More Than a Mission (4 page)

This time his reaction to her statement was quite physical. His shoulders tensed and a muscle ticked ominously along his jaw. “Rome, huh?” he asked as, with almost exaggerated care, he placed the bottle back onto the wooden rack.

“Yes. A beautiful city. Have you ever been there?” she asked, wondering if there was something about that city that bothered him.

He faced her, the hard set of his jaw relaxing a little, and shrugged. “No. I tend to stay to the coasts since I like the water.”

“Surf much?” Her question coaxed back that little-boy smile.

“Surf. Swim. Fish. I'm an ocean kind of guy.”

“Leonia's a good place for all of that,” she said and headed for the stairs once more, needing to get to work.

“I'll keep that in mind while I'm here, as well as the gym,” Aidan said and followed the attractive sway of her hips all the way up to the kitchen level. The lady had a nice ass and being a guy, he wasn't about to ignore the view.

Once they were back in the kitchen, she made a beeline for the prep table, where Natalie and another young woman were busily laying out a variety of ingredients. Elizabeth joined them, suggesting one thing or another and giving instructions. Her tone with them was patient and friendly. Despite her easy demeanor, however, her mind now seemed totally on the work that needed to be done.

Which was perfect for him. He strolled to the large refrigerators in the kitchen, checking out the surroundings to see where he could place a camera. A speaker up at one side of the kitchen caught his eye after he had removed some limes and lemons from the fridge and was returning to the bar.

Perfect, he thought. He'd have to wait for a lull in activity in the kitchen first, but since they were all so busy there now, it gave him a perfect opportunity in the cellar. Grabbing a menu and a pad of paper as if to take notes, he went back down to the cellar unnoticed and once there, walked to the farthest part of the room, near the safe and lockers.

The lockers were like those you would find in a gym or a school. He opened the first few to find some empty and some holding assorted clothes and bags, possibly belonging to Elizabeth's staff. The last one had an ordinary combination lock that might not take much time to pick. He noted the make, model and serial number to see if there was a way to get a master key to simplify things.

Next, he turned his attention to the safe. Big, gray and old. A bit of rust along the edges, likely as a result of the sea air and dampness in the cellar. Despite that, the lock spun freely and the safe was in generally good condition. Again, he noted the information on the safe in the hopes of getting inside next time he could.

He suspected the safe would hold what most businesses would safeguard—important papers, cash and the like. But he wondered what else it and the locker might hold that wasn't related to the restaurant. The Sparrow's records and weapons?

A noise from above reminded him he had to get moving. Shifting back to the first locker, he found a spot for the camera.

“Lucia, come in Lucia,” he said after he had finished positioning the surveillance equipment.

“Perfect shot. I can see the entire cellar.”

“Did you see the label on the wine?” he asked and walked back over to the racks, where he once again pulled out the bottle he had been inspecting earlier.

“A little unclear,” Lucia advised.

A harsh sigh escaped him before he said, “It's clear to me. This was one of Mitch's favorites.”

E
lizabeth stretched a kink out of her back. Just a few hours to go until the start of the dinner service and everything was in order and ready. Which meant that she'd better take her afternoon break.

Natalie and Susanna, another of her assistants, had already left for some rest. Both young women lived nearby, as did most of the staff she employed. Which made her question where Aidan would drift?

She ambled toward the front of the building, but he had already departed. Not out of the ordinary, but she got a sense of something not right with him. It made her wonder if he was in trouble. If that was the reason he moved from place to place, never putting down roots. She made a mental note to ask him for some references if he survived his first night on the job.

Closing up, she went to her cottage, changed into jogging clothes and checked out the tide. Low enough still that she could run along the shore instead of the hard asphalt road toward the center of town.

Even though she stayed on the wetter hard-packed sand, her heels dug deep with the force of her strides and so she pushed a little harder. Her arms pumped as she ran, passing behind the main buildings in town and the public access ramps to the beach. As she skirted a protective stone jetty close to the old Roman bridge before turning around, a fine sweat glistened on her bare arms and legs from her exertions.

 

“Elvis has left the building,” Lucia called out from the central area of the suite.

Aidan put down the microchip he had been laboring over and walked out to view the now-empty rooms of the restaurant from the monitors Lucia had set up in the common space of their quarters.

Grabbing a set of binoculars, he rushed to the corner of the hotel room, grateful that Corbett Lazlo had thought to rent a space with windows that faced the shore and the restaurant. Scoping out the area with the high-powered binoculars, he tried to locate the Sparrow, but couldn't.

“Damn. I'll have to get something in the cottage so we can monitor her better.”

Lucia joined him at the windows, another pair of binoculars in hand. “Is that where you think she is?”

Aidan looked at his watch. “It's only three, so she's got a bit of time until she needs to get dinner going. She could be anywhere, but my money is on the cottage. She strikes me as a homebody.”

“When she isn't busy being an assassin?” Lucia tossed out.

“So you're finally convinced it's her?” he asked and glanced over at his colleague.

Lucia shook her head before bringing up the binoculars once again. “Either that or there's a hell of a lot of coincidences.”

“Hmm.” He turned his attention to searching out the grounds of the restaurant and the cottage, but he could see nothing.

A moment later, however, Lucia chuckled loudly. “A homebody, huh?”

Aidan stepped to her side and tracked the line of sight of Lucia's binoculars. He caught the blur of movement along the shore. Training his binoculars on the area, he increased the magnification until he could finally identify Elizabeth.

She was running. He couldn't call it jogging since the pace was too fast. Almost punishing. Her arms pumped smoothly while the hair swept up in a pony tail bounced in rhythm to her long and graceful strides. A cropped dark-maroon T-shirt was plastered to her body by a combination of sweat and a breeze.

She was cold.

He grew increasingly interested as he noticed even more about her. The firm muscles at her midriff and legs shifting and bunching. The running shorts she wore weren't scant, but her legs were long for her height. Very long, which brought disturbing visions of what she could do with those legs.

He groaned.

“Aidan?” he heard from beside him and realized Lucia had been talking to him.

“What? I'm sorry. I was concentrating.”

“You are such a guy,” she teased with a wide smile.

He had to shake his head and laugh. There was just something refreshing about Lucia's forthrightness when you were used to dealing with people who were generally deceptive.

Like the woman running along the shore, he reminded himself, fighting her sexual pull.

“Okay, so she's…cute,” he confessed.

Lucia laughed and let her binoculars drop down on the strap hanging around her neck. “I hope you're a more convincing liar when you're around her.”

“You'll find out soon enough,” he said and headed to his room, intent on testing the waters in more ways than one.

 

Elizabeth was nearly back to the cottage when she noticed first the lone swimmer moving toward her from the docks and then the pile of clothes and towel sitting on the beach just behind her home.

Finishing her jog, she paused by the towel and placed her hands on her hips, took a few deep breaths as she watched the swimmer head into shore. His strokes were sure and even. They propelled him through the water elegantly as his head turned from side to side in a rhythmic breathing pattern.

She recognized that head, she realized—Aidan. This was confirmed as he reached the shallows and got caught up in a surge of water. He body-surfed the wave in before he rose up out of the wash of the breakers.

Elizabeth gulped and this time, had to force herself to breathe. He was all lean muscle and athletic grace. As he headed toward shore, he picked up his arms to slick back the longer strands of his hair from his face and all that muscle rippled beneath smooth tanned skin. He wasn't wearing the loose shorts that so many American men wore, but a sinfully slinky Speedo that barely covered him. Barely being the operative word.

Breathe, girl. Breathe. She fanned her face and blamed the hot flash on her jog.

He smiled as he noticed her and hurried from the water, jumping over one wave and then battling the backward pull of the wash until he was standing before her. “You were right about how great the waters are. Although a little rough in spots.”

“The swimming and surfing beaches are up more toward town. It's a little rocky here. You've cut yourself,” she said and motioned to a raw scrape along his collarbone. “Let's get that cleaned.”

Aidan looked down to where a bit of blood mingled with the salt water and ran down his chest. He hadn't planned it that way, but he wouldn't waste a prime opportunity. Especially since he had noticed how she was checking him out as he had come onto shore. “I'll be fine,” he said and met her gaze directly.

She blushed and stammered, “W-we really should clean it. You wouldn't want it to get infected.”

Again it occurred to him that she was too easy to read, but then again, he hadn't been all that obscure up in the hotel room with Lucia. Was it a cosmic joke that they should both obviously find themselves attracted to one another? Spy
v.
Spy Sexcapades before they had to do each other in?

“Thanks,” he said, bending to pick up his clothes and looping the towel over his shoulders. She walked toward the cottage but didn't offer to let him in as he had expected. As he had hoped, since in the pocket of his pants, he had another set of cameras ready to install. Instead, she pointed to a rustic outdoor shower by the back door.

“Rinse off over there while I get some first aid stuff.”

Elizabeth walked into the cottage and he waited for her to return before he stepped beneath the shower and turned on the water. He wanted an audience for his show. When he was certain she was observing him, he made a point of getting good and wet. Slick. Then, he ran his hands all along his body, as if wiping away some dirt, and as he did so, he could feel her gaze on him, tracking his every movement.

Knowing she was a voyeur to his little act brought an immediate and unwanted reaction. The upside of it was that in turn, his rather obvious excitement created a riot of color along Elizabeth's cheeks. She ripped her gaze from him then and nervously fingered the plastic box in her hands—the first aid kit.

He stopped and shut off the water, grabbed his towel and dried himself as he walked toward her. He toyed with the idea of wrapping the towel around his waist, but decided against it. In this game, you used every advantage available.

She had put the kit on a low stone wall by the shower and was fumbling with opening it as he approached.

“Here, let me,” he said and took the kit from her hands, opened it and laid it back on top of the wall. He removed a tube of antiseptic cream, squeezed a little onto his finger. Working it into the scrape, he made sure to skip a section so that it might require her further attention.

“There.” He was closing the tube when she reached out and took it from his hands.

“You missed a spot.”

Bingo, he thought.

She placed a dot of the cream on her index finger and after, rubbed that finger along the top portion of the scrape. The action brought her close and he lowered his head, got into her personal space. Despite her run, she still smelled fresh. Feminine, although there was no hint of any perfume. An assassin couldn't afford to leave even something as simple as a scent behind, Aidan realized, but then turned his attention back to her, putting himself where she couldn't avoid him.

Elizabeth stroked the cream into the scrape. His skin was warm beneath her finger. As she skipped her gaze up to his face, she finally realized how close they were. And that she had to reach past him and brush even closer to remove a bandage from the kit. She didn't hesitate leaning toward him, even though her breast brushed his chest as she did so.

Her nipple, already peaked from the chill of the ocean breeze, tightened even more and she shivered.

“Cold?” he asked and rubbed his hands across her bare arms to warm her. It only brought another shiver. One that came from another place she didn't want to acknowledge, so she pulled away from him and shot him a glare. He was obviously used to playing this game quite well, but she didn't intend to be another notch acquired in his wanderings.

“Don't touch, remember?”

Aidan didn't push, although she could see that he was tempted to find out just how far he could.

Stepping away from her, he held his hands up as if in surrender. “I get it. Thanks for the help.” With that, he grabbed his clothes, walked back to the beachfront and turned toward town.

Elizabeth watched him go and wondered whether hiring him had been a mistake. She'd hoped getting a bartender would solve her problem, but this guy…

As she watched his Speedo-clad backside saunter away, it confirmed her original impression that he would be nothing but trouble. When he turned, caught her observing him…again…and winked, she knew she was right.

Aidan was going to give her nothing but grief. She had to keep a close eye on him. She couldn't afford to let him get close or to work his way into her heart. The price to be paid for that was just too great.