The Makeover Mission (26 page)

"Anything else might be too much for your ego." She knew
she sounded prissy, as prissy as a naked, thoroughly loved woman could sound
with a smile on her lips.

"Wow's a good word. Better than 'that was nice' or 'not
bad.'"

"I don't believe you've ever heard either one of those
phrases in your entire life."

She felt his lips press against her temple.

"Let's just say you inspired me."

For all she knew he might have used the same phrase with a hundred
women before, but somehow she didn't think he had. He'd always been straight
with her, a little reticent with information, but when he finally did tell her
anything, he'd never sugarcoated it. A nice trait in a man, she decided. A very
nice trait.

"You've gone quiet on me." His voice whispered through
the room, his hands continuing their slow glide across her skin.

"I thought men didn't want to talk after sex."

"This man wants to know what's going on in that head of
yours."

She heard nerves beneath his words. Or maybe it was only wishful
thinking, either way, she thought it'd be best to keep things light, no matter
if she was feeling anything but.

"I'm wondering how I'm going to get that shirt off you."

He paused, as if looking for what she wasn't saying, then
shrugged. "You'll have to work to get it off."

Oh, she liked that idea, and its possibilities. Raising herself on
one elbow she grinned down at him, catching the answering dare in his gaze.

"You're playing difficult here, Major?"

"Yup."

Her fingers slid beneath the first button. The first remaining
button, which was halfway down that wonderful chest.

"You know I'll show no mercy." She snapped the button
off with a flying ping.

"I'm counting on it."

Another button went sailing.

"I won't have any cry of foul play later."

She pressed her lips to the skin now exposed. A slow, long, wet
kiss that had him sucking in his breath.

Her fingers slipped lower. Not low enough to stroke that body part
of his already twitching awake, though it was tempting.

"I will allow you to cry mercy if you need to." She
ducked her head to hide her grin at his mortified expression and followed with
another kiss to his chest. Then a lick of her tongue. She popped another button
and he went still.

Her tongue had moved up to circle the dark bead of his nipple,
paying him back for the exquisite sensations he'd inflicted on hers earlier.

"Do they teach torture in librarian school these days?" His
chest was rising and falling more quickly, his eyes were slits of heated
silver.

"Advanced Torture 101. I aced the course."

She felt the rumble of his laughter beneath her lips. She pressed
his shirt aside to taste and touch more.

But leave it up to McConneghy to have his own agenda. Before she
could continue her quest of devouring him, inch by leisurely inch he rolled her
over, slipped on protection, and slid into her in one quick, hard, deep thrust.

When she caught her breath, and the sweet sigh of pleasure
accompanying it, she opened her eyes to glance up.

"I'd say that was a cry of surrender."

"I'll show you a cry of surrender."

His words were a promise, which he proceeded to fulfill. Very
ably.

Lucius watched the sun creep over the far horizon outside the
French doors, listened to the deep even breathing of the woman snuggled against
his chest and wondered if he'd ever felt such contentment. It was an emotion
alien to his world, to the choices he'd made. But another choice had been made,
and the consequences would have to be dealt with. In spite of his words of
warning, and Jane's cheeky response, he knew she wasn't the type of woman who
slid easily into a relationship and just as casually walked away from it.

In spite of her enthusiasm and daring foreplay, he sensed the
shyness, the innocence still as much a part of her as her kindness to
strangers. She might look like a siren in that dress she'd worn earlier, but he
had no doubt she was as unsure and vulnerable as he'd always guessed. A man
could not make love to a woman the way they had through the night without
knowing such things.

The question now was what he was going to do about it. The smart
thing was to tell her it'd been nice, break her heart clean and fast, then hope
like hell she could get through the next days with him playing good guy/bad
guy, a role he had down pat. Or maybe he should string things along, put some
physical distance between them, but not bring reality into play until he was
sure she was safe on the plane and heading back to South Dakota.

Unfortunately, either scenario ended up with the same result: Jane
hurt and him responsible. But then, he knew it'd come down to that point,
eventually. It had to.

But there was a third option. One he'd been considering since he'd
tasted her sweetness, felt the power of her response to his touch. The third
solution held the most risk for the both of them, but also its own rewards.
What if he chose to accept what had happened, was happening between them and
savor it? Revel in it, if the truth was known. What if he chose to take
whatever time was allotted to them and allow it just to be instead of cutting
it off?

He found himself smiling, inhaling the scent of her hair with the
motion, knowing there really was no choice in the matter. She was his and
nothing—not duty, not obligation, not responsibility—was going to make him let
her go when he could hold her like this.

There'd be a price to pay. There always was. But for now he had
Jane. It'd be enough. It had to.

Chapter 11

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J
ane awoke the next morning in her
own bed, alone, vaguely remembering Lucius's arms around her, carrying her
securely from his room to hers, playing the role of protector once again. This
time of her reputation.

The thought made her smile. That thought and others, ones based on
the sweet lassitude in her limbs, the quiet ache of muscles thoroughly used.
How many times had they turned to each other through the night? How many times
and how many ways? She felt herself blushing and hoped she could bring it under
control before Ekaterina, rustling around in the bathroom, spied her.

"Ah, mademoiselle, you are awake at last. The excitement of last
night, it must have worn you out."

"It did." She felt the heat in her cheeks increasing,
knowing they were talking about two different kinds of excitement. "How
late is it?"

"It is nearly noon."

"Yikes." She bolted upright, remembering at the last
minute to grab the blanket to her. Lucius may have made sure she was found in
the right bed but he'd neglected to make sure she was dressed in a decent pair
of pajamas. "Am I late for any appointments? Major McConneghy is going to
kill me."

"No, mademoiselle. The major was the one who told me to let
you rest, that you'd be exhausted."

As he should well know, she thought, feeling the heat seeping
through her body this time.

"He said he canceled your meetings this morning."

Jane didn't know if she wanted to thank him for his thoughtfulness
or smack him for his assumption that she was a lightweight. Just because she
didn't have a lot of experience making love through the night … all right, she
had no experience … didn't mean she couldn't have bumbled through the day
somehow.

"I have a nice warm bath ready for you." Ekaterina's
voice broke through her musings. And the thought of a soothing, leisurely soak
did sound divine. She would deal with McConneghy later. She just hoped she wasn't
going to have to battle through one of his noble-thing,
this-shouldn't-have-happened responses. But leave it up to the man to make what
could be easy into something complicated.

The old Jane might have caved into such a pack of nonsense. The
new Jane wasn't going to have anything to do with it and the sooner McConneghy
understood that the better. She knew they didn't have a future together. How
could they, when she wasn't sure there'd be a future at all, not if some
terrorists, or disgruntled revolutionaries with an ax to grind got their way?
So she'd have to take what she could, now, while she could.

"Do I have anything in red in that closet, Ekaterina?"
She reached for her robe, trying not to wince from thigh muscles protesting
movement. It was bad enough she was going to have to explain the state of her
clothes from last night, no need to compound the speculation.

"In red, mademoiselle? Yes, there is a suit and several
dresses."

"Not the suit, but maybe one of the others." A woman
should always dress for battle. "Something sexy, but subtle."

"Yes, mademoiselle." The maid left, humming, as Jane
made her way toward the scented bath. McConneghy was never going to know what
hit him. It was not the time to slide back into the old Jane's way. No, it was
time to go on the offensive.

She caught her image in the bathroom mirror and paused. It wasn't
the well-kissed lips, or whisker burns along her cheek that surprised her. It
was the gleam of battle in her eyes. Lucius McConneghy didn't stand a chance.

Lucius ignored the pressure band tightening around his skull,
telling himself that blowing up at Tarkioff wasn't going to solve anything.
Except maybe to lower his blood pressure. The man was insisting that last
night's fiasco was a major threat to discredit his regime and to personally
humiliate him.

Maybe, maybe not, but spending the whole morning barricaded within
the royal library with the king and his brother, instead of leaving him free to
follow up what few scant leads and even fewer hunches there were, was not
helping the situation. Fortunately his team had been at work since Lucius had
met with them right after he'd left Jane sleeping in her own bed.

The image that thought brought created its own pressure, but this
time it wasn't settling around his head. Like glimpses of a lost dream, he'd
found his thoughts wandering time and again since he'd been cloistered with
Tarkioff and Eustace.

It was Eustace's voice that was soothing the king now. "All
measures have been taken to find the culprits behind this incident."

"It's not enough." The king's meaty fist slammed upon
the desk. "I want results, not empty promises."

"But, Your Highness—"

"Enough, Eustace. It was your guards who failed in their
duties last night. I want them replaced. I will not tolerate
incompetence.'"

"But, sir—"

"Replaced and punished. Do you hear?"

"Yes, sir." The Head of Security kept his face stoic,
his demeanor under control, but Lucius had noticed the quick flash of temper in
his dark eyes. Not that he blamed the man, but it didn't bode well for the days
leading up to the king's wedding.

A quiet knock on the far door interrupted any further
conversation. As Lucius was closest to it, he rose to answer it. If Jane
Richards had meant the scrap of flame and fire she wore with a teasing smile to
make him drool and remember, she succeeded. He was only thankful his back was
to the other men in the room. There were some emotions one could not hide, and
raw possessiveness was one of them.

"Am I interrupting anything?" she asked in that
honey-over-heat voice that made him want to throw her over his shoulder and
continue where they'd left off in the wee hours of the night.

Her look told him she was thinking along the same lines, but
before he could suggest she meet him elsewhere, the king's voice boomed across
the office.

"Come in. Come in. We have need of beauty since we have no
competence."

Lucius watched her flinch at the implied criticism of the other
two men in the room, then step around him. He had to give her credit for being
brave. Foolish, but brave.

"Thank you, Your Highness." She bowed her head to the
security minister. "Monsieur Tarkioff. I really do not wish to interrupt
you, as I'm sure you have much to discuss."

"No, mademoiselle. It is our pleasure." Eustace waved
her to a nearby chair while Lucius cleared his throat.

"We were reviewing that shameful business last night."
The king's voice reflected the stern expression of his face. "I hope it
did not frighten you unduly, my dear?"

"That is thoughtful of you to have worried about me."
She offered him one of those smiles Lucius knew to be genuine and powerful.
"But I can assure you I was in capable hands with Major McConneghy."

Lucius thought he was going to choke. From the way she avoided his
gaze and kept her whole attention on the king he knew she was playing some kind
of game. He just hoped she knew the stakes.

"Well." Tarkioff cast him a questioning glance. "I
am glad Major McConneghy knows his position."

"Oh, yes sir. I agree."

This time it was Eustace who cleared his throat, and hid what
Lucius guessed was a grin as the king's expression darkened.