Secret Agent Seduction (18 page)

Lia blushed, even as a shaky laugh escaped. “I actually think you might be right.”

“Don't sound so surprised,” he said huskily, gazing into her eyes. “I always knew it would be this way between us. Explosive.”

“Earth-shattering,” she agreed, and they shared a lazy, intimate smile.

Realizing that his arms might be getting tired from holding her up against the wall, she reluctantly began disentangling herself. But Armand stopped her.

“Stay,” he whispered against her mouth.

He didn't have to ask twice. She tightened her slippery thighs around his hips, hugging him closer, keeping their bodies joined.

They kissed, a long, deep, provocative kiss.

Drawing back, Lia rested her damp forehead against his with a breathless little sigh. She couldn't remember the last time, if ever, she'd felt so deliciously sated after sex. “It's been hours since we ate, er, breakfast. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah,” Armand murmured, his penis hardening inside her once again, “but not for food.”

Instantly aroused, Lia tightened her arms around his neck and clung to him as he strode purposefully toward his bedroom. They fell across the rumpled king-size bed, coming together in the center and wrapping around each other with the mindless craving of new lovers.

Four hours later, lying on his side with his head propped in his hand, Armand gazed down at Lia's sleeping face in the candlelit darkness of his bedroom. She lay snuggled against him with the covers pulled up to her chin, as trusting and peaceful as a child. Light and shadow played across her features, serenely beautiful in slumber. Her soft, lush lips were parted slightly, and every so often she made these adorable little sighing noises that brought a smile to his face. After hours of intense lovemaking, her thick, black hair was loose and disheveled, spread across the pillow the way he'd always envisioned in his fantasies.

But this was no fantasy, Armand reminded himself with a renewed sense of wonder. After eight long, torturous years of dreaming and fantasizing about her, Lia Charles was finally in his bed. He wasn't going to tempt fate by questioning his good fortune. All he knew was that he'd awakened from a nap earlier to find her watching him with an expression of such tender yearning it took his breath away. Even now, hours later, he was afraid to hope his eyes hadn't been deceiving him. He was afraid to believe he'd seen love—
love
—shining in her eyes as she stared at him.

It was too much to hope for. Her sudden reappearance in his life, when he thought he'd never see her again, had been miraculous enough. To have her love would make him the happiest, most grateful man on earth.

After carrying her into the bedroom hours earlier, he'd made love to her over and over again, unleashing years of pent-up need and desire, until she literally begged for mercy. Blowing hair out of her eyes, her body still trembling from an orgasm, she'd laughingly threatened to lock herself in her bedroom unless Armand promised to let her rest for
at least
an hour. He'd agreed, albeit reluctantly. He couldn't get enough of her, and it had nothing to do with his yearlong sexual drought. Lia would have made him insatiable even if he'd been bedding a different woman every night for the past ten years. Making love to her was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Just the sheer pleasure of hearing her scream his name as she climaxed surpassed his fantasies.

But it wasn't just about the explosive chemistry between them, the sheer intensity of their lovemaking. It was about the powerful connection they shared, both in and out of bed. Sometimes when he and Lia looked at each other, he had the uncanny sensation that they could see into each other's souls.

Armand chuckled quietly to himself. If his soldiers could see him now, they would hardly recognize the lovesick fool he had become. They knew him as a fearless fighter, a hardened renegade, a leader of men. Hardly the type to lay awake for hours romanticizing about soul mates. If they could see the silly grin on his face as he watched Lia sleeping in his arms, they would swear she had cast some sort of spell over him. And, in a way, they would be right. He had been in love with her ever since he saw her standing outside the town clinic that fateful afternoon. Only a sorceress could steal a man's heart without ever having to say a word.

Even now, when he should have been as exhausted as she was, he couldn't take his eyes off her. The sight of her curvaceous form outlined beneath the covers tempted him to strip away the blanket, bury his face between her thighs and feast on her luscious sweetness until she shuddered and came violently in his mouth. But a promise was a promise, so he kept his hands, and his tongue, to himself. He'd even let her sleep an extra thirty minutes. Why not? He was feeling generous.

Besides, if he could somehow convince her to return to Muwaiti with him and marry him, he'd have the rest of their lives to ravish her. Because there was no doubt in his mind that he wanted Lia to become his wife. Together they could help rebuild the land they both loved so much. He would never forget what she'd told him four days ago.
I felt like something was compelling me to stay, almost like I'd be leaving a part of myself behind if I left the island.

Those words had sent chills up and down his spine, confirming his growing belief that he and Lia were destined for each other. She wouldn't have felt such a powerful connection to the island,
his
home, if they weren't meant to be together.

But Armand knew it would take more than prophetic words—even her own—to persuade Lia to return to Muwaiti with him. Her whole life was here, in America. Her parents, her friends, her job. Even if she were willing to leave her parents behind—which would be difficult, given how close they were—Armand knew she'd never agree to walk away from the Secret Service. She loved her job, and she'd made it abundantly clear to him that any man who forced her to choose between a relationship and her career would come out on the losing end.

Armand didn't like losing, especially when it came to losing the woman he wanted to spend the rest of eternity with.

He was so desperate to keep Lia in his life that he'd even fantasized about getting her pregnant. Surely she wouldn't walk away from him if she was carrying his child, he reasoned. And the idea of her having his baby, bringing
their
son or daughter into the world, filled him with unspeakable joy.

But it was a short-lived fantasy. When he apologized to her for not having any condoms, since he'd spent the past year living in the jungle, she'd laughed and assured him that she was on the pill, so they were at least protected from an unplanned pregnancy.

So much for
that
idea.

No, Armand thought as he gazed upon the sleeping woman in his arms, he wouldn't have enjoyed trapping her into marriage, anyway. He wanted her,
badly,
but not at the expense of her happiness. Somehow he had to convince her that she couldn't live without him any more than he could live without her.

The way she'd looked at him earlier gave him hope. If Lia loved him, truly loved him, then she would see that they could have a beautiful future together in Muwaiti.

What about America?
a voice pricked his conscience.
Why does she have to be the only one making all the sacrifices? Do I love her enough to sacrifice returning to my beloved homeland? If our love is real, does it really matter where we live, as long as we're together?

As if Lia had channeled those thoughts into his mind, she suddenly stirred awake, stretching languorously beneath the covers. Her soft, purring moan sent a jolt of hunger speeding to his groin.

Those long, sooty lashes lifted and she peered up at him. “How long have I been asleep?”

Armand smiled. “About an hour and a half.”

Her lips curved in a drowsy smile. “Thanks for giving me a little more time.”

He chuckled softly. “I figured you would need it. I plan to keep you up very late tonight.”

She groaned, but he could tell she was pleased. She enjoyed their lovemaking as much as he did. That was very promising.

As he stared at her she parted her lips, drawing his thumb into the silken heat of her mouth. Need ripped through him.

She watched through smoky, heavy-lidded eyes as he pulled the covers from her body. He slipped his hands between her knees and parted them. His fingers slid downward, massaging the smooth, sensitive skin of her inner thighs until her breathing quickened.

With a slow, sensual smile he moved down and pressed the tip of his tongue to her warm, moist opening. She let out a broken moan, her hips flying off the bed. His groin ached, hot need stabbing through him as the scent of her arousal filled his nostrils. She closed her eyes and threw back her head as he flicked his tongue against her throbbing sex, going a little deeper each time, swirling, teasing, torturing. When his teeth scraped the slick nub of her clitoris, her stomach muscles clenched and her thighs began to quiver uncontrollably. Cupping her bottom, he lifted her hips higher, sliding into her with his tongue, stroking deeper with a wild and increasing hunger. She writhed against him, her breathless gasps and moans filling the room.

Knowing that she was about to come, he pulled away abruptly and covered her trembling body with his own. She locked her long legs around his hips as he drove into her with a sharp, powerful thrust. She cried out, opening herself wider, inviting him even deeper. He began moving inside her, hard, fast strokes that made her pant and arch against him, matching his rhythm. He whispered erotic promises in French and she responded in kind, fueling his savage hunger. Their coupling was fierce, elemental, marked with the blind desperation of two lovers who knew the future was uncertain.

Armand rolled Lia on top of him so that she straddled him, knees planted wide on either side of his body. She sat back, sinking deeper onto his erection. She braced her hands on his shoulders, her hair falling in a wild curtain across her face. He groaned as she rocked her hips frantically, her breasts bouncing as he bucked under her, forcing himself deeper into her wet heat, so deep that she soon exploded with a loud, mewling cry, her inner muscles contracting violently around him.

She was still sobbing as he shifted positions, turning her over so that he could take her from behind. He held her close, his fingertips digging into her hips as he thrust high and deep inside her. Moaning with pleasure, she reached back and grabbed his butt so tightly he thought she'd leave permanent handprints. He drove into her repeatedly before finding his own release with a powerful shudder that shook his whole body and tore a hoarse shout from his throat. He didn't pull out of her until he'd emptied every last drop of his seed into her pulsing womb.

As the tremors gradually tapered off, he gathered her into his arms and drew the covers over their bodies. Closing his eyes, he tenderly brushed his lips across her temple and stroked her damp hair, as her breathing slowed to a steady deepness. This time he, too, fell asleep, lulled by the precious feel of her breath against his chest, comforted by the warmth of her body curled against his. Right where she belonged.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008
0900 hours
Thurmont, Maryland
Day 6

T
he next morning, Lia didn't have much time to dwell on feelings of shame or regret for sleeping with Armand.

Shortly after they returned from having breakfast at the main lodge—she'd learned her lesson about trying to cook—she received a phone call from Nancy Janikowski's secretary, who informed Lia that an electrician was en route to the cabin to investigate the faulty wiring.

Lia asked curiously, “Where's Janikowski?”

“She's on a special this week,” the secretary answered vaguely, using agency jargon for a special assignment.

Lia frowned. “She didn't tell me she'd be out of pocket for a few days.”

“Well, she is. She'll be in touch with you when she gets back, Agent Charles.”

As Lia thanked the woman and hung up the phone, she thought,
Something's not right.

She couldn't put a finger on the reason for her sudden unease. The unpredictable nature of the job affected everyone in protective services, even those in management. It wasn't unusual for Janikowski, or any other supervisor, to have to drop everything in order to accompany an advance team to a hot location, which was any location where heightened security was needed—especially on the eve of the September 11 anniversary. In all likelihood, Janikowski was traveling with the president's protection detail, lending additional support during the chaotic election season. She probably hadn't had an opportunity to contact Lia before she had left to let her know she'd be out of the office for a few days.

That was the most logical explanation, Lia decided. Yet she couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly amiss….

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't realize Armand had spoken to her until he reached out and gently touched her shoulder, startling her.

“Sorry,” she murmured, flashing him an apologetic smile. “I got sidetracked. What did you say?”

His gaze roamed across her face. “I asked you if something was wrong. You've been frowning ever since you got off the phone. Is everything all right?”

Seeing the unasked question in his eyes, Lia hastened to reassure him. “Your family is fine, don't worry. That was my supervisor's secretary, letting me know that an electrician is coming out today to check the wiring.”

Armand nodded, sitting forward on the sofa. “There's really no point though, is there? Aren't we leaving here on Friday to fly to New York for the UN hearing?”

“Yes, but it's better to be safe than sorry.” She paused. “Which is why I want you to stay out of sight when the electrician gets here.”

He frowned. “Stay out of sight?”

“Yes. Stay in your bedroom, and keep your door locked.”

His frown deepened as he stared at her. “Are you anticipating trouble?” he asked quietly.

Lia let out a short, grim laugh. “I
always
anticipate trouble. It's my job to anticipate trouble.”

Armand didn't smile. “And where will you be while I'm hiding in my room?”

“You're not hiding! You're staying out of sight until the electrician leaves. It's just a precaution.”

“And where will
you
be?” Armand pressed.

“Out here with him, of course. To make sure he does whatever he's supposed to do before I sign off on the service ticket. Once he's gone, you can come back out, I promise.” When Armand said nothing, she let out an exasperated laugh. “You act as if I'm sending you to your room as punishment!”

A small muscle pulsed at the base of his jaw. “I'd rather remain out here with you,” he said in a low, steely voice.

“And I'd rather you didn't,” Lia retorted. “So since
I'm
the one calling the shots around here—”

Armand rose abruptly from the sofa and paced over to the window, where he stood staring out at the clear, bright morning.

Lia watched him for several long moments, realizing that although she loved him deeply, there were many things she still didn't understand about him.

“Why can't you just let me do my job?” she asked, frustration edging her voice. “Why do I have to meet with opposition every time I ask you to do something?”

He glanced over his shoulder and met her accusing stare. His mouth curved in a crooked half smile. “You didn't really think that was going to change after yesterday, did you?”

Lia stared at him, then couldn't help but chuckle. “I don't know. Maybe I did. I should have known better. You are as stubborn as—”

“A mule. I know. I've heard.” He smiled again, his eyes softening on her face. “If you really want me to stay out of sight while the electrician is here, I will. You obviously have your reasons.”

“I do. I always do.” She gave him a gentle, teasing smile. “But thank you for cooperating. It makes my job a whole lot easier when you do.”

“Don't thank me just yet,” he said, turning away from the window. “My cooperation is conditional.”

Lia eyed him warily. “What are the conditions?”

He came toward her slowly, his hands tucked into the pockets of a pair of loose khaki trousers he wore better than a male runway model.

Her pulse quickened as he stopped in front of her. He reached out, tenderly brushing his knuckle across her cheek before taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“I will agree to your request,” he said huskily, “if you agree to mine.”

Lia swallowed, ensnared by the intoxicating heat of his gaze. “That depends on what your request is.”

He smiled, slow and sensual. “After the electrician leaves, I want you to slip into something more comfortable. We're going to pack a basket and have a picnic at the lake. I already know the spot—it's shaded by trees, so we can have all the privacy we want. After our picnic, we're going to come back here and soak in the hot tub for a while. By the time I carry you out, you're going to be so relaxed and ready for me to make love to you that your insides will be trembling. I'm going to build a cozy fire, lay you down on a thick blanket, then take my time caressing you, pleasuring you, tasting and exploring every beautiful inch of your body. I'm going to make love to you, Lia, until you don't know whether you're coming or going, until you can't even remember your own name. We'll stop long enough to enjoy a romantic candlelight dinner, and then we will return to the bedroom—or the kitchen, the living room, the deck or anywhere else you desire—to have each other for dessert. All…night…long.” He brushed his thumb across her parted lips, gazing at her beneath his lashes. “How does that sound?”

Lia was speechless, lungs locked, unable to inhale or exhale. Her nipples had hardened, her clitoris was throbbing and her loins felt deliciously full.

“Lia?” His voice was a deep, velvety caress that snaked between her legs. “Do we have a deal?”

All she could manage was a trancelike nod, and he chuckled softly. “Good. I'm looking forward to it.”

Not half as much as
she
was.

When the electrician arrived an hour later, Armand kept his word and retreated to his bedroom. Before letting the private contractor inside the cabin, Lia made him unzip his blue jumpsuit so she could pat him down for weapons. She checked his photo ID, called his employer to verify his credentials, then dialed another number to run his driver's license and the tags on his company-issue van. While she waited for the all clear, she studied the uniformed man, mentally cataloging every detail of his appearance. She'd already learned from his license that he was a thirty-four-year-old, Caucasian male, five-eleven and one hundred eighty pounds. Beneath his baggy jumpsuit he was trim and athletic, no stranger to a regular fitness regime. His blue eyes were flat and lacked warmth, though he smiled easily enough. He had no facial hair, no tattoos, the only identifying mark being a small raised scar just below his left ear. The scar intrigued her, so she asked him about it.

He reached up, touching his skin as if he'd forgotten the scar was there. He laughed grimly. “A souvenir from an old girlfriend. I made the mistake of letting her shave me—while she was mad at me. 'Course, I didn't know
that
until afterward.”

Lia, who'd been trained to read eyes, to decipher the subtle nuances and vocal inflections that betrayed human emotion, couldn't doubt the veracity of his story. If he was lying, he was very good.

She grinned sympathetically. “Ouch. Live and learn, I guess.”

He snorted. “You can say
that
again.”

She listened into her cell phone another moment, then nodded and disconnected the call. “All clear, Mr. Westfield. Thanks for your patience.”

“No problem. I understand. Call me Zach.”

She gave him her most charming smile. “And you can call me Lia.”

The flicker of interest she saw in his eyes gave her the opening she needed. As she stepped aside to let him enter the cabin, she asked, “Would you care for something to drink?”

“No, thanks.” He swept a cursory glance around the cabin. “If you could just show me where the circuit-breaker box is located, I can get right to work.”

Lia had no intention of turning her back on him, so she just smiled and said, “Keep going. You're heading in the right direction.”

As he continued toward the rear of the cabin, he casually remarked, “I've never taken a service call out here before. This is a nice piece of property. The feds really know how to live it up.”

Lia gave a low, indulgent laugh. “But of course. The only problem is that we're so far removed from civilization that things can get pretty dull. I'm always looking for ways to liven things up a little. Know what I mean?”

He glanced over his shoulder at her, and she could tell by his expression that he was trying to figure out whether she was too good to be true.

Lia smiled flirtatiously. “Turn right at the corner. The circuit-breaker box is located next to the laundry room.”

As he opened the box and began his inspection, Lia made her move. Leaning close to him, she murmured, “So this is your first time out here, huh?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He winked at her. “But I will definitely have to make sure it's not my last.”

Lia chuckled throatily. “You do that,” she purred, boldly and deliberately sliding her hand beneath his jumpsuit collar to touch the back of his neck. He tensed a little, but did not move away.

They didn't tell me the agent was so hot…Damn…Never been with a black woman before, but I'd definitely make an exception for her…Beautiful…Maybe when I take care of him I can get a piece of this action…No one said I couldn't do her before I kill her…I need to run out to the van and pretend to get my tools….

Keeping her sultry smile in place, Lia slowly withdrew her hand from his neck, chilled by the thoughts she had intercepted. Just as she'd suspected. This man wasn't an electrician. He was one of Alexandre Biassou's hired assassins.

Their location had been compromised.

Zach, or whatever his real name was, smiled easily at her. “I need to run out to the van and get my tools.”

“All right,” Lia said, her voice betraying nothing.

Before he had taken two steps, she pulled her 9mm and pointed the gun between his shoulder blades. “Don't move,” she said, low and controlled.

He froze in his tracks.

“Put your hands in the air where I can see them.
Slowly.
”

As he moved to comply, her finger tightened reflexively on the trigger. She took a cautious step toward him. “Who are y—”

He spun quickly, knocking her gun hand to the side and up. The Glock spat a round into the ceiling, and wood and plaster dust rained down on them as they struggled for control of the weapon. From somewhere inside the cabin, Lia heard footsteps pounding on the floor, rushing in their direction. A heavy male fist slammed into her right cheek. As pain erupted inside her head she released the gun, and it clattered across the floor. Her assailant seized her viciously by the hair, one arm locking across her shoulders like a crowbar. Lia spun around in his arms, ramming her elbow into his solar plexus. He reared backward, clutching his throat. Before he could recover from the blow, she swung her right leg in a roundhouse kick that connected with his chest and sent him crashing into the wall. As he slumped to the floor, she went for her backup piece strapped to her ankle. Still gasping for air, he scrambled on his hands and knees, diving for the fallen Glock at the same time she drew a bead on his forehead.

“Freeze!” she shouted hoarsely.

In defiance, he raised the gun and took deadly aim. Lia fired, hitting him in the shoulder before he could squeeze the trigger. Half a second later, another shot blasted a hole through his chest. He let out a gurgled scream, then crumpled to the floor.

Stunned, Lia wheeled around in time to see Armand lowering his weapon, lethal fury burning in his eyes as he stared down at the fallen mercenary, then at her.