Agent in Training (7 page)

She gave an unladylike snort, then found the key and placed it in the lock. After turning the key and the knob, she frowned. Shiloh turned the key again and this time opened the door. She turned back to him. “Well, good night.”

Nick looked over her shoulder into her darkened apartment. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come in and check things out?”

“Check it, for what? I don’t need you to protect me, Trent. I was CIA when you were still in school.” She flipped on the light, and Nick immediately saw her apartment had been ransacked.

Her hands flew to her mouth, and she started to shake uncontrollably.

Nick pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “It’s okay. I’ll call 9-1-1 and they’ll send a unit out.”

He unclipped his cell phone, and without releasing her, pressed the emergency number. He quickly relayed the information then hung up. “They’re on their way. I’m going to stay with you.”

Her eyes filled with tears and for some reason that caused a tightening in Nick’s chest. Why the director’s tears would stir such a reaction, he didn’t know, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to analyze his feelings now. She needed him to be strong, and he wasn’t leaving her side until she told him to. Maybe not even then.

“Who would do this?” Shiloh looked around at the destruction. Framed pictures of her father lay on the floor, shattered. Shards of glass covered the textured, beige carpet.

Nick shook his head. “I don’t know. Let’s take a quick look around… but don’t touch anything. We don’t want to disturb any evidence.”

Shiloh narrowed her eyes at him. “I know the drill, Agent Trent.”

She stepped over a pile of shredded sofa cushions and walked into her bedroom, inhaling sharply when she saw the mess. On her mirror, in red lipstick was the single word: DEAD. The top dresser drawers of her bureau were askew, her underthings tossed everywhere. A lacy pink bra dangled from the ceiling fan above her.

A black negligee lay across her bed, a large kitchen knife stuck through it, piercing the mattress.

Tears slid down her cheeks at the overwhelming scene. No mistaking it. This
was
a death threat. Someone planned to kill her.
But who
? And why? The photos had been a little scary, but this was completely terrifying. Someone had actually broken into her apartment and destroyed everything she owned.

“Are you okay?” Nick asked from behind her.

She turned around in shock. “Would you be?”

Sirens bellowed in the distance, alerting them that the police were on their way. Shiloh shook her head, and in a daze walked back into the living room. Everything she’d worked so hard for, lay in shambles.

In a matter of seconds she’d gone from tipsy and contemplating whether she should sleep with Nicholas or not, to completely sober and fearful of any guy within a ten-mile radius. A crazed man did this to her apartment––she knew that––and until she found out which one had done this, she planned to take it out on the lot of them.

When the last of the police and forensics team had left, Nick closed the door and locked it securely. Shiloh hadn’t said more than a few words since the cops had shown up and searched the apartment.

A fingerprint team had lifted a partial print off a bottle of perfume on her bedroom dresser, a print instantly checked against her own––not to match. The intruder, without thinking, had picked the bottle up without gloves. It was the only other print that wasn’t hers.

Nick walked over to where she stood looking out her living room window, a forlorn expression on her face. “Maybe you should try and get some sleep, Shiloh.”

“Just go home, Nicholas. I’ll be alright,” she whispered.

“I don’t want to leave you like this. Let me stay. I’ll sleep on…” He looked at the couch, then back to her. “The floor.”

She scowled at him. “I can take care of myself, Trent.”

“I never said you couldn’t. I’d just feel better if I stayed.”

“Fine. But don’t get any ideas.”

He frowned. “Ideas about what?”

She tilted her head, looking annoyed. “You know.”

“Are you telling me not to try anything with you?”

She nodded. “The man can be taught.”

Nick grinned. “Cute. Don’t worry. You’re not my type. I like California beach bunnies, remember?”

Her eyes darkened. “Right. How totally bitchin’. Good night”

Nick mentally counted to ten as she closed the bedroom door. The woman was driving him crazy. He should have just left. She was tough as nails and could take care of herself. But once again gallantry had kicked in and he’d insisted on staying. Now he was stuck, sleeping on the floor, with the Ice Princess in the next room wreaking havoc on his sanity.

Grabbing a sofa pillow and an afghan off the floor, he found an area free of glass and dropped to the carpet. He removed his shirt and boots, wondering what the old Iron Maiden slept in. Did she really wear a chastity belt? And, was it lined in barbed wire?

He remembered the pink lacy bra hanging from the fan and wondered if she had a pair of matching panties to go with it. A pink thong maybe. And what about that negligee he’d seen on the bed? The one taken away in an evidence bag.

Damn
. Why was he doing this to himself?

He punched at the pillow, and slammed his head down. Shiloh Templar in a pink bra and panty set? More like a black leather dominatrix outfit.

He gulped as that image overtook him. Her in tight leather, with a whip.

Desire washed through him.

Shit
. He did need professional help.

Nick squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, determined to get a handle on his overactive imagination. Shiloh was probably already asleep, and he knew she’d be appalled by his lustful thoughts.

Get a grip, Trent. She’s not a gorgeous cover model. She’s a thirty-five-year-old, power-hungry spinster with a bad attitude. Nothing sexy about that, right
? Unfortunately, what his brain thought was sexy was not in-tune with his cock, and that part would probably keep him awake all night.

CHAPTER NINE

Shiloh rolled over for the eighth time and berated herself for thinking about the man lying on her living room floor.

Why had Nicholas insisted on staying? She could take care of herself, should have ordered him home. She didn’t need a man for anything.

Images of him walking out of the shower, water beading off his perfectly toned body sent her senses on full passion alert. Her nipples tightened and she felt a strange warmth steal over her.

What the hell was wrong with her brain? What happened to the strong, always in control woman who now ran DNS?

Shiloh punched her pillow, angry that she couldn’t get a handle on her libido when she was around a certain man. Nicholas Trent did this to her. It was his fault.

Nothing had ever distracted her to the point that she couldn’t think of anything else. Damn him and his sexy, head-to-toe bronzed body.

Frustrated, she gave up trying to sleep. Her mind raced back to the shower and she considered his male attributes. The man had quite the package. That, she remembered with clarity. She also recalled his arrogant grin and his super white, utterly straight teeth. He had to have worn braces when he was in his teens…

The thought made her snort. That hadn’t been all that long ago.

So why the attraction? What was so appealing about a man ten years younger than her? Probably all those darn women’s magazines writing about how older women in their thirties and younger twenty-something men were sexual equals—both at their peak.

Shiloh wasn’t sure if she was at her peak or not, but what she did know was that her breasts were on alert, and they clearly needed to be caressed by a living, breathing man.

By Nicholas
.

A loud thump instantly put her on alert. She slid from bed and reached for the weapon in her bedside bureau.

At her bedroom door she stopped to listen, then eased the door open and saw a light on in her kitchen. "Trent," she called softly, spotting a lump under an afghan, lying on the floor next to the sofa. He obviously hadn’t heard the noise, though how that was possible, she hadn’t a clue. He was supposed to be there to protect her. Not to sleep through another attack.

Shiloh pressed herself against the wall and made her way to the kitchen. She couldn’t believe any lunatic would have the nerve to come back the same night, especially with her and Nicholas home. But then, the creep could be there to do what he’d threatened—to kill her.

Her heart squeezed painfully as she continued toward the kitchen, her Glock primed to fire.

“Freeze, Asshole,” she ordered, rushing to the kitchen entrance. Her face paled when she saw Nicholas leaning against a cabinet, naked from the waist up, drinking a glass of water.

His eyes widened.

Shiloh sighed and lowered her weapon. “What are you doing?”

He gave her a crooked grin. “What does it look like? I’m having a glass of water.”

Clearly, he’d been prowling around her apartment and she didn’t like it. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

He took another leisurely drink. “I don’t know. Your floor’s hard to sleep on?”

“Is that a question?” She was annoyed with him.

His gaze left her face, traveling downward, jogging her memory as to what she was wearing—a small, gray DNS T-shirt, revealing her belly. And a pair of matching skivvies.

Nicholas’ blue eyes softened.

Shiloh’s stomach did a backward somersault.

He extended the glass to her. “Do you want a drink?”

Shiloh licked her lips and ran the question over in her mind.
Oh yeah. She wanted a drink, all right. A drink of his lips. A taste of his tongue. A brush of his chest against hers. And most of all, a feel of his cock deep inside her as he moaned her name in ecstasy
.

Oh God. What was she thinking?

An intense heat washed over her face as she stared into his eyes.

He wanted her too. But if they acted on their desire, what would happen afterwards?

Would he be disappointed? It had been so long since she’d been with a man, and even then, they’d never come back for more. She wasn’t good in bed. She didn’t know what a man wanted her to be. Submissive? Domineering? Did they want a woman in control of every kiss—every caress? Or did they want to take the lead? She had no idea, and was too afraid to ask. But she couldn’t just stand here and gawk all day, allowing him to do the same. She had to say something…

But what
!

Nick couldn’t stop staring at Shiloh’s legs.
Damn
. They were long and lean—leggy enough to wrap around him, with some to spare. What an image that was. Her stomach was flat. She had a cute little innie bellybutton he could see himself exploring with his tongue. Her hips were narrow, almost colt like, but her breasts were large and firm, the nipples jutting out under the thin T-shirt she wore.

Nick swallowed, his control slipping––especially when her eyes seemed to devour him. Did she want him? It sure as hell looked like it. Even if she did, she was his boss, and sleeping with her would be against DNS policy—against his better judgment, too. Besides, they could hardly stand each other. Probably wouldn’t be any good. Probably wouldn’t satisfy either of them. Not a good start for any relationship.

A relationship
? Where did that come from? That was the last thing he wanted. The idea was preposterous. Then again, maybe they could just have sex—the down and dirty kind. But then what? They’d meet in the elevator at the agency days later and smile––remembering?

What if the sexual experience wasn’t all that great? What if he couldn’t please her? The way she acted, she was most likely frigid.

Sweat beaded his upper lip. He’d never run into a woman he couldn’t satisfy before, but he’d never met anyone like Shiloh Templar either. A woman obviously had issues concerning men.

Why not just kiss her and see where it goes
?

“Does your offer still stand?” Her question drew his attention back to her.

“What’s that?”

“The one you made at the hospital.” Her eyes reminded him of a rain-soaked forest. She chewed on her bottom lip.

“Could you refresh my memory? I was drugged. It’s a little hazy.”

“You offered your services. What do you think? Are you up for it?”

Nick’s reserve crumbled. She was asking him to make love to her, and frankly he’d be a fool to turn her down. “I’m getting there, just give me a second. To hell with company policy or common sense for that matter. He wanted her. Really wanted her.

He lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.”

Her eyes darkened to a deep emerald. “What do you want to see?”

“Whatever you want to show me. Better yet, come over here and we’ll decide together.”

Nick held his breath. He hoped she wouldn’t change her mind, because he was up for this now––literally. Just the thought of her in his arms had his cock as hard as steel.

Shiloh discarded the clip from her Glock and placed the weapon on the marble countertop. While she swung her seductive hips his way, Nick’s heart ran a twenty-mile marathon in two seconds.

Her fingers slid up his chest, causing his nipples to pucker and his breath to catch painfully in his throat.

He reveled in the feel of her fingertips, sensing it was only a taste of what was to come. A sudden urge to kiss her overtook him, and he drew her in and brushed his lips over hers… then pulled back.

Their eyes met and held. The steady tick of a clock occupied the silence, as did the tip-tap of water off stainless steel. Time stood still.

His gaze dipped lower to the rapid pulse-point at the base of her slender throat. That little pulse point excited Nick even more.

He leaned forward and kissed her again, his lips gliding over hers, her mouth now warm and demanding.

She could definitely kiss. He’d give her that.

Nick’s mind went blank. All he could think of was the taste and softness of her lips. Deepening his assault, his tongue found its way into her mouth while his palm smoothed over her, covering a breast, massaging it gently.