Armand chuckled, trying like hell to ignore the throbbing ache in his groin. If he didn’t think she’d look over and catch him, he would have reached down and adjusted his jeans to relieve the straining at his zipper.
“Because we only have one fishing rod. And unless I’m mistaken,” he drawled, “you’re the one who kept bragging about what a skilled fisherman you are, how your father taught you everything he knew.”
“I am,” Lia insisted, scowling. “And he did. I’m just having an off day, that’s all. It’s been a while.”
She looked so adorably frustrated that Armand took pity on her. He started to sit up. “Here, let me hel—”
“No, no,” she said firmly. “I can do this. I’ll catch the fish, and you can clean and cook them for dinner. How does that sound?”
At the mention of dinner, Armand felt a surge of anticipation that had nothing to do with enjoying a delicious meal. He had another—far better—reason to look forward to dinner that evening.
He and Lia would be completely alone.
Earlier that morning, she’d informed him that the other Secret Service agents were being recalled to Washington to join the president’s protection detail. Armand had been thrilled to realize that he would have Lia all to himself for the next three days. Morning, noon and night, she would be his only companion, just as he’d wanted all along. It was almost too good to be true.
“I think I’ve got something!” Lia cried out excitedly.
Pulled from his pleasant contemplation of the evening ahead, Armand sat up, watching as Lia quickly reeled in her fishing lure. Sure enough, she had hooked a large silver trout weighing at least five pounds, a thing of beauty. But before she could haul it in, the fish wriggled free of the hook and splashed back into the water.
Lia watched, with an expression of abject dismay, as her prize catch swam away valiantly.
Armand waited a beat, then offered the first thing that came to mind. “At least you’re making progress. That trout was even bigger than the one you almost caught before.”
Lia gave him a look that told him, in no uncertain terms, just what he could do with his unsolicited feedback. Armand swallowed a bark of laughter.
“If Dad could see me now,” she grumbled, glaring at her fishing rod as if it were the source of all her troubles, “he would disown me.”
“Oh, I doubt that very seriously,” Armand drawled, reaching into the cooler on the floor beside him and pulling out two frosted beers. He twisted the cap off each bottle, then held one out to her. “Why don’t you take a short break? Sometimes all you need is a little time to regroup before getting back on the horse.”
Lia eyed the proffered beer for a moment, then, with a resigned sigh, she set down her fishing rod and came toward him.
Their fingers brushed as she took the cold bottle from his hand. Heat shot through his veins at the satin warmth of her skin. His body stirred with desire.
Oblivious to his reaction, Lia plunked down on the seat beside him, lifted the bottle to her lips and took a healthy swig of beer.
Armand studied her profile with a knowing grin. “It kills you, doesn’t it?”
“What?” she mumbled sullenly.
“Not being the best at something. It’s eating you up inside, isn’t it?”
She scowled. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I would. You’ve got steam coming out of your ears. Ouch! It just burned me.”
Her lips twitched, fighting the tug of a grin. “All right, so maybe I am a little annoyed.”
“Just a little,” Armand said, smiling.
Lia huffed out an indignant breath. “We’ve been out here for over an hour, and I haven’t caught anything!”
“What’s the rush?” Armand murmured. “The day’s still young. We’ve got all afternoon.”
“At the rate I’m going,” she grumbled morosely, “it’s going to take us all night.”
Armand took a long sip of his beer, thinking of at least two other things he’d rather be doing with Lia all night. Fishing was not one of them.
“I don’t understand what the problem is,” she continued in exasperation. “I’ve never had this much trouble before. The first time I went fishing with my father, I was only seven years old, and I caught plenty of fish the first hour we were out there! Same as every other time we went fishing. Now I’ll be lucky if I catch just one before we leave.”
Armand leaned back on his elbows, a soft, whimsical smile playing about the corners of his mouth. “Maybe I’m the problem,” he mused. “Maybe I’m bringing you bad luck.”
Lia shot him a dark look. “Now that you mention it, the same thought had occurred to me.”
When Armand roared with laughter, Lia grinned at him. With her long, black hair scooped into a ponytail, she looked so much like the spirited young beauty who’d captivated him all those years ago that for a moment he almost forgot they weren’t back in Muwaiti. But the sight of the Glock 9mm sidearm holstered at her waist served as a sobering reminder that things were not the same as they had been eight years ago.
In more ways than one.
Determined to keep reality at bay, at least for a while longer, Armand smiled gently at Lia. “When was the last time you went fishing with your father?”
“Six years ago,” she answered. “He and my mother took me on a two-week cross-country trip the summer I graduated from college, before I started my job at the Secret Service. Dad said it would probably be a long time before we could all go on another vacation together, so he wanted to make it really special.”
“And was it?”
Lia nodded. “Most definitely,” she said, smiling at the memory. “We rented an RV and drove from our home in Arlington, Virginia, all the way to California. Along the way, we visited just about every national historic landmark we could, including a number of slave houses and presidential museums, Churchill Downs, the Saint Louis Arch, Rocky Mountain National Park, the Grand Canyon, the vineyards in Napa Valley and Alcatraz Island. We ended our trip at Lake Tahoe, where my father and I went camping, hiking, sailboating and fishing while my mother mostly stayed behind at the cabin and tried to recover from our travels.”
Armand chuckled. “I don’t blame her. It sounds like quite an adventure you had.”
“Oh, it was,” Lia agreed, her smile widening as she warmed to her subject. “I’d never been to any of those places before, so it really was a treat.”
“Your family didn’t travel a lot during your childhood?”
She laughed. “On the contrary. We traveled all the time. Just not in the United States. See, my father was in the foreign service, so I grew up mostly overseas. While most American kids spent their summer vacations at camp or amusement parks, I was moving all over Europe and Africa. By the time I was thirteen years old, we had lived in England, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, Senegal and South Africa.”
Armand whistled softly through his teeth. “Quite the world traveler, weren’t you?”
Lia grinned ruefully. “You could say that. Now don’t get me wrong. I had a very fun, exciting childhood. I was constantly exposed to different people, languages and cultures, and I wouldn’t trade those wonderful experiences for anything in the world. But the downside of moving around so much was that I never really felt rooted anywhere. We were always on the go, like a Gypsy caravan. In fact, that’s what one of my tutors called me—her little American Gypsy.”
Armand smiled softly. “You have eyes like a Gypsy. Did she ever tell you that?”
Lia nodded, chuckling. “All the time.”
“Too bad,” Armand said huskily. “I was hoping to be the first.”
Lia met his gaze, her smile fading. Armand could tell by the way her eyes narrowed slightly that she’d caught his double meaning. Afraid that she’d put an abrupt end to the conversation and resume fishing, he smothered a wicked grin and returned to the original subject.
“Of all the places you lived, what was your favorite?” he asked.
&
nbsp; Thankfully she took the bait. “Hmm. Let me see…” She pursed her full lips, pondering the question for a moment. “It’s hard for me to pick a favorite. Each place was so unique and different from the rest, and of course, they all had their pluses and minuses. But if I absolutely had to choose a favorite place, I would say Senegal. I’ll always remember the breathtakingly beautiful beaches, the exotic food and music, the vibrant people and customs. Come to think of it,” she said with a surprised little smile, “I loved Senegal for many of the same reasons I loved Muwaiti so much.”
Armand felt a thrill of pleasure at her words, similar to the way he’d felt earlier when Lia had revealed to him that she hadn’t wanted to leave Muwaiti eight years ago, that she’d felt as if she were leaving a part of herself behind. To know that she loved his homeland even half as much as he did made his chest swell with pride and satisfaction. It also made him feel ridiculously euphoric and hopeful for the future. Because if Lia truly loved Muwaiti and wanted to see the country restored to the peaceful paradise she remembered, then just maybe—
Armand stopped himself, shaken by the direction of his thoughts. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Magliore. Concentrate on surviving the next nine days before you go making any plans for your future, let alone someone else’s.
“Because we never stayed anywhere longer than two years,” Lia was saying, “I tried not to become too attached to any one country. Like I said before, it was hard to feel rooted to a place when you knew you’d be packing up and leaving at any time. Thankfully, I had the kind of parents who made anywhere we lived feel like home.”
Armand noted the softness that filled her voice and the warm glow that lit her dark eyes whenever she spoke about her parents. He wanted to keep her talking, wanted to learn everything there was to know about her. What made her happy? Or angry? What was her favorite novel? Did she live alone or with a roommate? Had she ever been in love or lost her heart to anyone?
Okay, Armand amended, maybe he’d rather not hear the answer to those last two questions.
“Do your parents still live in Virginia?” he asked instead.
Lia nodded. “My father is retired from the foreign service, and he and my mom spend most of their free time putting around in their garden, traveling—no, they haven’t had enough—and doing a lot of community outreach and fundraising. They like to keep busy, which works out fabulously for me. The busier they are, the less time they have to worry about me and my dangerous job.” She chuckled wryly, leaning back and propping her booted feet up on the opposite seat. “Never mind that the kind of upbringing I had pretty much guaranteed that I could never settle for a safe, boring desk job.”
“Naturally.” Armand grinned, giving her a deliberate once-over. “And somehow I can’t see you confined to a safe, boring desk job anyway.”
She gave a husky little laugh that made his pulse leap. “Thanks. I will definitely take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” he murmured. “It was.”
When Lia took a sip of her beer, Armand forced himself not to stare at the sight of her lush, pretty lips wrapped around the rim of the bottle, forced himself not to groan when the pink tip of her tongue flicked out to swipe a droplet of beer from her lower lip. She was a lethal combination of innocence and eroticism, strength, beauty and intelligence. It took his breath away.
Even though her posture was relaxed, he’d noted the way her dark, watchful eyes periodically scanned the surrounding forest, searching for any unseen threat.
The things a man could accomplish with a woman like her by his side, Armand thought.
Nursing their beers, they lapsed into companionable silence, lulled by the warmth of the afternoon sun on their faces, the lazy drone of a hummingbird hovering nearby, the gentle rocking motions of the boat as it bobbed in the water. Armand couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever felt so relaxed and at peace with himself and his surroundings.
It had been far too long.
At length, Lia broke the silence between them. “So what about you, Magliore? What was it like growing up on a tropical island?”
He gave her an amused sidelong glance. “I can guarantee you it wasn’t half as exciting as your globe-trotting childhood.”
She smiled easily at him. “Let me be the judge of that.”
“All right,” said Armand, setting aside his empty beer bottle and hooking his hands behind his head once again. For a moment he idly surveyed their booted feet, which were propped side by side on the opposite seat. He noted the differences in their shoe sizes, struck by how much larger his own feet were. Lia Charles may be a fierce warrior, but she was also a warm, beautiful, undeniably feminine woman.
“As you might imagine,” he began, “I spent much of my childhood on the water. Just to give you an idea of how much the ocean was a part of me, I learned how to swim before I could walk. I went swimming every day after school and on the weekends as soon as I finished my chores. My friends and I used to go deep-sea diving all the time. We spent hours exploring rock formations and the coral reefs, which were pretty amazing. But even when I wasn’t in the water, I had to be near it. I would walk up and down the shoreline, studying tide pool after tide pool until my parents called me inside. They usually had to send my younger brother or sister to get me. That’s when I would know I was in big trouble,” he added with a soft, reminiscent chuckle.
Lia smiled, listening to him with an expression of such rapt absorption that his chest expanded a little. “Did you get in trouble very often?” she asked.
“Not at all,” Armand lied with a straight face.
Lia didn’t buy it for a second. “Yeah, right!” she said laughingly.
He feigned an affronted look. “Now why would you say that?”
Lia rolled her eyes at him in amused exasperation. “One thing I’ve learned about you over the last two days is that you don’t follow rules very easily. Right or wrong, you march to the beat of your own drum, and something tells me you always have. So if you were even half as stubborn and maddening as you are now, then you must have stayed in trouble when you were a little boy.”
Armand grinned at her. “You think I’m stubborn and maddening?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve met mules that were more cooperative than you.”
He threw back his head and laughed.
Trying to hide her own smile, Lia lifted her beer bottle to her mouth and took a long sip.
As his mirth subsided, Armand shook his head slowly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been compared to a mule and come out on the short end of the stick,” he lamented. “That must be an all-time low for me.”
“Don’t feel bad,” Lia told him cheerfully. “At least one of those mules I was referring to had been given a mild sedative before I arrived, which made him a little less ornery.”
Mouth twitching, Armand arched a brow. “Are you saying you might need to sedate me in order to ensure my cooperation from now on?”
Lia laughed. “Of course not! Don’t be…” She trailed off as a sudden gleam of inspiration lit her dark eyes. “But now that you mention it, that’s not such a bad idea.”
He shook his head, chuckling. “I’ll have to keep a close eye on you, woman, just to make sure you don’t slip something into my drink.”
She grinned mischievously. “You shouldn’t have put the idea in my head.”
“Me? You’re the one going around drugging poor mules to make them less ornery.”
“What? I did not drug any mules,” Lia laughingly protested.
“Well, then, you were an accessory,” Armand said accusingly. “Which makes you just as guilty.”
Lia gaped at him in comical disbelief for a moment, then burst out laughing again.
Armand grinned at her, enjoying their nonsensical banter more than anything he’d enjoyed in months. He wished they could stay out there longer, keep the rest of the world at bay forever. But he knew better.
Eyes glittering with mirth, Lia said to him, “Enough about mules.
I want to hear more about Muwaiti, what it was like when you were growing up.”
“How about I tell you more over dinner?” Armand proposed.
She nodded. “All right. Speaking of dinner, I’d better get busy catching some fish or we’re going to starve tonight.”
Armand nodded. “I have every confidence in your ability to catch the biggest trout in this lake. But if at any time you need my help, I’m right here.”
Lia hesitated, then nodded. “All right.”
Armand watched her get up, retrieve her fishing rod and resume her position at the opposite end of the boat. Before casting her lure over the side, she glanced back at him almost shyly.
He gave her a gentle smile of encouragement.
Her answering smile was as radiant as the afternoon sunshine. His heart thudded.
And at that moment Armand decided he would do whatever it took to make Lia Charles his.
Chapter 7
Sipping from a long-stemmed glass of white wine, Lia watched as Magliore used a spatula to turn over the large trout sizzling on the fired-up grill. Flame and smoke billowed, the savory aroma of grilled fish mingling with the scents of pine, hibiscus and night-blooming jasmine.
Two hours after returning from the lake that afternoon, she was still basking in the glow of her big catch—an eight-pound rainbow trout she’d needed help hauling into the boat, a feat for which Magliore had been more than generous in his praise. Afterward, with the prize trout slung over her shoulder, Lia had walked back to the cabin with a cocky swagger that made Magliore laugh uproariously.
Upon their return, she’d tossed a salad while he had cleaned, gutted and seasoned the trout. As they had worked alongside each other, Lia had found herself enjoying their relaxed domesticity. She couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, she’d felt so comfortable with a man, especially one who did such dangerous things to her nervous system. Armand Magliore was not only the sexiest, most compelling man she’d ever known, but he was also charming, intelligent and unselfish, with a wicked sense of humor that offset some of his brooding intensity. The more time Lia spent with him, the more she wanted to learn about him—beyond what was reported in his dossier. Although a nagging voice in the back of her mind warned her that getting to know Magliore wasn’t part of her mission, as the day wore on, she found it harder and harder to maintain her professional distance.
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