Читать книгу Born of Passion - Carla Cassidy - Страница 8

Intoxicating.

Kyle Ramsey drew a deep breath, discerning the tang of lemon, delicate citrus blossoms and exotic spices among the many fragrances that rode the warm air that surrounded him.

Montebello. The sounds and smells of the Mediterranean island seemed to welcome him back as he grabbed his duffel bag and hopped into a taxi.

“The U.S. Embassy,” he said to the driver, then settled back in the seat.

It had been three months since he’d been here, and while on the surface Montebello showed no change, Kyle knew there had been changes…changes that threatened the fiber, the very heart, of the beautiful island.

He brushed at a tiny piece of lint on the sleeve of his naval uniform. He’d flown on a transport plane to Montebello and could have taken military transport to the embassy. But he’d opted for a taxi instead, needing time alone to think and to prepare himself for whatever responsibility lay ahead.

His commanding officer had been vague about Kyle’s exact mission when he’d given him the orders to return to Montebello. He’d simply explained that the ambassador in Montebello would fill Kyle in when he arrived.

“You’ve come to the prettiest island in the world,” the cabbie said, his dark eyes looking at Kyle through the rearview mirror.

“Have you been here long?” Kyle asked, recognizing a slight East Coast U.S. accent in the man’s voice.

“Ten years. Came out here to visit a friend for a week, but somehow I never left. This island is as bewitching as a beautiful woman. Once it gets you in its grasp, you never want to be released.”

The cabbie’s words instantly evoked a memory in Kyle’s mind—the memory of a single night with a local Montebello woman…a single night of the most mind-numbing, searing passion he’d ever experienced in his life.

They had met in a local bar, and she’d said her name was Marie. They’d spent the evening flirting outrageously with one another, performing an intense dance of courtship that had culminated in a nearby hotel room.

Although three months had passed since that crazy night, her bewitching image was still as sharply etched in his mind as it had been the first moment he’d spotted her.

Her dark brown hair had been a spill of silk to her shoulders. Her rich nut-brown eyes, with their sinfully long lashes, had flirted and danced. She’d had a heart-shaped face and full lips that had tantalized him.

Clad in a lacy white dress that emphasized not only her slender curves and long, shapely legs, but also the dark olive of her skin, she’d caught his eye the moment he’d walked into the place.

Their lovemaking had held an edge of wildness, as if they had indulged in foreplay for years instead of mere hours. When he’d finally fallen asleep with her in his arms, he’d had the feeling that for the first time in his thirty-one years, life was about to make some kind of sense.

In the morning she’d been gone, like a desert mirage that shimmered brightly in the sun, then vanished. He’d been shocked—bewildered—and surprisingly devastated.

He’d looked for her for two days, then had been called back to the States.

Now he was back in Montebello, but he didn’t expect to have time to dwell on thoughts of a dark-haired beauty who had turned his world upside down for a single night.

He sat up straighter as the U.S. Embassy came into view. The building itself was imposing with thick columns and steep steps leading to the grandiose building. An American flag on a tall pole fluttered in the breeze.

The driver pulled up in front, and Kyle paid him, then picked up his duffel bag and entered the embassy through the front doors.

A metal detector and a conveyor belt instantly confronted him. Both were a vivid reminder of the marvels of technology and the state of unrest around the world. And from what the rumor mill implied, nowhere was unrest more threatening than here in Montebello.

Tensions had risen between King Marcus Sebastiani of Montebello and Sheik Ahmed Kamal of the neighboring kingdom of Tamir. The tension had reached explosive proportions a month before when a bomb had detonated in a civilian square, destroying a restaurant and trapping people inside. The people of Montebello pointed fingers of blame to Kamal, furthering increasing tensions.

After walking through the metal detector, he had his identification checked and signed in for his appointment with Ambassador Nigel Templeton.

By the time Kyle had cleared security, an assistant had appeared to lead him to the ambassador’s office. “Joel Mayfield,” the young man said, and held his hand out to Kyle. He had the kind of crisp, clean attractiveness that all the people who worked at the embassy seemed to possess.

“Lieutenant Commander Kyle Ramsey,” Kyle replied, and firmly shook Joel’s hand. With the formalities out of the way, Joel led Kyle down a long hallway to a bank of elevators, past a number of offices buzzing with activity.

“I understand this isn’t your first trip to Montebello,” the assistant said as they stepped into the elevator and he punched the button for the fifth floor.

“That’s right. I was here several months ago,” Kyle replied.

“It’s a beautiful place, isn’t it?”

Kyle nodded, and again his head filled with the vision of the beautiful woman who had given him the most memorable night of his life. He could still recall her haunting fragrance—a scent of exotic spices and a touch of citrus, as mysterious and romantic as this island itself.

Stepping out of the elevator, he shook his head, as if to physically dispel the seductive image. He needed to be clearheaded for his meeting with the ambassador. From the moment Kyle had been commanded to return to the island, he’d sensed something odd going on.

Although he’d previously met Ambassador Templeton, he’d never been in the man’s inner sanctum. The assistant led him into a large waiting room, nodded to the secretary on duty at a desk, then knocked lightly on the door just behind where she sat.

Joel opened the door and gestured for Kyle to enter. The office was large and airy, a corner room with windows. Ambassador Templeton rose from behind his large, mahogany desk, his hand outstretched in greeting.

“Lieutenant Commander Ramsey,” he said as they shook hands.

“It’s nice to see you again, Ambassador Templeton,” Kyle replied, then was waved into one of the chairs in front of the desk.

Nigel Templeton had been born in Phoenix, Arizona, though his parents were natives of Montebello. He’d grown up in the States, then his family had moved back to the island, and Nigel had begun a career in diplomacy and politics, culminating in him being appointed ambassador three years earlier.

He was a handsome man, his ethnicity apparent in his rich dark hair, deep olive skin and brown eyes, which radiated not only intelligence and dignity, but compassion as well. At the moment, his gaze was filled with worry, and lines of tension snaked across his forehead.

“Montebello is on the verge of a security crisis,” he began. “I know your commanding officer told you that your mission here would be as it was when you were here before—to protect American oil interests in the Middle East. But that’s not your real mission.”

Kyle leaned forward, intrigued.

“I’m sure you’ve heard that Prince Lucas Sebastiani is missing,” Ambassador Templeton continued.

Kyle nodded. “I read that his plane went down somewhere in the Colorado Rockies a couple months ago, and the search and rescue teams have yet to find his body.”

“A tragic state of affairs. As you can imagine, King Marcus is beside himself with grief. Compounding that sorrow is the fact that his daughter, Princess Julia, is pregnant, and the father of the baby is reported to be Sheik Ahmed Kamal’s son, Rashid.”

“But I would think this good news,” Kyle replied. “A union between Princess Julia and Sheik Rashid surely would end the tensions that have existed between Montebello and Tamir.”

Ambassador Templeton leaned back in his chair. “Unfortunately, Sheik Rashid has disappeared, and since he was last seen in the company of Princess Julia, Sheik Ahmed believes King Marcus had something to do with his son’s disappearance. Sheik Ahmed has let King Marcus know he’s prepared to take by force the land on Montebello that would have gone to Prince Lucas.”

Kyle frowned thoughtfully. If the nearby kingdom of Tamir waged battle against Montebello, the fragile peace of the entire Middle East would be shattered.

Once again Ambassador Templeton leaned forward, his dark gaze intense. “Officially, you are here as you were before, to protect American oil interests. Unofficially, you and your team of top gun pilots will be patroling the air space between Montebello and Tamir. You will be on a state of high alert, anticipating a potential air strike and invasion from Tamir. You will report to only three people—King Marcus himself, me or any of the Noble Men who might contact you.”

“The Noble Men?” Kyle looked at him in bewilderment.

“They are the ones who brought you here. They are the ones funding the entire mission of protection for King Marcus and Montebello.”

“I don’t understand. Who are these Noble Men?” Kyle felt as if the ambassador had suddenly begun to speak a foreign language.

“I’m only telling you this because King Marcus and the Noble Men agreed you should be told.” He stared out the window for a long moment, where the sky was an intense, almost surreal blue. “But first I must have your word that you will keep what I tell you in total confidence.”

“Of course I give you my word,” Kyle said instantly, his curiosity aroused to a fever pitch.

“Nobody knows exactly who they are, and very few people know of their existence.” Templeton looked back at Kyle. “What we do know is that they are a covert organization of wealthy, powerful men.” His voice was filled with admiration and respect. “They are peacekeepers and protectors who save lives and restore order, often financing and planning rescue missions in situations where government hands are tied.”

Kyle’s head reeled with the information he’d just been handed. A covert organization, men wielding power and influence for world peace… It sounded like something from an action-adventure movie, and yet he had no reason to doubt what the ambassador had shared with him.

“You said that these Noble Men were the ones who brought me here. Why me?”

For the first time since the ambassador had greeted Kyle, he smiled. “I can’t know for sure, and I wouldn’t begin to question the choices the Noble Men make, but I would imagine it’s because you are one of the best pilots that the United States Navy has to offer.”

His smile faded. “You must understand that, officially, the United States military is not involved in this operation. Unofficially, they will allow you to use their planes and their equipment, and will provide ground support. I’m placing one of my top military attachés in charge of the ground support unit. She will be available to you day and night, whatever it takes to make this mission a success. Her name is Joanna Morgan.”

The ambassador looked down at his wristwatch. “I had hoped she would join us here, but apparently she’s been held up. We’d like to get twenty-four-hour patrols started as soon as possible.”

He stood and Kyle did the same. “You will be staying in your family apartment?”

Kyle hesitated only a moment, then nodded. He’d have preferred to stay on the base, but apparently that wasn’t where the ambassador wanted him.

“Good, then if you’ll just have a seat in the reception area, I’m sure Joanna will be here momentarily. She can drive you to your apartment and you two can begin strategizing your mission.”

He walked around the desk and once again held out his hand to Kyle. “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander, for being available to serve not only the Noble Men, but the people of Montebello as well.”

“I look forward to getting to work immediately,” Kyle replied. The two men said their goodbyes and Kyle left the office.

“May I get you a cup of coffee while you wait?” the secretary asked with a friendly smile.

“No thanks, I’m fine.” Kyle sat in one of the dark blue, upholstered chairs, wondering how long he’d have to wait for this Joanna Morgan to show.

Now that he knew exactly what his mission here would be, he was eager to get started. His mind replayed all that Nigel Templeton had told him.

Two grieving fathers—a king and a sheik—both pointing fingers at the other. If war broke out, the consequences would be felt around the world.

The Noble Men. To say that the concept of a secret organization of wealthy, influential men intrigued him would be a vast understatement. Who were they? What had driven them to form such an organization? What made some men become altruistic and idealistic, while others became fat-cat corporate heads, worshipping the almighty dollar?

He shoved away the mental picture of his father that suddenly sprang to his mind. At the moment he had more important things to think about than Edward Ramsey.

He’d given his word that he would not speak of the Noble Men, and his mind worked to figure out just what he could tell his team of flyers and what he couldn’t. They needed to know only their objective, to keep the skies free of threat, and Kyle was confident they would follow his instructions without question.

A woman walked in, swiftly crossing the room to the receptionist desk. Although Kyle saw her only from the back, he couldn’t help but admire the long shapely legs beneath the short navy skirt, the curvy form of her derriere and the shiny dark hair tied back at the nape of her neck.

She spoke to the receptionist, but their voices were too low for him to hear. He wondered if this woman was the one he’d been waiting for—Joanna Morgan.

When she turned around, a shock of recognition ripped through him. “Marie,” he whispered. At the same time his gaze shot to the name on her badge: Joanna M. Morgan.

She gasped, her dark eyes wide. Before he had time to say another word, she raced past him and out into the hallway, as if she’d seen the very devil himself.

Kyle didn’t hesitate. He jumped out of his chair and ran after her.

Joanna Morgan raced down the hallway and ducked into a nearby ladies’ room. She leaned against the door with all her weight, almost afraid he might barge in after her.

It couldn’t be him. She wasn’t supposed to ever see him again!

What was he doing here?

She waited a moment for her breathing to slow, then moved away from the door and stood at one of the three sinks. She stared into the mirror at her reflection. She looked as if she’d just seen a ghost. She had. She’d seen the ghost of passion past.

Kyle Ramsey. It had been him. There was no pretending. Kyle had been sitting in the ambassador’s waiting room.

She closed her eyes and instantly was granted a vivid mental picture of him. That thick, wavy brown hair, those charcoal-gray eyes and those full, sensual lips had haunted her for the past couple of months.

It was almost exactly three months ago that she had made love to a virtual stranger. She’d like to believe that she had been drunk, but she knew better. Joanna never did anything to excess, especially drink.

No, she hadn’t been drunk—she’d been intoxicated by the sexy charm that had radiated from his eyes, inebriated by the flirtatious, playful banter they had shared, smashed on the blatant masculine sexuality that had rolled off him in waves.

“Marie.” A rapid knock sounded on the door.

She bit her lower lip, fighting against a wave of nausea. She’d never expected to see him again. Their night together had been a crazy lapse of judgment, a momentary slide into insanity, a wild ride of abandonment that had been completely out of character for her.

“Marie…Joanna.” This time the knock was louder and echoed with a touch of impatience. “You can’t stay in there all day. Sooner or later you have to come out.”

He was right, of course. She couldn’t stay in here forever, but she needed a little time to regain her equilibrium. She wasn’t ready to come out yet. She still hadn’t fully recovered from the absolute shock of seeing him again.

“Joanna, we have work to do.” His voice came softly through the door.

Work to do? What work could they have to do? A new wave of despair swept through her as her brain struggled to make sense of his words.

Oh heavens, he’d come from the ambassador’s office. He’d been in there when the ambassador was to meet with the top gun navy pilot who was sharing her new assignment with her.

Just that morning Ambassador Templeton had told her about her new, important assignment—providing ground support for a team of top gun fliers who were coming in unofficially to patrol the skies over Montebello.

Kyle was the top gun navy pilot, and she would be working with him until the current tensions between Montebello and Tamir were resolved. Fate had a hysterical sense of humor, she thought. Unfortunately, at the moment she wasn’t laughing, she simply felt as if she might throw up.

“Buck up,” she commanded herself. “You’re a professional and you will act like one.” She slid a hand down her navy skirt, then drew a deep breath, opened the door and stepped out.

The last time she’d seen Kyle Ramsey, he’d been wearing jeans and a polo shirt. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. The very last time she’d seen him, he’d been gloriously naked and asleep. That final vision of him exploded in her head, granting her an unwelcome image of his naked body stretched out on white sheets.

“Joanna M. Morgan.” His gaze lingered a moment on her badge before returning to her face. “I assume the M stands for Marie?”

She nodded. He’d looked marvelous clad in jeans and a shirt. He’d looked sinfully sexy naked against crisp white sheets, but at the moment he looked arrogant and commanding in his pristine, wrinkle-free uniform.

“So, should I call you Joanna or Marie?” His slate eyes glittered brightly. “Or is Marie the name you use only when you’re picking up men in bars?”

She gasped. “I did not pick you up,” she exclaimed indignantly before abruptly changing the subject. She fumbled with her purse and withdrew her car keys. “I understand I’m to take you to where you will be staying. Shall we go?”

She marched ahead of him, mortified by the entire situation. She’d allowed herself to be seduced, had indulged in some seduction of her own that night. But when she’d awakened early the next morning, she’d been appalled by what she’d done.

Even worse was discovering that Kyle Ramsey was in the military. She’d crept out of the room, consoling herself with the knowledge that she would never see him again.

She didn’t look at him now until they were alone in the elevator. Then it was impossible to avoid doing so.

He filled the entire cubicle with his presence, with the spicy scent of his cologne and a subtle underlying fragrance of clean male. His eyes, with their sinful, long dark lashes and wicked gleam, swept her from head to toe, evoking tiny heat bursts wherever his gaze lingered.

His lips curved into a lazy smile that she remembered far too vividly from their night together. “Don’t you know it’s the height of bad manners to sneak away from a lover while he’s sleeping?”

“We weren’t lovers and I think it’s most unchivalrous of you to even mention that night.”

He took a step closer to her. With the high beam of his bedroom eyes on her and the nearly blinding charm of his smile, she suddenly remembered how easy it had been to succumb to his seduction.

“We were lovers for that night, and why shouldn’t I mention it? It’s definitely a fond memory for me.”

The elevator doors slid open, and Joanna nearly leaped out in an effort to escape the close proximity.

“Lieutenant Commander—”

“Kyle,” he interjected as he fell into step beside her. “I figure any woman who has seen me naked should be able to call me by my first name.”

Joanna refused to rise to his obvious baiting, but her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Okay, fine,” she continued as they left the embassy building and walked toward the nearby parking area. “Kyle, we have a job to do…an important job. And it would be best if we could just pretend that we met for the first time right now.”

She stopped walking as they reached her small sports car. She unlocked the passenger door, then turned to face him, swallowing a gasp as she realized just how close he stood to her.

“Don’t tell me you’re married,” he said.

“Of course not,” she replied indignantly.

“Why didn’t you tell me you worked at the embassy?” he asked, and took another step closer, effectively trapping her between her car and his hard, muscled body.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a hotshot top gun?” she countered.

She’d realized he was a military man early the next morning, when she’d awakened and gotten up to go to the bathroom. She’d spied his wallet on the bathroom counter. The wallet was open, displaying military identification. It was that that had prompted her to leave him, sneaking out like a thief just as the dawn had began to creep across the sky.

A slow, seductive smile curved his lips. “I didn’t tell you I was a pilot because I wanted you to like me for who I was, not what I did for a living.” He reached up and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

The simple touch galvanized her. She slid sideways, freeing herself from contact with the car and with him. “Like I said, it would be best if we’d just forget we had any dealings with each other before now.”

She didn’t wait for him to reply, but instead walked around the car and unlocked the driver’s door. She slid behind the wheel at the same time he got in on the passenger side. She started to put the key in the ignition, but was stopped by his hand grabbing hers.

His long fingers curled around her wrist, warm and strong, and for just a second she remembered what those fingers had felt like touching her intimately. She felt a renewed burst of heat flame in her cheeks.

“Okay, we’ll pretend that night never happened…on one condition,” he said.

“What condition?” She eyed him suspiciously.

There was no humor in his eyes, no flirtatious light whatsoever. “Tell me why you left that morning. Tell me why you left without saying a word to me.”

She pulled her hand from his, her mind racing for an explanation that would effectively douse any attraction he might still entertain for her.

“To be perfectly honest, Kyle,” she began, wondering if perhaps what she was about to say was too over the top, verging on cruel. She quickly decided to forge ahead.

Better he hate her and stay out of her life than find out that their night of passion hadn’t been without consequence. Better he hate her than find out she was pregnant with his child. “As lovers go, you weren’t that great. In fact, you were terrible.”