Kitabı oku: «Carnal Innocence», sayfa 2
Her gaze traveled down to the table, beyond the trash and burrito remains, beyond the telephone, and lighted on the folded sheaf of flowery notepaper propped up next to a stamped business envelope that contained their rent check. Unmailed. Caitlin jabbed her fingers into the blond hair at her temples and lifted the chin-length tendrils into fluffy disarray. Typical.
A muscle-tensing sense of impending crisis zipped from the roots of Caitlin’s kinky hair all the way down to her size-nine feet. “Definitely the worst of times.”
Cassie Kramer had the truest heart in the world, but her impulsive approach to life had left Caitlin in the mop-up and rescue position more than once during the course of their friendship. It looked as if today would be no different. She picked up Cassie’s note.
Her roommate’s handwriting was as flowery as the colorful daisies on the paper, and had been punctuated by a series of smiley faces. “Sorry about the rent check.” A frowny face added its own apology. Caitlin picked up the envelope she’d addressed before going to her father’s. Dropping their rent into the mailbox had been a simple enough request—one her scatterbrained roommate had somehow overlooked. But Caitlin would take care of it. With the leeway granted by their landlord, she could still get it to him by the fifth of the month.
Caitlin read on.
“I know the place is a mess, too. But I got tied up, so to speak.” Smiley face. “Tim and I discovered that panty hose will do the trick.” Another smiley face and two exclamation points.
Caitlin looked up and frowned. “Who’s Tim?” Despite her roomie’s diminutive height, she was generously proportioned and had a flirty, outgoing personality that men found irresistible. She was small and feminine and spontaneous, and men with sex and fun and adventure on their minds flocked to her.
Caitlin attracted a different sort. Standing nearly six feet tall in her bare feet, she found that a decent pair of heels left her towering over most men. Adding in the three bad-ass marines she called family, who loved her a little too well, didn’t help set the mood for potential lovers.
And then there was the problem of being boring to contend with.
Virginia Is for Lovers.
Her home state’s old tourism slogan mocked her. Maybe if she was Cassie Kramer…
Cassie could hang out until closing time at smoky bars on dance night and have her pick of the litter of available men. Caitlin could last an hour, maybe two, before her eyes stung and her lungs congested. There was nothing quite like hacking up phlegm to keep a man from asking her to dance.
Or to do anything else.
She was doomed to late nights at the library, with its purified air and rarefied patrons. While she loved her books, the fiction stacks just didn’t draw the kind of men Caitlin wanted to meet. There’d been a few nice ones there—graduate students, retirees, Jimmy the bachelor librarian.
But not one of them looked the part of the disreputable beast from her favorite fairy tale. Not one bore an air that even hinted at danger. They were all charming and sweet and courteous—and stuck in the same drudgery-filled life that Caitlin was.
Lucky Cassie. Damn lucky.
Caitlin read on. Cassie’s note might well be the most interesting part of her evening.
“Will you be a dear and give my note to Sean?”
She shook her head, wishing she could keep up with her roomie’s love life. “Who’s Sean?”
“He’s coming by tonight to pick me up—he called about some sort of weekend get-together. I thought I could go, but I can’t. I tried to call back but couldn’t reach him. It was sort of a mercy date, anyway. He’s a friend of a friend, you know?”
Caitlin chastised the piece of paper in lieu of her impulsive friend. “You could have just said no.”
“I’d apologize in person, but Tim came by unannounced and surprised me with a four-day trip to D.C. We might actually leave the hotel and see some of the sights!” Three smiley faces. One of them winked.
“You’ll take care of it, won’t you? Thanks. See you Monday. Cassie.”
At the last smiley face, Caitlin’s frown deepened. “You get a weekend of adventure in the big city and I get to be the Wicked Witch of the West to your mercy date?”
She picked up the Dear John note, hoping Cassie’s explanation would make everything clear to the hapless Sean, who thought he had a date tonight. Minus the smiley faces, this note was even more brief.
Sean—
Sorry to leave you in the lurch like this, but something came up.
Take care,
Cassie
“That helps a lot.” Caitlin’s sarcasm echoed in the foyer.
Cleaning house and breaking the bad news to mercy dates. Just the way she wanted to spend her Thursday night. She could feel the excitement oozing from her pores.
Resigning herself to her lackluster fate, she set the notes on the table, carried the plate to the kitchen, then went into her room to change into grubby clothes. With nothing more exciting than housework and paying the rent to look forward to, she entertained herself by making a big production of getting dressed.
Stripped to her bra and panties, she opened her closet and curtsied to the long dress hanging on the door. “Yes, my lord. I’ll go with you.” She pulled a hand-me-down T-shirt off a hanger and waved at the rest of the clothes. “Goodbye, Papa. I will go with this vile beast if it means keeping you and my family safe.” She pulled on the shirt and bowed her head to the long dress. “Lead on, Sir Beast.”
Caitlin waltzed to the bed. “Oh, no, sir, you mustn’t.”
She muttered the patronizing protest, then threw herself, spread-eagled, onto the bed. “My reputation, sir. I can never be yours. Well, maybe this once.” In a fit of coy giggles she rolled onto her side, reaching for the full-length body pillow she slept with. She hugged it tight against her breasts and squeezed it between her thighs.
As she closed her eyes and kissed the back of her hand, the beast who was her captor took shape in her mind. A big, tawny, catlike creature. Something more than a man, something less than handsome. Virile and uncivilized, rough and rugged—the veneer of his princely rank stripped away to reveal his animalistic need. His hands and mouth would touch, kiss and stroke her into surrender.
Caitlin rolled atop the pillow, increasing the pressure to the sensitive endings of her breasts and clitoris. She arched her back above her faceless captor and stroked her fingers along her neck, purring in response to the pretend touch of her beastly lover. She clutched at his imaginary mane of golden hair and ground her hips into the pillow. A tingling sensation fluttered between her legs and she reached for the culmination of this fantasy seduction.
He was so big. So dangerous. So bad.
And he was hers.
“Take me,” she begged, rolling onto her back and letting the pillow fall over her—the way her fantasy lover would fall down and consume her.
Caitlin tightened her thigh muscles and stretched her toes, urging her own release. Almost…just about…
The headboard rattled with the force of her kick. “Ow!”
An assortment of other choice words filled the air as the fantasy vanished and the throbbing pain in her little toe took over. Caitlin tossed aside the pillow and sat up to rub her foot.
“Perfect timing,” she moaned, feeling cheated of her happy ending.
The pain in her toe eased along with the desire for her fantasy lover. Someday, she wanted the real thing. She wanted to know what it would be like to come when a man touched her. Her sexual encounters thus far had been remarkably limited, and had never quite lived up to her fantasies.
Maybe because she’d never run across one of those bad boys she craved.
Maybe because her father and brothers scared off anyone truly interesting.
Maybe because… “Oh, hell.”
Housework was starting to look downright interesting compared to that line of thinking. Trained to do her duty, she got up and remade the bed, then finished dressing.
An hour later, the dishes were in the dishwasher, clothes were spinning in the washing machine and Caitlin was vacuuming the crumbs and dust from the carpet in the hallway. The swirling water-filter vacuum, specially designed for people with allergies like herself, roared loudly enough to drown out her imaginary duel with a dust bunny.
“Ha! Take that!” With all the style and aplomb of a musketeer, she stabbed the vacuum’s hose beneath the telephone table and sucked up the dusty devil.
Her plan was a simple one. Clean up. Practice her heartfelt apology on Cassie’s behalf. Then, after sending poor Sean on his way, she’d walk down to the corner to pick up some Chinese takeout and mail the rent check.
Dragging the hose and vacuum behind her like a ball and chain, Caitlin brandished the brush attachment and attacked an alien glob of refried beans that clung to the table leg. “You’re next, fiend.”
But before she eliminated the enemy blob from outer space, something gold and shiny caught her eye. “Ah. Hidden treasure.” Judging by the scatter pattern of discarded clothes and jewelry, one of Cassie’s escapades with Tim had taken place out in the hallway. Still envying the idea of casting aside decorum and seizing the moment, Caitlin bent over at the waist and plucked an earring from the wine-red carpet.
That was when she noticed the man standing in her foyer.
The beast.
Come to life.
Caitlin blinked, not trusting her eyes.
He was still there.
Framed in the open doorway, which was barely wide enough to contain his broad shoulders, he stood and stared at her. His green gaze swept her from tush to tennies. Still bent over, staring with a bit of shock herself, she noted he wore a tweed blazer that matched the tawny color of his close-cropped hair. Beneath it he sported a plain white T-shirt that didn’t look very plain at all stretched across that well-built chest. For an odd moment out of time, Caitlin wondered if it was the cut of his coat or the hug of his jeans that made him appear so big. So broad. So solid. So strong.
She licked her lips as her mouth went dry.
So hot.
“Are you real?” she whispered, unheard over the vacuum noise.
Her gaze fell on the plastic daisy key ring that dangled from his right hand. Cassie’s key ring. The one she hid in the flower box outside her window and invited guests to use. Oh God. He was real. Very real.
Since the mysterious Tim was with Cassie in D.C., and Caitlin herself had no love life to speak of, this “guest” had to be Sean.
Great. Just great.
Even upside down and looking through her legs, Caitlin could tell this man was no mercy date.
Cassie had dumped him?
3
NICE BUTT.
Nice legs.
I don’t get the whole upside-down thing, but…
Wow. Very nice legs.
He’d caught the woman wielding a stainless vacuum attachment as if she were dueling with a sword. Then she’d picked up something and started talking to it. Now she was studying him as if he was a rare scientific discovery.
Keeping his distance so as not to trigger any more of her apparent eccentricities, Sean cleared his throat and blinked, breaking the stunned stare that had captured both him and the woman with the endless gams.
She stood up in a flurry and faced him. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. He squinted politely, expecting her to repeat herself. She rolled her eyes heaven-ward, pursed her lips and muttered something unintelligible. She was all flustered in a way that was part preteen and part prude—and disarmingly refreshing in an adult woman.
Sean resisted the urge to smile. She reached down and flipped off the switch on the canister vacuum, filling the apartment with a startling silence. If she was a housekeeper for hire, then he would seriously consider spending some time at his town house, dirtying it up so she’d have a reason to come clean it.
But she smiled and extended a hand in greeting that told him she owned the place. His ogle-the-maid fantasy gave way to polite respect at the confidence she exuded.
“Are you Cassie?”
“I’m her roommate, Caitlin McCormick. You must be Sean.”
Stepping forward, he folded his hand around hers, testing the finely boned structure of it. Despite her height and athletic build, Caitlin McCormick was still very much a woman. Certainly not a preteen and hopefully not a prude. It’d be a waste.
He nodded, once, in greeting and in silent approval. “Sean Maddox. Cassie said to let myself in. Did I interrupt something?”
“What? Oh.” Her silvery gaze darted to the vacuum beside her. She glared at the inanimate object as if it were responsible for the creative housecleaning show he’d just witnessed. She snatched her hand away and brushed her palms against the hips of her cutoff denim shorts. “Just trying to make a dull job a little more interesting.”
“I see.” He didn’t, but it was the polite thing to say.
Enough pleasantries. The clock was ticking.
“Is Cass—?”
“Cassie’s not—”
They’d spoken at the same time.
He grinned, trying to ease her nervous laughter.
But she quickly recovered and started again. “Sorry. I’ve been out of town, ever since school got out last week.”
“You’re a student?”
“Teacher. Junior-high English.”
Lucky kids. Why hadn’t any of his teachers had a body like that? The cutoffs she wore revealed a mile of leg that even his nonadolescent libido responded to.
The delicate points of her shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh that wiped away his smile and replaced his body’s interest with suspicion.
“Here.” She handed him a piece of flowered stationery from the hall table. “Cassie left this for you. She got called out of town unexpectedly.”
Sean scanned the note. His suspicion curdled in his gut and flowed out into his veins in a frustrated temper. “Damn.”
Over the phone, Cassie had sounded like the perfect woman for his plans. No strings attached. Ready for fun. But he’d expected her to keep her word about this weekend. His mistake.
He’d gotten caught at Dillon’s office in Quantico and hadn’t driven into Alexandria, Virginia, until nearly an hour past the time he’d arranged to pick her up. He thought his invitation had made everything clear. He was offering her a free vacation at a high-class resort in exchange for whatever she wanted to offer. As long as the other guests believed they were a couple.
He hadn’t offered his heart and she hadn’t asked for it. But did Cassie’s easy-come, easy-go attitude mean she’d move on to the next man if one date didn’t show up on time?
“I know it’s a surprise.” The voice of Cassie’s roommate cut through his brewing temper. “She said she did try to call you.”
Damn. Now what was he supposed to do? Diego Marquez might walk if Sean couldn’t come up with some connection between Justice Rossini’s trip to Pleasure Cove and his subsequent retirement. Sean would have a hard time dealing with Alicia Reyes’s silent tears if that happened. And the San Isidrans wanted answers soon about their ambassador’s murder, or they’d send up their state police looking for answers themselves. He had to infiltrate Pleasure Cove Island. Tomorrow. “Damn.”
“You said that already. I’m sorry. I know Cassie left you in a bind tonight. But don’t hate her. She’s impulsive—not heartless.” The roommate tapped the paper in his hand. “She did apologize.”
“Apologize?” He glanced up and, standing nearly eye-to-eye, drilled her with the damning look he had in mind for Cassie. “What good does that do me?”
Surprisingly, the roommate stood her ground without flinching. “She told me you weren’t close, that she was doing you a favor.” He watched guilt play over the woman’s features, overshadowing her confidence. “I know it’s inconvenient, but your feelings shouldn’t be hurt.”
“Inconvenient isn’t the half of it. I need a woman. Now.” Sean gritted his teeth and swore again. Didn’t that sound pathetic?
He tipped his head back and hissed an angry breath through his teeth, disgusted with himself for trusting that his plan with Cassie Kramer would work. “Women can’t be trusted to go to the line on anything.”
Caitlin’s hands shot up in protest. “Excuse me. You got screwed out of one last-minute date. Don’t blame the rest of the gender because your timing’s lousy.”
“She’s really not here?” Sean crumpled the note in his fist and began to stalk through the apartment, searching rooms, checking to see if this was all a lie and Cassie was hiding from him.
“Hey!”
Wasn’t that just like a woman? Leaving when you needed her most. This assignment was all about this weekend. She could have dumped him Monday, no problem. But tonight?
The roomie with the dynamite legs hurried after him, trying unsuccessfully to stop him from looking into the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, matching him stride for stride. “Could I have that key back? I don’t think you’ll be needing it anymore.”
She tried to block his path into one pigsty of a bedroom, but he pushed past her. Empty. He crossed the hall and entered a bedroom whose soft blues and tans and wrinkle-free perfection could have come from the pages of a magazine.
He felt her hand at his elbow then. “This is my bedroom. Get out.”
He whirled around, easily pulling free of her tugging grasp. “I had plans.”
Somehow he’d cornered the woman in the doorway. She’d have to brush against him to move past. But Sean rudely held his ground, letting the soft heat of her body seep into him across the breath of space between them. The faint tang of household cleaner blended with the salt-tinged ocean scent of the woman herself. She’d been out on the water recently. He breathed the observation, in and out, her fresh scent filling his head and calming his burst of anger.
She was tall, just a few inches shorter than him—and he was six-two. Her honey-gold hair feathered across her cheeks and forehead in something like a pageboy cut. Only curlier. Sexier. Her gray eyes had darkened to the color of a battleship. And there was definitely a battle waging there. Fire. Fear, maybe. Questions, certainly. But definitely fire.
Plan B took shape in his mind.
He skimmed his gaze down the front of her gray-heather T-shirt. Her breasts were small, barely noticeable beneath the oversize cotton garment. But her hips flared nicely. And those legs… Sean swallowed hard and leaned back to scan every smooth, shapely inch. An image of those legs wrapped around his hips, binding them together in the most elemental of ways, sprang into his mind, consuming his body in a flush of instant heat. Now his imagination decided to kick in!
Sean squeezed his eyes shut and focused on controlling the involuntary response. It had been too long since he’d had sex. That was all. Not once during the Marquez case. Nor the case before that.
He wasn’t a celibate man by nature, but he worked long, difficult hours. He kept company with equally busy fellow agents and criminal lowlifes. When he did run across a woman who charged his engines, he’d make a play for her. A few were okay with his Job Comes First motto. Elise had been. At first.
Then the hassle started. She just couldn’t let him be who he needed to be. She’d bought him ties and dressed him up for dinner. At first he’d used the demands of his job as an excuse to keep things light and fun between them. But somewhere along the line, an emotional bond had formed. And suddenly he’d been rearranging appointments to catch an afternoon quickie with Elise. He’d worn her damn ties.
He’d even swallowed his fears and ventured into a jewelry store. Just to look. There were a number of rings well within his budget that looked nice. That spoke commitment.
He’d walked out with something called a tennis bracelet instead. The next day he’d gone to surprise Elise at lunch. That was when she’d kissed that old friend. In front of him and God and the entire restaurant.
The bracelet was probably still wrapped up in the back of his closet somewhere.
Now Sean understood that his job was the only thing that had never let him down. So that’s where his loyalties lay. Women were for fun and nothing more—if they were agreeable. The Bureau was his full-time commitment. That way nobody got hurt.
But his lonesome body sure seemed to be paying the price for that self-imposed ideal.
He slowly opened his eyes, thinking his bitter memories had helped him conquer his body’s desire. But with his head angled as it was he was staring right at this woman’s breasts. Small, yes, but amazingly responsive. They rose and fell with each quick, deep breath she drew. His own chest expanded in a rhythmic response. Almost…nearly…not quite touching hers.
“What are you staring at?” The woman’s croaky whisper caressed his ears, but his focus had shifted to the subtle seep of color that washed up the swanlike arc of her neck and stained her cheeks.
Despite her boyish attire and eccentric housekeeping skills, she was a long, tall drink of purely female body. South of his belt buckle, he stirred in response again.
A sexy woman was the answer his body wanted to give. But his rational mind still had control. Barely. “How tall are you?”
The question came out of nowhere, from the uncontrolled depths of his subconscious mind.
Her gaze dropped to his chest. “Five-eleven.”
Then the subtle movement of her shoulders registered. She was hunching down, making herself shorter.
Suddenly, Sean had two fingers tucked beneath her softly jutting chin. “Don’t.”
He was lifting her up, tipping her chin up. He moved closer. She was an unexpected combination of creamy skin and steely strength. His fingertips sizzled at the contact. He wanted to sample a taste of that smooth, heated skin.
Her hands came up and splayed across his chest, halting him from coming any closer without pushing him back. It was too tender a touch to ignore, too hesitant a touch to justify the way his nerve endings jumped to greet the clutch of her fingertips. Her eyes had washed to a pale dove-gray, the rounded pupils big and black in their centers, as if she were drugged with the same hazy feeling that seemed to be clouding his own mind.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Judging by the hypnotic effect this woman’s body was having on his, he was charging his engines. He was giving vent to several months of unintended celibacy. He needed sex. Lots of it. He needed to get this fever she was igniting out of his system so he could do his job.
The idea in his mind became a living, breathing desire.
She wouldn’t.
He didn’t dare ask.
He had nothing to lose.
“Are you free this weekend?”
And then she did shove him. She retreated a step into her bedroom while Sean stumbled into the hallway.
Her rosy cheeks had blanched, but there was plenty of fervor left in her voice. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Mr. Maddox, but you can’t just come in here and take me apart with your eyes like that. Cassie stood you up, so you grab the next female who comes along? That’s the most insulting pickup routine I’ve ever—”
“Are you available?” He waved aside her rightful protest before she could lambaste him again. “I know, I know.” He moved into the foyer, away from the unspoken desire that had sparked between them. He needed to think clearly here. Think of the job. He glanced at his watch and swore. “I’m already late.”
Unless he drove straight through the night. He couldn’t risk any holdups with the airlines. But getting there in time did him no good unless he had an escort.
“Late for what?”
Bingo. Curiosity. She might have voiced a ladylike protest at his impromptu invitation, but she was interested. Despite her dating survival instincts, she was interested. Sean’s libidinous radar kicked in, backed up by his professional survival instincts. She might not want to admit it, but she was interested in him.
He slowly turned around and studied her again, from the smooth, flushed skin of her unadorned face down to… Good God, he had to stop looking at her legs. She wasn’t dressed in a particularly provocative fashion. But there was something about her. Something about the whole package of this Amazon that made him think his mission was still possible. That he hadn’t blown his entire weekend. That he hadn’t ruined this assignment. Yet.
She shifted nervously beneath his blatant perusal, crossing her arms at her waist, pushing the nubs of her breasts against the thin cotton of her shirt and creating twin points that tantalized him further.
“You’ll do.”
“I’ll do what?”
This sexy, Amazon temptress was more than Cassie’s odd, naive roommate. She might well be Sean’s salvation.
“Caitlin, isn’t it?”
“Yes?”
“Today’s my thirty-second birthday.”
She hesitated. “Happy birthday.”
He turned on what he could salvage of his charm. “How would you like to give me the best birthday present of my life?”
CAITLIN FELT INDIGNANT anger flush through her from head to toe with a bright rosy heat. “Birthday present? How ’bout I give you a punch in the face?”
How dare he? Either Cassie’s Dear John was a dangerous sex fiend or he was making fun of her.
“What?” A look of stunned surprise filled his dark green eyes an instant before an answering blush crept up his neck. Then those same eyes narrowed in an angry squint as he waved aside her prickly pride. “That wasn’t a proposition. Not that kind, at any rate. But I do have a business proposition for you.”
She arched one eyebrow in doubt. “Is it any better than your last line?” She watched as he pushed up the tweed sleeve of his jacket and looked at his watch. “And quit checking the time. It’s rude. If you have to go somewhere, go. I’m not stopping you.”
Caitlin stiffened in cautious anticipation as his expressive face grew still. One second he was antsy, the next completely calm. Spooky. Cool in a Terminator kind of way, but spooky.
“I don’t have time to do this nice and subtle,” he announced. He pulled back the front of his coat and reached inside. “I’ll make it quick.”
That endless expanse of taut white T-shirt gave way to a band of black leather that curved over his shoulder and hung down beneath his arm. A holster, with a gun. A big, black, deadly looking gun. Make this quick?
“Oh my God.” Caitlin jumped back a step. Mr. Terminator was reaching for his gun! “Don’t shoot me!”
She reached for the nearest thing that looked like protection and came up with the nozzle on the vacuum cleaner. She held it in front of her in both hands like a weapon.
Sean froze. He looked at the nozzle. He looked at Caitlin. He looked down to where his hand hovered beside the holster. Then he looked at her again, studying her frightened expression with a cockeyed squint that indicated he thought she was the crazy person here.
Their gazes held for about two seconds, just long enough for her courage to waver. Then he was moving again. All-business. He pulled a leather wallet from an inside jacket pocket. “Don’t worry, McCormick. I guess I should have used a little more finesse in my invitation. But I’m afraid smooth moves just aren’t my style.” He inclined his head toward the nozzle she wielded in her hand. “If it’s any consolation, neither is shooting a woman who could suck my brains out.”
Suck? Caitlin’s heart tripped an extra beat. A raw rush of heat and pressure pounded between her legs and left her lightheaded. Sex? This guy wanted her to…? Her gaze flew to his crotch. She’d never. She wanted. She wouldn’t. “How dare you!”
“Here.” He flipped open his wallet. Inside she saw an official-looking ID and a polished brass badge. Uh-oh. “I’m Special Agent Sean Maddox, ma’am. I’m with the FBI.”
The nervous excitement that had pounded through her body flooded her neck and face with embarrassment. Sucking. The vacuum. He’d been talking about the vacuum. Of course. Idiot.
“FBI?”
Ignoring the aftershocks of sexual frustration and indignation that were slow to die, she gathered her wits and took the wallet in a tentative grasp. She studied it a few moments. The picture matched. He hadn’t been smiling when this ID photo was taken, either. U.S. Department of Justice. Federal Bureau of Investigation. Sean Michael Maddox. DOB 05/29/71.
“It is your birthday,” she murmured out loud, but read on. New England Bureau Administrative Chief. Though the tension eased from her posture, suspicion quickly took its place.
She handed back the wallet. “Your ID says ‘Administrative Chief’, not ‘special agent.’ And Virginia’s a little out of your New England territory. Either you’re a liar or that’s fake.”
“I assure you, my work with the FBI is very real.” He returned the wallet to his pocket, making a dramatic effort to show her that he wasn’t going anywhere near his gun. “What I’m about to tell you can’t go beyond this apartment, Miss McCormick.”
Oh God. That sounded serious. Dangerous. His warning, articulated with just the barest indication of a foreign accent, sounded like a line right out of a James Bond movie.
Interesting.
The aftershocks of emotion inside her gained momentum.
“You mean it’s a secret?”
“Top secret.”
Despite her distrust of Agent Maddox or Chief Maddox or whoever the hell this distracting hulk of male animal was, the right side of her brain kicked in, pushing logic and protestations aside. He was about to share a government secret with her. Caitlin breathed in deeply, giving her brain plenty of oxygen to fuel her imagination. She was about to become privy to some real cloak-and-dagger information.
“Is Cassie in trouble with the FBI?” she asked.
“No. But she was going to help me with a time-sensitive case. A mutual friend gave me her name. She was going to provide my cover this weekend while I conducted an undercover investigation.” He paused to read Caitlin’s reaction, then continued without comment. “Since she’s unavailable, I’m asking you to take her place. I need you to be my mistress so I can gain access to an exclusive couples-only resort.”
