Instead, he let his cheek rest on the top of her head. “Nic, then. And don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere until we get Clive Fuentes and those bastards at TCM.”
Problem was, the TCM investigation was heading into month six. What if it took another six months for them to get things under control? By then, Nic would be close to eight and a half months, and—
His thoughts veered away from the sudden image of her fully pregnant, her cheeks and belly round with it.
“I called Dr. Eballa,” he said, standing abruptly and holding out a hand to help her up. “She’ll meet us at my condo.”
His condo. His refuge, where he’d never brought a protectee before. Never brought a woman before.
Nicole frowned. “Won’t they be watching your place?”
“They’re in for some nasty surprises if they try anything. Cam, one of the PPS operatives, is a whiz with security and he hooked me up with all the latest. We’ll be safe there for an hour or so.” Which was about how long it would take her attacker to scramble the helicopter for an aerial attack, which not even Cam’s finest devices could hold out against.
“And after that?”
“One thing at a time,” he said, and led her out of her room and through the hotel with his 9 mm at the ready.
HIS CONDO, half of a large craftsman-style home the previous owners had inexplicably split into a two-family, was less than twenty minutes from the airport hotel cluster. At barely 4:00 a.m. near the end of summer, the Denver streets were quiet, making him feel exposed and too obvious as he pulled into the driveway on his side of the house.
A small LED light on the mailbox flicked from red to green and back to red as the device recognized the transponder in his Jeep. Should another, unidentified vehicle pass through, two hidden cameras would activate and a chime would sound in the house, warning of company. A series of motion detectors around the house provided a second line of defense, flicking on lights as Ethan and Nicole emerged from the Jeep and he led her around to the side entrance. There, he pressed his thumb to a glossy pad for identification, and when his print was accepted, keyed in an alphanumeric password that changed on a weekly basis.
“Impressive,” Nic said from beside him. “I take it you’ve had to hide people here before?”
“The guys were working on a new system and needed a guinea pig.” Ethan unlocked the door with a coded key and ushered her through. “Evangeline volunteered me.”
As he locked the door behind them, he shrugged against the tension that gathered in his shoulders. When he turned back, he found her poised at the entrance to his main room, backlit by the lamps that had come on when he’d keyed through the security system.
He’d filled his place with mission-style furniture that complemented the clean lines and carved embellishments of the townhouse, and he’d covered the windows with slatted wood blinds that matched the polished hardwood floors. He’d left the other stuff to a decorator who’d been another of Evangeline’s projects—a wispy twenty-something with a soft voice and a prison tattoo on the back of one hand—and had wound up with upholstery, rugs and curtains all in shades of green and tan, with an occasional pop of royal-blue. It was all clean and linear, and he kept it pin-neat. That part was only rational, because he never knew when he’d be leaving for an assignment, and there was nothing worse than coming home to chaos.
Except, he realized with a start, this time he’d brought the chaos home with him.
Nic’s eyes were shadowed with questions and fears as she looked at him. He expected her to ask for reassurance.
Instead, she grimaced. “I’m sorry about this, Ethan. I know babysitting me isn’t exactly what you had planned for the week.”
Deciding they could either tiptoe around the issue or face it head-on, he said, “I expect being a single mom wasn’t what you’d planned for your next eighteen years or so, either.”
She smiled faintly and lifted one shoulder. “Maybe. But it was way more fun than going to a sperm bank.”
That startled a laugh out of him. He crossed to her and took her hands to give them a friendly squeeze. Then he looked at her for a long moment, seeing how she didn’t really fit among his things, and shook his head. “This would be a whole lot easier if I didn’t like you.”
Her smile went crooked. “Same goes.”
And though they both knew this wasn’t the right situation and they weren’t the right couple, it felt absolutely, positively right to Ethan when he leaned down and kissed her.
NIC SAW the change in his eyes, saw that he gave her plenty of time to back off, but her instincts for self-preservation lost the battle.
She and Ethan had been lovers and she carried his child. Why not kiss him? If nothing else, she could prove to herself that the things she’d felt that night had been amplified by her emotions and one drink too many. There was no way it could be as good as she remembered.
Except it was.
The moment their lips touched, her mind blanked to everything but the flare of heat that came with the first moment of contact, when he hesitated ever so slightly, as though waiting for her to pull away. Instead, she leaned in and opened to him, helpless to stop the faint gasp that escaped when their tongues touched, tentatively at first and then with growing pressure, increasing heat and need.
She slid her arms around his neck and rose up on her tiptoes to align their mouths more surely as the kiss grew wetter, hotter, more demanding. Her nipples tightened and need spiked deep in her belly, sharp and fierce. She strained closer to him even as some small part of her brain, the part that hadn’t fully short-circuited at the feel of his hard muscles and the close-clipped hair beneath her fingertips, registered a pang of fear.
It wasn’t a false memory. The feelings were real. The need was real, but Ethan had made it clear he couldn’t give her any more than he already had.
As though realizing the same thing, he broke the kiss and pressed his lips to her forehead, letting them linger there while they breathed together, their rhythms perfectly in tune. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice rough. “We shouldn’t do this.”
The evidence of his desire was a good, hard lump pressing into her, one that had her rubbing against him to feel the answering flare within, the answering burn of her blood. “Probably not,” she said, but she didn’t care, which was a revelation.
Nic had never been particularly sexual or spontaneous, which was why Jonah had looked elsewhere for excitement. She was steady and reliable, not exciting and fun. Except, it appeared, with this man. With Ethan.
“This is crazy,” he said, barely getting the words out before he was kissing her again.
“Crazy,” she agreed as a bubble of excitement worked its way up from her belly and pressed in her throat, and her head spun with the mad heat of it all, the joy of feeling her body respond. It had been a long time since she’d felt like this, if ever. She grinned as she unlinked her hands from around his neck and let them slide down to rest at his waist. Through the warm material of his shirt, she felt the taut muscles of his abdomen clench at her touch. “Insane.”
She leaned into him and he reached down for her, and they met halfway. There was no hesitation this time, no more discussion. Everything around them might be incomprehensible, but this made sense, she thought. This was right. It was real.
He slanted his mouth across hers and his fingers went to work on the clothes she’d slept in, the clothes she’d nearly died in. Moments later, his fingers touched the bare skin of her waist, sending pinprick lightning sizzles through her body. She murmured his name against his lips and crowded close, tugging his shirt from his waistband and sliding her hands up to the hard planes of his chest, where a smattering of hair dusted his warm, masculine skin.
Her head spun, the room spun, but not because of the fading effects of the concussion. It was because of Ethan. Only Ethan.
Still kissing her, he walked them through his living room until they bumped into a couch. She had a brief impression of polished wo
od and lots of masculine greens and browns, and then they dropped to the couch in perfect accord. He came down atop her, bracing himself not to crush her with his full weight while he shifted, pulled a deadly looking gun from his waistband, and set it on a nearby end table with an ominous clunk.
The gesture was a cold splash of reality, a reminder of the danger stalking her. But they were safe in Ethan’s home, Nic knew, letting the feeling of security warm her as she nestled against him. Kissed him. Touched him. Within moments, they were straining together, male against female, hard against soft. The madness rocketed through her, the need to feel him, caress him, sink herself into him and surround him all at once.
This was what had been missing with Jonah, she realized. This was what she’d come to Denver to find. Not a father for her child, but a man to complete her as a woman. Knowing it, glorying in it, she went to work at his belt and zipper, then slid one hand into the warm nest within and curled her fingers around his pulsing length, startling a hiss out of him.
He drew back and looked down at her, his eyes dark with passion and wild with need. “Nicole.”
That was all he said, just her name, but it was enough, an acknowledgment that they weren’t strangers this time, weren’t half-drunk and emotional. This time, they would become lovers because they wanted to, because they craved the slap of flesh and the taste of one another and the musk they created together.
Feeling her heart drum in her chest, she squeezed him lightly, intimately. He rolled to his side so they could face each other and kiss while he tugged at her shirt, at her pants, loosening and peeling away layers until she was open to his touch, until her nipples peaked and sensation spun nearly out of control. He kissed her face, her neck, her upper chest as his fingers toyed lightly with her breasts, then traced lower down, to where her open pants allowed access. He dipped his finger beneath the elastic of her panties, then lower, where she felt wet and hot and ready to explode.
Then she was exploding, climaxing from little more than the brush of his fingertip across her exquisitely sensitized flesh.
She cried his name and bowed against him, moaning when he rubbed firmly, prolonging the waves of pleasure that began at that spot and radiated outward, grabbing and letting go in pulsations that seemed to go on forever.
Ethan groaned deep in his chest and shuddered as she came, his hard flesh jerking near to completion, but not quite there, which excited her even more, knowing he was still hard for her, still needing her.
Her pleasure drained but didn’t fade, leveling off, poised on another heart-drumming cliff, one that needed him inside her to take flight.
She opened her eyes and found his face very near hers, his eyes very brown and tinged with a softer emotion than she’d seen before. “Nicole,” he said softly, raising a hand to her face and brushing a feather-light touch across her cheek. “I—”
A faint chime sounded in the room. Ethan froze against her for a split second, then lunged off the couch.
He grabbed the gun off the end table and racked the slide, the deadly click echoing loudly in the room as he crossed it in three quick strides. He stood off to one side of the door as he tapped a sequence on a small keypad, bringing a tiny video monitor to life.
With his untucked shirt hanging open and his pants gaping across his hips, he should have looked vulnerable. Instead, he looked deadly dangerous, and the realization reminded Nic just how little she knew about him.
“Hell.” He exhaled a long breath and slid the safety, then fastened his pants and shoved the gun into his waistband before he glanced at Nic, expression unreadable. “It’s Dr. Eballa.”
“Oh.” Blood running high into her cheeks, Nic stood and turned away to pull her clothing into place, flustered by the chill realization that she’d nearly done it again, nearly chucked caution in favor of sensation. When she turned back to him, she thought she saw the same knowledge in his dark eyes. She exhaled and said, “What is it about us that makes the wrong thing feel so right?”
He grimaced. “I wish I knew.” Then he opened the door and ushered in Dr. Eballa, who was neatly dressed in street clothes with her hair slicked back in a ponytail, but still carried sleep in her eyes. Without breaking stride, he led them across the large main room and up a flight of polished wood stairs to a large bedroom that took up the entire second floor. He clicked on the lights and waved them through. “I’ll be downstairs so you two can have some privacy.”
That left Nic standing just inside his bedroom; it was done in the same greens and browns and polished wood, and was dominated by a huge, neatly made four-poster bed. A door stood open at the far end of the long, narrow space, offering a glimpse of a lavish-looking bathroom. Similar to downstairs, the space was sparsely though tastefully decorated, and almost ruthlessly neat. Up in the bedroom, though, the air held a hint of the man, a faint mix of soap and aftershave, and the solid, masculine flavor of Ethan himself.
In the aftermath of what had happened on the couch, Nic felt beyond awkward at being in his bedroom. She glanced at the doctor. “I’m sorry he dragged you out here. I’m fine.” Her fingers drifted down to her belly, where lingering heat coexisted with her growing child. “We’re fine.”
Which made her wonder whether the pregnancy had jump-started her hormones, or vice versa? With Ethan, it seemed, all bets were off.
The doctor smiled faintly. “I believe you. But let’s take a look, anyway.”
Her exam was quick but thorough, and at the end she nodded. “You’re right. You’re both fine, physically. As for the other stuff…” She tilted her head. “I’m an excellent listener, if you want to talk.”
Nic was a private person, usually keeping to herself even amongst her friends at the school. But the past thirty hours—and the ten weeks preceding—had been anything but usual, and she found herself sinking down to the edge of the bed and dropping her head into her hands. “Where do I start?”
THE EXAM probably only took thirty minutes, but Ethan felt as if he’d spent hours pacing from the kitchen to the video monitor beside the door and back. He could’ve tried to pretend he was on the lookout for danger, but that would’ve been a lie and he tried very hard not to lie to himself. Not anymore.
“That was unfair to her,” he said aloud. “You should learn to keep your lips to yourself.”
Except it wasn’t as though he had a history of indiscretions. Hell, there’d only been a few women since Caro, and they’d all been logical choices, friend-of-a-friend hookups who’d been easy to spend time with and equally easy to walk away from a few dates later with no hard feelings on either side, just two people who didn’t quite fit.
Well, he and Nic didn’t fit either. She was hearth and home and he was…Well, he was what he was. And even if they might’ve been able to do the no-hard-feelings thing—and he had no doubt he would’ve enjoyed spending that time—her pregnancy complicated things all to high hell.
A man just didn’t hook up with a mother-to-be unless he meant it. He just didn’t.
Or rather, Ethan thought, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, in recrimination, he shouldn’t.
Hearing a set of footsteps on the stairs, he straightened away from the front door and crossed the living room to meet Dr. Eballa. “How is she?”
She gave him a long look before she said, “Physically, they’re both fine.” The stress on the word was a subtle condemnation. “Emotionally, Nicole is stressed and strung out, and she could use a little kindness.”
Ethan nodded. “I know.” But as he walked the doctor to her vehicle and reset the security system once she’d pulled away, her words echoed in his head.
He would’ve handled the bodyguard thing differently if Nic had been a client or a friend. He would’ve explained the situation better and tried to make matters easier on her instead of confusing things with personal issues that had no business on a protection detail.
When he returned to the house, he found her sitting on the couch where they’d been groping each
other not an hour earlier. But there was none of that in her expression, which held only determination when she said, “I know I said I wanted us on neutral ground, but that’s stupid, isn’t it? I’m endangering both of us by insisting on being out in the open, and I’m forcing you to waste your energy protecting me when you should be helping the others find Clive Fuentes and figure out how he’s connected to the murders.”
Ethan took a step toward her, then stopped. The hollow, scared look in her eyes made him want to tell her everything was going to be okay, but he never made a promise he wasn’t certain he could keep. Instead, he said, “You’re right, but it’s not your fault. I should’ve insisted on going to the Vault in the first place.”
She firmed her chin and nodded. “We both made the mistake, but we can fix it.” She stood and stalked past him. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Six
Robert’s carry-on felt as though it weighed a ton and his bones ached as he joined the line of passengers waiting to board the flight to Madrid. It wasn’t age dragging him down, or exhaustion, though. It was disappointment, and the knowledge that Evangeline wasn’t willing to forgive him for the things he’d done, wasn’t willing to understand that he’d done them to keep her safe.
When he’d been stuck in hiding, missing her with every fiber of himself, he’d found a measure of contentment, even pride, in the knowledge that he was protecting the woman he loved. She knew he was alive, he’d rationalized. She’d wait for him, and welcome him back with open arms.
And she had. Then she’d stepped back and all but kicked him in the gut, making it into an issue of trust, a marital test that he’d failed.
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