Secret Agent Dad

by Metsy Hingle

  Here in the dark it didn’t seem to matter that he didn’t remember who he was or where he was from. It didn’t seem wrong for her to touch him, to let him touch her. Here in the dark she could almost believe that Blake really did want her, that she might just be special enough. Here in the dark she felt less vulnerable, and less likely to disappoint.

  Protected by the darkness, she felt daring and gave in to the urge to touch him and explore him as she’d longed to do. Remembering the sight of him earlier, bare from the waist up, the sheen of perspiration glistening on bronze sinew and muscles, Josie’s fingers traveled from his face to his strong, wide shoulders, to his chest. His heartbeat raced beneath her fingertips, an echo of her own frantically beating heart. Encouraged, she slid her hand down to his stomach. The muscles there tightened, and she heard him suck in a breath. Then she moved lower.

  Blake swore and captured her wrist. “Not a good idea, angel,” he all but growled.

  Embarrassed, Josie tried to jerk her hand free, but Blake’s fingers remained locked around her wrist. She wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and hide. Thank heavens for the darkness, she thought, grateful that he couldn’t see her face. Even more grateful that she couldn’t see his. Oh, God! What was I thinking of? What must he think of me—groping him like that?

  He’ll think you’re a sex-starved widow.

  Cringing at the cliché, a mewl of distress slipped past her lips and echoed in the silence. She tried to tug her hand free again, only to find herself trapped in his viselike grip.

  “I’m sorry,” he told her, his voice gentling.

  “Let me go, Blake. Please.”

  “Not until you let me explain.”

  “There’s nothing to explain.” Nothing he could say would excuse her actions. Considering what a disaster she’d been in bed with Ben, her practically engaging in sex on the kitchen floor with Blake was almost laughable. Only she didn’t feel like laughing. Tears burned behind her eyelids, but she refused to let them fall—not until she was alone. She finished straightening her clothes with her free hand and tugged her imprisoned hand again. “I need to go turn on the auxiliary generator,” she told him as calmly as she could.

  “The generator can wait.”

  “What if the babies wake up? They’ll be frightened.”

  He hesitated, then released her wrist, but he continued to block her path with his body. “I’m sorry. I never meant for things to go so far.”

  His apology stung, but pride made her tip up her chin. “It doesn’t matter. Please, I have to get my flashlight and go see about the generator.”

  His night vision was apparently better than hers because he had no trouble countering her move to step past him. His fingers touched her chin, tilted her face toward him. Lightning flashed through the window, giving her a glimpse of his stern expression. “I want you, angel. Make no mistake about that. If the power hadn’t gone off and snapped me to my senses, I wouldn’t have been able to stop. I would have taken you right here against this damn counter.”

  She remained silent, wanting to believe him, afraid to believe him. “Forget about it. I told you, it’s no big deal.”

  “It is a big deal, dammit! I came at you like...like an animal. I had no right to treat you that way. You deserve better than that.”

  Taken aback by his self-directed anger, she swallowed hard and told herself not to read anything into it. Blake had been right when he’d accused her of looking at things through rose-colored glasses. Just because she was in love with him didn’t mean he felt the same way. Her knees went weak at the admission. Oh, God! How could she have let this happen? He wasn’t for her. She’d known it right from the start. So why had she done something so dumb?

  The answer was simple. The man had been sneaking into her heart right from the start, calling her angel, demanding that she kiss his bumps and bruises. She’d taken him in like she would any wild stray, knowing full well the man was dangerous, that he might turn on her at any second. But he’d needed her and wanted her, and when he kissed her, she could almost believe he thought she was... special.

  Don’t do that to yourself, Josie girl. The next thing you know, you’ll start hearing wedding bells and thinking the two of you and the twins will live happily ever after. Do you really want to set yourself up for that kind of heartache? Men like Blake just don’t fall in love with ordinary wrens like you. Where’s your pride?

  Evidently her pride had been washed away in the storm of Blake’s kisses right along with her common sense. Mustering up what little pride she had left, she prayed Blake didn’t know how hard she had fallen, that he didn’t know she was in love with him. It was pride that helped her keep her voice even as she said, “All right. So we got a little carried away. It’s understandable given the circumstances. No harm done. Nothing really happened.”

  At his angry silence, she continued, “Come on, Blake. I’m not some fragile, little rose who’s going to go into hysterics or expect any declarations from you just because of a few kisses.”

  “I’d say we went a little beyond kisses,” he said dryly.

  Josie nearly choked at the reminder. “So we did,” she conceded. “Like I said, no harm done as far as I’m concerned. But if you still feel the need to apologize, then go ahead. Just get it over with so that I can go turn on the generator.”

  For a moment she thought he was going to argue further. Instead he said, “All right. Maybe I am overreacting. Like you said, nothing really happened.”

  A fist closed around Josie’s heart, squeezed painfully and surprised her at how much it hurt.

  “This time,” he added, the words hanging in the air like a threat, like a promise.

  Suddenly she needed to escape, to be anywhere but so close to him. “I keep a flashlight in the kitchen drawer. I’ll get it and go see about the generator.” Hurrying past him, she felt her way along the countertop to the drawers, pulled open the top one and closed her fingers around the cylindrical shape. “Got it,” she said and flicked on the switch. Without looking at him, she started for the door. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  His hand closed over her shoulder. “You stay inside where it’s dry. I’ll go.”

  Her eyes darted to his face in the shadowed light. “But—”

  “I said I’ll go,” Blake insisted, taking the flashlight from her. “I know where the generator is. I saw it in the shed when I was searching for tools.” After lighting the candles on the table, he pulled open the kitchen door and stepped out into the storm.

  Blake welcomed the slap of cold and rain that greeted him as he descended the stairs of the farmhouse. Frustration and unsatisfied desire churned inside him as he trudged his way through water nearly two feet deep to reach the shed out back. He hadn’t meant to hurt Josie, but he knew in his gut that he had. He’d wanted her, desperately wanted to lose himself in her sweetness and warmth, to take what she had offered him. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t a man who led a life that deserved sweetness and warmth—especially not from a woman like Josie.

  Yanking open the door of the shed, he aimed the flashlight inside. The beam sliced through the inky blackness of the barnlike structure. The place was cold, empty. Shadows lurked in every corner. Sort of like him, he thought as he spotted the generator high and dry on the cement blocks and headed toward it. After several attempts, the thing started. Satisfied with the humming sound, he headed back outdoors.

  One glance at the house told him the electricity had been restored. He stood in the cold with the rain beating down on him and stared at the light spilling from the kitchen windows, promising warmth and refuge. He spied a silhouette of Josie pacing the floor, patting the back of one of the babies. The sight moved him, tugged at something deep inside him, made him want to be a part of the scene.

  But something nagged at the back of his memory, told him he could never be part of such a scene. He turned away from the beckoning light of the house to stare out into the darkness. Some instinct told him
that it was to the lonely darkness that he belonged. The wind whipped at his face, and he remembered another time when a different kind of wind had lashed at his face....

  The wind whipped around him, stung his eyes as he struggled to free the grappling line that had snagged on the wall’s pike.

  “You fool!” The figure with the evil eyes shot his own man, then aimed the gun at Blake.

  Blake cut the line hooked to his belt and jumped to the rocky path below. Pain exploded in his shoulder, but he scrambled to his feet and headed in the direction of the beach. One minute. He had one a minute left to get to the boat.

  “Don’t let him get away you imbeciles! Get him!”

  Three soldiers started down the wall after him. Blake hit the beach at a run. His lungs burned. His shoulder ached, but he could see the water churning from the boat’s engines, and ran harder.

  “Hurry, mon arm! Hurry!”

  A bullet zinged past, just missing his head. “Damn!” Blake dove into the water and started swimming to the boat. He heard someone hit the water behind him, knew they were close, but he didn’t waste energy or breath to look back.

  “Blake! ”

  He caught hold of the line thrown to him, and started hoisting himself aboard. He’d be an easy target, but there was no help for it. The man on the boat aimed his gun and fired behind Blake. A man cried out, and Blake heard the splash below him. Pulling himself up over the side, he fell into the boat. Gasping, he ordered, “Go!”

  The soot-faced man reminded him of a pirate as he sent the vessel flying across the water. “That was close, my friend, ” he said, his accent even more pronounced than usual. “What took you so long? I thought you had gone back to pay a visit to the pretty mademoiselle who helped you get into the palace. I almost left without you.”

  “You should have. You’re lucky I don’t cut your black heart out for not following my orders. You were only supposed to wait ten minutes. No more. Another minute and they would have caught you. ”

  “Those dogs could not catch Jean-Luc. ”

  Ignoring the fire in his shoulder, Blake snatched up the binoculars that rested near the Frenchman. He looked toward the shore. “Well, Jean-Luc, old buddy. We’re about to find out if you’re right. Those dogs, as you call them, have two boats in the water, and they’re moving in on us fast.”

  Jean-Luc’s eyes gleamed. “Let the dogs come, ” he said arrogantly, reaching for the boat’s throttle. “As you Americans say, watch them eat my dust. ”

  Just what in the hell had he been involved in? Blake wondered. And whatever he’d been doing, would it come back to haunt Josie or the twins?

  A door opened behind him, sending light spilling into the night and shutting off the questions running through his head. “Blake? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll be inside in a minute.”

  “What are you doing, standing out there in the rain? It’s freezing.”

  “I just needed some air. You go on to bed.”

  He heard the door shut, and satisfied she had done as he’d suggested, he contemplated that conversation again. Once more the questions raced through his head. Who was he? What was he involved in? Were Josie and the twins in danger because of him?

  He was so deep in thought and lulled by the sound of rain and wind that he didn’t hear Josie move beside him until she tugged on his sleeve. “What’s the matter with you?” she demanded.

  “What in the devil—”

  “Is nearly getting killed once this week not enough for you? Now you want to try to catch your death of cold by standing out here in the freezing rain?”

  “Dammit, Josie. Don’t you ever listen? I told you to go to bed.”

  She poked out that stubborn chin of hers. Her eyes flashed green fire. “Did you hit your head again? You must have, if you think I take orders from you.”

  The rain fell steadily, streaming down her face. “Would you please go back inside, and get out of the rain?”

  “Not unless you come with me.”

  Blake swore. Lord; but the woman was as stubborn as a mule. Her teeth were chattering, and she hadn’t even had the good sense to put on a heavy coat before coming out. “Go away. I want to be alone.”

  “Tough.”

  He stared at her, noted that her skin was pale as milk, delicate. Her hair streamed down the sides of her face like a curtain of wet black silk. Raindrops clung to her lashes, framing those defiant green eyes. God, she looked magnificent—proud, regal, tempting. He thought of the first time he’d seen her and had mistaken her for an angel. Only now he knew what this angel tasted like, the way her body would heat under his touch, the little noise she made when he kissed her. His gaze dropped to her mouth.

  “Blake?”

  This was insane. He was insane, Blake told himself. He didn’t know who he was or what he was involved in. It was dark. It was raining. The temperatures had dipped into the thirties. And here he was, standing outside in the cold rain in water that reached his shins, and he didn’t think he could make it back to the house, wasn’t even sure he could draw another breath, unless he kissed her. He caught Josie around the waist, fitted her between his thighs. “Put your arms around my neck, angel.”

  Evidently she was just as crazy as he was, because she slid her hands up his shoulders, roped her arms around his neck. And then he kissed her. Softly, gently, he rubbed his wet mouth against hers. She made that sound, part whimper, part demand, and he felt himself start to slip. Trying to resist, to maintain control, he lifted his head. Her lips parted on a sigh. The soft sound ensnared him like a trap, and he swooped back down to her mouth. Her lips parted instantly. And he didn’t seem to be able to stop himself from sliding his tongue inside to taste her, to allow her sweetness to warm away the cold dread that seemed to go all the way to his soul. He slid his hands down, cupped her bottom, fitted her to him.

  Need stampeded through him. His heart raced like a runaway train. Realizing he was dangerously close to pulling them both down right there in the mud and making love to her, Blake forced himself to move his hands up to her shoulders and set her away from him. One look at her face, the dazed, hungry look in her eyes, and he nearly faltered. Bu he made himself tuck his arm around her shoulders, and let her back to the house.

  Just inside the door, they shed boots and jackets in silence “Give me your things, and I’ll take them to the laund room,” Blake offered. When she shuddered, he said, “Why don’t you go take a hot bath and warm up? I’ll take care o the clothes.”

  Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she hesitated moment. Her eyes, filled with questions, with wanting, lifted to his. “A bath sounds good,” she confessed. “You sure you don’t mind?”

  “No. You go ahead. I’ll rinse up in the sink in the laundry room.” Without waiting for her reply, he headed toward the other end of the house.

  Way to go, pal. Nothing like giving the lady mixed signals

  He was a real jerk, Blake told himself, dragging off he jeans. He threw them into the sink. Nothing had changed the past hour—except that he wanted Josie more now that he had before. He had no business putting stars in her eyes—and there had definitely been stars. He’d seen them. And he knew dam well that he was the cause. Swearing, he stripperr off his shirt. Despite that cursed independent streak and the fact that she’d been married, the woman was as innocent a they came. She was too damned softhearted for her own good. He didn’t want to be the one to bruise that heart.

  But he would.

  She wanted him. And heaven help him, he wanted to take what she offered. But until he found some answers, hee couldn‘t—not when he didn’t have even a last name or a identity to share in return. And from what he’d been able too piece together from the flashbacks, he had a sick feeling tha once he did have those answers, nothing would change. He would still have far too little to offer her.

  Twenty minutes later when he heard the bathroom doo open, Blake slammed his eyes shut and feig
ned sleep. His rearing was sharp, but he barely heard her footsteps as she entered the den, where he’d adopted the couch as his bed. But, Lord, he could smell her. He could live to be a hundred, and he didn’t think he’d ever forget the way Josie smelled—hat soft scent of a new rose opening right after a spring rain.

  “Blake? Blake, are you asleep?”

  Concentrating on keeping his breathing even, he remained silent and took care not to so much as twitch a muscle, when what he wanted was to draw her down beside him.

  “Blake?”

  She stroked her fingers over his head, her caress as gentle as the brush of a butterfly’s wings. But he felt her touch in every nerve of his body. She sighed softly, then turned and walked away.

  The light clicked off a few seconds later, and she was gone. For a long time he lay there, staring into the darkness, hinking about Josie, about the twins, about the disturbing lashbacks of him scaling a palace wall, looking into those dark evil eyes and firing his gun. His head ached from the questions that he couldn’t find answers to, so he willed himself to think of pleasant things. He thought of Josie...of the way she felt in his arms, the way she responded to his touch, the way she looked so right holding the babies. His eyes grew heavy as he remembered how much he had wanted to be a part of that scene tonight with her and the twins inside the house. When sleep finally claimed him, he dreamed again, md as he dreamed, he could hear his own voice drifting back to him....

  “Married? You’ve got to be kidding. Hank and Sterling both married? How the hell did that happen?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure they know, either,” the man on the other end of the phone line said. “All I know is that Hank up and marries his young, new secretary, and then out of the blue Sterling up and marries Susan Wilkins.”