Code Name Desire (7 page)

“I’m glad you like it. I have a few matters
to see to before I end my day, so I’ll leave you to your rest.” He
took a single step inside to kiss her cheek. “Good night.”

“Good night,” she said vaguely as the door
closed.

She dropped her bright red shoes on the
garishly white carpet and moved into the room. A telephone sat on a
bedside table. She went over and picked up the handset. A dial tone
greeted her. Excellent. She flopped her coat on the bed and pulled
free her assignment sheets from the hidden pocket in the lining
then dialed the number given.

“State your op and code name,” said a woman’s
voice after the first ring.

“Op name – MINK. Code name – Desire. I’m on
an unsecured line.” Jaeda opened the nightstand's drawer, glad to
find a pencil and notepad.

“Do you have access to the internet?”

“Yes.” She’d find a way. She took down a
website, making sure to isolate a single page on the tabletop so as
not to indent onto subsequent pages. She would remember it, but it
was good to have on paper, just in case. The call ended without a
farewell. She hadn’t expected one.

She ripped the page from the notepad and put
it with her other important documents in the lining of her coat
then went to see what her bathroom offered. Before she made it
across the room, however, a knock stopped her.

“Yes,” she called, somehow guessing by the
genteel rap that the person on the other side of the door wasn’t
Teague.

“Are you decent?” called a woman’s voice.

Smiling, she strode over and opened the door
wide. “That depends on what you mean by decent.”

“I meant by way of how much apparel you wore.
I see you’re quite decent.” A mature woman with black hair
sprinkled liberally with silver gazed up at her. “My, but aren’t
you tall?”

“Not really. Are you Mrs. Wilson?” She
wondered what the short, thin woman wanted.

“Oh, where are my manners? You’ve got us all
by surprise, dear heart. Yes, Ms. Bennett, I’m the housekeeper,
Mrs. Wilson. I brought you this.” She held out a folded wad of blue
terrycloth.

“A towel?” Jaeda asked. “There aren’t any in
the bathroom?”

“Oh-ho, no, Ms. Bennett. Of course there are
towels aplenty in the washroom. This is a robe. I figured since the
storm stranded you here, you wouldn’t have anything but the clothes
on your back. Caster said you don’t even have a purse.”

Jaeda studied the little woman and concluded
she was harmless. “Would you like to come in for a minute?”

“I don’t want to intrude on your
privacy.”

“You’re not, believe me. Come on in.” Jaeda
held the door wider.

Mrs. Wilson inched her way inside, glancing
around as if she’d never seen the room before, which was absurd
since she'd prepared it.

“You know, now that I’ve met you and see you
in this room, I don’t think it suits you.”

“Tell me about it,” agreed Jaeda. “I mean,
it’s pretty, and I’m sure everything is clean and comfortable. It’s
just not really my style.”

The woman nodded with a benign smile. “I can
surely see that. I could prepare a different room. I think I know
just the one.”

Jaeda headed for the bathroom, as planned.
“That won’t be necessary. This room is fine. It’s a lot nicer than
where I live.”

The housekeeper followed. She stood in the
doorway while Jaeda opened a narrow linen closet. “You’ve got as
many towels and cloths as you might need right in there. At the top
are more pillows and some extra blankets in case you need
them.”

Jaeda swallowed a laugh at the idea of
needing more pillows than the twenty-or-so already on the bed.

Mrs. Wilson went on to say, “I’ve set a brand
new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste on the sink there for you.
And I took the liberty of putting soap and shampoo in the shower. I
suggested to Sutton that I could lend you some of my things to
wear, but he didn’t seem to think that was a good idea. I see now
that he was right. Why, it would be like trying to have a
supermodel wear a child’s clothes.”

“Well, I don’t know that I’d go that far, but
it was nice of you to think of me. And thank you for the robe. I
will put it to good use tonight.”

The housekeeper blushed. “I thought you
might. I only wish I could do more.”

“You’ve done a great deal,” said Jaeda,
passing the woman to make her way to the loveseat. Lowering onto a
too-firm cushion, she searched the housekeeper’s face. “So tell me,
Mrs. Wilson, what did you mean when you said I had you all by
surprise?”

“Why, dear heart, don’t you know? Mr. Jameson
has
never
brought a woman home. Ever.”

Chapter Nine

Fifteen minutes later, Jaeda braced palms
against the shower wall and let hot water stream across her
shoulders and down her back. Teague had never brought a date here.
What did that mean for her?

The agent in her went on alert, thinking of
the old adage about keeping one’s enemies close. He had wanted to
know about her, insisted she talk about herself. Yet he had
revealed nothing about himself other than whom he worked for and
what he did for a living.

The woman in her went soft, though. He
brought her here, to his home – his most private place in the
world, when he could have taken her to a hotel or restaurant or
anywhere, really. Nothing in his countenance indicated he suspected
her purpose. The times she had thought so during their evening
together, it turned out his thoughts ran along a benign path.

So why would he act out of character? Why
would he, after a brief meeting in a bar then a short car ride,
bring her here? Or was she a fool to believe Mrs. Wilson? The
housekeeper worked for him, after all. He’d even referred to his
employees as his
team
.

Turning off the water, Jaeda let the agent
take over. Teague was the enemy. The target. He couldn’t be
trusted.

She toweled dry then wrapped the lush blue
robe around her shower-hot body. She ran fingertips along the
collar and seams to make sure it didn’t contain surveillance wires.
The robe was clean.

In her room, she cracked the door enough to
peek out. The hallway beckoned in deserted silence, so she tiptoed
to the double doors leading to Teague’s private quarters. Holding
her breath, she pressed an ear to the wood.

Male voices spoke in conversational tones.
She could distinguish two distinctly different voices, but the door
muffled them so much she couldn’t tell which belonged to Teague,
much less what they said. It sounded like they talked about
something important.

A sense of urgency came over her. What if
their conversation concerned an issue of America’s national
security? The agency had targeted Teague for a reason.
This
need-to-know thing stinks.

She had to get in there.

Trying the knob, she found it unlocked. She
pushed open the door a crack and peered in. A sitting area
contained a dark green couch, a gold and green striped chair and a
walnut writing desk. On an end table, a gold lamp shone too
brightly, making the bedroom beyond dark in comparison. The voices
continued, still faint and far away.

How big is this suite, anyway?

She scooted inside and closed the door with a
practiced touch, not making a sound. Her bare feet moved
noiselessly across tan Berber carpeting. After edging past the
small desk, she hugged her back to the wall and grasped the ridges
of dark wainscoting below a smooth chair rail.

Glancing around the corner, she surveyed the
large bedroom. A single lamp on a nightstand provided meager light
that left far corners in shadow. Dark green curtains surrounded the
bed, concealing it and obstructing her view to the other side.

She took a moment to admire the soothing
hues, wishing her room looked more like his.

The voices talked on, and now she heard they
discussed financial events that had occurred around the world
during the day. Frowning, Jaeda still couldn’t discern which
belonged to Teague. If they talked so quietly, they clearly talked
about highly secretive matters.

As she moved quickly to the bed, she sank
lower. Making her way to the foot of it, she duck-walked to where
light spilled across the floor. The room stretched another fourteen
feet past the bed and accommodated a second sitting area with a
television.

A television!

She smacked a hand to her forehead. Standing,
she glared at the screen showing two men in suits seated behind a
news desk, delivering the day’s financial report. The reduced
volume made them sound as if they spoke in hushed tones.

Teague’s head appeared where he leaned
sideways behind a green loveseat to get a look at her.

Caught! It’s official. He’s turning me into
the worst secret agent in history.

Between his fists he held a balled hand
towel. He had removed his shirt and tie, and his trousers sagged a
bit at his waist thanks to an unfastened button. “Hello,” he said,
his eyebrows arched in silent question.

Her feet cemented to the floor, and her lungs
stopped working. She could only stare at the square slabs of muscle
that made up his chest, and the ridges that defined his stomach.
What should she say? What possible excuse could she have for coming
into his room uninvited?

“Hello,” she squeaked.

Hello? Was that all she had? Why had she gone
through intensive espionage training if all she could manage was
hello
?

“I was readying for bed.” He pointed toward a
doorway, the source of the light spilling across the Berber. A
bathroom. “Would you like to stay and chat?”

Chat. Yeah, okay. “I didn’t mean to disturb
you.”

He released a bark of laughter and tossed the
towel into the bathroom. The muscles on his arm flexed and released
in a ripple that made her mouth water. “You may not mean to, Jaeda,
but you do a very fine job of it just the same.” He strode to her
and took her by the hands. Walking backward, he drew her to the
loveseat.

“You find me disturbing?” Why did that bother
her? He
ought
to be disturbed by her. She was about to
expose his crooked dealings and ruin his life.

“Very.” With a wolfish grin, he hit the off
button on a remote before dropping it to an oval coffee table.
“Since the moment I met you, I can’t seem to think about anything
else.” He urged her to sit then joined her. “I thought I would lose
my mind when you left without giving me your number. Then I
realized that Caster drove you, and he could simply take me to you.
Still, it occurred to me that you might not
want
to see me
again.”

“You thought wrong.” She
had
to see
him – never mind how quickly she developed a desire for the man
that bordered on obsessive. She was in deep trouble.

His gaze took in her robe before landing on
her bare knee. His voice dropped an octave. “I can’t tell you how
much it pleases me to hear you say that. Although I gathered as
much when you begged me so prettily not to stop…on the sofa in the
study.”

Visions of his heated expression flashed
through her mind. His kisses. His intimate touch. The woman in her
gave the agent a shove out the window.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

He sent fingers into her damp curls and
cupped her ear while pulling her close. He stared into her eyes for
the longest moment. In his gaze, she read sweet need and bare
honesty. It was like staring into the sun – she didn’t think she
could withstand it. But then he blinked and took her lips in a
kiss.

Jaeda’s heart tugged, and she whimpered. Why
did he have to be the bad guy? And why did she have the assignment
to take him down?

Withdrawing, she put a staying hand on his
chest and immediately wished she hadn’t. Warm skin and soft hairs
made her want to press her lips to the unyielding wall of
muscle.

“No, wait.” She panted and ducked her head to
gather her flitting thoughts. “I need to know…” What? Was she
losing it?

“I understand.”

“You do?” How could he understand when
she
didn’t?

“I see your vulnerability.”

Damn it!

“You know nothing about me,” he said,
lowering the robe enough to expose the round of her shoulder.

She made to stop him, but he bent and placed
licking, sucking kisses to her skin. She went weak. It felt so
good. “I know a little, but not enough.”

Teague traveled to her throat, but instead of
moving up, he tilted his head and worked his way across her chest
where the V in the robe exposed skin. “I’m an only child,” he said
between kisses. “My father worked in finance. I learned a great
deal from him. He’s retired. My parents live on an estate in
Yorkshire.” Leaning across her now, he nuzzled her neck before
gently sucking.

Jaeda gasped with pleasure and combed her
fingers into his hair. Her gaze went to the bed where the curtains
on this side stood open. The corner of a brown damask comforter
with a curlicue design in gold thread folded over, offering a peek
at tan sheets. “Tell me more,” she whispered.

“My best friend in the world since we were
boys grew up down the road from me – Mrs. Wilson’s son, Benjamin.
He’s a filmmaker now.” He lowered the robe from her other shoulder
and made his way toward it.

Cool air breezed across her nape. “First
love?”

“Lenora Leffel. We were thirteen. She was my
first kiss – behind the village bakery when I was on holiday from
school.” He chuckled.

“Education?” Was that her breathless
voice?

“I attended the village school to learn my
primary rules. I went to a private boy’s school when I was eight,
then Cambridge.”

Aha! She’d gotten the accent right. “Have you
ever had your heart broken?”

He froze. “Yes.” Stopping his kisses, he sat
straight. “At University. There was a young widow who lived nearby.
She befriended me. The more time we spent together, the more we
grew attached. I think she thought I would marry her when I
graduated, and maybe I entertained the idea myself on occasion. But
she had two young boys, you see, and I wasn’t ready for that. I
couldn’t give her what she wanted. I had to leave her, and it broke
my heart to tears.”