by Cindy Dees
“I think it is. I’m not too much into modern art, I’m afraid. I like my art old—and the subject identifiable.”
He laughed quietly as two pairs of footsteps became audible.
“You there!” a male voice called out sharply.
He and Emily turned as a single unit, which had the effect of making the maneuver look nice and casual. “Can we help you?” Jagger asked smoothly.
The two men halted, eyeing him suspiciously. “How did you two get up here?”
Emily laughed. “We crawled up the side of the building using our supersuction fingers and spider silk. We took the elevator, of course.”
“Who’s the gentleman with you, Miss Grainger?”
Emily glanced up at him in surprise. “Why, Jagger Holtz, of course.”
The men frowned. “Mind if we see a little identification, sir?”
He frowned as any innocent man would at such a request, but shrugged. “Not at all.” As he dug out his wallet and passed over his driver’s license, he asked, “May I ask what this is all about?”
“Routine security check, sir. Would you mind coming with us?”
His frown deepened as he swore mentally. He’d had such a good thing going with Emily, and now he was going to have to run again. And this time without a rope. He let his arm drop off Emily’s shoulder and he tensed to charge the two men. He’d take the smaller one on the right first and spin him into his bigger, more dangerous-looking buddy.
Emily spoke up without warning. “Actually, we would mind. Mr. Holtz and I are trying to enjoy our New Year’s Eve here. There’s no law against walking around the water garden.”
The bigger one replied, “We’ve had a security breach tonight, and we’re looking for a man dressed in all black and matching the general height and build of your…friend.”
“I see,” she replied frostily, shrugging off Jagger’s coat and handing it back to him. “Now you can see that my friend is not wearing all black. He was merely being a gentleman and loaning me his coat.”
God bless her. He couldn’t have asked for a better cover story if he’d prepped her himself.
The smaller guard opened his mouth, but Jagger interrupted him, impatiently now. The average innocent guy with a few drinks in him and a hot chick beside him would be getting all kinds of irritated, so he let a hint of testosterone-induced posturing creep into the exchange. “The lady and I arrived together. You can ask Horace down at the front desk.”
The smaller guard glowered but murmured into his coat collar. The reply was swift. A finger to his ear and the guard nodded reluctantly at his partner. Both looked more than a little disgruntled. “Horace remembers the two of you arriving. Sorry to bother you. Have a nice night.” With that, the guards turned and left.
Emily complained, “I know this place can be a police state, but good grief.”
Jagger steered her toward the elevator. “Let’s go back inside. You’re shivering.”
“It’s not the cold. It’s those thugs. They give me the creeps.”
“You’re going to have to get used to facing down thugs if you want to live a life of adventure and mayhem, Danger Girl.”
“I don’t need mayhem. Just some naughty shoes and a little adventure with a hot guy now and then.”
His lips curved upward. Hot, was he?
They rode the elevator down to the party in silence. In a single sweeping glance of the room, he spotted no less than twelve men with earpieces carrying themselves like more of Emily’s thugs. The back of his neck started to tingle. He didn’t like how they were arrayed around the room. It looked for all the world like an ambush about to be sprung. With him as the main course. Time to blow this popsicle stand.
Smiling casually for the thugs’ benefit, he murmured, “Speaking of adventure, what say we relocate this party to someplace less thug-infested?”
She looked up at him in surprise. “What did you have in mind?”
“How about my place? We can take your car and that way you can leave whenever you want.” In his experience, the safer a woman felt about her ability to leave a place, the more she was inclined to stay. He added, “I don’t need all these security guys eyeing me like I’m some criminal for the next two hours.”
She glanced around. “Good point.”
“No pressure, Em. Just a bottle of champagne and a bite to eat. I don’t expect any more than that.”
She blinked up at him, her mouth and eyes round. Was she so innocent that it actually hadn’t occurred to her that he might be propositioning her for sex when he invited her to his place?
She nodded in sudden decision. “As my first act of daring in the almost new year, I, Danger Girl, accept your invitation. Let’s go.”
He grinned, enormously relieved. He dared not let her leave his side until he was well clear of this place, lest the security team swoop in and grab him. He picked up both of their coats, and he made a humorous production of mummifying her in her scarf, hat, parka and mittens. It culminated with her sticking her tongue out at him and yanking her scarf up over her face. Ah, sweet Emily. She had no idea what a good act she was putting on for the cameras. He could kiss her.
Hell, he could kiss her and it wouldn’t have a damned thing to do with AbaCo’s uptight security team.
The two of them took the elevator down to the parking garage and walked quickly to her car. He never once glanced in the direction of the pillar where he’d stashed his gear earlier. He hadn’t spotted a camera, but there undoubtedly was one down here. And just as undoubtedly, someone was watching for his reaction to the hiding place of the suspicious backpack the security team had found earlier.
“The roads aren’t in great shape. Would you like me to drive?” he offered. “I have a lot of experience on ice.”
“Uh, okay,” she replied. He opened her door for her and then went around to the driver’s side of her car. He eased the vehicle out of the parking space and started up the ramp.
“Where’d you learn to drive on ice?” she asked.
He couldn’t very well tell her about his numerous illegal forays into Russia. “Alaska,” he replied blandly. In point of fact, he’d done some Arctic training up there that had happened to include some offensive driving classes. Doing donuts on sheet ice was a kick for the first dozen revolutions or so. Then it just made a guy sick to his stomach.
“Cool. I’ve always wanted to go there,” she said brightly.
“So take a vacation there this year, Danger Girl.”
She looked over at him, her eyes sparkling like diamonds. “Maybe I will.”
He maneuvered confidently through the traffic, wary of drunks. But it wasn’t midnight yet, and the majority of partygoers wouldn’t hit the highways for another couple of hours. He turned the heat up full blast, and it had the desired effect. Before long, Emily had shed most of her outer layers. The view was much better now. Despite how slender she was, she had a nicely proportioned cleavage, not huge, but full and round and tempting.
“Wow. You are a good driver,” she commented.
“It’s all about being decisive and knowing what your tires can do.”
Silence fell between them and he pulled out his cell phone, dialed his hotel one-handed and asked for room service. When a female voice came on the line, he responded, “This is Mr. Holtz from room 2467. I’d like surf and turf for two in my room with all the trimmings, plus the Dom Perignon 1983. And a dark chocolate fondue for dessert. Extra strawberries, please. I’ll be arriving at the hotel in a half hour. Anytime after that will be fine.”
He disconnected the call. Emily was staring at him as if he’d grown a third eye in the middle of his forehead. “What?” he asked.
“Are you sure you’re not James Bond?”
Okay, then. That cut a little too close for comfort. He kept forgetting that beneath her playful innocence lay an intelligent and observant woman. He laughed lightly. “Thanks for the comparison. I’m afraid I’m just a regular guy.”
Emily wonde
red about that, though. Jagger danced like a god, handled a car like a Formula One driver and ordered fancy midnight dinners as if they were an everyday occurrence in his world. Why wasn’t she surprised when he pulled up in front of one of the ritziest hotels in Denver, flipped the car keys to a valet and casually passed her the ticket for her car?
As he escorted her through the lobby his hand came to rest in the small of her back, and he leaned in close as though he was claiming possession of her to any and all who looked. That crazy electricity thing happened again, and it was all she could do to walk across the lobby without falling on her face. Honestly. It was enough to turn a girl’s head.
Enough to make her willing to bust out of her shell and try to become the kind of woman this man might want for longer than one night.
Of course, his room turned out to be a suite with a magnificent view of Denver and the black void of the mountains looming in the distance. Nothing but the best for Jagger Holtz, no, sir. So where did that leave her? Tonight’s consolation prize? Except he hadn’t even looked at another woman at the party. She’d barely taken her eyes off him all evening. She’d have noticed if he was checking the room for other fish.
She was Danger Girl, dammit. She was not about to let her complete lack of self-confidence overtake her now. She’d come this far…she could go the rest of the way toward making years’ worth of fantasies come true.
Jagger took her ridiculous coat from her and hung it up in the front closet while she wandered over to the window to admire the view. She flung the question over her shoulder, “Why me? You could’ve had any woman in the place tonight.”
He strolled up behind her, hands fisted in his pockets. He stopped just behind her shoulder, gazing at her reflection in the black window. “Why not you?” he countered. “You’re beautiful, charming, intelligent, fun, an interesting conversationalist.”
She got hung up on the very first adjective. “Beautiful? Me? I don’t think so.”
“Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder,” he murmured. “I find you positively magnificent.” Tension suddenly poured from him. “Emily,” he half whispered, “I can’t take my eyes off you.” The words sounded torn unwillingly from his gut.
“But why?”
It was as if she’d dug one layer too deep and hit a nerve. The deep restlessness that she sensed ingrained in him went still. His body froze for a moment. His face went blank. It was as if his entire being just…shut down.
It took him several seconds to look up at her reflection and smile crookedly at it. “Can’t you just accept my…compulsion to be with you…at face value?”
He had a compulsion? To be with her? Cool. As long as it didn’t turn out to be some sick obsession. Although he hadn’t given her the slightest hint of any aberrant impulses.
Their dinner arrived, and he lit the tall white candles between their silver-covered plates. The candlelight twinkled off the shiny sterling flatware, lending an unbearably romantic air to the table and to the entire room. He extinguished the other lights until only the twin candles lit the room, leaving the space mysterious and sexy around them.
Jagger murmured, “Like most women, you look ravishing by candlelight.”
She smiled widely. “Like most women, I know it’s all about the lighting and not me.”
“Untrue. Even the most perfect of lighting can only improve mediocrity so much. You’re beautiful, candles or no candles.”
She sighed. “You’re so good for a girl’s ego.”
“I try,” he murmured as he reached for her plate with a pair of lobster pliers.
He served her himself, pulling her lobster from the shell and even ladling dressing onto her salad for her. How was a girl supposed to resist all this pampering? By the bottom of her second glass of champagne, she was beginning to wonder why she should try. And then the fondue arrived. He fed her chocolate-dipped ladyfingers, red raspberries the size of her thumb and strawberries. Mmm, the strawberries. They were decadent.
By the bottom of the third glass of champagne, all thoughts of resisting his charms had flown right out of her head. And yet all he did after the meal was put on a smooth jazz CD and commence dancing with her. Not the big, flashy waltz of before but rather a slow and subtle swaying, just the two of them, body to body. It was…nice. Okay, maybe not nice. More like naughty. Luscious. Sexy. Fabulous.
His restraint made her feel safe. In control. And yet a little voice in the back of her head told her she was already wildly out of control. But hey. Tonight was all about taking chances.
“What kind of accounting work do you do?” he murmured as they continued to talk about anything and everything.
“I track special shipments and document the money trail from pickup to delivery.”
“What kind of stuff constitutes a special shipment?”
She smiled up at him. “I don’t ask, and the clients don’t tell. Stuff in boxes, mostly. Commercial containers. Usually heavy and sealed airtight.” She shrugged. “I figure it’s illegal arms shipments.”
“Seriously?” he blurted.
She laughed. “No, I’m joking of course. I have no idea what it is. I just make sure it’s paid for and gets there on time.”
“Do you do anything else?”
“Well, sure. Sometimes they need me to do other stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“You know. Exciting stuff. Like order food and toilet paper for ship crews. Or relay the fuel load a ship plans to take on when it comes into port.” Her tongue wasn’t cooperating quite as well as she’d like, and rather than sound tipsy, she threw the conversation back in his lap. “What do you do?”
“Stuff.” He laughed down at her.
“I don’t suppose I have to ask anyway. Everybody knows what James Bond does.”
He laughed under his breath. “Are we talking about in the bedroom or out of it?”
She giggled up at him. The bubbles from the champagne had definitely gone to her head. “Personally, I think ol’James was a little deficient in that department.”
Jagger’s eyes popped wide open. “How so?”
“Well, think about it. All those women, and not a one of them ever got pregnant. And you have to admit, he isn’t the kind of man who’d have a vasectomy. He’s too macho to be that responsible. Which means—” she sighed for dramatic effect “—that the legendary Double-O-Seven shoots blanks. If you catch my meaning.” She waggled her eyebrows exaggeratedly just to make sure.
Jagger all but doubled over in laughter, and she puffed up at the notion that he was laughing at her. “What’s so funny?” she demanded.
“That an innocent kitten like you actually thinks about such things.”
“I’m not innocent,” she asserted indignantly. “Far from it.”
He drew her closer, murmuring, “Hmm. That remains to be seen.”
Not to be distracted from the subject at hand, she mused, “I suppose if a girl was looking for a sperm donor to give her a baby, James Bond wouldn’t be a bad candidate—if all the equipment worked, of course. He’s smart, handsome, charming, accomplished…” She batted her eyelashes up at him.
Jagger rolled his eyes. “I highly doubt James thought that far ahead. Guys like him live in the moment. They don’t even think about surviving beyond the current mission.”
“You say that like you know something about it.”
“Not me,” he replied blandly.
They danced in silence for several more minutes, and then he abruptly strode over to the television and turned it on. A timer was counting down the final seconds to the new year. She’d completely lost track of time in his arms.
Three. Two. One.
“Happy New Year,” he murmured…
…and then he kissed her.
Chapter 3
Emily gasped. From the first moment their lips touched, it was magic. It was as if she’d been waiting for him all her life and, having now found him, had known him deep in her bones forever. He lifted his mout
h away from hers and her eyes fluttered open.
He was staring down at her. In open shock, if she wasn’t mistaken.
“Wow.” Her heart was having no part of beating normally.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah. What you said.”
She laughed in wonder. Happy New Year, indeed.
And then he all but inhaled her. Of course, she all but inhaled him back. The explosion of lust between them was instant and hotter than the sun. It sizzled across her skin, searing away everything in its path, every consideration of why not to jump into bed with him, every ounce of common sense, everything but him. Just him.
She needed him just as she needed to breathe. More.
“What have you done to me?” he muttered against her neck as he bent down to reach for the hem of her dress.
The slinky fabric slid off her body with a sexy glide of fabric on flesh. “I don’t know, but you did it to me, too.” She fumbled at the hem of his turtleneck, tugging it over his head to reveal a chest fully as gorgeous as hinted at under his clothing. “Do it some more,” she urged.
His laugh was low and charged.
Score one for Danger Girl. Heck, score a million. Game over, Danger Girl won this round, hands down. Why, oh, why hadn’t she discovered this side of herself years ago? How could she have hidden in the pink cocoon of her safe little world for so long? She’d never dreamed this was out there waiting for her. A man like Jagger. This wild pleasure that was a fire in her blood.
The rest of their clothes came off quickly, and the lights went off, leaving only the twin candles still guttering over the remains of their supper. An alto saxophone wailed a smoky blues tune from the stereo, and the air was redolent of chocolate, deep and dark and rich.
He carried her to the bed, laying her upon it and then standing back to look at her. Normally, she’d be absolutely mortified to be examined naked by a man she barely knew. Except this was Jagger. And Danger Girl thought it was glorious to have him look at her like this, as if she was his and he was never letting go of her. Maybe it was just the champagne. Or maybe he brought out the brazen hussy in her. But either way, she wasn’t about to cower in front of this man. She wanted him. All of him. She planned to act out every naughty fantasy she’d ever had, tonight.