Escapade

by Lisa Marie Rice

  Her baby.

  She sat in front of the monitor and took a picture of herself, full face and in profile, left and right, entered the data and let her little program work its magic. Glancing up at him, she said, “I imagine you have access to the security cameras in the building, am I correct?”

  A man like this, running a company like his, would not let the building guards run the security without oversight.

  He hesitated and she waited patiently. Probably hacking into Sparrow Square’s security camera system was illegal. Or immoral. Or irregular. Or something. What did she care?

  He reached out to her keyboard and entered some code and, ah yes. There it was. A screen full of small tiles, each tile showing one section of Sparrow Square. The main entrance, the reception desk, the restaurants, corridors. “Which is our corridor?”

  Bennett clicked on her keyboard until a corridor that looked exactly like all the other ones showed up, then was enlarged so that it filled the screen.

  The corridor was empty. Well, yeah. Sparrow Square was made for businesspeople who wanted a home away from home. It was ten in the morning. The stay-in-beds would still be in bed, the workaholics were at work.

  She stood and turned her laptop so he could see the screen. “Stay here, in front of my laptop. I’ll be right back. I’ll be in the corridor and you’ll be able to see me the entire time. Or … not.”

  He glanced at her without moving his head, face turned to the monitor. “Okay.”

  Elle exited the apartment and walked slowly down the long corridor toward the elevator, touched it, and walked back. Like a lap, only not in a pool. Before she had a chance to knock at the door, it opened and there he was, Bennett, dark eyes lit up. Looking at her as if she were a magician. “I can’t believe what I just saw!”

  She smiled up at him. “Let me guess. My face was fuzzy, broken up with vertical lines or horizontal lines. Not clear at all and not recognizable as me.”

  “Bingo. I can’t believe you did that. You’re a genius.”

  She smiled smugly. “I know.”

  And he kissed her.

  Bennett’s head did that sputtering thing her head had done on the monitor, like wires crossed. His head fizzled and flickered and sparked. Just like that, from his lips touching hers.

  He was having a big big moment of cognitive dissonance, because kissing a principal was wrong on a million different levels and yet here he was, kissing Elle Castle like he was a man dying of thirst in the desert and he’d happened on an oasis.

  It’s not like he was kiss-starved or anything. Fuck no. He’d had sex … when was it? Not too long ago, with what’s-her-name. The banker with the shark smile, who lectured him for an hour over dinner on interest rates.

  But that was nothing like this. Fucking the banker was way less exciting than kissing Elle. She just sparkled with intelligence and life. That was when he was keeping his distance from her. And now kissing her … oh man.

  Short circuit.

  She was wriggling in his arms and like some distant scout frantically trying to signal that the enemy was on the horizon, his brain picked up on the fact that something was wrong. He loosened his hold — though it was the last thing he wanted to do — and she brought her arms up and wrapped them tightly around his neck.

  Oh. She wanted to get closer, not get away.

  These thoughts were vague and fleeting. What was front and center in his mind was how goddamned good she felt in his arms. How soft her lips were, her skin, how good she smelled. This was pleasure on some unknown scale, completely …

  Their lips parted for a second while he angled his head for a better taste of her. But that second was just enough to break the electrical charge. He pulled his head back, closed his eyes. “We can’t do this,” he said, his voice rough. “It’s … wrong.”

  He opened his eyes and saw her frown. Wrong. Wrong was the wrong word. The rusty cogs in his head creaked as they slowly turned. “Not wrong. Inappropriate.”

  She was still frowning so maybe inappropriate wasn’t the right word either. He’d just exhausted the words file in his head so he kissed her again.

  She kissed him back. Oh God, every time his tongue touched hers he felt a little electric shock. He walked her back one step, two, until her back hit the wall, and just dove in. His hands tunneled through that shiny black hair and cupped her head, holding her still for his kiss.

  His mouth traveled from hers, down over the sharp jawline to her long pale neck. He kissed her skin, licked it. God, she tasted absolutely delicious, like salty vanilla ice cream, so good he just had to take a bite. He gave her a tiny little nip, ending in a kiss right over the same spot and felt her give a little shudder.

  Oh, yeah. She was sensitive there. And behind her ear. A nip there made her jump a little. A lick made her moan.

  She was so responsive. He could feel what she was feeling. When he licked her neck he could feel the beat of her heart, fast and light. His hand smoothed over her shoulder, down over her left breast and he could feel her heartbeat there, harder and faster. He cupped her breast, rubbed his thumb over a hard nipple, and felt her excitement in her mouth as she exhaled on a moan.

  Everything she did excited him while he went on an exploratory journey to see and feel what pleased her. She held all the power here, he was just along for the ride, because it all pleased him. Everything about her, the texture of her skin, the warmth of her mouth, it was all hot pleasure.

  It took every ounce of self control he had to lift his mouth from her skin, though he wanted his mouth everywhere on her body. He wanted her naked and under him and because he wanted that really badly, he stopped, and breathed in her scent, trying to come back into himself.

  Bennett held her close, one hand cupping her head as it lay against his shoulder. Fuck yeah, it was inappropriate, but man, it felt good.

  He didn’t know how long they stood there. He could have stood there forever. But she finally gave a sigh and moved her head, looking up at him.

  “Inappropriate?” she asked, arching one eyebrow.

  Bennett shrugged. “Yeah. I’m supposed to protect you, not kiss you. As a matter of fact, I should fire myself.”

  “Are the two mutually exclusive? I mean, are you less likely to protect me now that we’ve kissed?”

  “No. But it’s unprofessional to get personally involved with a principal, with someone you’re protecting. Throws your instincts off.”

  Her eyes searched his while she pondered this, frowning. Since she was thinking, he could look into her eyes without being creepy because man, they were the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. Such an unusual color …

  “Do you wear contacts?” he blurted, the cogs in his head still in their rusty state, creaking restlessly.

  “No.” She frowned again. “You have a very erratic thought process.”

  No, he didn’t. He was as linear as a ruler, normally. It was Elle Castle who threw him off his stride. But he couldn’t say that. She couldn’t help it if she was beautiful and fascinating.

  With enormous difficulty, Bennett grabbed hold of the remnants of self control he had left while releasing Elle. Releasing Elle was harder than he thought it would be and he found he had to actually step back, out of arm’s length.

  Elle put her fists on her hips. “Well?”

  He stared at her. “Well, what?”

  She frowned again and he realized she was doubting his intelligence. Or sanity. Or maybe both.

  “Well, do we have an agreement or not?”

  “What?” Bennett willed those rusty cogs into motion.

  Elle gave a very unladylike snort. “We agreed that if I proved I could get to the pool for a swim anonymously, you’d let me go. You saw what my program did. No one would recognize me from that security tape.”

  Everything in his head fired back up, like the warp drive coming back online. He could think again. Though he had to wonder whether he’d gone temporarily insane, because he nodded. “Okay. You made your po
int. I’ll accompany you down to the pool.”

  “Great. I’ll be out right away.” She gave him a smile so dazzling he almost stepped back again, and disappeared into the bedroom. Unlike most women she was really fast and came back out almost immediately.

  He had to work to get his brain in alignment with his tongue.

  Some instinct told him not to make any comments on how beautiful she looked but man … She had ordered a sleek dark blue racer’s swimsuit, and was holding a cream cap in one hand. A thought was making its way slowly through his head, some kind of disconnect between her standing there in a one-piece bathing suit and walking down to the swimming pool wearing only that.

  Before he could say anything, she snatched up a towel and terrycloth robe and shuffled into flip-flops. He looked down at the flip-flops and thought—even her goddamn feet are beautiful.

  She was covered up. Thank God. Some primitive part of him was not happy at the thought of her walking through Sparrow Square in a bathing suit. She was just too … too … too.

  Swim goggles dangled from a finger as she looked at him questioningly. “You’re not going to swim?”

  He had an answer for that. “Nope. I’m going to watch over you.” He’d kissed her and that was already breaking protocol. Stripping down to swim briefs without a weapon, in the water, at a total disadvantage if anyone attacked them … not going to happen.

  She thought that over. “Okay. I’m sorry, it would have been fun to have a swim together.” She cocked her head as a thought occurred to her. “You can swim, though, right?”

  Bennett had been a Navy SEAL for seven years and would have continued if an ear injury hadn’t made it impossible for him to go deep sea diving. He’d been drown-proofed — his instructors had thrown him into the deep end of a pool with hands and feet bound — and he’d survived. Every night they’d swum five miles in the dark freezing Pacific. He could swim underwater for fifty meters.

  He deliberately didn’t smile. “Yes, I can swim.” He put a hand to her back. “Now let’s go.”

  She didn’t swim like a SEAL — that powerful sideways combat stroke that ate up the distance while churning the water as little as possible. No, she swam like a mermaid, gliding through the water with ease.

  Bennett made himself comfortable on one of the expensive lounge chairs and watched her do her laps. It was his duty but it definitely wasn’t a burden. They were alone in the pool, and he’d ensured that they’d stay alone by tying together the handles of the entrance with zip ties. Zip ties, together with C-4 and his Glock, were staples in his business. He didn’t have any C-4 with him but he sure as hell had his Glock.

  Being at the pool wasn’t a hardship, either. It had been redesigned lately — his company had received notification of an increase in condo costs — and they’d gone back to a 1930s look. What the letter from the Sparrow Square administrators and Elle called Art Deco. Intense colors, big terracotta vases with thriving plants, scalloped edges everywhere. Comfortable chairs.

  The entire huge room was visible at a glance. And if anyone tried anything, he had the Glock in a black shoulder holster that was invisible under his black jacket, and a sharp knife in his boot. He’d have to cut the plasticuffs holding the doors together without Elle noticing.

  So. He could sit more or less assured that he and his principal were safe and simply enjoy the view. Elle gliding through the water, back and forth, back and forth, as regular as a metronome. In his head, he knew the usual number of laps a normal, fit person would take and she was reaching that point. He readied himself to get up and hand her the big towel.

  Actually, what he’d really like to do was wrap her in the towel, rubbing those slim, sleek muscles all over, then kiss her senseless. Actually, though, he was the senseless one, because kissing a principal was such a huge no-no it was almost unthinkable and yet all he could think about was doing it again.

  But she wasn’t slowing down. She just kept on, turning the water silver in her wake and as she continued her laps, way beyond the number for a normal workout, he realized what this was. He’d done it himself, numerous times. This morning in fact. She was easing her stress with exercise, the best stress release in the world.

  Elle was being brave and remarkably cheerful about what was in essence a hole punched through her life, with no end in sight. God only knew how long it would take her asshole father to make up the money he’d lost. Being with Elle was anything but a hardship, but he was being paid while her entire life was on hold.

  Halfway through the lap she veered toward him, clinging to the edge of the pool. She pushed her swim goggles up. She’d been swimming flat out for forty minutes and wasn’t winded.

  “Are we good? Do we need to get back?” She was trying to keep the anxiety out of her voice. Man, he understood. She felt free in the water.

  Bennett crouched down and touched her hand. “Take as long as you want,” he said gently. If anyone tried to come in while Elle was working through her stress, he’d just shoot them. “No problem.”

  She smiled, put her goggles back on, dipped below the surface and took off again. She swam for another half hour and was a tiny bit winded when she finally climbed the ladder out of the pool. Bennett was there, holding out the big towel. He wrapped it around her and because he wanted to wrap himself around her, he forced himself to step back.

  “Thanks.” She smiled up at him. “I really enjoyed that. And I really needed it. Thanks for letting me have my swim.”

  He understood completely. Bennett nodded. “You’re welcome.”

  She cocked her head. “And now you feed me, correct?”

  “Let’s see if we can find something for lunch that won’t harden your arteries. You’ve had a nice workout but it’s pointless protecting you if you’re going to drop dead of a heart attack.”

  She rolled her eyes as they reached the doors. “I’ll eat a salad, mom. Promise.”

  Elle disappeared into her room when they got back. Part of it was that she wanted to put the things she’d bought away neatly and start making this room her own. Part was staying away from Bennett.

  She took a shower and then dressed in one of the pastel-colored yoga outfits she’d bought because it was clear they weren’t going out. Sparrow Square had its own movie theater, apparently — two actually. One for first-run movies and the other for classic movies. Bennett would probably nix going to the movies, even if inside the complex. But the in-house entertainment system was vast and if she got bored she could order a movie for the huge flat-screen TV on the wall. There was a menu of movies and TV shows on the dresser and it was impressive. There were films in every language known to man and in every genre there was. But she didn’t want to watch a movie.

  She wasn’t bored but she was restless, even after an unusually long swim. Normally, swimming calmed her down if she was stressed or frustrated. She was both stressed and frustrated. Stressed because she was essentially in lockdown for an unspecified period of time and frustrated because she was in lockdown with the sexiest man she’d ever been near, who clearly thought that fraternizing with his protectee — no, his principal — was forbidden.

  The thing was — he was right.

  Them having an affair under these circumstances was inappropriate — his word — and stupid — her word. Though Bennett had set them up in iron-tight secure circumstances, shit happened. Shit happened all the time and they should stay vigilant.

  Ordinarily, she never had frustrated desire. She didn’t desire many men and those few she’d wanted had luckily wanted her right back. Elle never let sexual desire waylay her. It wasn’t a big element of her life, which is why what she felt for Bennett was like a punch in the stomach. And totally out of character.

  Apart from the sheer animal attraction — which was huge — the alarming thing was that she liked the man. He was appealing and smart. All those muscles and brains. It was heady. Elle was used to male intelligence linked to scrawniness and awkwardness.

  He just … blin
dsided her. He didn’t often smile but when he did — watch out. An actual dimple carved itself into one of his lean cheeks and she went weak-kneed. It was alarming, as if someone else had been lying dormant inside her body, waiting for the right guy to take over the controls.

  Like, right now. She emerged from her room just as he was setting the table. Tall and handsome and domesticated. And right under that domesticated surface was a warrior.

  Just look at him, she thought, as he finished setting the table, focused and efficient. She was sure he was just as focused and efficient when on the shooting range and in bed.

  Whoa. Where had that thought come from?

  He looked up from the table at her and it felt like she’d been punched hard. That dark gaze was powerful and penetrating, eyes slightly narrowed. It was as if he were walking around inside her head — and she sincerely hoped he couldn’t because she was thinking embarrassing thoughts.

  Those last few steps to the table were like walking through molasses, time stretching out as he watched her. Elle slid into her seat, grateful that she made it in time to salvage her dignity. Her knees were about ready to give out.

  Her hands trembled as she billowed out the huge heavy linen napkin and placed it on her lap.

  Bennett lifted one silver dome to uncover a soup tureen. “I took the liberty of ordering, I hope that’s ok. If there’s anything you don’t like, we can order something else.”

  His brow was furrowed and he spoke gravely, as if the thought of her not liking what he ordered was actually painful.

  She smiled. “I like good food, but I’m not fussy. Whatever it is, it smells good. What did you order?”

  He ladeled some soup into her bowl. “Spelt soup with a small salad. And I ordered BLTs for both of us, since you eat meat.”

  “Bacon isn’t meat,” she said, picking up her spoon. “It’s a necessity.”

  He made the most extraordinary sound. A little bit like a suppressed laugh, a little like a lion’s purr, and it was like a hand caressing her. Oh, man. She put a spoonful of the soup in her mouth before she used her mouth to say something embarrassing like — make that sound again. Or — touch me. Please.