Harlequin Intrigue June 2015 - Box Set 2 of 2: Navy SEAL Newlywed\The Guardian\Security Breach (5 page)

“Got one,”
he said softly as he reached the end of the zipper.

Tracie turned and let the dress slide off her shoulders. “Where would you like to begin?” she said loud enough to pick up on any listening device in the room.

Rip's stomach flipped. Hell, he'd like to begin at her lips and taste every inch of body. Unfortunately, she was talking about the location of the camera he'd found.

The yellow dress fell to the floor, pooling around her feet. Wearing nothing but her bra and panties, she batted her eyes, lifted the filmy garment in her hand and paused. “Aren't you going to get undressed?”

“You don't have to ask me twice.” He took the dress from her hands and tossed it in the air. The fabric caught on the wrought iron of the chandelier, effectively blocking the view from the miniature camera perched there.

Standing at the bedroom door, Rip switched the light off, to keep the dress from getting too hot on the lightbulbs and catching fire.

Moving quickly and efficiently, Tracie slipped into a silk robe that had been left on the bed. Then she made her way around the room checking behind the wall sconces, beneath the edges of the furniture, inside vases and behind the king-size bed's headboard. When she skimmed her fingers along the underside of the nightstand, she came across another device and pulled it from its mooring.

Rip followed suit, combing over the sitting room and the bathroom, discovering a camera and a listening device in each. Over the cameras, he tossed hand towels. The listening devices he pulled free from the furniture where they were mounted.

Collecting the one Tracie had found, he wrapped them tightly in one of the fluffy towels and stuffed them into the back of a drawer. If the listeners were concerned about the sound being muffled...too bad.

Rip didn't relax until they'd completed a thorough search of the room and Tracie stopped in front him. “I think we got most of them,” she said quietly. “But don't let your guard down.”

Nodding, Rip sighed. “I don't know about you, but I could use a shower and that siesta.”

Tracie smiled. “I'm a bit tired after the flight and everything else. You can go first.”

Speaking louder, Rip offered, “Sweetheart, it's our honeymoon, we can shower together.” Then he cupped the back of her head and kissed her neck. “Just in case we missed some.”

Tracie wrapped her hand around the back of his head. “I'm not showering with you.”

His lips trailed across her jawline and back to her earlobe. “I promise not to look.”

“Or touch?” she asked.

He raised three fingers. “Scouts honor.”

Tracie's brows furrowed. “Why do I get the feeling you've never been a Boy Scout?”

“Probably because I never have.” He turned her away and patted her silk-covered behind. “Now go get the water warmed up. I like my showers like I like my women, hot and wet.”

Tracie's gasp and the frown she tossed over her shoulder at him made him chuckle. Her cheeks flushed a healthy pink and her eyes flared. He gave her a head start of thirty seconds and then joined her in the bathroom.

Tracie had the shower water running and her silk robe hung on a hook outside the tiled walls of the large walk-in shower.

Rip studied the mirror. Call him paranoid, but he couldn't be certain the mirror wasn't hiding another camera, given the amount of surveillance devices they'd taken from the room.

He told himself he was playing a part. Hank had said from the time they touched ground in Honduras until they left, they had to be completely convincing, even with his contact, Hector. He wasn't absolutely certain of his allegiance to Hank or his alliances with the rebels in Honduras. But he was the best provider of security in the area, with a reputation that had made him a very wealthy man.

For the sake of the mission, Rip shed his white suit and hung it on another hook before stepping into the huge, stone-tiled shower.

Tracie stood with her back to him, her long brown hair covered in soap suds that slid down her slim athletic, naked body, big suds slipping off the rounded globes of her bottom.

As quickly as he stepped into the shower, he slipped behind her, and clamped one hand around her waist and the other over her mouth.

Chapter Five

When thickly muscled arms wrapped around her waist, Tracie slammed an elbow backward and stomped her bare heel into the instep of her attacker.

Rip bit down on his tongue to keep from yelling out loud, and let out a pained hiss. “Damn it, it's me.”

Her body went rigid, the shower pelting her skin and Rip's face as he leaned close. “I wasn't sure if the mirror might be two-way or hiding a camera. So I got in the shower like we're a newlywed couple.” He dropped his hand from her mouth, but didn't loosen the arm around her waist until he was certain she wouldn't attack him again.

Her hands crossed over her breasts and she hunched her shoulders. “Then why did you grab me?”

“I knew I'd startle you and didn't want you to scream.”

Tracie snorted. “You got the first part right. Now let go of me and turn around. It's not like we have to take this charade all the way.”

“I'll let go if you promise not to hit me again.” He groaned. “I think you broke one of my ribs.”

“I'm not making any promises or apologies,” she said.

He let go anyway and stepped back, admiring her body, before he turned away with equal twinges of guilt and regret.

Switching one of the other showerheads on, he squirted a handful of body wash into his palm from a dispenser on the wall and rubbed it into his hair and over his shoulders. It was too flowery for his liking, but he imagined it was some high-dollar brand used exclusively by the rich. He preferred a plain bar of soap.

Tracie cleared her throat behind him. “This is awkward.”

Rip glanced over his shoulder and caught her looking over hers. He grinned and gave her his back again. “You obviously haven't been in the military. Modesty is the least of your worries.” He spoke low enough his voice wouldn't carry outside the shower walls or over the sound of the running water.

“I suppose bullets rank higher on your scale of concerns.”

“Yup.”

“I guess you had a point. I just wish you'd warned me before we both got in the shower.”

“I didn't think about the mirror.”

“It's probably just that—a mirror.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

Tracie snorted.

“By the way,” Rip hesitated. “You have a beautiful body.” He smiled, knowing his words would get to her.

He wasn't disappointed by the gasp behind him. His smile broadened until he was hit in the head with a sopping washcloth.

“Hey.” He turned and grabbed her around the waist as she pulled her arm and the cloth back for a second attack. “I just call it as I see it.”

“You weren't supposed to see it.” She struggled to free herself from his hold. “Let go.”

“Not until you quit swinging at me.” The more she wiggled, the more Rip became aware of her rounded, wet breasts pressing against his chest. Before he could will his natural reaction away, his body responded, his groin tightened and his member hardened, pressing into her tight belly.

Tracie froze. “Uh.” She bit down on her lip. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Did I mention that I think you have a beautiful body?” He started to set her away from him, but her arms wrapped around his waist holding him against her.

“This is really awkward,” she whispered, her voice breathy.

“I'll just leave the shower. You can have it to yourself.” He didn't want to leave at all but was afraid that the longer he stayed, the more he'd want to do more than was strictly necessary to nail the role.

“Don't move. I'm naked.” Her eyes were round and her cheeks bright pink. And damned if she wasn't biting her lip again.

It was bad enough her naked body was pressed flush against his, but biting that lip did all kinds of crazy to him. It wouldn't take much and he'd be beyond his ability to control himself. And for Tracie's sake, he needed to maintain his control.

Trying not to breathe too deeply and add more friction to the movement between their chests, Rip suggested, “How about I close my eyes and back away.”

“Please don't move,” she repeated, sounding as if she couldn't get enough air into her lungs.

He reached up and pushed a wet hank of hair out of her face, that little bit of movement making him even more aware of every inch of her skin touching his with the shower's spray heating the space between them. “If I don't move now...” Rip ground his teeth together, his fingers curling around her arms, preparing to push her away. To hell with the possibility of a camera behind the mirror. He couldn't take much more and not...

“What?” Her hands slid up his back.

“What, what?” he said, his mind a blank, all his blood rushing south to another extremity.

“What will happen if you don't move?” She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, as if it gave her strength and permission to continue to hold him. “You feel it, don't you?” she asked, her words barely above a whisper.

He leaned his head back, letting the shower's spray pelt the back of his head, trying to beat sense into him, one drop at a time. “I feel, a whole lot of you, rubbing against me.” He straightened, his grip tightening on her arms. “And it's making me crazy.”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded. “Same here.”

That made him give her a double take. “So what are we going to do about it?”

She shrugged, her breasts rubbing up and down on him.

Sweet Jesus.
She was killing him.

“There's only one thing we can do.”

“Yeah? Then tell me. I've never been good at guessing what goes on in a woman's mind. And will you make it quick? I'm about to come undone.”

“This.” She wrapped one hand around his neck and pulled his head down so that she could press her lips to his. “And this.” Her other hand slid down his back to his buttocks, cupping him and pressing him closer. “You see, I figure there's a physical attraction here.”

“You think?” He groaned, let go of her arms and skimmed his hands down the curve of her waist. He trailed his fingers over the swell of her hips and cupped the backs of her thighs. In one smooth motion, he lifted her, wrapping her legs around him, pressing her back against the tiles. “What was your first clue?”

“The kiss.” She brushed her mouth across his. “Maybe if we get the elephant in the room out of the way once and for all, we can concentrate on what's more important.”

“I like the way you think.” He positioned her over his swollen member, ready to drive the point home.

Tracie's hands on his shoulders pressed down and she hovered over him. “One thing...”

His heart hammering against his chest, adrenaline and lust raging through his veins, Rip could barely hear her through the blood pounding in his ears. “What thing?”

“Protection?” she said. “I don't suppose you have some?”

His body on fire, his brain disengaged, it took a moment for Rip to realize what she was saying. “Damn.”

“Damn you have to stop to get it or damn you didn't bring any?”

“Damn to both.” He buried his face in her neck and moaned. “I had some in my old wallet. Not in the new one.”

“This bathroom has just about everything a guest could want...you don't suppose...”

Rip set Tracie on her feet and dove out of the shower, nearly slipping on the tiled floors. Trailing water everywhere he stepped, he riffled through the drawers one at a time.

One had extra washcloths, another had an array of bath salts. Still another had unopened tubes of toothpaste and individually wrapped toothbrushes. When he'd just about given up, Rip opened the bottom drawer in the farthest cabinet and found a supply of lubricants in every flavor imaginable and at least two-dozen foil packages.

He was back in the shower carrying his prize, his ardor no less urgent.

But Tracie had the washcloth draped over her front, barely covering the important parts.

Rip sighed. “Nothing like an important interruption to kill the mood, right?”

She shook her head. “No. I'm perfectly prepared to go through with this.” Letting the washcloth fall to the floor, she stepped forward, holding out her hand. “Let me. I'm sure that as soon as we get this over with, we won't be nearly as distracted.”

Rip held the packet out of her reach. “You make this sound like the cure to a disease.”

“Well, in a way, it is. Once we...do it...it will take away the mystery and we won't be thinking about what it might be like. We can get on with our purpose for being here without unnecessary distraction.”

He could see where her thoughts were headed, but her logic was faulty. Once they consummated their relationship, it would only be the beginning. He already knew he'd want more. By the look on Tracie's face, she thought this would be the end and they'd put their physical attraction for each other to bed, so to speak.

Tracie propped her hand on her hip, a worried frown denting her forehead. “Don't you want to have sex?”

Water ran over her shoulders and dripped off the tips of her dusky rose nipples.

Oh, yeah, he wanted it.

He had to clear his throat to answer. “Yes, I do.” His member couldn't get any harder. “But, honey, this won't stop here.”

“It has to. We are consenting adults with jobs that take us to the ends of the earth. Most likely we won't see each other again. Besides, I'm not interested in anything more than a one-night stand.”

A spike of anger jolted through Rip. “Isn't that the man's line?”

“I've been there. Once the lust fades, all you have is regret, and both individuals looking for a way out without hurting the other.”

Though he wanted her, Rip knew this was all wrong. “Baby, I don't know who hurt you in the past, but that's not how it works with me.” He stepped back, turned and left the shower and her in it.

A sloppy, wet slap sounded behind him and he spun to find a wet washcloth on the floor near his feet. Grumbling echoed inside the shower.

Let her stew. He had some thinking of his own to do. And his thoughts were clearer away from her.

* * *

T
RACIE
STOOD
IN
the shower, steaming hotter than the water. What just happened? She'd given the SEAL permission to make love to her with no strings attached, demanding no promises for the future. Most men would grab at that opportunity and accept what she was offering, no hesitation.

Not Rip.

She wanted to rant and rave and throw a whopping temper tantrum like a five-year-old deprived of her favorite doll. Only she wasn't five, and she had been all lathered up and ready for some hot and heavy sex. Frustrated beyond anything she'd ever felt she turned the handle on the faucet. Cold water sluiced over her body. Her breath caught in her throat and she shivered, but remained standing in the cool water until the heat of her desire chilled and she could think beyond the sight of Rip's rippling muscles and stiff erection.

Damn. What was wrong with the man?

Or was it her? He didn't desire her enough to take her up on her offer? No, he'd been just as turned on by her as she was by him.

She shut off the water and peeked around the corner of the shower stall. The bathroom was empty of the man she couldn't get out of her thoughts.

Quickly drying off, she slipped her arms into the robe and pulled it over her body, cinching the belt around her middle before gripping the door handle. Sucking in a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, determined not to show any of her disappointment over Rip's blatant rejection.

Pulling the door open, she stepped through, her chin tilted at a slight angle, determined not to show any emotion to the man.

Tense and slightly hesitant, she stepped out of the bathroom into the bedroom, her belly tight. Her breath caught and held.

The room was as empty as the bathroom. Rip had left.

All the air left her lungs, and a deep sense of disappointment washed over her. Good grief. Had she scared him so badly he'd tucked his tail and run from the room? Wow. Way to shoot a girl down.

Her ego completely deflated, Tracie flopped on the bed, wearing the silk robe and nothing else. Maybe if Rip came back soon, he'd rethink his refusal, part the edges of the robe and take her.

Her heartbeat kicked up a notch and her breathing quickened. Every time she heard a noise, she hoped it was coming from the hallway. At one point she heard footsteps on the tiles outside her door. They paused. She held her breath in eager anticipation, her groin tightening, her body tense.

Then the footsteps moved on.

Releasing the breath she'd been holding, Tracie rolled to her side, tucked her hand beneath her cheek and closed her eyes. If she wasn't going to get the sex she needed to slake her appetite for the man, the least she could do was rest up. She didn't know when they'd head out of the compound in search of the rebel fighters...er...investment property, but she wanted to be ready when they did. Rip had warned her that the guerilla fighters were dangerous and would prefer to shoot first and question later.

She lay with her eyes closed, willing herself to sleep, but the scene in the shower keep replaying against the backs of her eyelids. If she'd kept her mouth shut, she'd be in the middle of what she guessed might have been the best sex of her life.

Rip would be a superb lover. Rough but gentle, aware and insistent on satisfying her needs, the complete opposite of her former fiancé.

She'd met Bruce Masterson on the job when she'd been an FBI special agent. They'd worked a case together and Tracie had been infatuated with him. Still fairly new as an agent, she'd looked up to the man who had several more years experience than she did.

Unfortunately, she'd mistaken infatuation for love and had agreed to marry the bastard before she realized he was linked with one of the deadliest and most traitorous men smuggling drugs and trafficking women and children into the United States: their regional director.