“This could get really complicated.”
“It already is . . . don’t you feel it?”
“Yeah . . . I do.”
He nodded and leaned down to take her mouth and closed his eyes, breathing in her fresh showered fragrance, tasting cream and sugar and coffee all at the same time this soft woman melted against him. He could feel his hands tremble; she was so delicate, like a piece of living art that breathed into his mouth, exploding sensations in his groin. It was a sensory indulgence that had been denied for too long, he had to allow his hands to flow over the satiny texture of her skin, then intermittently hit fabric, following the rise and swell of her body’s curves while her tongue hunted his.
Delirium began to shred his formality, began to jeopardize his mission not to take things too far. Common sense peeled away swiftly; it happened as her graceful fingers gently traced the planes of his cheeks and slid down his neck, as though memorizing his face by sheer touch, then they found his back.
Flat palms, a woman’s gentle press, sent sensual Morse code into his shoulders down the valley of his spine and finally over the ridge of his ass . . . oh, God . . . Roger that. He understood and deepened the kiss. Her body replied with a gasp and an arch. The crystal pins had to come out of her hair; he removed one and she began removing the rest.
Held captive by her touch, by her kiss, he remained her hostage as she slowly sucked on his bottom lip until her hair finally fell into his palms and then through his fingers in silky waves. Deftly managing his buttons, she opened his shirt and began tracing his chest through his T-shirt, her fingertips having some extrasensory perception about whether or not they should proceed. The only way he could reassure her was to take away his kiss from her warm, delicious mouth to spill it over her shoulders as he slowly lifted her tank top.
Hot hands slid up her back and made a tender sweep around her torso to cherish her breasts. Anita let her head drop back. Everything that she’d daydreamed of was fulfilled in his kiss as his warm mouth pressed against an angry nipple, suckling it softly, the wet sounds as erotic as the actual touch. Friction begat more friction which begat instant heat. Her Venus pushed hungrily against his length, her fingers gliding over an indomitable eight-pack, trying to wrest him free as he sought the other neglected nipple in a way that made her breath staccato.
He stepped out of his shoes; she stepped out of her yoga pants and clasped his hand. Their eyes met and he followed her lead to the sofa where she picked up her purse. There was no judgment in his gaze as he stared at her.
“I had hope,” she said quietly.
“I didn’t even dare to dream that far,” he said, capturing her mouth.
“If I had known,” she whispered, “you wouldn’t have made it out of the elevator.”
He kissed her harder, splaying his hands over the full lobes of her ass as he yanked her tighter against him. “I’ll remember that when we’re in the limo.”
She couldn’t hold onto the purse as she fumbled to get it open and collect the contents. Papers that Javier had left spilled to the floor as Zachary pulled her down on top of him. But as she picked up the condom, she froze.
“What’s the matter?” Zachary’s breathing was shallow, coming in short bursts.
She snatched up the unmarked envelope that had a smiley face on it and scrambled back from him, folding her body into a tiny ball.
“Baby, what’s the matter?” he said slowly, watching her wrap her arms tightly around her shins as the letter fell away from her hands.
He snatched up the letter and opened it. A single page with cutout letters from various magazines made him become very, very still. The message was simple but menacing: I know where you live again. You cannot hide from me. Soon you die.
“I want you to go put some clothes on, I’ll pull myself together— then we have to call the police. All right?” He picked up her purse and handed it to her, putting away the condoms.
Anita nodded but still seemed in shell shock. She hadn’t moved and had begun rocking as moisture swelled in her eyes and then flowed down her flushed cheeks in two large tears. He knelt down in front of her and kissed her face, wiping away the tears with the pads of his thumbs.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered hoarsely. “Spend the night after the police go . . . and just hold me, okay?”
“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
TWO MEN IN the lobby, two in the limo, five already at the airport sweeping the private jet and at the ready for crowd control . . . Zachary ticked off the logistics of the job as he pressed the elevator button within the expansive lobby.
One of Lowell’s other men had picked up his luggage, and he’d filled the squad in about the discovery of the stalker’s latest note. Now he just needed to do one last pass through the building routes while Anita worked out logistics with her management. It was vitally important now that he remain focused. He couldn’t allow his mind to flex back to what almost happened but didn’t. Keeping ’Nita safe was his only goal. It wasn’t about taking advantage of her when she was frightened and vulnerable . . . the look on her face replayed itself over and over again in his mind. She’d snuggled into his spoon and slept like a baby while wrapped in his arms.
Memories of the fiancée he once had stabbed into his brain— and he quickly jettisoned the thoughts. Betrayed once, never again. It was probably a good thing that they found the letter when they did, this way things hadn’t gone too far, hadn’t gotten complicated. This was best. He’d be her driver, her primary bodyguard. He was never destined to be her lover; it would never work. This was situational attraction; that’s what he had to remember.
Zachary stared at the elevator doors and then ignored the shudder that the memory of Anita’s words produced. “In the elevator . . .” He could just imagine it.
No. Think about something else. Okay, mission-related: He liked being early for the flight, but hated wearing a suit and having a wire in his ear. After last night, his white, Oxford button-down shirt and rep tie felt totally confining, just like the boring lace-up wing-tip shoes did. Men in black; Zachary shook his head. Black jeans and a T-shirt would have made him feel more comfortable, even fatigues would have been okay by him. But Lowell had them all looking like a Secret Ser vice detail.
The elevator sounded and shook him out of his thoughts. He stepped into the elevator car alone and pressed the button, watching the numbers light up as he ascended. Mild adrenaline coursed through him, wondering how he was going to handle being around her for ten days, especially after tasting her kiss, her skin, feeling her against him. With any luck, things would be fairly routine; he’d do the job, his buddy would get paid, and then he’d get back to base. Simple. He had to disengage from the personal. He was just glad that he was able to convince Lowell that he was doing him a big favor, and not the other way around. His buddy was way too proud to have it any other way.
But as Zach exited on his floor, all his hopes of an easy morning following practically no sleep last night were dashed. The first thing he heard was Anita’s voice yelling expletives so loud that she might as well have had the suite door open. What the hell had happened now?
Taking his time, he approached the door and then knocked, glancing at his watch. Whatever the problem was, his only concern and responsibility at the moment was to safely get her from point A, the building, to point B, the airport, and aboard her private charter. If her family had started some drama, he’d break both her brothers’ faces.