The Monte Carlo Affair: Across A Crowded Room (IATO Series Book 2) (5 page)

“Drop it.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s not like she’s really your sister, Jason. She never was. You barely even lived with her.”

He thought about Harrison’s words carefully, and then he took a long, cool chug. “It’s not that. Let me handle Emily.”

He’d felt unworthy of her. Until he slew his demons, he couldn’t move on. It shamed him to think he’d betrayed her father’s trust. Making love with Emily the weekend before the bombing seemed like a betrayal he would never be able to fix. Worse yet? What would Avery think of him leaving her after the bombing? He would have understood his reasons. He was doing it for her own good—to keep her safe. But not telling her? He wouldn’t have approved.

And this? Jason wasn’t sure how Avery would have felt about him dragging Emily into all this. Emily needed closure, too. The whole family did. He chugged the rest of his beer, wiping his hand across his mouth, and tossed the bottle into the trash.

He picked up the binoculars, then put them back down, took a handful of nuts from the dish on the table, and walked to the railing, tossing the nuts in his mouth. He glared out to sea and watched the yacht from a distance as it bobbed on the sparkling crystal-capped waves. He didn’t have to look at his watch to know how much longer it would be before they met. He hungered for her like a starving man.

It would be a long eighty-six minutes.

* * * *

When the skiff finally dropped Emily and Mosel off at the dock, Jason tormented himself by watching them from his vantage point. Mosel jumped out to tie up and help Emily as she stepped into his waiting arms.

Jason growled under his breath. That dark inner demon he’d fought all his life was surfacing.

Then Mosel took her face in his hands and tilted her chin up for another opportunity to brush a friendly kiss across her mouth, skimming his thumb along her jaw and down her neck.

God, what if they completed the mission successfully so he had a free shot at a real life with Emily, and he lost it to Mosel? Wouldn’t that just be peachy?

Jason dropped the binoculars and walked out.

Chapter Four

Emily vaguely acknowledged a mental,
Mmm, not a bad kisser. Not bad at all!
She found it very disturbing that her overall response to Mosel wasn’t the same sexual indifference she’d experienced with every other male since Jason. With him the emotional and the physical merged, weaving, blending, peaking, and exploding like nothing ever had before or since.

Why now? Why of all people, Mosel? Her reaction to him was dangerous under the circumstances. She had to keep her head straight. Although she might refuse to allow herself to react to him emotionally, finding out she wasn’t immune to him, physically anyway, took her completely by surprise.

And there was the crux. She feared him on a certain level, and her body responded to him on another. The response was a first after all these years. The damn blond god sexually aroused her with his scent and with the feel of his muscles tensing beneath her fingers. The sensation of lips dragging against hers and the taste of him made her crazy. And then, there was always her body’s response to the press of his long, hard length between her thighs. She had little control over her reactions, and her good sense abandoned her. Her knees went weak with each stroke of his tongue against hers, with every brush of his fingers over her nipples. She should have stopped him, but she didn’t want to. It felt too good to feel.

He knew just how to handle her, too, going slow, then moving in before she could change her mind, stimulating all the erotic desires she’d suppressed for so long. She wondered if all she’d needed to get past her hang-up over Jason was a very hot guy with all the right moves. Jason warned her he was dangerous, but she’d never believed he could have affected her this way.

It astounded her how a man who may have been involved with her father’s murder, who should have completely repulsed her on so many different levels, was irresistible and physically desirable to her.

She shuddered. Her own response disgusted her.

Who knew this subversive part of her nature existed? Why was her sexuality manifesting itself now, of all times? Maybe it was the climate or the locale. Recently, her skin felt too tight for her body. Her breasts ached and her nipples stayed contracted with need most of the time. Maybe it was having two sexy men working on her hormones daily. At any rate, her libido apparently chose now to peak. As a result, she knew she was radiating some sort of pheromones, because even the old man in her building started flirting with her.

A need for something, something that frightened her, filled her to her core.

Careful to keep this moment friendly and light, she tried to keep the kiss to a peck, but Mosel reached for her and pulled her back into him. His kiss made her melt, his touch drove her mad. Emily wanted to let go, to let him drag her off and fill the emptiness between her thighs. Then she thought of the team watching, Jason reacting to her clutch with Mosel.

Heat spread like a plague through her insides, building and rising to the surface. The idea of the men watching, of Jason seeing another man touch her, kiss her—well, wasn’t she a naughty girl getting off on being a little exhibitionist.

With a sheer force of will, she rolled out of Mosel’s arms, shifted quickly out of his reach, and flashed him a smile. “I’ll meet you here, back at the dock, in four hours for dinner and that evening cruise you promised.” Her breathing was labored, nerves and arousal. Her body demanded more contact, but she needed to put space between them to think straight.

Her rendezvous with Jason was set to coincide with Mosel’s business meeting this afternoon. While the team followed Mosel, she and Jason could finalize the exchange and the Charity Ball details.

Mosel’s eyes narrowed on her, and he shrugged to loosen his shoulders. His suspicious glare turned into a leer. “The cruise won’t be the only thing I promised. Don’t be late. I’ve been patient long enough.”

The panic rose again. Emily glanced away to keep Mosel from reading the fear in her eyes. She turned, hurrying off in the direction of the street, hoping to flag down a passing cab. Luckily, one was dropping off a passenger right in front of her at the end of the dock. She hopped into it before anyone else could get in, directing the driver to her apartment and wondering about the taxi’s previous passenger. Why was the man going down to the dock now? Curiosity compelled her to look back. She watched out the back window of the taxi as Mosel and the man greeted each other with the friendly French greeting, a kiss to both cheeks.

Ah, the meeting.

There was something familiar about him. But what? Where could she have seen him before? The slightly built, swarthy-looking man may have been Middle Eastern, but that would be no surprise. Mosel was reportedly dealing arms all over the world. Still, she thought she recognized this one from somewhere.

* * * *

Monte Carlo charmed her. She loved the historical nature of the city as well as the modern aspects interwoven in the buildings, new and old, blending flamboyant and classical architecture. Her apartment building was archaic with marble floors and intricately carved Italian marble banisters. The atmosphere made her feel exotic, sexual, and romantic.

She examined the Baroque building in the heart of this tropical Mediterranean city and smiled with admiration. Monsieur Demaret, her retired neighbor, was at his regular position as building sentry. “
Bon jour, monsieur,
how are you today?”

“Excellent, and you, mademoiselle?”

“Wonderful, thank you.” She nodded and patted the dog’s head. “Hi, Duke, how are you doing?” Emily rubbed the Labrador’s head as she removed her hand from the quick handshake with Monsieur Demaret. The dog nuzzled her in return.

She made her getaway to the elevator with a quick good-bye before he could trap her into a long conversation.

The apartment joined the long list of lies. It was only a prop, a temporary stop to successfully completing a task. The agency considered her the most competent and best-equipped agent to handle this assignment, but she doubted that. In any event, she kept few personal belongings here to minimize her losses, knowing she would be abandoning them when she made her escape. Another six months here, and she could have turned the apartment into a replica of the one she lived in back home. Essentially, it looked like she’d made herself at home, but to anyone who knew anything of her or her personality, certain essential items were missing. Personal touches.

Standing on the balcony in this fantastic locale, looking at her reflection in the ornately carved bedroom mirror, made her question the new sensual aspect of her personality.

Working with Jason again, especially in this capacity, felt weird. They seldom bumped into each other socially back home. The parties she attended because of her grandfather’s legacy were also sometimes hosted by charities seeking Jason’s wealth. They often drew invitations to the same fundraisers.

His dates were always elegant foreign women of impeccable taste and bearing. They made her feel a little frumpy, with her unruly curly hair and the glasses she hid behind.

She and Jason had never renewed the intimacy they once shared, not as friends or lovers, but they had managed to maintain an air of civility, a civility she sometimes resented.

She lost her self-confidence and her self-esteem the same night she lost her virginity. She held a deep bitterness towards him for the way he left her after her father’s death. Her attitude, her only defense mechanism, left the relationship between them strained. Despite knowing it was her own fault, she couldn’t stop the childish thought.
He started it.

Life and work were easier to focus on than facing the world without Jason and her father. Her heart beat with anticipation. She looked at her watch.
Ten minutes more until she would meet Jason.

She changed clothes, checked her email, and repacked the bag she would take with her on the yacht. Tonight, her needs would be different.

* * * *

Jason watched Emily sneak down the outside backstairs and manage her way through the small alley between the old buildings. He devoured her with his gaze as she crept through the alley toward him. There were plenty of bushes for cover, but she stopped to sniff some damn local flora. Hell, she wasn’t being careful. She couldn’t afford to be lulled into a relaxed state under the circumstances.

When she made her way to the spot where she’d agreed to meet him, he decided to teach her a lesson. Without letting her know he was there, he took her from behind, hauled her up against him, turned, and pressed her against a small scraggly tree. He wanted to thrash her for her carelessness, but instead he bent low to kiss her, mumbling something about a couple looking out their window.

He’d made that part up, the part about the couple watching.

Harrison’s earlier suggestion was haunting him as she melted against him.
Tell her how you feel.
He couldn’t, not yet. But after endless hours torturing himself watching her with Mosel, he had to mark her with his own scent—he had to taste her. He’d been going crazy with jealousy and concern all damn day. Mosel’s hands had been skimming over her, touching and caressing her the way only he should. So Jason did the only thing he could think of. He cupped her face in his hands and marked her with his kiss. He stamped it on her, branded his need into her—she was his.

He wished it was that easy. Alley or not, there were people in the area. He took his hand off her ass and slid it to her waist, but he didn’t loosen his hold on her. His cock still pressed against her belly.

Fortunately, he had the presence of mind to take a breath before he lost all control. It was difficult since she wasn’t objecting. Where Emily was concerned, he never felt sure he could manage his feelings or his desires and she was too damn responsive to him. With her, he skirted the edge of control, unable to quite grab hold when she was around.

* * * *

“Jason!” She was shocked, first by his appearance and then by the physical assault of her mouth. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been commandeered like that, but she wanted to try it again.

God, the man’s mouth is lethal
. It had been a long time since he’d really kissed her.
What was he saying to her? Someone watching?
Why? Who cares?

Electrical charges plunged through her body. She was lost. The warmth spread between her legs where his thick erection pressed into her. That easily, she was ready for him. She returned the kiss but tried to shake off the spell he wove with his tongue before he lifted his mouth from hers. Her ears were still ringing, making her feel off balance. Thank goodness he didn’t release his hold on her because her knees were shaky and her legs felt like overcooked pasta.

This is what’s missing with every other man.
Not only the instant explosive desire, but the loss of time and place. She didn’t care about anything the minute their bodies touched, but her body wouldn’t stop trembling.

“Are you chilled? Oh, shit, that reminds me. What were you thinking wearing that getup with Mosel? Where’d that flimsy cover thing get to?”

“What?” The interrogation snapped her back to reality. She straightened her back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It was perfectly beautiful out on the water today—”

“The lack of clothes, the getup, no cover-up thingy. You know. The one I bought for you? Get it?”

She placed her hands on her hips. “I’m supposed to be seducing him, and you want me covered up in what? A burka, I suppose?”

There was a strange expression on his face, as if a burka might not be such a bad idea. “You do know you’re not expected to... Hell, you don’t have to fuck him! You’re not supposed to
really
seduce him. You do know that don’t you?

“Excuse me, of course I know that. But what if I have to?”

“You won’t.”

“I might.”

“You won’t.” The growl was threatening. “Mosel’s notorious. He’s dangerous on so many levels I can’t explain. You have to follow my directions explicitly, and if you get in too deep, abort the mission. I’ll get you out. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried.” She frowned at him, frustrated. “Mosel isn’t the problem. You are. You keep interfering. How am I going to infatuate him if you don’t let me?”

The look on his face said he was contemplating something new.

“What?” she asked, but he didn’t explain. He just looked at her, and despite her anger, maybe more so because of it, she kept shivering as he ran his hands up and down her arms. She could smell the leather of his jacket, and his aftershave smelled like comfort and security to her.

She decided to take the initiative to distance herself and gather some self-control. “What’s the plan for the Charity Ball?”

Suddenly, he looked like he’d come upon a revelation.

“What’s that look, Jason?”

“Don’t worry. When you meet me, just follow my lead. No matter what, remember we are madly infatuated with one another, spontaneous attraction, you know. Can you handle that?”

“Well, acting that out might be a stretch. After all, I probably know you too well to be infatuated!”

The old sarcasm wasn’t foreign to either of them.