A Covert Affair Page 9

  “You look beautiful,” he murmured, reaching out and clasping his hand around her hip. His fingers flexed, digging slightly into her. The move was so bold and a little unexpected as he pulled her close. Taking her even more off guard, he leaned down and brushed his lips lightly over hers. It was a cliché, but sparks went off between them. A simple touch of lips shouldn’t affect her so much, but that deeply buried need for him took on a life of its own, desperate to taste more of him. She wanted to melt into him, to part her lips and allow him entrance.

  Her fingers barely skimmed over his hard chest, the material of his suit jacket soft. She couldn’t seem to do any more, though. It was as if her brain had forgotten how to function.

  She stood there, rooted to the spot, until he murmured, “Relax, this is all part of our cover today.”

  His words were like ice water right in the face. He’d just kissed her as part of their cover. Okay, she wasn’t stupid, he’d probably felt something, but he hadn’t done it because he’d wanted to, he’d done it for his cover. That brief brush over her lips and she didn’t want to relax, she wanted to take all his clothes off. Peel that charcoal gray suit off him and kiss every inch of his ripped, naked body.

  Instead of indulging in that insanity and getting arrested for public indecency—and tearing open old wounds—she took a small step back and smiled as she slid her arm around his waist. “I’m ready if you are.” Or she’d thought she was. This morning everything had seemed so easy, and though she wasn’t having second thoughts, it was overwhelming.

  His arm around her was possessive as they stepped out the front door into sunshine. It was still spring, so the weather was perfect. Low humidity, sunny, but cool enough that she might need a light sweater at lunch.

  “You okay?” he asked quietly as they strode across the packed parking lot.

  “Yeah, but now we’ve given my staff gossip for a while.” She leaned into him, feeling more like herself as they walked together. Maybe it was pathetic, but she wanted to take advantage of their time together, since she didn’t think it would last. She wouldn’t have to act as if she enjoyed this. Even if it was a combination of heaven and hell. She’d walked away from him and held back something he’d had a right to know. It had taken years for her to come to terms with everything, but it had been too late to be honest with him about what she’d lost—what they’d lost. She could come clean now, but . . . God, she broke out in a sweat even thinking about it. It wasn’t as if she could just blurt it out right before lunch. Not when they were both supposed to be focused.

  “You’ve never brought a man you’re dating to work?”

  “Uh, no.” And she wasn’t going to expand on that any time soon. Especially not if anyone was listening. “Is it just the two of us right now?” she asked as they reached a silver Lexus. She’d tried to look for an earpiece and hadn’t seen anything on him but needed to know.

  His mouth curved up a fraction as he opened the passenger door. “Just us.”

  She slid onto the smooth leather seat and had just strapped herself in when Nathan joined her.

  “No earpiece, I swear,” he reiterated as he started the engine. Maybe he knew she needed to be reassured. “This part of the op has to remain as if it’s just the two of us. If Mercado suspects anything is off, it could put you in danger. We figured you’d act more natural without a team listening in.”

  “Yeah.” And she was relieved.

  “You having second thoughts?” He pulled sunglasses from the middle console and put them on.

  She didn’t like not being able to see his eyes. “No. I just . . . I think I feel a little bad, which is stupid. If Mercado is a criminal, then screw him, but if he’s not, I feel bad using him this way. And I’ve been thinking about your plan and I’m not sure it’ll work. If he sees us having lunch, won’t that make him more likely to just cut his losses and walk away from me?”

  Nathan snorted, the sound so amused it made her smile. “Not a man like Mercado. He’s selective about who he dates, and according to you, he pursued you pretty hard.” When she nodded, he continued. “He’s going to see you out with me—a man he’s already feeling competitive of—and be pissed. Men are simple creatures, Amelia.”

  She shook her head. “Is that right?”

  “Yep. He’s going to ask you out again. He’ll want you even more when he sees you out with me. It’s a caveman mentality. And it wouldn’t work with everyone, but my team of analysts thinks it will with Mercado.”

  “That’s . . . kind of sad.” She wondered if it would work on Nathan.

  He lifted his shoulders. “Told you, we’re simple.”

  That was bullshit, but it still made her smile, which she figured was his point. “Okay, why does he feel competitive of you?” Because neither Nathan nor Cade had explained what Miguel Ortiz allegedly did for a living.

  Another shrug, this one more forced.

  “You’re not going to tell me?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Oh.” That made sense, she supposed. His cover ID would be classified, or maybe there was another reason. Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to push. At least not about that. She knew when to pick her battles and she had a lot more questions, most of them personal. “So, where are you living now?”

  “Uh . . .”

  “Seriously? You can’t even tell me that. Fine, can you tell me why you left the Corps?” Because it had been a dream of his to enlist and serve his country. She’d thought he would stay in for decades.

  The tightness in his shoulders loosened as he paused at a stop sign. “Simply, the right job came along.”

  “Do you do a lot of stuff like this, helping missing women?”

  He paused, as if contemplating his answer. “Sort of. It’s usually a little bigger scale than this.”

  “I’m sure the women will appreciate your help.” Amelia fought off a shiver as she imagined the reasons the young women were being taken.

  “Yeah . . . So, how is it that you’re single?” The question sounded casual enough, but there was a tightness to his body once again.

  Since “because I never got over you” was a pathetic answer, she said, “Work keeps me busy. Most men don’t want to compete with my job.” Which was actually true. Since she was eighteen she’d been a complete workaholic. Dating and relationships had barely registered on her radar. She’d been determined to be successful, and her personal life had become a casualty.

  He made a sort of grunting sound that could have been in commiseration. As if he understood what she meant. Unlike him, she wasn’t going to ask if he was single . . . Was she? Apparently she had no self-control, because the words just tumbled from her mouth. “Are you with anyone?”

  “No.” The immediate answer soothed something jagged clawing at her insides. Something she hadn’t been aware of.

  A tense silence filled the air as they neared their destination. There were so many damn things she wanted to say to him. Mainly she wanted to tell him the truth about why she’d ended things. She’d been so young and afraid before. Afraid that he’d hate her or never look at her the same, but now . . . Well, right now certainly wasn’t the time, but she would tell him soon. And there were other things she wanted to say as well. “I went to Benita’s funeral,” she said quietly.

  His hand jerked ever so slightly against the wheel. “You did?”

  “Yeah. A lot of her friends showed up. She lived in that neighborhood forever.” Amelia smiled as she thought about sweet Benita, who’d baked for pretty much everyone in her small neighborhood at one time or another. Whether for birthdays or baby showers, she’d always shown up with baked goods in hand.

  “I hated that I couldn’t be there.” There was a dose of self-loathing in his voice.

  “Your parents told everyone you were overseas, and Benita would have understood. You know that. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.” What the hell was wrong with her? They both needed to be ready for their upcoming “show,” not drowning
in memories.

  “No, it’s nice to talk about her. She left me her house.” He pushed his sunglasses onto his head and shot her a quick glance as they pulled into the hotel’s entrance.

  There was a line for valet and she found herself thankful they had to wait. She wanted to soak up all the extra time they had together when they weren’t playing a part, when it was just the two of them. “I’m not surprised. Did you sell it?”

  “No, I rent it out. It’s a nice monthly income and . . .” He shrugged as he glanced at her. “I don’t think I could ever sell her place. It holds too many memories.” His eyes were full of heat and longing.

  They’d shared their first kiss on his grandmother’s back porch. And a lot more in the bedroom he used when he’d stayed there. “Did you ever think about us over the years?” The words came out barely above a whisper. Her heart pounded against her chest, blood rushing in her ears, as she waited for him to answer. She shouldn’t have asked, because she wasn’t sure she could take the answer. Hell, she didn’t deserve one. Not after the way she’d ended things between them.

  “All the fucking time, Amelia.” The words were guttural, raw, and so honest they sliced right through any barriers she’d managed to put between them. For just a moment she leaned forward. Maybe to kiss him, she wasn’t sure.

  But a short horn blast from behind them made her jump. Nathan cursed under his breath and turned away from her as he pulled under the valet parking overhang. His jaw was tight as he put the car in park, his frustration clear.

  Maybe it was just as well. Liar, her inner voice shouted. Amelia desperately wanted to kiss him again. And not a chaste brush of lips, but the real deal. Walking away from him had shredded her, but she’d wanted to feel pain. She’d felt so guilty all the time that she’d felt as if she deserved the pain. Now that she’d come to terms that what happened wasn’t her fault, she needed to tell Nathan everything. Later, though.

  She put those thoughts on hold—though she was definitely coming back to them later—and forced a smile she didn’t feel as one of the valet employees opened her door.

  It was showtime.

  Chapter 7

  Operational objectives: small steps or phases of an operation that lead to the success of the goal.

  Nathan kept his hand at the small of Amelia’s back as a hostess led them to the outdoor patio seating. He’d chosen this hotel’s restaurant specifically. Mercado owned the hotel and was often here on Saturdays. Not something Amelia would know, though.

  Mercado would likely guess Nathan, aka Miguel, had known, though. He’d see it as a subtle challenge. Which was exactly the point. Nathan might hate the idea of Amelia going to Mercado’s house for the op, and the truth was if he could convince her not to, he would. But if they could bring Mercado down, using Amelia as an in was the way to do it fast and easy. Because right now they had no fucking clue where the women had disappeared to.

  It wasn’t as if his team wasn’t looking either. The missing women had simply vanished, fallen off the grid in a way that his team knew they’d been taken, and unfortunately he figured some were gone forever. Either dead or wishing they were. His gut twisted at the thought, and part of what he was feeling must have shown on his face, because the hostess jerked back when she looked at him and hurriedly set their menus down on the table before skittering off on impractical high heels.

  “Is that fierce look how you attract the ladies?” Amelia asked in an amused voice as she sat. The tabletop was glass, so he got a great view of when she crossed her smooth, bronze legs.

  “There’s only one woman I want.” She probably thought he was acting, but it was the truth. He pulled his chair closer to her, not because it was part of the op, but because he wanted to be close to her. Fuck, he wanted to be inside her. He wished he could hate her for the way she’d walked out of his life as if he meant nothing. Hell, even indifference would be better than this gut-clenching hunger he experienced every time he was near her. But deep down he knew there was a reason she’d ended things between them. She’d been too damn stubborn—that being the understatement of the century—to tell him what it was. It hadn’t mattered how much he’d asked—begged—her to tell him then, she’d flat-out refused. God, she’d been so cold too, nothing like the warm, fiery Amelia he’d known. Then her mom had fucking disappeared with her and he’d had no way to track her. In the end he figured it had been a good thing. At least then. He’d gone off to the Corps, and without social media or a way to talk to her, it had been easier for him to deal with the complete severing of their relationship.

  He was going to find out soon enough, though. He wasn’t an eighteen-year-old boy anymore and he wanted some answers. Or at least closure. God, he’d never been able to get rid of the idea that she’d cheated on him. Maybe the guilt had been too much. He wouldn’t have thought it possible she’d ever do that, but it was the only thing he could think of. It was probably why he hadn’t pushed harder. He hadn’t wanted to know if she’d betrayed him like that.

  “Is that right?” she asked seductively, scooting close until their knees almost touched.

  His entire body tightened at the sexy drop in her voice. He flashed to an image of her riding him, her long dark hair falling around her full breasts like ropes. She’d always used that sexy tone when turned on. And like Pavlov’s freaking dog, his body responded to it.

  “Did you wear that dress to drive me insane?” he murmured just as a server approached their table.

  She didn’t answer, but her cheeks reddened, making his dick wake up. He’d managed to keep his hard-on at bay, but Amelia in that dress was too much for his self-control. Of course it wasn’t the dress, but her. Petite with full breasts and toned, bronzed legs, she was a walking wet dream. The fact that he’d seen her naked didn’t help him any either. Her hips were a little curvier than when they’d been together, but her upper body was stronger, leaner.

  “What can I start you two off with this afternoon?” the server asked.

  “Two glasses of champagne, and we need a few minutes,” he said without looking up, his eyes only for Amelia. He’d never ordered for a woman before, but this was all part of his cover. Miguel Ortiz was a domineering man who took control of all situations, including his dates.

  “Uh, right away, sir.” The man disappeared as quickly as he’d arrived.

  Amelia’s lips twitched slightly, as if she was fighting a smile. “Let’s get back to your other question. Yes, I wore this dress just for you. You like it?”

  God, he wished he knew if this was part of her act or if she was being real. “All I can think about is peeling it slowly from your body.” His words were low, guttural, and there was enough space between their table and the others that no one could hear them. He wasn’t lying either. He hoped she knew it too.

  Her cheeks flushed again and she had started to respond when her gaze flicked over his shoulder and slightly widened. She shifted in her chair, as if nervous, and he didn’t think she was acting. Mercado must be here. Good.

  A small dose of adrenaline surged through Nathan. If Mercado was involved in taking so many women, Nathan would take pleasure in bringing him down. Fucking with him in his own restaurant was icing on the cake. They just had to find proof because the man certainly wouldn’t confess.

  Nathan half turned, acknowledging Mercado’s presence as he approached.

  The man made a straight line for their table too, no pretenses. Dressed in a casual suit with no tie, he smiled easily as he came to stand under the umbrella of their table. “Miguel, Amelia.” His smile tightened ever so slightly when his gaze landed on Nathan. “I hope my people are treating you well.”

  “You own this restaurant?” Amelia asked, her question seemingly sincere.

  When Mercado looked at her his expression lost that icy hardness, something Nathan found interesting. Mercado seemed to be genuinely interested in her. He nodded once. “I own this hotel and the adjoining two.”

  “Oh, uh . . . it’s lovely
here.” Once again her cheeks flushed, as if she was embarrassed. She was doing well.

  If Nathan hadn’t known she was lying, he’d believe her. Of course he didn’t think the embarrassment was fake. He knew she felt bad about bringing a date to one of Mercado’s places, since she’d just gone on one with the man last night. He thought she might not be totally convinced Mercado was guilty. Even if he wasn’t, Nathan didn’t want her going out with the man in the future. Something inside him had shifted at seeing Amelia again. He loved his job, loved serving his country, but he didn’t want to be alone forever. And he could never just settle. It wasn’t in his DNA. He was like his abuela in that way. Her husband had died when she was twenty-nine, leaving her with one daughter. She’d never remarried and, according to her, she’d never had the desire to.

  Nathan gave Mercado a pleasant smile and slid into his role as Miguel, discussing the restaurant and his intention to buy a new boat that afternoon. He was just a little arrogant, but not over-the-top. By the time Mercado left their table, Nathan was glad to be rid of him. From Amelia’s barely perceptible sigh of relief, she was glad to be alone with Nathan too.

  He could tell Amelia wasn’t sure about their plan, but he had no doubt that after seeing her out with “Miguel,” Mercado would be asking her out again soon. Then they just needed to get her inside his house.

  Lunch had been good, but Amelia was itching to get out of this place. She hadn’t seen Mercado again, and she was glad for it. Nathan had seemed to slip into his role so easily, but it felt strange to her. Well, the flirting and teasing with Nathan had come easily, which in itself was disconcerting. They’d flirted throughout the meal and while she knew it was just part of their show, it had hit way too close to home.

  She’d liked it, had allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to let Nathan kiss her again, what his hands stroking over her breasts and between her legs would—okay, she was shutting that thought down right now.