by Cassie Miles
He wanted a home.
He wanted to be a father—a real father, not a part-time visitor.
All he had to do was convince Olivia. It was a risky proposition. If he told her and she still rejected him, he’d know that her reason for avoiding a relationship with him wasn’t just his job. She’d be saying no because she didn’t like him.
“I’m thirty-six years old,” he said. “For somebody who does my kind of work, that’s over-the-hill. My reflexes aren’t as fast. My aim isn’t as sharp as it used to be.”
“It sounds like you’re being too hard on yourself.”
Since he was coming clean, he might as well let her know everything. He left the table and went to his duffel. From a front pocket, he removed a case, took out a pair of silver-rimmed eyeglasses and stuck them on his nose. Wearing them was an admission of declining vision, but it was nice to be able to see the food on the plate. “Right now, I just need them for up close. My long-range vision is okay.”
“I like the glasses,” she said. “They make you look smart.”
He winced. “And it’s well-known that a high IQ strikes terror in the hearts of bad guys.”
“Is that what you want? To strike terror?”
He shook his head. “I’m still in better shape than ninety percent of the guys out there. That’s not my point. I need to be the best, the fastest, the sharpest. Otherwise, I could be putting my men in danger.”
“This must be hard for you,” she said. “Will you miss the action?”
He thought for a moment before responding. “In spite of what you might think, I’m not an adrenaline junkie. I don’t get a thrill from putting my life on the line. My proudest accomplishment as a leader is that I’ve never lost a man, not a single one in fourteen years. I’m happy to quit while I’m still ahead.”
When he looked across the table and met her gaze, he noticed a glow that he’d never seen before. Approval? She smiled gently. “What will you do now?”
“I could continue to go along with my men in a supervisory position, staying behind the lines and giving orders. Or I could opt for a training position at Camp Lejeune. I’d rather be a trainer.”
“A desk job?”
“Hell, no. I couldn’t handle that. I’ll have some time on the training courses and some in the classroom.”
As her smile grew brighter, her blue eyes glimmered. Definite approval. He felt like he’d won the lottery. Her voice was warm. “You’ll be a good teacher.”
“Why do you think so? Is it the glasses?”
“You’ve got the patience for it.” She lifted a forkful of green veggies to her mouth. “You’ve been able to put up with me for all these months. And I can be pretty stubborn.”
“Like a mule.”
“But you never gave up,” she said. “Even though I said no, you asked again and again and again and—”
“You liked it,” he interrupted. “On some level, you liked that I sent flowers for your birthday. You always thanked me.”
“Just being polite.”
He knew it was more than that, but he didn’t push. This dinner was going well. The food was good, and conversation was beginning to come more easily. She talked about what she wanted to do after the baby was born, and they discovered a common interest in rock climbing. He mentioned his interest in historical books and biographies, especially those of presidents and statesmen.
“Do you like politics?” she asked.
“It’s not the politics,” he said. “It’s the strategy that goes into decision making. What do you read?”
“Fiction, all kinds except espionage for obvious reasons. I’ve been into vampires for a while, but that’s not the best kind of book to be reading while I’m sitting with a mom in labor. It’s a little too gory.” She leaned back in her chair, rested her hands on her bulge and grinned. “This is nice.”
“We haven’t spent a lot of time like this...just talking.”
“Well, we only had two quickie dates before I showed up on your doorstep and pounced.”
Things would have been different if they’d gone through a regular courtship. He doubted the outcome would have been the same. From the first time they’d met, there had been physical chemistry, but there had also been logistical obstacles with his international assignments and her mountain lifestyle. There might have been a couple more dates, but they didn’t really have a lot in common—not until she’d pounced.
Her cell phone rang, and she picked it up. A frown pulled at the corners of her mouth. “My sister.”
“Answer it.”
She talked for half a minute. Her frown deepened.
Thrusting the phone toward him, she said, “It’s my dad.”
Reluctantly, Troy took the call. His relationship with Olivia had progressed more in the past forty-five minutes than it had in eight months. They were enjoying each other’s company, growing accustomed to each other.
He was pretty sure that talking to Richard Laughton would change the situation.
Chapter Five
Olivia glared at the closed bedroom door where Troy had retreated for his conversation with her father. Apparently, he needed privacy to discuss how the two of them would handle the potential threat to her life. Heaven forbid that she be consulted.
For most of her life, she’d been proving to her parents that she was an independent woman who was fully capable of managing her own life. Sometimes, Mom got it. But Dad? No way. He still tried to hold her hand when they crossed the street. No doubt, he and Troy would come up with a plan to swaddle her in bubble wrap and lock her away in a fortress until the bad guys were gone.
Not that she blamed them for being protective. She would, of course, do anything necessary to keep herself and the baby safe. But she couldn’t let her dad and Troy take over her life, especially not when it came to how she would deliver this baby. This was her area of expertise, and she’d spent a significant chunk of time imagining what it would be like when she was in labor. Her hope was to bring this child into the world in the most natural way possible. The atmosphere would be serene, filled with light and love.
From behind the bedroom door, she heard Troy laughing. The sound grated on her ears. Were they swapping spy stories? Telling secret agent jokes? Exchanging passwords? Though she told herself that it was a good thing for them to get along with each other, she had serious misgivings. If they partnered up, these two could get into all kinds of trouble.
As she cleared the dinner plates off the table onto the room service cart, she thought about Troy’s announcement that he was becoming a trainer at Camp Lejeune. His rationale for leaving the front lines of action made sense. It was a life change—his life. But what did it mean? What were the further implications? He hadn’t actually said that he was going to buy a house near Camp Lejeune and settle down with her and the baby.
In fact, he hadn’t proposed since she’d seen him. She didn’t think he’d changed his mind about getting married. After all, one of his phone messages said, “Marry me.” But he hadn’t pushed. Was it possible that he’d finally taken the hint? And why did that make her feel somewhat bereft?
With their room service dinner cleaned up, she eyeballed the sofa and the huge television screen. If she sat, she might not get up again; maneuvering her weight had become something of an issue. Probably she should skip the sit-down and just crawl into bed. After her long, exhausting day with the triplets, she ought to sleep as soundly as a hibernating grizzly. But she didn’t feel tired.
She rested her hands on her belly and felt the baby move. Looking down at the bulge, she asked, “Should I go to bed?”
The kicks were an indecipherable Morse code that she interpreted to mean that the baby wanted her to stay awake for a while. She needed to think about how much danger she was in and about seeing her parents tomorrow and about Troy.
Their dinner conversation had been strangely stimulating. Even with the wire-rimmed glasses, he looked like a man of action—tall and strong with a square
, masculine jaw and deep-set, dark eyes that were constantly alert. As they’d talked, he’d allowed her a glimpse of another side to his personality. He’d been a history major in college. He read scholarly books. He was smart and sexy. Who knew?
She went through the door into the corner room with the hot tub. Two of the walls were paneled, and the other two were floor-to-ceiling windows with a sliding glass door. Should she indulge in a soak? Well, why not? Troy was enjoying himself with a spy chat; she might as well do something for herself. She turned on the hot water and went to the bathroom to gather more towels and a white terry cloth robe.
By the time she returned, the tub was half-full. She tested the water. Perfect! She turned off the overhead light, allowing the soft glow of starlight to filter into the room. In the semidark, she could see the outline of pine trees outside the windows. With her long hair twisted into a knot on top of her head, she slipped out of her nightgown and lowered herself into the warm, soothing liquid.
The tub was large enough for her to stretch out prone with her head at one end and her feet at the other. Her belly and breasts bobbed on the surface of the water like round, white islands. As soon as the water was high enough, she activated the jets and positioned her back against the massaging gush of water. Pure relaxation spread through her.
The door behind her opened, and Troy asked, “May I come in?”
“As long as you don’t turn on the lights.”
Moving closer, he leaned his elbows on the edge of the hot tub. Moonlight fell across his wide shoulders and glistened in his dark hair. Since she could see him clearly, she knew he could see her, too. Even with the swirling water, he’d be able to make out her naked outline below the water. A little embarrassing but not enough that she was going to worry about it.
“What did you and my dad talk about?”
“How much do you want to know?”
“Everything,” she said firmly. Her parents had never told her and her sister about their work, probably because it was top secret and they were just kids. But this situation was different. She was a grown woman with her own unborn child to protect. “The more I know, the better I’ll feel.”
“It’s a long story. Mind if I join you?”
Sharing a bath might lead to physical intimacy, which was something she’d avoided since the night she got pregnant. Other women had told her how they were sexually supercharged during pregnancy, but that hadn’t been her experience. Not yet, anyway.
She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
When he peeled off his T-shirt, her pulse rate bumped into high gear. The starlight through the window shone on the sharp ridges of his muscular arms and shoulders. Dark hair sprinkled across his chest and narrowed down the center of his body, pointing toward his belt buckle. He unfastened the belt and shucked off his jeans.
“I’m going to open the sliding glass door,” he said. “I like the feeling of cool air and hot water.”
“Sure.”
Without a hint of modesty, he walked around the tub to the windows. Naked, completely naked, he was spectacular. She couldn’t help staring at him. When he pushed the door open, a breeze wafted inside and cooled her cheeks, which was a very good thing because she was on fire.
Troy slipped into the hot tub. On the opposite side, he was far enough away that they weren’t touching, but if she stretched out her legs, her feet would bump into his knees.
He ducked under the water and bobbed to the surface again, shaking his head and grinning. “Feels good.”
“Uh-huh.” She tried to look away but couldn’t.
“Our bad guy’s name is Kruger,” he said. “That’s his alias, anyway.”
She clenched her hands into fists, fighting to control the passionate urges that coursed through her. She needed to concentrate; his information was important. “You referred to our bad guy. Yours and my dad’s? Are you both looking for the same person?”
“Not exactly. Your dad, like everybody else in the CIA, is after Kruger. He’s a legendary deep-cover agent—a sleeper. For nearly twenty-two years, he’s lived in the United States and hidden behind an undercover identity. It’s likely that he’s in a position of power. Your dad is aware of him but hasn’t been directly involved.”
“And how do you know Kruger?”
“My team discovered evidence of a terrorist cell from Rwanda that’s operating in the U.S., probably near New York. The group calls itself Hatari, and it’s being financed by Kruger.”
Espionage wasn’t her thing. Cells and sleepers and terrorist plots were beyond her sphere of influence. “How does this affect me?”
“We don’t know.” He swept his arm across the surface of the water, sending a shimmering ripple toward her. “At this point, all we can do is conjecture. Since I’m the leader of the group that found out about the Hatari plot, they might think they can influence me by kidnapping you. Or Kruger might want to get the attention of the CIA through your father.”
“Convoluted.”
“Very,” he agreed. “I picked up one potentially useful fact from your dad. According to the CIA, Kruger is involved with the oil business.”
“And why is that useful?”
“It gives a possible focus for our target. If the Hatari plot is to blow up a building, Kruger might direct them toward the offices of one of his business rivals.”
“In New York?”
“As far as we know.” He eased through the water, moving closer to her. “And there are a lot of oil companies who have offices in Colorado. Kruger might be closer than we think.”
“What should we do?”
“I’m not taking any chances.” He was beside her with his hand resting on her shoulder. “Until this is over, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
His neatly trimmed hair was slick and wet like a seal. She reached up to stroke his temple. If she wanted to avoid getting close to him, she should climb out of the tub right now. Instead, her hand slid down to his nape, and she gazed into the depths of his dark eyes. “You haven’t asked me to marry you since we’ve been together.”
“Your dad gave me his blessing.”
“Oh, no, you didn’t.” Annoyed, she dropped her hand and pushed away from him.
“Actually, I—”
“I can’t believe you asked him.” Her irritation mounted. “And he gave you permission. What is this? The Middle Ages?”
“I didn’t mention marriage.” He pursued her through the water. “He said that you told him I proposed, and he thought it was a good idea for us to be married.”
“Of course he did.” She splashed him. “My father doesn’t think a woman can be complete without a man.”
He splashed her back. “Not just any man. Richard approves of me. He researched my background.”
“Just like you did with him.”
“Guilty,” he said.
“Well, I hope you two spies live happily ever after.” She groped at the side of the hot tub, trying to lay hands on her towel. “I’m out of here.”
“Wait.” He caught hold of her arm. “I’ve got a different kind of proposal. It’s not about getting married.”
She bobbed away from him, keeping her distance. “What is it?”
“We’ve never really gotten to know each other. When we talked over dinner, I think that was the longest sustained conversation we’ve ever had.”
“So?”
“While I’m acting as your bodyguard, we have to stay together. Let’s use this time. It’ll be a courtship.”
“A courtship?” She couldn’t help smiling when he used that old-fashioned word. A professor or a nerd might refer to dating as courtship, but Troy was a studly marine intelligence guy whose muscles had muscles. “Do you intend to woo me?”
“I could woo.”
“And why does that sound dirty?”
“I want to spend time with you, and I promise not to bring up the topic of marriage. No stress. No pressure.”
She didn’t make the mistake of thi
nking that this proposal came without a concession on her part. “And what do you want from me?”
“I want to be with you when you give birth. I want to see my son being born.”
His request touched her. A lot of men went running when they thought of a woman in labor. The mere fact that he wanted to participate said good things about his character. Still, she clung to her suspicions. “This had better not be some kind of ploy to get me into a hospital. I have a very clear idea of how I want this baby to be born.”
He nodded. “You’re the boss.”
“Well, I can’t say no. It feels right to have both parents at the birth. We have a deal.”
“And now we seal it with a kiss.”
He dragged her through the water into an embrace. Their wet bodies slid against each other until he found a position that worked. He held her sideways against his chest. As they kissed, her resistance washed away. Her tongue probed against the firm line of his mouth, and he opened his lips. His tongue engaged with hers.
She floated against him with the swirling water caressing her skin. The cool breeze through the open door prickled the hairs on her arms. She couldn’t believe how ultrasensitive her body felt. When he touched her swollen breast, it was almost painful but also felt so good.
His lips nuzzled her ear. “You’re beautiful.”
“I’m huge.”
“Ripe,” he said.
He pushed her through the water until her back was pressed against one of the jets. The gushing water massaged the region of her lumbar vertebrae, easing the stiffness that came from standing all day. While her muscles released the tension of being overtired, a whole catalog of other sensations came to life. Troy knew exactly where to kiss for the greatest response. His caresses were gentle, but he was clearly in control as he shifted his touch from her breast to the inside of her thigh. If this was his idea of courtship, she was ready for more woo-woo-woo.
Without warning, he cinched his hands under her arms and lifted her. He stood in the hot tub, holding her aloft. Her belly was completely out of the water.
“What are you doing?” She smacked him on top of his head. “Put me down.”