Summer Heat

by Carly Phillips

  The chauffeur slid into the driver’s seat, and the Rolls began to glide toward their destination a block away. “But of course, Sarah Beth. You look stunning, as always.”

  She did present a nice picture. Gorgeous woman, really. When Mister Nero finished with her, if she was still alive and relatively unmarked, he might keep her for himself.

  ***

  Nicola swirled the Dom Perignon in the crystal champagne flute. Slimy David had had his hand at the small of her back all night long, and it was pure training that kept her from removing it from his body and handing it to a waiter to take out with the caviar-covered trash.

  “Is something wrong, sweetheart? You look tense.”

  Yeah. You keep touching me, and I want to vomit. “Of course not, Michael.” To be this man’s wife would be torture. His fingers were both cold and sweaty. How was that possible? If he dragged them over her Pucci gown one more time, she was sending him the dry cleaning bill. That was, before he was taken to a federal pen for espionage.

  “Perhaps a massage is in order when we arrive at the hotel.”

  Do not gag. She repeated it several times. A massage wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted, no hell, she needed information.

  It was too early in the night to step out of this party. She wanted to excuse herself and hit redial again and again until someone answered. She’d tried to call Cash a hundred times before this godforsaken gala. Each time, she got voicemail. She’d called Jackson and Jared. No one answered.

  In the background, the orchestra struck up another slow number, and she glared off David’s invitation for a waltz.

  Thinking about the unanswered calls made her pulse race. Something must have happened to Cash. What if Jackson didn’t get there in time? Or if the blast took them both out? And where the hell was Jared?

  Since their arrival in Istanbul, Nicola had slipped several more listening devices onto David and his belongings. If he’d found any of them, the bastard hadn’t given it away. Maybe Cash was at home, listening to all their conversations, listening for dirt when she wasn’t in the room with David.

  That had to be it.

  Cash wasn’t going to die in a car bomb. He wasn’t. He played life too fast and furious to be taken out sitting on his ass outside some bar.

  Life’s not fair. You should know that better than anyone.

  His voice replayed in her head a thousand times, and her head spun. She threw down the rest of her bubbly, impatiently waiting for their assets to show up. Soon as this gig was done, she was pulling David out and flagging down the nearest Learjet back to the States.

  “Sarah Beth, darling.” David’s voice had a serious ick factor. “I believe we’re on.”

  The target couple stood dead ahead, living replicas of the pictures in Nicola’s briefing book. Wonderful timing. The assets greeted their marks, two men who looked up-to-their-mustaches in selling stolen third-world secrets. Everyone was in place. Showtime.

  Nicola raised a bejeweled hand and called over in her haughtiest voice. “Frederick? Elizabeth? Is that you?” She walked gracefully toward the foursome with David in tow. He too murmured their cover names. “It is them. How delightful.”

  Frederick and Elizabeth smiled. The woman waved hello. Emeralds glittered from her bouffant to her pedicure. “Oh, it’s the Penningtons. From New York.”

  The man turned to their companions and started introductions. Something about how the Penningtons made their supposed loot in the chemical market. Something vague enough to be untraceable.

  Elizabeth kissed her cheek. “Sarah Beth, I didn’t expect you!”

  “We made an unanticipated stop. Mallory had a European qualifier in her show jumping competition, and since the jet was fueled and we were so close…” Nicola shrugged a silk-covered shoulder as elegantly as she could. That was the extent of her lines. Time for David to shine.

  Nic glanced at him. He was on a roll. This was his type of work, hobnobbing and schmoozing. How boring, especially when real life waited for her thousands of miles away. At least she hoped it was life waiting and not a soul-wrenching obituary.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Their minor assignment was a success. Nicola and David were back at the hotel, and her room was packed. Nothing left in her closet, designer or otherwise. The Louis Vuitton bags rested by the door, awaiting a bellhop. Having a jet on standby was convenient, but they both had to agree to leave. The bag brigade was nothing more than an effort to convince David they were leaving tonight, but he wasn’t budging.

  At least she’d kicked him out of the bedroom to one of the smaller adjoining rooms. Nic swept the room for bugs, set up her signal jammer as a just-in-case backup, and thought about getting the hell out of Istanbul so that someone could give her some intel. All she needed to know was that everyone was alive and kicking. That Cash didn’t blow up in his truck.

  Ring. She lunged across the room, catapulting across the king size bed to grab the phone. She didn’t look at the screen, only accepted the call and prayed for good news.

  “Nic.” The sound of Cash’s voice hugged her tightly, making her believe in the power of desperate prayers.

  “Thank you!” she cried, realizing that tears streamed down her face. “Cash, you’re okay. Oh God. You’re okay.”

  Her breaths surfaced, rapid fire. All of the pent up emotions boiled into a fierce mess of wet tears, running down her cheeks. She sniffled and rambled without the slightest clue what she said.

  “Slow down.” He paused. “I’m okay.”

  The words didn’t work. Tears raced down her cheeks, blurring her vision. Her mind sped, swirling into an anxious frenzy. “I thought this is how we were going to end,” she whispered. “That you wouldn’t be there when I came home. That I left and lost you once. That you died tonight, and I lost you—”

  “Who’s Jackson?” The sharp-tipped question sobered her from the nightmare of possible bomb blast causes and effects.

  “What?” She shook her head, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. Jackson? This morning seemed years ago. Had that really happened?

  “Tell me a lie, and I swear to God, sweet girl. You will lose me. No explosive charge needed.”

  It had really happened. Cash was alive and… angry. His voice scratched through the phone. The not knowing. The bomb scare. Everything else was trivial. Everything was trivial except him. Her throat tightened. She couldn’t imagine the words to make it better.

  “Nic!”

  “He’s a bomb specialist for the FBI—”

  “I’ve learned that much on my own. Who is he to you?”

  “We dated.”

  “You live together.”

  “Technically—”

  He coughed a harsh laugh in her ear. “You’ve got to be kidding me. This is karma. This is for all the nice girls who I should’ve called and all the bad ones I should’ve left alone.”

  Are you serious? Nicola smirked into her handset. “Like Sugar?”

  “Yeah. Like Sugar. Hell, woman. You’ve got everyone fooled, including Sugar. You know, she tried to take up for you tonight. Like—”

  “I knew it. I knew you’d go see her, you ass. Fuck whatever walks, Cash. Fuck me. Fuck her. Fuck every goddamn woman you see. That’s you. I get it, but you certainly don’t know me if you think I’d sleep with you and then go home to someone else.”

  Silence.

  She checked the phone. The line was still connected. Nic was content to wait until he had something to say.

  Silence.

  He had the same plan.

  She took a deep breath, then continued. “I dated Jackson. Past tense. I broke it off more than a year ago, amicably. We’re good friends. There was no pop and sizzle. When I took the Smooth assignment, I got rid of my apartment because I’d only be home once every few months.”

  “Go on,” he said, not nearly as sharply. Hesitation still hung in his voice.

  “I crash at Jackson’s. He has the master bedroom. I have my own be
droom. I’ve stayed there three times, and you have shitty timing because I jumped in the shower after he jumped out. So there’s the truth, and I wouldn’t dare lie to you.”

  Silence.

  “Goddamn it, Cash—”

  “Tell me another truth.” Again, his voice wasn’t as angry. It still grated, and the intensity was still there, but it didn’t rasp in rage.

  “Another truth… I’m hurt you ran off to Sugar.”

  “I ran off to the closest place I could unload an automatic weapon.”

  Somewhat believable. “So you didn’t…?” She closed her eyes, hoping and listening for his response.

  “Nope. It wasn’t even a passing thought.”

  “What was then?”

  He laughed quietly. “What was on my mind? Simple. The urge to kill.”

  All right. She could handle that. “I’m glad you didn’t. Jacks is a good guy. Plus, he was useful tonight. Right?”

  “My truck’s a goner. I’m pretty sure he did it on purpose.”

  Oh, he loved that truck. Insurance would cover that, wouldn’t it? “He didn’t blow your truck up on purpose. Anyway… your turn. Tell me a truth.”

  She waited patiently, wondering if it was going to be another complaint about her being in the field working a job.

  “The phone was an excuse.” Cash spoke deliberately. A long pause expired. “It wasn’t the reason I drove back to your apartment.”

  “Wow…” She closed her eyes, feeling that love-drunk pull that always came when Cash bared his soul to her. “Tell me another deep, dark secret. Two for two. We’ll be even.”

  He paused an eternity. “After that no-condom, no-problem moment, my mind went into overdrive. What if you got pregnant?”

  “I couldn’t—”

  “Things malfunction. Stuff doesn’t always work right.”

  “Cash, if this is—”

  “It has nothing to do with where you work or what you do.”

  “What does it have to do with then?”

  “Well, if that happened…if you, ya know, were pregnant.”

  “Then we’d have a baby. We’d have to get serious. You’d have to be—”

  “We’re not serious?” he asked.

  “Are we?

  Banging on the door drew her attention. “Hold on a sec.” She lumbered off the bed and cracked the door to see David’s weaselly face. “What do you need, David?”

  “We have to head home. Something’s gone wrong with one of my back burner projects. I’m needed in the States. You’ve been trying to go home. Let’s go.”

  A mischievous glint in his eye made her stomach tense. Instinct was a precious tool, and hers was precision honed. Something wasn’t right. Her gut screamed for her to backtrack and bed down. “I’m exhausted. We can leave in the morning.”

  “You’re already packed.”

  “I’ve been packed for two hours. Now I’m ready for bed. Leave without me, if it’s so important. I’ll hop on a commercial flight.”

  David studied her, and her muscles tensed, the hair on her forearms standing at attention. There was an edge to his voice and an off-kilter air about him that made her skin shiver.

  “Fine. I’ll have the jet prepared for a seven AM departure,” he said.

  Nic shut the door without responding. Her skin continued to crawl. She fished the phone from her robe pocket and pushed it back against her ear. “Cash? You there.”

  “Yup.”

  “Sorry. What were you saying?”

  “Nothing much. Just that this bed is lonely without you.”

  “Truth?” She missed him deep in her heart, and he’d just mentioned babies. Future, accidental kinds, but still. Babies. Nicola curled closer to the phone. It was just the two of them, eating through the burner phone’s minutes.

  “Truth.”

  The word made her smile. “It’s no fun to make up with you when there’s an ocean between us.”

  He laughed, and the sound felt like an embrace. She remembered the warmth of his body and how he could flash a look that made her nerves spark to life. They’d have to time their disagreements better.

  “Get in bed, and let me tell you a good-night story. Before you know it, you’ll be home with me.”

  Falling asleep to his voice, now that was a plan. She double checked the door lock and chain, shed her robe, threw back the comforter, and tucked herself into the mess of a cotton nirvana. “All right. Tucked in. Tell me a story.”

  “It’s an interactive story.”

  “Hm-okay.” Whatever. As long as he kept talking, he could call it whatever he wanted. His voice always sounded sinfully delicious. He could read her the classifieds. A thesis on temperature variables affecting long range fire power. Hell, he could recite the telephone book from A to Z. There was something so tangible in his voice that just did it for her.

  This was never going to put her to sleep, but she’d give it a try. She closed her eyes and blocked out everything but his voice.

  He started, slow and deep. “So, there was this guy and this gorgeous girl. Amazon-like, mythical-proportions-kind-of-gorgeous. They were lovers.”

  Nic’s eyes flew open. “Lovers?”

  “Lovers,” he repeated. She heard the smile in his voice and felt her cheeks flush. “What do you think their names were?”

  Oh my God. “Describe the guy to me, and I might be able to tell you.”

  “Oh, that’s easy. Tall, tan, and terrible with self-descriptions.”

  She shifted the phone from one ear to the other. “I think we should call him Cash.”

  “That sounds about right. We can call her Nic. Cash and Nic.”

  Nic giggled and nodded.

  “You’re nodding, aren’t you?”

  She smiled against the soft pillow. “Maybe.”

  Cash laughed quietly. “Back to Cash and Nic. They’d had a disagreement. The latest after a couple of ‘em. Nothing insurmountable, but—”

  “Does Cash say he’s sorry? You know, in the story?”

  Long pause. “Yeah. He’s sorry. But that’s back story, and that chapter is boring. Just know he’s sorry for conclusion-jumping and friend-punching.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Anyway.” He cleared his throat. “You know, this’d be a lot easier if you played Nic. You could do a little improv.”

  “So you’re Cash?”

  He laughed quietly again. “That works.”

  “Now what?” she asked, a little nervous and excited.

  “Now you should make damn sure your phone is charged and you have a transmission blocker turned on,” he growled. The order raked over her body like he was there, in the flesh, and purring into her ear.

  “Why?” she pushed, hoping for that feeling again. The whispered tension double-knotted her stomach.

  “Because you’re about to find out how bad I want you in this bed, next to me.”

  Her chest constricted. Her lungs went on strike. “Tell me.”

  “Close your eyes, Nic.”

  Tummy flip. Eyes closed.

  He kept to the low murmur. “Remember in the shower. The water and the steam and the need. Did your heart beat faster? Did you want me to kiss you?”

  She nodded in the dark. “Yes.”

  “And did you want more? When my hands ran up and down your wet skin, do you remember how ready you were for me?”

  “Uh-huh.” It was all she could manage. His voice rocketed sensations down her spine.

  “Touch your lips for me, Nicola.”

  She complied. The rich texture of his words coated her in heat. Her fingers brushed softly over her bottom lip while her ears begged him for more.

  Cash continued. “The harder I kissed you, the harder I got, sweet girl. When your little tongue moved over mine…” He took a long, slow breath, blowing into the phone. “I wanted to feel it everywhere, but not before I tasted you.”

  “Oh.” Blood thumped in her neck, racing through her veins.

  “And
I kissed your neck,” he whispered. Nic moved her fingers to the slope of her neck and felt her pulse. “It took all my strength not to move too fast. Not to touch and kiss where I was dying to end up.”

  “Where was that?” Her insides melted, overcome by the memories of him nudging her knees apart. Him creating such intense pleasure, she thought she’d drown in him, awash in undeniable bliss.

  “Your sweet pussy. But I’m getting there tonight. I don’t care how far away from me you are.”

  Oh. They were only words, not a sinful touch or a kiss that made her knees weak. But the way he said it made agonized need ricochet from her hips to her core. She was alone in a dark room with eyes shut and could’ve sworn he whispered into her ear, tickling her skin with his promise.

  “Are you in bed, Cash?”

  “Yeah, and I’m naked, missing you.” His voice was an electric jolt. There was nothing hesitant, nothing held back. Everything about Cash was strong and direct. A live wire.

  “Are you…?” She trailed off, wanting for the right words, wanting to be as bold as he was.

  “Hard and in my hand,” he answered for her. The revelation jump-started her imagination.

  Her heart was in her throat, pounding and punching for attention. “You’re stroking?”

  “Good girl.” She heard his approving smile. “Yeah, I’m stroking. Thinking of how good you feel. Where’s that beautiful touch of yours?”

  “My neck.”

  “Is that where you want it?”

  She shook her head silently against the pillow.

  Cash urged her on. “Just relax with me, sweet girl. Tell me what you want, how you love it. Let yourself go for me.”

  This was too revealing. Embarrassingly scary. She didn’t know what to say or do. Being this vulnerable with him so confident made it all the more erotic. More intimate. “Cash—”

  “You can do this if you want. You don’t have to. But you could.”

  “I want,” she promised.

  “Then trust me. Listen to me, and know there’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t do to make you come for me tonight.”

  “I’m listening.” Heat bloomed between her legs. If he kept saying things like that, she’d beg for release soon.

  “Tell me a truth, Nicola. Touch your gorgeous body, and trust me with another truth.”