Читать книгу Tall, Dark and Daring: The Admiral's Bride - Suzanne Brockmann - Страница 9

ZOE ITCHED TO CALL PETER.

Five months ago, she would have. She would have called on a secured line and she would have said, “What does it mean—a man’s been a widower for nearly three years, and he still wears his wedding ring?”

Peter would’ve said, “That’s obvious. He uses the ring to keep women from coming too close.”

And she would have said, “I think he still loves her.”

And Peter would’ve snorted and said, “Love’s a myth. He just hasn’t met anyone who could replace his dead wife. But you better believe when he does, that ring will come off faster than you can spit. The hell with him. What do you say you and I meet in Boston next weekend and set the Ritz-Carlton aflame?”

But that’s what Peter would’ve said five months ago. Before he’d discovered that love was indeed not a myth.

Her name was Marita and she was a TV news anchor based in Miami. She was of Cuban descent and lovely, but Zoe wasn’t even remotely jealous. Well, maybe she was a little jealous—but only of the fact that Peter, restless, hungry, insatiable, cynical superagent Peter McBride had finally found complete inner peace.

Zoe was jealous of that. She’d liked Peter—she’d even loved him more than a little, but she knew just from one conversation with him after he’d met Marita that he finally had a shot at true happiness.

And Peter deserved that.

Zoe had liked talking to him, liked the way he could always make her laugh. And she had liked making love with him the few times a year that their work for the Agency brought them into each other’s presence.

But she’d known from the start there could be no permanence in their relationship. She was too like him. Too restless, too hungry, too damned insatiable, too jaded by a world bent on destroying itself.

She hadn’t spoken to Peter in five months, assuming his new bride wouldn’t appreciate his getting phone calls from a former lover. But she missed his friendship. She missed talking to him.

She missed the sex, too. It had been safe. She’d never once been in danger of completely losing her heart.

“So,” she said to Peter, even though he wasn’t there, “what does it mean that I’m packing my sexiest underwear and this little black nightgown?”

“To wear in Montana in September?” he would have mused, lifting one elegant eyebrow. “You’re in trouble, Lange.”

“You wouldn’t believe the way he looked at me in that elevator.” Zoe closed her eyes, momentarily melting just from the heat of the memory. “Dear God, I am in trouble.”

“Doing your boss is bad office politics,” Peter would have reminded her. “But on the other hand, he’s not really your boss, is he? Pat Sullivan is. So, go for him. You’ve been fantasizing about the guy for years—how could you not go for him? And if he’s looking at you like that … I’m surprised you didn’t make a move right then and there. It wouldn’t’ve taken much to disable the security cams in the elevator and …”

“He’d been giving me go-away signals from the moment we met.” She pulled her warmest sweaters from her closet shelf. Her warmest sweaters—and her skimpiest tank tops. Shorts. Her bathing suit even. It was a bikini—Rio cut. Not quite a thong, but not quite demure, either. Maybe she’d get lucky and they’d have Indian summer. “Besides, at the time I thought he was still married.”

“Ooh, there are those upright, golden, Girl Scout morals, shining through again.” When Peter said it like that, it was as if it were something she should be ashamed of.

“He seemed so embarrassed by the fact that he finds me attractive. As if it made him feel, you know, guilty.” She’d come full circle. “He definitely still loves her. In his mind, he is still married.”

“So what are you going to do?” Peter would’ve asked.

Zoe zipped and shouldered her bag. “He’s a really good guy, Pete. I’m going to try to be his friend.”

He’d always hated it when she called him Pete. “And for that you definitely need all that underwear from Victoria’s Secret?”

“Six missing canisters of Trip X,” she said, and Peter’s evil spirit was instantly exorcised, instantly gone.

She had a job to do. A very, very important, life-or-death job.

Zoe grabbed her briefcase, grabbed her laptop and locked her apartment door without looking back.

DAY TWO. OH-THREE-HUNDRED.

Jake had been out most of the night, silently creeping along the perimeter of the CRO compound with Cowboy Jones. Lieutenant Jones’s father was a rear admiral. Jake had figured that out of everyone on the team, Jones would be most at ease with buddying up with a man of his rank.

He’d been wrong.

Ever since they’d inserted in Montana, his entire team had been treating him with kid gloves. Let me carry that for you, Admiral. I’ll take care of that, Admiral. Why don’t you just stand aside and let me handle that, Admiral. Sit down, Admiral. You’re getting in the way.

Well, okay. No one had said that last bit, but Jake knew they’d been thinking it.

Even Billy Hawken, the closest thing to a son Jake had ever been blessed with, had pulled Jake aside to tell him in a low voice that the technological advances in the surveillance gear in just the past few years had changed both the hardware and the software completely. If Jake needed any help understanding the readouts or if he needed any assistance with the equipment, Billy was standing by.

And no doubt if Jake needed helped cutting his food, Billy would do that for him, too.

What, was he suddenly ninety years old? And hell, even if he was ninety years old, that didn’t automatically mean his brain had turned to oatmeal.

As they’d done the sneak and peek, Jones kept asking him if he’d seen enough, if he’d wanted to turn around and head back to camp.

The night had been crisply cold, but Jake had wanted to examine every square inch of the CRO compound he could see from the outer fence. He’d squinted through his night-vision glasses until his head had ached, and then he’d squinted some more. He’d done a complete circuit, and he’d lingered longer than he otherwise might have at the main gate, simply to show Jones he was capable of doing a complete, thorough job.

Except Lucky and Wes had been sent after them, to see what was holding them up. Jake and Cowboy had run into the pair on the trail. It was obvious that his team had sent them out as a search-and-rescue party to drag the old admiral in from wherever he’d gotten himself entangled in barbed wire.

It was discouraging, to say the least.

Jake needed these men to trust him. He needed their support, one hundred percent.

Because he was going in there. He’d figured out a plan—and Zoe Lange’s somewhat different surveillance tonight had given him cause to believe it would work.

She sat across from him now, in the main trailer.

Bobby and Wes had gotten hold of four beat-up old recreational vehicles that afternoon, and the SEALs had already outfitted them with enough surveillance equipment to make a destroyer sit low in the water. They were parked in a KOA campground fifteen miles south of Belle—just a group of happy campers, in town to do some hunting.

Zoe stood up and opened the refrigerator, helping herself to a can of soda. Something without caffeine. She didn’t look tired despite the late hour, but then again, he hadn’t expected her to.

Jake had been taking care to keep his distance from her from the moment he’d stepped on the plane at Andrews. He hadn’t gotten too close, had barely let himself look at her. But he allowed himself to watch her now as she spoke.

“The name of the bar is Mel’s, and it’s owned by Hal—Harold—Francke, spelled with a c-k-e. I didn’t meet him. Apparently he doesn’t come in often on Wednesday nights. The waitress I did meet was named Cindy Allora. She said Hal’s always looking for new hired help.” She smiled. “I guess he’s a dirty old man with a wandering pair of hands, and the turnover rate of waitresses at Mel’s is high.”

A dirty old man. Jake tried not to wince visibly as she sat at the table.

Zoe looked different tonight. The flower-print T-shirt was gone. She was dressed all in black. Slim black flares, black boots, black hooded sweatshirt that slipped off one shoulder to reveal her smooth tanned skin and a body-hugging black tank top, its thin straps unable to hide the straps of her black bra.

She was wearing quite a bit of makeup, too. Dark liner around her eyes, thick mascara, deep red on her lips. She wore her hair down, loose and windswept around her shoulders.

She looked dangerous. Wild. Completely capable. And sexy as hell. Hal Francke would hire her on the spot. And then he’d be all over her.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Jake said. “Maybe you could get a job working checkout at the supermarket.”

She lifted an eyebrow lazily. “And I could communicate with you by semaphore flags when you came into town?” She leaned forward slightly. “You know as well as I do the CRO men come to town and go to the bar. Only the women go into the supermarket.”

Jake refused to let himself look down her shirt. He kept his gaze staunchly focused on her dark brown eyes. “It just … it seems unfair. A scientist of your knowledge and ability. I’m not only asking you to wait tables, but virtually guaranteeing you’re going to get groped as well.”

She laughed. “You haven’t worked with women much, have you, sir?”

“Not as team leader, no.”

“Let’s just say if it happens, it won’t be the first time I’ve been groped while on assignment. And if letting Hal Francke cop a feel in the back alley helps keep me where I’ll be of most assistance to you …” She spread her hands in a shrug.

Jake laughed in dismay. “God. You’re serious.”

“It’s no big deal.” She took a sip of her soda. “You know, Jake, I just don’t take sex as seriously as I think you do.”

Sex. God. How did their conversation get onto that topic? She was more than just dressed differently tonight, she was looking at him differently, too. Just a few days ago he’d felt bad because there hadn’t been a bit of attraction in her eyes. Now she was holding his gaze rather pointedly. Now she was smiling just a little bit too warmly.

It made him nervous as hell.

And they were talking about sex. But he couldn’t steer the conversation in a safer direction. Not yet. First he had to ask. “Are you telling me you’d sleep with this guy?”

“I think of my body as just another of my assets,” she told him, a small smile playing about the corners of her lips. “I don’t mind showing it off if it gets me closer to my goal. It’s amusing, actually, to see the way men can be manipulated—” she leaned closer again and lowered her voice “—just by the whispered suggestion of sex.” She laughed, and her eyes seemed to sparkle. “Look at you. Even you aren’t immune.”

“Me? I’m … I’m …” His face was heating in a blush, as if he were fourteen again. How did she know? He’d been purposely playing it super cool. Mr. Extra Laid Back. It had required superhuman effort, but he hadn’t looked down her shirt. His gaze slid there now, and he quickly shut his eyes. “I’m only human.” Damn, and he’d been trying so hard not to be.

“Try human male,” she said, laughter in her voice. “I swear, men fall into one of two categories. You have the men who are totally controlled by sex, and you have the men—like you—who spend all their time trying to protect women from the men who are totally controlled by sex. Either way, it’s a complete manipulation.”

She stood up, peeling off her sweatshirt. “I walk into Mel’s bar dressed in my little tank top. You’re sitting at the bar, and maybe you’re not controlled by sex per se. Maybe you don’t catch sight of me in the mirror and try to imagine me naked.”

Jake did his best not to react. How could she know? There was no way she could have read his mind.

She sat next to him, sliding onto the bench beside him. “Maybe I sit down next to you and you glance over, and you think, gee, what’s that nice woman doing in here alone? Maybe you don’t notice what I’m wearing, maybe it has no effect on you, and you think, gee, she has pretty eyes.” Her smile clearly said, yeah, right. “And you look up, and you notice about five big drunk guys getting ready to approach me, and you think, she’s not going to like it when those clowns put their hands all over her. And you stand up, you move closer. You’re ready to save the day.”

She smiled. “Like it or not, notice ‘em or not, babe, you’ve just been manipulated by my breasts.”

Jake had to laugh. He put his head in his hands.

“God, the awful thing is that you’re absolutely right. I just never thought of it that way.” He looked at her from between his fingers. “Look, we need to focus on how you’re going to get that waitressing job at Mel’s, and what’s going to happen after you’re established there.”

She stood up, slipping her sweatshirt over her shoulders. “Cindy invited me to a party at her friend Monica’s house on Saturday afternoon. Hal Francke is going to be there. I thought it would be smart to manipulate him into approaching and asking me to work for him. That way if anyone in the CRO gets suspicious and starts checking into me, they’ll find out I’m just another girl Hal found at some party. It’s a little less suspect than if I go into Mel’s and fill out a job application.”

“It’s also a little less certain,” Jake pointed out. “I mean, you don’t know for sure he’s going to offer you the job.”

Zoe gave him a look. “It’s a hot tub party, Jake. He’ll offer me the job.”

Hot tub. Jake cleared his throat. Hot tub.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep my bathing suit on,” she assured him with a smile.

Somehow that didn’t make him feel any better.

“So after I get this job waitressing at Mel’s, what then?” she asked. “I mean, obviously, I’ll be in place to act as a go-between for any communication between you and the rest of the team.”

He nodded. “It might be a while before I can come into town. I know the CRO rules are pretty complicated—I might have to pass some sort of loyalty test before I have free run of the place. But once I do come into the bar, I’ll, um …” He managed a weak smile. “Well, I’ll hit on you. I’m sorry—but I think that’s the cleanest way to explain why we’re going to spend so much time whispering into each other’s ears. If you could set it up—tell people you’re a little older than you really are, they might believe there could be something between us.”

Zoe’s heartbeat tripled in time. Jake Robinson was going to hit on her. They were going to spend time cozied up together. True, it was only to pass information, but she could go far on a fantasy like that. She kept her voice low and controlled. “I think we can make them believe we’re attracted to each other. Our difference in ages is not that big a deal.”

“I’m old enough to be your father.”

“So what? You can pretend you’re going through some kind of midlife crisis, and I’ll let everyone know I prefer more mature men. Experienced men.” Gorgeous, incredibly buff, blue-eyed, heroic men …

“I just don’t want it to come off as such an obvious setup. You know, the first time I come into the bar … A beautiful young woman like you …”

“Jake, the first time you go into that bar, the women are going to be lining up to meet you. I’ll have to fight to get to the front of that line.” She laughed in disbelief at the look on his face. “You’d think after fifty-three years of looking into the bathroom mirror every morning, you might’ve noticed you’re the most handsome man on the planet.”

His laughter was tinged with embarrassment. God, he really didn’t know what he looked like, did he?

“Well, thanks for your vote of confidence, but—”

Zoe wanted to reach for his hand to squeeze it, to reassure him that this would work, but she didn’t dare touch him.

“I’ll set everything up,” she said. “I’ll set up the fact that I’m looking to have a fling, too.”

“Not just a fling,” he corrected her almost apologetically. “I’m going to need a way to get you into the CRO compound. I’ll need your expertise in there to help me find the missing canisters of T-X. And the only way for a woman to get inside is …”

“Through marriage.”

Her laughter sounded almost giddy to her ears. This assignment was a dream assignment to start with, Hal Francke’s anticipated groping aside. She was working with Jake Robinson, the man who had always been her own personal poster model for the word hero. Whenever she’d imagined her perfect man, he’d always had Jake’s steely nerve, his long list of achievements, and, yes, his deep blue eyes.

And now this dream assignment was going to have her pretend she was marrying her hero. He was going to have to kiss her, hold her in his arms. To marry her. Could it possibly get any better?

Yes, he could kiss her, and mean it. And maybe, just maybe she could make that happen.

“It won’t be real,” he told her hastily, misreading her laughter. “The way I understand it, Christopher Vincent performs any wedding ceremonies among his followers. There’s no paperwork or licenses filled out. They don’t believe in state intervention when it comes to marriage.”

He looked at his hands, at the wedding ring he wore.

“It won’t be real,” he said again, as if he were trying to convince himself of that fact.

Zoe sat across from him, her elation instantly subdued. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked him quietly. “You’ll have to take off your wedding ring.”

Jake looked at his left hand again. “I know.” He fingered it with his thumb. “That’s okay. It doesn’t really mean anything anyway. We were only married a few days before she died.”

Wait a minute … “Crash told me you and Daisy were together for just short of forever.”

“Daisy didn’t believe in marriage,” he told her simply. “She only married me at the end, because it was the only thing she had left to give me.” He took off the ring, letting it spin on the table in front of him.

“You must really miss her.”

“Yeah. She was pretty incredible.” He caught the ring deftly, midspin, and slipped it into his pants pocket. “I should probably get used to not wearing this.”

He looked so sad, Zoe ached for him. “You know, Jake—we could think of another way to do this.”

He met her eyes. “I suppose I could call Pat Sullivan and see if Gregor Winston’s available to take over for you.”

Zoe reacted. “Gregor’s not half as qualified as—”

Jake was smiling at her. “As you are,” he finished for her. “Yeah, that’s why I requested you.”

“But he’s a man,” she pointed out unnecessarily. “He could get into the CRO without having to marry you.”

“Thank goodness.” Jake’s smile faded as he gazed at her. “Look, I’m all right with this, Zoe. But if it makes you feel uncomfortable …”

She looked at his hands, now ringless. He had big hands, with neat nails and broad, strong fingers. She even found his hands outrageously attractive.

Uncomfortable was not the word to describe the way she felt about this assignment.

She tried to make a joke. “Are you kidding? I have no problem letting Hal Francke grope me. Why should it bother me if I have to let you do the same?”

It wasn’t true. The part about Hal. Despite what she’d told Jake, she hated it when men touched her, when she had to use her body in any way while on the job. But there were times when dressing seductively got her further. And as for letting men touch her …

She’d learned to pretend it was nothing, to be flip about it. She was a tough, professional Agency operative. She shouldn’t give a damn about something as meaningless as that. And although she also pretended her casualness extended all the way to the act of sex, she’d always drawn the line well before that. Always.

“Are you telling me you’d sleep with this guy?” Jake had asked about Hal Francke.

She’d purposely sidestepped his question, avoiding a direct answer. It wouldn’t do her a bit of good to make her team leader believe she needed to be protected. As nice as it might be in some fantasy to have Jake ready to rush to her side, to protect her from the Hal Franckes of the world, this was reality.

And if he thought she was weak—in any way—she’d spend this entire mission inside the safety of the surveillance van.

“I’m going to have to make it look real,” he told her. “You know, when I come into the bar.”

“I will, too,” she told him. “So don’t freak out when I grab your butt, all right?”

He laughed, but it was decidedly halfhearted, and she knew what he was thinking. The last woman to grab his butt had been his wife.

Zoe pushed herself up and out of the booth, tossing her empty soda can into the recycling bin. “Do you want …” She stopped. It seemed so forward of her to ask—and that wasn’t even considering her suggestion implied a lack of ability on the admiral’s part.

But he could read her mind. “You’re afraid I’m going to get stiff,” he said, then winced realizing his poor word choice. “Tense up,” he quickly corrected himself. “You’re afraid I’m going to tense up.”

Zoe couldn’t keep from laughing, and Jake joined in, shaking his head. “Jeez,” he said. “This is awkward, isn’t it?”

She held out her hand to him. “Come here.”

He hesitated, just looking at her, a curious mix of emotions in his eyes. He shook his head. “Zoe, I don’t think …”

“Just come here.”

With a sigh, he slid from the booth, the powerful muscles in his arms standing out in sharp relief as he pushed himself up. Dressed the way he was in a body-hugging black T-shirt and black BDU pants, she could see he was in better shape than most men half his age. He looked like some kind of dream come true. Why couldn’t he see that?

“I don’t need to, you know, practice this,” he said, even as he took her hand. “It’s not like it’s something I’ve forgotten how to do.”

“But this way, the mystery’s gone,” she told him. “This way you don’t have to spend any time in the bar thinking about the fact that Daisy was the last woman you held in your arms. This way you’ll be able to concentrate on making it look real, on getting the job done.”

She slipped her arms around him, but he just stood there, arms at his side, swearing very, very softly.

“Come on, Jake,” she said. “This is just make-believe.” She said it as much to remind herself of that fact.

He smelled too good. He felt too good. His body fit too perfectly with hers.

And slowly, very slowly, he put his arms around her.

Zoe rested her head on his shoulder, aware of the solidness of his chest against her breasts, the tautness of his thighs against hers, the complete warmth of his arms.

He slowly rested his cheek against her head, and she felt him sigh.

“You all right?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” He pulled back, away from her, forcing a smile. “Thank you. This was a … smart idea. Because I am a little tense, aren’t I?”

“You should probably kiss me.”

He looked as if she’d suggested he use the neighbor’s cat for target practice. “Oh, I don’t think—”

“Jake, I’m sorry, but you are not a little tense, you are so tense. If you come into that bar and hold me so politely like that, as if I’m your grandmother …”

He couldn’t argue, because he knew it was true. “I’m not sure I’m ready to—”

“Then maybe we better come up with another plan. Maybe we should be trying to figure out a way to get Cowboy or Lucky into the CRO compound. If you can’t handle this—”

Something sparked in his eyes. “I didn’t say I couldn’t handle this. I meant that I wasn’t ready to deal with this right now.”

“If you can’t do it now, how’re you going to do it in a week or two?” she asked. “Come on, Jake. Try again. And this time hold me like you want to be inside me.”

The something that had sparked in his eyes flared into fire. “Well, hell, that shouldn’t be too hard to do.”

He pulled her to him almost roughly and held her tightly, his thigh between her legs, her body anchored against him by his hand on her rear end.

She felt almost faint. “Much better,” she said weakly. “Now kiss me.”

He didn’t move. He just gazed at her, that hypnotizing heat smoldering in his eyes.

After several long moments, he still didn’t move, so she kissed him.

It was a small kiss, a delicate caress of his beautiful mouth with her lips. And he still didn’t move.

But he was breathing hard as she pulled back to look at him, as if he’d just run a five-mile race. His eyes were the most brilliant shade of blue she’d ever seen in her life.

She kissed him again, and this time he finally moved.

He lowered his head and caught her mouth with his and then, God, he was kissing her. Really kissing her. Soul kissing her.

She angled her head to kiss him even more deeply, pulling his tongue hard into her mouth, wanting more, more.

He tasted like sweetened coffee, like everything she’d ever wanted, like a lifetime of fantasies finally coming true.

He pressed her even more tightly against him as she clung to him, as still he kissed her, harder, deeper, endlessly, his passion—like hers—skyrocketing completely off the scale, his hands skimming her body as she strained to get closer, closer ….

And then Jake finally tore his mouth away from hers. “My God.” He looked completely shocked, thoroughly stunned.

Zoe still held on to him tightly, her knees too weak to support her weight. “That was … very believable.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, breathing hard. “Very believable.”

“Good to know we can make that seem … so believable.”

He pulled free from her embrace and turned away. “Yeah. That’s good to know.”

She had to lean against the counter.

“Look,” he said, his back to her, “it’s really late and I have some things I need to do before morning, so …”

He wanted her to leave. Zoe moved carefully toward the door. “I hope sleep is on that list.” She tried to sound lighthearted, tried to sound as if her entire world hadn’t just tilted on its axis.

He laughed quietly. “Yeah, well, sleep’s pretty low priority these days. If I don’t get to it tonight, there’s always tomorrow.”

She paused with her hand on the doorknob. “Jake, that kiss—it wasn’t real. We just made it look real.”

He turned and gazed at her then, the expression in his eyes completely unreadable.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know that.”