The Spy Who Loves Me (8 page)

“But we've got a lead with this mysterious Poindexter, so hopefully I'll know more later.”

“What about Bernie? Has Schnell authorized you to interview him? See what's up with him and Diana?” Amber had put in a request days ago, but Schnell thought that making the contact would be tipping their hand. Brandon didn't agree, but what could you do?

“Negative,” he said. “I put in a call, but still no authority.”

“Shit.”

“Well, if we're lucky, you'll find out something from Finn. He's been watching Diana, too. He may already have this figured out.”

“Maybe,” she said, dubious. “Either way, we wait and we watch.”

“At least you'll be occupied during the wait.” He chuckled. “Are you really having steak? Or is that a euphemism I haven't heard before.”

“Ah, ah,” she said with a laugh. “Don't you know a lady never tells?”

 

“Never tells what?”

Finn's voice.

Amber closed her eyes. Took one deep breath to help her drown out the sound of Brandon's laughter in her ear, and then turned around. “Never tells a gorgeous man what's on her mind,” she said. “It destroys the mystery.”

His warm grin was wide and genuine, and for the first time in her life, she felt a little guilty for playing a part. She told herself that was stupid—after all, for all she knew, he was playing a part, too. But none of that changed the fact that this was a man who—for whatever reason—got under her skin.

Dangerous.

“I guess that would be a problem,” he said. “If there were any gorgeous men around. And if you had any secrets…”

“Oh, I've got secrets,” she said. One true statement in a day that promised to be chock full of lies.

“Really?” He moved closer, and she caught the scent of mint mixed with soap. He seemed to loom over her, and Amber wasn't short. His dossier had said six foot three, but he seemed larger. All sinew and muscle and pent-up power. Truly, the man was spectacular. With narrow hips and broad shoulders, and a torso that screamed to have a woman's fingers caress those washboard abs.

“Come on,” he teased. “You can tell me.”

“I'm not sure that I can,” she said. “You fall into that gorgeous category I mentioned earlier.”

“Good going, girl,” Brandon said, ribbing her. “Don't ever tell me you don't know how to flirt.”

Amber felt her cheeks warm, an odd sensation considering she rarely blushed. She'd played this game dozens of times with Brandon listening in. So why did she suddenly find herself craving privacy?

“I'm flattered,” Finn said. He leaned against the shelving, the motion bringing him infinitesimally closer, and her pulse began to race. “But I think that's just an excuse not to tell me those secrets,” he said.

“Aw, shit,” Brandon said.

“What?” Amber answered aloud, then mentally kicked herself.

“What?” Finn repeated. “Your secrets. Remember? You said you had plenty.”

“Oh,” Amber said. “Right.”

“She's heading back into the canyons,” Brandon said. “I'm going to lose you. Listen quick. Diana's on to Finn. And Drake's pissed.”

Amber drew in a breath, the world seeming to shift slightly under her feet, and this time not because of the proximity of the man in front of her. She still needed to investigate Finn, needed to figure out his game. That much hadn't changed.

Now, though, she also needed to protect him.

So much for her plan to be done with the man by morning. Apparently, she was going to be sticking to him like glue. His own private, very personal, bodyguard.

Not an unwelcome proposition, really. She took a long look at him and stifled a sigh. There was just something about a man with a strong jaw and broad shoulders….

With a scowl, she shook her head, trying to dissolve the fantasy. She didn't usually react so strongly to men, and it unnerved her. She needed to stay focused.

He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Lost in thought? Or avoiding my question?”

“You want my secrets?” she murmured, pulling herself back into her role. “I can do that.”

After all, there was no better time than the present to start her get-close plan with gusto. And so in one quick motion, she lifted herself onto her toes and swung her arms around his neck.

His mouth opened as if in surprise, but before any sound escaped, she pressed her lips against his. If she'd caught him off guard, he covered well. His mouth was hot and firm beneath hers, and his tongue demanded entrance, as if this kiss had been his idea all along.

She opened her mouth in response, her body trembling as she explored his deep, delicious mouth. He tasted of want and need, of infinite possibilities and untamed passion. Part of her wanted to simply give in, to meld against him and let him take the kiss where he would. But this was her kiss, she'd begun it, and she wasn't about to lose control.

She pulled back, her teeth grazing his lower lips, before she moved in, insistent, her hands pressed to the side of his face as she held him in place, his head tilted at just the right angle. He foiled her, though, cupping her butt as she moved and urging her closer until she was pressed hard against him. Amber heard a low moan of satisfaction and realized it was coming from her.

Slightly dazed, she broke off, holding on to the beer case for balance. She took a deep breath, gathering control and focusing on her plan. Her body hummed with passion that wasn't fading despite the few inches of air she'd placed between them.

Her reaction to this man had startled her, and she needed to regain the upper hand. She tilted her chin up just slightly, her eyes meeting his even as she let a slow, sultry smile ease across her face. “My secret, Mr. Phineus Teague, is that I followed you to Pasadena.” She cocked her head, hoping she looked both sexy and beguiling. “I guess you could say I've got a little bit of a crush on you.”

She'd expected him to register some surprise, but he didn't. Instead he just took a half step backward and regarded her with curiosity mixed with something else. Interest? Passion? She wasn't certain, and he was giving her no clues.

He said nothing, and his silence unnerved her. The man was too cool.

“I see you're speechless,” she said, widening her eyes for maximum effect. “Was I too bold?”

Two seconds ticked by, the weight of the time almost unbearable. But then a lazy grin crossed his face and his eyes flashed, dark and dangerous. “Hell no,” he said.

That
was an answer she'd expected. He was, after all, a guy.

He moved toward her then, every male inch of him, until he was looking down at her from his five-inch vantage point. He hooked a finger under her chin, and she trembled slightly, annoyed with herself for allowing the unbidden reaction.

“Actually,” he said, “I think you're just what the doctor ordered.”

She wanted to ask what he meant, but he tilted her face up, his lips closing over hers before she could voice the question.

His response to her initial kiss might have been enthusiastic, but in comparison to
this
kiss, it had been a peck. This was more than just a kiss. Finn was making love to her with his mouth. His tongue dipped and teased, exploring and tasting. Demanding, and yet giving. Sensual, and yet flirtatious.

Her knees weakened, and she sagged a bit, but there was nowhere to go. Finn held her tight against him, the undeniable evidence of his interest pressed insistently against her thigh. Her body warmed, her veins filling with a liquid heat that seemed to pool between her legs, instigating a persistent throbbing that she itched to satisfy.

The man worked on her like a chemical reaction. Apart, she could remain inert, pretending he didn't affect her. But once they touched, she sizzled and sparked and there was no going back.

In her line of work, that was a dangerous reaction to have to a man. Especially a man she needed to bed.

Where Finn was concerned, Amber was going to have to be very, very careful.

He pulled away, his lips brushing her cheek. “Your kiss opened a door, babe. And I'll tell you just once, because I'm a gentleman—if you want to close that door, do it fast and do it now. Otherwise, we're going all the way inside.”

She met his gaze. “The door stays open,” she said. That was her mission, after all. And all she could do was hope that when they walked over the threshold, she'd be able to handle whatever lay on the far side of Finn's door.

F
inn's body tightened, the press of Amber's curves against him intoxicating. He barely knew this woman. Knew only, in fact, that in the space of twenty-four hours she'd done a complete one-eighty in looks and personality. Whereas yesterday she'd seemed quiet and shy, today she was aggressive and flirty. Yesterday she'd practically cleaved to her wardrobe of T-shirts and sweatpants, but today, she looked like she'd be perfectly comfortable in the middle of a fashion shoot for
Vogue.

He had no idea what had brought about the change, but he did know that he was at the center of it—that she was deliberately trying to catch his attention.

And caught it she had. So much so that his whole body was standing at attention.

In a thoroughly dull week where most of his excitement had been manufactured in his head, this was about the most interesting thing that had happened to him.

Right now, he intended to just go with the flow. He could worry about her motivations later.

Now he moved them backward, until her shoulders were pressed against the chilled cartons of beer in the open refrigerated case. She shivered slightly in his arms, pulling herself closer.

“Cold?” he asked.

“Hot,” she said. “Very, very hot.”

Footsteps sounded behind them, pausing slightly, and then Finn heard someone subtly clearing his throat. He had to smile; the last time he'd been caught in such a compromising position he'd been under the bleachers with Melissa Jane Hutchinson during halftime.

Drawing on every ounce of strength in his body, he managed to pull away, to put enough space between them for, as his grandma used to say, his guardian angel.

Amber's faint murmur of protest suggested that she wasn't too thrilled he'd invited the angel to the party. She pressed closer, brushing her lips against his. “No fair,” she said. “Don't stop.”

“Got to,” he said. “People are starting to stare.”

“I don't care,” she said. She pulled back, her head tilted just enough to look him in the eyes. “Do you?” He saw amusement there, and a touch of defiance. And for an instant, Finn was absolutely positive that the woman would have no qualms about dropping down to the vinyl-tiled floor and making love next to the Chilean reds.

There was definitely more to Amber Robinson than he'd seen before. And he intended to explore every single facet.

“If we keep this up, people will think we're advertising one of the wines. And then the vintner will come in and sign us for some big ad campaign. Suddenly we'll be on the road all the time, personal appearances, talk shows.” He shook his head. “Too much, too soon. The stress. We couldn't handle it. And our relationship would crumble before it even got started.”

He kept his eyes on her face, wondering if he'd just scared her off with his ramblings. If the twitch at the corner of her mouth was any indication, though, she was amused, not scared.

She licked her lips, the simple gesture desperately erotic under the circumstances. “Relationship, huh?” She cocked an eyebrow. “Is that what we have?”

He laughed. “Babe, a day ago you were my slightly shy, very reclusive neighbor. Today you're seducing me under fluorescent lights. Honestly, I don't know what's between us.”

“Sex,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

He couldn't argue with that, but her bold, straightforward announcement surprised him. “Oh?”

“Absolutely. Pheromones, chemistry.
Sex.”
She flashed a decadent smile. “We've got sex, Finn,” she repeated, as if to clarify. “Or I hope we do.” She trailed a finger down the front of his shirt. “If we end up in a relationship, great. But I thought we'd start with the sex and then go from there.” She tilted her head slightly to the side, her eyes wide. “Assuming that's okay with you…”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “That's perfectly all right with me.”

Hardly the typical first date, but he was fast learning that Amber wasn't the typical girl. Which was also perfectly okay with Finn. “So how do you feel about ditching?” he asked, his head bent close to her ear.

From her smile, Finn could tell that Amber knew exactly what he meant. “I'm willing to play hooky if you are.” She cocked her head. “They won't mind?”

“Are you kidding? Millie would probably give me a stipend for the afternoon if I told her I was spending it with you.”

“David and Jacey?”

“Nah, they're saving money for the baby. We won't get any cash from them.”

Amber laughed. “I meant, will they care?”

“Not so long as we deliver the steaks first. You game?”

“I don't know,” she said, the grin tugging at her mouth suggesting a different answer. “What do you have in mind?”

 

Something wild.
What Finn had in mind was something wild and wicked and completely satisfying. Something that would make him forget his job and the projects scattered over his kitchen table. Something that would take him away.

He'd found that something in Amber, and now he wanted to make the moment perfect. For him, but especially for her. A mixture of sex and beauty and warmth and passion. And he knew just the place.

Fortunately, traffic was light, so it only took an hour for them to get to Corona del Mar. Finn had discovered the vacant lot with the cliff-side spiral staircase leading down to the sea on one of his diving trips to Laguna Beach, and he hoped that the property hadn't been sold or gated or otherwise closed off.

“Are we lost?” she asked from the passenger seat.

Finn shook his head. “Not yet.”

She looked at him as if she didn't quite believe him. “Well, will you at least tell me where we're going?”

“Sorry, babe. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. I guess you'll just have to wait and see.”

“Hmmm.” She leaned back in the bucket seat, her hand resting on his thigh. “A man who takes control. I like that.”

He turned, genuinely surprised. “Funny, you struck me as a woman who preferred to take charge.”

“Really? Why's that?”

She seemed so earnest that he couldn't help but laugh. “The way you came on to me in the grocery store leaps to mind.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “I'll concede the point. I do like being in charge.” She lifted her hands up, her fingertips brushing the cloth roof as she arched her back, her sweater stretching tight against her breasts. “But sometimes it's nice to let go and let someone else drive.” She turned and flashed him a smile, innocent with just a hint of mischief. “So long as he steers in my direction.”

“Believe me, sweetheart,” Finn said, finding the street he was looking for and turning onto it. “We've got the same destination in mind.”

“Then why should I do anything but sit back and enjoy the ride?”

Her voice, low and sultry, seemed to wash over Finn, finally settling in his cock. Only with supreme effort did he keep the car on the road, overcoming the urge to simply stop right there and go at it like teenagers. Instead, he managed to maneuver the car into the cul-de-sac and steer it into the middle of the vacant lot overlooking the beach.

He put the car in park, killed the engine, and turned to her. The intensity of his desire was curious, though not at all unwelcome. He might be in charge at the moment, but she'd definitely set the wheels in motion, and the fact that she'd pursued him so single-mindedly was an undeniable turn-on.

But it was the
why
that perplexed him. Women had come on to him before, and he couldn't remember one instance where he'd turned a willing female down. But while he'd wanted those women, and while he'd enjoyed exploring their curves and sharing their beds, the hunger he felt for
this
woman was like nothing he'd ever felt before.

He knew that part of her allure had to stem from the inherent mystery—why had she suddenly turned her sights, and her sex appeal, on him? But knowing didn't lessen the lust one bit. He wanted her. Pure and simple. And Finn didn't intend to deny himself. Or her.

He reached out, his palm cupping the back of her neck as he turned his head. His lips met hers, his mouth swallowing up her little sigh of surprise. His tongue danced in her mouth, taking as much as he gave. His fingers twined in her hair, tilting her head to just the right angle.

She went limp in his arms, and he wondered if that was a gift. This woman who had called the shots—who craved control—giving him free rein to explore every inch of her body.

With his other hand, he cupped her breast, her nipple already tight and hard under her sweater and the thin material of her bra. Her breathing was fast and shallow, and her chest rose and fell. He massaged her breast, kneading her soft curves, then dipping his head to suckle her even through the thin, striped sweater.

She made a sound, something between an “oh” and a cry, and she raked her fingers through his hair, pulling him in tighter against her. Finn moaned, rock hard and ready.

He wanted her. More than he could remember wanting any woman. He wanted her fast and furious, and then slow and easy. All night, all day, all week.

“I'm not liking these bucket seats right now,” he said.

“I can take care of that,” Amber said, her voice a low murmur. “Slide your seat all the way back.”

He complied without question, and she climbed over the gear shift to straddle him, her back to the steering wheel, her fingers threaded through his hair. Her mouth closed over his, her hand inching down to stroke his erection.

“Amber,” he said, the word little more than a groan. “You're killing me.”

“I should stop,” she said. “You're no good to me dead.”

“Don't you dare,” he said. He cupped her ass in both hands, then slid his hand up to stroke her soft, warm back. With his other hand, he slipped her shirt up, exposing a flimsy lace bra. She arched her back, moaning as he closed his mouth over her hard nipple and the puckered, rosy areola.

He wasn't worried they'd be seen in the afternoon light. The cul-de-sac wasn't inhabited; just four large lots waiting for buyers to build fabulous houses with views. But even if they'd been in the middle of a downtown street, Finn doubted he would have cared, and he certainly couldn't have stopped.

He trailed his other hand down her back, then slid his fingertips under the waistband of her pants. A breathy moan escaped her lips, and her single word—
yes
—worked on him more than any aphrodisiac.

His hand crept lower, under the silk of her panties, cupping the smooth, warm skin of her rear. He was on a mission, one he wouldn't fail, to find the ultimate prize. And she helped him along the way, lifting up to give him better access, even as her fingers expertly worked at the buttons on his fly.

Her fingers slipped inside, stroking him through the thin cotton of his boxers. “Do you like that?” she whispered.

He struggled to breathe, his entire body stiffening under her touch. “Hell yes,” he managed. She was working magic on his body, but for at least this moment, Finn intended to take control and keep it. In one bold movement, he found her core and slipped two fingers into her wet velvet heat.

Her cry of pleasure centered on his groin, and her muscles clenched around him. She hadn't reached the pinnacle yet, but he intended to take her there.

With his free hand, he covered hers, stilling her expert ministrations on his cock. She whimpered a noise of protest, but he held fast. “Uh-uh, sweetheart. This is about you.”

She opened her mouth again, but he took her in a kiss. Even as he did, he pulled his fingers out, delighted with the way her hips gyrated, silently begging him not to stop.

Her mouth was open to his, her hand now clutching his shirt front, twisting the material even as she writhed against him. He didn't intend to torment her—not for too long—and he slipped his fingers back inside, keeping his forefinger free to tease and stroke her clit.

She broke their kiss, a cry of “oh, yes,” ripping from her throat as she arched her back. Her hips undulated as she pressed down on his hand, drawing him in deeper and harder as if she wanted to take all of him.

Finn smiled, knowing that, for the moment at least, Amber truly had lost control. And she'd lost it to him.

 

Amber couldn't think. Hell, she could barely breathe. Her entire body was lost to the sweet, decadent sensations that Finn was sending spinning through her.

His fingers were igniting a fire in her body, and it was burning wild. The sensations took hold, wresting control from her, so that all that mattered was his touch and the slow build to an inevitable explosion that she craved even as much as she wanted the climb to never, ever stop.

The pad of his finger stroked her clit, and she rolled her hips, helping and honing the sensations. With her hands she clutched her own breasts, the tight pressure on her nipples a delicious counterpoint to the heat building between her thighs.