Undercover Virgin (7 page)

"I want to go up on the deck," she said, turning toward the ladder.

The roof of the houseboat doubled as a sundeck with chairs, tables and an attached sliding board for swimmers. Kyle took another sweeping glance around the area, noting that all was still quiet. He followed Rianna up the ladder, feeling his body respond to the sight of her shapely bottom, clad only in gym shorts that left a whole lot of leg exposed. Smooth, sleek legs that could feed a man's fantasies.

He forced himself to concentrate on security. "You can't get too comfortable up here. We're as close to being sitting ducks as we can get."

"I suppose," she said, easing
herself
onto a lounge chair and stretching out her legs. "But it's just about the most perfect spot anyone could want to be."

Kyle had to agree. He settled into the chair opposite her and allowed himself to relax a little. The sun was beginning to sparkle on the water, burning off the morning haze. The waves were gently lapping at the boat in a peaceful rocking motion. Birds were singing as gulls squalled and dove for breakfast. The morning was clear and bright with a slight nip in the air.

"Are you warm enough?"

"I'm chilly, but it's invigorating, not uncomfortable."

He nodded, feeling the same. The sun would warm them before too long. It had already cleared the horizon and was moving upward like a brilliant ball of fire.

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying their coffee and absorbing the peaceful beauty around them. Neither of them had known much peace these past few weeks, so it seemed a rare and welcome pleasure.

"I guess I really conked out on you last night. You didn't have any problems, did you?"

"Not a thing. I explored a little, had something to eat and did some fishing."

"Did you see anything out of the ordinary?"

"Just a few other boats and some late-night fishermen. Nothing suspicious or threatening."

Rianna sighed, resting her head against the back of the chair and closing her eyes. "Sounds wonderfully dull."

"It was," agreed Kyle, gazing out over the water.

Margie would have loved it here.

The image of his former partner slipped into his thoughts, unbidden. She'd had dark, wild curls that were always out of control. Her eyes had been dark brown, too.

Normally, the memories were too painful, so Kyle kept them buried where they couldn't rub him raw with bitterness and frustration. But Margie had been on his mind a lot during this assignment, a result of working with another female operative.

She'd tackled life head-on, as if it were a great, unending adventure. Born and raised in the city, she'd loved doing anything outdoors, exploring new places and tackling new challenges, but it was that same daring personality that had cost her life.

Even the good memories made his jaw clench and his chest tight. For a long time, he'd been mad as hell at her for risking her life and abandoning him. Now he just felt sad at the loss of her life.
Sad,
and determined that Haroldson should pay.

Shaking his head to dismiss the images, he turned his attention back to Rianna. She could easily distract a man from troubling thoughts. He studied the smooth curve of her cheeks and noticed how perfectly her hair framed her face.

"I'm guessing that's your natural hair."

She reached up to tuck the ends behind her ears. "This is the real thing, and what a relief to be rid of those awful wigs."

"I'll bet. I'm sure glad to be rid of the mustache. It itched like hell."

"And contacts," they chorused, sharing a grin.

Kyle stared into her lovely, smiling eyes for a moment. Their natural color was a mixture of green and gray. It surprised him to realize how much pleasure he derived from just her smile. It warmed him.

The temperature cooled when she averted her gaze. He watched as a frown marred her features, and suddenly wished for the power to keep her safe and smiling. He wanted to destroy anything that threatened her, to eliminate anything that might motivate her to put her life at risk. The depth of the emotion made him edgy and restless.

"How long do you think we'll be able to stay here?" she asked, obviously sensing a need to distract him.

"A few days. Maybe through next weekend. I'm betting Sullivan will want you in D.C. the following week, at the latest."

She nodded and closed her eyes again. Kyle couldn't seem to drag his gaze away from her. He knew it was dangerous to let his attraction escalate, yet he couldn't stem the increasing desire to know what made her tick.

Neither could he ignore the surge of impotent fury he felt every time he thought of her engagement to Haroldson—living in his home, accepting his touch, being intimate with a man twice her age.

How could she do it? How could she sell herself in such an obscene manner? What would make an intelligent, capable woman take on such a compromising assignment? She'd hinted at a deeper reason than ambition, so what could it be?
A family vendetta?

He'd only known her a few days and the questions were eating him alive. He wanted answers, yet knew better than to ask. Even if she'd be willing supply answers, he wasn't sure he could handle the whole truth. Better to guard against caring too much. All that had ever gotten him was more pain and disillusionment.

"I'm starving," Rianna announced, breaking into his grim thoughts. "Since you made the coffee, I'll cook breakfast. Any preference?"

"I'm not particular, but I'm hungry."

"Bacon, eggs and toast?"

"Sounds great."

He watched her rise from the chair and walk across the deck. Her smooth, supple movements had his body stirring in interest again, hungry for more than food. He clamped down hard on the desire and spent the next few minutes trying to convince
himself
that self-denial would make him a better man.

* * *

They pulled up anchor after breakfast, and Rianna took the helm for a couple of hours. There really wasn't much driving involved, she mused, just a gentle steering as the big boat chugged across the water.

Tremont had taken a seat on the small front deck, so her attention shifted back and forth between the lake and him. The temperature had climbed to eighty already. He'd replaced his T-shirt and sweats with a pair of gym shorts. The rest of him was gloriously, tantalizingly naked.

A fine sheen of sweat made his bronze skin shimmer in the sunlight. Every time he moved a muscle, the ropelike flexing sent a frisson of sensation through Rianna. She didn't suppose a woman would ever get tired of looking at his tight, flat stomach or his equally tight rear end.

What she didn't dare do was get too excited about his great body. As much as she'd like to explore every inch of it, she knew it would be a monumental mistake. Her assignment for the agency was far from finished. Even if she survived to testify against Gregory—
which
the odds were against—the trial and appeals could go on for years. She had no business getting involved with anyone.

That didn't mean she couldn't do a little daydreaming about the hunk she'd hooked up with, she thought with a grin. Would he be an impatient lover? Or the slow, thorough sort? Did he like partners who were wild and uninhibited, or shy and innocent? She didn't have any personal experience, but that didn't mean she was totally ignorant about sex. A person could learn a lot through the media these days. Movies, television shows and books were pretty explicit.

Tremont stirred her feminine curiosity more than any man she'd ever met, yet she knew any interest he showed in her would be strictly physical. He wore his emotional detachment like a Mylar vest, shielding his heart.

He chose that minute to reenter the cabin, and Rianna felt a blush rising up her neck. She hoped he didn't have a clue what had prompted her flush.

He offered a convenient excuse. "It's getting a little warm in here, isn't
it.
"

She jumped on it. "Yes, I was just thinking we might want to turn on the AC during the heat of the day."

He moved to the controls and turned on the central air. "I'll set it low enough that it doesn't get cold—just not too hot."

She mumbled her agreement and then turned her attention to the lake again. Tremont stepped behind her, and she was enveloped in the musky male scent of him. He radiated as much heat as the sun, raising her temperature even more. It was all she could do not to fan herself.

As they traversed the main waterway, the traffic was heavier, with ski boats and Jet Skis zipping around on all sides of them. The boat rocked in the rough wake, and he braced himself with hands on her chair. Even the casual brush of his fingers seared her, and she mentally admonished herself to get a grip.

"How about finding us another place to drop anchor. A place with some natural steps or handholds up the embankment would be nice. I'd like to scout around the area this side of the lake. Maybe have a run if I can find a smooth enough path up there."

Rianna steered around the next jutting of land, then another before turning into an uninhabited cove with a boulder-lined bank. She cut the engine and let their boat drift as close to shore as possible.

"The brochure mentions cottages and other rental properties, so I'd think you could find a decent path somewhere near the shoreline," she said.

"I'll try. Are you a jogger?"

"No, but after you're done exploring, I'd like to swim for a while. I'm used to a good daily workout, and I'm getting stiff just sitting so much," she said.

Once she'd shut off the engine, Tremont stepped away, and she drew a calmer breath. He lowered the anchor, and then grabbed a pair of running shoes.

"Keep your gun handy while I'm gone. I won't be more than an hour. If you even suspect trouble, get off the boat."

"I'll be careful. If I need to escape, I'll follow you onto shore and then stay as close as possible until you get back."

"Okay."

They both moved to the front deck, and he dove into the water. Once he surfaced, she handed him his shoes. She noticed socks were tucked in one and a small handgun in the other. He held the shoes over his head as he waded the last few feet to shore. She watched until he'd climbed the steep bank and disappeared into the trees.

Her emotions were mixed about her sexy bodyguard. There was no denying the physical attraction. Though neither of them spoke about it or acted on it, it kept intensifying. It wouldn't be smart to let her increasing desire fog her judgment. There was so much more at stake than personal satisfaction.

She wanted to trust him, yet she'd been trained to consider every angle, the potential risk in every situation. What if Donald Sullivan was wrong about Tremont's reliability? What did she really know about him? Even though his service record was impressive, he'd retired under less than favorable conditions.

What if both sides had enlisted him to keep her under surveillance? Where did his loyalties lie? What if he'd just headed for the nearest pay phone to contact the men who wanted her dead?

Hating the paranoia that had been a part of her life for so long, Rianna shook her head in disgust. She'd have to wait and watch Tremont until she could decide whether or not to trust him. Right now, being with him held more appeal than being alone. She was so tired of being alone.

Thoughts of the loneliness brought memories of her family and their vacation on a similar houseboat. Her brother, Jimmy, had been so full of energy and enthusiasm. He'd wanted to investigate every nook and cranny, to learn how everything worked. He'd wanted to fish and swim and steer the boat. He'd asked a million questions that her parents had patiently answered.

Jimmy had called her Rianna instead of her given name, Marianna. It had been too much of a mouthful for him, so he'd created the nickname. Tremont was the first person she'd mentioned it to in nearly a decade.

She couldn't say why she'd shared it with him, except that she'd grown sick and tired of aliases. Once this case was over, she vowed to find a new line of work: one where she never had to assume another name and identity. With Gregory out of the way, it might finally be possible.

Deciding it was a good time to take stock of the clothing she'd bought, she dragged out shopping bags and sorted through the hastily purchased collection. In addition to a few pairs of shorts and tops, she'd chosen four bikinis, two matching navy-blue ones and two neon-green ones. She set them aside and stashed most of the other clothes into the drawers under her bed.

Her biggest purchase had been panties. She took fourteen pairs of them, plus the bikinis, and moved back into the kitchen. After getting herself a can of soda, she settled down to sew, pausing every few minutes to check for unexpected guests.

Nearly an hour later, she heard Tremont shouting at her from the beach. She went onto the deck and waited until he'd swum close enough to toss his shoes onto the boat. Then she gave him a hand to board.

"Have a nice run?" she asked.

"Yeah. The path's a little rough, but it felt good. Any problems?"

"Nary a one," she said. "I saw a few boats pass by on the main waterway, but nothing came close."

"Good. Ready to swim?"