His Captivating Confidante (Secret Sentinels) (12 page)

Boxes filled with books were scattered around the floor. All the great classic authors were represented, but the collection also extended to more modern works. There was a wonderful selection from every genre, with a strong bent toward fiction over works of nonfiction.

“If there’s anything you need, let me know and I’ll arrange to get it,” Vanessa told them. “And Frank, while Stephanie mulls the space over and decides how she wants to set things up, I’ll get our butler to take your belongings to the guesthouse. Would you mind going back with me to show him where your luggage is?”

“I’d be happy to.”

Watching as they headed out together, Stephanie did her best not to let the easy rapport Frank had with Damon’s attractive PA bother her. She told herself she wasn’t jealous, but when Frank returned with the pretty blonde half an hour later, laughing with her over a shared joke, she had to admit to herself that, yes, she was indeed jealous.

Grr.

“Damon phoned while we were getting your luggage settled,” Vanessa told her. He’s wondering if you might consider doing him a favor.”

“Of course. What does he need?”

“He’s been contacted by a book dealer in response to a search he’s been conducting. He’s been trying to locate a rare, first-edition volume of
Treasure Island
. The dealer claims to have a copy that he’s willing to sell. Damon was wondering if you might be willing to assess the edition and verify its authenticity. He wants to be certain it’s worth the asking price.”

“Sure,” she readily agreed.

“Great. The meeting will be held at Damon’s office in New York, so we’ll take his helicopter out tomorrow morning.”

“May I come along?” Frank asked.

Vanessa shook her head. “I’m sorry, Frank. The copter is a three-seater, and since Damon will be making the return trip with us, there’s only room for Stephanie and me.”

“What about the pilot?” Stephanie asked.

“You’re looking at her,” Vanessa replied with a grin. “It falls under the ‘miscellaneous duties as assigned’ part of my job description.”

“Ah . . . a woman of many talents,” Stephanie said. “That’s great. And the trip sounds like fun.”

Risking a quick glance at Frank, Stephanie spotted thunderclouds gathering in those brilliant blue eyes of his, telling her he wasn’t at all happy she’d agreed to go on the outing without him.

Those thunderclouds erupted into a full-fledged tempest the moment Vanessa left the room. Arms crossed in front of his chest, he looked anything but pleased.

“Fun?” he hissed as soon as Vanessa was out of earshot. “Are you crazy?”

“What?” she queried, feigning innocence.

“You know very well
what
. I’m referring to the
what
we discussed when you were assigned this mission. You’re putting yourself at risk by spending time alone with Damon.”

“I’m not going to be alone with him. Vanessa will be with us.”

“Only for as long as it takes for Landers to get you away from her. You don’t know what his motives are for asking you to do this favor for him. He might—”

She held up her hand, halting his protest. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Encasing me in bubble wrap. You like to whip out a roll whenever it looks like my life is about to get bumpy. You need to stop.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “He’s not what you think. One-on-one time with him is dangerous.”

“This is not up for discussion. I’m going—with or without your blessing.”

Shaking his head, he reached out a hand to cup her face. Her heart sighed.

“I just want to keep you safe, Kitten.”

“And I want you to trust me to make my own decisions. I’ll make the right ones concerning Damon. I know you think he’s slimy, but I see a different side to him.”

“I’m sure you do. Has it occurred to you that’s because it’s the side he
wants
you to see? I can guarantee he has more than the Dewey decimal system on his mind,” he warned.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Frank couldn’t mask his irritation at Stephanie’s stubbornness. The urge to protect her was fierce. He wanted to lock her in the library while he handled both
pieces of this mission—his
and
hers—but he knew she’d never buy into that.

“You don’t have to do this favor for him in order to carry out your assignment. You already have access to his inner sanctum—you can track down what we need without having to spend time alone with him.”

She raised her eyes to the ceiling as if looking for divine assistance. “I take it you aren’t okay with my going to New York.”

No, he wasn’t okay with it. He was still seeing red at the thought that Landers had already put his hands on her once at the charity benefit. Stephanie thought she had a handle on the situation, but he knew it was unwise to discount the playboy tycoon’s powers of persuasion.

“I don’t know why you didn’t stick to the plan.”

“It’s just one brief meeting. No harm is going to come of it. Besides, look on the bright side. Vanessa and Damon won’t be around the mansion. There will be two less people to worry about while you investigate Damon’s possible connection to the man responsible for Pamela’s death.”

“It’s a dangerous dance, this dalliance with Landers. I don’t want you lowering yourself to that level.”

“Coddle alert!” she warned again. “For the last time, I’ll be perfectly safe with Damon. Would you stop making it sound like I’m going to bed him to extract his secrets? I can assure you I have no intention of going down that road. I don’t need to resort to smarmy tactics to get the info we need. Now, if you’re done second-guessing my methods of operation, I’m going to start cataloging this amazing collection.”

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

They worked well into the afternoon, unboxing books and organizing them according to author and genre. Frank was impressed by the speed with which Stephanie was able to organize and shelve the huge collection. By the time they decided to call it a day, she’d made an impressive dent in the project.

He shot her a beaming smile. “It looks great.”

“Thanks for all your help. Are you sure you’re not overdoing it with your shoulder? Some of the volumes are heavy.”

“I’m positive. The shoulder is fine,” he assured her. “So . . . we have a couple of hours until we join Damon and Vanessa for dinner. What would you like to do?”

“A swim would be nice, but I’m guessing that’s still off-limits for you, right?”

“Yeah, but I’d be happy to lounge and do some reading while you enjoy the pool.”

Unfortunately, relaxing while Stephanie made the most of the gorgeous infinity pool proved to be easier said than done. Frank tried to concentrate on the spy thriller he was reading, but his focus kept getting hijacked by the sight of Stephanie’s long, tanned limbs gleaming in the sun. She swam like a fish, lithe and sleek, and he couldn’t tear his eyes off her.

“The water’s perfect,” she enthused. “I know you’re not supposed to swim with your injured shoulder, but you can always just splash around to cool off. Come on in,” she invited.

It was a tempting offer, but he wasn’t ready for her to see the reality of what his last assignment with the CIA had cost him.

He hesitated a moment too long before replying. Her glance bounced from his eyes to the shirt he was still wearing—in the blistering sun—and he saw the moment she connected the dots.

“You didn’t take your shirt off on board the boat, and you don’t want to cool off in the pool even though it’s baking out here?” She paused, her eyes filling with compassion as understanding dawned. “You said you were tortured. It was bad, wasn’t it?”

He nodded grimly. “Yeah. There are marks. It’s ugly.”

“You don’t have to hide your scars from me, Frank. There’s nothing ugly about you,” she refuted.

She’d see them eventually, he supposed. “Okay. I’ll go and change into a swimsuit. I’ll be right back.”

When he returned to the pool, he waded in to join her prepared to see pity in her eyes when she caught her first glimpse of the nasty scars that crisscrossed his upper back.

Anger flashed in those beautiful amaretto eyes instead, sharp and fierce, as she gently ran a finger along the raised, puckered skin.

“Those bastards,” she breathed. “What kind of men do something like this?”

“The kind that do whatever it takes to get what they want.”

“It must have been horrible.”

He brushed off her pity with a shrug. “It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” she countered, compassion misting her eyes. “We’ll find the men who did this to you. They’ll pay for killing your partner and for making you suffer.”

He pulled her close and brushed a tear from her eyes. “Don’t cry, Kitten. I’m tough. It’ll take a lot more than a little torture to keep me down.”

Her lips curved in a watery, yet mischievous smile. “In that case . . .”

With a slap of her hand against the sparkling surface of the water, she succeeded in drenching him.

Shaking the water off, he narrowed his eyes and waded closer to her. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it isn’t fair to kick a man when he’s down? If I could swim, you’d be in deep trouble right about now, lady.”

“That’s why I took advantage of the opportunity,” she laughed. “What better time to strike than when you can’t retaliate? Think of it as payback for that time in the tenth grade when you terrorized me with a frog on the school camping trip.”

Her laughter was contagious, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “A carpe diem moment, huh?”

“Exactly,” she agreed—right before she splashed him again.

This time he did retaliate, splashing back. The impromptu water fight started innocently enough, but when their slippery bodies accidentally made contact, the battle turned sensual.

He looked down to see her peeking up at him from underneath her lashes. Her tongue slipped past her lips, moistening them. Powerless, he followed the movement with his eyes.

They stood there, eyes locked, the air between them charged with erotic electricity.

“We shouldn’t.” she breathed, reading his intent.

“No, we shouldn’t,” he agreed.

But he did anyhow.

Dipping his head, he captured her mouth, urging her lips to part.

When he reluctantly broke off the kiss, she looked at him, dazed.

“I’m pretty sure there’s no one following us this time,” she stammered.

“No. This time I meant to kiss you.” Smiling down at her, he pushed a lock of wet hair away from her eyes. Pulling himself back from the dangerous precipice he was teetering on, he fought for self-control. He’d warned her about Damon Landers, but at the moment he realized he was as much of a threat to her innocence as the slimy business mogul. “I shouldn’t have, though,” he sighed.

“Why not? Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t explore the attraction between us.”

“There are dozens of reasons; all of them good. Topping the list is that I’m not willing to risk our friendship on a temporary physical attraction that could burn itself out eventually.”

“What if what we’re feeling isn’t temporary?” She took his hand, squeezing it tight. “We take risks every day, and ninety-nine percent of them are worth it. I’m willing to chance it. Are you?”

He wanted to chance it.
Lord, how he wanted to
. But she was crushing on a version of him that didn’t exist. She thought he was a man who could be a warrior while also inhabiting the world of white picket fences and romantic happily-ever-afters. Nothing could be further from the truth. He couldn’t straddle two worlds.

The warrior part came naturally to him, but the happily-ever-after bit was as foreign to him as the billionaire lifestyle he’d eschewed. Stephanie deserved someone who could make the stuff of fairy tales a reality for her—and that wasn’t him. She deserved forever, and he couldn’t offer her that.

“Yes, I have feelings for you,” he admitted. “But I was out of line in acting on them. I won’t let it happen again.”

What he didn’t tell her was that he feared there would be no going back, now that the damage was already done.

Dinner at Damon Landers’s estate, Stephanie soon learned, was nothing short of an
event
. Damon’s chef had prepared an elaborate feast, served al fresco out on the expansive stone patio.

She, Frank, Damon, and Vanessa were comfortably seated at a cast-iron dining table. The tabletop was covered with a fine linen tablecloth and dotted with an array of candles. A myriad of decorative lights, strategically placed to highlight the surrounding gardens, cast a warm glow. An outdoor fireplace added to the festive atmosphere.

Damon’s chef served Caesar salads and piping-hot rolls for them to enjoy while he prepared their main course. The smell of steak grilling on the massive outdoor cooktop wafted through the air, tantalizing their taste buds.

Damon proved to be a congenial host, regaling them with tales of the various personalities he had encountered in the financial-planning world. His stories had them in stitches, and Stephanie noticed that Frank seemed to warm to their host as the evening wore on. She wondered if he might be revising his opinion of the man.

Vanessa was a charming dinner companion, too. Seeing the way her gaze lingered on Damon throughout the evening, Stephanie decided her initial assumption that the woman had designs on Frank was way off base. Vanessa only had eyes for her boss. But while there was definite chemistry between Damon and his PA, it also seemed they were both intent on ignoring those sparks and on keeping their professional barriers in place.

The meal was extraordinary, and Stephanie told the chef so when he delivered after-dinner coffee to complement a decadently rich chocolate mousse he served with gobs of fresh whipped cream.

“See?” she whispered in Frank’s ear at a moment when Damon excused himself to take a phone call and Vanessa was busy chatting with the chef. “Damon isn’t the Big Bad Wolf, after all. He’s been a perfect gentleman.”

“That’s because I’m here.”

“Actually, I think it’s because if there’s anyone here he’s interested in, it’s Vanessa,” she countered.

It wasn’t until they bid Damon and Vanessa good night that she remembered she was going to be sharing the guesthouse with Frank—and that meant she’d be alone with him in this lover’s paradise. With the glow of the evening they’d just shared coloring her judgment, she knew that could be a very risky prospect.