more. He took more. With the tip of his tongue he traced the hard nub in lazy circles, pressing, laving, making her shiver and burn.

  “Oh, Del,” she whispered, moving her hands to his head. She tunneled her fingers through his hair to hold him steady. “Oh, Del, that feels…” She gasped with pleasure.

  “Good?” he asked.

  “Yes. Oh, my, yes.”

  Smiling, he lifted her breast to his lips. His cheeks moved as he drew on her. His eyes half closed in pleasure, and a low growl rumbled from his throat. Maggie was amazed at the intensity of the sensation. Her flesh, so swollen and sensitive, sent wave after wave of enjoyment through her body. It didn’t seem to matter where he touched her, where he tasted, the delight continued to grow.

  Maggie shuddered and slid her hands to his chest. She had only touched his bare chest once before this, but her fingers followed the molded, muscular contours as if the memory was burned in her brain. It probably was. Closing her eyes, she took her time exploring the broad expanse of taut skin, then rested her fingers over his heart.

  It pounded firm and steady. Could he hear her heart pounding in return? Did he know how much she yearned for him, how much she loved him?

  Holding her by the waist, Del slid off the couch arm to lie back on the cushions, bringing her down on top of him so that her knees straddled his hips. She took full advantage of the change in their positions, sitting on her heels so she could lower her hands to his waist. She pushed his shirttails aside and skimmed her fingertips along his belt.

  They had been living together for weeks. They were more comfortable together than Maggie had thought two people could be…and yet there was nothing comfortable about the excitement that sparked between them now. The strength of it was taking her breath away. Her hands trembling, she unfastened his belt buckle.

  “Maggie.” His voice was low, stroking over her sensitized nerves like wet velvet.

  She wriggled backward toward his knees and lowered his zipper.

  “Maggie, I hope to hell you’re sure of this, because I don’t think I’ll be able to stop if you touch me—”

  “Who said anything about stopping?” she murmured, running her fingers over the long, hard length that pushed against the black cotton of his boxers.

  The next sound Del made was too guttural, too urgent for language, but Maggie understood it perfectly. She slid her hand beneath the elastic waistband of his underwear, her knuckles brushing across the tip of his arousal for a long, tantalizing moment before she sighed with pleasure and wrapped her fingers around him.

  How could it be possible to love him more? This is what lovemaking was all about, wasn’t it? A physical expression of what was he
ld in the heart. She was communicating her love for him without words, yet it seemed to shout a chorus that echoed in the air around them.

  The power of his excitement increased her own. He swelled and jerked within her grip. She felt a series of quick contractions low in her belly and a pulsing need at the junction of her legs. Her hold on him tightened as she curled forward to press her mouth to his chest.

  Del caught her by the shoulders and urged her upward until he captured her lips once more. The kiss was open-mouthed and hot, a surrender and a victory at the same time. When Maggie felt Del’s hands push beneath her skirt, her pulse skipped with eagerness. No, there would be no stopping this time, she thought. She wanted this. She wanted Del. It was as simple—and as necessary—as drawing her next breath.

  Her skirt pooled over his wrists as he stroked his way up the insides of her thighs. Gently, he pushed her panties aside with his fingers until he found the sensitive bud that was hidden within.

  Desire ripped through her, mindless and intense. She knew Del felt it. He had to. His tongue swept into her mouth at the same time his fingers probed further.

  “Del,” she cried, her voice shaking.

  He didn’t misinterpret her plea. He lifted her just long enough to help her get rid of her underwear, then guided her down on top of him. They didn’t take off the rest of their clothes. They didn’t need to. With a tilt of their hips, their bodies joined.

  For a suspended instant, Maggie looked into Del’s eyes. If she’d had any lingering doubts, what she saw there would have banished them. His amber gaze glowed with pure, honest passion…and a need as undeniable as hers. As if they had been lovers for years, they moved together, finding a rhythm that built with every slick, throbbing slide of their bodies. Tension spiraled and stretched until every nerve was screaming for release.

  The climax that shuddered through both their bodies brought a cry of satisfaction to her lips and tears of emotion to her eyes. Maggie gave a long, low purr of delight and collapsed on Del’s chest. Beneath her ear, she could hear his heart drumming hard and steady. His skin was hot and damp against her cheek. She inhaled the scent of soap, sex and Del, and a delayed tremor shook her body.