Merline Lovelace - The Executive's Valentine Seduction / Valente Must Marry - The Executive's Valentine Seduction

Well, hell! They were there. Harry. Sondra. Abdul-Hamid. The rest of the crew who’d hung around the bar after dinner. All crowded close to the windows, all watching the scene with avid interest. They’d had ringside seats to the entire episode.

“Oh, no,” Caroline moaned, more to herself than to him. “How am I supposed to face them in the morning?”

He didn’t even try to tell her it was no big deal. Rory could take the flak from his frolic in the surf. It would hit Caroline hard, he guessed, and not just because of the professional image she worked so hard to project. The past had left her all too vulnerable to whispers and sidelong glances. He was damned if she would be subject to them again because of him.

“I’ll do damage control with my people. You don’t have to worry about facing them tomorrow—or any other day.”

His flat assurance quelled some of Caro’s rioting emotions. He sounded so confident, so matter-of-fact. As if wading into the Mediterranean and getting chest-to-chest with a dripping female was no big deal.

Which it probably wasn’t. To him. She, on the other hand, could still taste him on her lips.

They parted just inside the foyer. Caroline punched the button for the elevator and refused to look over her shoulder as Rory peeled off toward the bar. Only after she’d gained the safety of her room did she let loose with the torrent churning up inside her.

“Stupid! Stupid! STU-PID! ”

She wanted to burst into tears. Pound the sofa pillows. Scream or kick or haul off and slug someone. Anything to erase the agonizing embarrassment of the past ten minutes.

She was forced to settle for stalking into the bathroom and yanking her wet sweater over her head. Slinging it at the wall gave her a small measure of satisfaction. The sopping cotton hit the tiles with a loud whap. Her slacks and underwear followed in short order.

She stared at the soggy pile, everything inside her cringing with self-disgust. Everything, that is, except a tiny, rebellious corner of her mind that sparked with a life of its own. A nasty little corner that wanted to relive every second of that kiss, to taste the sizzle, feel the heat.

She hadn’t lied to Burke. There had been other men. Two, to be exact. The first she’d dated for almost six months before she’d let down the barriers enough to go to bed with him. Unfortunately, the sex hadn’t been worth the wait.

Her friend Devon had introduced her to the second. A biologist Dev had met at some Let’s Go Green function. Ernie was serious about his work but what made him so endearing was his hopeless addiction to old Dean Martin records and any stray cat that happened across his path.

Caro had wanted to love him. She really had. He was so right for her. So gentle and considerate in bed.

Too gentle and considerate. Try as she might, she couldn’t help comparing Ernie’s cautious lovemaking to the wild explosion of delight she’d experienced that night beside the river with Rory.

The same wild delight she’d tasted again tonight.

The thrill of it crouched in that forbidden corner of her mind. The excitement was like a fever, swift and all-consuming, straining to break free of Caro’s rigid restraints and fire her blood.

Disgusted all over again, she padded on sandy, seaweedy feet to the walk-in shower and twisted the taps to full blast. Face turned to the pounding spray, she let a frustrated groan rip from deep in her throat.

When in hell would she learn!

The next morning, she walked into the room set up for the GSI breakfast with a cool smile and her chin high.

She’d had all night to prepare for the smirks and knowing smiles but soon realized that whatever Rory had said to his people must have sunk in. Other than a sideways glance from the male operative with the red hair and a more speculative one from Sondra, everyone was friendly and polite. Gradually, Caroline relaxed.

She snapped wire-tight again the moment Rory appeared. All she had to do was catch a glimpse of him as he strode in and her stomach went into a fast roll. She turned away before he saw her, swallowing a curse when her china coffee cup rattled on its saucer.

She had herself under control by the time he made his way to her side. Exercising iron will, she refused to let either his smile or the faint, tangy scent of his aftershave get to her.

“Morning.”

“Good morning.”

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

“Fine.”

The clipped response didn’t seem to faze him. Or keep his glance from drifting downward toward her lips for a few seconds.

“No aftereffects from your late-night swim?”

“Not a one.”

The mocking glint that came into his eyes told her he recognized that for the lie it was. Thankfully, Harry Martin came over before he could challenge her on it.

“I’ve got that situation brief on Venezuela ready to go, boss.”

“Let me grab a cup of coffee, and then we’ll get started.”

As she had the day before, Caroline tried to hang back so she could oversee the meal service. As he had the day before, Rory sabotaged her plans.

“After you, Caroline.”

The command was politely worded but definitely a command. She thought about saying no for all of three or four seconds. Then she shrugged and accompanied Rory to their designated table.

After the general session detailing the somewhat scary situation in Venezuela, the attendees broke into smaller groups for regional updates. Sondra took charge of the European sessions. Abdul-Hamid orchestrated a series of briefings dealing with the Middle East and Africa. The Asian expert turned out to be a ruddy-faced Englishman with what Caroline could only describe as a seriously warped sense of humor.

Intrigued by roars of laughter emanating from his session, she slipped into the back of the room in time to hear him describe attempts by pirates to hijack a luxury, oceangoing yacht owned by a GSI client.

“They came in under our radar during the night and got close enough to fire their rocket-propelled grenades. Lucky for us the buggers didn’t know how to activate the built-in lock-and-launch radar. Bloody grenades came close enough to tighten my knickers, though.”

One of the men in the room gave a loud hoot. “Since when do you wear knickers, Basil?”

“It was merely a figure of speech, old chap. Back to our nocturnal visitors…I sincerely wish I could have seen their faces when we whipped the cover off the M61 mounted in the stern, but it was too bloody dark.”

Caroline had no idea what an M61 was, but she gathered from the murmurs of approval that it was a powerful weapon. The speaker confirmed that a moment later with his cheerful claim to have blown the buggers right out of the water.

Amazed all over again by the danger Rory’s people apparently faced on a daily basis, she slipped out to check on preparations for lunch and finalize transportation to the policía nacional armory in Girona.

She had two buses lined up and waiting when the conferees broke after lunch. A truck loaded with sealed crates idled patiently behind the buses. Two of Rory’s men had accompanied the crates from the airport and stayed with them for the short trip to Girona.

Caroline had prepped as best she could for the excursion and knew that the ancient city of Girona had been inhabited in turn by Iberians, Romans, Visigoths, Moors and the armies of Napoleon. It had also served as a major center for Kabbalah studies until the Jews were driven out of Spain in 1492. In recent years, Girona had once again become a center of learning for the Jewish faith.

Following directions faxed by Captain Medina, Caroline directed their small convoy to the police armory on the outskirts of town. Antonio Medina strolled out to meet them on their arrival and greeted Caroline in English heavily flavored by his native Catalan roots.