WOULD-BE CHRISTMAS WEDDING

by Debra Webb

  He was rubbing his lips, remembering the moment, when a soft rap on the door drew his attention. He crossed the room, peered through the peephole and saw two brunettes in the stylish conservative attire that marked all of her friends. He felt underdressed in the faded jeans and black polo shirt he’d pulled on after his shower, but he opened the door anyway.

  “Oh.” The bright smiles faded as both women gaped at him. “We must, ah...”

  “Looking for Cecelia?”

  “Yes,” they replied in unison, obviously relieved and startled at the same time.

  “Names?”

  They frowned, but gave him the information. Recognizing the names from the list of expected visitors Cecelia had given him, he stepped back and invited them inside.

  “I’m with hotel security,” he lied. “I’ll let her know you’re here.”

  He walked away before they could ask him why she needed security in her room, but his excellent hearing caught the murmurs of appreciation and speculation that he was the same guy spotted with Cecelia last night.

  Great.

  Last night’s stunt at the marina had clearly made Cecelia grist for the gossip mill. It was all he could do not to remind these two they were supposed to be her friends.

  He kept his mouth shut. If Cecelia moved into ops, she’d have to deal with twisted perceptions as a natural part of getting through the day.

  Holt paused at the bathroom door, his train of thought completely derailed at the sight of Cecelia wrapped only a bath towel.

  Other women he’d spent time with in close proximity had done their hair last. Not her.

  Catching his reflection in the mirror, she turned off the hair dryer. “Problem?”

  His temper flared in an automatic defense against the rush of lust coursing through his body. “There’s a perfectly good robe right here,” he growled, pulling it off the hook and tossing it at her. “You’ve got company.”

  She smiled at him, her polite “life is lovely” smile. “I’ll be right out.”

  He turned, uncertain of how to escape. He didn’t want to chat with the Junior League twins in the other room and he couldn’t stand here staring as Cecelia put on something more appropriate.

  He bit back an oath and crossed to the window in the bedroom, positioning himself so she had privacy. Maybe he’d get lucky and a sniper would put him out of his misery.

  The suite door opened and closed, the feminine voices rose and fell and then Cecelia returned to the bedroom. He didn’t have to look—the light floral scent of her body wash drifted across the room and teased his senses.

  “You can turn around. I’m dressed and they’re gone.”

  He turned, but it was a mistake. The cream colored, body-skimming top with spaghetti-thin straps and jeans that molded to her hips and thighs were almost more tempting than the towel had been.

  A vivid image of him sliding those straps down and away played out in his head before he yanked his gaze back up to her eyes. “We have work to do.”

  “I’m ready.” She pulled on a thick cardigan sweater and walked back out to the sitting room. He enjoyed the sweet view of her backside, then had to wait a moment until he was sure he had his wayward lust under control.

  He couldn’t let this attraction interfere with what had to be done here.

  As he joined her in the other room she announced, “We have an hour or so before Casey stops by.”

  “Awesome.” He picked up his laptop and set it on the low coffee table in front of the couch. “Isely wanted to kidnap you last night,” he began without preamble. “We need to dig in and find out why he changed his schedule.”

  “Changed?”

  “Yeah. The original plan was to take you from the gala tonight. Bigger shock value,” he pointed out.

  “So should I assume he’ll make another attempt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” She picked up her tablet. “What do you want me to do?”

  “When they grab you, don’t panic.”

  She tilted her head, laced her fingers and pushed her hands forward like a pianist limbering up before a recital. “Okay. I meant what do you want me to do now? Can I research the location in that text message?”

  “Go ahead.” Inspiration struck. “See if you can connect the location to the name of the ship.”

  “If the yacht is the Irina we’re after.”

  “Exactly.”

  Reluctantly, he sat beside her and started his own search for the possible catalysts that might have Isely looking at Cecelia.

  After a few comfortable minutes of silence, she said, “I think we’re after the yacht. Those numbers come up as a location in the Atlantic Ocean, not too far off the coast.”

  Holt mentally cringed. That kind of “address” didn’t bode well for Cecelia or Thomas’s chances of rescuing her. Isely knew Holt could sail, and an exchange at sea likely meant Isely had found Holt’s boat in the marina.

  Not good. Even worse was that the location hadn’t been sent to Holt, only to one of Isely’s most trusted men. Holt started searching slip registrations for rentals matching the original operation timeline.

  “Are you hacking into the marina?” Cecelia was looking over his shoulder. “You promised to show me your process.”

  Not exactly, but there was no use getting into a debate. “If he means to sail into the sunset with you, we need to be prepared.”

  “Do you like working with my brother?”

  The question came out of nowhere. She was constantly surprising him with her accurate assessments, even when her mind seemed to be elsewhere. Director Casey was the kind of boss who had a man’s back. It was the one piece of this task that regularly pricked at Holt’s conscience. Thomas Casey didn’t see eye to eye with Holt, and that was never going to change. This mission would be the final straw for Holt. Win or lose—and Mission Recovery would win—he’d started to realize no one would ever trust him again.

  Even if he came away from this clean, without that trust he could never take over for Director Casey as planned. He’d known this was a career-ending op but hadn’t bothered to dwell on it. Had in fact been in active denial about it as recently as yesterday when he’d tasked Grant with finding the biologist.

  “Emmett?”

  “Your brother is a good man and a good boss. I’ve got nothing but respect for him.”

  “You’re doing this—and planning to take the fall—to protect him.”

  He turned on her to let her see the dark edges he hid behind layers of polish and training. “I’m doing this because it needs to be done. Isely has a deadly new bioweapon and he blames your brother for the death of his father and undermining their business reputation. I’m doing what I have to do.”

  “He certainly seems to be paying plenty of people to come after me.”

  “That’s what bothers me,” Holt admitted. “The original plan was simple. Just me, you and a drop-off point.”

  “Hmm.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that hmm. He tried to ignore it, to finish the trail of breadcrumbs that would help Director Casey save Cecelia in case things went sideways on him tonight.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Just wondering what you made him believe about you.”

  He sighed, closed the top on his computer. “Why do you care?”

  “You promised to teach me something. How did you convince him you could be bought?”

  “Why do you think it’s as simple as money?”

  “Because you donated a substantial amount of money to my charity. I suspect that was because you didn’t want any part of the money he had paid you.”

  He stood up and paced away from her. “Nothing better to dump it into.”

  “Maybe not, but I think it’s more likely you en
joyed putting his blood money to good use.”

  How in the hell did she see him so clearly? “The donation put me in your circle.” He waved his hands to indicate the suite. “What better way to enable Isely’s vengeance?”

  “Hmm.”

  “Stop that,” he snapped.

  “What?” She gave an exaggerated flutter of her eyelashes.

  “Isely has to believe you’re oblivious.” He’d convinced jaded, field-tested operatives on both sides of the law, but he couldn’t fool this one woman. “Lives are on the line here, Cecelia.”

  “I understand.” She set aside her tablet and walked straight up to him. “More than you, I think.”

  Nothing short of a major earthquake could have uprooted him as she wrapped him in a hug. A hug, for crying out loud. He didn’t know where to put his hands, so he kept them off her.

  “Thank you,” she said, “for everything you’ve sacrificed to protect Thomas.” Her heart was shining in her eyes as she gazed up at him. “Casey’s wedding day would have been ruined without Thomas.”

  “He got himself out of that. I had nothing to do with it.”

  With one last squeeze, she stepped back, and her lips curved into a warm, sincere smile. “I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s the truth.” He rubbed at his mouth, told himself to shut up. “I’m not the white knight from a fairy tale.” But she made him want to be, and he hated himself for the failure.

  The thought was so foreign, so unprecedented, he actually didn’t know what to say next.

  She slid into the chair, crossed her legs and drummed her fingers against the upholstery. “Oh, no, you’re definitely bad-guy material. At least that’s what you want me to believe.”

  “It’s more true than you know.”

  “If you say so.” She shrugged one delicate shoulder and blew him off.

  “God, you’re stubborn.”

  “I am. It comes in handy.” She reached over and patted the couch. “Now, come on and show me something useful before we get interrupted again. I’m not letting you renege.”

  “A bad guy would renege,” he pointed out.

  “I’m sure you’re right.”

  She was going into ops, and from what he’d heard through the bugs he’d planted in her house, no one close to her supported the decision.

  Sure, they’d had more years with her, knew her far better than he did. Apparently that blurred their vision, or maybe they just didn’t realize how strong she had to be to do what she’d been doing all these years: waiting and praying that a loved one in harm’s way would come home safe.

  From where he stood, Cecelia Manning was smart, brave and determined. Possibly too determined, he amended as she continued to stare him down. The CIA would be lucky to have her in an operations capacity.

  He pulled up one of the fake files he’d given Isely and a picture he’d previously sent to use as an example. Side by side from his laptop to hers, he taught her the basics of how he manipulated the intel. She was a quick study, using the tips he showed her to embed information in photographs, to transfer files away from the home system and to leave breadcrumbs that pointed in another direction.

  “Emmett?” She waited for him to glance at her screen. “How does this look?” She tucked her hands under her legs as if she feared he would see them tremble as he reviewed her first effort at concealing information in a digital photo.

  He reviewed her coding, then asked her to show him the research she’d found on the Irina. “Thomas is an idiot.”

  * * *

  CECELIA’S FINGERS WENT still on the keyboard. As a little sister perpetually in her brother’s shadow, it wasn’t that she didn’t have cause to agree, but she wanted to be sure why this man thought so. “Do I need to defend my brother?”

  “I bugged your house, remember? I heard that crack he made about not recruiting you.”

  “Familiarity breeds contempt,” she said lightly. She’d had a lifetime to get used to it. “It would be more accurate to say he’s averse to change. I’m the baby sister and I’ve been a predictable and known quantity in his life since I was born. He can’t help wanting to keep me in that box.”

  “I have a feeling your current situation will blow the lid right off that box,” he said.

  “Agreed.” She switched to another window so he could check that code, as well. “Did I do this one right?”

  “Nice work.”

  She wanted to celebrate but decided to save it for private. “Thanks.”

  “You’ll make a good partner one day.”

  “Not that you ever use them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was thinking of last night and the possible break-in at my house. You were with me, and you appear to be working this operation alone. Or you were. Who else would have cause to search my home?”

  His cool eyes went flat and she knew he shared her concern. “I’ve wanted to ask you about that and about your work. It’s possible Isely thinks you know something or can access something valuable.”

  “I don’t know anything of value to a man like him. Unless he’s in the market for a human-resources lackey.”

  “You’re no lackey,” he grumbled.

  She appreciated the vote of confidence, especially from this unexpected source. “I’ll do a little research—”

  “No. Leave that to me. I have more free time than you do today.”

  She glanced at her watch. “Casey and the girls will be here soon. We have appointments with the hotel spa before it’s time to dress for the evening.”

  “Tell me I don’t have to go along.”

  His stricken expression made her laugh. “Relax, no one’s going to tie you down and force you to have a mani-pedi.”

  “I don’t want to know what that is.”

  “Such a bachelor,” she teased.

  “Always.” He packed up his computer. “If you promise not to leave the hotel, there are a few things I should see to in person.”

  “Isely?”

  “Best to keep a volatile client calm.”

  As if he read her worry before she could say a word, he traced the curve of her shoulder with his fingertip, instantly distracting her. “I’ll come back up to dress when you’ve all cleared out.”

  “But you will be there tonight?” The thought of never seeing him again slashed through her, made her ache.

  He nodded.

  “Say the words, Emmett. Tell me you’ll be at the gala as my guest, not just because Isely wants you to be there.” She hadn’t meant to say that last part, but there it was.

  “I’ll be there for you.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, weak with relief.

  A new awareness arced between them. For her it came from having an expert field agent take her seriously as much as her growing affection for a man determined to stand apart from the world...and to keep her safe in the process.

  He wasn’t the only one who knew his way around and through computer systems. At his side, she’d done almost as much digging as learning today, and discovered his past—at least those days before he went behind the technological curtain of Mission Recovery—was full of white-knight behavior.

  Since June he’d systematically alienated each of his allies, but thanks to what he’d taught her, she knew he was doing all the wrong things for all the right reasons.

  She understood she might very well be interpreting his actions favorably on purpose, but she didn’t care. Intuition told her that white knight had been buried deep, for a long time, as a matter of survival.

  “Give me your phone.”

  She found it on the table and handed it to him. He entered something and handed it back. “Keep it on and keep it with you. As long as Casey stays close, he won’t make a move. I’m
speed-dial one if anything happens. Just call and leave the line open.”

  “And if you need me?”

  His smile sent butterflies winging through her belly. “You’ll know.”

  “Emmett, whatever happens tonight, please know that I trust you.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “Sweetheart, you really shouldn’t.”

  Chapter Eleven

  She had to admire his timing. Emmett had cleared the suite minutes before Casey had knocked on the door. They caught up on family and simple things, but serious talk had to wait as her friends arrived to help shuttle things downstairs.

  They’d just returned from setting up the gift table when the suite phone rang and Cecelia cringed as Casey picked it up. What if it was Emmett? Would her daughter disapprove of her social life as much as she disapproved of her new career goals? Would she call Thomas and give away Emmett’s location?

  “Sure, she’s right here.” Casey covered the receiver with her palm. “A detective for you.”

  “Jerry?”

  Casey shook her head as Cecelia took the phone and introduced herself.

  “Ah, Mrs. Manning. If you could come down to the hotel café, please. We just need another moment of your time.”

  “We’re terribly busy. I gave my statement to Detective Gadsden last night. Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”

  “I’m afraid not. We have suspects in holding, but I can’t keep them there without cause. I just need you to take a look at a few photos.”

  “Of course. I’ll be right down.”

  She knew there was more to it. Detective Gadsden should have been asking her these questions. The voice wasn’t quite right, either, but she refused to cower again. She’d be safe enough in the café with her daughter beside her.

  “I have to go downstairs for a moment and look at a couple of pictures. Apparently they have some suspects in last night’s trouble. Will you come with me?”