Endgame

by Mia Downing

  “What are you doing?” she whispered, staring at him. “Your lips are moving.”

  “Thanking God.”

  She stiffened, then she relaxed in his arms, settling back against his chest. “Tell Him I said thanks, too.”

  Aaron kissed her forehead, so proud of her, and did just that.

  Epilogue

  Two years later…

  Charlotte Anderson halted the bay mare at the fence and watched her husband limp toward it, trying desperately to hide the pain. She grinned, because Aaron had been bucked off one of the green horses yesterday while showing off. But she loved the struggle, his lean hips swaying to compensate. He was very blond now, getting ready for another film, and she loved how deep blue his eyes looked in the afternoon light.

  He groaned and she hid another grin. That’s what he got for trying to impress Kate and Tia. As if they needed impressing, seeing the second spy flick had been a huge success. They had declared Aaron sex god of the free world and clamored for his attention, despite having sexy, deadly husbands of their own.

  Charlotte took pride in the spy sequel’s box office numbers since she’d been hired to coordinate the spy doings. Her deal had been no listing her name in the end credits. Their deal had been for her not to be on set when Aaron had to do the nasty with his leading lady. She made the bit of fluff nervous, they said. Damn straight she should be nervous. Aaron was hers. But he offered her extra South Pole explorations if she complied. So she did.

  With Aaron’s success came concessions. She didn’t accompany him at all to public events, even though she’d had a bit of plastic surgery to change things up. She kept the blonde hair and blue eyes and looked more like Abigail now than ever, which was okay, since John was dead. Aaron didn’t care, as long as she was safe. He had taken his mom to several awards shows and premieres. His mom loved it, loved having him home now that he had come to grips with his past. He wasn’t ashamed anymore, he said, because his calling had been Charlotte.

  It was strange and nice having everyone here in Texas for a reunion of sorts. Strange, because usually the ranch was quiet, with just Aaron’s mom, Paul, and Charlotte in residence when Aaron was on location somewhere. They still had the house in L.A. but were here most of the time. His mom was lonely and Charlotte needed a mother. It worked well for their needs.

  At the moment, the house was full of her pseudo-siblings for a long weekend reunion of sorts. Kate so bubbly, newly pregnant again with her second, trying to keep up with Alex. Tia was finally pregnant as well, and Jake looked at her with such love as she waddled about.

  Charlotte couldn’t help but feel a little sad and envious. Now that she had Aaron, she could bear to be around kids again. She and Aaron had begun to look into adoption because her maternal clock was chugging full force with all of these pregnant women running rampant. Aaron had said he’d quit acting when they started a family. For once, Charlotte was happy to let things happen.

  She waited for Aaron to approach, feeling a little mean for letting him struggle up to the fence. Yeah, she could have ridden over, but even sex gods needed a little humility now and then.

  He put a booted foot on the bottom rail of the board fence. “Chase has arrived. He and Jake are squabbling about something and need you to settle it. They’re upstairs in our room.”

  Some things never changed. Her boys still loved to squabble. She dismounted and handed Aaron the reins to her horse. “Can you take care of her, then? Or are you too damaged.”

  He flashed his best panty-melting smile. “I want a blowjob for it.”

  “If you can make it back to the house, you will have earned one,” she called over her shoulder, grinning.

  Chase had been held up from the reunion—another imploding mission. But neither Kate nor Jake had looked too worried, so she didn’t worry, either. Now he was here, and her world was complete. Her brothers, her sisters, Aaron. Aaron’s mom.

  She climbed the stairs in the old farmhouse, stairs five strapping Anderson boys had raced up. Aaron’s room was the second on the left. She opened it and stood for just a moment to enjoy the view.

  Chase and Jake were head to head at the foot of the bed, whispering about something. Chase so dark and dangerous yet pale, Jake golden and tanned, both in jeans and polo shirts. They’d changed little in the eight years she’d known them, but Chase smiled easier now and Jake was less impulsive. Both glanced up, and the smiles they flashed were ones of shared devilment.

  “You’re fighting, already?” She grinned at Chase. “Welcome home.”

  “We need a quarter.” Chase still didn’t do greetings.

  “Why?”

  “We need to flip a coin. To decide something.” Jake shot her a “you’re an idiot” look, because why else would they need a quarter?

  “You called me in, off my horse, for a quarter?” She patted her jeans. “I don’t have one.”

  Chase sighed. He did that a lot, even still. “That’s too bad.”

  “Why?”

  Both of them suddenly sobered and went to being totally serious. Which worried her.

  “Because we have collateral damage that needs naming.” Chase stepped to the side and revealed a baby carrier on the bed, an infant tucked inside.

  Charlotte’s heart instantly broke and melted into pieces. Poor thing. The baby slept, making those sucking motions with perfect pink lips. If the child was here, then he or she had lost everything and everyone. But it was the nature of the business, and her boys took care of their collateral damage. She was proof. “Oh, Chase. No. How horrible.”

  He nodded, sadness etched in his face. “Yes. She’s part of the imploding mission. And she needs a new name.”

  “Let me guess.” She glanced from Chase to Jake, remembering this scenario all too well from Brussels. “You each have one, and you can’t decide.”

  “Exactly.” Chase looked relieved that she understood the dilemma. “I want Izzy. Easy to type on paperwork.”

  She raised her brows. What a horrible name. “Short for Isabel?”

  “No, just Izzy.”

  Thank God, Kate was in charge of the names. She cocked her head at Jake. “And you want?”

  “Esmeralda. It’s pretty.”

  Thank God, Tia would name their baby, too. But then, Chase had named Kate, and Charlotte liked her own name just fine. Maybe it was a two out of three success thing. “You can’t name a baby Izzy or Esmeralda. What’s wrong with you two?”

  Jake shrugged. “We asked her what she wanted to be named, and she said, ‘Wah.’ Not a good name for a baby.”

  “No.” Charlotte sighed and smiled just a little, remembering how they had joked about naming her fuck you. She glanced down at the little one. So pretty as she slept. So tragic that she had no one. “So what’s the plan if you don’t have a coin?”

  “You can name her,” Chase offered, his voice tentative.

  “Oh?”

  “Because she needs a mother, and that’s what mothers do. Name kids,” Jake said.

  “Oh.” Charlotte blinked. And then she realized what Jake had said. Her stomach did a flip flop, and her heart did one, too. “You want me to be her mother?”

  They both nodded, so serious, almost anxious. “She needs one,” Jake said. “You don’t have any children, and you want them. Kate’s got her hands full, and Tia will soon. We’re too old to take on another pet all alone and raise it. Though we think we did a great job with you.”

  They were crazy. Both of them. Her hands trembled, tears welling in her eyes as she stared at the slumbering baby.

  “Well?” they asked at the same time. As different as they were, night and day, at times they came together as one. Like at dusk and dawn, her two boys.

  “You want me,” she pointed to herself as terror set in, “to be her mother. I’d make a horrible mother. I’m cold, hard, and mean, with a third degree black belt and excellent marksmanship skills. The Dragon Queen. I don’t do pink.”

  Jake snorted. “You’ll be an e
xcellent mother. You’re all mushy on the inside, Char. Your daughter will be able to defend herself on dates, and you do like purple.”

  “You grow beautiful roses. An evil woman couldn’t grow such delicate flowers,” Chase argued. “And I don’t think you’re the least bit cold, hard, and mean.”

  “Said the devil.” Charlotte shook her head. They had more confidence in her than she did. “What about Aaron?”

  “He can’t be the mother. He’s male,” Chase informed her, as if she were still an idiot. “And he’s a punk.”

  “The punk said yes,” Aaron whispered in her ear, his arms wrapping around her waist. She hadn’t heard him come in, but his embrace steadied her growing panic. She could do anything with her punk by her side. “She comes with little clothes,” he enticed.

  “It’s all about the clothes,” Jake agreed. “But you can’t shoot her if she cries.”

  “I won’t. I promise.” She let the tears fall freely as she stared at the little bundle in the car seat, wanting to pick her up, but not daring. Instead, she wrapped her hands around Aaron’s and leaned against him. Her baby. Her daughter. No, their baby.

  “The clothes will have to get bigger, and you can’t get rid of her for it,” Jake added.

  “Okay.”

  “So…you game?” Chase asked, looking nervous, as if he’d made a huge mistake. “Your own baby, who needs someone to love her, because the world is a horrible place.”

  “Oh, boys. Yes.” She extracted herself from Aaron’s embrace and wrapped an arm around each of them. Jake hard and more muscular, Chase leaner and taller. She loved them both so much. “Yes. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “What are you going to name her?” Aaron asked softly.

  She glanced at Aaron through her tears. He looked so happy, standing there, his hands in his pockets. She knew how badly he wanted a baby of his own, too. “Well? Any suggestions, husband?”

  “Amanda. After my first real girlfriend.”

  She wiped away the tears and laughed as she leaned her head against Jake’s chest. “That makes me jealous, you know.”

  “You’ll get over it. I’ll let you—” Aaron stared nervously at Chase as he realized what he’d almost said. “I’ll let you hug me.”

  “Prick,” Chase muttered, his arm tense around her shoulders. “Seven billion people, Char. You could find another.”

  “I don’t want another, and Aaron, clean up your act. You can’t almost say stuff like that in front of our baby.” She glanced up at Chase and Jake. “Or my brothers. They’ll kick your ass.”

  “Damned straight,” Jake said but laughed.

  She laughed, too, and turned to hug just Chase, not because he was the favorite, but because as the boss, he’d put this all in play. She inhaled. He smelled of summer, man, and baby formula. Her baby’s formula. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed so tight.

  As the tears slid down her cheeks, she realized she hadn’t really ended the game she had in play. So in her mind, she put the old, cobwebbed pieces away, in the dusty box, and then slid it away, forever.

  Chase just gave her the last piece for her new game. A game she wanted to play so badly, wanted to savor, wanted to grow old over, with Aaron and their child. She would train for this game and would die for it, hopefully old and gray in Aaron’s arms.

  She whispered against Chase’s chest, “Thank you. I love you so much.”

  Chase kissed her hair, her forehead. “Good end to the game, sweetheart?”

  “What are you talking about?” She smiled at Aaron, then back up at Chase. “The game has just begun.”

  About the Author

  Mia Downing started creating heroes at age four, but her heroes then rode ponies to rescue the princess, and only kissed her on the cheek. Today, Mia's heroes still rescue those in need, but the price of their toys and the expertise of their seduction leads to a lot more than a peck on the cheek. When Mia isn't busy creating new stories for her readers she fills in as an underwear model for a prestigious lingerie company. She also lives in CT with her family, and enjoys horses and knitting.

  Visit Mia at

  www.miadowning.blogspot.com

  www.facebook.com/MiaDowningAuthor

  To chat with Mia Downing and other Wild Rose Press authors of erotic romance, join us at www.groups.yahoo.com/group/thewilderroses.

  Also Available

  Out Of Control

  By Desiree Holt

  Spy Games: Trained For Seduction

  By Mia Downing

  Emma Walters didn't choose to be a spy, but when her crazy father was caught selling bombs to the wrong people, she was given a choice—become a spy or rot in jail. Her exciting new life as agent Kate Wells becomes more so when she discovers her new boss is the agent—undercover and investigating her father at the time—who took her to third base. Emma is already half in love with the dark and dangerous Chase Sanders. Kate wants nothing more than for him to finish what he started, but he's the devil incarnate. And one doesn't make deals or fall in love with the devil.

  If someone had told Chase he'd fall in love with a certain virgin when he was on his last mission, he would have shot them dead, sniper style. She was nothing more than collateral damage, damn it. But watching the sexy new spy morph into a bombshell killing machine is too much to bear. So when the powers that be command him to train her in the art of seduction for her first—and possibly last—mission, he's scared witless. Making love to Kate means preparing her for sex with another man.

  Somehow, Chase has to find a way to get Kate in—and out—of her mission without dying. And without falling in love.

  Turn the page to read an excerpt.

  Chapter One

  Emma Walters leaned against the bed in Alexander Bishop’s room and waited impatiently. Her father had woken her with an insistent phone call that had sent her here, to his room, to wait for his new business associate’s return. She had no clue why, and she didn’t dare ask. So she waited as expected, even though it was two in the morning.

  Her father, in so many words, was crazy, and he scared the wits out of her. As a genius scientist, his work in the lab was ground-breaking and awe-inspiring, and she was just shy of worshipping that side of the man. But outside the lab he was fractious, obsessive compulsive and downright mean, even to his only child. She would bet good money he was schizophrenic, too, but he’d refused medical help. So it was she, alone, with her father and his demons.

  The door opened and Alexander entered, looking slightly unkempt for his usual pristinely suited self. His coat had been abandoned, his shirt untucked, his tie nowhere to be seen. His dark hair was long enough to just brush his collar in the back and had just a touch of gray at the temples.

  She liked the way his right cheek dimpled when he smiled, finally seeing her leaning against the foot of his bed. She thought the dark stubble on his jaw looked dark, dangerous—almost as dangerous as the glitter in his deep brown eyes. She swallowed and nervously tugged at the neck of her robe, the sexual appeal he radiated far too strong for her.

  “Can I help you?” His voice was deep, soft, sensual, and accented in a way she couldn’t place—European, maybe?

  “My father sent me.”

  “You’re Emma.”

  “Yes.” Her fingers clenched the bar at the foot of his bed as he drew near, his light, citrusy cologne tickling her nose as he bent to grab something off the floor right at her side—his tie. He smelled delicious, and she wanted to bury her face in his neck and just inhale him forever.

  “And you want?” He tossed his tie to a chair and crossed his arms over his muscled chest, the emotion in his eyes unreadable.

  What would it be like to have a man like this, waiting for her every night? She licked her lips, assessing the width of his shoulders, then tilting her head again to look at him. He was probably six-one, not much taller than her five-nine, but he felt oh-so-much bigger, larger than life.

  “I don’t know.” She swallowed again. It was
hard to tell how old he was. He didn’t look that old, but the gray definitely made her think older than appropriate. But that didn’t seem to matter to her libido. Her skin tingled with awareness, and areas of her that a man had never touched were definitely singing to their own tune. If he decided to kiss her, her mind might protest, but her body would be more than happy to accommodate whatever he wanted.

  “Me, perhaps?”

  Her entire being screamed, yes! But her mind warned her away from him—way too dangerous. Way too sexy. He wasn’t a ticket out of her father’s prison. He was a business associate, and probably had a family of his own somewhere, just like the others, while she was trapped here, bound to the lab for all of eternity. Not that she minded the lab. Science was her calling, her life. But if she could just get her father to set her free, to see she wouldn’t run with his secrets…

  “Earth to Emma.” He stepped between her legs, his lean form radiating way too much sexual energy. He pulled her to her feet and she found herself square against his chest. She closed her eyes, absorbing the heat, her breasts tingling at the contact. Then he lifted her chin and lowered his mouth to hers.

  His kiss wasn’t something she expected, but sure as hell enjoyed. His mouth slanted over hers, his lips firm. He opened his mouth slightly and coaxed her to do the same with the tip of his tongue. Who was she to not do as she was told? She tentatively touched her tongue to his and was rewarded with a jolt of pleasure that raced down her spine straight to her belly. He groaned appreciatively, the sound vibrating in her mouth. He deepened the kiss, his mouth firmer, more demanding, his tongue showing hers where to move, how to tangle with his.

  Unsure what to do with her hands, she brought them up and rested them on his chest, his muscles firm, hot under her hands. She leaned into him a bit and let her hands roam, sliding upward to cup the back of his head, her fingers exploring the longer hair at his nape.

  His hand left her chin to trail down her throat, untying her robe to run along the opening of her nightgown. His fingers unbuttoned first one, then two buttons and then slid into the opening, ticking the swell of her breast. She arched against his hand, giving him permission, and his hand then cradled almost reverently, and kneaded the flesh.