by Lora Leigh
“If it has GPS on it. What happened? Did you lose your little pretty?” she asked, obviously referring to Mikayla.
He gave Tehya the number slowly.
“Got it. Now are you going to answer me?”
“She may be misplaced for the moment,” he gritted out the admission.
Tehya snickered. “Well, she just so happens to be at a quaint little coffee shop four buildings down from her shop.”
He was going to kill her; it was that damned simple.
“Damn,” Tehya breathed out.
“Damn?” The tone of her voice had his hand clenching on the steering wheel. “What’s damn, Tehya?”
“Damn, she’s with Bailey and Kira.”
Nik blinked. For a second, pure abject male terror seared his insides. Jordan hadn’t had time to send the other women; that meant they were being nosy. Nosy and most likely interfering. Those were not good combinations.
“She’s what?”
“Currently having coffee with Bailey and Kira. I thought they were in D.C.?”
He disconnected and pressed his foot to the gas, risking a speeding ticket. Bailey and Kira with Mikayla? What the hell were they up to? Hadn’t he kept his noses out of their relationships with his fellow agents? Hadn’t he stood back, supported them where he could, and covered for them when they needed it?
What the hell were they doing?
The phone rang from the seat where he had tossed it.
“What?” he barked.
“You have your backup,” Jordan growled.
“No.” He was ready to grind his back teeth to dust. “Not those two, because they already have their own agenda here, and it’s to interfere in my life. No.”
He could almost feel Jordan’s amusement. “Scared, Nik?”
“Fucking terrified,” he snarled. “Do you think they’re going to keep her out of trouble? Fuck no. I might as well just keep her with me while I’m questioning lowlifes and dodging bullets.”
“That’s always an option,” Jordan agreed. “I could bring them back to base then.”
He was going to strangle the phone. Then he was going to strangle Bailey and Kira. When he finished with them, he was going to fuck Mikayla until she was too damned tired to disagree with him.
Son of a bitch.
Bailey and Kira were both CIA brats, Bailey a former agent and Kira a former contract agent. Both were richer than Midas and neither one of them cared in the least about poking her damned nose in someone else’s business.
“You did this,” Nik accused Jordan furiously. “Admit it. You sicced those two on me before I even called, didn’t you, Jordan?”
He wasn’t above getting his laughs in wherever he could whenever he thought one of his agents was making what he considered the most dire of mistakes. Falling in love.
“You forget who you’re talking to, Renegade.” Jordan’s tone held far too much self-satisfaction. “I’m the commander, remember?”
“Commander Malone, get fucked!” He hung up on his boss, praying the other man was stupid enough to have him pulled in now. Let Jordan send the entire fucking team after him. Once he got back to base, he was going to show his interfering commander exactly how matchmaking was truly done.
Did he think Nik didn’t know his weakness? That the other men weren’t well aware of exactly who Jordan couldn’t keep his damned eyes off of?
Oh, they knew, and Nik was going to show the bastard the rules of playing matchmaker.
Jordan thought he was throwing roadblocks in Nik’s path? That he was going to make things difficult enough that Nik would draw back from Mikayla?
It wasn’t going to happen. But when he returned to base, Nik was going to see just how interfering Jordan could become.
Mikayla stared at the silent phone as it lay on the table before glancing back at her two new customers as they went over the books of designs Mikayla had put together.
Some were her own designs; others were on consignment. The gowns were by far the most expensive she had, as well as the most gorgeous.
“I love your style,” Kira remarked as she glanced up with a smile, her gray eyes filled with vivacity as she tucked a strand of long black hair behind her ear. “I heard you were good, but this exceeds my expectations.”
“And exactly how did you hear about me?” Mikayla asked as she picked up her water and sipped.
The two women seemed to know too much about her. They were smooth, graceful, but the way their eyes watched everything, the way they moved, the way they acted, reminded Mikayla of Nik.
“A party last week,” Bailey Serborne Vincent answered. “Margaret Westfield was wearing a beautiful shimmery blue gown. I was completely jealous. She gave me your name.”
Mikayla nodded. She’d done several gowns for Margaret Westfield.
“We have several charity events coming up this winter.” Kira glanced at Bailey. The look the two women shared had Mikayla’s eyes narrowing.
She wasn’t stupid, and the other two women weren’t even trying to hide the fact that they were amused by something.
“And you need gowns?” Mikayla guessed.
“Several,” Bailey agreed, her green eyes appraising as she turned back to the design plates laid out on the table. “Three to be exact. And I do believe we’re interested in having you make them. Do you think you could complete six gowns before October?”
“I could complete two by October and two by the first of the next two months. There’s no way all six could be done by October, though. It will also require your availability for fittings on short notice.”
The two women were quiet for long moments before Kira glanced at her friend, then nodded slowly. “Those arrangements are suitable.” She pushed three plates forward from the book she was holding. “I’m interested in these, though I’d need an assurance I won’t have to worry about anyone else wearing the same design anytime for the rest of the year.”
She had nothing to worry about. The dresses she had chosen were three of the most expensive Mikayla had. They were her own designs and completely under her own control.
“That can be arranged.” She wouldn’t have to worry about rent on the shop for the next two years.
“I’d like to look at the designs a while longer,” Bailey stated. “Could I come by the shop tomorrow and give you my choices? And of course I’d need the same assurance.”
“I can only give that assurance if you choose the gowns I’ve designed,” Mikayla stated.
Bailey nodded with a smiling, “Of course.”
Talk about too good to be true.
She wasn’t a great believer in coincidence, Mikayla admitted. These two women were damned good. They hadn’t batted a lash while she was on the phone with Nik, but the call they had received right after her phone call had her suspicious instincts clamoring in warning.
“So, do the two of you know Nik Steele well?” she asked them.
They didn’t act the least bit surprised. “We often travel among the same social sphere.” Bailey smiled coolly. “Nik is an acquaintance of both our husbands, actually.”
“And that’s where you heard about my gowns?” Mikayla asked, fairly certain Margaret Westfield hadn’t given her name. She was a friend of Maddix. That made a differene.
“No, actually, it’s not.” Kira smiled in amusement. “Nik would have never told us. Another mutual acquaintance happened to know where he was, and that he was helping a friend out here. Your name might have been mentioned. Gossip does travel fast, dear, and when Margaret Westfield mentioned you as well we decided to look you up.”
“And you’re here because of Nik why?” Mikayla asked curiously.
“Because Nik is a friend and we enjoy tormenting our friends.” Bailey laughed. “Once he knows we were here, he’s going to be—”
“Completely irate enough to call both your husbands,” Nik growled behind them as he approached the table.
Tall, dressed in those wicked black leathers, with a scowl on his fac
e and irritation glittering in his eyes.
He took a seat and stared at each of them in turn. Kira. Bailey. Mikayla.
Mikayla smiled back at him placidly.
“Hello, Nik. Ian and John send their regards.” Bailey was all but laughing at him as Mikayla watched his eyes narrow, a muscle jumping in his jaw.
“I’m sure they did.” His jaw tightened further before he turned back to Mikayla. “Are you ready to go now?”
Mikayla glanced at the other two women. “Is our business finished for the moment?”
“For the moment,” Bailey agreed as she gathered up the plates. “I’ll return these tomorrow, once I’ve made my choices, if that’s all right with you?”
“Perfectly,” Mikayla agreed as she rose to her feet, followed by Nik. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
“Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice,” Kira expressed with a genuine warmth. “We’ll be talking soon.”
Mikayla just bet they would be, just as she was betting it wouldn’t be all about dresses.
“You’ll have to give me a ride,” she told Nik as his hand settled at the small of her back and he led her through the café. “I walked over with Mrs. Richards and Mrs. Vincent.”
“Not a problem.” His tone was clipped and rough. The sound sent a shiver of anticipation up Mikayla’s spine and she had no idea why.
“Good.” She smiled back at him, making certain the curve of her lips was carefree and perky. “I’m sure it will be a fun ride.”
His fingers seemed to tighten at her back and she swore his whole body tensed. Sex seemed to pour off him as they stepped onto the sidewalk and moved for the small parking area at the side of the café.
Steering her to the back of the parking lot, he led her to the monster black pickup backed into the parking space. Moving to the passenger side, she waited until he unlocked the door of the vehicle he’d started automatically as they left the café.
The door opened, he gripped her waist, lifted her onto the seat, then caught the back of her head and covered her lips with his own.
Instantly flames shot through her body. Her clit swelled, throbbed, her breasts felt electrified, and the breath seemed to stop in her lungs.
The kiss was a heady, heated stamp of ownership and possession. His tongue brushed over her lips, then forged past them to find her own. It stroked, licked, tasted, until Mikayla became so lost in the sensations she no longer cared where they were or why she was pissed with him to begin with.
This was what mattered. In that second, it was all that mattered. Holding him to her, loving him with every stroke of her tongue against his, every touch of his hair against her fingers as she delved into it.
The touch, the feel of him. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else could matter as she felt the flames, the hunger rising inside her.
Until his head pulled back and her eyes opened to stare into the flaming depths of the pale blue of his.
“You won’t enjoy getting your way,” he assured her, his voice thick and heavy with lust.
Mikayla leaned forward slowly, keeping her eyes locked with his, and touched his lips with her own softly as she said, “Bet me.”
CHAPTER 14
Nik couldn’t explain the emotions racing through him as he maneuvered the truck back to Mikayla’s home. His hands were clenched tight around the steering wheel, tension mounting as he fought the tightness in his chest, the clenching of his abdomen. There was no way to fight the engorging of his cock.
He was iron hard, throbbing painfully as he fought the need to fuck her into submission.
His sexuality had always been one of his greatest curses, but he’d never in his life lost control of it. He controlled his hungers, his desires, not the other way around. Not until he met the sweet softness of an ethereal fairy.
He glanced over at her. She sat perfectly poised, her hands clasped in her lap atop the filmy, gauzy violet skirt of the summer dress she wore.
On her delicate feet she wore at least four-inch heels, which had given her legs a long, sleek look. He could push that skirt right up her thighs, he thought, and delve into the rich sweetness of her snug pussy.
She would be tight, even around his finger. Wet. Hot. She would take him. She was already primed for him.
What the hell was she doing to him?
The battle to restrain himself from touching her right now was almost lost. He could almost feel the hot, slick juices coating his fingers, easing his way inside her.
“You know this really isn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be,” she finally spoke, her tone precise, stilted. “You act as though I’ve ripped your heart from your chest.”
That was a fairly accurate summary. She was terrifying him with her courage and her refusal to allow him to protect her.
“This is something we need to discuss at the house,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. “Just let it go for now, Mikayla.”
Pulling over on the side of the interstate to fuck her silly wasn’t an acceptable option. But if she kept pushing him, then it was going to be the only option. The need to touch her, to take her, to feel her safe and alive, wrapped around him, was making him desperate. Desperate to possess her, to feel her kiss, to feel the silk of her flesh beneath his hands.
What the hell was he allowing to happen to himself? Nik wondered as he took the Williamsport exit and quickly took the turn to Mikayla’s house.
Within minutes he was pulling into the drive and shutting the vehicle off.
From the corner of his eye he watched as Mikayla picked up her purse and leather briefcase from the floor. He moved from the vehicle and strode to the passenger side to help her out. Once again, he noticed those damned high-heeled shoes that cupped her petite feet and lifted her a good four inches higher, placing her almost beneath his chin.
She had to be the tiniest woman he had ever had his hands on. Setting her carefully on the ground, he moved ahead of her as he drew the Glock from the holster at his back and held it carefully at his thigh.
Mikayla remained quiet, and it wasn’t a contented quiet. He swore he could hear her fuming without her saying a word. Fuming and aroused. The arousal still glittered in her eyes; that kiss in the parking lot of the café had been enough to fire them both up.
Unlocking the door, Nik stepped into the house carefully and checked it thoroughly as Mikayla waited in the foyer. He needed the time to get a handle on his hunger as well as his emotions.
The harder he tried to stay away from her, the more the hunger for her built. The reckless courage she displayed, along with her impeccable manners and ladylike gentility, was a combination he couldn’t seem to resist.
It was tearing him apart. She wanted more from him than he could give.
She wanted to be a part of her own protection, of her own life, and the thought of that terrified him. She terrified him in ways he couldn’t explain. She had the power to destroy him.
And destruction wasn’t a future he was looking forward to again.
He had hoped that the walk through the house would give him a chance to get his arousal, his need for her, under control. It wasn’t helping, though. He swore his hands were almost shaking with the need to touch her; his cock was ready to burst from his pants.
Jaw clenched, he moved from the bedroom and back into the living room, where she waited.
She stood where he had left her by the closed door. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed beneath her breasts, she was clearly waiting with forced patience.
“Everything okay?” Her brows lifted as she tucked a heavy strand of hair behind her ear.
She had worn her hair loose today. It flowed down her back like heavy silk, tempting his hands with the remembered feel of it.
“It’s clear,” he told her as he moved toward her, knowing he was losing the battle to hold on to the restraint he needed. He was losing it all.
His hands were going to the snap and zipper of his leather pants as her eyes widened,
darkening, her pink lips parting.
“Nik.”
“Don’t.” He was in front of her, his fingers lying against her lips as he drew in a hard, deep breath. “For God’s sake, Mikayla, leave me my sanity.”
He didn’t want to argue with her. He didn’t want to feel her anger any longer. He wanted to feel her body against his, heated and warm. Her kiss beneath his lips. Her hands holding him to her.
“Why should I?” she whispered against his fingers. “You don’t leave me any, Nik.”
And he was going to make certain neither of them was going to have any sanity left.
As he lifted her against him, his lips descended on hers, the heated satin meeting his lips as her lips parted for him. Her hands held her to him by spearing into his hair as her arms wrapped around his neck.
She was like a flame in his arms. A flame he wanted to never see extinguished.
Lifting her from her feet, he placed her on the back of the chair that sat facing the room, its back to the foyer. It was an interesting arrangement and one that worked perfectly for his impatience.
Impatience. Hunger. God, what was she doing to him? She intoxicated him. She tore aside any civility he might have imagined he possessed and left him as primal as any male animal could be.
So primal that nothing mattered but having her, touching her, tasting her.
Pushing that skirt to her thighs as he tore his lips from hers and went to his knees in front of her.
Just a taste of her.
“I’m going to fall,” she warned him, her voice trembling as he pushed her thighs apart and tore her panties from her.
Not that there was much to the panties. Damn her, that had to be the thinnest silk he’d ever touched.
“I got this,” he promised.
He had this. With her legs over his shoulders, One hand behind her back and her hands in his hair. Yeah, he had this.
He slid his tongue through the sweetest, juiciest folds of flesh. The taste of her exploded against his tongue like ambrosia. Hell, it was better than vodka and went to his head faster.
He’d never gone to his knees for a woman in his life, but taking the time to actually get her to the bed, the couch, the counter, reclined, wasn’t going to happen.