by Mallory Kane
She was light as a feather. He mounted the stairs like Rhett Butler, only his armful of loveliness wasn't struggling. At the top, he hesitated.
"There," Adrienne whispered into his neck, nodding toward his left.
He entered a bright, feminine room that looked like it belonged in a different house from the sparsely furnished, dark-paneled living room with its modern white furniture. This room was painted a creamy yellow, with white accents. He laid her on the bed amidst a pile of pink and green pillows, then knelt beside her and pushed her hair back from her face. "Are you sure about this, Adrienne? Really sure? I don't want any morning-after regrets."
She nodded and reached out to touch his cheek. He turned his head and kissed her palm, then stood and shed his clothes.
She gasped. "Oh Seth, what happened to your knee?"
He cursed silently and fluently. He'd forgotten about the network of bright scars that crisscrossed his knee like a road map. I stopped a piece of shrapnel in a desert where kids and innocent people die every week, princess. What do you think of your international billionaire now?
But he didn't tell her the truth. The truth was not part of this job. Thinking about his assignment almost dampened his desire. Almost, but not quite.
Back in character, he shrugged as he climbed into bed beside her and ran a hand beneath her filmy dress, amazed that not even thinking about his ruined knee or the fact that what he was doing was under orders from Confidential dimmed his desire for her. "Motorcycle accident," he said in what he hoped was a bored tone. "I was careless."
Then he slid her dress up and over her head and took in her slender loveliness. She was small, with perfect breasts and a tiny waist. When he slid her panties off he was awed at the perfection of her body.
He touched her breasts, palmed her flat abdomen, slid his fingers down her slender thighs and back up to caress her intimately. She gasped. Once or twice, she reached out to catch his hand and he slowed his pace, waiting for her to catch up, but finally, shyly, she touched him.
Seth didn't think he could last another second. He was on fire, his body screaming for release. He didn't care what he was supposed to be doing. He existed only for the here and with the sexiest, sweetest, most beautiful woman he had ever met.
She moaned and grasped him tightly.
"Ah, careful," he growled, barely holding on to control.
"Seth? Please?"
At the last possible second, he slipped on the condom he'd pulled from his jeans. Then he plunged into her, finding her tight, hot, ready. She cried out and he stopped, afraid he'd hurt her, but she pulled his head down and kissed him, and urged him on. Just before he lost it, he felt her find her own release.
Then there was nothing but the shadows and her supple golden body curved into his side, her floral-scented hair tickling his nose.
Adrienne awoke in a panic, pushing at the strong arm that trapped her.
"Whoa, princess," a sleepy voice said. "It's me, Seth."
She sat up and pulled the sheet with her, her heart pounding, her brain whirling with confusing images. She'd been dreaming about Marc. A bad dream.
The pale glow of the streetlights gave her a tantalizing vision of Seth leaning up on one elbow, the hard planes of his chest like a moonlit desert landscape. That silk-over-steel skin had slid against hers; she'd been lifted and held by those strong arms.
He caressed her wrist. "Are you okay?"
She nodded.
"You sure? You look like you just found a spider in your bed."
His words made her smile. "No. I'm fine. It's just—" She stopped for a second. "I can't believe I did this."
She'd thought she would never again feel desire for any man. Yesterday, she'd have sworn no man on earth could get her into bed on their first date. She was shocked by her behavior.
"Didn't you enjoy it?"
She nodded, blushing. "But I'm not the kind of woman who falls into bed with just any man."
Seth sat up, the sheet sliding down his body to rest tantalizingly low on his lean hips. Her insides quivered with an echo of the incredible desire he'd coaxed from her She'd never felt this alive before.
He held out his arm and she slid over, still covering herself with the sheet.
"I know you're not like that."
With her head against his shoulder she couldn't see his face, but his voice sounded odd. "Was it obvious? I guess you're used to more sophisticated women." She closed her eyes, feeling gauche and awkward.
"Hey," he said softly. "That was a compliment, not a slam. You are an incredibly sexy woman."
"Really? My husband used to say—" She stopped. She'd spoken without thinking.
"What?"
"Never mind."
"If your husband ever said anything except what a beautiful, sexy woman you were, then he was an idiot."
Adrienne wanted to laugh. If Seth only knew. Almost from the beginning of their ill-fated marriage, Marc had heaped insults on her, words like frigid, ugly, stupid. A shudder ran through her.
Seth kissed the top of her head. "Haven't you dated since your husband's death?"
She tensed. She didn't want to think about Marc, much less answer questions about him. It reminded her that she wasn't free. That it could be dangerous to indulge her newfound feelings. She had to be careful. She had to protect her mother.
Yet despite the risk, all she wanted to do was forget about the world. She wanted to savor the afterglow of the most satisfying moment of her entire life. She wanted to stay within the cradle of Seth's arms and never have to go back to her real existence.
"Does it upset you to talk about your husband?"
Yes, but not for the reason you think. "A little."
"I'm sorry. I just wanted to get to know you better."
The tense muscle in her neck began to ache. "You won't get to know me by learning about my husband." She heard the bitterness that scratched her throat.
"Let's talk about something else. Like how beautiful you are." He put his fingers beneath her chin and lifted her face to his. His lips grazed her eyebrows, the corners of her eyes, her cheek, her jaw. Then he covered her mouth with his and urged her lips apart with his tongue. Adrienne moaned softly and kissed him back.
He nuzzled her ear. "What do you do when you're not giving charity auctions and riding on motorcycles?"
Adrienne ducked her head. It was a perfectly reasonable question from a man who had spent the night in her bed. She'd have a hard time refusing to answer.
She ran her fingers over the hard bulge of his bicep, and realized she did want to tell him. "I do yoga and Pilates at a health club, I read a lot and I spend two days a week at a nursing home."
Laid out like that, in one sentence, her life sounded so lame.
"A nursing home? Doing what?"
"I volunteer. I help out in various ways. I have a reading group on Tuesday afternoons. I help out with lunches, feeding the residents who can't feed themselves, and I'm starting a chair aerobics class for some of the ladies."
"Wow. You do all that for strangers?"
Adrienne looked up at Seth, worried that he was making fun of her, but his face reflected admiration. "Don't give me too much credit. My own mother is a resident at the home."
"I'm sorry. What's wrong with your mother?"
Adrienne sat up. She didn't want to go any deeper into the specifics about her life. She'd spent too long under the shadow of her husband and the Cajun mob. Her first instinct was to keep her mouth shut. She remembered Tony's words.
But Seth's questions were ordinary, just as her answers should be. And he seemed genuinely interested. She shifted nervously, aware that she was taking far too long to answer.
The silence was shattered by the shrill jangling of the phone.
Adrienne jumped.
"Don't answer it." Seth kissed her temple.
But she pulled away to look at the caller ID. It was Tony. "I have to take this call." She picked up the portable handset. "Yes?"
> "Adrienne. Chère. I have interrupted something with your new boyfriend, eh?"
She held the phone tightly against her ear and moved to the edge of the bed, reaching for a lavender silk robe draped over a chair. She slid it on, transferring the phone from one hand to another.
"I wouldn't put it that way," she said quietly, her hand cramping on the receiver. "Was there something you needed?"
Tony's voice plummeted her down from her fantasy, back onto the tightrope she'd had to walk all these years. Once again she was trying so hard not to allow the mob to suck away her identity, while at the same time struggling to keep them placated for her mother's sake.
"Do not forget Aimee's engagement party next Thursday."
Helpless anger burned inside her. She knew Tony hadn't called her about Jerome Senegal's daughter's party. They had just talked about it the other day. He'd called to remind her that the mob knew every move she made.
"I haven't forgotten. I'm looking forward to it." She choked on the lie. Her free hand massaged her neck.
A large, strong hand brushed hers away, then squeezed her shoulder. Seth. His touch felt reassuring, protective. She wanted to rest her cheek against his wrist, to lean on him for support. But she didn't.
"You will bring your boyfriend. Jerome wants to meet him."
"Why?" Jerome wanted to meet Seth? The idea set off alarm bells in Adrienne's brain.
"Now, chère, you know you don't ask why. You just do."
"All right."
"That's good, then. Your mama still doing okay?"
Adrienne bit her lip, fighting the fear that rose up into her throat like a scream. "Yes. Fine."
"So we will see you and your boyfriend next Thursday." Tony hung up.
She didn't even realize she hadn't turned off the phone until Seth took it from her nerveless fingers.
Seth clicked the Off button. He'd heard the last few words of the conversation. He'd have thought it was normal, except for Adrienne's body language.
"What's happening next Thursday?" he asked, watching Adrienne closely in the darkness. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and staring at nothing. She looked terrified.
She blinked when he spoke. "What?"
"I heard 'see you and your boyfriend Thursday.' Or maybe he was referring to someone else, not me."
She pulled her robe tighter and knotted the sash. "He was referring to you. There's an engagement party I have to attend. You'd be bored."
"Whose engagement?" Seth was pretty sure the voice on the phone had belonged to Tony Arsenault.
"Jerome Senegal's daughter."
His heart sped up. An invitation to Senegal's house. This could be the break he'd been looking for. He'd have to watch his step. Senegal hadn't gotten where he was by being careless. There were only two reasons Jerome Senegal would want Adrienne to bring "her boyfriend" to a mob gathering Either Senegal was interested in him because of his money and his connection to Crescent City Transports, or he was suspicious of him. Either way, it was an opportunity Seth couldn't miss. He'd talk to Conrad. Maybe he could find a way to plant a bug in Senegal's office.
Adrienne turned on the lights. She was lovely, a vision in the lavender satin robe. Her cheeks were pink where his beard had rubbed them, and her lips were swollen from their kisses.
Seth finished buttoning his jeans, wincing at the discomfort caused by his rekindled desire. He grabbed his T-shirt. "Senegal. Doesn't he have a lot of business interests in New Orleans?"
"Yes."
"Then your boyfriend would like to meet him."
She nodded. "I thought you might." Her voice was flat.
"Hey, princess." He crossed to her and took her in his arms. "What's the matter?"
She strained against his arms. "I'm a little tired."
"Yeah?" He grinned at her. "I know a guaranteed way to make you feel better."
She shook her head, rubbing her neck.
He caressed her cheek. "I heard him say something about your mother. You never told me. Is she all right?"
Adrienne went rigid. "She had a stroke. That's why I put her in the nursing home."
"I'm sorry, Adrienne. That must be hard on you."
"You have no idea." The bitter tinge was back in her voice. "Seth, if you don't mind—"
He stopped her words with his mouth. She stood impassively for a few seconds, but as his hands roamed over her body and his mouth coaxed and teased hers, she yielded. He felt it in the subtle relaxation of her tense muscles, in the response of her kiss. Seth forgot about Confidential and his assignment as she moaned and clutched at his shoulders. He scooped her up and carried her back to the bed. The only truth he wanted at this moment was the feel of her in his arms.
Chapter Four
A week later, when Adrienne directed Seth to turn onto Sixth Street and pointed, out Jerome Senegal's spacious home, Seth gaped in disbelief at the familiar mansion. Bile churned in his gut. That rock garden in the front yard had been built by his father seventeen years before. Seth himself had carried some of the stones.
This house, grander and more ostentatious than Adri-enne's, had a vine-covered walkway between the veranda and the garage. The vines were lush and tangled, their trunks as thick as his wrist. When he'd last been here, they had been saplings, newly planted by his dad.
"Seth? Is something wrong?" Adrienne touched his fist clenched on the steering wheel.
Unwrapping his fingers from the leather, he took a deep breath. He drew upon the relaxation techniques that had helped keep him alert during field operations in the desert. "This is Senegal's house?"
"Yes. Why? What's the matter?"
In the past few days, many hours of which had been spent in her bed, his princess had learned to read him very well. Too well. He had to be more careful.
But he also had to know.
"Has he lived here long?" He tried to make the question sound casual as they got out of the car.
"I believe so. They've lived here since the mid-Eighties at least."
Seth clenched his jaw. "They?"
She looked at him, confusion wrinkling her brow. "Jerome Senegal and his wife live here with their two boys."
Seth spotted two youngsters playing in the yard. "The boys must be a lot younger than his daughter, if she's engaged."
"Aimée is from his first marriage."
Seth put his hand on the small of Adrienne's back as they started up the sidewalk. His gut clenched. He couldn't ask any more questions.
Adrienne tugged on his arm. He leaned down so she could whisper. "They say his first wife ran off with the gardener, like something out of Lady Chatterley's Lover. Promise me you won't say anything."
Feeling sick and disgusted, Seth nodded. "I promise," he grated. Senegal's wife had run off with the gardener. His father.
Inside, the house resembled a bordello. Red velvet curtains and flocked wallpaper gave the place a decadent, old-fashioned feeling. Seth felt claustrophobic.
He knew he had a job to do, and he knew he couldn't let his old hurt and anger get in the way. But how many limes was his father's abandonment going to rise up and slap him in the face? He'd already faced the irony that his latest assignment was to seduce a woman just like the one who'd stolen his father's love. Now the irony was doubled. Seth had a personal connection to the man he was supposed to prove was behind drug dealing in New Orleans.
The evening was a whirl of activity, centered around Senegal's daughter and her bland fiance. Obviously, Senegal was keeping it in the "family." The fiance was the son of wealthy New Orleans entrepreneur Antoine Gerraux, another name that Seth had heard in connection with the Cajun mob.
After a famous magician entertained the guests by making a brand new Jaguar—Senegal's wedding gift to his daughter—appear in his backyard, the moment Seth had been anticipating and dreading all evening long came. Senegal invited the men into his study for cigars and brandy, playing the rich, indulgent father to the max. Seth casually stuck his hand in his pocket and palmed the bug
. The tiny, high-powered listening device was activated, and Conrad had arranged for a team to listen in. All Seth had to do was make sure that when he left Senegal's office, the bug stayed behind. Tony Ar-senault sat next to Seth in the dark leather-and-mahog-any room. Senegal himself offered cigars and a man Seth didn't know poured brandy as Senegal leaned back in the huge leather chair behind his massive desk.
"A toast to the proud father," Arsenault said, standing and holding up his glass. The men stood and toasted Senegal. Another man called out a toast for the son-in-law and they drank again, then sat down.
Seth played with his cigar, not interested in lighting it. He hoped he could sit quietly and unnoticed. All he needed was a few seconds to attach the bug under his club chair. He sipped his brandy politely as conversations swirled around him. He heard tantalizing snippets of information—about coffee, about money, about business—but nothing concrete.
When the man came around pouring more brandy, conversation waned. Keeping his expression bland as he swirled the brandy snifter, Seth prepared to casually drop his right arm and attach the bug beneath the chair.
Senegal swirled his snifter. "So, Mr. Lewis. Is it true you've not visited our fair city before?"
Seth tensed, closing his right fist. Damn. He was so close.
"Right." Don't forget the continental persona. "Fascinating city. I hope to stay for a while."
"Seth here is a big shot with Crescent City Transports," Tony said. "He likes the coffee at Cajun Perk and he has an interest in the 'major players.'"
Seth heard the emphasis Tony put on his words. For an instant there was silence, then Senegal laughed. At his cue, the other men laughed, too.
Rolling his cigar between his fingers, Senegal turned his attention to Seth. "Major players, eh? I hear you already got into one of the major players."
Laughter surrounded Seth again.
"I'm sorry?" he said, pretending he didn't understand. The mob boss's remark was crude and insulting, and Seth wanted nothing more than to knock out the man's teeth, but his life and the lives of innocent people depended on him keeping his cool.
"Our lovely Mrs. DeBlanc."
Seething inside, Seth allowed a satisfied smile to play around his lips. "She is certainly lovely. But is she a major player?"