Chapter 8
After Lia disappeared inside the cabin, Armand unleashed the brunt of his anger and frustration upon the grill. He cleaned and scrubbed the damn thing until it gleamed like new, fighting to control his raging libido as he worked.
He had kissed Lia.
After eight long, torturous years of dreaming about her and waking up in a cold sweat only to realize he might never see her again, he’d finally gotten his wish. He’d held her in his arms and he’d kissed her.
And she’d run from him, denying both of them what could have been the most spectacular night of their lives.
With a savage curse, Armand next attacked the dishes on the table. He’d been obsessed with Lia for so long, he’d almost convinced himself that the reality of holding and kissing her could never compare to his fantasies.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Remembering how it had felt to kiss her, to taste her lush, sweet lips and caress her warm, silky skin, Armand felt desire threatening to boil up inside him once again.
Although he’d spent the past year living in celibacy, Armand was no monk. He’d enjoyed his fair share of island beauties—women who were as appealing and diverse as the many different shades of his people.
Once upon a time, he’d even given serious thought to marrying the daughter of former president Francois Seligny. Nathalie was strong, beautiful and compassionate, and she’d loved Armand wholeheartedly. But as much as he cared for her and admired her father, Armand knew he could never belong to her as long as his dreams were haunted by visions of a beautiful young American with Gypsy eyes and a bewitching smile. Nathalie had known, too. Although he’d never told her or anyone else about Lia, Nathalie had sensed his unavailability. She’d often accused him of saving his heart for another woman, a creature of such mythic proportions mere mortals could never measure up to her, she’d said laughingly. But beneath her teasing remarks, Armand had always sensed her pain and disappointment, which made him feel guilty. He’d wanted to fall in love with her, wanted to forget his secret dreams about a woman he never expected to see again. But he couldn’t. When Nathalie and her family had left Muwaiti after burying President Seligny, Armand had known it was for the best. He’d hoped, in time, that Nathalie would find someone to spend the rest of her life with, someone who would love and cherish her the way she deserved.
As for him, he’d all but resigned himself to a future of obsessing over a beautiful mystery woman he could never hope to have.
And then one day, against all odds, she had come back into his life.
The more time Armand spent with Lia, the more convinced he became that she held the key to his destiny. And now that he’d finally had a taste of her, he had to have more.
When he’d finished clearing the dishes and straightening the deck, he went to take a shower—a freezing one—to cool the fire still raging in his blood. He wanted Lia so badly he ached, wanted her more than anything he’d wanted in years.
But as he stood beneath the cold spray of water, he began to realize that all was not lost. The passion he’d experienced that night with Lia had not been one-sided. Far from it. She’d responded to his kiss with an explosive hunger that rocked him back on his heels and took his breath away. No matter what she said or did from this point on, she could no longer pretend to be immune to him. He’d tasted her need, seen the passion in her eyes, felt her surrender in his arms.
He now knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Which meant there was hope.
One way or another, Armand was going to have her.
How could she have been so stupid?
Several hours later as she lay in bed, Lia was still berating herself for succumbing to temptation and kissing Magliore. She couldn’t believe she’d been so irresponsible, so downright reckless. Armand Magliore was her protectee, the man whose life had been entrusted to her. Locking lips with him did not fall under her scope of duties.
Cursing viciously under her breath, Lia punched her pillow in frustration and flipped over, onto her back. Clasping her hands behind her head, she glared up at the darkened ceiling in angry disgust.
She had always prided herself on being a consummate professional. But there was nothing remotely professional about the way she’d behaved that evening. As if dancing with Magliore hadn’t been inappropriate enough, she’d had to go and kiss him!
What the hell had she been thinking?
That’s easy, her conscience mocked bitterly. You were thinking about his soulful bedroom eyes, his sexy mouth, his deep, mesmerizing voice. You were thinking about the way his big, powerful hands would feel caressing your body, and the way his soft, sensuous lips would feel against yours. You were thinking about everything but doing your damn job.
Lia groaned as a fresh wave of shame engulfed her.
For all her lecturing and pontificating about the importance of maintaining boundaries, she’d gone and done something crazy like this. Cosgrove and the other agents hadn’t even been gone an entire day. The moment she and Magliore were completely alone, her resolve to keep him at arm’s length had flown right out the window, along with her common sense.
Lia wished she could blame her lack of self-control on too much alcohol, but she knew better. She’d only had half a bottle of beer and one glass of wine, hardly enough to impair her judgment. When all was said and done, she had no one but herself to blame for what had happened that evening. Magliore hadn’t forced himself upon her. She could have refused to dance with him, and she definitely could have stopped him from kissing her. But she hadn’t. She’d allowed him to kiss her because she was incredibly attracted to him, and had been from the moment they’d met. If she was completely honest with herself, she would admit that she’d wanted this, wanted him, ever since she had pulled off his mask back at the cabin in Muwaiti. One look at his mouth and she’d known that kissing him would be an unforgettable experience.
At the memory of his hot, plundering kiss, a wanton pleasure settled between Lia’s thighs and brought another low groan to her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly in a desperate attempt to block out the forbidden images, but it was no use. She couldn’t get that mind-blowing kiss out of her mind. She’d never experienced anything like it before, although, admittedly, her experience with men was woefully limited.
Her ability to read minds had always made the dating scene something of a challenge—even more so than for other women. What could be worse, Lia had often thought, than knowing the guy she was kissing was either thinking about the basketball game he was missing, or calculating how quickly he could get her clothes off?
Lia had often been so turned off by her dates’ thoughts that they hadn’t progressed beyond kissing. And no man had ever come close to making her feel the way Armand Magliore did.
She snatched her pillow off the bed and buried her face in it to muffle the loud, agonized groan that erupted from her mouth.
For the first time in her career—hell, in her life—Lia considered the possibility that she was in over her head. With ruthless mercenaries on the prowl, she couldn’t afford the distraction of becoming romantically involved with Magliore. She needed her wits about her, needed to be alert and ready to respond to any threat. But how was she supposed to put aside her powerful attraction to Magliore and carry out her responsibilities when she couldn’t stop aching for his touch, his next kiss?
She thought about calling Janikowski and asking to be reassigned. But what would Lia tell her? That the man she’d been assigned to protect was too damn sexy for his own good? For her own good? That Magliore wasn’t the one who needed protection—she was?
Lia could only imagine how her supervisor would respond to such an explanation, and it wouldn’t be good. Even if Janikowski granted her request to be reassigned—which was highly unlikely at this critical juncture—the damage to Lia’s reputation and career would be devastating. She’d be permanently branded as the agent who had allowed her ra
ging hormones to interfere with her ability to do her job. Everything she’d ever worked for and fought to establish for herself would be tarnished. And those who believed that women had no business working as agents in the Secret Service would feel vindicated.
And if, God forbid, something were to happen to Magliore because Lia failed to protect him, she would never forgive herself. Ever.
No, she told herself resolutely. She could not let that happen. She wouldn’t abandon her post. She had to see this through. Too much was at stake. Not only her career, but a man’s life—and the future of an entire country. If she continually reminded herself of just how much was riding on her shoulders, surely that would give her the strength to withstand any temptation that came her way.
Because when it came to resisting Armand Magliore and the seductive power he had over her, Lia knew she would need all the strength she could get.
Monday, September 8, 2008
0700 hours
Thurmont, Maryland
Day 4
“Rough night?” Armand murmured the next morning as he and Lia sat across the table from each other in the main lodge, where breakfast was being served. Although it was barely seven o’clock, nearly every table in the large dining room was occupied. The air hummed with clinking glasses and silverware and the low murmur of conversations.
Lia glanced up from her plate to meet his speculative gaze. “Not at all,” she said quickly—too quickly. “You?”
Armand gave her a slow, lazy grin. “I slept like a baby.”
“That’s good.” Her eyes dropped with a sweep of her long, black lashes. “I’m glad to hear it. I slept well, too.”
Liar, Armand thought, his grin deepening. Even if Lia hadn’t been sporting small bags under her eyes, he knew for a fact that she was lying through her pretty teeth about getting a good night’s rest. He’d heard her through the wall that connected their rooms, tossing and turning restlessly in bed before getting up to work out with her free weights. Sometime in the middle of the night, he’d been awakened by the sound of her prowling around the cabin, presumably under the guise of checking locks on the doors and windows. He’d drifted back to sleep with a satisfied smile on his face, basking in the knowledge that she was as rattled by the kiss they’d shared as he was.
Reaching for his cup of coffee, Armand continued conversationally, “It’s hard not to sleep like a baby at this place. All this clean mountain air, the peaceful sounds of nature. And those beds are amazing. Of course,” he added wryly, “anything beats sleeping on a cold, hard floor with nineteen other men—at least half of whom snored like pigs.”
“Mmm, hmm,” Lia murmured noncommittally, not glancing up from her plate. It was obvious she hadn’t heard a word he’d said.
Deciding to have a little fun with her, Armand said huskily, “The only thing that would make the nights more perfect is having a soft, warm body to cuddle up with. Don’t you agree?”
“Definitely.”
Armand waited a beat, watching as comprehension belatedly dawned on her face, causing a deep flush to crawl across her cheeks.
Mortified, her eyes flew to his face. Seeing his mischievous grin, she scowled. “Very funny.”
Armand chuckled. “I thought so. You’ve been silent and brooding all morning. I thought you could use a laugh.”
Frowning, she stirred cream and sugar into her previously untouched coffee. “I haven’t been brooding,” she grumbled.
“No? What do you call it then?”
She said nothing, carefully setting aside her spoon before lifting the cup of coffee to her mouth. She drank slowly, staring over his shoulder as she monitored traffic at the entrance to the dining room.
When they’d arrived for breakfast half an hour ago, she’d walked straight to a table in the rear corner and slid into the chair with its back to the wall, giving her a view of the whole room, just as she’d done yesterday morning. Force of habit, she’d admitted when Armand had commented on it. As a man who’d spent the last four years of his life looking over his shoulder for enemies, Armand had cultivated the same habit, the same need to keep a close eye on everything in his environment. But rather than claiming the chair beside Lia—which he hadn’t thought she would appreciate—he’d sat down across the table from her. Which meant he had nothing to stare at but the wall—and her.
Not that he was complaining.
Finishing his breakfast, Armand leaned back in his chair, stretched out one leg and contented himself with imagining Lia in something other than the blue-and-white pinstripe blouse and pleated gray slacks she wore. Something light and gauzy, he mused. Or tight and clingy, like those snug-fitting jeans she’d changed into yesterday when they went fishing. He imagined her hair loose and tousled, as if she had just risen from bed—his bed. He imagined her lips soft and wet from his kisses, her eyes half-closed and smoky with desire.
At that moment Lia met his gaze, then glanced away quickly when she saw the naked hunger in his eyes.
Needing an excuse to relieve the sudden straining at his zipper, Armand got up, stretched his arms above his head for a moment, then rounded the table and dropped into the chair beside hers.
Her entire body grew as taut as a wire. “What are you doing?” she demanded, staring at him as if he’d lost his mind.
He gave her an unfazed look. “Changing seats.”
“Yes, I can see that,” she snapped. “Why?”
He lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “I felt like it. Is that a problem?”
“There are only two of us at this table,” she ground out. “There’s no reason for both of us to sit on the same side.”
“Then why don’t you move?” Armand suggested.
“Because I was sitting here first!” When he grinned at her, she must have realized how juvenile she sounded. She made a strangled noise in her throat, then clamped her mouth shut and turned away.
After fuming for several moments, she said tersely, “You’re supposed to be keeping a low profile. Sitting with your back facing the room is the best way for you to do that.”
“The best way for me to keep a low profile,” Armand countered mildly, “is for us to eat all of our meals at the cabin. Alone.” He paused, searching her taut face. “But I don’t think you want that, do you, Miss Charles?”
Her eyes flickered before she jerked her gaze away. “Just try not to draw too much attention to yourself,” she muttered.
He grinned, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his long legs once again. “Just call me the Invisible Man.”
Lia snorted. “As if.”
“Meaning?”
“As if you could ever be invisible. I think every female head at that table whipped around when you walked into the room this morning.”
Armand smiled at her surly tone. “I didn’t notice,” he said honestly.
“Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that?”
He shrugged. “Believe whatever you want.”
“I intend to.”
As they lapsed into taut silence, Armand sipped his black coffee and idly surveyed his surroundings. The floor was thickly carpeted. Moose, elk and bear trophies were mounted on the pine walls alongside rustic wood-framed paintings that captured vintage scenes of the American West. In one corner of the room, a sedate fire crackled in the stone fireplace, warding off the morning chill in the mountain air. Several tables had been pushed together to accommodate a large group of army generals, their uniforms crisply pressed and their shoes polished to a high shine. Seated at several nearby tables were smaller, quieter groups comprised mostly of women—the secretaries and assistants, Armand assumed.
At that moment his gaze collided with a pair of dark, alluring eyes that belonged to an attractive caramel-toned woman in her early thirties. She had shoulder-length dark hair, and she wore a navy-blue pantsuit with a scooped neckline that hinted enticingly at ample cleavage. Her lips were painted a deep shade of red, curving in a bold, feline smile as she stared across the r
oom at Armand.
He inclined his head, winking at the woman before returning his attention to Lia. He watched for a few minutes as she absently picked at her omelet, which had to be cold by now.
“Is something wrong with your food?” he finally asked.
“No,” she murmured. “I’m just not that hungry.”
“Eat anyway.” When she arched a brow at his commanding tone, he added, “You need your strength in order to protect me, don’t you?”
It was the wrong thing to say.
Lia bristled, her nostrils flaring slightly. “I don’t recall asking you to remind me what I need in order to do my job, Magliore.”
Realizing that he’d inadvertently struck a raw nerve, Armand pushed out a long, deep breath. “Look, if this is about last night—”
Lia flinched. “It’s not,” she said stiffly. “And if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not talk about last night.”
Armand frowned. “You’d rather pretend it didn’t happen?”
She inhaled a sharp breath and glared at him. “I’m not pretending anything. I’d just prefer not to rehash it. It happened, it was a mistake, now let’s move on.”
Anger stirred in his chest at her dismissive words. “What if I don’t want to move on?” he challenged in a deceptively soft voice. “What if I can’t?”
“That’s too bad!” Belatedly remembering that they were not alone, Lia lowered her voice to a conciliatory murmur. “Look, what we did yesterday was a big mistake. I shouldn’t have crossed the line with you like that. I’m sorry for giving you mixed signals. Believe me, if I could undo what happened—”
“You wouldn’t.”
She blinked. “Wouldn’t what?”
“You wouldn’t undo what happened. And do you know why?” As Armand leaned toward her, he felt a perverse twinge of satisfaction when he saw her eyes widen, heard her breath quicken. Bringing his lips close to her ear, so that anyone watching them would think he was merely sharing a joke, he said silkily, “You wouldn’t change a damn thing about that kiss, because you enjoyed it as much as I did. I know it, and you know it. So please don’t insult my intelligence by suggesting otherwise.”
Secret Agent Seduction Page 10