The Espionage Effect(42)
I swallowed, painfully aware of my nipples drawing tight against my thin linen top, attempting to ignore a taunting ache that seeped down through my body, sparking nerve endings as they sizzled to life. When I sucked in a shaky breath, he escalated things, sliding the hand that had been parked innocently on my hip forward. He possessively dug his fingertips into the tender flesh on front of my hipbone and pulled me flush against him.
His growing erection imprinted against my backside, making its presence irrefutably known from the upper cleft of my butt cheeks, over my tailbone, and up against the small of my back.
“Behave,” I hissed, even though I loved the game as much as he did. And in analysis, the pummeling of willpower didn’t only test him, it also steeled me.
He ignored my warning entirely and slid his thumb underneath the loose waistband of my linen shorts. He began to rub lazy circles over my skin, stoking a hotter ache between my thighs.
I leaned forward, interrupting his teasing. “Something’s happening.”
“What?” His hand froze, grip tightening as he mirrored my movement, leaning forward.
“Escobar left his guests at the table. He’s only taken a few bites of food,” I whispered. “He glanced at his watch right before he rounded the corner. He’s vanished.”
“Maybe he’s making a phone call.”
I panned the view out, gaining perspective of the entire house again. “There.” A light turned on in the first room down the hall.
“His office.” He squinted, watching the house but not asking for the binocular sunglasses.
I returned them anyway; I’d seen enough of the impressive technology. And Alec was officially the one doing reconnaissance.
Near enough to shore to see the house unaided by technology, I watched our target with him. I grinned at the instinctive thought. Our target. Another light flared on, in the adjacent room. The first one flashed off. Seconds later, a third one positioned two rooms over turned on. Then a fourth illuminated down below.
“Huh.” I narrowed my eyes in thought. “Did anyone else leave the dinner table?”
He gave a slight headshake. “No. All three are carrying on an animated conversation. The wives are laughing; Martinez excels at flirting.”
Ah. So Alec knows the dinner guests.
Another few lights glowed on, this time on the lower level. I cocked my head, analyzing. “Must be staff going from room to room. Maybe they’re lighting candles.”
We sailed away, running parallel to the shoreline and heading back toward my hotel. Alec grunted in reply, unable to maintain a head-on view into the windows any longer. From our growing distance, all we could see was the occasional room light up.
Near-total darkness had fallen by the time Alec loosened his hold on me and pocketed his sunglasses. The magic of our heated moment had dissipated, lost in our focused observation of others.
Great. On our excursion, his spontaneous covert reconnaissance (and my spy training, unbeknownst to Alec) had only uncovered mundane staff habits. Not a golden nugget of information, but gathered facts nonetheless, filed away with the discovery of an underground river tunnel’s position during our snorkeling expedition. All in all, a productive spy day—clandestine acts, his and mine.
“Don’t suppose we’re having dinner together,” I muttered, suspecting the answer. His mood had cooled with the temperatures. Our cruise and allotted time together rapidly spiraled to a close.
“No.” His tone flattened.
The perfunctory rejection didn’t matter. Obligatory, with the rules he followed. A testament of loyalty to his employer and the almighty mission.
Even so, although our teasing each other all day had become a sport of sorts, we’d recklessly engaged in more than harmless flirting. We’d had a taste of the explosiveness of our chemistry. To tempt fate further would risk greater attachment, involve emotions, neither of which we could afford. And I understood the reasoning.
Alec had a mission to accomplish, one he’d been clear I could play no part in. But with subtle urging, he’d relented and allowed us this brief time together.
I’d formed my own mission: increase our time together, exponentially. Agenda hidden.
“Okay. Spill it.”
Anna’s curt demand made me spin back around to face her.
I cast her an unamused look. “You first.”
Doctor Escobar’s promised seamstress brought over a third dress for me to try on from her rack of seven selections. And after Anna’s five “mandatory” hours of primping in the resort’s world-renowned spa—Swedish massages, exotic sugar scrubs, pedicures, manicures? and finally our hair shampooed with organic concoctions and professionally blown out—a simple dress in ice-blue silk glimmered like a bright light at the end of a long grooming tunnel.
And as the divine material cascaded down my sugar-polished skin, my fortified cynical walls weakened. In spite of the best efforts of the darkest parts of me, I began to feel beautiful, transformed in a way I wouldn’t have believed if someone had told me a pretty exterior would have a soul-warming quality.
But the ball-gown-window-dressing hadn’t been the only cause. Recent events had compounded the effect. Such as the enormous effort Anna had expended in making our impromptu girl’s day momentous; we’d been apart for the entire first half of our vacation, after all. But even more important, my coveted disguise had grown more complete as pieces I hadn’t been aware were missing had begun to fall into place—Alec…the enticement of espionage. As expert as I’d become in hiding behind my fa?ade of civility and calm, opportunity had finally shone down, enabling me to take my needed subterfuge in the world to a whole new level.