Her Only Desire (6 page)

Both men wore self-satisfied expressions, lips curved in faint smiles, eyes narrowing as they studied her.

Four hours, he’d said. At this moment, she wished she’d worn something frumpy and thick. Wished she’d ignored the knock at her door. Only now did she wonder to what had she really agreed.

* * *

By the time they’d touched down on a concrete airstrip at their destination, her nerves were raw. The door opened and white-hot air took her breath away. Once she’d moved from the helicopter, she opened her jaws, trying to pop her ears. The roar of the helicopter’s engine was still inside her head.

Serge handed Tilly her purse.

Boone touched her elbow and led her to a waiting car, a black Esplanade with tinted windows.

Another two vehicles flanked the car, armed guards standing near the doors.

When she noticed the military-style weapons, her heart skipped a beat. But they were in Mexico now. Trusting Boone to know what was necessary, she allowed him to seat her inside the car between himself and Serge. They sat so close, both men’s thighs touched hers. Her skin rose in goose bumps.

Tilly frowned and tugged at her skirt, which was trapped beneath Serge’s leg.

“Sorry,” he said, lifting so she could free her garment. “You only had to ask, Ms. Floret.”

Boone patted her thigh, drawing her attention to where his hand rested on her leg, then up to meet his gaze. Feeling rather like a butterfly beneath a magnifying glass, she kept silent, sure she’d only manage to say something that would make him laugh. She was tired and irritated—and afraid.

Not for her physical safety, but by the fact she was dependent on him here for everything. Other than what she wore, she had no clothing, no toiletries. She didn’t speak the language, didn’t know what to expect when they arrived at the villa. He’d said he’d hired her for her professional services, but the way he’d spoken those words made her want to shout
those
services couldn’t be purchased.

But they could be wooed. From the moment he’d arrived on her doorstep, she’d been hyperaware of every aspect of his appearance and actions. Although he was dressed in a dress shirt and trousers, a typical businessman’s attire, his posture and expression were wary, alert to their surroundings, to her every reaction. The breadth of his shoulders, the solid build of his body should have been reassuring, because she had no doubts he could handle any danger that might befall them. But his undeniable masculinity also disconcerted her.

She imagined being at his mercy, bending to his will. The thought didn’t frighten her. The possibility thrilled her to her toes. Boone Benoit was a dangerous man in more ways than she’d ever imagined.

The entire trip, while she’d ignored him and his VP of security, she’d imagined him shirtless at poolside, catching him naked coming from his shower. Any number of possible scenarios where she might be caught blushing like a virgin or wiping drool from her chin. She’d never dated a man like him—so powerful or damnably intuitive. Damn, she was going to make a fool of herself. She just knew it.

They drove through mountains sparsely peppered with crooked trees and limestone rock outcroppings. Their caravan followed a narrow road that hugged the side of a mountain, winding downward toward a green valley with a small village nestled at the bottom. They passed crowded streets with rough shanties, and then rose to the opposite side of the valley where large estates dotted the hilltops.

When they turned into an estate enclosed by a tall, stuccoed concrete wall, she couldn’t resist gawking as the gates opened quietly by remote, and they drove into a compound with a large cobblestone courtyard. Deep red Hibiscus flowers grew in pots lining an alcove entrance. Purple bougainvillea bloomed in profusion, draping from a red-tiled roof.

Once more, with her hand tucked into the corner of his arm, she allowed Boone to escort her inside. Cool, pine-scented air greeted her. Saltillo tiles clicked beneath her sandals. The walls were creamy beige, the furnishings heavy and dark.

A brunette woman dressed in a crisp sleeveless white blouse and pencil-thin, charcoal-gray skirt approached. Her gray eyes swept Tilly’s frame, then she gave Boone a cool nod. “You should find everything ready, Mr. Benoit.”

“Thanks, Beatrice. Have Alejandro and the Peterson Group reps arrived?”

“Yes, sir. They’re in the conference room.”

He drew in a deep breath and dropped his arm, turning to Tilly, his expression, disappointingly, all business. “Beatrice will show you to your room. If our meeting lasts past dinner, help yourself to anything in the kitchen, or pick up any phone. Someone will be there straightaway to see to your needs. If you want to swim, don’t worry if you don’t see anyone around. Security is discreet. You’ll be safe.”

He left without a backward glance, Serge following, a finger touching a Bluetooth hooked over his ear. “The Tex-Oil point man’s arrived as well, Boone. They’re reviewing the kidnappers’ demands now.”

Kidnappers? That’s what this was about? From her online research of his company, she knew this was one aspect of his business, but knowing and
really
knowing were two completely different things. The thought that Boone was the man companies and families turned to in such a horrible crisis left her feeling unsettled, and even a little proud. Boone wasn’t what everyone back in Bayou Vert thought. He was a man who’d made saving people his life’s work.

When the door shut behind both men, Tilly breathed freely for the first time since Boone had stepped through her doorway. Tension drained slowly away. Oddly, his absence left a hollow feeling.

“Mr. Benoit’s staff phoned in your particulars,” Beatrice said, her words more clipped than before. “I’ll show you to your room. Let me know if anything in the closet doesn’t fit.”

Her particulars? What did she mean? Tilly turned her head to find Beatrice’s hard gaze staring back.

The woman turned on her neat gray heels and led the way through a spacious living room to a long hallway with several closed doors. At the end, she opened a door and stood to the side, allowing Tilly to enter.

Tilly wasn’t given to frills and floral, but the pale violet wallpaper with its sprigs of white flowers and green leaves appealed, as quintessentially feminine as the rest of the house was starkly masculine. The furnishings were a dark mahogany—a raised rice bed covered by a sumptuous sage-green duvet; a tall highboy; a vanity bedecked with exotic bottles she couldn’t wait to unstopper and sniff. Beneath her feet was a lush, looped wool area rug in a dark sage. Tilly walked to French doors overlooking another, smaller courtyard with a bronze table-and-chair set and wicker chaise. More bougainvillea draped the exterior wall.

Beatrice’s heels tapped behind her. “The gate in the far wall leads to the pool.” She stepped beside her elbow and pointed to the wall of closets. “There are several bathing suits inside to choose from. Towels are in the bathroom. A pitcher of lemonade is on the table outside. You can take a glass to the pool. Enjoy the sun. But be sure to use plenty of sunscreen. Boone wouldn’t like you getting burned.”

The quick thrill she’d felt at the thought that Boone might care whether she burned was quickly doused by the other woman’s demeanor. Her tone was crisply professional, but she stood so close, Tilly knew she was deliberately trying to intimidate her. The woman’s clothing was a much higher quality than the plain sundress she wore. Her skin, hair, and nails were perfectly groomed. The hard stare she gave Tilly spoke volumes of her opinion of the reason for Tilly’s presence.

Tilly straightened her shoulders. “Thank you. That will be all,” she said quietly, holding herself still until Beatrice’s dark eyes snapped with anger.

But the other woman gave her a blunt nod and backed away.

Tilly didn’t bother watching her leave, grateful to at last be alone. Good Lord, the woman’s antipathy toward her had been palpable. She was clearly jealous. Was she an ex-lover? Would Tilly be tripping over ex-lovers during her stay? Anger at Boone for putting her in this situation flared. For a while, she’d actually felt a little special when he’d turned his attention on her. She walked to the closet and slid back the white doors, surprised to find the closet deeper than she’d expected. Most of the rungs were empty. So no one used this closet on a regular basis. At least, no one now.

But several outfits hung before her—dresses, slacks, blouses, a sari, and all the accessories, shoes, bags, scarves she might need—in colors that would complement her tanned skin and pale hair. When her gaze lit on the bathing suits, she fingered the scantier ones, but passed them up for a tankini with matching bikini bottoms in a dark navy. She stripped where she stood, donning the suit and stepping into a pair of dark flip-flops. Everything fit perfectly—not something she wanted to contemplate right that moment.

He’d said she could treat this little jaunt like a minivacation. So while he worked, she’d explore. Grabbing the sari, she wrapped it around her hips and tied it in a knot. He’d also said she needn’t worry about her safety. However, she did wonder about her privacy.

Boone didn’t leave anything to chance. He’d had her clothing checked for size, then new items ordered while they were still in the air. During the flight, he’d arranged for her things to be moved to the foreman’s house and her lease terminated. A fact that made backing out of their agreement now extremely awkward, almost impossible.

What had seemed like a boast, that he could make anything possible, now appeared to be true. If he decided he wanted her for more than her “professional services,” how would she ever say yes and not wonder whether her surrender was something he considered his due? The thought appalled, because a scenario where she said yes was too easy to envision.

By midafternoon, a payment had been negotiated with the Los Omegas cartel for the release of two Tex-Oil middle-management employees snatched en route to their Mexico City offices the previous morning. The suits overseeing Tex-Oil interests in the negotiations weren’t happy with the amount. The Peterson Group reps, the insurance company that supplied kidnapping and ransom coverage to Tex-Oil, indicated their willingness to wire funds to a Cayman Island account to pay for the men’s release.

Boone wasn’t convinced the deal was solid. The cartel had agreed too readily. Dread settled in his gut. He didn’t like feeling this way, didn’t like imagining what the families of the missing men must be going through. But he wasn’t being paid to worry. His mission was keeping laser focus on the recovery effort. Boone firmed his jaw and glanced at his point man, Alejandro Mata, who sat slumped in his chair, his fingers steepled and his expression hard as granite.

“What more do you want?” one of the insurance company reps asked. “They’ve given us proof of life.”

“Doesn’t feel right,” Alejandro said, echoing Boone’s thoughts. “When they call tonight with the account information, we’ll agree to two payments. The first, a quarter of the funds, paid to them now in goodwill. The second payment comes upon the handoff of the men.” Although he didn’t need Boone’s approval, he glanced his way.

Boone nodded, uneasy with the never-ending waiting game. He didn’t like the fact the only option they had so far was to play the kidnappers’ game and give in to their demands. “They hold all the cards. We haven’t been able to find their trail, and have no idea which faction of the cartel is even holding them. The operation was well organized. After the grab, they left so many trails we wasted time following every single lead. Their transmissions are scrambled. If anything happened to the phone they left at the scene, we wouldn’t have had a hope of communicating.”

“It’s pretty damn slick,” Alejandro muttered with a flip of a hand. “A grab in broad daylight. A driver in your employ who passed every security check.”

“Maybe your background checks aren’t that good,” the leader of the Tex-Oil team snarled.

Boone refused to show his irritation and met the man’s glare with a steely look. “Our screenings are the best in the business. We didn’t stop with the driver—we vetted his entire family. And we’ve been thorough with surveillance ever since the abduction. His nephew doesn’t get on the school bus without one of our people watching. But local cops are involved in this. Likely federal troops as well. It’s too professional.” Without giving the man a chance to rebut, he glanced back to Alejandro. “You’ll handle the response?”

Alejandro gave him a solemn nod. “We’re moving the response team again. Making sure the cartel can’t find us either.”

“Good.” Boone shot a glance farther down the table at Miguel Torres, an ex–Delta Force soldier who was the response team leader for Tex-Oil. Boone gave the man a steady stare. “Any concerns we haven’t addressed?”

“None,” Torres said, his tone clipped and professional. “Alejandro and I are in lockstep for the duration. So long as the suits let us handle it,” he said, tipping his head toward the executives who glared in frustration, “we’ll be fine.”

Boone glanced at his watch, and then back to the oil execs. Satisfied they’d done all they could at this point, he moved to end the meeting. “We’ll be in touch. Be ready to wire the cash as soon as you hear from us.” He pushed away from the table, walked to the door, and entered the code to unlock it.

The conference room was hardened against attack, a panic room with a steel-reinforced skeleton, sensors to test the air coming from its own dedicated air-conditioning unit, and an arsenal of weapons hidden in the base of the long ebony conference table.

His presence hadn’t been required for this meeting. Alejandro was his Mexican bureau chief and plenty experienced in K&R coordination. He’d been with Boone since he’d started the company, and was another member of his old SEAL unit whom he’d hired straight after leaving active duty. However, with the continued turbulence in the region, Boone liked to make a show, reassure the executives he still had his finger on the pulse of his company, however far-flung its assets. The security services division operated on trust. He’d earned it over the years for successful, discreet negotiations, and for mounting paramilitary operations for rescues when situations warranted. So far, this one hadn’t blown up.

Relocking the door, he headed down the closed-in breezeway to the main house and let himself in.

Beatrice, who’d been monitoring the comings and goings of his guests, waited in the living room. She turned in her swivel chair at the desk where she’d been working. “I assume all’s going well.”

“I wouldn’t be ducking out if it weren’t.”

She flushed. “Your other guest is at the pool,” she said, gesturing toward her computer monitor with the feed in the corner of the screen where she’d been keeping track of Tilly’s whereabouts.

He nodded his thanks. “We’ll be dining in tonight. Alone.”

She gave him a polite smile.

One that didn’t reach her eyes.

Boone made a mental note that Beatrice was due a promotion. A position that moved her out of his immediate influence. She’d become a little too familiar. Had overstepped her bounds a couple of times already, assuming a closer relationship than he’d tolerate. “You’re free for the rest of the day. Serge is on watch. Take one of the cars and do some shopping. Use the company card if you like.”

Her back stiffening, she arched a brow. “Thank you,
sir
.”

The emphasis she placed on the last word, one she rarely used as the staff closest to him always called him Boone, fired anger inside him. She was well aware of his sexual proclivities, having often called to book his room at The Platform and half a dozen exclusive clubs around the world. He’d never invited her.
Would never.
He wondered if her nose was out of joint because she’d assumed Tilly was a submissive he’d brought along for sex play.

He left her standing in the living room and walked down the hallway toward his own bedroom. Taking only a few moments, he donned swimming trunks and let himself out the garden gate.

The sun was intense. He hoped Tilly had made use of one of the beach umbrellas. If she’d let herself burn, he wouldn’t be pleased. His lips twitched at the thought of a suitable punishment. Something subtle that she wouldn’t recognize as such.

But he needn’t have worried. She lay on a hammock beneath an umbrella, sleeping. One cheek was pressed against the knotted ropes. Her skin was flushed, but from heat, not excessive sunning. Not surprising, she’d chosen the most demure of the bathing suits he’d ordered.

He glanced to the table beside her and noted an insulated thermos was on the table, the glass beside it half-filled. So she’d hydrated. Boone stepped close and placed his hand on her bare calf. A light touch, which didn’t waken her.

Giving into temptation, he smoothed a hand across her warm skin. Soft and creamy. The sunscreen she’d applied smelled faintly of mangos. He gave her skin another caress.

She gasped and raised her head, her eyes blinking away sleep as she realized who’d touched her. “Boone,” she said, her tone husky.

He slid away his hand. “I wondered if you’d like to join me for a swim,” he said, smiling because one of her cheeks bore deep indents from the hammock’s webbing.

Stretching her arms over her head, she gave a huge yawn. “I wasn’t comfortable going in alone. What if I cramped?”

He grinned. “I’ll keep you safe.” The statement stirred something inside, confusing him for a moment, and he pushed away the feeling before holding out his hand.

Tilly stared for a moment, but then accepted it and swung her legs over the side of the hammock. The moment she stood, she pulled away. They walked to pool’s edge, a foot of space between their swinging hands.

Boone shoved to the back of his mind that staff watched them via cameras mounted in trees surrounding the pool. He never really gave the surveillance a second thought, but he knew Tilly would consider it an invasion of her privacy. Given the world he operated in, the loss of privacy was necessary.

Nearing a natural rock outcropping overlapping the pool, he cast a sideways glance. “You’ll have to lose the sarong.”

“Hell. I showed more of my ass in my Daisy Dukes,” she muttered under her breath. Unknotting the garment, she let it fall to the ground, and then stood, her hands balling at her sides.

“You’re lovely. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

A snort sounded. “I’ve seen pictures on the Internet of the size twos you date.” She widened her arms. “I’m considerably larger.”

“You’re a healthy girl. With curves a man appreciates.”

“Okay,” she said, blowing out a deep breath. “If I wasn’t feeling self-conscious before, I am now.” She gave a little laugh.

A grin tugged the corners of his mouth. “Let’s see if the suit can withstand a little salt water.”

“What’s it made of?” She grinned. “Do you think it might dissolve?”

“A man’s entitled to his own fantasies.”

She laughed and climbed down the steps into the pool, deep enough that the water lapped at her smooth thighs. Then she dipped beneath the surface and popped up, glancing down at her suit. “Nope. You’re doomed for disappointment.”

Feeling lighthearted, he dove into the deep end of the pool. He surfaced, found his footing, and glanced around. She stood in the same place, her gaze locked on his frame. Before she looked away, he noted a sparkle of answering heat in her eyes.

Hiding a smile of satisfaction, Boone waved a beckoning hand. “Don’t worry. Join me.”

Again, she dunked down and swam toward him, careful to keep her head above the water.

“Not much of a swimmer?” he asked as she stopped in front of him, dog-paddling.

“I live on the bayou.” She wrinkled her nose. “Snakes, alligators…”

Boone laughed. “Come deeper. I’ll watch out for you. Nothing will nibble at your toes.”
Unless it’s me.

They swam, Tilly venturing into deeper water, bobbing beneath and no longer looking apprehensive. When she rolled to her back and floated, he swam closer, enjoying the view. Her nipples were tight little beads against the thin fabric, her breasts gentle curves. More than anything, he wanted to cup one and see if it would fill his palm. Even more than that, he wanted to hear her gasp of pleasure. But because touching her now wasn’t the smartest plan, he refrained and glanced at her face.

She’d been watching him watching her, and she dropped her lower body and reached up to smooth back her hair. Tension tightened the sides of her mouth. “You really shouldn’t look at me like that. I work for you.”

“Am I making you uncomfortable in an unpleasant way?” he drawled.

Her mouth opened, but then she scrunched her nose. “You had to add that last bit? I could have said yes and it wouldn’t have been a lie.”

“So, in a pleasant way.” Heat pulsed in his veins and he flashed a smile, ruefully aware they were both fighting their attraction.

She shook her head. “This is the oddest corporate induction I’ve ever received.”

Boone shrugged, his casual gesture pure pretense. His attention was locked on its target like a heat-seeking missile and patience wasn’t winning. “You’re rested. You’ve seen a bit of what my life is like. Mission accomplished.”

“Helicopters and secret meetings.” She smiled, but her eyes narrowed on his face. “Do female employees always get this rarefied treatment?”

Boone raised both hands in surrender. “You have me there. I was pleasing myself. I wanted your company.”

She swam to the far side of the pool and climbed onto a rock, pulling up her knees and wrapping her arms around them as her gaze followed him.

Not liking the fact he couldn’t read her expression, he swam closer and hauled himself up beside her. Aware of how close they sat, and how much skin they exposed, he battled with his own body, hoping he wouldn’t betray the intensity of his interest in a way that might embarrass her. “I won’t lie and tell you I don’t hope that we’ll become close,” he said softly. “How close is up to you, Tilly. No pressure.” And as much as it killed him, he meant every word.

She heaved a sigh. Her gaze fell away as her cheeks grew rosy. “Wow, way to put it out there. I think I liked it better just wondering if this was something one-sided.” Her head swung back, gaze meeting his, nearly fearless. “I’m confused. I don’t understand why you’d be interested in me.”

At that moment, Boone felt his age. More than ten years separated them. Life had hardened him, made him sometimes cruel and ruthless. And although he’d begun this seduction as part of his plan to flush out a killer, he wanted none of the bitter ruthlessness to touch her. Tilly was showing an unexpected courage. She was being honest, displaying that innocent curiosity he found so enticing. But how could he answer her in kind? How could he be truthful? “You’re beautiful,” he said, and then grimaced inside, because while it was true, it wasn’t the reason he was interested in her. The answer was becoming very complicated.

“Size twos…” she sang back, her chin lifting higher.

He narrowed his gaze. “You’re someone from my home,” he said, nearing the truth. “I’ve been away a long time. You know the circumstances that forced to me to leave, and yet you don’t look at me with accusations in your eyes. I find that intriguing.”

Her gaze fell again. “You must know who I am.”

“Celeste’s cousin,” he said quietly. “You’re similar in appearance, but you couldn’t be further apart in personality. I have a type I’m attracted to,” he said with a self-mocking smile, “and you’re not it.” He let his gaze sweep her frame. “However, I approve of the differences, Tilly. There’s nothing more important to you than family. You’re loyal. Smart. Ambitious too, although your mother’s illness interrupted your life before you were able to realize your ambitions. I can offer you another path.”

Her breath left in a slow exhale. “And I have to wonder—at what price, Boone Benoit?”

The directness of her question and her unwavering blue gaze took his breath away. How could he tell her he’d give her anything she wanted not to change? Not to learn to despise him? And she worried what her involvement with him might cost her? Boone cleared his throat. “Do you want your brother to join you on the estate?”