INTO DANGER (Secret Assassins (S.A.S.S.) Book 1) (11 page)

Stuff of myths. He frowned. Another M word. Marlena the Myth.

He had a plateful piled high with information. Marlena stuff. His own operations chief stuff. His very own stuff. And somewhere in there was a nugget of truth. All he had to do was figure out how to see what wasn’t there, because he didn’t trust the cameras like these guys did.

That conversation between her and the seller bothered him somehow. He had a feeling he was close to getting a big revelation, but so far everything was clouded. One thing was sure, though. Harden didn’t think he could do the job because of his attraction to the target. Knowing that only added to his determination to be successful at this assignment.

He, Steve McMillan, had a job. And that was to catch a mermaid. Another M word, he realized with growing despondency. He was much too obsessed with M words.

***

M
arlena put her hand on her heart. Her eyes widened appreciatively. Good Lord.

The object of her attention frowned down at her, obviously unhappy with his situation. The corners of his masculine lips were turned down like those of a sulky child, begging to be kissed. Tempting, very tempting.

“What?” he demanded.

The recessed lighting in her bedroom cast intriguing shadows on his handsome face, giving him a mysterious and dangerous air. It just wasn’t fair for a man to have cheekbones that perfect, Marlena mourned in silent envy. Most women had to suck in their cheeks and blow out their lips to get that look. It just wasn’t fair. His smoothly shaven jaw line was chiseled perfection, ending with that cute dimple in his willful chin. His dark hair was combed back, the first time she had seen it so neat. The crisp dark Valente tuxedo emphasized his broad shoulders. Its clean, simple straight lines gave an illusion of leashed power. From the top of his head to his polished new Guccis, Steve McMillan looked as if he’d stepped out of a GQ magazine. He would look good in uniform, she thought, and rubbed her poor palpitating heart again.

“Such beauty,” Marlena mocked, smiling up at him. “I don’t think my heart can take it.”

His dark gaze slithered possessively up and down her, resting a few moments on the bare flesh of her bosom. Her heart beat faster.

“I think that’s my line,” he told her, his lips softening into a reluctant smile of admiration.

She wore the new daring gown she’d bought. That day she’d deliberately chosen it because she’d wanted to turn him on, knowing very well how he hated to be there waiting for her to try on yet another set of clothes. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she found it amusing to tease him, to make him as aware of her as she was of him. She’d never felt the need to garner any man’s attention before.

“You’ve already seen me in this,” she told him, brushing down the soft material with one hand. She adjusted the new brooch holding the gown together under her belly button, arranging the folds of the dress to fan out at the bottom with an artistic flair. It was a delicately designed piece, yet heavy enough to be used for the bold designer outfit. Little diamonds sparkled among
fleurs de lis
shaped by tiny seed pearls, drawing attention away from the plunging neckline. She had fallen in love with it, even though the fastener behind it had a tricky catch.

“Let me.” He came closer. He couldn’t reach the brooch standing up, so he went down on his haunches, coming eye level to it. “Is this what’s holding the dress together?”

His voice was soft and seductive, and Marlena held her breath as his fingers touched the piece of jewelry, lifting it and the attached material off her body enough so he could properly fasten it. Sheer torture. But it was important to let him take his time.

She closed her eyes, feeling unbelievably aroused at the thought of how gentle his hands were. How could such big hands be so tender? He didn’t touch her bare flesh at all but she felt his warm breath caressing her in a slow rhythm. Her plan to distract him, keep his mind occupied with other things, was working far too well.

“Do you have anything underneath this at all?”

Marlena opened her eyes to see Steve’s dark gaze contemplating his own question. He leaned closer, as if to find out for himself.

“Yes. My Tweety Bird tattoo,” she answered very softly. “And we’re going to be late if you mess with my dress. The trick in keeping it in place is not to play with it.”

Her words had the desired opposite effect. She knew Stash would take it as a challenge. His hands spanned her waist, and her breath caught when he rubbed her lower belly with his thumbs. She closed her eyes again, wondering whether she could afford to be late for the party. His hands slid from her waist to her hips, his thumb scoring down the front of her tummy with erotic slowness. Lower. She felt his hands hugging her thighs, his thumbs exploring the curve where her legs met her hips. They followed a sensuous pattern as his long fingers cupped her buttocks, and desire swamped her senses as those magic thumbs explored the twin geometrical lines that ended at the point of a triangle. God, if she wasn’t careful, she would be the one distracted, not him.

Marlena bit down on her lower lip, refusing to allow any sounds to escape. “Stash...” she began, trying to sound normal. His thumbs pressed down on the apex of the triangle and a soft involuntary moan rose from her lips.

His voice held a trace of curiosity. “I don’t feel any panties, but there’s something here...what is it?” He pressed down again, tracing the small little bumps.

Marlena laid her hands on his shoulder for support. Why had she come up with such a naughty idea? Part of her understood her own seductive power over him, and she had to use it, so she could conduct business while his mind was on other things. However, she was discovering there was a part of her that was very weak and helplessly under the power of the very same man. Her knees were melting under her from the delicious torture he was putting her through. But she wasn’t going to tell him that, or they would never leave this room.

“What is it?” he asked again.

“I already told you,” she replied stubbornly and gripped harder as his curious investigation pulled and stretched her sensitive skin. Clearing her throat, she said as firmly as she could, “We have to go.”

He finally looked up at her. The heat in his eyes threatened to set her in flames. He slowly stood up, his thumb following the mysterious object under her gown. “All right, if you say so,” he said, but his eyes promised other things.

She curbed the disappointment. Don’t be ridiculous, she scolded herself. Keep your mind on your job.

As if he’d read her thoughts, Steve asked where they were going. “What kind of party is it? What do I have to do?”

He would know sooner or later, so she told him their destination. “Do you know du Scheum?” He should. The name was synonymous with synthetic and plastic products, for both household and scientific uses.

“Not personally, no,” he replied facetiously, as he watched her squirt some perfume on her wrists. He frowned slightly. “Hell, we’re going to a party given by du Scheum? You run around with some big names, don’t you?”

Marlena smiled secretively. She could see he was already busy going through the possible reasons for her going there. That was why she needed to distract him. Wanting to test him, she said, “I make friends easily. Part of my job.”

“Really. You know, you’ve never elaborated exactly what it is that you do.” He opened the apartment door for her and they stepped out into the carpeted hallway. “After all, being chased by cars and getting threatening phone calls sort of eliminated the usual socialite party animal I was told to accompany.”

She coughed. “I can hardly believe the man who hired you told you that.”

“That’s the description he gave me when I asked what you were like,” Steve said smugly. “He didn’t say anything about car chases. Or shopping.”

Marlena smiled again. The last word was said with a great deal more disgust than the car chase. Surely the man had some warped priorities. She would have to teach him the fine art of shopping a whole day away another time. But for now she had to concentrate on tonight’s agenda.

He seemed to read her mind again. “What do I do? I don’t know anybody. Do I say hi and shake hands vigorously? Do I clap Mr. du Scheum on the back and talk to him about what a wonderful invention the plastic egg beater is?” When she burst out laughing, he shrugged, as if he had the right to ask stupid questions. “It’s a tough thing to do well, this obedience thing.”

Marlena rolled her eyes. Like he really was trying so hard. “I doubt du Scheum and you will get a chance to sit down and talk. There are more important and wealthier people there who need his attention, Stash. Unless, of course, you have connections to help du Scheum Industries?”

“Do you?”

Ah, a loaded question. If she didn’t, why would she be at this exclusive party? Du Scheum didn’t invite just anybody. He was a facilitator, a powerful ally between politics and business. Of course, sometimes these two things brought together blurred ethical lines.

“Let’s just say that I know people du Scheum knows, and he knows people I know,” she told Steve. “And all I require you to do is to stay close by me, but don’t interrupt too much with your questions. Would that be too much to hope for?”

He gave her one of those quizzical looks she was beginning to recognize. He would do as she asked but would exact payment afterward. Warm desire settled in the pit of her stomach.

“I’ll be so good, people will want me for their lackey,” Steve promised. Marlena made a rude sound. He studied her as they descended in the lift, then asked, “You know so many people, why can’t you get a rich man to take you to one of these parties?”

Marlena sighed. Obviously it was time to distract him again. She ran a hand down the front of her dress, knowing that his eyes would follow as she pretended to smooth away some imaginary wrinkle by the brooch. She fingered the jeweled piece. She ran a suggestive hand down her hip, adjusting the skirt. The elevator door opened to the underground garage and without a word, she stepped out first, making sure she brushed against him as she passed.

She smiled furtively again, pleased to have interrupted his thought process. His footsteps behind her were somehow erotic to her ears, as if he were hot on her heels. Just after she slid into the passenger side of the Porsche, he leaned in, his expression scorching as his eyes traveled down her body. She inhaled the woodsy cologne he wore, mixed with a certain scent of desire. He was fast. He’d already figured it out.

His eyes pierced the dark interior of the car, knowledge and surprise mingled with sensual awareness. “That long pearl necklace,” he muttered. “Lady, you aren’t just wearing a Tweety Bird tattoo under there.”

Marlena scooted a little away and flashed Steve an innocent smile. It was wiser to be quiet, letting his imagination do the work. If she pushed too hard, he could see through her scheme, and where they were going, she needed to constantly be on guard, to be in control of the situation. She was there to be seen and documented, as well as to make sure everything was going according to plan.

Turning the radio on, she chose a station playing light jazz. Steve’s silence didn’t bother her at all. In fact, it was one thing about him that fascinated her. Most people were usually deep in thought or concentrating on the task at hand when they were quiet, but she always felt Steve was constantly on alert, even when he lounged lazily on the sofa. He seemed very at ease doing nothing, as if he spent a lot of time sitting alone, yet it wasn’t a relaxed, detached easiness caused by a lazy lifestyle. Even sitting in the middle of a women’s boutique, he gave the impression of a jungle cat watching his prey.

So the million-dollar question was—was Steve McMillan stalking her? Or was he just a pawn in this game she chose to play? Tonight she would have some answers.

She studied him surreptiously. This wasn’t just sexual attraction. She’d dated good-looking men before and had only enjoyed their company. She’d certainly never had the urge to make them breakfast. Even during her last attempt at making a relationship work, she’d never played housewife. Of course, that had been the problem. She just couldn’t see herself in that role, and compromise was out of the question. She’d put the lives of some friends in jeopardy because she wanted things to work out, and she’d vowed ever since to be alone. It was better not to be emotionally dependent on others in her line of work.

She checked her newly painted nails with distracted interest. It wasn’t good to want a man so badly. It would only end up getting her killed.

––––––––

S
teve made a mental note to one day drive up here in the daylight and check out the neighborhood. They were in one of the more exclusive neighborhoods by the Potomac River, the kind of houses surrounded by walls and electronic gates, with boat docks in their backyards.

He gave a slight grin of self-mockery. Not that he would be shopping for a pad here. Du Scheum’s pocketbook far exceeded the pay of a navy SEAL. Even with the extra money he was getting for this new transfer, he’d probably never be able to afford land a quarter the size of this—he looked around—place. He looked at the beautifully lit driveway with its swaying trees as they drove on.

Uniformed servants opened the car doors as each limousine and expensive car inched its way to the front steps of the beautiful mansion lit up by dozens of colored globe lights. Steve stepped out of the Porsche and waited for Marlena while a uniformed servant helped her out. He frowned when her smile brought a blush to the young man’s face as he tried not to stare too hard at the front of her gown. It didn’t help to think about those pearls not far away.

“Thank you, madam,” the usher said as he accepted his tip. “Please let me know if you need anything else. Please keep this card so we know where we parked your car.”

Marlena’s smile became wicked when she reached Steve’s side. “Lackey,” she teased, knowing that it would get to him. “I think I’ll hire him next time.”

Steve glowered down at her. “Better buy a cemetery plot. He’d bore you to death and have to bury you.”