Undercover Lover
Good girl Jenny Ainsley never hoped for more than her nine-to-five existence. Then her famous brother hires a bodyguard to protect her—a sinfully sexy man who gets drawn into a plot to take down an international drug syndicate. At first an unwilling participant, Jenny soon realizes she has the opportunity to break away from her timid past and do something important. And getting her hot bodyguard into bed will be a delicious bonus. He resists her at every turn, however, and she discovers that no amount of training—or seduction—can crack the code to this man’s heart.
Ex-MI-5 agent Günter Faust is no stranger to watching the beautiful Jenny Ainsley. For years he’s seen to her safety, hiding in the shadows and pining for the woman he can never have. Bedding a client is not an option. But fate has put her by his side, working up close and personal. And with Jenny’s relentless determination to seduce him, it’s only a matter of time before she blows his cover—and his heart—wide open.
Publisher’s Note:
Although connected to
Sheet Music, Undercover Lover
may be read as a standalone novel.
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
Undercover Lover
ISBN 9781419938733
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Undercover Lover Copyright © 2012 Tibby Armstrong
Edited by Grace Bradley
Cover art by Syneca
Photography from Fotolia.com
Electronic book publication March 2012
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Tibby Armstrong
Dedication
Undercover Lover
is dedicated to my SAB, amazing author Denise Tompkins, for bringing Bengal to the table. This book packs a serious punch because of your brilliance. In return, I promise never to play
21 Guns
in your presence again.
Acknowledgments
A special thank you to my friend and beta reader, Alex Müir, for untangling my knots and cheering me on when I needed it most. Many thanks to friend and author Kristin Dearborn for showing me where the shadows lay so I could navigate my way through them. Last, but not least, a gigantic thank you to Grace Bradley for being a friend and for always paying attention. You all made this endeavor worthwhile.
“She thinks she’s better than the rest of us.”
Jenny Ainsley hovered the mouse pointer over an accounting formula on her spreadsheet and stared at the gray fabric of the cubicle wall separating her from her coworkers.
“Shush. She’ll hear you,” Jill said.
“No she won’t.” Norma laughed, and Jenny could almost see her eyebrows waggle as she singsonged, “She’s at lunch with her
brother
.”
Jenny frowned. Were they talking about her and David?
“Did you read last week’s
Voice and Vibe
?
He’s still seeing that woman.” Lizzie’s voice carried clear across the office.
Jill gasped, thrilled to gather as much dirt as she spread. “The one who slept with him to get that story?”
“Yeah. Lucky bitch,” Lizzie called out. “I can’t believe Jenny’s related to a smokin’ hottie like David Tallis.”
All three women laughed, and Jenny let go of the mouse, inadvertently dragging and dropping the formula to the wrong cell. Red exclamation points peppered her table.
“Oh. My. Gawd. If he were
my
brother, you could be sure of two things,” Lizzie said.
“What?” Jill and Norma chorused.
“First, I’d fuck him anyway.”
“Lizzie!” Both women burst into renewed fits of tittering laughter, and Jenny pressed a sweaty palm against her forehead.
“What’s the second?” Jill asked.
“I’d get a makeover and stop dressing like my grandmother.”
Tears born of anger threatened to spill down Jenny’s face.
“Hello,” a crisp English voice said behind her.
Jenny gasped and swiveled in her office chair, scattering the contents of her pencil cup across her desk. “David!”
Her brother pursed his lips and glared at the cubicle wall as if he could incinerate the occupants on the other side. “Sorry I’m late.”
Grabbing a tissue from the box on her desk, Jenny proceeded to dab at her cheeks. “How long have you been standing there?”
David’s expression narrowed further. “Long enough to know you work with a bunch of prats.”
Jenny’s hand flew to her mouth and she choked back a giggle when the eavesdropping women gasped.
“What’s a prat?” Lizzy whispered with a Brooklyn-born twang.
David snorted—a rare, uncouth sound she couldn’t believe he’d made.
“David, stop,” Jenny pleaded, sliding her arms into the puffy black coat he held out for her. “I have to work here.”
“‘Have to’ is misleading.” His mellifluous tone contrasted sharply with the nasal vowels of her half-American accent.
Jenny followed him to the hall and punched the elevator button as Bonnie from payroll walked up to them, a pen and pad clutched in her hands.
“Can I have your autograph, Mr. Tallis?”
God, couldn’t they leave him alone for five seconds?
“Sure.” David took the pen from the woman’s shaking hand. “What’s your name?”
“Oh. It’s for my daughter. She loves your music.”
“Thank you,” David said.
The elevator doors opened and closed again while the woman stared at him.
“Crystal,” Jenny supplied and jabbed the elevator button again. “Her daughter’s name is Crystal.”
“D-do you want to have lunch sometime?” Bonnie asked.
“Sure,” Jenny answered, belatedly realizing Bonnie had directed the question to David.
Bonnie continued to stare and David’s frown deepened as he scrawled a note across the pad.
“Uh, Bonnie?” Jenny said, humiliated more for her coworker than for herself. “He has a girlfriend.”
David gave Bonnie a wan smile and handed her the steno pad.
“Oh, that’s right. Sorry,” she said, finally acknowledging Jenny. “You’re really lucky—someone like you having a brother like him.”
“Thanks.” Heat crept up the back of her neck, but she kept her voice calm. Cool. How else could she respond to such a backhanded compliment?
The elevator door opened and David just about dragged her with him. When Bonnie attempted to follow, he held up his palm and smiled his most charming smile. The dazzling expression, when he let it reach the striking blue of his eyes—so unlike her own dull brown that she sometimes wondered whether they shared any genetic bond at all—mesmerized the recipient. The door slid shut, giving them a precious few moments of privacy. David leaned against the back wall and closed his eyes. Now that Jenny really looked at him, she could tell he was exhausted.
“You have to stop coming here,” she said.
He opened his eyes and quirked a genuine smile at her. “It’s all right. I don’t see you enough.”
Jenny shook her head. “You stir things up.”
His golden laughter seemed to sparkle like glitter in the air around her. “You could use it. What a God-awful place to work.”
Jenny swallowed past a lump in her throat and looked away. She refused to cry in front of him. If she did he’d find a way to make her quit her own life and trot at his heels for the rest of her days.
“I like my job,” she lied.
“I’m sorry.” David pushed away from the wall to reach out to her.
Waving her hand airily, she dismissed his apology.
“Hey.” He took her chin in his fingers and brushed a kiss against her cheek. “You’re fine. I’m happy you enjoy what you do.”
David smiled down at her and she blinked against the urge to blurt out her innermost secret—to tell him how much she hated what she did for a living. How she wished she were more amazing. More like him.
The elevator doors opened and the mask of his public persona slipped neatly into place. Predictably, several paparazzi lay in wait on the sidewalk outside the lobby. Jenny instinctively squinted her eyes against the barrage of light. Tomorrow’s gossip papers would carry a screaming headline with a photo of her in a dowdy down coat, hair corkscrewed all over the place.
She and David slid into the waiting Town Car and the driver closed the door, shutting out the din of shouted questions. As if nothing unusual had happened, David withdrew his cell from his pocket to check his email. For him, this was normal. The thought struck her with horror and fascination all at once.
“How do you live with it?” Jenny asked as he swiped at the screen.
He paused, finger hovering over the display, to scrutinize her with an intensity that had her fighting not to squirm. “Mostly? I use the wall I built when we were kids. With Dad. I just go somewhere else.”
Shock made her flinch. Alluding to their childhood was an unspoken taboo between them.
“Sorry.” He returned his attention to the screen.
“No. It’s ok.” She reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. “I’m sorry. You bore the brunt of it all. I know.”
He breathed out, heavy, through his nostrils. “Not by half.”
It seemed odd to speak about something so intimate with him. So mutually known, yet never explored. For a moment she felt as if she knew him. The real him.
When she didn’t reply, he slipped the phone into his pocket and looked out the window. Silence stretched between them for several blocks. Sometimes, after all these years without him, it was hard to believe her brother really was back in her life. That he was alive at all was amazing. That he was one of the most famous rock stars who had ever lived was incredible.
“Do you think you could do me a favor?” He interrupted her reminiscence.
She tossed her hair out of her eyes to peer up at him. “Sure.”
“I need someone to look after the flat while I’m away. Anna,” he said, referring to his New York-based personal assistant, “is getting married and I don’t trust anyone else.”
“What about Kyra?” His girlfriend would be a more logical choice.
“She’s coming with me.”
“She agreed?” Genuine happiness flooded her. “That’s wonderful!”
“You could come with us.” Fine lines creased his brow at some private thought. “It’d be nice to be together. Catch up more.”