“Sounds like the dance has started,” Kane commented in a tone that sounded exactly like pleasant anticipation. Damn, he was good. My heart was pounding so hard after the sudden appearance of the guards, I couldn’t have trusted my voice.
He smiled down at me and drew me toward the house. “Let’s go in and dance.”
“Dance? As in ballroom dance? Houston, we have a problem,” I whispered.
He stopped. “What?”
I shot a glance in the direction of the guest house, gratefully noting the guards had vanished. “The only ballroom dance I know is a waltz,” I hissed. “A poor excuse for a waltz. I haven’t done it in years. And I always try to lead.”
“Wasn’t that part of your briefing?”
“No!”
Kane must have seen my consternation, because his face softened. “Okay. Don’t worry. We’ll do a quick rehearsal out here. Then we’ll go in, make an appearance, and find some pretext to leave quickly.”
Right on cue, the music’s rhythm changed, and he held out his arms. I stepped toward him uncertainly, and he placed my hand on his shoulder and began a smooth waltz. I could tell right away he was an expert dancer, and it made me even more self-conscious. Trying not to move my lips, I counted “one, two, three, one, two three,” under my breath and stiffly followed as best I could.
Sure enough, I tried to go one way while he went the other, and he chuckled and leaned down to my ear. “Relax. You’re not facing a firing squad.”
“That would be easier. I wouldn’t have to worry about being dressed up and making polite conversation.”
“You don’t really hate it that much, do you?”
I made a face. “No. I hate it much, much more than that.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Do you have any idea how contrary to my nature parties like this are? I hate crowds, I hate making small talk with strangers, and I hate dressing up. I have to remember to keep my knees together, keep my mind out of the gutter, and not swear. And I have to pretend to enjoy myself while I do it. All I want to do is go home, put on my jeans, and swill beer.”
He searched my face. “But you make it look so easy. You laugh and chat and draw people out. I heard you converse about everything under the sun tonight. Everybody warmed up to you.”
“Just because you’re good at something doesn’t mean you enjoy doing it.”
“True. But it usually helps.”
“I’m good at fixing toilets, too, but I wouldn’t be sorry if I never had to fix another.”
He laughed. “I see your point. What’s the latest toilet-related problem? Last time I saw it, you had a gaping hole in your floor.”
“Oh, that’s all fixed now. My latest escapade has been trying to fish a broken valve chain out of the tank and reattach it without completely demolishing the counter that goes over top of it.”
“You know how to have a good time.”
“I’m just a party animal.”
The music changed, and he released me. “See, you were fine once you relaxed.”
I looked up at him sheepishly. “You tricked me.”
“Yes.” He grinned. “Let’s go inside and make our appearance.”
“Only if you let me whine and bitch the whole time. Otherwise I’ll stiffen up again.”
I cranked another pleasant smile onto my face, and we went arm-in-arm into the house. Back in the salon, ties were loosened and the general atmosphere was relaxed thanks to copious amounts of free booze.
I leaned close to Kane. “Keep me away from the bar. Otherwise I’m going to go over there and chug-a-lug a pint.”
He laughed, expertly snagging a glass of white wine from a passing tray. He handed it to me with a small bow and a wicked look. “For the elegant lady.”
I successfully resisted the urge to blow him a raspberry, and accepted the glass. I sipped while we circulated, chatting with a few more people. When the music changed to a waltz again, Kane gently removed the glass from my hand and placed it on a nearby table, drawing me to the dance floor. As we stepped onto it, he leaned down to my ear. “What did you think of that sorbet at supper?”
I beamed up at him. “It was fabulous. Everything was so delicious. That lobster bisque was just like velvet. And that ravioli. The cream sauce was amazing. And the dessert…” He swung me smoothly around, the sexy laugh lines crinkling around his eyes. My mouth fell open. “You did it again.”
He chuckled and pulled me closer. “Keep dancing. And talk to me.”
By the time we’d danced a couple more times, I was relaxed enough to enjoy it. Kane was a superb dancer, his normally athletic movements translating to smooth grace on the dance floor. I was slowly learning to sense where and how he wanted me to move, paying attention to the subtle pressure of his hands. I began to understand why people took up ballroom dancing as a hobby. It was almost as much fun as basketball. And I got to snuggle up to a hot guy. Hello.
Unfortunately, waltzes were few and far between, and we spent the intervening time trying to make conversation with the increasingly inebriated guests. Finally, I widened my eyes at Kane, and he nodded subtly.
When the next waltz started, he led me onto the floor again. We swung into motion, but as the dance progressed, his body language changed. He held me closer, his hands more demanding as he gazed into my eyes. By the end of the dance, our bodies were so close that his thigh was nearly between my legs. He held my hand clasped against his chest as we left the dance floor and guided me toward the lobby, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist.
When we reached the doorway of the salon, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me passionately. I stiffened in shock, and he moved his lips to my ear. “Sorry. Just go with it. Please.”
Hell, he was preaching to the choir. This evening was finally starting to improve. I slid my hands under his suit coat, exploring the hot, solid muscles of his back and shoulders, and pressed the length of my body against him to kiss him back with enthusiasm.
A couple of steamy kisses later, I was beginning to wonder if my knees would hold me when he pulled away slightly and towed me out of the house and toward the parking lot.
He stole kisses while we stumbled down the pathway, holding each other close all the way. Even though my brain knew this was just a cover, nobody had informed my body. By the time we got to the valet’s station at the cul-de-sac, I was ready to combust.
Kane shoved the key tag and a fifty at the valet, clasping me tightly. “There’s another fifty in it for you if you get that car up here in thirty seconds or less,” he told the valet, his eyes never leaving my face.
The young man’s face lit up. “Yes, sir!” he exclaimed, and rushed off into the darkness.
Kane pulled me into another long, hungry kiss, his hands hot against the bare skin of my back. When Harchman had ground into me earlier, I’d felt as though I’d throw up. Now I thought that if Kane did the same thing, I’d probably have an orgasm on the spot. That seemed like an excellent idea. I pressed my hips against him, making slow circles.
Either he was packing a long-barrelled pistol in his pocket, or he was enjoying this as much as I was. Since I happened to know he carried a Sig Sauer 226R, I was reasonably convinced it was the latter. It pays to know your weapons. And your firearms, too.
I gasped and clutched at him when his teeth closed gently on my earlobe, and then groaned in frustration when the Audi squealed to a halt beside us and the valet hopped out.
Kane handed the kid another fifty and turned to open the car door for me. I slid in, making no attempt to control my skirt. It slipped up almost to my crotch, and Kane froze at the sight of the lace tops of my stockings and the bare thigh above them.
“What have you got on under there?” he asked hoarsely.
I let my head loll back on the headrest as I glided my fingers up past the stockings and brushed the edge of the skirt back to reveal some more naked leg.
“Why don’t you take me home and find out?” I purred, min
dful of the valet’s gawking. The kid’s face changed to a knowing leer as Kane closed the door and strode hastily around to the driver’s side.
He swung in, slammed the car into gear, and peeled out of the cul-de-sac. When we approached the gatehouse, his hand drifted over to my knee, gliding up to my thigh as the guard approached the car.
Ha. Two could play that game. I reached over and ran my fingernails slowly up the inner seam of his pants. I stopped just short of ground zero as the guard peered in, smirking. He nodded to his counterpart in the gatehouse, and the gates swung open.
Kane hammered on the gas and we laid rubber out the driveway, the car snarling with unleashed power. As we slid onto the highway in a four-wheel drift, I let out a whoop of sheer delight.
Chapter 12
I laughed out loud as the Audi accelerated hard on the dark highway, pressing me back in the luxurious leather seat. Kane had both hands on the wheel now, and I reluctantly removed my own from his thigh.
I sat silently for a few moments, trying to calm down. Then euphoria bubbled up in me again, and I gave an enthusiastic fist pump. “Yes!”
Kane’s smile gleamed in the dashboard lights as he glanced over at me, slowing the car to the speed limit. “What?”
“What do you mean, what?” I crowed. “The night is over. I can take off these damn clothes. We found the network. We scoped the buildings. We’re both unscathed. I don’t think anybody recognized me. And I love this car! I win! Yes!”
He laughed. “Sounds like a win to me.”
I sat beaming for a few more minutes, feeling the tension ebbing from my body. I didn’t want to admit even to myself how frightened I’d been. I eased back in the seat, letting out a heartfelt sigh and sobering when I realized this had really only been the first step.
Next step: ignore my incredibly horny body and focus on the mission.
“Do you have anything to write on?” I asked. “I’ve got a pile of information in my head, and I want to get it on paper before I start to lose it.”
He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “My briefcase is behind the seat.”
I stretched over to reach behind his seat and came up with a handsome leather portfolio containing a pad of paper. “Can I use this?”
At his nod of assent, I took out my pen, peering at the page in the dim light from the dash. Kane reached over and turned on the interior dome light, and I squinted at him in the sudden brightness. “Can you still see to drive?”
He nodded, so I began to sketch what I could remember of the house plan, noting security camera positions and the places where I remembered seeing staff members. I roughly blocked in the position of the server room. Too bad I hadn’t seen the complete floor plans before entering the house. An oversight like that was unlike Kane, and I reflected that he must have been even more tired than I’d realized.
As if to confirm my surmise, he yawned hugely, scrubbing his hand over his face. I glanced over at him in sudden concern. “Do you want me to drive?”
He drove for a few more seconds and then sighed and pulled over, rubbing his eyes. “I’m secure in my manhood. Go for it.” He shot me a sly look. “I know you’re dying to anyway.”
I showed him my teeth. “Out.”
We swapped sides, and I kicked off my shoes and pulled the driver’s seat forward, tucking my skirt between my legs so I could operate the pedals with some degree of comfort and modesty. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Kane grinning as I accelerated with a rapturous “Oh, yeah!”
A few minutes later, he laid his head back and his face relaxed into sleep. Touched by his trust, I got on with the enjoyable business of driving. Too bad we were only half an hour away from Calgary.
I spent the intervening time trying to explain to my body that there was a difference between cover stories and real life, and that we weren’t going to be getting laid tonight. Or any time soon, for that matter.
Apparently I wasn’t persuasive. By the time we reached the city limits, the score was logic, zero; lust about a zillion.
Pulling up at the curb near Kane’s condo, I spoke his name. He sat up, immediately alert.
“Where should I park?” I asked.
His brows drew together, puzzled. “No need to park here. I’ll drop you off at your hotel.”
“Later,” I agreed. “I’m sorry, I know you’re tired, but I really need to see those floor plans tonight while everything is still fresh in my mind. If you want, I can just take them with me and work on them at the hotel.”
“Right. You’ll have to come up, then. I’m responsible for the plans, so I can’t lend them out.”
I considered a raunchy comment about an invitation to come up and see his floor plans, but he was back to his usual air of calm professionalism. I wondered how he could just turn it on and off like that. Maybe it came with his training. I could use some of that.
I followed his directions and parked the car in the slot he indicated. He got out and came around to the driver’s side to open the door for me.
An unreadable expression crossed his face. Caught in the act, I finished peeling off one stocking, and hooked my thumbs under the top of the other. “I’m just taking my stockings off. I’m not putting these shoes back on, and I don’t want to tear the nylons walking across the parking lot,” I explained.
“All right.” He straightened and waited, looking away. I shoved the balled-up stockings into my shoes and grabbed my purse. Pulling the slippery skirt down between my legs, I swung out of the car. Such a relief to not have to keep my knees together.
Kane maintained his silence while I padded barefoot across the pavement beside him. During the evening, I’d grown accustomed to the extra height of the heels, and he seemed very tall when I gazed up at him questioningly. “So what’s the next step?”
“Next step,” he repeated. “Brain dump. Sleep. After that, we’ll figure out our strategy.”
He keyed open the exterior door, and we climbed two flights of stairs to the third floor. Unlocking his door, he flipped the lights on and ushered me in. I eyeballed the place, trying to conceal my curiosity.
The colour scheme was taupe and dark wood, the walls a warm neutral hue. Recessed pot lights created pools and washes of light. The main area was sparsely furnished with a clean-lined black leather sofa and chair and an expensive-looking stereo system. There was a small TV in the corner, but it looked as though it had been placed as an afterthought. Instead, the furniture arrangement focused on a stone fireplace.
One picture in a folding frame was propped on the mantel, but the walls were otherwise completely barren. In the empty space that would normally accommodate a dining table, a large punching bag hung suspended by chains from the ceiling. A weight bench and weights occupied the rest of the living room.
The only softness in the room was a crocheted afghan folded casually over the back of the sofa. I walked over to examine the blanket, smiling at the artistry of its muted colours. The design and colour blocking were masculine and contemporary.
I looked up so he could see my smile. “Arnie?” I asked.
He nodded, grinning. “When I got shot a couple of years ago, I couldn’t do much for the first while. He spent a lot of time over here babysitting me. When he wasn’t playing his guitar, he was working on this. Said it kept his fingers nimble.”
I laughed. “It must work. I’ve seen those fingers in action.”
He considered that with a half-smile, but apparently decided not to pursue it. “I’ll go and get the plans,” he said, and vanished down the hallway.
I wandered over to examine the photo on the mantel. A jaunty young man smiled out of the picture, his longish dark hair mussed. He wore a grass-stained T-shirt, and a football was tucked under his arm. His square face and grey eyes at first made me think I was looking at a photo of Kane himself, minus twenty years or so, but the bones were a little finer, the features more regular. I considered Kane’s strong face striking. The young man in the photo was unarguably handsome.
I turned as Kane returned with rolls of drawings under his arm. “Who’s this in the picture?” I asked. “He looks a lot like you.”
His face softened into a smile. “My younger brother, Daniel.”
“This picture has been around for a while, then.”
He nodded slowly. “That was taken in the ‘80’s. He died a few weeks later.”
A hollow opened in my chest. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry. What happened?”
Kane’s shoulders straightened. “He saved a young woman who was being attacked by a mugger. He was stabbed.”
I turned again to look at the youthful face in the picture, trying to control the burning behind my eyes. “How old was he?”
“Twenty-three.”
“What a waste,” I whispered.
Kane’s voice was steady behind me. “No. Not a waste. That young woman lived to get married and have a family. The daughter just graduated from university with a degree in music. She’s an incredibly talented pianist. The son is married with a baby on the way. Never believe that Daniel’s life was wasted.”
I took a deep breath, composing myself before I turned back to him. “You kept in touch with the woman?”
“No. I only met her once. She came to Daniel’s funeral. But I… check up on them every now and then. I think of them as Daniel’s family.” He shrugged. “Mine, by extension, I guess. I just like to know that life goes on.”
“Whether you want it to or not,” I agreed quietly. “I guess I understand why you went into law enforcement after you left the army.”
He shrugged again, nodding. “Let’s have a look at these drawings.”
He spread them out on the counter that separated the kitchen from the open living space. I picked up my sketches and carried them over to compare.
“Can I write on these?” I asked.
“Yes. They’re copies.”
We perched on stools and started to mark up the drawings. I worked on the main house, while Kane filled in details on the rest of the buildings, noting security cameras, lines of sight, and positions of security staff.
The Spy Is Cast Page 8