Authors: Sara Craven
She nodded again, not minding his orders in the least. He was running the op and he knew best.
Eric drew back, still holding her, and gave her a tight smile. “All right. Do not forget.” Then he drew his bottom lip between his teeth and looked pensive. Tension played between them like a high-voltage current.
Dawn became very aware of his hands on her, the subtle catch in his breathing, the intoxicating sandalwood scent of him this close to her. His gaze prowled over her like a hungry lion.
Suddenly, he released her and left her there alone, quickly closing the door behind him.
Something had happened in that brief span of time and Dawn could not explain it. Sexual attraction peaking big-time, of course, but more than that. It was as if she had felt his thoughts, his worry, even a fear that he was getting too close to her and yet not close enough. Or maybe she was projecting her own thoughts onto him because she was so reluctant to admit they were hers.
She shook her head to clear it and went to the sink to splash cold water on her face. Must be a bizarre case of jet lag, she figured. That man was seriously meddling with her objectivity and professionalism. It had to stop.
Eric felt a little more in control as he set up the laptop he’d brought with him. He sent e-mails to several contacts in Iran, a few to Saudi Arabia and a couple to various places in Europe. The messages were not important, merely for show should anyone tap into what he was doing. Unnecessary detail, maybe, but he liked to be thorough.
Later tonight, he would log on to the address furnished in the message from the seller. Instructions for the next leg of their trip could come through, then. If not, he would know he was being checked out very thoroughly. His identity would be verified with former photos and disinformation Sextant had circulated for this very purpose.
Someone would surely be comparing the fingerprints that were on file as Al-Dayal’s with those he had provided on everything he had touched since entering the hotel. Dawn’s had been erased from her actual records completely and replanted in all the right places. If the one doing this deal had the resources, this portion of the mission could take several days.
The concierge called and offered to set up a sightseeing expedition for the Al-Dayals tomorrow. Eric pretended to vacillate. Should he allow his beloved wife the exposure? He even asked how private they would be.
The concierge insisted they would not be troubled by the rabble of tourists or jostled by the locals. In the end, Eric reluctantly agreed to a day of fun, sun and freedom from his spouse’s usual confinement. He was the soul of benevolence, the man had told him.
Yeah, right. Eric figured Dawn would kick his butt if he left her in the room while he went out to play sheikh. Besides, this could be the setup for contact with Quince.
“Aurora!” he called to her through her bedroom door. “I have wonderful news. Come here.”
She entered, wearing a bright summer shift the color of raspberries. He smiled at her as a fond husband might. “Would you care to go sailing?”
“Oh yes, master,” she answered with only the smallest trace of sarcasm.
He shot her a dark look of warning.
She smiled innocently and sat beside him, her hands folded primly on her knees. “Where shall we sail, Jarad?”
“About the islands,” he replied. “Perhaps we shall find a secluded beach and go for a nice swim. Would you like that, my heart?”
“Oh, above
all!”
she cried, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly on the mouth.
Eric could have spanked her. Damn, she was overacting. Overacting to a wild and delicious degree, he realized as he abandoned himself and enjoyed her mouth to the fullest. His entire body reacted with a vengeance, blood rushing south from his brain like a tidal wave.
He broke the kiss, then took another angle, pressing his chest to hers until they were nearly reclining on the sofa. Only when he felt the increased pressure of her palms against his chest did he relent.
Damn, she was hot. And he was hotter. Both were hyperventilating.
She laughed as she escaped his clutches and danced back into her bedroom, shaking her finger at him over her shoulder. A quicksilver imp, that girl. And wicked.
For a minute, he was tempted to follow, just to see where things might go. But he knew how out of hand he had gotten with just the kiss, so he stayed put.
No matter how many days it lasted, this was going to be a long, long assignment.
The next morning, in deference to her role, Dawn donned modest white slacks and a loose, flowing shirt that covered her arms. She knotted her hair in a bun at her nape and covered most of it with a floral scarf in soft pastels—colors she could never have worn comfortably as a redhead.
From the jewelry case someone had provided along
with the new wardrobe, she chose gold hoop earrings and numerous bangles for her wrists. She looked prim but fashionable, she thought, as she examined her image in the mirror. Rich, too. The clothes were fantastic, their labels indicating that whoever bought them had pulled no punches where price was concerned. Had Eric chosen these and ordered them? The only opportunity he’d had was when she slept at his house. Maybe Mercier was responsible.
When she emerged from the bedroom, he smiled his approval, slipping a cell phone into his shirt pocket. He had also dressed in white, wearing shorts, a knit shirt and sneakers. It emphasized the darkness of his skin. The man looked scrumptious, but she decided she preferred him blond and without facial hair.
He stood immediately, resting his hands on his hips as he appraised her. “Excellent choice of apparel.”
“Gracias.
May we go now?” Dawn could not wait to get out of their rooms, or the goldfish bowl, as she was coming to think of it. Having to be seriously conscious of every single move and sound she made was driving her crazy.
He reached for her hand and she gave it. The warmth of his palm and those long, strong fingers laced between hers felt reassuring. Confidence seemed to emanate from his pores and bolster her own. Not that she didn’t think she could handle the mission, but she knew she could never have done it on her own. He knew all the ropes. Master, indeed.
Clay Senate, or Adil, as he was to be called, and Ressam joined them at the elevator. Dawn lowered her gaze to the floor, but only after a lightning-quick assessment of the men who would protect them. Ressam had left off his ghutra. Clay kept his. Both men wore slacks with floral cotton shirts worn untucked to hide the weapons she knew
they carried. Covered up as she was, she felt naked without hers.
She remained silent while Eric barked a few terse instructions to the men in Farsi. Were there cameras in the elevators, too? she wondered, then decided they were assuming so just in case there were.
Maybe with so many international travelers and no rules governing surveillance, the nooks and crannies of everywhere contained wires and cameras.
God, this was not what she had expected or trained for. Undercover work was not her forté. She much preferred doing sanctioned breaking and entering. Even the official hacking she had done on the computers back at headquarters before being transferred was preferable to this.
Surely on the sailboat it would be safe to be themselves again, at least for the duration of their day trip.
As if he had read her mind, Eric spoke. “Live it, Aurora,” he said quietly as they exited the hotel and headed for the car that she supposed would take them to the marina.
Well, that killed that hope, Dawn thought. She had to become Aurora with no hope for a rest until this was over. “Yes, Jarad,” she replied softly. “With relish, I promise.”
“Good little wife,” he replied under his breath. “Allah be praised.”
Necessary role-playing aside, Dawn heartily wished she could kick him in the shins.
“T
he
Angeline?
What a lovely name for a boat,” Dawn said softly as she stepped carefully on board the sailing yacht. “She is very beautiful.”
Eric had gone ahead of her. Ladies first did not apply as far as he was concerned. He appeared to be enjoying this charade of theirs to the max.
Dawn had kissed him last night, not just for any cameras that might be running, but also to show him he wasn’t calling
all
the shots, at least not between them. The problem was that the kiss had backfired on her and she had almost lost control of it, along with her good sense. The man was no novice when it came to lip-locks, that was for sure.
He grasped her waist and lifted her onto the deck. “A top-of-the-line, forty-two-footer,” he replied to her observation about the boat. “Do you know anything of yachts, my sweet?” he asked, steadying her as if she were fragile.
Dawn shook her head. “No, I have never sailed.” The absolute truth. All her life, she had hated deep water. It was not a phobia, exactly, and she could swim very well, but all the same she didn’t like deep water.
She glanced warily at the man standing several feet away, watching him through squinty eyes. The brown face beneath his captain’s cap looked weathered, his body, lean and mean. His khaki shorts and shirt resembled a uniform. The white cap looked too new. She quickly lowered her gaze and covered her mouth with her hand as if automatically attempting to hide her face from him.
“Our captain, Mr. Kerosian,” Eric announced, stepping between her and the man. “If you would go below, my dove, we will cast off. You may return to deck in a while when I come for you.”
Dawn did as ordered, trying all at once to remain regal while hurrying to obey. She thought she had performed pretty well. Eric should have no reason at all to fuss about her stepping out of character.
Once in the salon, her curiosity got the better of her. She tossed her tote bag onto one of the suede-upholstered lounges, then plundered through every inch of the efficient little kitchen, the head and the two sleeping cabins. It wasn’t on the scale of the private jet, but it was very luxurious for a relatively small yacht.
Though this was supposed to be a day trip and they would not be sleeping aboard, Dawn figured she might never get a chance to examine a pleasure yacht like this one again unless she found she loved sailing and then won a lottery. Neither seemed all that likely. The boat was sleek, serene and ultracomfortable.
“Is your stomach surviving, little landlubber?” Eric asked.
“Admirably,” she answered, greeting him with a lift
of her chin. “I believe I am a, how would you say it, an old salty.”
He laughed and glanced around the salon, taking it all in much more quickly than Dawn had done. “Well done. Come above and we will watch together for dolphins.”
Dawn retied the scarf to cover her hair and buttoned her shirt up to her neck. She didn’t want to risk sunburn through her artificially darkened skin. And there was her newly acquired modesty to consider.
He took her directly to the bow where they stood against the rail facing forward, Eric’s arms braced on either side of her as he held the steel railing. She remained very still when he bent down and placed a kiss on her cheek, then settled his mouth next to her ear. “This is no ordinary sailboat for hire.”
“I noticed,” she replied, not daring even now to abandon her persona. “You are a very important man who would never settle for the ordinary, even temporarily.”
“No one can hear us here. The
Angeline
is custom-made, outfitted for a private and very wealthy owner, not for tourist day trips, even for one such as Jarad Al-Dayal. I want you to be prepared. I’m certain Quince arranged for this. We might be sailing directly to his stronghold now, wherever that is. Unless this trip is simply a diversion to keep us busy until he has verified my identity. I don’t believe Captain Kerosian knows which yet until he gets a call.”
“I wish I were armed,” she said.
One of his hands disappeared from the rail and a second later snaked around her waist to the buttons at the middle of her shirt front. Cold steel and a warm hand slid inside the gap he had unfastened. She sucked in her breath and he tucked a pistol beneath the waistband of her slacks. He smoothed the fabric down over the weapon. Dawn’s heart fluttered.
“Your security blanket,” he murmured with another kiss near her ear.
Dawn sighed her thanks and rested her head back against his chest, slipping back into her role as Aurora. For a long time they stood there, gazing out over the Aegean.
Suddenly, she saw them. “Look! Dolphins!” she cried, pointing. “Just as you predicted.”
“What a sight,” he declared as she turned to meet his gaze. “You are almost as beautiful as the moment I first saw you.”
“Almost?” she asked, frowning at him.
“But not quite,” he answered. “That
is
a sincere compliment, by the way.”
“Then I thank you.”
Why had he said that? Probably to insure that she didn’t screw things up because of her independent nature. And maybe he figured she needed to hold on to her real identity. He must know how much she hated acting subservient.
“You are doing great so far,” he said, corroborating her assumption about his praise. Yep, he was pulling strings. Handling her like a pro. What else should she have expected—that he was really interested in her as a woman?
Having him take a serious interest in her was not one of her ambitions, anyway. As it stood now, she had only two goals. She wanted to be known as the best damn intelligence agent in her group, and to help enhance the world’s opinion of her profession, specifically female agents. To that end, she used every skill she had learned and threw herself into every mission, regardless of the personal danger. Her second aspiration did deal with men, in a way—she intended to steer clear of them emotionally and restrict her trust, at least in the personal areas of her life.
She seemed to lack the necessary intuition that most women had, and therefore had suffered not one, but two
relatively sharp kicks in the teeth. She simply was no good at figuring out men and how they thought, and this particular man gave new meaning to the word
enigmatic.