Necessary Force (9 page)

Oh, he would hover at her shoulder when she showed him her day’s work on the computer. He sat forward when they were talking as if everything she said interested him. Worst offense of all? When she wanted to be alone, he retreated into silence. Oh, she might look up to find him staring at her with an expression that made her want to cross the room and jump his bones. But he always looked away. Or got up and went to do something in the kitchen.

Georgie turned from the window and looked at Zander. “This has to stop.”

Zander made a whiny sound and lowered his head between his paws. Maybe that was doggy for “leave me out of it.”

She had thought about it all day. She was going to call Agent Clinton and demand to have the privacy of her apartment back. If she couldn’t have Brad, at least she would have her peace of mind back.

When she heard Brad’s key in the lock, she hurried toward the bathroom. She needed a long and very cold shower to think things over before she faced him tonight.

Fifteen minutes later, her body wrapped in a towel that covered the essentials but left every inch of her legs bare, she walked out into her bedroom as she toweled her hair dry. It took only a few seconds before a sensation like a breath of sudden warm air told her she being watched. She turned her head and froze.

Brad was staring at her through the open doorway from the living room.

She had expected him to be hunched over his laptop, as usual. Instead he was sitting on the sofa. His legs were stretched out before him and his fingers were laced over his flat belly. He seemed perfectly still yet she could feel tension coming off him in waves that took her breath away.

Compelled to find out the reason why, she moved to the doorway. “Is something wrong?”

He shrugged, which she took to mean it was nothing he wanted to talk about. His brooding gaze told a completely different story.

That hot, heavy gaze moved over her and everywhere it paused, she felt her skin heat up until she was tingling from head to foot. If not for the towel, he would know that her nipples had budded. But maybe he knew anyway. His eyes seem to glint in the low light of a nearby lamp.

She swung her hair to one side, continuing to dry it with her towel. He watched her every move, sitting so still that the room hummed with anticipation like the quiet before a summer thunderstorm. In fact, after enduring a few more seconds of his staring, she snapped.

“Okay. That’s it.” She tossed her hair towel onto the floor. “What exactly is wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He stood up and reached for Zander’s leash. “I need to be somewhere.”

“The hell you do!”

She came toward him quickly with no plan in mind. She kind of barged into him, his bigger, heavier body absorbing the unexpected shock of hers with more grace than she would have managed had it been the other way around.

He looked surprised. “What are you doing?”

Instead of answering with words, she pulled his head down to kiss him.

He resisted until the tendons in his neck stood out in hard relief. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“I know. Don’t care.” She had to tug twice more before he swore under his breath and lowered his head, stunning her with the impact of emotion carried in something as simple as lip-to-lip contact. He kissed her like a drowning man gasping for air only she could provide. Yet, he hadn’t touched her.

She grabbed one of his wrists and tried to force his arm around behind her back. In struggling with him, her towel untucked and slid to the floor.

She saw his eyes slip down her body as the towel vacated it. When his gaze rose back to hers there was no longer tension, only raw need.

“Well, hell.”

After that it got pretty chaotic.

They used their mouths on each other, tasting, licking, sucking, or kissing every part of the other they could reach as they tried to satisfy the hunger that had been building between them for days.

They were on the floor, her naked body draped over his when he suddenly stopped moving against her. His hands came up and framed her waist, holding her off him. “You may regret this.”

She leaned down over him, so close she could see her reflection in his eyes, and clutched both his ears and yanked his head until her lips touched his. “The only thing I’ll regret is not doing this.”

She put everything into her kiss as she rotated her hips over the tip of his erection. It was an intimate act, in a way more personal than just fucking.

She lifted her head. “Oh, wait. Tell me you came prepared.”

His mouth firmed under hers. Then he reached out an arm to snag his pants and find his wallet. Ten seconds later she helped him sheath a spectacularly eager erection.

When she had once again straddled him she said, “Now, are you ready to cooperate, Agent Lawson, or am I going to have to tie you down?”

He didn’t answer. But the tip of the swollen cock sliding into her assured her that wouldn’t be necessary.

Later, as they lay on the floor catching their breaths, Georgie could feel him mentally shifting through all the reasons why what they had done was a bad idea.

Finally, he shook his head, dark eyes watching her from beneath lowered brows. “It’s not the right time for this. I can’t protect you if I’m emotionally involved.”

She rolled toward him, happier than she’d been in weeks. “Liar. You’ve been protecting me all week.” She slipped a hand over his thigh to rest her hand over his half-wilted erection. “Or is this your version of uninvolved?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he kissed her, long and hard. And then he rose to his feet in one impressive motion. “There are lives that may depend on us. I can’t risk that, even for us.”

He only paused when he reached the door to the bathroom. His tawny skin was damp with sweat from their coupling, his eyes even darker with turbulent emotions she completely shared. “I’m sorry, Boots.”

She lay on the floor for a while listening to the water running in the shower until she was certain he must be taking a cold one, whether or not it had started out that way. When the water finally stopped she jumped up, grabbed her things, and hurried into her bedroom where she slammed and locked her door.

***

The knock on her door first thing the next morning surprised Georgie. She wasn’t expecting anyone.

The youngish, fit man in a dark suit and tie standing on the other side looked like what he was: an FBI agent.

“Agent Mark Sanders, ma’am.” He flipped out his credentials. “I’ll be taking Agent Lawson’s place with you beginning today.”

“Why? What’s wrong with him?” Brad was gone when she’d awakened but she had not thought anything of it. After all, he’d left Zander with her.

“I couldn’t say, ma’am. I was told to report here. May I come in?”

Georgie noticed now that he carried a duffle bag that looked suspiciously like the one already stored in the corner of her living room. “What about Zander?”

The agent’s gaze moved to the Lab who had come up to greet him. He smiled. “I’m told Agent Lawson will be by to pick up his K-9 shortly.”

So, Brad wasn’t unable to come, he was just putting a substitute in place before he abandoned his position.

Georgie blinked hard as she allowed the stranger to enter. She wasn’t hurt. She wasn’t angry. She just felt defeated.

She didn’t bother to come out of her room when, an hour later, she heard Brad’s voice. He obviously meant what he’d said the night before. He didn’t want to be with her.

Good-byes never accomplished anything. Not one breakup had ever made her feel better about it, no matter how well she and the guy had behaved. So how should she feel about a breakup with someone she had not even had a real relationship with?

Cheated. She felt cheated.

***

“Hello, Georgiana. Sorry to wake you but you did promise.”

Georgie sat up in bed, cell phone in hand, and squinted at her clock. Six a.m. “Oh, hi, Frank. What did I promise?”

“To come and take a look at my apartment.”

“Now?” She rubbed the sleep from one eye.

“How about in an hour? I want you to record the views from the balcony in the morning. It’s glorious. Do you have something to write on? I’ll give you the address.”

Thirty minutes later, she was slipping out her door. The new agent was in the shower. She hadn’t told him she was leaving but he didn’t tell her not to. So, technically, she was not breaking protocol. And she hadn’t switched on her wire. She needed a little private time with a friend.

She was in a cab before she let out a breath. Brad wouldn’t have been that easy to get around. But Brad, and Zander, were out of her life for good.

It wasn’t until the taxi pulled up in front of the Watergate Complex that Georgie realized that this was the address Frank had given her. How funny. And weird. Apartments in this building ran into the millions. Did Frank have that kind of money? And, if so, why spend it on a place he wouldn’t live …

Georgie’s thoughts scurried away from the end of that thought. Whatever made Frank happy these days was okay with her. Dreams were a hard-won commodity in his life. He had been limping yesterday, the pain evident in his face when he thought no one was looking.

Frank was standing out front waiting for her.

Georgie took several shots of him as she approached. He struck a Vanna White pose, one hand on his hip as he twisted, arched his back, his arm lifted up and out as if presenting to her the building behind him.

Georgie laughed. “You can’t be serious?”

“Au contraire. I’ve never been more serious.” He waved a passkey at her.

“Have you been holding out on me? Are you a trust-fund baby or something?”

“Or something.” He motioned for her to go ahead of him. “Top floor, Georgiana. Unobstructed direct river view. Twenty-four-hour concierge. Doorman. Shopping. Restaurants. I’m telling you, the last days of my life will be legendary.”

She led the way into the lobby with a doubtful expression. The doorman smiled and the concierge did the same. No one asked to see ID or her credentials, something almost unheard of in today’s D.C. Once out of the elevator they stepped into a gently curving hallway.

“Right over here.” He pressed numbers into a keypad and then pushed open the doors on a fantasy condo right out of
Architectural Digest.
He led the tour himself, proudly showing off teakwood closets and marble tubs. Expensive, certainly, but the decor struck Georgie as wrong. The space was bright and spectacular, open and flowing. Yet the furnishings were traditional, overstuffed, and fussy with braid and gilt wood. Walking through the spacious rooms, the styles changed from French to modern to Baroque. It was nothing like the casual, cozy house Frank and his wife had shared on a cul-de-sac in Georgetown. To Georgie’s mind the worst offenders were the ornate crystal chandeliers and gilt trimming of the living room and dining room ceilings and fireplace, as well as the gold knobs and faucets in the white kitchen. It was as if a kid had put together all her favorite things without the aid of adult judgment.

When the tour was done Frank turned to her with a sly smile. “Your opinion?”

“It’s nice. But a bit ostentatious, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s butt ugly. Fake Federalist meets Louis XIV lite.” Frank winked, at least his lid flickered and he grimaced. “It’s a loan from friends who are in Europe for the summer. Some diplomatic appointment. I’m occupying it for the short term. I’m to water the flowers and walk the dog while they’re away.”

Georgie’s smile was less about the joke than the strange goofy tone of Frank’s voice. “There’s a dog?”

“A figure of speech. It would have been the perfect apartment to fulfill Mia’s lottery dream, don’t you think? And wait until you see the view.”

Georgie couldn’t agree more. Whatever the shortcomings of the decorator’s—or the owners’—taste, the view was to die for.

Frank unlocked the balcony door and then began patting his pockets. “Damn. Forgot my phone. Can I borrow yours? I have to check in with the office.”

“Sure.” Georgie handed hers over after unlocking it.

“Go ahead outside. I’ll be with you in a sec.” He turned back to the living room, punching numbers.

Georgie stepped through sliding doors out onto a wide, gently curving balcony that ran the full length of the condo. Beyond it lay an unobstructed view of the Potomac River and the Georgetown waterfront.

Moving to the cement-and-iron railing, she looked out on a rare calm D.C. bathed in a golden focus on a Saturday morning in late June. At nearly a dozen stories up, the air lifting off the river was cool and crisp and clean, something seldom experienced in D.C. in the summer at ground level.

When she heard the doors sliding open behind her, Georgie turned her head. “This is just perfect. I could live right here, on the balcony, for a week and take pictures from sunup to sunset.”

Frank pulled the door shut, limping slightly as he came toward her. “This is what I brought you here for. You’re going to take photographs from this balcony that will win you a Pulitzer.”

“Sure, as long as you’re planning to hijack next year’s selection committee.”

“That won’t be necessary. You’ll get your photos this morning.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Instead of answering, Frank drew back his arm and pitched her cell phone out over the edge of the balcony.

“Frank? What are you doing?”

“Sorry, Georgie.” He limped over to her. “I don’t have time to explain everything. You’ll just have to trust me. I’ve made all the arrangements. Now you’re in place, too.”

Georgie backed up a step. “You’re scaring me. What are you talking about?”

He smiled, one corner of his mouth drooping. “After a while people like us become familiar fixtures, even in paranoid D.C. We’re there all the time but no one notices the press corps. That allows me a great deal of freedom. We can come and go as we like without anyone getting suspicious.”

“I don’t understa—” Her stomach did a flip that left her feeling sick. “Oh, Frank. No. What have you done?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

Feeling her knees melt, she grabbed the railing for support. “The FBI came to see me after my break-in. They told me I took pictures of an event where an unexploded bomb was later found. Are you involved?”