Читать книгу The Soldier's Secret Daughter - Cindy Dees - Страница 8

Jagger was staggered by Emily Grainger. Not in his wildest dreams would he have guessed that a parka could unwrap to reveal this jewel. She was perfect. And scary as hell. He didn’t go for real women, the hearth-and-home kind a guy could envision having his babies and keeping a home with. Oh, no. She was not his type at all.

So why, then, was he so attracted to her he could hardly keep his hands off her?

Not good. Not good at all.

The first thing he noticed about her was her flawless, translucent skin. Contrasted against her lush brunette hair, the combination was beyond striking. Her eyes were big and dark, her lips ripe for the kissing. He preferred her rosy mouth after the first gin and tonic lifted away that pale pink lipstick. She looked eminently more kissable now.

But what absolutely blew him away was the look of delighted wonder in her eyes. Her gaze was so innocent, so guileless, so … pure, he almost felt inappropriate touching her. In his world, the people were hard. Cynical. Out to stab you in the back before you stabbed them. All the playfulness, all the innocence had been burned out of men like him—of him—long ago. But she had both. In spades. And they drew him in as effortlessly as a spider coaxing a fly into its web. The world’s most innocent spider.

He’d accuse her of being childlike if it weren’t for the intelligence lurking just below the surface of that warm chocolate gaze. He could all but hear the wheels turning as she processed and analyzed everything and everyone around her. It was a strange dichotomy. But no doubt about it, he sensed a first-class mind at work. Thankfully, she seemed in total ignorance of men like him, however.

His mouth turned down cynically. He was a user. He took what he needed from the people around him and then threw them away like so much discarded trash. A girl like Emily certainly deserved better than that. But as sure as God made little green apples, he was going to use her anyway. It was who he was. He didn’t know how to do anything else.

But a warning vibrated deep in his gut. This woman might leave an indelible mark on him. She was a permanent kind of woman who could shake the very foundation of his impermanent world.

He yanked his mind back to the job at hand. If and when the AbaCo security team finally relaxed a little, he’d sneak off and make his way up an elevator and into the offices above. He’d break into the company’s computers and download everything he could find on the company’s shipping operations. And hopefully, somewhere in there, they’d find a lead on his missing fellow agents. If he was really lucky, his colleagues would find something criminal with which to charge AbaCo and launch a wider investigation of the secretive company’s practices.

But until that moment when he had to bail out on her, he could make this a night to remember for Emily Grainger. It was the least he owed her for her unwitting help. Not to mention, he seemed compelled to flirt with the danger this woman represented to him. He fed her compliments, laughed with her and did his very best Prince Charming imitation for her.

As she continued to dance and talk with him, he plied her with equal parts alcohol and enticement until her eyes blazed with utter infatuation. And somewhere along the way, his plan of attack changed. Why ditch Emily after a few hours to take a one-shot stab at breaking in tonight when he could play out this thing between them and potentially turn her into a long-term infiltrator of AbaCo from the inside?

Hypocrite. He just wanted an excuse to spend more time with the girl.

No, dammit, that wasn’t all this was about. It was good business to turn the girl.

Nonetheless, his gut twinged. Did he have it in him to make a pawn out of sweet, trusting Emily? Hell, a woman like her should never look twice at a man like him. He really should warn her off. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. God, he was a jerk. He didn’t deserve Emily Grainger.

“Are you okay?” A soft hand rested on his chest, jolting him back to the present. Damn, she was perceptive.

He grinned bleakly at her. “Yeah, sure. I was just pondering what New Year’s resolution I should make this year.”

“Hmm. That’s a good question.” Laughter twinkled in her warm gaze. “Mine is going to be to wear more red shoes.”

“Gonna take more chances, huh? Gonna try living on the edge?” he teased. The thought of her existing in a world like his was ludicrous. But he couldn’t begrudge her the dream, he supposed. The reality was so much darker than a woman like her could ever imagine.

She nodded firmly. “Yup. That’s me. Danger Girl.”

He laughed, genuinely amused. She had no idea just how dangerous to him she was. He commented lightly, “Well, then, my resolution is to help you make your resolution come true.”

Her gaze snapped to his. Not slow on the uptake, his Emily. She hadn’t for a minute missed the implications of that. He was talking about continuing to see her after tonight. He looked her in the eyes, losing himself in their sweet depths. To have a woman like this for himself, to bathe himself in all that goodness, to soak up her innocence and generosity, to be loved forever by someone like her—

He cut the fantasy off cold. Danger Girl, indeed.

“Wanna take a walk?” she murmured. “Get a little fresh air?”

He grinned. “I think that’s supposed to be my line. Then comes the part where I drag you into some dark corner and try to make out with you.”

She grinned back. “Who says I’m not trying to drag you into the corner to make out with you?”

He nodded his amused acquiescence. “Lead on. My body is yours to ravage.”

He was shocked when she led him over to the elevators and punched the up button. She wasn’t going to take him up to her office—in the Special Cargo Department, no less—was she? Surely this op wouldn’t be that easy.

He leaned down to murmur in her ear, “Are you planning to throw me down on your desk and have your way with me?”

A fiery blush leaped to her cheeks. “Good Lord, my cubicle will never be the same now that you’ve planted that image in my mind!”

“Think how much fun work’s going to be on Monday morning,” he teased.

“I was thinking that we could go out to the water garden and stroll around.”

Ah. The building’s tenth floor was not a floor at all. Rather it was an open-air terrace sporting massive columns and housing an elaborate outdoor modern art collection interspersed with, as she’d already alluded to, a bunch of fountains. All the good stuff in the firm was above that. It was the reason he’d come in through the roof—or at least tried to until that plan went completely to hell.

The elevator opened, and she punched a security code into the number pad inside. He memorized the six-digit number as a matter of course. Emily Grainger was the brass ring and then some for getting the inside scoop on AbaCo. She so far surpassed his wildest expectations for this op that he could hardly believe his luck. And all he could do was imagine different ways to bed her. He was a cad. A sharp knife of guilt stabbed him.

While he admonished himself to get over it and concentrate on his job, she reached out shyly to loop her fingers in the crook of his elbow. He gazed down at her intently and the smile faded from her face. She stared back at him, her pupils dilating until her eyes went black as she correctly interpreted his expression.

The elevator dinged and the door slid open. She shook herself free of their mutual reverie first and stepped toward the exit. Rocked at the effect she had on him, he followed her outside. The wind was howling tonight, but glass panels mounted at intervals all around the edge of the terrace shielded the garden from the worst of it. Nonetheless, he took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

He caught the surreptitious sniff she took, inhaling his scent. And something moved deep within him. Something protective. Possessive.

They’d only walked a dozen steps forward before he spotted the first surveillance camera. This place was a freaking fortress, all right. All the more reason to give up on a simple break-in tonight. Better to cultivate Emily as a long-term asset, to spy for him from the inside.

Distracted by thoughts of all those secret meetings they’d need to have with each other, he ducked his head away from the camera out of long habit, and immediately could’ve kicked himself for having done it. Dammit. If the camera operator was half as good as the rest of the AbaCo team, Jagger had just sent a big red flag up the pole. No innocent civilian reacted that way to a surveillance camera. But a spy most certainly would.

He sighed. Nothing to do now but brazen it out. “Are you warm enough?” He smiled down at Emily.

“It is chilly. But I enjoy the quiet.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, tucking her close against his side. “Better?”

“Mmm,” she murmured. She sounded like a kitten after lapping up a bowl of warm milk. “Are you warm enough?”

He chuckled. “I love cold weather. This is bracing.”

She shook her head. “Give me a tropical beach every day of the week and twice on Sunday.”

“I gathered that from the way you were bundled up when you arrived.”

She laughed ruefully. “My mom always told me to dress like I expect my car to break down and be stranded for hours. I confess I have been known as a compulsive safety girl before. But no more, of course. I’m Danger Girl now.”

He heard the whoosh of an elevator door behind him and held himself still, not reacting. He studied a red metal abstract sculpture in front of him. “That looks like a Calder,” he commented, ignoring the guards he felt approaching in the sudden twitchiness of his shoulder blades.

“I think it is. I’m not too much into modern art, I’m afraid. I like my art old—and the subject identifiable.”

He laughed quietly as two pairs of footsteps became audible.

“You there!” a male voice called out sharply.

He and Emily turned as a single unit, which had the effect of making the maneuver look nice and casual. “Can we help you?” Jagger asked smoothly.

The two men halted, eyeing him suspiciously. “How did you two get up here?”

Emily laughed. “We crawled up the side of the building using our supersuction fingers and spider silk. We took the elevator, of course.”

“Who’s the gentleman with you, Miss Grainger?”

Emily glanced up at him in surprise. “Why, Jagger Holtz, of course.”

The men frowned. “Mind if we see a little identification, sir?”

He frowned as any innocent man would at such a request, but shrugged. “Not at all.” As he dug out his wallet and passed over his driver’s license, he asked, “May I ask what this is all about?”

“Routine security check, sir. Would you mind coming with us?”

His frown deepened as he swore mentally. He’d had such a good thing going with Emily, and now he was going to have to run again. And this time without a rope. He let his arm drop off Emily’s shoulder and he tensed to charge the two men. He’d take the smaller one on the right first and spin him into his bigger, more dangerous-looking buddy.

Emily spoke up without warning. “Actually, we would mind. Mr. Holtz and I are trying to enjoy our New Year’s Eve here. There’s no law against walking around the water garden.”

The bigger one replied, “We’ve had a security breach tonight, and we’re looking for a man dressed in all black and matching the general height and build of your … friend.”

“I see,” she replied frostily, shrugging off Jagger’s coat and handing it back to him. “Now you can see that my friend is not wearing all black. He was merely being a gentleman and loaning me his coat.”

God bless her. He couldn’t have asked for a better cover story if he’d prepped her himself.

The smaller guard opened his mouth, but Jagger interrupted him, impatiently now. The average innocent guy with a few drinks in him and a hot chick beside him would be getting all kinds of irritated, so he let a hint of testosterone-induced posturing creep into the exchange. “The lady and I arrived together. You can ask Horace down at the front desk.”

The smaller guard glowered but murmured into his coat collar. The reply was swift. A finger to his ear and the guard nodded reluctantly at his partner. Both looked more than a little disgruntled. “Horace remembers the two of you arriving. Sorry to bother you. Have a nice night.” With that, the guards turned and left.

Emily complained, “I know this place can be a police state, but good grief.”

Jagger steered her toward the elevator. “Let’s go back inside. You’re shivering.”

“It’s not the cold. It’s those thugs. They give me the creeps.”

“You’re going to have to get used to facing down thugs if you want to live a life of adventure and mayhem, Danger Girl.”

“I don’t need mayhem. Just some naughty shoes and a little adventure with a hot guy now and then.”

His lips curved upward. Hot, was he?

They rode the elevator down to the party in silence. In a single sweeping glance of the room, he spotted no less than twelve men with earpieces carrying themselves like more of Emily’s thugs. The back of his neck started to tingle. He didn’t like how they were arrayed around the room. It looked for all the world like an ambush about to be sprung. With him as the main course. Time to blow this popsicle stand.

Smiling casually for the thugs’ benefit, he murmured, “Speaking of adventure, what say we relocate this party to someplace less thug-infested?”

She looked up at him in surprise. “What did you have in mind?”

“How about my place? We can take your car and that way you can leave whenever you want.” In his experience, the safer a woman felt about her ability to leave a place, the more she was inclined to stay. He added, “I don’t need all these security guys eyeing me like I’m some criminal for the next two hours.”

She glanced around. “Good point.”

“No pressure, Em. Just a bottle of champagne and a bite to eat. I don’t expect any more than that.”

She blinked up at him, her mouth and eyes round. Was she so innocent that it actually hadn’t occurred to her that he might be propositioning her for sex when he invited her to his place?

She nodded in sudden decision. “As my first act of daring in the almost new year, I, Danger Girl, accept your invitation. Let’s go.”

He grinned, enormously relieved. He dared not let her leave his side until he was well clear of this place, lest the security team swoop in and grab him. He picked up both of their coats, and he made a humorous production of mummifying her in her scarf, hat, parka and mittens. It culminated with her sticking her tongue out at him and yanking her scarf up over her face. Ah, sweet Emily. She had no idea what a good act she was putting on for the cameras. He could kiss her.

Hell, he could kiss her and it wouldn’t have a damned thing to do with AbaCo’s uptight security team.

The two of them took the elevator down to the parking garage and walked quickly to her car. He never once glanced in the direction of the pillar where he’d stashed his gear earlier. He hadn’t spotted a camera, but there undoubtedly was one down here. And just as undoubtedly, someone was watching for his reaction to the hiding place of the suspicious backpack the security team had found earlier.

“The roads aren’t in great shape. Would you like me to drive?” he offered. “I have a lot of experience on ice.”

“Uh, okay,” she replied. He opened her door for her and then went around to the driver’s side of her car. He eased the vehicle out of the parking space and started up the ramp.

“Where’d you learn to drive on ice?” she asked.

He couldn’t very well tell her about his numerous illegal forays into Russia. “Alaska,” he replied blandly. In point of fact, he’d done some Arctic training up there that had happened to include some offensive driving classes. Doing donuts on sheet ice was a kick for the first dozen revolutions or so. Then it just made a guy sick to his stomach.

“Cool. I’ve always wanted to go there,” she said brightly.

“So take a vacation there this year, Danger Girl.”

She looked over at him, her eyes sparkling like diamonds. “Maybe I will.”

He maneuvered confidently through the traffic, wary of drunks. But it wasn’t midnight yet, and the majority of partygoers wouldn’t hit the highways for another couple of hours. He turned the heat up full blast, and it had the desired effect. Before long, Emily had shed most of her outer layers. The view was much better now. Despite how slender she was, she had a nicely proportioned cleavage, not huge, but full and round and tempting.

“Wow. You are a good driver,” she commented.

“It’s all about being decisive and knowing what your tires can do.”

Silence fell between them and he pulled out his cell phone, dialed his hotel one-handed and asked for room service. When a female voice came on the line, he responded, “This is Mr. Holtz from room 2467. I’d like surf and turf for two in my room with all the trimmings, plus the Dom Perignon 1983. And a dark chocolate fondue for dessert. Extra strawberries, please. I’ll be arriving at the hotel in a half hour. Anytime after that will be fine.”

He disconnected the call. Emily was staring at him as if he’d grown a third eye in the middle of his forehead. “What?” he asked.

“Are you sure you’re not James Bond?”

Okay, then. That cut a little too close for comfort. He kept forgetting that beneath her playful innocence lay an intelligent and observant woman. He laughed lightly. “Thanks for the comparison. I’m afraid I’m just a regular guy.”

Emily wondered about that, though. Jagger danced like a god, handled a car like a Formula One driver and ordered fancy midnight dinners as if they were an everyday occurrence in his world. Why wasn’t she surprised when he pulled up in front of one of the ritziest hotels in Denver, flipped the car keys to a valet and casually passed her the ticket for her car?

As he escorted her through the lobby his hand came to rest in the small of her back, and he leaned in close as though he was claiming possession of her to any and all who looked. That crazy electricity thing happened again, and it was all she could do to walk across the lobby without falling on her face. Honestly. It was enough to turn a girl’s head.

Enough to make her willing to bust out of her shell and try to become the kind of woman this man might want for longer than one night.

Of course, his room turned out to be a suite with a magnificent view of Denver and the black void of the mountains looming in the distance. Nothing but the best for Jagger Holtz, no, sir. So where did that leave her? Tonight’s consolation prize? Except he hadn’t even looked at another woman at the party. She’d barely taken her eyes off him all evening. She’d have noticed if he was checking the room for other fish.

She was Danger Girl, dammit. She was not about to let her complete lack of self-confidence overtake her now. She’d come this far … she could go the rest of the way toward making years’ worth of fantasies come true.

Jagger took her ridiculous coat from her and hung it up in the front closet while she wandered over to the window to admire the view. She flung the question over her shoulder, “Why me? You could’ve had any woman in the place tonight.”

He strolled up behind her, hands fisted in his pockets. He stopped just behind her shoulder, gazing at her reflection in the black window. “Why not you?” he countered. “You’re beautiful, charming, intelligent, fun, an interesting conversationalist.”

She got hung up on the very first adjective. “Beautiful? Me? I don’t think so.”

“Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder,” he murmured. “I find you positively magnificent.” Tension suddenly poured from him. “Emily,” he half whispered, “I can’t take my eyes off you.” The words sounded torn unwillingly from his gut.

“But why?”

It was as if she’d dug one layer too deep and hit a nerve. The deep restlessness that she sensed ingrained in him went still. His body froze for a moment. His face went blank. It was as if his entire being just … shut down.

It took him several seconds to look up at her reflection and smile crookedly at it. “Can’t you just accept my … compulsion to be with you … at face value?”

He had a compulsion? To be with her? Cool. As long as it didn’t turn out to be some sick obsession. Although he hadn’t given her the slightest hint of any aberrant impulses.

Their dinner arrived, and he lit the tall white candles between their silver-covered plates. The candlelight twinkled off the shiny sterling flatware, lending an unbearably romantic air to the table and to the entire room. He extinguished the other lights until only the twin candles lit the room, leaving the space mysterious and sexy around them.

Jagger murmured, “Like most women, you look ravishing by candlelight.”

She smiled widely. “Like most women, I know it’s all about the lighting and not me.”

“Untrue. Even the most perfect of lighting can only improve mediocrity so much. You’re beautiful, candles or no candles.”

She sighed. “You’re so good for a girl’s ego.”

“I try,” he murmured as he reached for her plate with a pair of lobster pliers.

He served her himself, pulling her lobster from the shell and even ladling dressing onto her salad for her. How was a girl supposed to resist all this pampering? By the bottom of her second glass of champagne, she was beginning to wonder why she should try. And then the fondue arrived. He fed her chocolate-dipped ladyfingers, red raspberries the size of her thumb and strawberries. Mmm, the strawberries. They were decadent.

By the bottom of the third glass of champagne, all thoughts of resisting his charms had flown right out of her head. And yet all he did after the meal was put on a smooth jazz CD and commence dancing with her. Not the big, flashy waltz of before but rather a slow and subtle swaying, just the two of them, body to body. It was … nice. Okay, maybe not nice. More like naughty. Luscious. Sexy. Fabulous.

His restraint made her feel safe. In control. And yet a little voice in the back of her head told her she was already wildly out of control. But hey. Tonight was all about taking chances.

“What kind of accounting work do you do?” he murmured as they continued to talk about anything and everything.

“I track special shipments and document the money trail from pickup to delivery.”

“What kind of stuff constitutes a special shipment?”

She smiled up at him. “I don’t ask, and the clients don’t tell. Stuff in boxes, mostly. Commercial containers. Usually heavy and sealed airtight.” She shrugged. “I figure it’s illegal arms shipments.”

“Seriously?” he blurted.

She laughed. “No, I’m joking of course. I have no idea what it is. I just make sure it’s paid for and gets there on time.”

“Do you do anything else?”

“Well, sure. Sometimes they need me to do other stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“You know. Exciting stuff. Like order food and toilet paper for ship crews. Or relay the fuel load a ship plans to take on when it comes into port.” Her tongue wasn’t cooperating quite as well as she’d like, and rather than sound tipsy, she threw the conversation back in his lap. “What do you do?”

“Stuff.” He laughed down at her.

“I don’t suppose I have to ask anyway. Everybody knows what James Bond does.”

He laughed under his breath. “Are we talking about in the bedroom or out of it?”

She giggled up at him. The bubbles from the champagne had definitely gone to her head. “Personally, I think ol’ James was a little deficient in that department.”

Jagger’s eyes popped wide open. “How so?”

“Well, think about it. All those women, and not a one of them ever got pregnant. And you have to admit, he isn’t the kind of man who’d have a vasectomy. He’s too macho to be that responsible. Which means—” she sighed for dramatic effect “—that the legendary Double-O-Seven shoots blanks. If you catch my meaning.” She waggled her eyebrows exaggeratedly just to make sure.

Jagger all but doubled over in laughter, and she puffed up at the notion that he was laughing at her. “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

“That an innocent kitten like you actually thinks about such things.”

“I’m not innocent,” she asserted indignantly. “Far from it.”

He drew her closer, murmuring, “Hmm. That remains to be seen.”

Not to be distracted from the subject at hand, she mused, “I suppose if a girl was looking for a sperm donor to give her a baby, James Bond wouldn’t be a bad candidate—if all the equipment worked, of course. He’s smart, handsome, charming, accomplished …” She batted her eyelashes up at him.

Jagger rolled his eyes. “I highly doubt James thought that far ahead. Guys like him live in the moment. They don’t even think about surviving beyond the current mission.”

“You say that like you know something about it.”

“Not me,” he replied blandly.

They danced in silence for several more minutes, and then he abruptly strode over to the television and turned it on. A timer was counting down the final seconds to the new year. She’d completely lost track of time in his arms.

Three. Two. One.

“Happy New Year,” he murmured …

… and then he kissed her.