Blake (Lighthouse Security Investigations Book 5)

by Maryann Jordan

  He had provided security services over the last several years with LSI and was trained to focus entirely on the environment and possible threat, not the actual event taking place. But in this case, Stanley Cooper had no threats against him personally, nor did the summit. Cooper simply preferred to not travel and was terrified of being in a different country.

  Therefore, the trip had been exceedingly, agonizingly, ultimately uneventful. While they stayed in one of the nicest hotels, the Grand Hotel Montabo in the capital city of Cayenne where the summit was taking place, Stanley only wanted to go between the university and hotel. He also only wanted to eat at the hotel. No excursions. No shopping. No tourist activities. No swimming or lounging on the beach. His fear of gangs, pickpockets, murderers, and unknown bacteria in the water kept him from doing anything.

  “There’re so many foreigners here, how can you ever tell who’s real?” Stanley had complained.

  The first time Blake heard that comment from Stanley was on the way from the airport to the hotel. He swung his head around and stared at the other man, blinking in disbelief. “You do realize that in this country, you’re the foreigner?”

  Stanley had waved his hand around dismissively. “You know what I mean.”

  Blake had no clue what Stanley meant, and honestly, he did not want to. As far as Blake was concerned, from that moment on, Stanley was nothing more than a mission, one to protect from a threat that was not there.

  And while this made Blake’s job much easier, it also meant that it was tedious. He had to admit that he had had a pre-conceived notion of what Stanley would look like—total nerd—but he was wrong. Stanley was tall, had thick, blond hair that was only slightly grey at the temples, and dressed business-casual in khaki pants paired with a white shirt. He had a habit of pushing his glasses above his eyes, resting them on his forehead, which Blake thought gave him a four-eyed, insect-like appearance, but was the least annoying habit Stanley exhibited.

  Moving slightly to the left, his gaze searched the balcony above, still looking for the redheaded translator. The first time he had caught a glimpse of the beautiful translator in the room above, he could have sworn she looked straight at him and smiled, a blush touching her cheeks. Before he had a chance to smile in return, her gaze moved back to the speakers.

  He had wanted to approach her, but his French was rusty since it had not been used since his middle school days when he took the class to impress a thirteen-year-old girl who told him that French was the language of lovers. At thirteen, he had no idea what she meant, but at the mention of the word lovers, he was determined to find out. All he had discovered was that he was not particularly good at French.

  And he had not had a chance to talk to the redheaded translator alone to even attempt to communicate with his poor French skills.

  They had finally made it to the second day of the conference, and the speakers were giving their summations. He had listened to economists from around the world, including Stanley, and by this point, he fought to maintain his focus and attention.

  As always, his gaze moved about the room. There were approximately seventy-five attendees representing North and South America, as well as some from Asia and Europe. The conference was being held at the university in a large auditorium, nicely appointed with excellent acoustics. Multiple breakout sessions were held in smaller conference rooms in the same building, and Blake had attended those, following Stanley.

  The large room was dimly lit with the brightest lights focusing on the stage where the current speaker was droning on and on. Blake’s gaze continually shifted toward the second level in the back, where a glass panel allowed the translators to keep an eye on the proceedings while they worked in the silent environment above. Most of the conference was in French, with English and Spanish being the two second-most prevalent languages.

  Unlike security duties where he needed to stay in contact with other members of his team, he wore no earpiece, but his gaze continued to rove out of habit, constantly looking for a threat. The summit had its own security provided by the French Guiana University police. Other than seeing a few assistants that looked as though they were also security, it was, in reality, a very low-key summit attended by academics, not politicians.

  The speeches were scheduled to finish within the hour, and their flight back to the States was not until the following morning. If Stanley continued his habit, he would have dinner in the hotel restaurant and then retire to his room early. That should give Blake enough time to go to the hotel’s gym and work out before grabbing a drink in the bar. Maybe—just maybe—he would see her again.

  He and Stanley had just enough time for an early breakfast the next morning before heading to the airport. Sighing, he leaned against the wall again. Give it up, man…there’s no reason to try to meet the translator just to share a drink and attempt awkward conversation.

  The final speaker completed her comments, and as the gathering applauded, he straightened against the wall, squared his shoulders, and felt his spine crack in several places. For several more minutes, the conference attendees said their goodbyes, gathered their papers and continued chatting. Leaning over again, he spied the redhead chatting with other translators, and he sighed. Turning, he watched as Stanley approached.

  Eyes bright, Stanley enthused, “That was absolutely amazing. Ms. Delgado’s comments on the Asian tariffs and their effects on America were inspiring.”

  Blake offered a nod in acknowledgment, keeping his opinion of the economic summit to himself. “Glad you enjoyed yourself. Are you ready to go back to the hotel?”

  “Yes, yes.” Stanley juggled his notebooks and papers, a few falling to the floor. “I’d like to take tonight as an opportunity to review my notes so that I can prepare my presentation for the university as soon as I get back to the States.”

  Bending to assist Stanley collect his files and notebooks, Blake rolled his eyes. Leaving through the doors in the back of the auditorium along with the crowd, he noticed a group of young men and women descend from a side staircase. They were all smiling and laughing, and he could not help but think that the translators must be thrilled the summit was over. Just as he and Stanley approached the outside doors, his gaze snagged on long red hair once more. Glancing to the side, the woman was facing away from him, but it was the closest he had been. He kept his head turned, hoping she would turn around, but she never did, continuing to chat with the other translators as she left the building.

  As he and Stanley walked out into the sunlight, he slid his aviator sunglasses onto his face and sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

  Hailing a taxi, he ushered Stanley inside, and they made the quick drive back to the hotel. As Stanley muttered to himself and jotted notes down on a tablet, Blake watched the buildings of Cayenne move past the taxi windows. The only trip I’ve ever made to this country, and I’ve seen nothing other than the university and the hotel. Thinking of the other Keepers and their latest missions, he felt somehow cheated.

  The hotel’s bar was lit with bright lights and neon purple accents. Blake sat at one of the hightop tables, ordering whiskey. The bartender, wearing black pants, a white shirt, and black bow tie was efficient, and the server soon brought his drink. The bar was crowded, appearing to be filled with guests dressed in tourist-casual along with others who were more formally attired. He recognized a few faces from the summit, but for the most part, one patron seemed much like the next.

  Hearing laughter from the lobby nearby, he glanced over and spied a gathering of young women moving toward the hotel elevators. Once more, the flash of red hair hanging in waves down the back of one of the women caught his eyes. Interest flared, but she moved with the crowd into the elevator. She turned just before the doors closed, and he could have sworn she looked straight at him and smiled again. Damn. Now I know I’m imagining things.

  Tired, bored, and ready to head back home, he sat for a few more minutes, checking his emails on his phone and sipping the rest of h
is drink. Just as he was ready to step away, he was stunned to see her walking into the bar.

  Closer to her than he had been, he could now see that her hair was not a deep russet color but much more vibrant. Strands of red, orange, copper, and gold mixed together to create a shade that was mesmerizing.

  Her pale complexion held a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose, giving her a youthful appearance. She wore little makeup, just enough to highlight her large blue eyes and pink lips. Dressed casually in black slacks and a pale pink blouse, she stood out in a sea of women in garish colors and too-tight dresses.

  A server approached her and asked, “Bonsoir. Qu’est-ce que je vous sers?”

  A polite smile crossed her lips, and she nodded. “Bonsoir. Je voudrais un verre de vin blanc, s’il vous plaît.”

  She looked around as though searching for someone before her gaze landed on him, and her smile widened. Up close, he could see the blush touch her cheeks as she turned back to the server, accepting a glass of white wine from him.

  Blake hesitated, something he usually did not do when seeing a woman that interested him in a bar, but not knowing how to communicate with her held him back. Ready to leave, just before standing and offering her his place, another woman popped her head into the bar and called out, “Sara! Our shuttle van is going to be coming in the morning for all the translators. We don’t want to miss our flight.”

  “I’ll be there in plenty of time.” The redheaded beauty waved goodbye to the other woman.

  Hearing her speak English, Blake threw caution to the wind, rose from his seat, and waved his hand toward his table. “Please, would you like to sit here?” He held his breath for a few seconds, letting it out when her smile widened again, and she walked toward him.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all.” He extended his hand. “My name is Blake. William Blake.”

  She looked down and placed her much smaller one in his. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Sara Lancaster.”

  Sara had noticed the large, handsome man in the hotel two days earlier. Hell, any woman between her teens and nineties would have noticed him. She could not deny that everything about Blake was perfect. Square jaw, a perfectly-formed mouth with lips that would have held her attention if it had not been for his eyes. Grayish-green and encircled with long lashes that most women would kill for. Black hair cut close but not cropped, and a body that was covered in a tight shirt that did little to hide the bulging muscles underneath.

  She had seen him at the university conference center and at first wondered if he was an economics specialist. Then she had noticed he did not participate but stood to the side. The thought ran through her mind that if he was a bodyguard, she would give anything for him to guard her body.

  When walking through the lobby earlier, she caught a glimpse of him in the bar and thought he smiled at her. In fact, it seemed that the few times their eyes had met over the last couple of days he had smiled her way.

  Selena, one of the other translators and her hotel roommate, had seen the exchange just before the elevator doors closed. “If you don’t go back down and meet him I will!” she had threatened, pushing Sara back out the door. “And don’t come back to the room tonight!”

  “I’ll be back.” Seeing Selena’s eyes roll, she added, “I like to play it safe.”

  With her hip cocked, Selena shook her head. “Honey, I get that, but sometimes you can throw caution to the wind and have a good time. Anyway, text me his room number if you decide to take the plunge.”

  Walking into the bar alone, pretending not to look for him when she was definitely looking for him, had been difficult. And now, here she was, sitting at a table with the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. And he was peering deeply at her.

  Suddenly unsure, she had no idea what to say, and simply staring at his lips did not seem polite, although she was sure she could have done so all night. Taking a sip of her wine to give her something to do, she was glad when he spoke.

  “You’re an American?”

  Nodding, she forced her gaze from his lips to his eyes. “Yes. I’m here as a translator for an event.”

  “I’ve seen you at the university. I...uh...wanted to meet you, but it seemed like you were always with the others.”

  “Are you shy, Blake William Blake?” Her eyes twinkled as the wine gave her courage.

  Dropping his chin, he shook his head and chuckled. The sound was deep and rich. She loved listening to voices and realized she could listen to him all the time and never grow tired of the sound.

  “I was called Blake in the military, and it just stuck. I think only my parents still call me William.” He lifted his head so that his eyes were boring straight into hers. Still smiling, he added, “And I’m not usually shy. It’s just that you’re so beautiful, when you were laughing with your friends, I found myself just staring...and then you’d be gone, and I’d missed my opportunity.”

  Taking another gulp of wine, she blushed. “Wow, if that was a line, it was a great one.”

  “It’s not a line, Sara. Just the truth.”

  Her breath caught in her throat, and she smiled. Lips, eyes, voice. Yep…she could definitely sit here all night with him.

  3

  An hour later, in a tangle of arms and legs, hands and lips, they kissed as they pulled at their clothes. He had drunk another whiskey, and she had had two glasses of wine. Neither was drunk, but there was no doubt they were intoxicated on each other.

  He offered to escort her to her room, but finding they were on the same floor, they passed his door first. He hesitated, holding her gaze, her hand resting on his arm. “Would you be offended if I invited you in?” As much as they had flirted in the bar, he was uncertain of her answer. But the words had barely left his lips before she leaned in closely and looked into his face with an unabashed expression of delight.

  Her smile curved her lips, and her hand slid to his chest. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

  “You got a friend you can text…let them know where you are?”

  She caught her bottom lip with her teeth and nodded. Pulling out her phone, she sent a text after glancing at his room number. Gaining a text in return, she looked up, a wide smile on her face.

  As soon as it closed behind her, he pressed her back against the door and her arms reached up to grasp his shoulders. Bending his head, he took her lips in a kiss, not having to wait as she opened her mouth, inviting his tongue to sweep inside. She moaned, and he growled, then the tussling of clothing began.

  Usually more deft, his fingers fumbled with her buttons, and she finally pushed him away, quickly maneuvering out of her blouse. It fell to the floor, and he feasted his eyes on her breasts, spilling from the top of her demi-bra.

  “Jesus, Sara, you’re beautiful,” he said as her hands reached out and clutched his shirt. Divesting himself of it as quickly as she had hers, he looked down to see that she had unfastened her bra and tossed it to the floor as well. Her full breasts bounced in freedom, and he lifted them in his hands as she began squirming to get her pants off.

  Rubbing his thumbs over her taut nipples, he bent and sucked one deep into his mouth. She flattened her back against the door, her hands now fumbling at his belt buckle. He reluctantly let go of her breast, desperate to get both of them naked.

  Once again, they became a tangle of arms and legs in clothing until they both stood, their gazes feasting on each other’s bodies. He lifted her into his arms, latched onto her lips again, and carried her to the bed. Bending, he jerked the comforter down and managed to deposit both of them onto the cool sheets without breaking the kiss…or their teeth.

  She pushed on his shoulders and flipped him onto his back, straddling him. Her long red hair created a silken curtain, and her breasts hung down, her nipples teasing his chest. His hands gripped her ass, kneading the perfect globes.

  He palmed her breasts again, and she threw her head back, eliciting another moan while rubbing her
core against his erection. He slid one hand down between her legs and felt the moisture pool.

  Glad he had the foresight to snag a condom from his pants pocket before he had stripped, he ripped open the wrapper. She took it from his hands and scooted down to where she straddled his thighs, rolling the condom onto his shaft.

  Giving her the initial control, he continued to clutch her ass as she lifted herself and slowly impaled her body onto his cock. She rocked up and down, her tight sheath wrapped around him, creating the friction that sent electricity snapping between them.

  With her hot body rhythmically lifting and plunging on him, he knew he would not last long. Wanting her to find pleasure first, he slid one hand around and gently pinched her clit, eliciting another moan before she tightened on his cock and cried out.

  Just as she flopped on top of him, he quickly rolled her underneath his body and continued to thrust. Her eyes met his, and her lips curved into a grin. He slid his nose along hers before kissing her again, his tongue delving into her mouth in time with his cock moving into her body.

  He held off as long as he could, his pelvis continually rubbing her clit as he plunged to the hilt. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her heels digging into his ass, and she cried out once more just before he tumbled over the edge. His face red and tight, he grimaced through his orgasm, feeling her body clutch his, draining him of every drop.

  As his arms gave out, he dropped on top of her, barely rolling to the side at the last minute, pulling her body with him. Keeping her wrapped in his arms, her face tucked against his neck, his breath heaved, and his heart beat wildly. Slowly, his breathing returned to normal, and he continued to keep her in his embrace. Pulling back, he slid his fingers through her thick hair, brushing the damp tendrils away from her face.

  Her cheeks were flushed, but whether from excitement or embarrassment he was not sure. Her eyes sought his, and he smiled. Moving closer, he kissed her again, this time his lips moving tenderly over hers, his tongue gently soothing over the swollen flesh.