by Burton, Jaci
Despite Spence’s surly attitude, she was going to look upon this as an adventure. Even if she had to ignore the rider in front of her. She climbed on behind him, situated herself, and leaned against the backrest. He fired up the engine and she felt a thrill at the hum and vibration of all that power underneath her. She couldn’t hold back her grin as they pulled out of the garage and started down the road, though at a slow pace.
She really got a rush once they hit the highway, and Spence let out the throttle. She leaned back, the wind rushing by her, Spence moving in and out of the congestion of traffic with ease. It was incredibly freeing and as soon as they left Dallas city limits and cruised their way toward New Orleans, she was in total relaxation mode. Riding was a slice of heaven, and Spence seemed completely at home on the bike. Sitting behind him meant she could study him without him watching her, so she looked her fill. On a Harley, he fit well, like he and the bike were in sync. His ability to master the machine gave her confidence to relax and enjoy the ride.
They stopped for lunch in Alexandria, Louisiana, a bit more than halfway to New Orleans. Shadoe was eager to get off the bike by then. Though she’d had a great ride, it had been too long. She wasn’t used to it, and her butt was sore.
Unfortunately, Spence said he didn’t want to linger, just stop long enough to grab a bite, refuel the bike, and move back onto the road.
Yeah, right. She stretched out lunch as long as she could. She ordered a salad along with her meal, then perused the dessert menu, which caused Spence to shoot a glare across the table.
He could glare as much as he wanted. She was resting her butt.
She knew she couldn’t put off the inevitable forever, though, and she passed on dessert, finished her drink, and used the bathroom. Then it was back on the road again. The break had helped though, so by the time they pulled into New Orleans she was okay. A little numb from the waist down, but she was excited to see the city, especially the infamous French Quarter and Bourbon Street.
Where they were hopefully going to see some action and bring down a criminal.
Spence pulled into the driveway and she got off, eager to stretch her sore muscles. “Why don’t you go get us checked in while I park the bike?” he suggested.
“Fine with me,” she said, refusing to allow him to see her limp through the doorway into the lobby. But damn, her butt was screaming in pain.
She ran into AJ and Pax in the lobby, who stopped only long enough to tell her that her and Spencer’s luggage was being stored at the desk, then scooted out the door, saying they were headed to a nearby bar. Well, good for them. She could use a drink, too. She went to the front desk and checked in, turned in the receipt AJ gave her for their bags, and they told her they’d bring the bags up to her room.
The hotel was nice. Comfortable, very French, ornate, but not ostentatious. She liked the wrought-iron everywhere, especially on the balcony in the room.
She loved the balcony, which looked down right over Bourbon Street. It would be a perfect spot to view all the partying going on every night. The lush greenery hanging from the overhead pots and woven throughout the railings gave a ton of privacy. One could do just about anything she wanted to in the dark on this balcony and not be seen.
Not that she’d be doing much of anything here, other than peering down at the people below. But if she were to do something, this would be a hot and sexy place to do it, a secluded balcony, her and her man engaged in some steamy sex up against the brick wall under the cover of darkness . . .
Ooh la la!
Of course she didn’t have a man in her life, and she was on an assignment, so her fantasy fizzled into the ether. With a heavy sigh she walked through the French doors and closed them, turned down the AC to cool the air in the room, and the bellman arrived with her things, so she unpacked and put everything away.
She thought about taking a shower, but stretched her back, then yawned. The bed was glorious and looked tempting, so she stretched out across it, realizing she was utterly exhausted. When Spence came up she’d figure out a plan of action with him. She just needed to close her eyes for a minute. Or two.
SPENCE HADN’T INTENDED TO PULL UP A CHAIR AND JUST WATCH Shadoe sleep.
But he also hadn’t expected to find her passed out facedown on the bed when he came in, either.
She had a really nice ass. It wasn’t his fault that was the first thing he noticed. The jeans molded to her sweetly rounded cheeks perfectly, and her butt was stuck up there for him to ogle.
He’d run into AJ and Pax after he parked the bike, so he spent a few minutes talking to them, then got the room number from the front desk and came up here to find Sleeping Beauty out cold on one of the beds. She still had her boots on. He wanted to slip them off.
Hell, he wanted to slip off a lot of her clothes.
His dick twitched just thinking about last night on the running path. He hadn’t intended to touch her, or kiss her. Getting involved with a mark as part of a case was one thing. Anything to get the job done.
He didn’t need to fuck Shadoe to get this job done. He needed to act as her lover, not be one. Big difference. He preferred keeping his distance if sex complicated things.
In this instance, sex would definitely complicate things. Shadoe had complex written all over her. She was from a world he couldn’t begin to fathom. She had a rich military daddy with connections high up in the government. One word from her and he’d be toast. He’d worked too damn hard to get where he was with the Wild Riders to risk losing it just because he got a hard-on over a woman.
There were plenty of other women he could get a hard-on over. Women not connected with a mission. Women he didn’t have to work with. Women who were safe and uncomplicated.
He liked those kinds of women. Party, fuck, no strings, move on. Just his type.
So why wasn’t he out finding one of those women right now, instead of sitting on an uncomfortable desk chair in this room, his feet propped up on the end of the bed, watching Shadoe sleep?
He should be bored.
He wasn’t. While she slept, he could watch her. She had an innocent, unguarded expression that softened the frown lines on her face. Her nose was small, her lips full but not too full—kissable, perfect. Pink and plump. He’d enjoyed kissing those lips last night.
Her skin was lightly tanned, but not too much that it looked fake. More like she spent time outside—running, probably. She had a great body that no doubt came from intense workouts due to her job. She was firm, but not skinny. He hated girls that were so thin their ribs poked out. Every time he saw one of those types of girls he wanted to grab her and stuff a cheeseburger down her throat. Shadoe actually ate. He liked that about her. She had an appetite, knew how to fuel her body. Which no doubt gave her the womanly curves that made his dick hard.
He shifted uncomfortably and adjusted his cock, which, despite his good intentions about finding any other woman but this one, wasn’t listening. Her hair had half fallen out of her ponytail, wisps of sable curls caressing her cheek. He itched to sweep them away and kiss the exposed part of her neck, then draw her tank top aside and spend some time getting to know her well-sculpted shoulder more intimately.
She had a nice back, too.
Shit. What was he doing taking inventory?
He was saved from any more excruciating realization of his own idiocy when she moaned and stretched. She rolled over onto her back and arched it as she raised her arms over her head, which pushed her breasts upward.
He fought the groan, and cursed his throbbing cock.
She lowered her arms and laid her hands over her stomach, then turned to face him, blinking sleepy eyes at him. She smiled.
“Sorry. I seem to have passed out.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“How long was I asleep?”
“About an hour.”
She yawned and sat up, then pulled the ponytail holder from her hair, using her hand to shake out the curls until they spilled over her shoulder
s. When she gave him a sideways glance, he sucked in a breath.
Her half-lidded, sleepy gaze, her hair falling over her shoulders and framing her face, were so damn sexy it was like a gut punch. From innocence asleep to sex vixen in two point two seconds flat.
Yeah, he did need to get laid. Because his thoughts about his partner were heading in dangerous directions. He couldn’t afford the distraction. His job was to hunt the rogue agent, and protect his partner.
He couldn’t protect her if he was fucking her.
He pushed away from the bed and stood, dragging his fingers through his hair. “We should go to the club tonight, make an appearance so you can meet everyone and we can get the layout of the place.”
She slid off the bed. “Great idea. I’ll go take a shower and get ready. And I’m starving.”
He nodded. “We can eat before we go.”
Anything to get out of the confines of this box that contained a bed and a beautiful woman.
Whose idea was it to share a room anyway? It wasn’t like anyone would check up on them to verify the story they were lovers. Damn Grange for being a stickler for cover accuracy. This was his fault.
At least the room had two queen-sized beds. Though Spence would have rather had a king to fit his large frame. His feet would probably hang off the bed.
He shook his head at that, realizing he’d slept in a lot of worse places than this fancy hotel with its too-small bed. He was getting spoiled in his old age.
He walked onto the balcony while he waited for Shadoe to take her shower.
Nice. Secluded, offering up privacy but with a voyeuristic angle. He liked that. You could do some fun things on this balcony.
If a guy was here to do fun things.
Which he wasn’t.
He heard the bathroom door open and turned to see Shadoe stepping out, followed by a wave of steam. She had a towel wrapped around her body.
He turned away and looked down over Bourbon Street instead, making a mental note to buy beer to toss into the mini fridge in the room. He could use a cold brew right now to lubricate his dry throat.
Or maybe a cold shower. Yeah, probably a better idea.
He waited for her to finish up in there, then grabbed clean clothes, slipped into the bathroom, and turned on the shower, trying not to think about the fact that Shadoe had just been in here. He cleaned up and got out of there in a hurry, then dried off and put on his jeans. The bathroom was stifling, so he opened the door and walked out.
Shadoe was at the small vanity putting on makeup. Her hair hung in damp, curling tendrils behind her back. He wanted to pick up one of the trailing curls and play with it, but instead walked past her to grab his shirt. She turned halfway to watch him.
He felt her gaze on his back and smiled.
“You have a tattoo,” she said.
“Yeah.” He lifted his arms to pull the shirt over his head.
“No, wait. I want to see it.”
In seconds, he felt warm hands skimming over the spot where the eagle had been tattooed. Her fingers arced over the outstretched wings.
He remembered the day he got the tattoo. He’d been told by Grange that he was going on his first assignment.
He’d made it. All that hard work, all his attitude finally shed—most of his attitude, anyway. He’d felt like he was free of his past.
“Why an eagle, and why flying like this?” she asked.
“Freedom.”
His life could have gone in so many different directions, none of them good. That day, he’d felt free. He had his entire life ahead of him, he was soaring, and it all looked like blue sky to him. The eagle had seemed perfect.
“It’s beautiful.” She still had her hands on him.
He wasn’t going to complain about that.
“Thanks.”
“Do you have any more tattoos?”
He finally turned around to face her. “No. Not yet. Do you?”
She grinned. “None. Yet.”
He cocked a brow. “Dying to get one, are you?”
“Actually, I’d love to. But I never know what kind of assignment I’ll have, and a tattoo might not be the best thing to show on an undercover case.”
“Put one where no one can see it.” He pulled his shirt on.
“Hmmm, now there’s an idea.”
“And what would you get?”
“I haven’t thought about it.” She went back to the vanity and picked up a makeup brush.
He studied her, cocking his head to the side to look over her body.
She finally turned her gaze to his. “What?”
“Just trying to figure out what tattoo would fit you.”
She laughed. “You don’t know me well enough to answer that.”
“You need a rose, but not a red one. It wouldn’t look right on your skin. Peach, maybe. Or even some sort of white flower. But you’re tough, too, so you’d need something hard to go along with that. Barbed wire, or a gun, maybe even a sword. Or a skull. A tattoo that says you’re a woman all right—soft and sweet-smelling—but tread light, or you could get your head blown off.”
She raised both brows. “Wow. Is that how you see me?”
He sat on the bed to slide on his boots. “That’s how I see you.”
“Huh.”
That was all she said. Her gaze lingered for a few minutes, before she turned back to the mirror to finish her makeup, then took clothes in the bathroom and got dressed.
Which was good, because he needed to shut the hell up before he inserted his entire booted foot into his mouth.
Designing tattoos for her now? Next he’d be writing poetry. Or singing love songs.
Christ.
Pretty pathetic for someone who planned on keeping his distance from his partner.
She wasn’t helping when she came out of the bathroom in a tight black leather miniskirt, black halter top, and thigh-high black boots with a stiletto heel. A thin silver chain wound around her neck, the end dangling between her breasts and disappearing into the low vee of the halter. She wore her hair loose, the curls falling around her shoulders and back. She wore more makeup than she usually did, her lips glossed up in pink, highlighting the mouth he’d kissed last night.
Making him remember. Making him want.
His cock woke up in a hurry. He knew he stared, but he couldn’t help it. Especially remembering the way she looked when he first met her. The difference was incredible. From buttoned up, plain and severe, to full-on sexy bombshell.
But that’s the persona she was supposed to portray—the sultry stripper—the kind of woman who could walk into a club and capture every man’s attention.
Dressed like that, looking like she did, she was definitely going to command attention. He grabbed his gun and slid it into the back waistband of his pants, then pulled on his jacket to cover it.
Shadoe noticed his actions and nodded, bending down to lift her skirt up.
He arched a brow, glad for the show. Her legs were bare, her thighs the most mouthwatering things he’d ever seen. She lifted the skirt a couple inches. Strapped to her hip was a sheath with a slender blade. She smoothed her skirt down and shot him a smile. “I’m packing, too.”
Was she ever.
“That’s fine for tonight, but when you’re up on the stage getting naked it’s going to be kind of hard to conceal a weapon.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, duh. I know that. Just tell me if you can see it.”
He looked at her with a critical eye. The skirt was tight, but it was leather so it didn’t cling to her body like another fabric might. “Unless you let someone dance with you and feel you up, I think you’ll be fine.”
“No one will get close to me. I have a bodyguard.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Besides, as my lover, you wouldn’t let another guy touch me, now would you?”
“Not a chance in hell that’s gonna happen.”
Her lips lifted in a satisfied smile.
“Let’s go. The club is a few block
s from here, so we’ll ride. Think you can hike that skirt up enough to straddle the bike?”
“I can manage just fine.”
He’d try not to think about all the skin she would show along the way.
They went downstairs and he brought the bike around, craning his head to watch as she held on to his shoulders, stepped on the peg, and swung her leg around the back, then settled on.
Sweet. Sexy. She wrapped her arms around him and nestled her breasts against his back. “All for show, of course.”
“Of course.” He gave the throttle a goose, letting the noise of the pipes vibrate through them both. She grinned, and he took off.
The ride was short, and Spence ached for a chance to really cut loose and take a ride out on the country. He wanted to see the bayou. He’d bet Shadoe would enjoy that, too.
But they weren’t there to have fun and see the sights. They had a job to do.
He parked the bike in front of the Wild Rose and Shadoe climbed off. There were a couple dozen guys hanging around out front, and all of them zeroed in on her as soon as she stepped up on the curb. Hungry gazes followed her into the club, especially when Spence made sure to state loud enough that “Desi,” their new headliner, had just arrived.
Since not just any stripper could walk into a club and be a headliner, Maria and Grange had provided the background for Desi as the upcoming newest thing on the circuit. With Maria’s connections and Grange providing ID and fake background, Desi the headliner was born.
Several of the loiterers outside followed behind Spence. He’d just bet they were thinking that Desi would be dancing tonight.
Sorry, guys. You’ll just have to come back tomorrow.
Though that thought didn’t make him happy, either.
Why he should care if she stripped in front of these guys, he didn’t know.
He didn’t care whom she took her clothes off for. Hopefully it would be a packed club. The more people who jammed in here, the easier it would be to blend in and do their jobs. Shadoe was there to focus attention on her. She needed to embed herself as a feature stripper, so that every man there would want to spend time with her, to talk with her, to pay to have a moment, a half hour, an hour or more with her.