Frances Housden - Honeymoon With A Stranger

This last earned her a surprised lift of his brown eyebrows and a patronizing nod. “I have heard of him, and no, I don’t go in for girlie magazines.”

He ran his gaze over her from the tip of her boots to the top of her head. “I’m not a voyeur. I prefer my women in the flesh, not paper. But don’t worry, you wear your cover well, Roxie, I’ll give you that.”

She experienced hot and cold flashes of confusion while trying to make up her mind whether he’d given her a compliment or a warning of intent. “I don’t suppose I’m up to your standard, though.”

“Not many are,” he agreed.

She jerked back as he brushed past her and reached over to turn on the shower. Not the response she’d expected.

Roxie had discovered to her cost that she wasn’t any good at reading certain men. And men of Mac’s stature she usually tried to avoid for all the looking up gave her a crick in the neck.

His close proximity swamped her in feelings of claustrophobia, and as the water pipes clanked and rattled, she edged toward the door, desperate to get out of there, yet nervous that he’d find something to object to.

“Okay, the noise of the shower will stop us being overheard better than the basin faucet, so you can cut out the act. I know it wasn’t any coincidence that you turned up when you did.”

“What? No, I was sent, but I didn’t know you lived there,” she explained truthfully.

She would have added more but he leapt in. “Who sent you?”

“What difference does that make?” she countered. “If you must know, Charles Fortier sent me to see a Madam Billaud, but I got the wrong apartment.”

The bright gold flash of annoyance in his eyes was tempered by a heave of his massive shoulders in a demonstration of supreme control. “All right, have it your way. I guess I should have known you wouldn’t give out.”

The expression tickled her funny bone.

Her offbeat humor had a reputation for springing to life at the most inappropriate moments. “Not on the first date, anyway,” she told him pertly.

“Yeah, you’re right. Why should you? We both have our secrets and it’s best we keep them to ourselves for now.”

Secrets? What were his?

She was annoyed by the notion that Mac hadn’t believed a word she’d said, and that being the case, who had he decided she was?

Mac wasn’t bothered by her silence. Hell, he hadn’t exactly used thumbscrews. Besides, he had his own way of discovering whom she worked for.

That entire story she’d given him about working for Fortier?

She’d put it over reasonably well. Maybe she wasn’t the virgin agent he’d taken her for, but she was still pretty green.

Whichever outfit she worked for, its sources weren’t as good as IBIS’s or they would have known IBIS was on the job and left the field to its agents, instead of interfering.

He couldn’t help the smug feeling in his chest, knowing that when he’d said yes to Jason Hart he’d taken a big step up.

From the Office of Naval Intelligence to a much higher life-form growing on the same family tree.

Mac saw no reason to let Roxie in on the miniature cell phone Thierry had slipped him in secret. It had only taken a quick look to know his fellow agent hadn’t failed him.

The cell phone was a secure digital one, and he had every intention of putting it to good use once Roxie fell asleep.

Not only that, the device could also screen the room for bugs. Listening devices had to be his next priority. But he had to find them in a way that left Roxie unaware of how he’d managed it.

Of course he only wanted to know where the listening devices were hidden. To remove them would be like playing hide-and-seek, then standing up and giving the game away.

Where would be the fun in that?

Though he’d have enjoyed seeing Zukah’s expression.

Face it, he really enjoyed his work, and would have reveled in the situation but for his latest problem.

The problem of his libido doing an about-face where Roxie was concerned. Her stripping off that coat was as mind-blowing as when a butterfly shucked its cocoon. And much more destructive.

No one could have been more surprised than him to feel the quickening in his groin.

He’d been thinking that at least he wouldn’t have to take cold showers. Now, if Roxie could be talked into sharing the bed, chances were he’d need one. Or, maybe a few.

He would have liked to blame his reactions to the way the steam softened her round the edges, making her look more appealing than at first sight.

Take her eyes. Right now they looked misty and vulnerable.

Too much more of that and he’d end up believing the cover story she was using.

“Shall I leave you to it, then?”

“Uh-uh,” he told her, “not before we have a chance to talk.”

“But we just talked.” She reached for the handle, her head turning away from him.

“There are rules to be set.”

Her eyes snapped open as she lifted her head to glare, eyes cool as steel. “Rules!” she protested. “What rules?”

Mac stepped closer and held a finger to her lips. “Shush…”

He bent closer, his lips almost touching her ear, his hand on her shoulder. Without the covering of her coat, Roxie’s bones felt fragile, easily broken.

A surge of regret foreshadowed the emotion of that event coming to pass. For all he’d been rough on her earlier, and carried scars both bodily and mental from Lucia, he couldn’t bring himself to physically hurt Roxie.

No, not him. But Zukah’s men—now, there was a different breed of animal all together.

He tried to shrug off the thought. Such sentiments on his part were dangerous, the price so high he couldn’t afford to pay it.

Better to remember this was simply an act they’d begun to save her life. “Don’t say anything you wouldn’t say in front of Zukah and his crew, especially out there,” he warned her, voice pitched to add a hard edge to the words.

“The bathroom looks clear, but chances are the other room has been bugged.”

She gave him another of her wide-eyed stares and mouthed one word. “Bugged.”

What had she expected? Hadn’t they taught her the basics? She closed her eyes as if trying to get her head around the notion.

“Look, they believe we’re lovers and that’s the way we have to play it, okay?”

Beneath his palm, he felt a shiver accompany the nod she gave in reply. “Chérie, you’re freezing. Why don’t you take a shower while I look to see if they’ve provided anything useful apart from the bed? There doesn’t appear to be much in the way of heating so we’ll just have to cuddle up.”

There was only one bed.

Of course, Roxie understood that Mac’s suggestion was for the Algerian’s benefit, but she had to clamp her teeth down on a nervous stutter. “W-we’ll, what?”

Mac raised a warm smile and she knew why; he expected her to share that bed with him.

She wanted to ask, “What kind of illegal deal are you brokering that warrants us being threatened with guns and knives as well as taken prisoner?”

But that was obviously one of the secrets he’d mentioned so she saved her breath. She wasn’t completely stupid.

Mac was probably from the Russian mafia buying weapons from…

Her thoughts faltered. She could feel Mac’s large, strong hand on her shoulder, strong enough to kill her with one blow.

Darn, she needed to find a scenario that wasn’t so scary, but she couldn’t get it out of her mind and panic surfaced at the speed of light.

Her chest expanded as she looked from his hand to him, and a scream built in her lungs.

Mac cut it off with a kiss, and for a minute she couldn’t breathe never mind think. The kiss deepened, and before she knew what had happened she began to enjoy it. This wasn’t good.