“Didn’t you enjoy yourself back there?” He gestured to the room where he’d satisfied her wild craving.
“You know I did.”
“So would making love be any different now?”
“Of course.” She eyed him with a frown. “I had no idea what was happening until you explained. But if I agree, I’ll be doing so with full knowledge.”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure I understand what—”
“Sure you do. That’s why you explained to me exactly what was happening. So it would be my choice. Either I walk away, or I stay and take the risk of losing all control over myself and my actions.”
“And?”
“Deciding is difficult when I don’t know if the damn bottle is still affecting my mind or my emotions right now.”
“So you want me to take you home?”
She liked that he didn’t try to talk her into anything. His willingness to accept her decision put a final stamp on her resolution to stay and become his partner. “Actually I’m going through with the plan.”
“You’re sure?”
“Very.”
She thought he would take her into his arms, seal their partnership with a hug or a kiss. But instead he locked his hands behind his head and settled against his pillows and the headboard. “We need to create a cover for you.”
His change of subject was actually a relief. Her earlier ardor had cooled. Not that she didn’t still find him attractive. She did. But she could think more clearly now, and she wanted to know more about Bolt and their mission.
“Hathaway saw me at his party but we never spoke. I’m sure he has no idea that I’m Donna’s sister.”
“Good. The Shey Group can create a cover for you in a few hours. You should keep the name Amanda, so you respond naturally, but we’ll change your last name. After we give Hathaway’s current executive assistant strep throat, since we want you to apply for her job, we’ll create a suitable background.”
“He might remember me from the party.”
“You can say you’d inveigled an invite from a friend in hopes of landing a job.”
“Seems simple enough.”
“Let’s hope so.” Bolt picked up the phone, all business. “I’ll order the credentials you’ll require and set the rest in motion.”
5
DURING THE PAST FEW DAYS, Amanda had stayed out of the surveillance room and had suffered from no further bouts of unexplainable lust. She’d let Bolt monitor Hathaway while she’d prepared to go undercover. Despite her FBI training, she’d never been in the field.
Memorizing her new background wasn’t too difficult. The Shey Group had done a marvelous job of creating a past similar to her own. Since her cover didn’t require anything deep, she remained the same age, graduated from the same schools and lived in the same areas. Instead of Lane as a last name, she was now Amanda Grant and her fake résumé said she’d worked as an executive assistant for the head of the New Jersey Port Authority, a subject with which she was familiar.
Hopefully no one would question her too closely. And when Hathaway’s current assistant came down with a sore throat, the Shey Group had Amanda’s name put on the top of the list at Hathaway’s favorite temp agency. Bolstered by a designer suit Bolt had insisted she buy along with a new wardrobe for the job, she double-checked her jacket’s lapel pin, with its microphone hidden inside so Bolt could hear every word.
This upcoming interview would be one of the riskier parts of the operation. Bolt couldn’t be right there in the office with her until she’d first secured the job and saw to it that he was hired for security.
Palms damp, she pressed the elevator button to take her to Hathaway’s suite. Bolt stood beside her as relaxed as if going for a stroll in Central Park. As agreed upon beforehand, they didn’t speak. He would get off on the floor below and kill time, but would remain within panic-button distance. She fingered the electronic device in her pocket. She wasn’t to press the button except for an emergency.
And he’d left the definition of what qualified as an emergency to her. If Hathaway came on to her, would she be able to keep the presence of mind necessary to fend him off? Of course she would. Now that she understood that Hathaway might employ the perfume bottle against her, she hoped to brace herself against the effects.
Besides, Hathaway couldn’t come on to every woman in his employ or his empire would fall apart. Likely he wouldn’t waste his power on her when he had all those supermodels to charm. So what if she’d caught his “look” at the party. Likely he hadn’t meant to direct it at her and what had happened when she’d viewed the monitor could have been an unintentional side effect.
The elevator stopped and Bolt exited. Swallowing hard, Amanda watched him walk away. Not until she was alone did she realize how much she’d relied on his quiet strength to bolster her courage. She stroked her thigh, which held her holster and gun. Damn it, she was armed, ready, and she refused to think about failure. Or him. She couldn’t afford distractions. She was here to do a job.
When the elevator rose to the next floor, she ignored the butterflies in her belly, ignored the perspiration beading between her breasts, ignored her watery knees.
Put yourself in the role. This is a job interview.
And Amanda had never applied for work without being hired. Still, she’d never requested work in such plush surroundings. Hathaway Balkmandy’s Agency was a study in contrasts. Cold marble, high-tech desks, bright lighting and too many mirrors clashed with inviting apricot sofas and sunny-yellow pillows. The air was scented with aromatic cinnamon coffee and fresh pastries that added a sickening sweetness to her feelings of urgency.
Amanda gave her name to the receptionist and, with swift efficiency, the woman led her down a hallway with piped-in opera music to oversize stained-glass doors that allowed light in, while maintaining full privacy. Once she walked past those doors, she’d be on her own.
After declining coffee from the receptionist, Amanda squared her shoulders, raised her chin and hoped that with so many people around, Hathaway wouldn’t try anything. With luck, he kept his carnal activities confined to his home.
At her entrance, Hathaway rose from behind a massive desk that was covered with files, a newspaper, computer, television and assorted pads of notes. He smiled warmly, his thinning hair revealing a shiny scalp. “Please come in and have a seat, Ms. Grant. Can I get you coffee? Tea? A soda?”
“No, thank you. Please, call me Amanda.”
She shook his hand, steeling herself against instant lust or at minimum an electric shock. But other than normal flesh, she noted nothing unusual. She waited to see if he’d mention her attending his party, but he didn’t. Whether that meant he’d forgotten her or that he was an expert at hiding his thoughts, she couldn’t be sure. She took a seat and pressed her knees together, then waited for him to speak.
She expected questions, but he pawed through the mess on his desk until he pulled out a file. “The temp agency said you could start immediately.”
“That’s correct.”
“Good.” He handed her a pad and a pen. “I need you to reschedule my luncheon appointment at the Russian Tea Room with Gerald Mino from today to Friday. Send flowers to…” He paused to peruse his desk again, and she wrote quickly, stunned that apparently the job was hers, and he expected her to start now. At least she didn’t have to phone Bolt to let him know. He could hear everything from downstairs. “Flowers go to Lola Hegan at the Carlton Suites,” Hathaway continued. “Phone agent Dennis Ringman and find out if he’s booked the party planner for the spring show.” She wrote and wrote, her hand steady as he gave her enough to do for a week. But she didn’t ask questions. He had four secretaries that she could employ to mete out the assignments. Hopefully they recognized these people and could track down addresses and phone numbers.
When Hathaway stopped firing off orders, the office turned strangely quiet. She glanced up from her notes to find him frowning at her. “You were at my party the othe
r night.”
“Yes.” Her heart skipped a beat but she kept a serene expression. “I was hoping to meet someone who could help me find work with your company.”
“Why?”
“Because I need a job.”
He shook his head, his eyes drilling her. “You misunderstood. Why did you pick my company?”
She hadn’t prepared an answer for his question. But she’d always been able to think fast on her feet. “Actually yours isn’t the only company on my list. When a friend hooked me up with the temp agency, I thought it would give me a chance to see where I best fit in. When you had an immediate opening, Hathaway Balkmandy’s Agency went to the top of my list.”
“Are you married?” He glanced at her ringless left hand.
She wanted the job, but she wouldn’t let him walk all over her and his question was likely illegal. An employer wasn’t entitled to ask such questions. “My personal business is my own.”
“I may need you to work late nights and weekends.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. His tone was tough to read, but nothing weird seemed to be going on, except a boss testing his limits over a new employee.
“So if you have kids—”
“I don’t.”
“A boyfriend—”
“Not a problem.”
He grinned with satisfaction. “That will be all for now, Amanda. I have a meeting here tonight at 10:00 p.m. I’ll need you back here.”
“At ten.” She rose and exited his office before daring to take a breath, wondering what Bolt would think of the late-night meeting, but she remained so busy taking care of Hathaway’s requests that she didn’t have time for a coffee break, never mind dinner.
However, when she came out of the ladies’ room at half past nine, she almost let out a yelp when a hand reached out of a nook and drew her behind potted plants. She had her gun drawn before she recognized Bolt’s deep blue eyes. He wore a blond wig and mustache and had changed from a business suit into a casual shirt and jeans. A cap with the brim pulled low on his forehead completed the disguise.
“It’s me,” he whispered, his husky voice shooting a thread of longing into her gut. And this time, she fully believed the desire was all her own.
“Sheesh—” she reholstered her weapon and took care to straighten her full skirt “—you scared me.”
“Sorry. I wanted to let you know that I’ve got a man replacing the night janitor. And I’ll be downstairs so make sure you don’t lose that pin.”
“Thanks.” She kept her tone low. “I’ve noticed nothing unusual, but I feel better knowing you are close by.”
Bolt grinned. “Glad to know you have such confidence in me.”
She patted her gun. “I should be able to take care of myself.”
“No strange longings?”
She shook her head and his expression changed to disappointment. “I take it you were hoping that I might need your help?”
“Can you blame me?”
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, taking advantage of the empty corridor. He smelled of mint and a citrus soap, a scent that reminded her of when she’d stood on the chair naked before him.
She almost hoped Hathaway used his strange power on her tonight so she’d have an excuse to do whatever she wanted with Bolt. She’d liked his kisses too much not to be tempted for more. She enjoyed his hands on her body too much to think they were done with one another. And she most definitely missed his arms wrapped around her too much not to appreciate them now.
She didn’t want to ruin their plan by risking someone seeing them together and recognizing him later. So she told herself after her difficult afternoon and evening, she could satisfy herself with one long kiss and that would keep her going. Besides, most of the staff had left around seven o’clock.
Her lips shifted from his cheek to his mouth and he angled his head perfectly to capture her lips. My-oh-my the man could kiss. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, appreciating the way he revved her up faster than the caffeine kick from a triple espresso.
Seemingly of their own accord, her fingers followed their own path over his shoulders and threaded into his hair. And she lost track of time as she focused on the rhythm of his tongue, the beat of his heart, the rush of excitement that elevated her pulse.
When he finally broke the kiss, she clung to him for another moment before forcing her hands to release him. As her good sense returned, she looked right, left, over her shoulder, but the corridor remained empty, allowing them a few more minutes of privacy.
“I don’t like the sound of this late meeting.” Bolt eyed her, his nostrils flaring from a mix of leftover heat from their kiss and suspicion of Hathaway.
“So far I haven’t noted anything out of the ordinary,” she admitted, expecting him to pounce on her admission.
And he did. “So our kiss was all your own idea?”
“You have a problem with that?” she countered, covering up her surprise that she had indeed initiated the kiss under her own volition. She wished she could wrangle another kiss but the elevator doors dinged.
People exited but walked the other way. Eyes warm and gentle, Bolt cupped her chin and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “I’ll never have a problem kissing you.”
His words caused her muscles to go all warm and mushy. Pleased that he was as enthusiastic as she was, she nevertheless had to keep her mind on the fact they might only have these few minutes to converse. “You think Hathaway’s going to try something tonight?”
“I’m not certain. His secretary’s schedule says they are doing a photo shoot at 10:00 p.m.”
“How did you—”
“I tapped into her computer when she left her desk.”
Amanda frowned at him. The secretary’s desk was in full sight of at least three others. “Someone could have seen you.”
“I didn’t tap in from her desk, but used a unit at another location.”
“How do you know you didn’t set off an internal alarm?”
“Because I’m good at what I do. I was taught by the best guy in the business.” His lips tightened. “I’d wanted to wait until the day after tomorrow for Hathaway to find the bugs in his office during his normal security sweep, but I’m not leaving you alone with him that long. So the night janitor is going to knock over a chair and then you can find the bug and tell Hathaway he has a problem.”
“Got it.” She grinned at him. “Don’t look so worried. I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t like changing the plan. Hathaway’s likely to be suspicious. The janitor will take off running, making him look guilty to take the heat off you. And a background check will lead back to Hathaway’s usual security company so he won’t want to use them to fix the problem.”
“Understood.”
“And if anything goes wrong—”
“I have my gun and the panic button.”
People suddenly spilled into the corridor from two directions and she squeezed Bolt’s hand then let go before taking the opportunity to walk away with a casual sway of her hips. But she couldn’t help wondering if she’d told him the truth. Had that kiss been totally her own idea?
She believed so.
But could she be absolutely certain?
* * *
Exactly at 10:00 p.m. Amanda showed up at Hathaway’s suite. With the double doors to his office propped open, she could see a beehive of activity inside and relief that she wouldn’t be alone with him doused her with new confidence. A photographer had set up a backdrop, and lights with extension cords were taped to the floor. A makeup artist touched up one model’s face while a hair stylist worked on a second model’s locks. A third was busily peeling off a dress and no one seemed to notice her bare breasts as she changed into a bikini. Music blared from loudspeakers and two tall women wearing spiked heels and bikinis danced on Hathaway’s desk which was now cleared of all paperwork.
Most agents didn’t attend photo shoots but Hathaway kept close watch of his
women. And apparently this was another shoot that included him with his models, but she had no idea why he wanted her there, too.
Behind the desk, Hathaway sat like a captain behind the wheel of his ship. A lit cigar smoked in his right hand, the other held what appeared to be scotch on the rocks. Another model stood behind him, one massaging his shoulders, while two others sat on the arms of his chair.
And despite all the noise and commotion, Hathaway’s eyes fastened on her the moment she stepped through those doors. Again, she felt a powerful electric connection. Like a cobra awaiting prey, she was certain he was noting her expression and drawing his own conclusions regarding what she thought about his private party.
Oh, God. The same laser beam of desire that she’d felt at the party was back. Only this time it was five times stronger. Had he asked her here so she’d feel the pull of the perfume bottle? Was the ancient artifact close by? Her blood began to pound. Her breasts ached and it was all she could do not to tap her foot to the beat or sway her hips enticingly.
Think of ice.
Ice cubes.
Icicles.
Icebergs.
Damn. Thinking cold was doing nothing to relieve the increasing thrumming between her legs. Her breasts ached to be touched and her nipples hardened.
Pretending nothing was wrong and that she remained unaffected, careful to keep a smile pasted on her face and her eyes serene, she took a step in his direction. When he gestured for her to come closer, she edged toward his desk, careful not to step into the lights or block the photographer’s lens. Hathaway patted his knee as if he expected her to take a seat on his lap.
No way. She didn’t want to go closer for fear his power would increase. She gritted her teeth. Look at his bald head. Look at his smarmy smile.
She thought of Donna lying in the Dumpster but not even her grief could lessen the intensity of the lust coursing through her. Yet, the last thing she wanted to do was sit on Hathaway’s lap.
Where the hell was the janitor?
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