Hot in the City (2 page)

Their advice had been true often enough. Gabe had only been looking for some amusement on the flight, nothing more. She shouldn’t have made more of it, knowing better.

Swallowing her letdown, she refocused her thoughts on work as she rode into the city, alone. As usual.

* * *

G
ABRIEL
R
OSS
—
AT
LEAST
, that was the name he was using for the moment—made it to his hotel still thinking about the woman on the plane. His lips kicked up into a smile as he thought about her, but he killed it. This was work.
She
was work.

Still, he was human. And male. Sitting so closely on the plane, he’d had more than one fantasy about how easy it would be to pick her up and do any number of arousing things to her, she was so petite. If he released her strawberry-blond hair from its sharply pulled back ponytail, how would it frame her heart-shaped face? How would she like to be kissed? How would she taste?

He’d love to find out what else made her blush. Watching her tightly rounded rear end as she walked ahead of him on the jet bridge had driven him crazy. He’d been close to asking her to dinner. Maybe for more than dinner.

It wasn’t often anyone—man or woman—beat him at poker. But of course, it would be tough to beat someone with her card-counting skills. She might be able to fool the average person, but Gabe was trained to notice such things. Once he’d figured out her game, he was able to take a few hands. It hadn’t been easy, though. He’d enjoyed the challenge.

But she also wasn’t a random person he’d met at the airport. She was his target. Or one of them. Dr. Olive Delilah Clark—Della, as she’d been called since she was young—was someone he needed to get close to.

Someone had been leaking sensitive data about the development of a vaccine for biological weapons at a NYC-based biotech firm, and it was Gabe’s job to find out who it was. They’d only gotten part of the research, and would no doubt be making an attempt to get more. So DHS planted dummy research, hoping the culprits went for the bait.

However, the perpetrator clearly had an inside contact, or a back-door in, to access the company’s research computers, which were offline. Gabe needed to get inside and find out who that contact was, and how the spies were accomplishing their task.

He’d be going in as a DHS investigator doing routine security checks on the staff members who worked on military contracts. In reality, he’d be running deep surveillance and peeking under the covers to see what secrets the lab’s employees might be hiding.

Anyone who was particularly interesting would merit deeper investigation. It meant digging into people’s lives—their private lives—and doing whatever it took to stop the leak.

Della had worked for the company as a contractor in the past, on the vaccine project, though the details were above her civilian security clearance. She finished her work in the early stages of the project, but that didn’t mean she escaped suspicion. She was an outlier, a random element, but that made her particularly interesting. She might be completely innocent, but it was also possible she had been turned or was being compelled by foreign agents. She was also smart—so he had to be smarter.

Gabe grabbed the computer bag he’d taken from the plane and slung it up on the wide table in front of the couch. He took pictures with his phone as he opened it, so he could replicate the case when he put it back together. An e-reader in a bright purple plastic skin appeared, and several foreign-language tapes tumbled out onto the floor.

Della’s bag. He’d done his homework, bringing along a similar bag of his own and taking hers “by mistake.”

The tapes were for learning Italian, but what he was most interested in was the laptop. There were no other papers of consequence in the case. He fired up his own machine, which had been waiting for him in the car, and started the password-breaking software he needed to get into Della’s computer.

While it ran, he filtered through her other belongings. Opening the laptop, he raised an eyebrow at the spreadsheet labeled “potentials” and found a list of names—male names—with comments and traits listed. Then he saw the links to online profiles—not spies, but online dating profiles.

Della was trying to find men online? That surprised him, and he went through the profiles, checking out each one in detail. In the process of doing so, he became irritated at the idea of Della actually dating any of these losers. She was better than this.

A beep signaled him that the password had been found, and he turned his attention to her laptop, allowing him to skim her files and download everything to his computer. There were several locked folders, and those he would need more time to investigate. He put the case back together exactly as he’d found it and checked his watch.

How long would it be before she noticed that she had the wrong bag and contacted him? It was imperative that she initiate their next contact. It would make her feel in control.

He couldn’t deny that he was looking forward to seeing her again. The opportunity to get closer to Dr. Clark was a tempting one, and while part of the job, he didn’t usually feel this keen a sense of anticipation at the prospect. What he’d found so far, unless there was more in the files, required only a general surveillance. He wanted to learn more.

For better or worse.

It was a rationalization, of course. He also wanted to have sex with her; he could be honest with himself about that much.

Sitting back, he pulled the laptop toward him, starting to study the files, and waited for the phone to ring. He had no doubt that it would.

2

D
ELLA
SLOWED
HER
PACE
as she approached the restaurant where she was meeting Gabe Ross. She’d been shocked when she’d opened her bag and realized it wasn’t hers. Especially when she’d discovered the stack of papers with the Homeland Security letterhead and his badge inside. She’d closed it as quickly as possible, calling him immediately.

She’d been so flustered on the plane that she’d clearly grabbed the wrong bag.

Still, she thought with a smile playing around her lips, it had resulted in her seeing Gabe again. It had taken every ounce of nerve to call him after discovering the mistake and finding his contact information on the luggage tag.

As she approached the small café with tables on the sidewalk under a charming dark red canopy, she heard her name called and looked up to see Gabe standing by the door.

Della walked quickly toward him, seeing that he had her case as well.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, grimacing. “I could have had this sent to you, instead of dragging you all the way up here.”

He smiled, taking his case as he handed her hers. “This is much better. I wouldn’t have wanted the case in unfamiliar hands.”

“Oh, yes, I—” she said, dropping her eyes down, then meeting his again. “I didn’t look through your things, of course, but I did open it and saw you work for the government. I promise I only saw the letterhead and your badge and then closed it right away.”

“I appreciate that,” he said. “Your things should be intact. I didn’t know we’d switched until you called.”

Then one of the waiters, Gianni, appeared, smiling in her direction.

“Ciao, Gianni. Come stai? Avete una tavola libera?”

“Ho sempre una tavolo per voi, bella,”
Gianni said fondly, grabbing menus and leading them to a table on the patio.

Gabe looked at her. “You speak Italian, too?”

“Not as well as I’d like to. I have a chance to go to Italy as a visiting lecturer this fall, but I haven’t made up my mind yet. So I practice when I can.”

“
Grazie
, Gianni,” she said, smiling at the older man. “This is Gabe.”

“Nice to meet you, Gabe,” the waiter said, and Della almost had to chuckle at how Gianni smiled, but his eyes narrowed on Gabe as he took their drink orders.

“A close friend?” Gabe inquired when Gianni disappeared back inside.

“I tutored his youngest daughter so she could improve her math scores for college, and I wrote her a recommendation. I spent several evenings at their home, and here at the restaurant, teaching her, so I did get to be friends with the family. They are a lovely group.”

“Did she end up getting into the school she wanted?”

“She did. Full scholarship to Cornell in veterinary science.” Della smiled, proud of her friend, and that she could help.

“Did you grow up here, in the city?” Gabe asked.

“No, I was born in Connecticut, and I spent a good deal of my teenage years in Boston.”

She stopped there, not elaborating that she had spent her teenage years in Massachusetts because she had been admitted to Harvard when she was fifteen. She’d finished her first PhD by the time she was twenty, and then a second at twenty-four.

“When did you start working at Columbia?”

“About eight years ago. New York is home now. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

“But you travel a lot?”

“I do. I do work as a consultant on several government and private-sector projects in addition to teaching, and I visit universities in different countries. It’s a great excuse to travel.” She paused as Gianni delivered their wine and took their orders, then turned the discussion away from herself. “So, you work for DHS? That has to be exciting.”

“Actually, most of my work is at my desk. I do a lot of strategic analysis, that kind of thing. Writing analyst reports and giving advice on operations.”

“Oh, I love logisitics!” Della said enthusiastically, and then bit her lip.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Oh, I know I can get geeky about things like that, you know, it can put people off.”

To her surprise, he frowned, and then reached over to touch her hand, which rested on the table by her wineglass.

“You shouldn’t hold back when you’re excited about something,” he said, staring into her eyes so intently that she couldn’t look away.

She also wondered for a second if he knew how excited she was about being here with him—and how he was touching her hand.

Then she chastised herself for making the same mistake she’d made on the plane, being too hopeful. This was just a dinner, and he was only being nice. He wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for the bag switch.

“Thank you,” she said, gently disentangling her hand from his—or trying. When she pulled away, he curled his fingers around hers, and squeezed. Then he let go.

Oh my.

“Besides, it’s not every day someone finds my work interesting, either. They imagine feds are always busting down doors or hauling in bad guys, but for me, it’s a lot of paperwork. Which is fine. I had enough action in the army.”

“You served?”

“Ten years, four tours to Iraq and Afghanistan.”

Della watched his features change as he talked, how his smile faded and his eyes became shadowed.

“And you came home and joined DHS?”

“I actually went back to college first, something I hadn’t had the time to do back before I joined the military. But school wasn’t my thing—never really was. My military experience was more valuable, for DHS, anyway. So I talked to some contacts, and that was where I ended up five years ago.”

“What were you studying in school? Where did you go?”

“Virginia Tech. I thought I’d do something with IT, but it wasn’t where my strengths were.”

“So you live in Virginia?”

“Well, D.C. now.”

She sighed, fighting the well of admiration and sheer lust that his story aroused in her. He was military, he served his country and he continued to do that. A hero.

A handsome, sexy, amazing hero. Here at dinner, with her.

Their dinners arrived, which was a good thing, before Della made a fool out of herself fawning all over him. As much as she loved the food here, Della barely tasted anything as she ate her chicken piccata.

And as she lifted a tender bite of meat to her lips, she met his eyes and realized he was watching her, his own dinner untouched as he observed her with an intense, hot look.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head as if to break the trance, but his gaze found its way back to her mouth again as she took the bite. “I just...you’re very beautiful. I guess I shouldn’t say things like that. For all I know, you’re married, or with someone else.”

The words made her catch her breath and she coughed.

Gabe was around the table in a second, his arms around her, lifting her from the chair, but her breath came back before any action was needed.

“I’m okay...it’s gone,” she said.

He didn’t remove his arms, at least not right away. Della straightened, but that only brought their bodies closer together. It seemed natural to place her hand on his at her waist.

“Thank you, but to answer your question, there’s no one at the moment.”

Gabe leaned his face down into her neck, breathing in, and then he spoke low by her ear.

“I’m glad to hear that. Tell me if I’m overstepping, but do you think Gianni would wrap this up so we could take it back to your place?”

Her heart slammed in her chest. Was he asking what she thought he was asking? She wasn’t sure what to say...but Della knew what she
wanted
, and went for it.

“I think he’d do that, yes,” she whispered, lifting her face toward his so she spoke close to his mouth, just a breath away from a kiss.

“Good.”

The way he said the word, with so much sensual promise, made her skin ripple with pinpricks of sensation.

“Though I’m not really that hungry,” she added as she met his eyes when he stepped away.

“I am. Starving,” he said against her ear, and she shivered, knowing he didn’t mean he wanted their leftovers.

Della’s mind spun; this was a first in her life, for sure. Gianni knew to put dinner on her tab, and so she took Gabe’s hand and they walked quickly down the walk, less busy now after dark had fallen.

As they passed into the shadow of a streetlight under a huge tree, Gabe grabbed her hand, stopping her from moving forward. Stepping back under the tree, he pulled her up close and looked down into her face.

“I’ve wanted to do this ever since I saw you on the plane.”

He kissed her, and Della’s world turned upside down. She was pretty sure she had never been kissed before, certainly not like this.

Gabe took control, keeping her tight against him, sliding his tongue between her lips, urging her to open, which she did, so willingly she should have been embarrassed.

But she wasn’t.

Instead, she pressed in close, wound her arms around his neck and made a few forays of her own, nipping at his bottom lip and then licking the spot, making him groan in approval.

She was close enough that she could feel the hard ridge of his arousal against her belly, and that triggered her own libido, too. Still, somewhere in the back of her mind, all she could think was, is this really happening?

“Yes, it really is,” he whispered against her mouth. “As long as you want it to.”

She closed her eyes, her cheeks aflame. Good thing it was so dark. “I can’t believe I said that out loud.”

“I was thinking it, too,” he reassured her, dipping in for another kiss. “You’re delicious.”

His compliment made her blush and laugh softly against his mouth. No one had ever told her she was
delicious
.

“Let’s go,” she said, echoing his sentiment from the restaurant.

He grabbed her hand, and they hurried from their hiding spot under the sprawl of the tree, and within minutes she was opening the door and holding her breath, nerves assaulting her again.

She ignored her doubts and inner demons, turning to Gabe and taking matters into her own hands. She pressed up against him, flattening him to the wall of the entryway—he went willingly—and tugged him down by his shirt collar for more kissing.

Merely kissing Gabe was already better than any sex she’d ever had before. Della couldn’t wait to see what would come next.

“I like a woman who knows what she wants,” he managed to say in between deep, wet kisses that she could easily find addicting.

She pulled back and, remembering the moment on the plane when she’d first seen him, she reached up and pushed the recalcitrant shock of hair, which always fell forward, back in place.

He smiled at that and captured her hand with his, bringing it to his lips.

“Upstairs, then?”

Della nodded and turned toward the stairs, but was swamped with sudden doubt. She’d never done this before, meeting a man she barely knew and taking him home to bed. Taking him to her room, her sanctuary, was too intimate, crazy as that seemed considering what they were about to do, and she faltered as she crossed the entry.

His hands cupped her shoulders, rubbing lightly.

“Everything okay?”

Was it?

What if she disappointed him? He was clearly more experienced and more at ease.
What if
...
?

“I can leave. It’s okay, Della” he said reassuringly.

She took a deep breath and turned to face him.

“I’m sorry. Cold feet, I guess. Do you mind if we...stay downstairs?”

“Sure. Listen, let’s sit, have a glass of wine and talk. There’s no pressure. I’ve enjoyed your company, and whether this goes further or not, that doesn’t change.”

The sincerity in his voice did her in. That was sexier than anything, and Della was quite sure she wasn’t going to let him leave until after they had both gotten naked. But a glass of wine sounded good, too.

“Thank you. I do have a nice white wine that I haven’t opened yet. If you want to go in and sit, I can get it from the fridge.”

“Sounds perfect,” he said, leaning in to kiss the side of her neck, sending sparks dancing over her skin.

Della hurried with the wine, hoping Gabe didn’t change his mind, and she almost heaved a sigh of relief when she found him settled comfortably on the sofa, looking at an architectural magazine from her coffee table.

He looked so...
right
, sitting there. Relaxed and at home, incredibly masculine. And for the moment, all hers.

What was she worried about?

She’d uncorked the wine in the kitchen and brought two glasses with her, setting them on the table, noting he’d pulled the curtains. She filled one of the glasses and turned to him.

He put down the magazine, offering a curious look at the single glass.

She bit her lip, jumping in and convincing herself to take this chance to explore some fantasies, perhaps.

Handing him the glass, she didn’t sit next to him, but instead lowered down over his lap, straddling his strong thighs and enjoying the flicker of surprise—and approval—in his expression.

Della took the glass from his hand, dipped her finger into the bright, golden wine and traced it over his lips.

Heat sparked in his eyes, and she was relieved again that she hadn’t spoiled the evening. Leaning down to lick it from his mouth, she was surprised to feel him catch his breath.

So she did it again, though this time he caught her finger in between his lips and sucked the taste from her skin, and it was her turn to gasp at the incredible sensation.

She knew that fingertips were one of the most concentrated nerve centers in the body, but she’d never really considered them an erogenous zone before—until Gabe sucked in her finger a second time, sending a shock of pleasure down between her thighs, which tightened and squeezed his.

Gabe noticed. “Do it again.”

She did, dipping her fingers into the wine and then to his mouth, and the same sensation made her shudder, her eyes closing.

“It’s, um, been a while,” she managed, breathless. “I guess I’m extra sensitive.”

“Well, that makes this even more fun,” he said, taking the wineglass from her and setting it on the table next to the magazines.