by Vonnie Davis
No way would she back down from him. “Didn’t I tell you before not to touch me?”
His eyes widened for a second before he drew her chest to chest, thigh to thigh with him. “So it’s okay for that bookstore clerk to put his hands on you, to touch that smooth skin of yours, to whisper in your ear, but not me? Is that what you’re saying?”
“What’s wrong with you? You’re acting like a jealous fool. Did that man beat whatever common sense is in your brains into idiotic mush?” He was acting irrational, almost proprietary—and heaven help her, she was turned on by it. Frankly, she didn’t know which disturbed her most.
He glared at her, his breathing rapid with anger. His gaze dropped to her parted lips and he groaned. She wasn’t the only one turned on, if the evidence of his arousal was any indication. And it was a very nice indication, too.
“You drive me crazy, you clueless American.” He released her and turned away, hands on his hips, as if to regain a measure of calm.
She tapped his shoulder.
“What?”
She jumped at his snarl and smiled. Driving him crazy was rather enjoyable. “What did you say to the guy with one eye? I saw you hold a switchblade to his throat.”
“I told him if he ever tried to harm you, I’d cut his tongue out.” He turned and glared at her in an intimidating way. “If you don’t start obeying me, I’ll cut your tongue out, too.”
Gwen would have said, “You enjoy my tongue too much when we kiss to do that.” But she wasn’t Gwen. She was never quick with the comebacks the way her sister was. Instead, she looked him in the eye. “The day will never come when I obey you or any man.”
His hand snaked behind her waist and drew her to him. “Don’t push me. Not now. Not when I’m so damned mad at you I could…” His dark head tilted and his lips captured hers. Passion pooled in her system and dripped—no, surged—into her groin. She wrapped an arm around his neck, seeking to prolong the sweet assault of his lips and tongue. He groaned, deepening the kiss.
When his phone chirped, he released her and reached in his jacket pocket for it. “Bonjour. Oui, Henri.”
A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped.
“Just me, sweet pea. Here’s your man’s purchase. No doubt he’s forgotten all about it.” Eddie held out a bag. Its contents were wrapped in green and yellow striped paper. “I saw how he kissed you. Don’t kid yourself into thinking he’s not attracted. Girlfriend, you could curl him around your little finger. Well, back to the slave mines.” The clerk rolled his eyes and blew her a kiss.
Alyson’s attention was drawn to Niko when he began shouting into the phone. The tension and irritation were evident not only in his body language but in the way he spoke. Although she couldn’t catch all of the French, she was getting the gist of Niko’s frustration with the situation. He kept asking the same question: how did the terrorists always know where they were?
He wasn’t the only one upset. She was the one being pursued, the one whose life was in danger and the one who was damned tired of all the intrigue and drama.
She tapped on his shoulder and he turned, a dark eyebrow arched in question. “I want to go home. Get me back to America now. Tonight.”
“You have no passport. You know that.” Exasperation all but dripped from his voice.
“I also know governments work together in emergencies. I’ve got an emergency here. I’m in danger. I want to go home.” She knew she sounded petulant, but she was tired, her feet hurt and she wanted to soak in a tub.
“Pardon, sil vous plait.” Niko held the phone to his side. His eyes softened as if he read her mind and his hand with skinned knuckles cupped her cheek. “I’ll have you at the safe house soon. You can rest and take a hot bath. I’ll massage your feet for you. We’ll talk.” He wrapped his arm around her and drew her against him, holding her there as he finished his call to Henri.
Meanwhile, her fatigued mind snagged on something he said. Would he really massage her feet? The corners of her mouth curved in feline pleasure. She’d probably fall asleep purring. No, that wouldn’t be good. How could a woman walk away from a man who massaged her feet?
Saying good-bye to magnetic Niko Reynard would be hard enough. Her heart constricted at that thought. How had this man become so important to her in so short a time? It made no sense. This attraction had to be the emotional result, some psychological condition born from her fear and worry of being in the terrorists’ crosshairs. She needed to return to Asheville to safety. Still, the question remained: would she be fleeing from the terrorists or from the man holding her against his chest?
“I want to go home.”
“Let’s find a taxi, shall we? I think we’ll save the Notre Dame for tomorrow or the day after.” Niko had ended the call and was already leading her to the street, searching for a taxi.
“I told you, I want to go home.” Her voice rose as a jolt of hysteria hit her. She was in danger and on the run. How many attacks on one’s life could a person endure in one day?
“Easy now. Take a deep breath. Things will be all right.” His hand rested in the small of her back, making small circles.
A taxi eased to the side of the curb when Niko flagged it. He opened the door and she slid in. Sitting beside her, Niko gave an address to the driver before turning to her. “We’ll go get my car and then drive to the safe house. It’s been a long day. I know you’re tired.”
“Yes, I am.” His leg was against hers, its warmth gliding up to her core, doing marvelous and sensual things to her body. She really needed to get away from him and his very potent effect on her. “I told you I want to go home. I want to go back to the States.” She crossed her arms over her chest and shifted away from his touch.
The taxi driver glanced in his rearview mirror at her. Okay, so I am being childish. So kill me. Why not? Hell, everyone else is trying to.
Niko laughed and tugged at a strand of her hair before leaning over to look into her eyes. “Gee, and I was going to take you for some Berthillon ice cream. They make the best ice cream in all of Paris. Their dark chocolate is magnificent.”
The taxi driver nodded his head in agreement. “Oui. Delicieuse. Magnifique.”
“Margo, my oldest sister, claims it’s better than an orgasm. Too bad you’re not up to eating some.” Niko winked at her before settling back in the seat.
She narrowed her eyes at him. The man could be so infuriating. Just how did he know ice cream was one of her biggest weaknesses? “Well, I don’t want any ice cream or an orgasm.” Oh, I am so going to hell for that lie.
The taxi driver snorted and shook his head. “Tres pitoyable.”
“Yes, she is pitiful, isn’t she?” Niko chuckled and glanced out at the Paris night with its twinkling jewel lights. “Believe me, Aly, you could use both. Maybe for once, you’d relax.”
The taxi driver snorted and nodded his head as if in agreement.
Alyson gasped and sputtered before she slapped Niko’s arm. “How dare you say something like that to me?”
He turned, his eyes raking over her. “You know, I don’t think one orgasm would be enough for you. A woman as repressed as you would need several.”
Several? Did he say several? She squeezed her thighs together and told that part of her body to mind its own business—which, unfortunately, it was.
“Oui, beaucoup,” chirped the taxi driver, his head bobbing like one of those cheap bobble-head dolls.
“I do not need several orgasms!” I can hear the gates of hell squeaking open as that lie tumbles from my lips. She crossed her arms over her chest again and shot both men a disgusted glare.
“Careful, Aly, or I’ll kiss that pout off your face.”
“Hunh, you wouldn’t dare, you cocky, arrogant Frenchman.”
The taxi driver slammed on the brakes and turned in his seat.
“What…what are you doing? Why did you stop?” Drivers behind them were honking their horns. Alyson turned to glance out the back window at the headlights.<
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“I want to see how this cocky, arrogant Frenchman handles an uptight American.” He waved a hand at Niko and tilted his head in his direction as if to issue a challenge.
“You speak English?”
The driver shrugged. “When it suits me, yes.” His gaze turned to Niko. “Now, how will you handle this frigid American woman?”
“Frigid! Why you…” Niko tugged her onto his lap as she slapped at his arms. “Don’t you dare kiss me!”
He bent over her, his lips to her ear. “Grant me one kiss, one little kiss to save face with this driver.” She trembled in response and pushed at his chest. “Please, cherie.”
The taxi started moving again.
She stilled. “The cab’s moving. You can let me go now.”
“One moment.” He brushed a few strands of hair from her face. “I know you’ve had one of the worst days of your life. I’m sorry for that. I’d undo it all if I could.”
Goodness, his voice was almost hypnotic. This man, with an excessively male spirit that enveloped her, caressed her. His scent, a mixture of expensive cologne and male musk helped weave a magic spell.
He pressed his lips to her neck just below her ear. His stubble rubbed against her skin. Her eyes drifted shut as a tremor of desire, hot and powerful, swept through her. “I want to keep you safe, cherie.” A warm kiss, feather light, caressed her cheek. “Promise me you’ll stay with me so I can keep you from harm.” Light kisses touched her closed eyelids. “When you walk away from me, I can’t protect you.” He kissed the corners of her mouth, first one and then the other. “Promise me you’ll stay with me.” His warm lips covered her mouth, and her arms slid around his neck. “Promise, Aly,” he whispered against her lips, and she nodded her assent as her tongue met his. Her feelings swirled into a vortex of need as their kiss deepened.
“Okay, lovers, you are at your destination.”
Chapter Eight
Niko slowly pulled away from the enticing woman in his arms. He could have kissed her for hours, especially with her arms wrapped around his neck and her firm breasts pressed against his chest. Her moans and soft, sensuous lips quickly drained the day’s annoyance and stress from his tightly-wound nerves. He blinked several times to clear his head, as if a man could clear anything after kissing her.
The level of sensuality bubbling beneath this woman’s uptight exterior had yet to be tapped. Some lucky bastard would one day capture her heart and tap into her sensual nature. Rage and loathing rose to the surface so fast, they took his breath away. Some lucky bastard. Not him. Their time together was brief and getting shorter by the second. He would do well to remember that.
The taxi stopped. He kissed her once more, pulling her closer. “Get your purchases, cherie.” He pressed his lips to the fullness of her breasts straining from the top of her sundress. Her breathing hitched in that delightful way he adored. His need for her was growing stronger than his need for air. Keeping his distance would be difficult. Hell, who was he kidding. He wasn’t planning on keeping his distance.
Aly pushed him away and sat up.
“Does the American still think the Frenchman cocky and arrogant?” Both turned to regard the smiling cab driver, his arm over the back of his seat. “Amour, oui.”
Aly scrambled so quickly to get out of the cab and away from the nosy driver’s questions, Niko nearly laughed out loud. She looked around the neighborhood as the taxi sped away. She cleared her throat and fussed with her hair, clearly uncomfortable after the scene in the cab.
“Here, let me take your package.” She was obviously reeling from their all-too-short encounter. He hoped she didn’t give him the “don’t touch me again” speech. After that heated embrace, keeping his hands off her would be difficult. Hell, damned difficult bordering on freakin’ impossible.
Beneath the illuminating street lamps, her blonde hair gleamed. Aly gave him a blank look, her eyes glazed and lips swollen. “My…my package? Yes. Oh, I forgot. It’s yours. Books you bought back at Shakespeare and Company.”
Her present. “Thank you, I’d forgotten all about the books.” Niko held the bag in one hand and wrapped his other arm around her waist, leading her up the street. Just for a measure of security, he had the taxi driver take them to a location a few blocks from where he parked his car. He didn’t think they were followed, but then he thought that all day and still the terrorists found them. Later tonight he planned on doing some investigating. While he couldn’t put his finger on it, something didn’t feel right.
“Do you prefer tea or coffee, Aly?”
She looked up at him. “Coffee. I’ve developed a taste for espressos during my short stay here.”
“Really? Well lucky for you, I make an awesome espresso. If I remember correctly, there is an espresso maker at the safe house. Our staff will have it stocked with the essentials, and in Paris that includes coffee.” He guided her down a different street, keeping a running dialogue going so she wouldn’t notice he was taking her in circles.
A couple walked by arm-in-arm, their private romantic reverie punctuated with kisses. Approaching them was a man walking his dog and speaking into his cell. Niko mentally listed descriptions of them all.
“Do you use the safe house a lot?”
“From time to time, yes. Other agents use it more often. I rarely catch a protection detail anymore. For the most part, I am a nine-to-five worker, living with my maman in the same house where I grew up.”
Aly’s soft chuckle turned his head. “In America, we have a running joke about grown men who still live with their mothers.”
“Which is?” He was enjoying her company and wished she were up to walking for another hour or so, but she’d been through too much today. She deserved a bit of pampering.
“Well, they are either momma’s boys, who will never marry, or lazy men who want to live off Mother instead of getting a job.”
“Ah, but I have a job. So, that only leaves momma’s boy. Since I’m not married, I guess that applies.” He glared at her for a beat. “Wait, that’s not a bad thing, is it?”
Aly’s laugh caressed both the night and his heart. Something he would do well to guard, because when she left Paris—and she would—he would be lost again, just like he was after losing Hae-Won. He glanced away for a beat, willing those awful feelings of despair and guilt back to the dark depths of his soul.
She was still chuckling, and he welcomed her mirth. “A government agent momma’s boy.” She cocked her head and gazed up at him. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “Great! Just what I need in my life, another smart-alecky woman.” Lively music wafted from the many cafés dotting the street, like lights on a Christmas tree. The cafés were doing their usual brisk business. Laughter, conversations, wine corks popping, espresso machines hissing and that wonderful Parisian blend of sweet and pungent aromas scenting the night air signaled home for him.
“What duties does the second in command of the counterterrorism unit have?”
“I do a variety of things. The unit was revamped three years ago, and I was asked to take over this position.”
“Where did you work before?”
Two young men shouldered their way past them, and Niko mentally noted their descriptions. “Interpol. I traveled a lot on that job, but now with the French counterterrorism unit I am usually here in the city. I mainly handle analytical and administrative duties with less and less assignments in the field.” He guided her around a large group of young adults standing in the middle of the sidewalk, teasing and taunting each other.
“Are you happy about that, James-momma’s-boy-Bond?”
Well, listen to her. The woman had a charming sense of humor when she relaxed enough to use it. “Yes, for the most part, I’m very satisfied with my job, especially if I help apprehend the bad guys.”
“Like you did today?” She cast her blue eyes on him again.
“The ones I caught today
are not my ultimate target.” No, his ultimate target was the leader of this ring of miscreants and killers. The man known as the death architect, the man who was responsible for Hae-Won’s death. The man he pursued for more than three years. The man whom he now suspected was Dembri all along. Now Dembri had another woman Niko cared about in his demented, determined and deathly sights. He’d be damned if this man would succeed again.
“You want the leader, don’t you?”
He escorted her across the busy street, full of energy and humanity. “Yes, more than you can imagine. Enough about me. Tell me something intriguing about you.”
She shook her head and sighed. “There’s nothing interesting about me, much less intriguing.”
He stopped walking. “Look at me.”
She lifted her blue eyes to meet his.
“Stop looking down on yourself. Tell me, are you a believer in God?”
She nodded.
“Then you know God created you to be a woman. Beautiful. Smart. Talented. Charming. Brave. You are all those things, cherie. You were especially brave back at Shakespeare and Company. You fought back. In life, one must always fight back.”
“Do you charm every woman you meet this way?”
“What way?” He bent to breathe a kiss on her cheek.
“Make her feel as if she were the most wonderful woman in the world. A woman expects her sister or her girlfriends to say things like that to her, but never a man.”
What kind of coldhearted male was she married to? Had he not shown her any human kindness? Had he not given her any emotional support? Had he been so self-centered he never saw to the emotional needs of his wife?
“Perhaps you’ve been hanging around the wrong kind of man. Besides, I was raised in a family of outstanding women. Beautiful, talented, creative and opinionated women.” He smiled as he often did when he talked about his family. “They taught me a lot.” He started walking again. “Drove me nuts, but taught me a lot. Four sisters. Can you imagine the indignities I had to endure?”