Secret Agent Seduction (15 page)

“A videoconference.” Lia glanced out the window at the driving sheets of rain spilling from the gray sky. “And the best part is, we don't even have to leave the cabin.”

When Nanette Magliore sat down in front of a video monitor and saw her oldest son for the first time in weeks, tears of joy welled in her dark brown eyes. She was a petite, dark-skinned woman with salt-and-pepper hair worn in a soft natural that accentuated the smooth roundness of her face. She was flanked by her two children, Felicite and Henri, twenty-four-year-old fraternal twins who bore little resemblance to each other. While Henri appeared to be as tall and darkly handsome as his older brother, Felicite was petite like her mother and astonishingly curvaceous, with a coffee-and-cream complexion and an exotic blend of features. The only feature the twins shared was Armand's amber-colored eyes, but even in that they were different. While Henri's eyes were serious and intense, his sister's glowed with an irrepressible spirit that was infectious.

At the moment, all three members of the Magliore clan were staring at the video monitor with identical expressions of happiness and relief.

The moment they saw Armand, they all started speaking at once. But it was Nanette's thickly accented island lilt that broke through first. “Is that you,
mwen fis?
” she asked tearfully.

Magliore laughed, a sound of pure, unadulterated joy that touched Lia's heart. “Of course it's me, Maman. Who else were you expecting?”

His lighthearted quip was met with a rumble of appreciative laughter. “We could not believe it when they told us we would be seeing you today,” Nanette said, beaming at her oldest son. “I told the agent in charge it would be cruel to tease us and get our hopes up for nothing.”

“You should have seen Maman,” Felicite interjected with a playful grin. “She threatened to knock that poor man upside his head with her
bous
if he was lying to us. And you know how heavy Maman's
bous
is!”

Everyone laughed. Even Lia, who stood to the far right of Magliore, out of the camera frame, chuckled at the thought of the petite woman assaulting a federal agent with her purse.

“They were not teasing you, Maman,” Magliore said, smiling warmly as his deep voice took on the lazy, lilting cadence of Muwaitian patois. “I will be forever indebted to Special Agent Charles for arranging this special meeting.”

“Is it safe?” Henri asked. “They told us it was too dangerous to see or speak to you at all.”

Magliore nodded. “They are right,
mwen frè.
It is very dangerous. But the government has sophisticated technology to make this videoconference one-hundred-percent safe.”

“How?” Henri inquired, his eyes alight with avid curiosity.

“Well, basically, the transmitting signal between our two locations is scrambled to keep any unauthorized individuals from tracing—” Seeing the glazed look that came over his mother's and sister's eyes, Magliore laughed. “Ah, never mind the technicalities. The point is, this is the safest way for us to communicate with one another. Now, how is everyone doing?
Tout bagay anfom?
Are you being treated well?”

All three nodded vigorously. “They told us not to describe too much where we are staying,” Nanette said, “but I can tell you that it is
very
nice. Very comfortable.”

“Très bon,”
Magliore said approvingly.

Felicite groaned. “I think I've gained too much weight from all this good food they're feeding us.”

Magliore smiled affectionately at his sister. “You look just fine to me,
'tite chatte.
”

Felicite grinned, blowing him a kiss. “And that is why
you
are my favorite brother,” she cooed.

Henri laughed, reaching behind his mother to tug on one of Felicite's long, beautiful braids. “She's just mad at me because I told her to stop flirting with Agent Rollins. You would tell her the same thing if you could see the way she's been carrying on.”

“Bah! You tell stories. Besides, it's not my fault he's so handsome,” Felicite said, smiling coquettishly at someone off-camera, presumably Agent Rollins.

Lia hid a knowing chuckle behind her hand.

“Your sister, she likes America,” Nanette informed Armand. “She's even thinking about staying here permanently.”

Magliore raised a dubious brow. “Because of Agent Rollins?”

Felicite laughed. “
Non!
Of course not! Not that you couldn't tempt me into running away with you,
cher,
” she hastened to soothe the agent's wounded ego, flashing another demure smile at him. “I just want my brother to understand that I have other reasons for liking your country so much.”

“She likes the president being a woman,” Henri elaborated. “She thinks all countries should be run by women. I told her she will feel differently when
you
become the next president of Muwaiti.”

Magliore laughed, shaking his head. “Still campaigning for me, eh, little brother?”

Henri grinned unabashedly. “If I tell you often enough, maybe you will start taking the idea more seriously.”

“Petèt,”
Magliore said softly. “Maybe.”

Felicite's eyes widened with shock.
“Bigre! Tu es sérieux?”

“I'm serious.” He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I will say anything to keep you from leaving home,
'tite chatte.
”

“No one is leaving home,” Nanette said with the decisive resolve of a true matriarch. “America has been good to us, yes, but Muwaiti is where we belong. Where we all belong,” she added with a pointed look at her daughter.

“Sekonsa,”
Magliore said in agreement.

Inexplicably, Lia felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She refused to examine the cause.

“I miss all of you,” Magliore said quietly to his family.

“We miss you, too,” they chorused in heartfelt unison.

“I will be so glad when this is all over and we can be together again,” Nanette added.

“Me, too, Maman.” Magliore hesitated, then said humbly, “I'm sorry.”

His mother and siblings exchanged confused glances. “Why are you sorry?” Felicite demanded indignantly.

“For putting all of you through this ordeal,” Magliore said, his voice thick with suppressed emotion. “If I hadn't started this war with—”

He was interrupted by a barrage of vehement protests.

“Nonsans!”
his mother cried. Leaning forward in her chair, she fixed her son with an intent, piercing gaze. “Listen to me,
mwen fis,
and listen good. You have nothing to be sorry for.
Anyen
—nothing! Before we left home, do you know what our people were saying about you? They called you strong and brave. They said any man willing to sacrifice his own life for the good of his people deserves to be called a hero. That is what you are,
cher.
A hero. If your father was alive today, he would be as proud of you as we are.” Her voice broke on the last word, and tears misted her eyes. “This is your legacy, Armand Jacques Magliore. To return to your countrymen the future that has been wrongfully stolen from them. Don't ever,
ever
apologize for fulfilling the destiny God has chosen for you.”

By the time she'd finished speaking, Lia felt tears clogging the back of her throat. She was not the only one who'd been moved by Nanette Magliore's eloquent, powerful speech. Both Felicite and Henri had tears shimmering in their eyes as they stared at their older brother.

With his head slightly bowed and his hands clasped between his legs, Magliore sat without speaking for a few minutes, absorbing his mother's impassioned words. He seemed to be overcome with emotion, as well as an overwhelming sense of gratitude that rendered him temporarily speechless.

As Lia gazed upon him, she felt her heart expand in her chest, leaving her suddenly breathless and…frightened.

What on earth was happening to her?

Before she could answer her own panicked question, she heard Magliore draw a deep, ragged breath and slowly exhale. Lifting his head at last, he gazed at his family. “I love all of you,” he said in an achingly husky voice. “
De tout mon coeur.
With all my heart. Whatever happens, don't ever forget that.”

Hearing an eerie note of farewell in his voice, Felicite burst into tears.

Magliore looked anguished. “No, no, don't cry,
'tite chatte,
” he entreated his sister. “You know what your crying has always done to me.”

Felicite turned and sobbed into her mother's shoulder. Tears rolled silently and mournfully down Nanette's face as she comforted her weeping daughter. Henri looked as helpless as his brother, who glanced over beseechingly at Lia.

She stepped forward, clearing her own constricted throat. “We should, uh, wrap this up soon.”

Magliore nodded. He stood, walked over to the monitor and knelt down. With searing, focused intensity he stared into the sorrowful faces of each of his family members. “I have to go, but I want all of you to listen to me. Are you listening?”

They nodded dutifully, staring intently at him.

“When this is over,” Magliore said with fierce conviction, “we're going to organize the biggest, most festive parade our town has ever seen. We're going to march through the streets with our fellow countrymen, rejoicing and proclaiming our freedom to the rest of the world. And then, when the celebration is over, we're going to roll up our sleeves and get to work rebuilding our homeland. We're going to make Muwaiti greater than it has ever been. Do you believe me?”

His mother and siblings nodded, their eyes bright with renewed hope and determination.

“We're going to get through this,” Magliore continued with feeling. “But you have to remain strong and courageous. Not just for yourselves, but for me, as well. I need your strength, your courage, your love. That's what keeps me going. That's what has
always
kept me going.” Slowly he lifted his hand to touch the screen. When Nanette, Henri and Felicite moved forward to press their hands against his in a touching show of solidarity, he smiled softly. “I will see you very soon.”

When the call ended a few minutes later, Lia, still moved by the heartrending family reunion, began putting away the videoconferencing equipment.

Without warning Magliore reached for her arm, gently turning her toward him.

She stared up at him as he cradled her face between his hands. When she saw the sheen of tears glistening in his eyes, her heart swelled with an emotion so intense it took her breath away.

She closed her eyes as he leaned down and brushed his lips across hers in a brief, achingly tender kiss.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Lia nodded wordlessly, not trusting her voice.

She watched as he walked quietly to his room and closed the door behind him.

And then she just stood there, immobile, realizing that the greatest threat she faced was not losing her reputation or her job—or even her life.

It was losing her heart to Armand Jacques Magliore.

T
wo hours later Armand stood in his bedroom doorway with his arms folded across his chest, a smile tugging at his mouth as he gazed across the living room at Lia. She was seated on the sofa with her legs crossed yoga-style, her notebook computer propped on her lap as she worked on what appeared to be a report. Just how much progress she was actually making remained to be seen, since she couldn't seem to keep her eyes open. As Armand watched, she would tap away furiously for a few minutes, but then, as her eyelids grew heavy, her fingers would still over the keyboard and she'd nod off.

This went on for about ten minutes before Armand, feeling mischievous, decided to have some fun with her. Ducking back into his room, he toed off his boots and socks, then crept soundlessly across the living room. When he reached the sofa where Lia was dozing quietly, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

She jumped nearly five feet into the air.

Armand stepped back from the sofa with a shout of laughter. Lia whipped her head around and glared at him.

“I'm sorry,” he gasped, clutching his stomach. “I couldn't resist.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “You are
so
lucky I realized it was you before I went for my gun.”

This only made him laugh harder.

Shaking her head in disgust, Lia turned back to her laptop. “Your poor sister,” she muttered. “I can only imagine the horrible pranks you must have played on her when you were growing up.”

“Actually,” Armand countered, wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes, “Felicite was the prankster, and a damn good one, at that. She was so devious she hardly ever got caught. Just ask my brother. He was her favorite victim.”

Lia grunted noncommittally.

Armand rounded the sofa to plunk down beside her. “What are you working on?” he asked, glancing over at her computer.

She hit a button and the screen went blank. “Just trying to catch up on some work.”

Armand chuckled. “So secretive.”

“Nature of the beast,” she quipped, closing her laptop with a snap and leaning forward to set it down on the ottoman. She rolled her head in a counter-clockwise motion, then lifted her hand and rubbed the muscles at the back of her neck.

Without thinking Armand reached up, replacing her hand with his own. She tensed immediately.

“Relax,” he murmured. “Let me help you out a little.”

She hesitated, then gave a slight nod.

As his fingers began kneading the skin at her nape, he felt the tension slowly ebbing from her body. Her eyes drifted closed and her head fell forward limply, giving him greater access to her neck and shoulders. God, she felt incredible.

“Why didn't you lie down and take a nap?” Armand asked before his imagination began to wander. “You kept falling asleep out here.”

“I know,” Lia mumbled drowsily. “Rain always makes me sleepy.”

Even as she spoke, thunder rumbled outside, right above the cabin. A strong gust of wind sent billowing curtains of rain lashing against the windows. The lights flickered.

“It hasn't let up all morning,” Armand observed, gently working the knots out of her shoulders.

“It's not going to,” Lia murmured. “It's supposed to be like this all day.”

“Think the electricity will go out?”

She shook her head. “They've got backup generators. Why? Are you afraid of the dark?” she teased.

“Not exactly,” Armand said with a low chuckle. He could think of far worse fates than being trapped alone in a dark cabin with the sexy, beautiful woman of his dreams. “Are
you
afraid of the dark?”

Lia smiled, her eyes still closed. “That's what candles are for. And I—
Ohh, that feels so good,
” she said on a soft, husky moan of pleasure.

Blood rushed straight to Armand's groin.
Damn,
he thought grimly. Maybe giving Lia a massage wasn't exactly the best way to avoid temptation, as he'd recently vowed to do.

After last night's harrowing dream, followed by the emotional meeting with his family that morning, Armand had decided it was time to revert to what he called “soldier mode.” He'd spent the last two years in this state of mind, so focused on surviving and anticipating his enemy's next move that he learned to ignore the demands of his body for food, sleep, even sex.
Especially
sex. Of course, it was easier not to think about your neglected libido when you were stuck out in the middle of the jungle with a bunch of unwashed roughnecks, as he'd affectionately called his men.

Armand was so preoccupied by his thoughts that he didn't even realize his fingers had stilled on Lia's neck—except for his thumb, which idly stroked her silken skin—until she glanced back curiously at him.

He reluctantly dropped his hand, flashing a small smile. “There. That should do the trick.”

“Mmm, thanks. That was wonderful.” As she unfolded her long legs and rose from the sofa, his gaze was drawn to the way her gray jogging pants molded to the lush roundness of her bottom. As she arched her back, stretching her muscles with a contented purr, he felt another sharp jab of lust to his groin.

“I didn't realize how much tension I was carrying around in my body,” Lia murmured.

I know the feeling,
Armand mused, painfully aware of the straining at his zipper. He thought about Tiffany, who'd repeatedly pressed her voluptuous body against his and whispered things in his ear that would make a porn director blush. Armand had been nowhere near as turned on by her as he was now, watching Lia engage in something as innocent as stretching.

Maybe soldier mode could wait another day or two.

When she bent down to retrieve her laptop, her cotton pants stretched snug across her bottom. It took every ounce of will-power Armand possessed not to get up, grab her around the waist and grind his aching erection against her tight buttocks. He imagined her moaning softly and rolling her hips, slow and sensual, urging him closer—

“Since it appears that we're going to be trapped indoors all day,” Lia said, interrupting his erotic fantasy as she knelt in front of the sofa, “I thought we could play cards or a few board games to help pass the time.”

Or how about I carry you into my bedroom and make love to you long and hard into tomorrow morning?

Lia, who'd brushed against his arm as she removed the sofa cushion beside him, glanced up sharply, as if she'd read his mind. Thank God that was impossible.

“Did you say something?” she asked suspiciously.

Armand schooled his features into a blank mask. “No. I was going to say your suggestion sounds good—the games.” He paused. “What are you looking for?”

“My thumb drive,” she muttered irritably. “It came unplugged from my laptop when you scared me earlier, and now I can't find it. Could you get up for a second so I can check under your cushion?”

Armand complied, then stood watching as she searched the sofa, then checked the floor underneath.

“Aha! Found it.” When she popped up triumphantly, her face was eye-level with his crotch—where, as it turned out, he was still nursing a monster of an erection.

Armand saw the exact moment Lia noticed his predicament. Her eyes widened a fraction, her lips parted soundlessly and a deep flush spread across her cheekbones.

As he stood there, air stalled in his lungs, holding himself so rigid his muscles ached, she lifted her gaze slowly to his face. He was prepared to see embarrassment, censure, even disgust reflected in her expression.

He didn't expect to see desire. Raw, naked desire.

His heart began to bang hard against his rib cage, the rhythm echoing in a hot, heavy pulse between his legs.

“Lia—” His voice was rough, hoarse with arousal.

He should have kept his damn mouth shut.

Her sooty lashes fluttered, and she blinked as if she were emerging from a deep trance. Jerking her eyes away, she got to her feet and quickly stepped away from him.

An all too familiar wave of frustration swept through him.

She cleared her throat briskly. “I, uh, need to go put away my computer. W-we can pick a game to play when I get back.”

As Armand watched her hurry from the room with her computer tucked beneath one arm, he thought,
I've got a suggestion for you, Lia. How about we play hide and seek? You hide, and I'll seek. And when I find you, I get to do whatever I want with you.

When Lia returned to the living room several minutes later, Armand had built a fire, dimmed the lights on the high ceiling beams and draped a thick, knitted afghan across the back of the sofa, where he sat waiting for her. The scene was so cozy and inviting that Lia faltered for a moment, debating whether to proceed or run back to her room to hide out there for the rest of the day. Deciding that she'd done enough running over the past five days to last her a lifetime, she drew a deep, steadying breath and forced herself to continue moving forward.

“It's going to be a little hard to see the board game with the lights turned so low,” she said, striving to make her voice sound as normal as possible. The
last
thing she wanted him to know was that the idea of being alone in a dimly lit room with him struck terror in her heart.

As he watched her walk toward him with a look of lazy masculine appreciation, Lia wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Surely he couldn't find her remotely appealing in her plain white T-shirt and gray sweatpants, with her hair scraped back into its usual ponytail and her face scrubbed clean of makeup. Yet
something
had definitely turned him on earlier. She'd seen the unmistakable proof of his arousal—seen it, and felt an answering hunger deep in the pit of her stomach. In a moment of sheer insanity she'd been tempted, so damn tempted, to reach up and unzip his jeans and take his thick, throbbing erection in her hand. Her mouth had literally watered at the tantalizing image.

“I thought we could watch a movie first,” Magliore said as Lia reached the sofa. “If that's all right with you?”

“A movie? Um, yeah, sure.” She supposed that was safe enough. They could sit next to each other like two strangers in a dark theater; for at least two hours, they wouldn't even have to talk or interact with each other.

“Let me see what kind of selection we have.” She walked over to the pine entertainment center that was built into the brick wall. Beneath the big-screen television set were several rows of shelves containing a wide range of DVD movies, from old classics to current blockbusters in just about every genre—action, animation, drama, suspense, horror, romance, westerns, comedy. There were even a few blaxploitation films, she noted with a soft chuckle.

“What are you in the mood for?” she asked.

Believe me, you don't want to know.

Lia froze, then snapped her head around to stare at Magliore. But instead of looking at her, he was gazing out the window at the falling rain, and he seemed not to have heard her question. Yet Lia could have
sworn
she'd heard his voice in her head, as clear as if he'd spoken the words aloud. The same thing had happened earlier, when she'd suggested playing cards or board games to pass the time. She was almost certain she'd intercepted his thoughts about making love instead.
Long and hard into tomorrow morning.
But that was impossible, Lia decided, giving herself a mental shake to dismiss the notion that she'd heard Magliore's voice in her head. She'd already determined that she couldn't read his mind. Especially not from across the room.

The more plausible explanation was that the thoughts she was hearing were a manifestation of her own feelings and desires.
She
wanted to make love to Magliore long and hard into tomorrow morning, and
she
was the one having a hard time choosing a movie, because what she was in the mood for couldn't be found on any of those shelves.

“Is there anything in particular you'd like to watch?” she tried again.

His gaze returned to her face. “It doesn't really matter to me. I can't remember the last time I even watched a movie—it's been so long. I'm sure whatever you pick will be fine.”

Nodding, Lia turned back to the shelves and scanned the titles again. She automatically rejected movies about war, tyranny, corruption, political strife or civil unrest, not wanting to give him any painful reminders of what was happening in Muwaiti. For that same reason, she also bypassed movies with excessive violence, gore and killing, which pretty much eliminated most of the horror films. She wouldn't have minded watching a classic blaxploitation flick for old time's sake, but she didn't know whether Magliore would appreciate the humor or cultural references. Being black in America was different from being black in a Caribbean province largely governed and inhabited by blacks.