Suppressing a savage oath, he hit the Play button on Nina’s iPod and spun it to full volume before stalking out on the balcony. Another vicious spin brought the hot tub jets to noisy, bubbling life. His jaw locked, he contacted his controller.
“Ace, this is Wolf. Speak to me.”
A cool shower and a change into the sleeveless sundress she’d had laundered and pressed helped Nina regain a semblance of her composure.
It slipped again when Wolf suggested they cancel their reservations at the resort’s elegant dining room and eat at the open-air restaurant clinging to the cliff, just a hundred feet above the crashing waves.
“Good atmosphere,” he murmured in her ear, when he waved the hostess away to seat her himself, “and great cover. Still, it might be best to wait until we take that walk along the beach to shed our respective roles.”
Good God! Did they have unseen observers watching them even here? Aiming some superbionic electronic ear their way from the top of the cliff or the balcony of one of the casitas?
Feeling hunted, Nina almost jumped out of her skin when Wolf bent lower and dropped a kiss just under her ear. Pure reflex had her hunching a shoulder and jerking quickly to one side.
“What are you doing?”
“Initiating the next phase of my campaign to make you forget the past and concentrate on our future.”
Wolf reeled off the answer easily enough. Shaking off the lingering effect of that brief taste took considerably more effort.
It didn’t help that Mackenzie had completed the signal intercept. According to Ace, the transmissions from the device behind the flat screen TV in Nina’s living room traced to a receiver aboard one of the boats anchored in the Mayan Princess’s protected cove.
Wolf could see it from where he sat. The twenty-foot runabout bobbed on the slowly darkening sea. Who manned her? Who was listening? Cordell’s henchmen? Alekseev’s contacts? Or an unidentified third party? The uncertainty scraped at Wolf’s nerves.
He’d find the answer. Later.
Right now he was still processing Ace’s second bit of news. Turns out Cordell had taken a very interesting phone call in his study late this afternoon. The listening device Wolf had planted picked up every word. Slick as ever, Cordell couched his conversation to sound as though he was auctioning off one of his sculptures and indicated he was waiting to hear from one last buyer. The buyer had until noon tomorrow to put in his offer, then Cordell would close the deal and advise the successful bidder where and how to take delivery of the merchandise.
The clock was winding down, and with every second that ticked off Wolf’s tension mounted. He was sick of waiting, tired of watching.
Putting a hard clamp on his impatience, he slipped back into the role of Nina’s fiancé and scooted his chair over a few inches. His arm stretched across the back of hers. He kept his gaze on the spectacular sunset until a waiter materialized at their table.
“Would you like a drink before dinner?”
“We would.” He gave Nina’s shoulders an affectionate squeeze. “Let’s have Champagne, Pumpkin, to celebrate our new beginning.”
She didn’t roll her eyes, but she came close. Despite the simmering tension, Wolf had to hide a grin as he placed the order.
“Cristal brut, 2002.”
“Excellent choice, señor.”
“And very expensive,” Nina commented as the waiter left to put in the order.
“You’re worth it.”
Nina would always blame the Champagne for what happened next. She didn’t drink that much. A glass and a half. Two at most.
But those glasses hit hard. Probably because she’d taken only a few bites of breakfast and been too nervous to do more than sample the coquilles St. Jacques Cordell’s chef had prepared for lunch. She tried to blunt the bubbly’s impact with a Caesar salad mixed table side and succulent tilapia with angel hair pasta, but the heady sensation stayed with her right through a caramel crème brûlée to die for.
Wolf, damn him, exacerbated her tingly feeling at regular intervals with oh-so-casual touches. She knew he was merely performing his self-assigned role. That didn’t stop the nerves just under her skin from dancing every time he touched her. Or keep her from quivering with anticipation at the idea of a moonlight stroll on the shore. Alone. Away from prying eyes or hidden devices.
Her anticipation mounted when they left the restaurant and approached the elevators. One bank ferried guests up to the resort’s main lobby. Another whizzed them down the beach beyond the cliffs.
Wolf paused and gave her a choice. “You’ve had a helluva day. Are you too tired to take a walk?”
Nina prided herself on her common sense. She always thought things through, studied every option, made decisions only after considering all the facts. Every way she looked at the idea of a stroll along the beach with Wolf suggested she would be wise to take the out he offered. Wise, but dull, dull, dull. Tucking rational, deliberate Nina away for another day, she shrugged.
“After that sinful crème brûlée, I need a walk.”
Ha! Who was she kidding? What she wanted was to lock her arms around Wolf’s neck and drag him down into the surf, to make wild, passionate love à la Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr in From Here To Eternity.
All too vivid images of his naked body sprawled atop hers haunted Nina as she and Wolf left a trail of footprints in the damp sand. Not until they reached a small cove some distance from the hotel and she’d kicked off her shoes to wade into the shallows did the images evaporate. The shock of a cold wave slapping her calves banished them instantly. No way she was dragging anyone into this chilly water to have her evil way with him!
With the surf foaming around her ankles, she headed for the shelter of the cove, but the now retreating wave cut the sand out from under her feet. She windmilled wildly and would have gone down if not for Wolf’s quick reaction.
“Careful.” He swept her up, out of the sucking sand and water. “The undertow can be treacherous along this stretch of coast.”
Not just the undertow, she realized when he hefted her higher against his chest. The combination of moonlight, the relentless song of the sea and the feel of his arms around her was every bit as dangerous.
The skirt of her linen dress trailed in the surf as he carried her out of the water. She expected him to put her down once they’d gained higher ground. Instead, he stopped at the water’s edge and stood there with her in his arms.
Surprised, Nina glanced up. The moon’s glow cast his features into sharp planes and angles. His jaw had locked, she saw, and the look in his eyes sent her already heightened senses into a joyous leap.
He wanted to kiss her, she saw with fierce elation, and not merely as a distraction this time! The desire was there, sudden and raw, more than matching her own.
As he had this morning outside Cordell’s hacienda, Wolf gave her time to cry foul. One word, and he would have put her down. One slight tilt of her head away from his, and he would have ended it.
Nina had no intention of letting him end anything. She made that clear when she slid her free arm up to join the one she’d looped around his neck. He reacted to the glide of her palm over his chest and shoulder with a gruff warning.
“We’re playing with fire here.”
“I know.”
When she tightened her arm, brought her mouth within an inch of his, he issued one last warning.
“This wouldn’t be for show, Nina.”
“God, I hope not!”
Chapter 8
With all due respect to Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr, making love on a moon-and sea-swept beach lacked certain basic amenities.
Like the assurance of privacy, for one thing. Although Nina estimated they’d walked a half mile or more from the Mayan’s floodlit grounds, another couple might decide to take the same moonlight stroll. Or worse, the Russians Wolf said were scoping her out.
Then there was the small matter of sand fleas. Nina didn’t notice them nipping at her bare t
oes right away. She was too aroused, too eager to touch and be touched.
Wolf didn’t appear to notice them, either. Burying a hand in her hair, he anchored her head for his kiss. His other hand slid down her back to cup her bottom and urge her closer. They stood chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis, straining against each other while his hand roamed her derriere.
“I was right,” he murmured against her lips. “You’re as soft and smooth as—”
She interrupted him with an indignant huff. “You’d better not be going where I think you’re going with that!”
Laughing, he avoided any further reference to pumpkins and dipped his head to kiss the slopes of her breasts above the neckline of her sundress. When he eased open the top few buttons for greater access, Nina sucked in a swift breath. Her stomach hollowed at the rasp of his tongue on her bare skin. The sensation was so erotic she had to dig her fingers into his shoulders to steady herself.
Her shaky legs gave out a few moments later, right along with her ability to withstand his assault on her senses. She sank to her knees in the soft sand. He followed, holding her close. She could feel him rock hard and jutting against her stomach. The sensual pressure tightened her own belly and sent spirals of dark, hot pleasure spinning through her.
She was panting when he tumbled her down to the sand. Her dress flared out like a beach blanket and should have protected her more from most uninvited guests. Four wiggles and a hard slap later, she recognize the error of her thinking.
“I’m being eaten alive.”
“That’s the plan,” Wolf said with a look that curled her toes into the sand. “But maybe we should adjourn to the resort first.”
They made the twenty-minute walk back to the Mayan Princess in ten. As swift as the hike was, it gave Wolf the time he need to recirculate the blood that had emptied out of his brain and pooled below his waist.
He had to be out of his mind. He’d had a taste of what this woman could do to him earlier this afternoon. He knew better than to play with fire like this. Letting down his guard for even a few minutes was a good way to get real dead, real fast.
He was in the midst of an op, for God’s sake. He had a boat anchored less than a hundred yards off shore. Men hunched over a receiver, tuned in to any sounds emanating from Nina’s casita. Yet all Wolf could think of was hauling her back to the suite and getting her naked.
Nina Grant had him tied in knots like none he’d ever learned in the navy. He’d damn well better take control of the situation. Rein in his raging hunger and in the process bring her down carefully, gently.
He had every intention of doing exactly that. Even when they reached the lighted pathway leading from the beach to the resort and he glanced down at her. Silvery sand dusted almost every inch of her skin. Her hair had tumbled around her shoulders in a wild tangle of honey brown. The lower half of her dress was soaked from the surf, the upper half buttoned haphazardly. But it was the smile she flashed him that got Wolf so hard and tight again he almost doubled over.
If he worked at it, he could rationalize making love to her. He was almost ninety-nine-percent sure those were Cordell’s goons out on that boat, listening in. By making an obvious show of taking Nina to bed, Wolf would mark her as his and send a signal to Cordell to back off.
It was that one percent that gnawed at him. So much, that his head was still waging a fierce battle with his body when the door closed behind them.
Nina had no such reservations. The moment they were inside she dropped her sandals, turned and tugged his shirt free of his slacks. With the tails came a shower of sand.
“We must have brought half the beach back with us,” she said between quick, nipping kisses. “I hope we didn’t bring anything else, Wo… Kevin.”
She caught herself in time, but the near miss reinforced his decision to call a halt. Now. Before he let down his guard again and put her at even more risk.
“I’m sorry, Nina.” He didn’t have to feign a show of reluctance when he reached up and eased her arms from around his neck. “You were right earlier.”
Confusion worked its way through the hot desire in her eyes. “About…?”
“I came down to Cabo thinking all I had to do was finesse you into bed to make things right between us. I see now that’s not the way to win you back.”
He had to touch her, if for no other reason than to blunt her dawning comprehension and dismay. He brushed a knuckle over her cheek and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod toward the flat screen TV.
“I still want you.” God, he wanted her! “I’m willing to wait until you trust me again, though.”
“You are, huh?” Shooting daggers at him, she played to their unseen audience. “We’ve got a long way to go before that happens, Kevin.”
“I know.”
“I’m glad you recognize that.” She tossed her tangled hair and left him to stew in his own juices. “You know where the spare pillows and blankets are. Good night.”
She didn’t exactly slam the bedroom door, but the solid thud spoke volumes. Wolf thought about following her to explain his sudden about-face. The fact that he was afraid to test his tenuous control took everything he knew about himself and turned it upside down.
With a smothered curse, he went to the kitchenette to make a pot of coffee. It was going to be a long night. Even longer now that the brown-eyed doc had tied him in knots!
He waited until 2:00 a.m. to make his move.
Moving silently on bare feet, Wolf cracked the bedroom door. Nina’s steady breathing assured him she was out for the count. The sheets tangled around her hips and legs suggested she hadn’t gone down without a fight.
Guilt and regret nagged at him as he retrieved his gear bag from the closet where he’d stashed it earlier. He’d had plenty of time in the past few hours to acknowledge how badly he’d handled the situation down on the beach.
He should have called a halt after the first kiss. He was supposed to be the trained agent, the one with the cool head and iron nerves. Instead, he’d let his body call the shots. Like some overeager teen fumbling around with his girlfriend in the backseat of his daddy’s car, for God’s sake! He suspected Nina would take a long time forgiving that bit of idiocy.
With a silent apology, he clicked the door shut and went into the bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later in the wet suit he wore so often in his work that it felt like a second skin. A waterproof waist pack held his phone and the kit he’d put together for situations like this one. He’d left his scuba gear and air tanks in the trunk of Mannie’s car, but he wouldn’t need them for this job. Not with the roundabout anchored so close to shore.
Before exiting the casita, Wolf rigged one of Mac’s low-tech but extremely effective alarms. If anyone tried the door while he was gone, a siren-like wail would wake Nina and everyone else within a half-mile radius.
A murmur of subdued voices drifted from the adult pool, but the rest of the resort had shut down for the night. Still, Wolf avoided the elevators and stuck to the shadow of the stairs that wound down to the beach. Once there, he turned left, away from the moon-washed stretch of shore he’d walked with Nina. His goal this time was the protected cove sheltering the resort’s water sports marina—and the pleasure craft riding at the ends of their anchor chains. There were four. Two sailboats with their sails furled, one cabin cruiser showing only its safety lights, and the twenty-two-foot runabout.
Before going into the water, Wolf extracted a camo stick from his waist pack. A few quick strokes blackened his face and hands. Then he entered the sea at an angle that would allow him to take advantage of the strong undercurrents to carry him toward the runabout.
Cutting through the dark water felt as natural to Wolf as breathing. It should. He’d spent half his life in this dimension. All those years of training and experience as a naval underwater demolition specialist had led naturally to a follow-on career in the same field. It was a dangerous and highly specialized profession, but one he and the men he employed excelled a
t.
This was what he knew, what he did. Instead of tiring, Wolf felt his strength and stamina build a little more with each stroke. And with each clean, silent stroke, the runabout got a little closer.
Even in the darkness he could see the boat was new and well maintained. Its fiberglass hull gleamed. Its eco-friendly, air-cooled electric engine would ensure it entree into marinas trending away from traditional gas-powered boats.
Admiring the boat’s sleek lines, Wolf slipped under the water and swam submerged until the hull loomed directly ahead. He surfaced portside, nothing more than a shadow on the dark water, and listened intently. The only sounds he picked up were the wash of waves against the hull and the creak of the anchor chain as the runabout rode the low swells.
As silent as an eel, Wolf swam to the stern and hauled himself over the side so carefully the gunwale hardly rocked. He crouched in the deck well, listening, waiting, his gaze locked on the dim light that speared through the cabin’s half-closed hatch. Only when he was satisfied that he’d come aboard undetected did he approach the cabin.
The two-man crew was inside. One snored loudly in the runabout’s bunk. The other sat slumped over the built-in table next to the bank of navigational equipment, his head on his crossed arms and a set of earphones on the table beside him.
With a grim smile, Wolf eased into the cabin, reached into his waist pack for two plastic capsules and pinched them under each man’s nose. One whiff of the colorless, nonlethal gas would keep them both out cold for a good hour.
He needed less than a fraction of that to find what he’d come looking for. A handwritten log sat next to the ship-to-shore radio. The watchers had made annotations indicating each time Wolf and Nina had entered and exited the casita since noon. Ditto the times they’d engaged in conversations.
Two separate log entries indicated a radio report to “base,” the latest one just after midnight. Beside the last entry was a note relaying instructions from Señor Cordell to maintain their position.
Risky Engagement Page 8