Code Name: Nanny (SEAL and Code Name #5)(71)

“Not exactly.” His thigh slid between hers.

Cara turned, pulling Tate down against her. “You mean, as a taxpayer and civic-minded resident of the great state of California?”

He studied her face in the darkness. “Forget California. Forget everything outside this room. I’d walk away from it in a second if it meant protecting you and your family, Cara. Do you believe that?”

After a long time, she nodded.

“Then say it out loud. You’ve been hurt before, and I need to know that you can trust me with what you value most.” There was an edge to his voice, bound with a note of fear.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you, Tate. And my girls certainly wouldn’t be running free as if this were their home.”

“Damn it, it is their home—yours, too. At least it will be, just as soon as you marry me.”

“We’ll discuss that later.”

“No, now.”

“Later,” she said. “After Summer and Gabe return.”

He started to protest, but she put a finger on his lips. “I trust you with everything I am and everything I love. But the rest of the world?” She shivered though the room was warm. “Not them, not in a thousand years. There are a lot of Costellos out there, and they’d eat us alive if they could. So don’t ask me for promises, Tate.” There was desperation in her voice as she pushed him down and slid her body onto his. “That way I won’t have to tell you any lies.”





[page]chapter 24

The car was waiting at the airport, just as promised. A small man with a straw hat carried a sign that said “Walker,” and when he saw Gabe wave, he hurried to take their bags, speaking in broken English. Gabe responded by switching to fast, colloquial Spanish.

The man looked at Summer and said something low, which made Gabe laugh as he shot back an answer.

“What was that about?” she murmured, once their old Ford taxicab was bumping along the road toward the center of Los Reyes.

“He says the se?ora can’t be my wife. You’re too—” Gabe cleared his throat. “I believe the word he used was juicy.”

Summer smiled at the man, who was watching her in the mirror. She leaned closer to Gabe and toyed with his hair. “Just call me a devoted, loving wife, Mr. Walker,” she murmured.

Gabe’s eyes went dark. “You’re doing one hell of a job, Mrs. Walker.”

Then he bent his head and ran his mouth slowly over hers, pinning her against the seat while he tasted her with his tongue.

Hunger shimmered between them. Summer’s heart did a sharp jackknife and ended up somewhere near her ankles.

When she was able to focus again, Gabe was back on his side of the seat, smiling possessively. “You’re blushing, Mrs. Walker.”

“Like hell I am.” Summer looked down, pretending to straighten her blouse in case he was right.

“Looks good on you. You could stand some color.”

“Cosmetic advice? What next, fashion tips?”

She couldn’t read his face as he ran his thumb gently along her cheek. “Only one thing would look better than what you’re wearing now.”

Summer crossed her arms stiffly. “And that would be?”

Gabe smiled faintly. “You wearing a smile and a promise, nothing more.”

She bent close, smiling sweetly. “In your dreams, Morgan,” she whispered.

His laughter was rich and dark, and in response, the driver looked back and nodded, pleased to see that the two Americans were very much in love.



When the bellman left, Gabe turned on the shower full blast. “Come here and kiss me,” he said loudly. “No talk. There may be bugs,” he whispered as he pulled Summer into his arms.

Summer nodded, but an inner demon made her drape her body over his and slide her arm around his neck. “What’s the hurry, darling?” she purred.

Something flashed in Gabe’s eyes. If it was a challenge, she noted it and then ignored it. Some part of her wanted to be . . . what was the word the driver had used?

Juicy.

A juicy woman.

She let the words drift in her mind, enjoying their dark thrill. All her life she’d been too tall, too plain, too studious. No one she knew in high school or college would ever have called her sexy.

But she felt sexy now, smoldering in the balmy night, wrapped in Gabe’s arms. Which was why she threw caution to the wind, pulled down his head, and opened her mouth over his, tasting him slowly.

When Gabe pulled away, a pulse hammered at his jaw. “You do pick your moments, Mrs. Walker.”

“All part of the therapy, Mr. Walker,” Summer said sweetly.

Gabe pulled something out of his pocket and palmed it. She watched him move to the bathroom door and flip off the light.

In case there was a camera hidden in the room.

“Can you get me a clean shirt, honey?” His voice was casual as he pulled off his jacket, then held the small, countersurveillance device out of sight while he swept the bathroom, top to bottom.

Summer let out a little breath when he shook his head. “Here’s your shirt.”

Gabe moved back into the plush bedroom and took the clean shirt she had removed from his bag. “Nice place. There’s supposed to be an outdoor hot tub, in case you’re interested.”