by Maggie Price
Alex thought about all the hours of intensive training he'd received on how not to panic, not to lose focus during an undercover operation. Despite that, he was no longer sure he could keep a cool head or hold on to control while watching Morgan deal with Spurlock and his homicidal bodyguard.
Looking back at her, he tangled his fingers in her thick, golden hair. Her scent drifted over him like a gentle stroke of hands. He had never needed the way he needed her, not with any other woman. No other woman. He intended to protect her. Keep her safe.
He would like nothing better than to cut her out of the operation. Explain to Spurlock that Mrs. Donovan had gone to an out-of-state health spa for a couple of weeks of pampering. But Alex knew his going into Spurlock's territory without backup would make the operation too dangerous. Maybe suicidal. Since Morgan was the only person who could go in with him, he had to come up with the best way to protect her.
He had to keep her safe.
* * *
Morgan woke facedown in the massive four-poster bed, sprawled amid rumpled sheets and tangled pillows. Shoving her hair away from her face, she blinked against the sunlight spilling through the bedroom windows.
Groggy, it took her a moment to remember all that had happened between her and Alex last night. Her lips curved as she snuggled into the cozy nest of pillows. She felt alive. Replenished. Sore and swollen and wonderful.
Languid as a cat, she gave a little stretch, her smile deepening at the minor aches that registered in her body. After a moment she slid her arm sideways, felt the coolness of the creamy white sheet on what had been Alex's side of the bed.
Vaguely she wondered how long he'd been gone…and how soon he would be back.
She burrowed into the crisp linens, inhaling deeply of his clean, masculine scent. An instant shaft of heat streaked straight up her spine. It had been so long since she'd felt anything this intensely. Since she'd wanted so intensely.
Feeling more than a little decadent, she summoned the energy to turn over and prop her naked body up on a bank of pillows. Her insides jolted when she looked across the bedroom and spotted Alex sitting motionless in one of the wing chairs angled in front of the green-marble fireplace. He'd been watching her sleep, she realized. Sitting there, quiet as death, watching.
He was dressed in a dark knit pullover shirt that made his eyes look almost black, khaki pants and loafers with no socks. In the bright sunlight his face looked tense, his eyes grim.
Morgan felt her chest tighten. His was hardly the expression a woman hoped to see on the face of the man she'd taken as her lover. Still, his expression might have nothing to do with her. With them. He might have something totally unrelated on his mind.
She smiled. "Good morning."
"Morning." He didn't answer her smile with one of his own, just nodded toward the foam cup sitting on the nightstand. "I went out and picked up coffee."
"Thanks." She checked the time as she retrieved the cup. "It's early for you to be up."
"You're right."
Her heart stirred when he stood and walked toward her. Stirred again when he cupped his palm against her cheek. She placed her hand against his, lacing her fingers through his, thinking he would rejoin her in bed. Instead he gazed down at her in silence, looking solemn with something akin to regret in his eyes.
Regret.
"Morgan, we need to talk." He untangled his fingers from hers, then moved to the antique writing desk with the hidden compartment that held their weapons and badges. She noticed now the papers on the desk's surface that hadn't been there the night before.
She closed her eyes. This man who had touched her so intimately throughout the night, who had touched her in ways no other man ever had, had left her bed to buy convenience store coffee and deal with paperwork. Now instead of crawling back into bed he looked at her with regret and he wanted to talk. Not good.
She sipped her coffee and tasted nothing. She conceded she hadn't known exactly what she was getting into when she'd thrown common sense out the window and stepped into Alex Blade's arms. Still, she hadn't expected him to give her the "see you around" treatment the following morning. This was why, exactly why she'd been so careful after her one relationship fiasco to avoid taking further risks. There were good, solid reasons for not opening oneself up to pain. She should have heeded them last night.
"I refined our operation plan," Alex said when he reached the desk.
She tightened her fingers on the cup. "Refined it?" she asked evenly.
"I had Rackowitz research the Fourth of July parties Spurlock has thrown over the past years. They're huge. Hundreds of people all over the house and grounds. That means security is even tighter than usual, inside and out. I've decided it will be better if you to stay downstairs and mingle with the other guests while I check upstairs for the gold bedroom."
"That wasn't our plan."
"Like I said, I refined it."
"What about photos?"
"What about them?"
"We still need pictures of the upper floors so our guys who serve the warrant will know the mansion's layout ahead of time."
"I'll take them."
"With what? You can't exactly walk around upstairs using the camera in my tube of lipstick."
"I called Wade Crawford while I was out getting coffee. He's fitting a micro camera into a pager I can hook onto my belt."
"Having Wade go to that extra trouble when I already have a camera is a waste of time, equipment and manpower."
Alex leaned against the desk. "You sound like a number-crunching bureaucrat, McCall. You'll fit right in when you make it to the chief's office."
"Thank you," she said coolly, her eyes narrowing. "Want to tell my why you suddenly lost your common sense?"
"I haven't," he said mildly. "This is my operation. I call the shots. The plan's changed. Period."
She sipped coffee, watching him over the cup's rim. Her mind was too analytical to let things go at that. Nothing had happened to require his sudden revision of their plan. The only thing that had changed since the night before was her and Alex's personal relationship.
"We already have a workable plan in place," she pointed out.
"Like I said, there's been a change."
The coolness in Alex's demeanor started a slow, molten anger burning inside her. She set the cup on the nightstand, shoved back the sheets and rose.
She had a good idea how she looked, standing naked, her hair tousled and curling around her breasts, her mouth still swollen from his kisses, her skin chafed from the stubble on his chin.
It was satisfying, very satisfying to watch his gaze heat, then drop and slide down her bare flesh. She had the sensation he was absorbing her with his eyes.
"Why, Alex?" she demanded. "Why change the plan?"
His gaze slowly lifted. There was more than heat in his eyes now. There was emotion. Something she couldn't decipher, but it was there.
"How smooth do you think things will go for you if Colaneri catches you snooping again?" he asked quietly. "What if the next time the bastard gets you alone he has a knife? A gun?"
"I'll defend myself. Again." She eased out a breath, forced herself to think. "With so many people at the party, I can just about guarantee I won't be the only one wandering around upstairs. If I am questioned, I'll claim I'm browsing, admiring the decor." She angled her chin. "Think you can slide by with an explanation like that, Blade? That you're interested in Spurlock's choice of wallpaper?"
His smile was thin and sharp as a scalpel. "Whatever happens, I'll deal with it."
"So will I. Like I did the other night with Colaneri. And Spurlock."
"That's not going to happen again."
"Aren't you the one who keeps telling me there's no way to know what might happen while working undercover?"
"You can try to anticipate certain events. And prevent them."
"Last night our plan was fine," she persisted. "This morning it isn't to your liking. What changed in the past hours?"
<
br /> Leaden silence fell between them; Alex studied her, his face expressionless. "This revision to our ops plan isn't something you need to analyze to death, McCall," he said finally. "You just need to accept."
"If there was a logical reason for the change, I would."
She grabbed her ivory robe off the end of the bed and jerked it on. "I'll tell you what I think is going on. You woke up regretting what happened between us last night." She cinched the robe's sash around her waist so tight she could barely breathe. "Fine, Alex, that's your right, I'll deal with it. But I'm still your partner until this assignment's over, and you have no right to treat me like I'm suddenly incapable of doing my job."
"Dammit, Morgan!" He pushed away from the desk, his hands clenched against his thighs as he moved toward her. "That's not what I think."
"That's what it feels like," she tossed back, unable to keep the hurt out of her voice.
His hands shot out with such speed she had no time to react, could only utter a gasp when he jerked her against him. "I'm trying to keep you out of the line of fire. I want you safe. Is that logical enough for that computer-chip brain of yours?"
"I—"
"I care about you." His fingers dug into her arms like shafts of steel as he leaned over her, his eyes as dark as thunderclouds. "A hell of a lot more than I should. That's the problem. Going onto Spurlock's turf is dangerous enough as it is. I need to keep a cool head. Need to maintain focus. I can't do that when I'm worried about you."
The words shocked her, hinting at a vulnerability she never would have suspected he felt. "You changed our plan because you think the way we had things worked out puts me in too much danger?"
"I don't want you hurt. It makes me crazy to think about you getting hurt."
"I don't want you hurt."
"I can take care of myself."
"So can I." She stared up at him as the reason for his aloofness cut through her pain. "If something happens while I'm upstairs, you'll be there to back me up. I trust you to be there."
His fingers gripped her shoulders so tight she knew she'd have bruises. "How much backup was I for you while you were locked in that bathroom with Colaneri?"
"If I had needed help, you'd have gotten to me in time."
"That happened days ago, and I still want to kill the bastard. I want to rip him apart with my bare hands just for breathing on you. You still trust me to keep a cool head, Morgan?"
"I trust you with my life." Doing that is not as dangerous, unpredictable or high risk as falling in love with you. She cupped her palm against his cheek. "And I care about you, too. A lot. Does that mean you no longer trust me to back you up?"
"You're my first choice for a backup." He slid his fingers through her hair. "Remember, I watched you take down every hulking guy in your recruit class. You can be scary, lady." He eased out a breath. "You scare the hell out of me."
"So we stick to our original plan? I do the upstairs work while you keep Spurlock occupied?"
"Dammit." He slid his hands in one long, possessive stroke down the sides of her body. Then back up. "Anyone ever mention that stubborn streak of yours, McCall?"
Her mouth curved. "I'm not stubborn, just focused. So we're staying with the original plan?"
"Yeah." His gaze dropped from her face, lowered. "It'd be best if we tabled things between us for now."
"Table them?" she asked, feeling a hollow sinking in her stomach.
He stepped away, turned and paced back to the fireplace. After a moment he shoved a hand through his hair. "We both need to concentrate on doing this job and walking away in one piece."
Morgan nodded. It was ridiculous, she knew, to feel a drag of hurt over how seemingly easy it had been for Alex to switch off his emotions. To shift what had happened between them last night into the background.
A dull ache settled in her belly. Maybe Alex was right, she conceded. Maybe right now, there was too much to say. Entirely too much to feel. Too much emotion in play to try to coolly sort out where—or how far—they each wanted their relationship to go.
As if to seal his intent, he moved to the desk. "We'll spend the time between now and the party going over the original plan. We look for holes we've left open, minute slits something could fall through. We double-check our surveillance equipment. Triple-check it. We try to anticipate everything that can go wrong. And how to deal with it if it does."
He paused, his sober gaze locking with hers. "Nothing goes wrong, Morgan. No one gets hurt. Everything goes as smooth as silk. It has to."
"Silk," she agreed, even as an involuntary shiver skittered down the back of her neck.
Chapter 14
Just as intel predicted, Spurlock tightened security for his Fourth of July party. Black-suited bodyguards with masked expressions halted vehicles at the gate, checking identification against a list of authorized guests.
After he and Morgan passed inspection, Alex steered the pearl-white BMW up the long drive framed in red, white and blue lights, stopping in front of the massive curving entry. He handed the keys to the uniformed valet who scurried over. Another minion opened Morgan's door. When Alex reached her, he placed a hand at the small of her back where a slither of midnight blue sequins dipped to the waist.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Ready." The confident smile she gave him belonged to her alter ego.
He focused on the task before them, not the soft flesh against his palm, nor the profound wariness that dogged him. He had learned long ago not to ignore his instincts. Still, this ominous feeling had hung over him since he'd admitted to himself how he felt about Morgan. He was both a cop and a man worried about the woman he loved. No big surprise his need to protect had shifted into high gear.
They advanced up the steps to the long, sweeping front porch decked out with shrubs and sweet-scented flowers. As they followed another couple inside, Alex glanced at the woodwork surrounding the double front door, knowing the ornate carvings concealed a metal detector that scanned each guest for weapons.
He would have preferred to have a gun or knife strapped to his ankle, but if that were the case, this would be as far as he got. Other than his own abilities, his sole means of defense was the solid-gold designer watch that, with three clicks of its stem, would transmit an SOS to Rackowitz's pager.
A few steps inside the marbled foyer, a waiter approached with a silver tray loaded with champagne in long-throated glasses. Alex took one of the flutes, handed it to Morgan. He waved the server away, saying he didn't want a glass for himself.
She slid a hand into the crook of his arm. "There's our host," she murmured.
Alex settled his hand over hers and surveilled Spurlock as he moved across the foyer greeting male guests with handshakes and kissing women on the cheek. Several of those females gave Spurlock a last fawning look before moving off with their escorts toward the living area that was ablaze with lights and color and packed with people standing elbow to elbow. Alex suspected Krystelle Vander had displayed the same keen interest when she'd first laid eyes on the man. Too bad that had earned her a slit throat and a bullet in the head for George Jackson.
The thought tightened Alex's chest. If everything went according to plan tonight, the good guys would be on the road to avenging not only George's death, but five others.
Spurlock moved fully into view, his tailored black suit draping elegance over his tall, honed frame. His dark hair with silver at the temples looked perfectly styled; his gray eyes held a polite, unreadable expression.
Until they focused on Morgan.
The razor-sharp appreciation that sliced into the bastard's gaze had Alex wanting to slam a fist into his face. Still, he understood Spurlock's reaction. It mirrored his own when he had caught his first glimpse of her in the short, sequined dress that was a curve-clinging statement of femininity. As an added bonus, the dress had slits up both sides that yielded a blood-pumping view of endless, long leg. Her blond hair cascaded across her shoulders in a wild tousle, the way Alex knew it did
after a session of hot, steamy sex. Smoky shadow highlighted her laser-blue eyes; peach-colored gloss gave her full lips a pouty look.
Alex knew a man would have to be stone-cold dead not to appreciate the beautiful young woman on his arm. His woman.
Spurlock took her hand and pressed a brief kiss on her knuckles. "Morgan, you take my breath away."
"Thank you, Carlton." She tilted her head, one long, crystal earring brushing her shoulder. "We appreciate you inviting us over again so soon. Don't we, Alex?"
"It's good to get to know your neighbors."
"Yes," Spurlock agreed, slicking his thumb over Morgan's knuckles. "Both personally and professionally," he added as he offered Alex his hand. "Speaking of business, I'm anxious to hear about what progress, if any, you've made on the venture we discussed the other night."
Alex spared their host only a glance before refocusing on Morgan. "I've made substantial progress and we'll talk about it. Tomorrow," he added before tracing a fingertip along her jawline. "Tonight I plan to pay attention to my wife." As if on cue, low, pulsing music drifted on the air. "Dance with me, darling?"
"Love to." Morgan shifted her gaze. "Carlton, I hope you'll save a dance for me later."
"Several." He looked back at Alex. "I'm the last man to fault you for wanting to spend time with such a beautiful woman," he said smoothly. "However, an associate, a financial advisor adept at certain…ventures is here tonight. He's leaving town in the morning. I would like to meet with both of you so we can finalize the arrangements you and I discussed the other night."
As if weighing the matter, Alex let a few seconds pass. He figured the advisor was some middle man Spurlock planned to put to work in the porno theater to keep an eye on his boss's money while it was being washed. The third man's presence was a bonus, Alex decided. It would extend the meeting, which meant he could keep Spurlock busy for a longer period while Morgan searched upstairs for the gold bedroom.