His Captivating Confidante (Secret Sentinels) (2 page)

The responsibility of safeguarding his life had been hers, and she’d failed him. Terrified that even the slightest miscalculation on her part would mean her bullet would strike him instead of her intended target, she’d frozen instead of taking the shot that would have brought down their assailant.

“Should you be doing this, with your injury?”

He shrugged his good shoulder, unconcerned. “It’s fine.”

His reassurance didn’t assuage her guilt one iota. Her inability to take action during the recent firefight had given rise to the exact consequence she’d sought to avoid. Almost as appallingly, she hadn’t told anyone the truth about her screw-up. Not even Lauren, her best friend and fellow Sentinels agent.

Lauren—on the scene when the attack had unfolded—had assumed she hadn’t had a chance to get a shot off. Stephanie hadn’t corrected her friend’s conjecture for fear that doing so would get her booted back to her old post. She wasn’t proud that she’d withheld the truth about what had transpired.

She was pulled from her ponderings when another couple bumped into them on the dance floor, prompting Frank to draw her closer to steady her. Cradled against the solid wall of his chest, all she could think of was how right it felt to be wrapped in his arms.

She needed to put some space between them, or he’d certainly catch on to the fact that she still harbored feelings for him that went way beyond friendship.

Attempting to regain a modicum of control over her stampeding emotions, she took a step back. “Well,
I
shouldn’t be dancing with you,” she asserted. “I’m here on assignment, and you’ve just interfered with it.”

Technically that was true, even though she’d already accomplished her goal.

To her surprise, he didn’t appear at all disconcerted by her proclamation.

“I know. Liz told me what she asked you to do. I’ve already taken care of it.”

She stared at him, confusion warring with irritation at his presumptiveness. “What do you mean you’ve taken care of it?”

“I had some business dealings with Damon Landers when I was working undercover for the CIA. I’ve kept in touch with his personal assistant, who has carte blanche on hiring. I spoke with her tonight, and I mentioned I’d heard her employer was looking for a professional to set up his library. I told her I knew a talented librarian who sometime takes on private side projects. The job is yours.”

Her guilt evaporated as she struggled to tamp down the fury his words ignited. “I can’t believe you did that. Did Liz ask you to back me up? Was she afraid I wouldn’t be able to pull this off on my own?”

“Of course not. She never doubted you had this covered.
I’m
the one who was worried about you.”

“I can take care of myself. You didn’t have to intervene on my behalf.”

“You’re my friend, Steph. You can’t blame me for wanting to take care of you.”

No, she couldn’t blame him. That didn’t stop her from wishing he would set aside his sense of responsibility long enough to see her as a woman.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” she bristled, camouflaging her hurt with indignation. “This mission I’m tasked with is well within my capabilities. For your information, Damon offered me the position tonight. Liz was certain if I could attract his attention, engage him in conversation, and steer said conversation to my work as a librarian that he would enlist my help cataloging his personal book collection, and she was right. I may not have as much field experience under my belt as you do, but that doesn’t mean I can’t carry out a simple assignment.”

Too bad her show of bravado was all bark and no bite. In reality, she wasn’t at all sure she
could
handle things. She was trying to convince him of her proficiency when she’d yet to convince herself.
After all, she’d failed him.

“I wasn’t questioning your skill as an operative,” he countered. “It’s just that . . .”

“Just what?” she interrupted, needing to give voice to a validation that was as much for her benefit as it was for his. “You just wanted to spare me from failure? Well you’ve wasted your time. I’m perfectly capable of doing my job. I’ve already landed the position.”

“I know you’re more than capable, but Damon Landers is a shark among sharks and you . . .” he trailed off, his gaze roaming over her curves in a visual caress that sent an involuntary shiver zinging down her spine. The concern in his gaze was replaced by another, far deeper emotion that darkened his eyes to the color of a stormy night sky. Her heart skipped a beat.

“I’m what?” she prompted, the words emerging in a husky murmur from a throat that had suddenly gone dry.

“You’re innocent,” he rasped out. “I wasn’t about to stand by and watch while that pervert had you for dessert.”

She wanted nothing more than to counter his assertion, but she couldn’t. She would be lying if she did. “I’ve already made it clear to him I’m not on the menu.”

“You may think you did, but I saw the way he was looking at you. He’s still watching you now, as a matter of fact. Like a hawk.”

The waltz ended and the band segued to a tango. As the provocative music filled the ballroom, she moved to step out of his arms. He gently tugged her back.

“Stay,” he commanded. “Dance with me again.”

The look he sent her way was demanding, but there was a hint of vulnerability behind the steely confidence that completely annihilated her defenses. Not trusting her voice, she simply nodded, allowing him to pull her closer.

And then there was no room for thought. An all-encompassing carnal haze enveloped her as he connected their bodies in the tight positioning the tango mandated. When the final sensual beats played out, he dipped her to the floor. He held her there for a moment, his gaze colliding with hers.

He was looking at her as though he was seeing her—
really
seeing her—for the first time.

His gorgeous blue eyes dropped to her lips, his gaze glittering hotly, and her breath caught in her throat.

Kiss me
, she urged him silently, hoping the expression in her gaze would convey how desperately she needed to feel the firm press of his lips against hers.

His head bent toward hers, and for a second she thought he’d read her mind and planned to follow through. But as suddenly as the moment had materialized, it vanished. He drew her to her feet and off the dance floor, leaving her wondering if she’d imagined what had just transpired.

“What was that all about?” she blurted out in an effort to cover up the disappointment and confusion his abrupt withdrawal had left in its wake.

“Call it a preemptive strike to convince Landers you’re already spoken for. I want to make certain he sees us as a couple.”

“I’m not a toy to be claimed,” she seethed. “And you can tone down the testosterone. I told you—I’ve already made it clear to him I’m not interested.”

“Landers can be very persuasive when he wants something, and it’s obvious he’s decided he wants you. He’ll persist until—”

“You can stop right there,” she cut him off, narrowing her eyes at him. “Now you’re insulting me. Even if he
wasn’t
embroiled with the criminal element, as you say he is, I wouldn’t have the least bit of interest in getting personally involved with him. Do you really think I can’t see right through his handsome facade?”

“I’m just asking you to be careful, Steph. He isn’t trustworthy. He makes a hobby out of collecting women for his twisted personal trophy case.”

“I don’t need you to run interference in either my professional
or
my private life. I’m a big girl now, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

He drew her closer, his fingers skimming up from her waist to lie dangerously close to the sensitive underside of her breasts. “Oh, I’ve noticed.”

Heat scorched her skin where his fingers brushed, leaving behind a tingling awareness that had her breath catching in her throat.

Then he lowered his head to her ear and whispered a challenge—one she knew she should refuse. To her chagrin, his proposition proved as impossible to resist as the man himself.

And she heard herself say “Yes.”

Later that evening, back in the alleyway . . .

This is what you get for caving to Frank’s charms
, Stephanie silently admonished herself. She hated her lack of resolve when it came to him. Sure, the man was the epitome of eye candy, but that didn’t mean she should let lust take over every time he stepped within fifty feet of her. She needed to find her backbone and shake off her silly crush.

Speaking of getting in touch with her backbone, she hadn’t had much luck standing up to her boss earlier, when Liz had assigned her to make contact with Damon Landers—a financial tycoon whose ties to suspected mobster Lawrence Mendacci had earned him a spot on the Sentinels hot list.

Certain her less-than-glamorous librarian cover image made her a poor choice of bait for a man whose Achilles’ heel was his weakness for beautiful women, she’d insisted there was no way she’d be able to attract their target’s attention.

Instead of doing the reasonable thing and letting her off the hook, Liz had brushed off her concern that she wasn’t the right agent for the job. Her boss had simply waved her magic wand and arranged for a whirlwind makeover.

The instant transformation from straitlaced librarian to sexy seductress had left her feeling like Cinderella, but Liz’s plan had worked. She’d garnered Damon’s attention and he’d offered her a side job setting up his personal library in his new estate. She was traveling to his private island in Long Island on Sunday to begin cataloging his extensive book collection.

Buoyed by her success, she hadn’t seen any harm in accepting Damon’s invitation to dance. The closer she could get to the handsome playboy, the easier it would be to gain his trust. And trust meant she’d have a better shot at uncovering the evidence that would put Lawrence Mendacci behind bars for good.

Still, she really needed to learn to quit while she was ahead. If she hadn’t lingered at the gala after she’d accomplished her mission, Frank wouldn’t have caught up with her. She’d be home relaxing in a tub of bubbles with a glass of wine and a good book—instead of here playing with fire.

The sudden and unexpected clanking of metal against metal startled her out of her musings. Scanning her surroundings for the source of the disturbance, she exhaled a relieved sigh when she spotted an alley cat slinking away from an overturned trashcan.

At least the furry creature was a card-carrying member of the nine lives club, and not a rat. The alleyway might appear to be a barren wasteland at first glance, but she had no doubt it wasn’t as deserted as it seemed. Both the four-legged and two-legged variety of rodent were afoot here, and letting her attention wander was the kind of reckless behavior that could get a girl in trouble courtesy of the latter.

Focus. She needed to focus.

The next noise she heard wasn’t as innocuous, and it had her reaching for the pistol holstered at her hip.

This time it wasn’t a stray feline that sprang out from the shadows, but an armed assailant. And he had her in his sights.

Taking aim at the gunman’s chest, she got a shot off before he had a chance to fire. The round connected, sending him dropping to the ground.

Four more assailants followed, and she took three of them down as effortlessly as she had the first. She had a lock on the last attacker when the unthinkable happened. Her gun malfunctioned.

Only one thought reverberated through her head. Unless she came up with a plan in the next few seconds, she was toast.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

A maelstrom of danger-induced adrenaline surged through Frank as he watched the scene unfolding before him. He wasn’t armed, having heeded his surgeon’s direction to limit the use of his shoulder until the muscles and tendons shredded by the bullet that had ripped through it healed. Fortunately, he knew plenty of other ways to take down an opponent. Especially when he had the element of surprise on his side.

Leaping into the middle of the fray, he positioned his body between Stephanie and her attacker. One well-placed kick later, he eliminated the threat.

The reward for his effort was a visual skewering, courtesy of the daggers flying from Stephanie’s gorgeous hazel eyes.

He’d thought she’d be grateful that he’d stepped in to help, but it wasn’t gratitude spilling out of those pools of amaretto swirled with forest green. Clearly she didn’t appreciate his intervention. He made a mental note to add “fierce independent streak” to the personality traits he hadn’t known she possessed.

“Why did you do that?” she demanded, sparks still shooting from her eyes. “I had the situation under control.”

“That’s not what it looked like from where I was standing,” he countered.

She tilted her chin up and glared at him defiantly. “You didn’t need to race to my rescue. I was planning my next move. I was about to make it when you interfered.”

God, she’s even more gorgeous when she’s angry.

He’d never noticed it until tonight. Earlier, when she’d lost her temper in the ballroom, her beauty had taken his breath away. Like it was doing now.

Liz had told him Stephanie was one of Sentinels’ best sharpshooters, so when his injury had forced him to the sidelines of his laser competition team, he’d invited her to try out for his spot. Dared her, actually.

She’d jumped at his challenge, despite the short notice that had necessitated her going directly from the hotel to the playing field without having an opportunity to change out of her evening gown.

He found himself wishing she hadn’t responded to the provocation, because the sight of her in the slinky black satin number she’d poured herself into was doing treacherous things to his libido.

“A word of advice. Unless that bracelet you’re wearing doubles as a bullet deflector, you might want to do a bit less strategizing and a lot more acting.”

“Very funny. For your information, I was going to use that discarded chain by the wall as a backup weapon when you went all Rambo on poor Bruce, here.”

Turning to see ‘poor Bruce’ ogling Stephanie, his jaw tightened at the expression of unadulterated male admiration on his teammate’s face. If Bruce didn’t peel his eyes off her cleavage, Stephanie would see what his version of going Rambo
really
looked like.