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“Nope. We’ve got bills to send out.”
He gave me a sly look from under his dark lashes. “I’ll bring you back some Tandoori chicken from Shalimar.”
Ooh. He was playing hardball. Growing up in a restaurant made me pickier than most when it comes to quality, well-prepared food, and Shalimar was named best ethnic food in the Las Vegas Review-Journal. I relented on the ninety-minute lunch, just like he knew I would. Say what you will, but the man knows how to stay on my good side.
Alone again, I called up a blank document on my laptop and started typing up my impressions for the Gray Cavanaugh file.
Kept husband? Got his house, his car and his cash from the wife, got his job from the father-in-law. Maybe he married for love, maybe not. Probably cheating just to prove he’s a real man.
Follow-up for work and golf schedules. Check background (basics should be enough), credit statements (past three months) and cell phone bill (frequent numbers and times of calls).
A few minutes later, I got up and wandered into the kitchen. Yawning, I waited impatiently for the water to gurgle and blurp out of the ten-gallon jug and into my oversized plastic cup. I’m not trying to be trendy. Las Vegas is the fastest growing city in North America, which puts a lot of demand on the desert environment.
All the golf courses around here don’t help.
I do my part by only drinking the bottled stuff. It’s imported from some natural spring in Pennsylvania. I guess you’d say I’m a closet environmentalist, saving the world one cup at a time. Then again, I never remember to separate the trash on recycling day.
As I walked back toward my office, the hairs rose on the nape of my neck. The air seemed oddly still. I was no longer alone. Remembering this morning’s dream and the subsequent phone call, my heart hiccupped in my chest. There was a phone in my office. My nine-millimeter was stashed in my desk drawer. The emergency exit was through the storeroom. Which would be quicker?
My fight-or-flight instinct froze with indecision. Shit. All three choices were too slow and it was too late to hide my reaction. Nothing to do now but fight. Whipping around, I saw a hulking silhouette. His features were hidden by the glare through the front windows. I tensed as he came closer, bracing for whatever happened.
His presence was somehow primal, unnerving. And familiar. It ought to be, as often as I’d studied his digital photo.
I released the breath I’d been holding. Flinging out my left arm, I aimed the full cup of water at his face.
“Hey! It’s—”
I put everything I had into the punch that followed. When my right fist connected with his chin, I felt equal parts satisfaction and pain.
“It’s me, damn it!”
I bent over to grab my cup with a shaking hand as the adrenaline slowly filtered out of my system. “I knew who it was.”
It’s not like I could have forgotten him. A guy doesn’t walk into your life, turn it upside down and then disappear without leaving an impression. I thought I’d gotten past it. If not forgotten, at least moved on. I was wrong.
Okay, maybe it hadn’t been the first time I’d gone to bed with a guy and woken up by myself. But it had been the first time I’d cared.
After the nuclear meltdown that had been Bobby Mattingly, I hadn’t dated much. Two years passed before I accepted a dinner invitation. Another year before I had sex again. I’d slept with a couple of guys since but hadn’t let it get serious. Then I’d met Cameron and lightning struck.
So I figured I could be forgiven for expecting more than his morning-after note. S, You’re amazing. I’m sorry for this. Something’s come up and I have to leave immediately. I’ll call when I can. C. He hadn’t bothered to come up with an original kiss-off line. Obviously, I hadn’t been that amazing.
After wiping a hand over his face, Cameron raked back his wet hair. “I guess you’re surprised to see me, eh, love?”
I flinched. “Don’t call me that. I’d be more than happy to hit you again.”
Not exactly true. He had a cast-iron jaw and my hand already hurt like hell. It had been worth it. I hadn’t heard a word from him in two months, two weeks and four days. But who the hell was counting, right? Why be “surprised” about that?
What really ticked me off was my other reaction, which was purely physical. His damp black T-shirt stretched tightly across his shoulders and chest. Faded blue jeans skimmed over what I knew to be long, muscular legs. And I’m a sucker for long, muscular legs. He moved toward me and I had to fight my natural reaction—internal combustion in the face of an alpha male.
Cameron Stone is a lion of a man—six foot three or four, golden and gorgeous. In a word? Dangerous.
“Are you having a go at me because you lost the last fight?” He reached toward the tender skin beneath my eye.
I ducked his hand and crossed my arms, tapping a finger against the cup. “No, I’m picking a fight with you because your note wasn’t exactly the Valentine I’d hoped for. While I appreciated breakfast, Stone, I would have appreciated an explanation more.”
“Stella, love—”
“Don’t call me that.” He’d used the L word twice now. Even out of context, it was awkward, unsettling, and so very wrong.
Unable to avoid it any longer, I looked directly at his face. Wherever he’d been, whatever he’d been doing, his features now had edges hard enough to suit his name. He’d let his hair grow and his Celtic skin was deeply tanned. His light blue eyes still had the power to both captivate me and put me on my guard.
He looked really good, damn it.
I tried to forget how often he’d made me smile that night, the way my heart had raced when our fingers touched, or how eager I’d been for him as midnight became morning.
His eyes warmed considerably as he’d looked at me and asked, “Where have you been?”
“Right here, waiting,” I’d answered.
The intense sunlight hurt my eyes. That’s why they were tearing up. I swallowed hard, struggling for control. The level of my anger would reveal the depth of my feelings, and damned if I was going to allow that. I had questions, lots of them, but I also had some pride. So I kept things as simple as possible.
“Where the hell have you been?”
“As I said in the note—”
“Something came up. That was the best you could do?” I let my tone slide down into the sarcastic range.
His mouth flattened. “Aye, something came up. It was rather urgent and I had to take the first available flight.”
“Where to?” I tipped my head, intrigued. Stone didn’t strike me as the kind of man who ran from trouble. But, then again, what did I really know about him?
He continued to look me right in the eye, not an apology in sight. “I can’t give you any details.”
“Can’t? Don’t you mean ‘won’t’?”
“Can’t. Client confidentiality and all that.”
He shrugged, one of the cockiest gestures I’d ever seen. Either he was using confidentiality as an excuse, or he was adhering to it out of expediency. Professionally I understood, but personally it set my temper off.
“Fine, no details. How about a broad overview? It’s been almost three months, Stone. What kept you from calling once this something was finished?”
His hesitation only lasted a nanosecond, long enough for me to realize he’d already decided how much not to tell me. “This is the soonest I was able to contact you.”
Asshole lying jerk bastard. “Nice to see you, Stone. Feel free to drop out of my life again.” I turned my back on him, heading into my office.
“Not so fast.”
Before I could take more than a step, his arm banded around my waist. He leaned back against the door frame, turning me in the space between his thighs. The thrill of being so near him again struck me like lightning. I felt the sizzle in every nerve of my body as repressed desire added to the heat of my anger.
I could have knocked him on his ass, had him flat on his back in less than a heartbeat. That’s what I told myself, anyway. But I didn’t because, knowing Stone, he’d have thought it was foreplay.
“Let me go.”
“I did that once and didn’t much care for it.”
I laughed harshly, not about to fall under the spell of that sexy brogue. “You’ve got it backwards, Stone. You’re the one who left.”
“I know. Believe me, I didn’t want to.” When I pushed away he didn’t stop me. I moved toward the opposite wall, putting distance between us so my body would stop humming. “But I’m back, Stella. I’m here now.And I’m wanting to work things out.”
Crossing the space between us, he cupped my shoulders, sliding his calloused hands up and down my bare arms. He held my gaze calmly, his pale eyes clear and candid. I knew better. There’s nothing open about Stone except his blazing sensuality. Seriously, he’s a natural-born charmer.
But I was in no goddamned mood to be charmed and feeling emotionally unprotected did nothing to improve things. So I ignored his oh-so-sincere assurances. “The only thing we need to work out is when to file—”
The little bell over the front door chimed. I frowned, startled to realize that it hadn’t made a sound when Stone came in. Jon started down the hall, then stopped dead in his tracks. His expression hardened as he looked at us—Stone still loomed over me, grasping my elbow.
Jon drew himself up to his full height and struck a menacing pose, muscles flexed, eyes watchful. “Who’s this?”
I’ll be damned. A knight in flaming armor.
But, instead of an Uzi, Jon had a takeout container under his arm. It ruined the effect. Right now, I needed to defuse the situation or I’d be picking carpet fibers out of my lunch.
“This is Cameron Stone.” I slipped from his grasp and took a step back. “He’s—”
“I’m her—”
“—leaving now.”
Stone shot me a look, but thankfully didn’t finish his sentence. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
I squared my shoulders, irritated by his unspoken censure. “This is Jon Chase, my secretary.”
“Administrative assistant,” Jon cut in, glancing from me to Stone and back again. He had yet to move, apparently still gauging the threat.
Stone nodded in greeting, though his focus stayed on me. “We’ve some things to discuss, you and I. A proposition.”
I snorted inelegantly. “I’m still trying to recover from your last one.”
That brought Jon closer to my side. He stood just in front of me, making himself an obstacle. When I tapped his shoulder, he turned his head but didn’t take his eyes off Stone.
“I thought you were taking a long lunch.”
“It can wait.” Jon didn’t seem ready to shift out of action-hero mode. “Should I ask why he’s wet?”
Stone spoke up. “He is wet because I gave her a bit of a start when I came in.”
I looked over and caught his faintly amused expression. Damn it, couldn’t he at least pretend? Jon was acting more jealous than Stone was.
“I’m fine. Really. I just wasn’t expecting the ghost of mistakes past.” I darted my eyes in Stone’s direction, then held my hand out to Jon. “Can I have my food now?”
He handed over my chicken and a small plastic bag. “I got yours first. Try to remember this when I’m up for a raise.”
“I’ll make a note of it,” I replied in my least sincere voice. “Go get that lobster.”
“I’m not hungry.” Jon eyed Stone some more even though he was talking to me. “If you need anything at all, I’ll be right at my desk.”
“Nice to’ve met you.” Stone held out his hand.
Jon ignored the gesture.
Stone let his hand fall to his side. “I’m sure we’ll cross paths again.”
That did not make me happy. It sounded like a threat to my mental health as well as a casual promise to my secretary. Jon walked away, but not before giving me a look that warned he’d be asking a lot of questions later. Let him ask.
There was no easy way to explain Stone.
CHAPTER SIX
A Matter of Trust
“YOU CAN GO, TOO.”
Stella pierced Stone with a green-brown glare, angling her head toward the front door. Then she turned on her heel so swiftly that her braided hair swung in an arc. Cameron admired the sway of her bum before following her down the passageway. With little effort, he recalled the satin feel of her bare skin and the sinuous muscle beneath it.
He glanced about, registering the agency’s layout and exits from habit. He walked into the last office just as she went round the desk, set her meal down and flung herself into the chair. He studied her, replacing memory with reality. Hair as dark as a raven’s wing with wide hazel eyes beneath straight brows, a classic nose and a full mouth that begged a man to kiss it.
And that bloody shiner. The anger had hit him out of nowhere, as if he could feel the impact of that fist against her cheek… He’d seen quite a few people die over the years, some of them by his own hand. And yet the sight of her barely concealed bruising made him ill.
He forced his gaze away, schooling his expression to mask the sudden rush of feeling. Looking around, he made note of the motorbike helmet, technical books and utilitarian blinds along with the watercolor canvasses, delicate glass paperweights and flowering plants.
“You’re just as intriguing as I recalled.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Stone. Why are you still here?”
He hated having his back to the door, but he took the visitor seat, gingerly crossing his left ankle over his damaged knee. “As I said before, we need to talk.”
“So talk.” She flung up her arms in resignation before opening the polystyrene container. The room filled with the scent of grilled chicken, garam masala and lemon.
He nodded toward her food. “I don’t suppose you’re sharing that?”
“No.” She took an exaggerated bite, closing her eyes and humming with gusto. “Why did you come back?”
He couldn’t tell her, couldn’t possibly explain how he’d left the Bellagio with the oddest sensation of the light going out of the room. He hadn’t much experience with light. A relationship was something he never thought he’d have. In his line of work truth and true emotions weren’t to be allowed. No ties to hold him back, no assets to compromise him.
Yet there was something about Stella. For the first time in years, he’d felt…
He’d begun making arrangements while waiting in the Vegas airport’s international terminal for his flight to Bogotá. He hadn’t wanted to leave in the first place. But Nick Anson, head of the Nighthawks, had needed him and the job had been one he couldn’t refuse. A matter of a life or painful death.
Unfortunately it had taken longer to come to the final end of things than anticipated. He, Ice, Loco Vaquero and Blueman had spent miserable weeks in the jungle dealing with the Liberation Front rebels. The ordeal had only strengthened his resolve to return to Stella. He’d begun several times to ring her up, but even so he’d known an impersonal call wouldn’t do.
