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NICE BUTT.

Nice legs.

I don’t get the whole upside-down thing, but…

Wow. Very nice legs.

He’d caught the woman wielding a stainless vacuum attachment as if she were dueling with a sword. Then she’d picked up something and started talking to it. Now she was studying him as if he was a rare scientific discovery.

Keeping his distance so as not to trigger any more of her apparent eccentricities, Sean cleared his throat and blinked, breaking the stunned stare that had captured both him and the woman with the endless gams.

She stood up in a flurry and faced him. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. He squinted politely, expecting her to repeat herself. She rolled her eyes heaven-ward, pursed her lips and muttered something unintelligible. She was all flustered in a way that was part preteen and part prude—and disarmingly refreshing in an adult woman.

Sean resisted the urge to smile. She reached down and flipped off the switch on the canister vacuum, filling the apartment with a startling silence. If she was a housekeeper for hire, then he would seriously consider spending some time at his town house, dirtying it up so she’d have a reason to come clean it.

But she smiled and extended a hand in greeting that told him she owned the place. His ogle-the-maid fantasy gave way to polite respect at the confidence she exuded.

“Are you Cassie?”

“I’m her roommate, Caitlin McCormick. You must be Sean.”

Stepping forward, he folded his hand around hers, testing the finely boned structure of it. Despite her height and athletic build, Caitlin McCormick was still very much a woman. Certainly not a preteen and hopefully not a prude. It’d be a waste.

He nodded, once, in greeting and in silent approval. “Sean Maddox. Cassie said to let myself in. Did I interrupt something?”

“What? Oh.” Her silvery gaze darted to the vacuum beside her. She glared at the inanimate object as if it were responsible for the creative housecleaning show he’d just witnessed. She snatched her hand away and brushed her palms against the hips of her cutoff denim shorts. “Just trying to make a dull job a little more interesting.”

“I see.” He didn’t, but it was the polite thing to say.

Enough pleasantries. The clock was ticking.

“Is Cass—?”

“Cassie’s not—”

They’d spoken at the same time.

He grinned, trying to ease her nervous laughter.

But she quickly recovered and started again. “Sorry. I’ve been out of town, ever since school got out last week.”

“You’re a student?”

“Teacher. Junior-high English.”

Lucky kids. Why hadn’t any of his teachers had a body like that? The cutoffs she wore revealed a mile of leg that even his nonadolescent libido responded to.

The delicate points of her shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh that wiped away his smile and replaced his body’s interest with suspicion.

“Here.” She handed him a piece of flowered stationery from the hall table. “Cassie left this for you. She got called out of town unexpectedly.”

Sean scanned the note. His suspicion curdled in his gut and flowed out into his veins in a frustrated temper. “Damn.”

Over the phone, Cassie had sounded like the perfect woman for his plans. No strings attached. Ready for fun. But he’d expected her to keep her word about this weekend. His mistake.

He’d gotten caught at Dillon’s office in Quantico and hadn’t driven into Alexandria, Virginia, until nearly an hour past the time he’d arranged to pick her up. He thought his invitation had made everything clear. He was offering her a free vacation at a high-class resort in exchange for whatever she wanted to offer. As long as the other guests believed they were a couple.

He hadn’t offered his heart and she hadn’t asked for it. But did Cassie’s easy-come, easy-go attitude mean she’d move on to the next man if one date didn’t show up on time?

“I know it’s a surprise.” The voice of Cassie’s roommate cut through his brewing temper. “She said she did try to call you.”

Damn. Now what was he supposed to do? Diego Marquez might walk if Sean couldn’t come up with some connection between Justice Rossini’s trip to Pleasure Cove and his subsequent retirement. Sean would have a hard time dealing with Alicia Reyes’s silent tears if that happened. And the San Isidrans wanted answers soon about their ambassador’s murder, or they’d send up their state police looking for answers themselves. He had to infiltrate Pleasure Cove Island. Tomorrow. “Damn.”

“You said that already. I’m sorry. I know Cassie left you in a bind tonight. But don’t hate her. She’s impulsive—not heartless.” The roommate tapped the paper in his hand. “She did apologize.”

“Apologize?” He glanced up and, standing nearly eye-to-eye, drilled her with the damning look he had in mind for Cassie. “What good does that do me?”

Surprisingly, the roommate stood her ground without flinching. “She told me you weren’t close, that she was doing you a favor.” He watched guilt play over the woman’s features, overshadowing her confidence. “I know it’s inconvenient, but your feelings shouldn’t be hurt.”

“Inconvenient isn’t the half of it. I need a woman. Now.” Sean gritted his teeth and swore again. Didn’t that sound pathetic?

He tipped his head back and hissed an angry breath through his teeth, disgusted with himself for trusting that his plan with Cassie Kramer would work. “Women can’t be trusted to go to the line on anything.”

Caitlin’s hands shot up in protest. “Excuse me. You got screwed out of one last-minute date. Don’t blame the rest of the gender because your timing’s lousy.”

“She’s really not here?” Sean crumpled the note in his fist and began to stalk through the apartment, searching rooms, checking to see if this was all a lie and Cassie was hiding from him.

“Hey!”

Wasn’t that just like a woman? Leaving when you needed her most. This assignment was all about this weekend. She could have dumped him Monday, no problem. But tonight?

The roomie with the dynamite legs hurried after him, trying unsuccessfully to stop him from looking into the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, matching him stride for stride. “Could I have that key back? I don’t think you’ll be needing it anymore.”

She tried to block his path into one pigsty of a bedroom, but he pushed past her. Empty. He crossed the hall and entered a bedroom whose soft blues and tans and wrinkle-free perfection could have come from the pages of a magazine.

He felt her hand at his elbow then. “This is my bedroom. Get out.”

He whirled around, easily pulling free of her tugging grasp. “I had plans.”

Somehow he’d cornered the woman in the doorway. She’d have to brush against him to move past. But Sean rudely held his ground, letting the soft heat of her body seep into him across the breath of space between them. The faint tang of household cleaner blended with the salt-tinged ocean scent of the woman herself. She’d been out on the water recently. He breathed the observation, in and out, her fresh scent filling his head and calming his burst of anger.

She was tall, just a few inches shorter than him—and he was six-two. Her honey-gold hair feathered across her cheeks and forehead in something like a pageboy cut. Only curlier. Sexier. Her gray eyes had darkened to the color of a battleship. And there was definitely a battle waging there. Fire. Fear, maybe. Questions, certainly. But definitely fire.

Plan B took shape in his mind.

He skimmed his gaze down the front of her gray-heather T-shirt. Her breasts were small, barely noticeable beneath the oversize cotton garment. But her hips flared nicely. And those legs… Sean swallowed hard and leaned back to scan every smooth, shapely inch. An image of those legs wrapped around his hips, binding them together in the most elemental of ways, sprang into his mind, consuming his body in a flush of instant heat. Now his imagination decided to kick in!

Sean squeezed his eyes shut and focused on controlling the involuntary response. It had been too long since he’d had sex. That was all. Not once during the Marquez case. Nor the case before that.

He wasn’t a celibate man by nature, but he worked long, difficult hours. He kept company with equally busy fellow agents and criminal lowlifes. When he did run across a woman who charged his engines, he’d make a play for her. A few were okay with his Job Comes First motto. Elise had been. At first.

Then the hassle started. She just couldn’t let him be who he needed to be. She’d bought him ties and dressed him up for dinner. At first he’d used the demands of his job as an excuse to keep things light and fun between them. But somewhere along the line, an emotional bond had formed. And suddenly he’d been rearranging appointments to catch an afternoon quickie with Elise. He’d worn her damn ties.

He’d even swallowed his fears and ventured into a jewelry store. Just to look. There were a number of rings well within his budget that looked nice. That spoke commitment.

He’d walked out with something called a tennis bracelet instead. The next day he’d gone to surprise Elise at lunch. That was when she’d kissed that old friend. In front of him and God and the entire restaurant.

The bracelet was probably still wrapped up in the back of his closet somewhere.

Now Sean understood that his job was the only thing that had never let him down. So that’s where his loyalties lay. Women were for fun and nothing more—if they were agreeable. The Bureau was his full-time commitment. That way nobody got hurt.

But his lonesome body sure seemed to be paying the price for that self-imposed ideal.

He slowly opened his eyes, thinking his bitter memories had helped him conquer his body’s desire. But with his head angled as it was he was staring right at this woman’s breasts. Small, yes, but amazingly responsive. They rose and fell with each quick, deep breath she drew. His own chest expanded in a rhythmic response. Almost…nearly…not quite touching hers.

“What are you staring at?” The woman’s croaky whisper caressed his ears, but his focus had shifted to the subtle seep of color that washed up the swanlike arc of her neck and stained her cheeks.

Despite her boyish attire and eccentric housekeeping skills, she was a long, tall drink of purely female body. South of his belt buckle, he stirred in response again.

A sexy woman was the answer his body wanted to give. But his rational mind still had control. Barely. “How tall are you?”

The question came out of nowhere, from the uncontrolled depths of his subconscious mind.

Her gaze dropped to his chest. “Five-eleven.”

Then the subtle movement of her shoulders registered. She was hunching down, making herself shorter.

Suddenly, Sean had two fingers tucked beneath her softly jutting chin. “Don’t.”

He was lifting her up, tipping her chin up. He moved closer. She was an unexpected combination of creamy skin and steely strength. His fingertips sizzled at the contact. He wanted to sample a taste of that smooth, heated skin.

Her hands came up and splayed across his chest, halting him from coming any closer without pushing him back. It was too tender a touch to ignore, too hesitant a touch to justify the way his nerve endings jumped to greet the clutch of her fingertips. Her eyes had washed to a pale dove-gray, the rounded pupils big and black in their centers, as if she were drugged with the same hazy feeling that seemed to be clouding his own mind.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Judging by the hypnotic effect this woman’s body was having on his, he was charging his engines. He was giving vent to several months of unintended celibacy. He needed sex. Lots of it. He needed to get this fever she was igniting out of his system so he could do his job.

The idea in his mind became a living, breathing desire.

She wouldn’t.

He didn’t dare ask.

He had nothing to lose.

“Are you free this weekend?”

And then she did shove him. She retreated a step into her bedroom while Sean stumbled into the hallway.

Her rosy cheeks had blanched, but there was plenty of fervor left in her voice. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Mr. Maddox, but you can’t just come in here and take me apart with your eyes like that. Cassie stood you up, so you grab the next female who comes along? That’s the most insulting pickup routine I’ve ever—”

“Are you available?” He waved aside her rightful protest before she could lambaste him again. “I know, I know.” He moved into the foyer, away from the unspoken desire that had sparked between them. He needed to think clearly here. Think of the job. He glanced at his watch and swore. “I’m already late.”

Unless he drove straight through the night. He couldn’t risk any holdups with the airlines. But getting there in time did him no good unless he had an escort.

“Late for what?”

Bingo. Curiosity. She might have voiced a ladylike protest at his impromptu invitation, but she was interested. Despite her dating survival instincts, she was interested. Sean’s libidinous radar kicked in, backed up by his professional survival instincts. She might not want to admit it, but she was interested in him.

He slowly turned around and studied her again, from the smooth, flushed skin of her unadorned face down to… Good God, he had to stop looking at her legs. She wasn’t dressed in a particularly provocative fashion. But there was something about her. Something about the whole package of this Amazon that made him think his mission was still possible. That he hadn’t blown his entire weekend. That he hadn’t ruined this assignment. Yet.

She shifted nervously beneath his blatant perusal, crossing her arms at her waist, pushing the nubs of her breasts against the thin cotton of her shirt and creating twin points that tantalized him further.

“You’ll do.”

“I’ll do what?”

This sexy, Amazon temptress was more than Cassie’s odd, naive roommate. She might well be Sean’s salvation.

“Caitlin, isn’t it?”

“Yes?”

“Today’s my thirty-second birthday.”

She hesitated. “Happy birthday.”

He turned on what he could salvage of his charm. “How would you like to give me the best birthday present of my life?”

CAITLIN FELT INDIGNANT anger flush through her from head to toe with a bright rosy heat. “Birthday present? How ’bout I give you a punch in the face?”

How dare he? Either Cassie’s Dear John was a dangerous sex fiend or he was making fun of her.

“What?” A look of stunned surprise filled his dark green eyes an instant before an answering blush crept up his neck. Then those same eyes narrowed in an angry squint as he waved aside her prickly pride. “That wasn’t a proposition. Not that kind, at any rate. But I do have a business proposition for you.”

She arched one eyebrow in doubt. “Is it any better than your last line?” She watched as he pushed up the tweed sleeve of his jacket and looked at his watch. “And quit checking the time. It’s rude. If you have to go somewhere, go. I’m not stopping you.”

Caitlin stiffened in cautious anticipation as his expressive face grew still. One second he was antsy, the next completely calm. Spooky. Cool in a Terminator kind of way, but spooky.

“I don’t have time to do this nice and subtle,” he announced. He pulled back the front of his coat and reached inside. “I’ll make it quick.”

That endless expanse of taut white T-shirt gave way to a band of black leather that curved over his shoulder and hung down beneath his arm. A holster, with a gun. A big, black, deadly looking gun. Make this quick?

“Oh my God.” Caitlin jumped back a step. Mr. Terminator was reaching for his gun! “Don’t shoot me!”

She reached for the nearest thing that looked like protection and came up with the nozzle on the vacuum cleaner. She held it in front of her in both hands like a weapon.

Sean froze. He looked at the nozzle. He looked at Caitlin. He looked down to where his hand hovered beside the holster. Then he looked at her again, studying her frightened expression with a cockeyed squint that indicated he thought she was the crazy person here.

Their gazes held for about two seconds, just long enough for her courage to waver. Then he was moving again. All-business. He pulled a leather wallet from an inside jacket pocket. “Don’t worry, McCormick. I guess I should have used a little more finesse in my invitation. But I’m afraid smooth moves just aren’t my style.” He inclined his head toward the nozzle she wielded in her hand. “If it’s any consolation, neither is shooting a woman who could suck my brains out.”

Suck? Caitlin’s heart tripped an extra beat. A raw rush of heat and pressure pounded between her legs and left her lightheaded. Sex? This guy wanted her to…? Her gaze flew to his crotch. She’d never. She wanted. She wouldn’t. “How dare you!”

“Here.” He flipped open his wallet. Inside she saw an official-looking ID and a polished brass badge. Uh-oh. “I’m Special Agent Sean Maddox, ma’am. I’m with the FBI.”

The nervous excitement that had pounded through her body flooded her neck and face with embarrassment. Sucking. The vacuum. He’d been talking about the vacuum. Of course. Idiot.

“FBI?”

Ignoring the aftershocks of sexual frustration and indignation that were slow to die, she gathered her wits and took the wallet in a tentative grasp. She studied it a few moments. The picture matched. He hadn’t been smiling when this ID photo was taken, either. U.S. Department of Justice. Federal Bureau of Investigation. Sean Michael Maddox. DOB 05/29/71.

“It is your birthday,” she murmured out loud, but read on. New England Bureau Administrative Chief. Though the tension eased from her posture, suspicion quickly took its place.

She handed back the wallet. “Your ID says ‘Administrative Chief’, not ‘special agent.’ And Virginia’s a little out of your New England territory. Either you’re a liar or that’s fake.”

“I assure you, my work with the FBI is very real.” He returned the wallet to his pocket, making a dramatic effort to show her that he wasn’t going anywhere near his gun. “What I’m about to tell you can’t go beyond this apartment, Miss McCormick.”

Oh God. That sounded serious. Dangerous. His warning, articulated with just the barest indication of a foreign accent, sounded like a line right out of a James Bond movie.

Interesting.

The aftershocks of emotion inside her gained momentum.

“You mean it’s a secret?”

“Top secret.”

Despite her distrust of Agent Maddox or Chief Maddox or whoever the hell this distracting hulk of male animal was, the right side of her brain kicked in, pushing logic and protestations aside. He was about to share a government secret with her. Caitlin breathed in deeply, giving her brain plenty of oxygen to fuel her imagination. She was about to become privy to some real cloak-and-dagger information.

“Is Cassie in trouble with the FBI?” she asked.

“No. But she was going to help me with a time-sensitive case. A mutual friend gave me her name. She was going to provide my cover this weekend while I conducted an undercover investigation.” He paused to read Caitlin’s reaction, then continued without comment. “Since she’s unavailable, I’m asking you to take her place. I need you to be my mistress so I can gain access to an exclusive couples-only resort.”

This man was asking her to take part in an investigation? To travel? To serve her country? To assume a secret role? To be a man’s mistress?

Her father would have a cow.

“Me?”

“You.”

She glanced down at her brother Travis’s USMC T-shirt and the cutoff jeans she wore. She glanced at the vacuum nozzle she still held like a defensive weapon between them.

When she lifted her gaze back to his, his calm green eyes revealed nothing but the fact that his offer was serious. “You want me to be your mistress this weekend?”

He swiped a hand across his jaw and raised his eyes to the ceiling. Caitlin could only guess what this show of patience was costing him.

When he nailed her with those amazingly green eyes—no blue or gray to corrupt their mossy hue—she saw he was all-business again. “I need you to pretend to be my mistress. Pretend,” he emphasized. “Pleasure Cove Island is a haven for rich and powerful couples to get away for the weekend without any public scrutiny. No press. No phone lines. The Bureau has given me a fake background. As a Bureau chief, I have the clout to warrant an invitation. But I can’t very well go to a couples-only resort by myself without raising suspicion, and that’s the last thing I want to do. I need to find answers, and I need to find them quickly.”

“Answers to what?”

“Dammit, lady, I don’t have time to answer all your questions.” His patience snapped and he stalked down the hall to the front door. He had it open and was halfway out when he braced his hand against the open frame and stopped. His broad back rippled with a powerful shrug, and Caitlin realized the width and strength of him was all-man, and not due to the cut of the sport coat.

She held her own breath as she listened to his lungs fill and empty with cleansing breaths of air. When he finally turned around to face her, the anger was gone. But he still wasn’t smiling.

“I can’t give you all the details,” he explained. “Suffice it to say two former guests of Pleasure Cove Island have met with…unfortunate circumstances. One just resigned at the peak of a public career. The other is dead.”

“Dead?” Could the man sound any more detached from his feelings? Caitlin scooped her hair back from her temples. The more Sean Maddox talked, the more convincing his story became. She was already physically attracted to him. He gave the beast of her sexual fantasies a compelling, if not quite handsome, face.

His request for her help played into every escapist fantasy she’d ever had while trying to spice up her humdrum life. But now he was sounding as if this assignment was real. That the need for her help was real.

What should she do? What would her father do? He’d take action. If there was a problem, he’d do something about it, and deal with the consequences later. Her brothers had the same take-charge mindset. But all three would tell her to stay home. To stay safe. Think of your health. Think of your reputation. They’d tell her to take care of herself, while they tackled the problem for her.

But her father and brothers couldn’t help Agent Maddox with this problem. They weren’t women. They weren’t available.

They weren’t here. Now.

A small spark of determination lit inside her. Like a fuse traveling toward its explosive destination, it fired along her nerve endings, heating her blood and giving strength to an idea.

“Would this weekend be dangerous?” She hugged the vacuum hose to her chest, half-afraid of giving in to the burning desire that was slowly consuming her. “You said someone died.”

“Not on the island itself. He was murdered in his hotel room after returning from the island. This is strictly an information-gathering mission. Otherwise, the Bureau wouldn’t consider civilian involvement. There may be some risk involved, I suppose—the movers and shakers of the world don’t like to be deceived.”

“No one does.” Her terse reply was both an agreement and a challenge for him to be completely honest.

Sean released his grip on the door and stepped back inside. Even though it brought him only a few inches closer Caitlin felt the power of his vow reaching out and touching her as he said, “I promise, if things do turn dangerous, I’ll give you all the protection I can. And I’ll get you out of there as soon as humanly possible.”

Caitlin imagined that his protection would be a serious force to be reckoned with. The idea that this Terminator would put his life on the line for hers was at once reassuring and…stimulating. Her father and brothers served their country and protected its citizens with equal fervor. Why couldn’t she?

And pretending to be his mistress? Let’s see. What was the downside of having an extraordinarily powerful and sexy man acting like her lover? If the other guests could buy the fact that Sean Maddox wanted to be with her, it wouldn’t be the worst way to spend a weekend.

Sexy man.

Vacation resort.

Serving her country.

Living out a lifelong fantasy.

Hmm. Downside?

She was back to her father having that cow.

But he was still on his boat in Chesapeake Bay. Ethan was in Washington, D.C., Travis in North Carolina. They couldn’t fret or dictate when they didn’t know something was going on.

“You said this was top secret. Does that mean I can’t tell anyone where I’m going or what I’m doing? Not even my family?”

“Not a soul.”

Dad and Ethan and Travis would never know what sweet little Caitlin was up to.

Caitlin was tempted. Oh, Lordy, she was tempted. But how could she be sure this wasn’t really just some sick way to pick up women? Could she trust Cassie’s judgment about the man? Her roommate had been willing to go. Until a better offer came along.

But this was likely to be the best—most exciting—offer Caitlin was ever going to get.

“Listen, I know you don’t know if you can trust me. But you’ve got about two seconds to make a decision. Maine is a long way from here.” Sean shifted uncomfortably on his feet, the first real sign of any emotion beyond anger and impatience. “I don’t ask for favors from many people, Miss McCormick, because I don’t like to be disappointed. But I’m asking you to help me now. For your country.”

“I’m the only one who can help?” He didn’t answer her. But the steely set of his jaw told her he hadn’t found it easy to ask for her assistance. Caitlin finally set down the vacuum hose.

He expected her to be one of those people who disappointed him.

He expected her to say no.

She decided to act strictly on impulse. It was a liberating feeling. She didn’t know if it was the McCormick in her—ready to do her patriotic duty—or the good girl in her, anxious to please those around her. Maybe it was the dreamer who had waited far too long to crash out of her sheltered life and have a real adventure.

It might even have been her woman’s heart deciding. The heart that wanted to rekindle Sean Maddox’s faith in the world.

“I’ll go with you on two conditions, Agent Maddox.”

He rolled his shoulders back, giving the false appearance that he was relaxing his stance. His eyes still refused to show hope. “What are they?”

“That my father never finds out where I am this weekend.” She shrugged, hoping she wouldn’t regret this impulse, hoping Agent Maddox wouldn’t regret it, either. “And that we stop by a post office somewhere on the way to Maine so I can mail my rent check.”

“Done.” Caitlin barely had time to grab the rent envelope and her purse before he pulled her out the door.

Carnal Innocence

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