One-Click Buy: September 2010 Harlequin Blaze Page 24

  “I recall a long discourse on my charm no longer being completely inert.”

  “Discourse on—” She jerked back, her eyes clearing of desire. “Hang on, didn’t we agree to keep personal and professional moments separate?”

  “Actually, we didn’t. You requested that personal moments between us be kept private and after hours. I will agree that’s wise. However, since you’re currently wearing a disguise and preparing to interrogate and spy on any number of mostly law-abiding citizens for the next few hours, I figured this could actually be classified as a professional fondling.” He smoothed a strand of blond hair off her cheek. “We do have our roles to play, don’t we?”

  Her eyes sparked with temper. “We’re going to talk about the rules of engagement later, Counselor. Got it?”

  “Should I put down that appointment in my after-hours calendar?”

  “I’ll check the ammunition in my Glock and get back to you.”

  Smiling, Carr opened his door. As he stood, he noticed Jack helping a buxom redhead from his car a few spaces away.

  Let the war games begin.

  5

  “WE’RE SO HAPPY you chose our humble island to visit,” Mayor Harvey Kelso said with a self-important smile belying his words.

  Malina sipped from her champagne glass and tried to infuse enthusiasm into her tone. “It’s such a lovely spot.”

  “Made all the more lovely by your presence.”

  Malina drank more champagne.

  At this rate, she was going to be either pissed and drunk or drunk and fired when she strangled the idiotic, golf-obsessed mayor of this crappy little island she’d landed on.

  “We strive to cater to both young professionals as well as families here on Palmer’s Island,” the mayor continued. “We’re also working to attract a premier golf tournament. Unfortunately, our single course is only nine holes, so the PGA won’t take us seriously. We’re landlocked, and the historical society refuses to budge on their properties. Do they expect us to build greens in the Atlantic?” Shaking his head at this injustice, he smiled nevertheless. “I’m sure the tourism council would love to hear about your vacation priorities.”

  At least he wasn’t hitting on her. Since she knew the mayor had been married for more than a decade and had four kids, she could find some comfort in the realization that he was only interested in her disposable vacation income, not her cleavage.

  Still, finding out the mayor was an egomaniac but not a cheat was hardly her priority for this particular operation.

  Her partner had abandoned her twenty minutes ago—leaving her safely in the mayor’s company as he went off in search of Jack and the yacht’s owner—the actual suspects in this little drama, the ones she was supposed to be observing. In return, she was beginning to wonder about the suicide rate of intelligent blondes with big boobs.

  “Harvey, don’t upset the new people,” a smooth, unfamiliar male voice interjected. “It disturbs the tax base.”

  Malina looked over her shoulder to see a dark-haired man and a blonde woman. They were a beautiful couple—lovely features, lightly tanned skin, dressed beach casual and connected by more than just their entwined hands.

  “Not to mention the greens fees,” the mayor said, lifting his whiskey glass to the newcomers. “Have you met Sandy?”

  The man extended his hand. “No, but Carr told us he’d found a gem.” Shaking Malina’s hand, his silver eyes gleamed. “I’m Aidan Kendrick. My wife, Sloan.” He urged the woman at his side into the circle.

  Sloan gave Malina a brief greeting, then a discreet sweep from head to toe, her gaze alert and curious.

  “Nice to meet you both,” Malina said, realizing these were the friends Hamilton had mentioned and that he’d most likely told them her true identity. She wasn’t sure, however, how wise that decision was. Generally, the fewer people involved in an undercover op, the better.

  Especially untrained civilians.

  Dear heaven, the future of her career might hang in the balance of a nosy lawyer, a semiretired businessman, the former sheriff’s daughter, who was a librarian and president of the historical society, and the general effectiveness of a push-up bra.

  Before she could contemplate how she’d allowed herself to fall into that professional pitfall, the mayor spoke. “Aidan, have you given any more thought to investing in those old properties on the north end of the island? We could really use another nine holes. We should be able to compete with Kiawah.”

  “We’re not a resort community,” Sloan said, shifting her attention to the mayor and narrowing her eyes in the process. “We have plenty of those around. And we’re not interested in tearing down a seventeenth-century church to make way for a damn putting green.”

  Harvey lost his ingratiating politician’s smile in the space of a heartbeat. “You and the historical society are always looking for a way to attract more tourists. I just don’t see why we can’t do that with the golfers, too. They spend plenty of money in our shops and restaurants.”

  “And we’re grateful,” Sloan returned. “But we’re not destroying the history and natural beauty of this island for ready cash.”

  The same debate had played out for decades on Malina’s home island of Kauai. They needed tourists for economic survival, and, actually, most locals liked sharing the pride and beauty of their home. But there was the danger of going too far. Of strip malls, T-shirt shops and theme restaurants overwhelming the environment to the point of destruction.

  “Regardless,” Aidan said, “I was outbid on the northern properties.”

  Sloan scowled. “And, trust me, I’m not happy about that either.”

  Surprise, then speculation crossed the mayor’s face. “Really? By who?”

  “Our host,” Aidan said.

  Malina jerked her attention from Aidan’s handsome features back to her job. “Why do you think he was so determined to get the properties?”

  The mayor glanced at her. “You’re interested in real estate, Sandy? I thought Carr said you were a model.”

  Malina clenched her teeth. Of course he did. Was her career worth this? “I won’t always be twenty-three and perfect.” Following this self-aggrandized announcement, she giggled.

  Sloan pressed her lips together as if suppressing a smirk.

  Aidan nodded sagely. “Sadly, Harvey, it’s true. Diversification is essential to any portfolio.”

  It was no wonder Hamilton and this guy were friends. Both were slick as the ice this island might see every millennium or so.

  Before Malina could probe Aidan Kendrick further about the properties, a tall, silver-haired man in an expensive-looking navy suit approached their group. Their host, Simon Ellerby, as Malina knew from the pictures she’d found during her research. “Beautiful women who laugh are always welcome at my parties,” he said, his gaze locked on Malina’s. “Do you mind if I join you?”

  He had an exotic accent that was faintly, but vaguely, European. He was tan and handsome—which seemed to be a common trait with nearly everyone on the island—and wore a diamond pinky ring on his left hand.

  As Aidan introduced him to Malina—or, more accurately, to Sandy—she watched him for any false notes in the wealthy boat captain persona. She found none. Yet the perfection itself was a fault. He seemed to be playing a part, like an actor in a play.

  The FBI had suspiciously little information on the man, who claimed to be nearly fifty, and Malina sensed she wouldn’t have much more luck this afternoon.

  “I was telling everyone about the properties you bought on the north end of the island,” Aidan said. “Do you have any firm plans for them?”

  “Renovation probably,” Ellerby said. “The smaller houses could be sold as is or divided into rental duplexes, and the big house could be a B and B, or maybe apartments.”

  The mayor frowned. “How do you feel about golf?”

  “The big house was built in 1867,” Sloan said after a swift glare in the mayor’s direction. “It would be nice t
o keep the original structure intact.”

  Ellerby angled his head. “Was it really? My lawyer handled the transaction, so I haven’t seen many of the details.”

  Malina widened her eyes and tried to look both confused and impressed. “You bought a house you haven’t even seen?”

  Ellerby laughed indulgently. “I do that quite often.” He swept his hand around to indicate the deck where they were standing. “I bought Le Bijou here sight unseen on the recommendation of a colleague. A mere whim.”

  “What does Le Bee—” Malina broke off, her face flushing. “Is that French for something?”

  “It is indeed.” His eyes gleamed, hard as the translation she knew he was about to reveal. “The Jewel.”

  “An expensive whim, Simon,” Sloan said. “The historical society would love to have your support at our next fundraiser.”

  “Of course, of course,” Ellerby said lightly. “With such a lovely invitation, and from the president herself, how could I resist?”

  “Be careful what you promise,” Hamilton said as he approached. “Sloan is a shark when it comes to the society.” He slid his arm around Malina’s waist, and she immediately felt the spark of desire that always accompanied his presence.

  It was distracting and, for a moment, she simply absorbed his elegance, the enticing scent that clung to his skin and clothes.

  “Hey, all,” Jack Rafton said as he and his redhead date walked up, bringing Malina’s thoughts back to her job. He toasted the host with a crystal tumbler. “Great party.”

  Ellerby nodded graciously. “Thank you. Carr tells me you’re in insurance.”

  “I am. Auto, home, life—the whole deal.” He smiled with the winning charm of a practiced salesperson. “I handle most of the boats in the area, too.”

  “I’ve seen you around the marina a few times. I assume you keep close tabs on your clients.”

  “Naturally. I also have my own Sea Ray in slip twenty-three.”

  Without seeming to, Malina watched their exchange closely. While Simon Ellerby seemed relaxed, she observed Rafton taking frequent sips from his drink. His gaze skipped from the group around him, to the deck beneath his feet, then the clouds in the distance.

  Carr, she noticed, was left to listen to Rafton’s date ramble on about the lack of decent nightclubs on Palmer’s Island. Poor man.

  The conversation moved on around her, and she prodded with questions from time to time that she hoped would help her get a measure of their suspects. But she was constantly aware of her partner, her witness, her would-be lover…whatever he was besides gorgeous, tempting…irresistible.

  Part of her couldn’t believe she was distracted during an op, and part of her was fascinated that a romantic interest could bring about such a change.

  Her career was her life. No one and nothing had ever swayed her from that path.

  Why now? Why Hamilton? She had no idea.

  With her own motives and actions so cloudy, she decided to pursue someone else’s. Wasn’t it wiser, easier, to focus on others and not look too deeply inside herself? “Why The Jewel?” she asked Ellerby.

  He smiled, though no genuine emotion reached his cold gray eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? I love being surrounded by beautiful things.”

  LATER, as the sun set, casting a torrid mix of orange and red light across the sky and churning sea, Carr found himself alone with Malina at the yacht’s aft. The propeller churned the water into mountains of white foam.

  It was a night for gazing at the moon, long kisses and breathy sighs.

  Somehow, though, he didn’t think the woman beside him—even in disguise—was planning that sort of evening.

  “Sandy?” she asked, her tone clearly annoyed.

  “Well,” he began, leaning against the railing and relishing the illumination of her profile in the fading light of the sun, “the name had to fit with your character. Blonde, somewhat ditzy bikini model…Sandy seemed to fit.” He angled his head. “The stereotype might annoy astronauts, doctors and nuclear physicists named Sandy, but remember I was under a considerable time constraint.”

  “I’m sorry I asked,” Malina muttered.

  “You played your part well.”

  “It was physically painful. Is every curvy blonde on the planet subjected to people who talk to them as if they’re five years old?”

  “I wouldn’t know. What did you think of Ellerby?”

  “Smooth.” She glanced at him. “Not as smooth as you or your buddy Aidan Kendrick, of course, but good enough.” Her eyes fired, throwing off the veil of her disguise despite her tight dress and golden hair. “And whim, my ass. He bought this boat for a reason. He does nothing without considering every angle, every possibility very, very carefully.”

  “I agree.”

  “And he and Rafton are more than fellow boaters who’ve passed each other on the dock a few times, the way they both claim.”

  “Yes, they are.”

  “That redhead Rafton brought is a complete idiot.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “You’re awfully agreeable tonight.”

  He stepped closer, sliding his arms around her waist. “You’re incredibly beautiful.”

  Her gaze flicked to his and held. “Is this part of the op? Or are we after hours now?”

  “I think we’ve worked hard enough for today.”

  “To serve and protect isn’t a normal job.”

  Coming from anybody else, that sentiment would be corny. But beneath that fierce stare and drive to claw her way up the government ladder of success, Carr knew Malina Blair cared. Certainly about the citizens around her and maybe even about him.

  “Serve me,” he whispered, pressing his lips against the side of her neck. “And I’ll serve you.” He could feel her heartbeat accelerate as he moved his hands down her backside, pulling her tight against his body.

  “Somebody has to keep their head and do the protecting,” she said, though she looped her hands around his neck and pressed her cheek alongside his.

  “You can do that again tomorrow.” The floral scent of her perfume invaded him as naturally as the sun set on the horizon. His head was swimming and his body aching, and yet he knew he had to tread carefully. Seducing her was like handling unexploded ammunition. Pressing the wrong button could cause them both to implode.

  “For now, I’ll find somewhere safe and isolated,” he said.

  She leaned back. “Your boat?”

  His heart thumped hard once, then again. He nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

  “HAMILTON…”

  “Right here,” Carr said, pausing to give Malina another long kiss as he spun them through the cabin door of his boat. “At your service.”

  “I’m really not supposed to be doing this,” she muttered against his lips, even as she unfastened his belt.

  “I won’t tell.” He grabbed the hem of her dress, tugging it up until it hung around her hips. He slid his palms across her lace-covered butt and closed his eyes as pleasure shot through his body. “I’m very good at keeping secrets.”

  “I’m not sure I trust you.”

  Even with her breath hot on his throat, he winced. “The attorney-client relationship is sacred.”

  “I’m not a client,” she returned as she threaded her fingers through his hair, and they moved down the narrow hallway to the bedroom.

  “But I’ve entered into a professional—” he paused to angle her face upward for his kiss “—agreement with you and the FBI to…” He sat on the bed, pulling her between his thighs, closing his eyes as she leaned over him. “To solve this case for the betterment of everyone on Palmer’s Island and—”

  Her fingers wrapped around his erection and, for once, he lost the power of speech.

  With her free hand, she tossed away the blond wig, then ran her fingers through her long, dark hair, scattering pins across the room.

  The gesture felt like a sign, the moment of capitulation he’d been waiting for, as if he wasn’t sure she’d tr
uly be his beneath the masquerade and restrictions of her job. Her eyes were dark, dark blue and her pupils dilated as she stared at him, clearly enjoying the power she held and yet needy for whatever he desired at the same time.

  He caught the edge of her dress and yanked it up and off her body, then let it drop beside them. A leather strap held a knife sheath to her thigh, making her look like some kind of ancient warrior princess.

  He unhooked it himself, his fingers caressing her warm, golden skin before he let that, too, fall to the floor.

  She was naked now, except for her lacy panties, and he cupped her breasts like a treasure, gliding his tongue across each distended nipple.

  When she moaned softly, exhilaration coursed through him.

  Her body was as trimly muscular and amazing as he’d imagined, but more than the physical, he could feel her hunger, her need for fulfillment. Her longing to share both with him and only him. He hoped he wasn’t imagining the extra charge through the air, the instinctual chemistry that told him this wasn’t casual stress relief or convenient proximity.

  Part of him—the part he’d fought to suppress the past several years—reminded him that motivations didn’t matter. His need to make reparation for past deeds was being satisfied in many ways, and, after all, desire was desire.

  But he’d also learned solitude held no interest.

  “You think you could call me by my first name?” he asked as he lay back on the bed, pulling her next to him.

  “Maybe…” She flipped open one of his shirt’s buttons. He slid his index finger between her legs, beyond the elastic of her panties. “Eventually…” she whispered as her eyes fluttered shut.

  While his finger stroked the wet heat between her legs, she squeezed his erection, and he, too, closed his eyes, fighting for control.

  The moment she gasped and her thighs clenched, he found a smile. He increased the pressure of his strokes on her sensitive flesh.

  Her breathing hitched; her hips rocked.