Love Another Day

by Gina Robinson

  Take that, she thought. If he was going to torment her with the casual light, loving kisses she liked, she was going to torture him with the kind of innocent touch that turned him on.

  She knew Tate’s tastes better than anyone. His bitch of a mother was a cold woman who rarely lavished any kind of physical attention on anyone, least of all her son. Show Tate some real, genuine, loving affection and he’d eat out of your hand. She made a note not to tell Sophia that.

  “Once Sophia gets her hands on you,” she added.

  As they strolled past the Imperial Gardens, her heart raced. On the way to shopping they’d come through the gardens on the other side. To get to the bus and coach station now, they’d pass Neptune’s Fountain on the south side of the municipal offices. And Neptune’s Fountain was full of memories, at least for her. She wondered whether Tate remembered. Or was he such a player that he’d forgotten?

  Her palms grew sweaty as they walked beneath the white and cream buildings surrounding the fountain terrace. The architecture was so lovely and elegantly part of a period of class and manners. She tried to concentrate on that and enjoy the beauty alone.

  But then that damn fountain came into view—Neptune, Roman god of the sea with his flowing beard and corded abs that belonged on the cover of a romance novel, his flowing loincloth covering only what it needed to. Neptune was surrounded by equally powerful sea horses, heads tossed back, whinnying as they tried to escape the bowl of the fountain. Real horses, not fish seahorses. And on either side of Neptune, a messenger blowing a conch shell to announce his highness. Water fanned out in streams behind the sea god and from a pile of rocks in the pond before him. Bright green foliage surrounded the statue. Beside her, Tate hesitated.

  “Do you sense that?” he said. “We’re still being watched and followed.”

  “How do you know?” she teased, but the hair stood up on the back of her neck. “Sixth sense?”

  “I know.” He tightened his grip on her waist in a protective way she’d forgotten.

  “Sophia?” Mal asked.

  He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Mal hesitated. She’d been enjoying her time with Tate and didn’t want to let him go, not to that woman anyway. But duty came first. “Should we give her the opportunity to meet you? Dodge into a shop and I could disappear for a moment? I can tuck into a shop alone, for that matter, and leave you here to enjoy the sunshine while I watch your backside in case you run into trouble.” She gave his ass a little pinch to emphasize her point.

  “Watch it!” He grinned and squeezed her butt through her jeans. “I don’t need you watching my backside.”

  “You never used to mind.”

  He grinned. “No more shops. She had the perfect opportunity to approach us in one in Montpellier.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  He grinned and pulled her toward the fountain to exactly the place she didn’t want to go. That grin meant he was up to something and she was sure she didn’t want to find out what.

  Even though she tried to dig in her heels, the sidewalk didn’t cooperate by providing enough friction to keep her in place. Tate overpowered her, dragging her back to this location of golden memories. Once upon a time, just like in the fairy tales, Tate had first told her he loved her here in the shadow of this fountain. She could still hear his voice breaking with emotion.

  I love you. Only, always you, Mal.

  He pulled her to the railing that ran around the fountain park and leaned up against it, releasing his hand from her pocket and twirling her so she came to rest between his powerful thighs.

  As he looped his arms around her and settled his hands on the small of her back, Mal hesitated, pinning him with her gaze. “You do remember this place?”

  He didn’t flinch or break eye contact. “I said ‘I love you’ to you here. For the very first time. I was scared as hell.”

  “You? Scared?” She laughed, touched and skeptical at the same time. “I thought nothing scared big, bad you. Particularly women.”

  “Emotions scare me, Mal. They always have.” He was serious now. “I didn’t want you to reject me. I’d told a lot of women a lot of things, but never that I loved them. I held that back until I really did, until I found a woman who was worth risking being vulnerable with.”

  Why was he telling her this now? And in a tone so neutral he may as well have been discussing the weather. He was so damn inscrutable. She silently cursed his spy training that allowed him to so conveniently mask his emotions from her.

  She was at a loss—what could she say?

  “You looked damn beautiful that day, Mal.”

  The fountain burbled and cooed behind them.

  A lump formed in her throat. “It’s a good memory, Tate. We shouldn’t lose it just because things didn’t work out between us.”

  “Do you ever regret it?” he asked. Being circumspect wasn’t like Tate. His question caught her off guard.

  “Regret what? Us?” Sometimes she desperately regretted their breakup, but there was no way she was telling him that. Especially not now.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Us.”

  “No, not for a minute. We were young and crazy and desperately, naïvely in love. I wouldn’t change a thing—not the fun we had together or the crazy adventures.” Or the wild, passionate sex. But she didn’t say that aloud, either, even though thinking about it gave her tingles all over. “You brought some great things into my life. Things I wouldn’t have if I’d never met you—my job with the Agency. Kayla. I wouldn’t trade our little girl for the world. Never.”

  He studied her. “No, me, either. She’s the best thing we did.” He smiled very slightly. “Glad to hear you like your job. I did good there, too.”

  “Most of the time. I like it most of the time.”

  “Only most?” He comically cocked a brow.

  What was she supposed to say? That the politics sometimes drove her crazy? And Emmett? That the raises could be better? That going on a mission and having to watch him chase another woman was worse than she imagined? In the mood he was in, he had to be asking her something deeper.

  She grinned and smiled back at him. “Except for times like these when I’m in a gorgeous English tourist town trying to hand Kayla’s daddy into the dangerous clutches of a wild-card RIOT vixen when I’d rather be sightseeing and shopping.” And not fighting the delightful, sensual sensations his warm hands around her waist caused.

  He stared back at her with a look she still couldn’t read.

  “Kayla loves you.” Mal took a deep breath, trying to forget that she loved him, too, trying to shove those feelings back into the box where they belonged. Pandora’s box, as it was turning out to be. Who knew love was an evil of the world?

  Emmett had tricked her into coming here by playing on her motherly instincts. How long would it take her heart to recover after this mission?

  “If something happens to you, it will break her heart.” Mal swallowed hard. “Don’t do that to her.”

  He was still staring at her with an intense look that made her feel he was reading those damn involuntary microexpressions that would give away that she was still in love with him. She looked away.

  She waved her hand, encompassing the area. “This is your plan? Sit at the fountain and wait for Sophia to brazenly interrupt this cozy conversation?”

  “No.” He pulled her against him and cupped her face. “This is my plan—make her jealous so she shows herself.” He inched his lips closer to hers. “Don’t fight me, Mal.”

  He grabbed the sides of Mal’s face as her heart hammered in her ears.

  “Play along.” His voice was seduction itself. “Let’s give Sophia a show.”

  His lips gently met hers. He kissed her closed mouth at first, sweetly, innocently, and oh, so seductively.

  She closed her eyes and inhaled, smelling the cologne she’d spritzed him with before they left the hotel. The intoxicating, pheromone-laced fragrance she should have known not to use.


  What was it about tenderness and attention that turned her on so easily? The sounds of the city traffic, the people walking by, and the bursts of the fountain faded away as Tate pushed his lower lip between hers, begging her to suck on it.

  What could she do? She was merely a player on a stage of intrigue and espionage, but sucking Tate’s lip was like languorously sucking on decadent dark chocolate—heavenly.

  Just as she was getting into it, Tate teased her, pulling away until their lips barely met, running his tongue over his lips and hers until she trembled in his arms.

  Damn you, Tate. She couldn’t pull away. Not because he held her too tightly, but because she didn’t want to. It had been too long since anyone had kissed her like this.

  He opened his mouth to her. She responded in kind. When he touched the tip of his tongue to hers, she went weak in the knees.

  She kissed him back, doing a dance with his tongue. Clasping him to her, losing herself in the feel of him. Time fell away and she lost track of it, but they must have been kissing for minutes on end.

  At last Tate pulled away. He was blinking rapidly, a sure sign of emotional engagement. He looked away quickly, acting as if he was surveying the area.

  “No go. It didn’t work.” His chest was rising and falling rapidly.

  He was definitely excited and trying to hide it. She’d turned him on. She took satisfaction from that fact. His plan to tease her had backfired.

  “Did you expect her to walk up, pry me from you, and engage in a hen fight on the street?”

  Tate grinned and shrugged. “I was hoping.”

  She gave him a gentle shove in the shoulder.

  He glanced at his watch. “We’d better get back. It looks like I was right—Sophia is going to make her move tonight. Probably at Witham’s party.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Tate dressed himself for dinner. No way he was letting Mal near his tie or his neck. He’d never needed Mal’s help getting dressed and now it was the last thing he wanted. Or rather, her touch and attention were the last things he needed. One more feather-light, attentive caress and he’d throw her on the bed and make love to her and damn the mission.

  Their afternoon together had been unadulterated hell on his mission focus and emotions. Mal had always had that unsettling effect on him. He lost his sense of reason and logic around her.

  He’d chosen his careers, both the software company and the spy biz, over Mal. She deserved more loyalty and attention than he’d ever be able to give her. Or maybe it was fear of getting too close to her and being vulnerable again.

  The afternoon they’d spent together had brought everything back—he was still in love with her, no matter how hard he tried to push his feelings beneath the surface. He loved her.

  He’d been throwing himself into the company of beautiful women, dangerous missions, and high-stakes business deals to fill the void losing Mal had left in his life. He’d done a damn fine job of it, too, building a fortress around his heart that had been impenetrable until this mission with Mal. Right now RIOT agents were the least of his worries. Even RIOT assassins like Edvid Bagge, Sophia’s handler. His feelings for Mal were far more dangerous. Being near her again, he wanted her back. Desperately.

  They drove to Highfield Park in silence with more than quiet hanging between them. Sexual tension charged the air and space. Tate had to get her out of his head.

  It was only after they cleared the gatehouse and were admitted to the grounds that he spoke. “The idea to switch Sophia out for you to exfiltrate her was a great one in theory. Logistically, if she approaches you tonight, what are you planning? To swap evening gowns with her in the powder room?

  “If so, I’d like advance warning so I can carry out the charade without tripping up.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m planning to do. If she’s game. As for advance warning, you’ll just have to stay on your toes. We’ll be lucky if we get any warning at all. You’ve had enough experience dating multiple women at once that you should be able to handle the switch.” Mal was staring straight ahead at the imposing sixteenth-century building with its Renaissance porch and Queen Elizabeth’s coat of arms emblazoned above.

  “The coat of arms is a nice touch. I looked up Highfield Park this afternoon. The coat of arms commemorates Elizabeth I’s visit here in the fifteen hundreds. So much history around.”

  And between them. Tate was sure she wasn’t just admiring the architecture and picturing historical events that had taken place at Highfield Park. She was remembering their past and the history that would be made here tonight if they got Sophia out safely. She had to be. He sure as hell was. He also couldn’t help wondering if the events of the night would put the final nail in the coffin of any chance of a future reconciliation between them.

  And damn him. He wanted to give reconciliation a shot. If only Mal would take him back. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to win her forgiveness. Her good opinion once lost …

  He cleared his throat. “I hope you brought your bag of tricks and disguises.” Tate paused. “Sophia isn’t you.”

  Mal turned and stared at him. “No. She isn’t. No one is, Tate.”

  Was it his imagination, or had she just read his mind?

  She took a deep breath and smiled. But he could see it was forced. She spoke a little too brightly. “Good thing I have my fake noses and beauty marks with me. If you really need a visual cue or sign, I’d be happy to give her a beauty mole.

  “Since the Area 51 fiasco, the chief is all for movable moles to signal authenticity. I’ll make it a signal—if it’s on her left cheek, the coast is clear. On her right if she’s being followed.”

  “No one would notice that?”

  She stared at him again. “You know better than anyone how unobservant most people are.”

  “We’re not talking about most people. The room will be full of spies.” He pushed the fake glasses up on his nose. The damn things were always falling down.

  “And egghead, absentminded professors.”

  “Great, we’ll fool the wrong half of the room.” He pulled the car into the circular drive, ready to hand it over to the parking valet.

  She put her hand on his arm as he reached to open the door. “Seriously, Tate. There’s only one reason I came on the mission and it has nothing to do with love of country.

  “Do whatever you have to do with Sophia, but don’t lose your heart to her. Don’t fall in love with her.”

  His heart leaped with hope. Maybe she was coming around to see that sometimes a spy had to do despicable things for the job. Maybe this was her way of saying she was sorry? He held her gaze. “Fall in love with her? Why are we even discussing this?”

  Mal stared back at him. “You’re a sucker for pretty faces and damsels in distress. Always have been. You lose your heart so easily. Just be careful.” Mal bit her lower lip, looking vulnerable in a way that made Tate ache to kiss her hard.

  “That’s a myth, Mal. I’ve only lost my heart once.”

  The parking attendant opened Mal’s door, cutting off further conversation. Tate got out of the car and came around to her side, handed his key to the valet, and offered Mal a hand out.

  That was a mistake. The minute she slid her soft, slender hand into his and clasped her fingers around his, he had the urge to hang on to her, grab her, run, and not let go. Forget the mission and win his wife back. If he could.

  As she stepped out of the car he got an eyeful of her slim ankles and three-inch nude stiletto heels that gave him all kinds of ideas he shouldn’t have about his ex-wife. Nude. Everything she wore was skin-colored. Damn.

  Her dress floated around her ankles and ruffled in the cool summer’s breeze. “What a beautiful house! Can you imagine living here?”

  He tried to see the house through her eyes. “Yeah, it is. I spent a couple of weeks here one summer when I was a teenager. It’s a little drafty, though.”

  In profile in the lamplight, she was breathtaking. Not a good thing
for an ex-spouse to be. Especially not when he was supposed to be charming another woman.

  She took his arm. “Try to act impressed, would you? Dr. Stevens isn’t a billionaire like you are.”

  “I’ll try to remember that.”

  They walked arm in arm to the house.

  A butler in formal attire let them in and announced them.

  Inside the great hall, candles burned brightly from every surface. In the nineteenth century all the burning wax power would have been an excessive show of wealth. Even in the twenty-first century the candlelight made an impression. Leave it to good old Witham to create a romantic atmosphere.

  The butler showed them into the Elizabethan-period great hall with its checkerboard floor, great stone fireplace, open truss ceiling, and imposing portraits of Witham’s, and therefore Tate’s, ancestors wearing everything from ruffs to current dinner jackets.

  Mal leaned into him. “That window looks like it’s original Elizabethan glass.”

  He put a finger to her lips. That was another mistake. The feel of her moist lips against his finger sent a shiver of pleasure through him. “Shhh. You’re supposed to be a nerdy grad student, not a connoisseur of antiques.”

  She kissed his finger. “Whatever you say, prof.”

  Damn, that simple, casual kiss made him go hard.

  A host of science-festival dignitaries from the celebrities of the popular public science and math shows to serious scientists surrounded them. In the far corner, Witham mingled with his guests as he worked his way toward Tate and Mal.

  “Look! Isn’t that the guy from Comedy Maths? I’d like to meet him. I could be a comedian groupie. A sense of humor in a man is so sexy.” Mal put a tease in her voice.

  Tate turned in the direction of Mal’s gaze. “You’re with me,” he whispered to her. “My adoring grad student. Act the part.”

  “Only until I turn into Sophia.”

  “If you turn into her.”

  Something about the way she said Sophia’s name sent a ripple of concern through him. He hadn’t thought about it before, but what happened when she swapped with Sophia? What if Edvid caught up to her and realized the switch?