The hot pasty did nothing to calm her previous tension from her encounter with the guard. Kimberly likely wouldn’t regain her equilibrium until she had four solid walls around her again. Finally, next to the antique shop with silver-handled walking canes in the window, she spotted the scenic hotel with welcoming baskets of flowers on both sides of the front door and jogged up the steps two at a time.
Her eyes took a moment to adjust from the bright daylight outside to the dim interior. Her tour guide, Liam Short stood in the reception area and shot her a friendly wave. “Kimberly, we’ve picked up another traveler. I’d like you to meet—”
No. It couldn’t be him.
“—Jason Parker.”
Not Mr. I could be a movie star but I’d rather accost American tourists in the library.
“He’s going to be spending the next few weeks with our group.”
Floored, Kimberly stared at the man who’d questioned her and undressed her in the library. He looked too big for the crowded lobby. Too handsome. Too in-charge. What was he doing here and how had he beaten her to the hotel? And how had he known where she was staying?
Jason Parker’s sudden joining of their group couldn’t be accidental. He looked way too pleased with himself and his oh-so-blue eyes sported a definite twinkle, almost as if he knew that her mouth had gone dry and her nipples had immediately hardened at the sight of him. And then to cap it off, he actually winked at her.
“Kimberly and I bumped into one another in the library.”
Bumped!
Liam spoke in his Irish brogue. “Ah, then you have a love of reading in common. I’ll be sure to sit you two together for dinner.”
Had he really had the nerve to say bumped?
Kimberly battled down anger—at least enough to speak through her haze of red. “We will not sit together during dinner. This man’s a criminal. You should call the police.”
2
JASON GRINNED, just to irritate her. After all, irritating her seemed only fair after the way her green eyes heated him up like a frisky stallion. “Calling the police would be inappropriate.”
“Really? Wouldn’t that be like letting a criminal tell the judge what his sentence should be?” Kimberly countered, her tone revealing that she was quite miffed with him.
Her insinuation about criminals hit just a little too close to home, and Jason took care not to react to her comment. Whoever had said that women looked beautiful when angry had never faced Kimberly Hayward’s wrath. She didn’t just glower at him, she stomped over, speaking as she took those long-legged strides, looking about as adorable as a tigress on the hunt. Then she stabbed her pointing finger in his chest. “This man accosted me.”
She’d spoken loudly enough to turn the heads of other curious hotel guests. Jason chuckled, just to irritate her even more. “If I hadn’t stopped you, the security guard would have and he wouldn’t have been as nice.”
Kimberly’s eyes smoldered with fury. “Nice?”
Liam looked from Kimberly to Jason in confusion. “Security guard?”
Apparently Kimberly didn’t feel up to enlightening him. She compressed her lips, pivoted on her heel and stormed up the stairs, muttering, “Nice men don’t feel up women they don’t know while they pin them to the wall.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll smooth things over,” Jason told the puzzled guide. “It’s just a little spat between friends. Good friends.” He gave the impression that he and Kimberly were intimately acquainted, and the guide grinned back, sharing a glance of unspoken understanding that men can never expect women to act logically.
When the other hotel guests realized the fireworks had ended, they moved on, but not before several ladies, who apparently hadn’t believed Kimberly’s accusation, made it known by encouraging smiles that they would welcome his attention. However, one older woman gave him a wide berth as he followed Kimberly up the stairs.
He knocked on the door she’d just slammed.
“Liam?”
“It’s Jason.”
“I don’t know anyone named Jason,” Kimberly yelled through the door.
“That’s because I didn’t introduce myself properly at the library.”
“I doubt you know how to do anything properly,” Kimberly countered, in a voice so annoyed that Jason chuckled again. She was more correct than she’d known. He might have been brought up in the best of homes, but Jason had spent the last ten years building his wealth. To him, prosperity was a smoke screen to mask his illegal activities.
What he lacked in morality, he made up for with charm, charm he intended to use on Miss Kimberly. Although his usual tastes ran to flashier women, he liked Kimberly’s looks, her spunk and independent nature. Actually there was nothing he disliked about her—except the fact that she might be a spy. But just because her parents had been spies didn’t mean that she had followed in their footsteps. After all, Jason’s folks were upstanding Bostonians who would be appalled by their son’s chosen career. So while Jason didn’t know the real Kimberly, he wasn’t about to believe unsubstantiated accusations. While eventually he intended to get to the bottom of this puzzle, he fully intended to take his time and enjoy the process.
“Look, we’re going to be traveling together for the next week or so.”
“Not if I have you arrested.”
“Please, open your door. I came to apologize.”
“For assaulting and undressing me?”
He’d barely touched her. And he suspected her anger was because he’d caught her in the act—but in the act of what, he still wasn’t sure. While her story made sense in a convoluted way, it wasn’t the perfect cover. A real thief would have come up with a better story, one that could be easily verified. However, he no longer saw a reason to follow her secretly. Not when it was so much more convenient to keep a close eye on her by joining her tour group.
Instead of watching her from a discreet distance, he could sit next to her on the train and enjoy her conversation as well as her delicate citrus scent. He could glance at her across the dinner table and watch her delectable lips. And he could most definitely make opportunities to flirt and tease.
“It’s difficult to apologize through this door.”
“And I’d have to be crazy to open my door for you.”
Talking was getting him nowhere. Jason reached into his pocket, snapped open his tool set and picked her lock in mere seconds. He opened her door, which didn’t have one of those useless little chains like those in American hotels, stepped inside and closed it behind him.
A flowerpot sailed through the air at his head. She had a good arm. He ducked, the ceramic pot crashed against the door and dirt scattered across the oak floor.
Before she could launch another missile at him or shout for help, Jason lunged across the room, grabbed Kimberly’s wrists and dumped her onto the queen-size bed. He sprawled on top of her, enjoying the feel of her lithe curves pressed against his. Obviously she hadn’t a clue what all her squirming was doing to him, but in such an intimate position, she’d find out real soon if they’d remained this close.
When she opened her mouth to scream, her eyes more angry than frightened, he shook his head. “Don’t scream or—”
“Or what? You’ll clamp your filthy hand over my mouth, again?”
His hands were immaculate. He didn’t need to look to know. A thief required a sensitive touch to pick different kinds of locks. Nor could a thief afford a rough nail that might catch on a tool at a critical moment. Jason kept his hands in top-notch condition.
“If you don’t like my hands, perhaps you would prefer that I kissed you quiet?”
“Oh, please.” She twisted her strong yet sensual body in an attempt to dislodge him, but his thighs settled firmly between her strong legs that cradled him as if they were an ideal fit. Perfectly proportioned, her hips were narrow, her waist slender and her lovely breasts revealed tight hard nipples that suggested she might not object to him so very much after all.
He remembered her reaction to
him at the library, the feel of her skin all trembly and smooth beneath the pad of his fingertip. The way her lips pressed together whenever she was thinking hard. The way her hips wriggled against him.
With her violent twisting and turning beneath him right now, he feared she’d hurt herself. But he also knew that her fiery movements were creating havoc with his senses. Didn’t she have any idea how good her breasts felt against his chest? If she didn’t hold still, he wouldn’t be able to contain his arousal.
They were in a hotel room, on a bed. He could have her undressed in less than five seconds and then he could nibble a sleek path down here neck. Feast on her mouth. Savor…no he shouldn’t.
He spoke through gritted teeth. “Stop thrashing.”
She panted. With her hair fanned out around her head, her eyes looked too big for her face. “Let me go.”
“We need to talk.”
“I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”
“If you don’t want to talk, can I assume that all your thrashing around is simply foreplay?”
Her eyes flashed with anger. She leaned forward and bit his shoulder. No love bite. Pain careened down his arm, and he cursed, but he didn’t let her go. “If you try that again, I’ll tie you up with the drapery cords.”
At his threat, she stilled. Her eyes widened and she panted from her exertions.
“That’s better.” He released her hands, stood, walked to the other side of the room and leaned his back against the door. While he still blocked her escape, he gave her all the room he could. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I feel so much better now,” she muttered sarcastically, leaping off the bed as if the mattress were in flames.
“I’m the only one here who got hurt.” He rubbed his sore shoulder, wondering if her teeth would leave a permanent bite mark. For some reason wearing her brand didn’t bother him. In fact, he rather liked the idea, but knew better than to say so. “I might be bleeding.”
“Now, you want me to feel sorry for you? You barged into my room. You can just turn around and barge your way out.”
He admired her sassy attitude, but he wasn’t going anywhere. Not when he was having so much fun. Not before he’d done what he’d come to do. With her blond hair once again tangled, her eyes drawn together in a frown of disapproval and her lips set so tightly against him, he had to look away to refrain from grinning—an act he was positive that she wouldn’t appreciate.
Her room was a mess, with books and magazines flung everywhere. The trash overflowed with balled-up pieces of paper. She had sticky notes stuck to her dresser, her closet and her laptop computer. She claimed to be a screenwriter and her room certainly backed up her story.
“I’m not going anywhere—not yet.” Jason knew that Kimberly Hayward actually had a genuine job in Hollywood as Quinn Scott’s production assistant. She’d even gone to film school. But Logan Kincaid’s government contacts believed that her job was a brilliant cover.
Jason thought Kimberly Hayward was exactly what she seemed—until he remembered how easily she’d slipped into the role of Dr. Johnson back at the library. Maybe a spy could have pulled off that kind of deception, but an experienced spy wouldn’t have been as frightened as she’d seemed and would have had a verifiable story. But then, maybe she’d feigned the fear and the innocence to throw him off.
“If I ran into the bathroom and locked that door, you’d pick that lock, too, wouldn’t you?” She scowled at him, edged toward the fireplace and picked up the poker. Holding the weapon, one that he could easily take away from her, seemed to feed her courage. “Who are you? Why have you been watching me, and why won’t you leave me alone?”
“Quinn sent me.” Jason was a very good liar, but this was one whopper of a tale.
Her eyes narrowed. “At the library you acted as if you’d never heard of Quinn Scott.”
“I lied. I’m a movie consultant and I’m supposed to be making sure you follow through on your assignment.” Jason shrugged, careful to portray an I-don’t-care-if-you-believe-me-or-not demeanor.
“You can call Quinn to check my story if—”
“Like I’m going to believe you, with Quinn so conveniently out of touch on his honeymoon—and I told you that, remember?”
“True.”
“Why did you accost me at the library?”
“It was either me or the real security guard. He saw you on the video camera and was ready to call the police.”
Her grip tightened on the poker. “And you were with him because?”
“I have to report to Quinn whether or not you can pull off your capers.”
Her eyes narrowed. “If you work for Quinn, how come I’ve never heard of you?”
“I work for his foreign division.”
“You have any proof?”
Thankful for the fake cover that included an office and secretary that the Shey Group had set up for him, Jason was ready for her to check out his story. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet and extracted a business card. “You can make the appropriate phone call and verify my connections to the studio, okay?”
She didn’t take the card, didn’t risk coming closer. “So if Quinn hired you, why did you ask me all those questions at the library?”
“For the security guard’s sake.” Jason placed the card on the dresser. “The guard was watching us on the hallway monitor. I had to ask questions that would satisfy him.”
He wondered if she was going to buy his outrageous story. According to the file that Kincaid had given him, she was accustomed to excessive Hollywood types, but she also had a good mind. Jason relaxed against the door, thoroughly enjoying the challenge of watching her try to trip him up.
“The security guard just let you in?”
“Using a business card and your boss’s name does wonders. And security had the best view of the ladies’ room,” he teased.
“You watched…”
“To both our disappointment, we couldn’t see beyond the stall door.”
She most obviously didn’t want to think about that statement and moved on, her tone hostile and suspicious. “Quinn really sent you?”
“Yes.”
“Doesn’t he trust me?”
Although Jason had pretended to know nothing of Kimberly’s work for Quinn Scott to see if he could break her cover, he knew much more about her than he’d let on.
Kincaid had provided Jason with a copy of her script. More importantly, the Shey Group had bugged Quinn’s office, and Jason had read transcripts of the conversation where Quinn had asked Kimberly to revise the script. But when he’d broken into Kimberly’s room last week in Brighton and found her note to herself that said, “find a man to help with love scenes,” that made him well prepared to lie again. “Maggie figured you’d need a partner to help you work out the sex scenes.”
“What?” Her eyes went huge with horror and embarrassment and a few other emotions he couldn’t read. But he could guess. She most definitely didn’t like Jason’s most brilliant idea. He could live with her annoyance—just not with her rejection. Kimberly had a quality about her that made this crazy favor he was doing for the Shey Group quite pleasurable. In fact, if he’d known working on this side of the law could be this challenging and engaging, he might have switched sides a long time ago.
Jason was having fun pushing her buttons, figuring it was only fair since she’d pushed so many of his. “Quinn claims you’re so uptight about sex that—”
“Quinn talked to you about my sex life! Quinn?” Kimberly took a step forward and raised the poker as if to strike.
Apparently, Jason had made a mistake. She and Quinn weren’t that close. He must have forgotten something—ah yes, the new wife was the one who’d made a private comment to her husband, not the other way around.
“Maggie—”
“Maggie would never betray my confidences.”
Jason knew when he’d hit gold and his stab in the dark had produced twenty-four carats. “M
aggie wants you to be as happy as she is.”
“And she chose you?” Kimberly shook her head, her eyes rolling toward the ceiling in disbelief. “And didn’t say a word to me?”
“Look, I don’t know what went on between the bride and groom, I just know that after Quinn’s phone call I got an all-expense paid ticket—”
“How come you didn’t fly over with me?” Kimberly still held the poker, but at a less threatening angle.
Jason couldn’t tell her that he’d been spying on her for the last week. “I had other commitments and flew in from Barcelona. I thought I’d made myself available in plenty of time.”
“How do you know Quinn?”
“He brought me in to consult on Thief of Hearts.” Jason used the cover the Shey team had supplied for him. But he had actually seen the film and been impressed with the research. A pro had advised the movie people how to go about breaking into the Parisian safe.
“I provided technical help. Just like I can help you with those sex—love—” he amended “—scenes.”
Eyes throwing daggers at him, she pointed the poker at the door. “Get out.”
“Don’t you like me?”
“I don’t know you.”
“We can get to know one another better. Much better.”
Her fingers tensed around the poker. “You’re insane.”
“You’ll get used to me.”
“Don’t count on it.”
He kept the grin from his lips. She hadn’t said no. She hadn’t tried to separate his head from his shoulders by swinging that poker. She looked from the business card back to him, clearly considering.
His story was far-fetched, but he’d given her enough insider facts to make her consider it. Thanks to the Shey Group’s cover and Intel, Jason had the inside scoop on private details of Kimberly’s life. But what he really wanted to know wasn’t in the files.
However, she was sending subtle signals his way that filled him with hope. The intriguing blush that rose up her neck and pinkened her cheeks, the flare of her nostrils, the rapid pulse beating in her graceful neck gave him cause to believe that the attraction wasn’t all one way.
A Burning Obsession Page 3