Most Eligible Spy

by Dana Marton

  She was beautiful and strong—no matter what she thought—and a great mother, honest, hardworking, sexy. He was mostly focused on the sexy part at the moment. Every cell of his body wanted her.

  He couldn’t take any more of the writhing bodies and throaty moaning on the TV. He got to his feet and retreated to the kitchen. He needed something cold. “Want a drink?”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  He stood in front of the open fridge door for a while, letting the frigid air hit him, then grabbed the sweet-tea pitcher, poured two glasses and added ice. He also turned up the air-conditioning while he was walking by the thermostat.

  She stood as she took the glass from him. “I think I’ll go to bed early if you don’t mind. I’m a little tired today.”

  Upset, she meant. He wished she would confide in him. She tried so damned hard to be strong. Too hard.

  He set his glass on the sofa table and slowly pulled her into his arms. “What is it?”

  “Just having a rough day.” She put the glass down.

  “I don’t like seeing you sad.”

  “Mo...” She hesitated. “I should...”

  “What?” He held her loosely, not wanting to scare her, not wanting to seem too pushy.

  “Logan and I should probably move back home tomorrow.”

  Not what he wanted to hear. “Not yet. I like it when you’re here,” he admitted.

  And that softened her face a little.

  He reached up to brush the hair back from her eyes. Then rested his lips against her forehead, just savoring the feel of her in his arms. He wanted to keep her there forever, keep her safe from her troubles. “You know if there’s anything I can help you with, I would, right? Whatever it is.”

  * * *

  SHE WAS SO TEMPTED to tell him. But Kenny had said if she told anyone, her son would die. And that was a risk she wasn’t willing to take.

  If she told Mo, he would tell his team. His team would set up some kind of op. Her only experience with those was what she’d seen on TV shows. There’d be a shoot-out, probably.

  There had been a shoot-out the night Dylan had died.

  Her heart constricted.

  She could deal with Kenny. Kenny wanted the drugs. She wanted Logan back. It would be a simple exchange. No fancy team of outsiders needed. The more people involved, the better chance that something could go wrong, someone could make a mistake.

  She trusted Mo. She really did. To a point. She wanted to trust him all the way, but when her son was involved...she just couldn’t make that final leap.

  So she let him comfort her and kept quiet.

  She leaned against him and soaked up his calm, self-assured energy. His steady heartbeat against her palm felt incredibly reassuring. He was a solid wall of strength.

  “If you were in any kind of trouble, you would tell me, right?”

  She nodded, unable to say the lie out loud.

  He gathered her closer. Kissed her eyebrow.

  She let him. Because when Mo found out that she had lied to him, that she helped Kenny, he would hate her.

  The thought broke her heart. Because she’d been falling for him.

  Starting tomorrow, she would be the enemy again, an accomplice in smuggling, for real this time. Back in the interrogation room without a doubt. But Logan would be safe from Kenny. Even if she got arrested, Grace would take care of her son. Logan would be safe. And that was worth whatever sacrifice Molly had to make.

  So she said goodbye to Mo, silently, as he lowered his head and gently kissed her lips.

  So unfair. They could have had something, she realized too late. He was different from all the other men she’d met. Images of what could have been flashed across her mind and took her breath away. Except, tomorrow he would hate her.

  But she could have something, a little, tonight, a small voice said in her head. So she leaned into the kiss.

  A low rumble sounded in his throat, a primal sound of passion that sent heat through her. He lifted her into his arms and headed straight to his bedroom with her. She didn’t protest, just let him keep on kissing her.

  He lay her on top of the covers as softly as if he thought she might break. Then he pulled his shirt over his head.

  She sucked in a breath.

  He was incredibly built. Action-movie stars had to paint on muscles to look like him. While he was fairly large, he didn’t have an ounce of fat on his body, reminding her that she had curves sticking out every which way that she wished were much smaller.

  She was a farm girl and she ate farm food, not designer protein shakes.

  He stopped. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m rethinking some of those pancake breakfasts.”

  “Don’t,” he said with a slow grin. “I’m pretty much crazy about your body.”

  That was news to her. “You are?”

  He gave a strangled laugh as he lowered himself onto the giant bed next to her. “I can barely think every time I look at you. I wanted you while I was interrogating you.” He covered his face with a hand as he lay on his back next to her. “How professional is that?”

  Maybe not professional, but it was incredibly flattering.

  “You never said anything.”

  He turned to his side and came up on one elbow. “You’re a good woman. A mother. That needs to be respected.”

  A man who wanted her and respected her. And she was going to lose him tomorrow. She looked at the wall across from the bed and considered getting up to bang her head against it.

  Instead, she reached up and pulled him down, fitting her mouth against his with a boldness she didn’t know she possessed.

  That was all the hint he needed.

  He kissed her gently at first, tasting her lips. Then she opened for him and he accepted the invitation with enthusiasm. Hot need flooded her in an instant, pleasure surging through her.

  The way he kissed her...almost reverently, but with so much heat and restrained passion. The sensations spreading through her made her head spin.

  She was nearing thirty and she’d never truly been kissed. Not like this. The realization stunned her. And even scared her a little. Because she knew she was never again going to meet anyone like Mo.

  She lifted her hands to his bare chest, her fingers gliding over the smooth skin that covered all those muscles.

  His hand ran down her arm and up her belly, tugging her shirt upward. She wanted to feel his fingers on her bare skin. And then she did. His large hand covered half her abdomen, his heat burning through her skin. He caressed her gently, moving up inch by slow inch, stopping just under her breast.

  Then his hand cupped her at last, and she arched into his touch. When he pulled his hand back, she almost protested before she realized he only pulled back to undo her shirt buttons so he could bare her to his gaze.

  “I wish I knew just what to say,” he said in a raspy whisper. “But you take my breath away.”

  Which was exactly the right thing to say.

  Her shirt opened at last. She wished she owned something fancier than her simple white cotton bra. But he didn’t seem to mind. He seemed mesmerized by it.

  She lifted away from the bed a little so he could remove the shirt, then held herself still while he fumbled with her bra clasp in the back.

  “Not too good at this. Fingers too big,” he said apologetically.

  But she loved that he wasn’t some skilled seducer, loved it that he wanted her so much it made his fingers tremble. He was Mo, exactly the man she wanted, needed.

  Then she was naked to the waist and his eyes narrowed. Her nipples pebbled under his burning gaze. His head moved toward them as if drawn by a string.

  The first touch of his lips against her hard nipple sent a hot flash of desire slicing through
her. When he laved that nipple, heat pooled at the V of her thighs. Suddenly, she wanted things she didn’t even know existed until now.

  He was a steady man, one who liked to think things through, pay close attention to every step of the process. He brought those same skills to his lovemaking, leaving not a square inch of skin untouched, unkissed, driving her out of her mind with need.

  She wished she’d met him before, not when everything was falling apart. She wished Dylan hadn’t done what he’d done. She wished her life wasn’t this complicated, that they could hold on to what they had here, that she didn’t have to lie to him.

  Then she pushed those thoughts away. If they were given only this night, she wasn’t going to borrow trouble from tomorrow and poison what little time they had together.

  Chapter Eleven

  She was perfect. And for this moment, she was his.

  What she made him feel...

  He was old enough to know this kind of thing didn’t come around all the time. Never before for him, in fact. And now that he had it, he didn’t want to let her go. The only solution was to make her his forever. Starting right now, right here.

  “A man could get used to this.” Her soft skin felt like silk under his fingertips. She had enough curves to fill even his large hands, making him senseless with want. She fitted to him perfectly, as if she had been made for him.

  She was passionate, responding to his every touch, arching her back, her eyes fluttering closed when he kissed her, then flying wide open when he touched her in her most intimate places. He reveled in that responsiveness, in the fact that he could make her feel that way.

  He grinned at her. “You’re good for me, you know that?”

  For a second, her eyes cleared and something he couldn’t identify flashed across them. Then she pulled his head down and kissed him silly again.

  He had condoms in the nightstand drawer this time. He’d learned his lesson from the other day. He hadn’t expected this to happen, but he’d been hoping.

  He removed the rest of his clothing, and for a moment they lay against each other, skin to skin. If that moment lasted a year, it wouldn’t have been enough.

  Then she parted her legs and drew her knee up over his hip, and the moment gained a sense of urgency.

  He reached back, tore open a foil wrapper and sheathed himself then rolled her under him. “What have I done to deserve this?”

  She tipped her head back and closed her eyes.

  He moved to her opening, waited, for a moment finding it hard to believe this was happening, that she was giving herself to him like this. Then she lifted herself, welcoming him inside her body.

  His eyes about rolled back in his head from the sharp pleasure. She was tight and wet for him. Moving.

  Sweat broke out on his forehead.

  “Molly.” Her name came out in a strangled whisper.

  And then he pushed, inch by slow inch, until he filled her to the hilt.

  He could run twenty miles in full battle gear, but he was breathing hard now from that last little push. His heart beat against his ribs. He drew back, pushed in again, the friction increasing, his world spiraling out of control pretty damned rapidly.

  He supported himself on his elbows as he dipped his head to kiss her, claiming those glorious lips again and again, their bodies rocking against each other, heat and pleasure building.

  Then her body went taut and she gave a small cry, and the next thing he knew her muscles were contracting around him, pulsating, squeezing, sending him over the edge.

  She blew his mind just absolutely, completely. When they lay side by side later, panting, all he could think was that he wanted to do this again as soon as possible.

  He almost told her that, but somehow he wasn’t sure if it would be romantic or just plain selfish, so he said nothing.

  * * *

  HER BONES MELTED. She’d never known sex could be like this. Wow. “Did that just happen?”

  “And then some.” He chuckled, sounding sated.

  She’d always thought romantic movies and romance novels exaggerated. They had a product to sell, right?

  But no. What they’d shared here, in Mo’s bedroom, was all that and more, way beyond her wildest fantasies. He was a great guy. Her son liked him and looked up to him. And sex with him was out-of-this-world phenomenal.

  And this was the end. She pressed closer.

  Tomorrow he would hate her for lying to him.

  The thought about killed her.

  He drew her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

  His gentleness brought tears to her eyes. She hated lying to him. She had to press her lips together so the truth about Logan wouldn’t burst out. So she stayed quiet and stayed close to him, soaking up the feeling while she could.

  When he finally slept, she pulled away so she wouldn’t disturb him with her tossing and turning and worrying about her son. She tried to remember the few times she’d been out to the mines. Could she find the right place?

  Her grandfather had taken her out a few times, on horseback, to talk about the family’s glory days. His grandfather and grand uncle had come to the area as poor miners. Between the two of them, they somehow scrimped together enough to buy partial stake in a small mine, eventually. They were successful for a while. Then they found out that the deposits weren’t nearly as vast as advertised. They lost most of their money, bought land with what they had left and started ranching.

  She thought about those old mine shafts, getting Logan back, losing Mo.

  She passed out from sheer exhaustion toward dawn, but woke again a little while later. She slipped from the bed at first light, grabbed her clothes and dressed in the bathroom. She shut down all emotion, left a note for Mo on the kitchen counter, then sneaked away.

  Couldn’t sleep. Went out to the ranch. I’ll ask Grace to come over with me.

  * * *

  MO READ THE NOTE over for the second time.

  Grace Cordero, an army vet, was definitely good enough for bodyguard duty. But he would have liked to spend the morning with Molly.

  Did she have second thoughts about what had happened last night? He hoped not. He’d liked every minute and wanted more. And not just the sex. He wanted more of her. All of her.

  But it seemed she wanted space.

  Okay. Fine. Whatever she needed. He was in this for the long haul. So he drank his coffee, got dressed and went into the office.

  * * *

  SHE DIDN’T CALL GRACE. She didn’t want anyone else involved in her lies. She didn’t need a bodyguard. She knew now who sent the men who’d searched her ranch: Kenny. And he was waiting for word from her on the whereabouts of the drugs. She took care of her animals in record time. They seemed agitated.

  The horizon was a threatening shade of purplish-gray when she came out of the barn with her milk pails. Looked as if a storm was coming, she thought as she finished up.

  A bad storm could wipe out half her gardens. She couldn’t worry about that now. She only cared about Logan today and his well-being. “I’m coming, baby,” she muttered under her breath, trying not to let desperation get the better of her.

  She hurried to her pickup and rode out on the dirt road that wound its way through the fields.

  She knew the mine openings were to the east of the house. She sort of knew where they were in relation to each other. Once she found one, she was pretty sure she could find the rest.

  Heat shimmered over the land, the vegetation dry, dust blowing from the bare patches. A dust devil rose up on the road right in front of her. She drove around it and scanned the land, followed her memories and, after some false starts, found the first opening.

  She pulled up next to the pile of rocks that had some old two-by-fours and rebar sticking out. Rubble covered
the ground, some scraggly weeds growing in the dirt the winds had deposited between the rocks over the years. Didn’t look as if anybody had been here since the shaft had been blown in.

  At least she was in the general area. “Hang in there, Logan,” she whispered into the wind. “I’m coming.”

  She drove around in expanding circles, looking for another entry. She found one half an hour later, looking the same as the first. Then another one that obviously hadn’t been disturbed in ages, either. Doubt began to fill her, cold panic spreading through her limbs.

  The mines had to be the answer. This had to be it, because she had no other ideas, and her son’s life depended on her locating the stupid drugs Kenny wanted.

  She had trouble finding the next shaft, maybe because she was becoming more and more frazzled. She was praying out loud as she drove and almost missed the spot. The opening was covered with dry brush. She only recognized the place because of the car-size rocks by a nearby mesquite grove. She recalled trips with her grandfather, sitting on those rocks in the shade and drinking water out of his canteen, eating homemade beef jerky.

  The dry brush, carried here from someplace else, gave her hope. It certainly looked as if someone had tried to camouflage the spot.

  She jumped out of her pickup and began dragging those dead bushes away. Under the brush, a faded brown tarp covered a rusty set of metal doors, the kind people used for outside basement entries. She zeroed in on the padlock. New.

  Every instinct she had screamed that this was it.

  A small voice inside said it wasn’t too late to call Mo. She almost did. But no, she shoved her cell phone back into her pocket.

  She was so close. She could do it. Her son’s safety was the most important thing here, and if Kenny thought she brought anyone in, who knew what he would do. She would have never thought he could hurt a kid, but then again, she would have never thought he could be involved in smuggling, either.

  She kicked the padlock in frustration. A lock cutter would have been nice. She didn’t have that, but she did have a tire iron in the back of the pickup. So she ran to get that and used it to bust the lock, grunting and sweating in the heat, but refusing to give up until the metal gave.