High Ground Page 5

  He gave up on slowing his heart rate. She reminded him of pictures he’d seen of quadroons in the 1800s. The descendants of African slaves and their Caucasian masters, white men prized the earth-bound goddesses as concubines prior to the Civil War. With her high cheekbones, tilted eyes, and full lips, Josh could see why slave traders scoured the states to find girls with Cat’s description. His libido soared with the force of his response to her.

  His mind shot into play like a ball in a pinball machine, pinging off a series of thoughts at lightning speed. Accusing her of failing to protect Siree, without checking the facts, hadn’t been his best moment. Ping. He’d acted like an ass. Like a kid pulling a girl’s pigtails to get her attention. Ping. She’d turned her back on him. And why not? He’d just charged her with negligence.

  He’d convinced himself the instant mutual attraction resulted from the adrenaline high of finishing the race together. He’d avoided her instead of apologizing. Ping. A renewed brush of embarrassment heated his cheeks. He’d gone to the wedding alone, hoping for a second chance with her. Ping. He believed in them. Cat apparently didn’t. He’d left feeling only contempt for her inability to move past his first lame attempts. Bells ringing.

  Honesty forced him to admit he’d felt re-buffed, rejected by the woman, and so tried to write her off as someone he didn’t like. And he’d wrapped himself in the feeling the minute she’d shown up in his loft. Ping. Rebuff her before she rejects you. Sirens shrieking, lights flashing. Jackpot score for the jerk.

  Her head tilted to the right. She raised her face. Her half-closed eyes looked slumberous, heavy with desire, as if… She’s imagining what I look like without my boxers. The thought sent his blood soaring south. He looked down. His boxers, made of knit cotton stretched tightly over his hips, refused to camouflage his response. He’d worn them to bed out of deference to her.

  Her mouth curved in a knowing smile.

  Cat. Temptress. Tigress. He stifled a groan, felt his penis jerk, and push to the edge of the elastic. Christ, he swelled further under her steady regard. He hated her having control over any part of him.

  “If you tease the dog, you should expect him to bite,” he drawled. He stood hands on hips, while he gave her legs a lengthy perusal.

  “I’ve had my shots.”

  She surprised a laugh out of him. He choked it off. Was that an invite I just heard?

  His eyebrows rose in a question as her nipples peaked, the dark aureoles enticing shadows beneath the thin cloth. She unfolded her long legs and stood. A taut line of skin appeared between miniscule bikini panties and the waist length camisole. Cream skin stretched over her taut belly. He imagined the silken length of her legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him closer, and his blood drummed a voodoo rhythm, as he stood immobilized by lust.

  She strolled toward him. His hard-on tracked her like a hound on a scent.

  “Nice thought,” she said, with a final sidelong perusal of his tented boxers. “Not going to happen.” She drifted across the loft and through the door of her room. He looked down at her instrument of torture and imagined exploring all her silken skin and secret places. He felt his mouth widen in delight. Well, this might prove interesting. Complex people challenged him. He loved unearthing new layers.

  He expected not to sleep for the rest of the night. Instead, he succumbed to Morpheus’s embrace the minute he pulled up the sheet. His subconscious desire to claim Cat keyed the command to sink into his dreams. Finally, he had a face for the woman in his fantasy.

  He dreamed she swayed before him, creating a silent song of seduction. Slowly, she lifted the gauzy camisole over her head. She stepped out of the tiny panties displaying her beautiful body for his pleasure. Firm muscle covered the fine bones. Gentle curves shaped her for his hands. He pressed his palms flat against her elegant back and slowly slid them down the length. Her flawless skin felt like the highest thread count of Egyptian cotton. She warmed to his touch. Dusky rose suffused her cheeks when he rubbed his chest hair against the tips of her breasts.

  The fantasy drew him deeper. He followed eagerly. She moaned. The flesh beneath his hands quivered. He pressed her closer. Her hands slid up his arm, over his shoulder, cradled the back of his neck, soothing and inciting at the same time. Tongues dueled as passion mounted. He felt her knees buckle. Her fingers clamped on his nape. She settled her slight weight against him. With the softening of his warrior, primitive instinct savaged his control. His hands cupped the tight globes of her buttocks, drawing her into the apex of his thighs. Her pubic hair brushing his engorged penis sent the beast roaring.

  He fell on her, hunger driving him. He fed on her voraciously, trapped in the heat of a desire so fierce it consumed him. His fantasy giving him license; he made her everything he wanted in his soul mate. She came alive in his arms. Need for him leapt from her in soft moans and urgent whispers. Her fingers wove into his hair clutching him closer as he tongued her nipple. Her long legs wrapped around his hips urging him into the moist heat at her center. His mind winged back and forth along the edge of his dream, determined to capture the ecstasy and hold it.

  Chapter Three

  Josh sat at the counter reading the news on his touchpad when Cat emerged from her room the next morning. She moved into the kitchen, found a mug, and poured coffee already brewed. He didn’t so much as look up to acknowledge her presence. She hunted for a cereal bowl, shook out some muesli, and opened the refrigerator for the soya milk. When she turned back to the counter, his gaze swept upward from her bottom, to her face.

  “What’s on the agenda today?” She ignored the tingles running through her girl parts and focused on business.

  “You.”

  “What about me?”

  “Your wardrobe.” He took another mouthful of coffee and went back to his reading.

  Cat tucked her hands under her butt, so she wouldn’t reach for his throat. The man infuriated her. She could actually feel her scalp heat and prick; the tendrils of her hair tightened as perspiration rose along her hairline. Two could play. “Details.” She sipped her own coffee, checked her phone messages.

  “Ten a.m., taxi to Georgetown. We’ll hit the design district there. I know a couple of boutique stores whose managers will help us outfit you in the type of clothes the women I see would wear.”

  “I bet you do,” she hissed the words into her coffee.

  “Pardon me.” He swiveled, bringing that searchlight gaze full on her. Something devilish in his look made suspect he’d heard.

  “I said…that should do.” She pushed a tendril of hair back into her French roll and met his gaze, her own cool.

  “Siree said you ran and climbed with her most days. You’ll want exercise. Feel free to use my workout equipment. As soon as I’ve finished designing my new software, we’ll arrange some climb time.”

  Startled by the abrupt change in topic and his warmer tone, Cat took a moment to respond. “Thanks. I prefer to run more than climb. Any chance of a daily run?”

  “I’m not a runner. I have to get in shape for the McKenzie climb Jake, Sam, and I have scheduled for late November, so I need to get back to my climb club. They have an indoor track you can use.”

  Cat said farewell to her hopes of running some of the great paths threading the capital. Every job required different sacrifices. She slipped off her stool and arranged her dishes in the dishwasher. All the utensils stood in the rack handle up. The best wash happened when the tops were exposed. She turned each one end to end. “Ten then. I’ll check in with RG, do my rounds, and be ready.”

  Josh stood and crossed to put his dishes in the dishwasher. With deliberate emphasis, he flipped all the flatware around end to end. “It’s more sanitary if you put the silver away by grasping the handles,” he stated.

  “Jerk,” she coughed covering the word.

  His eyes pierced her, and too late, she remembered his excellent hearing. She crossed to the door, keyed in the release codes, and stepped through with a sigh of relief.


  ****

  At ten hundred hours precisely, she tapped her fingers on her crossed arms, while he keyed complicated codes into several keypads inside and outside the loft.

  He tapped his toes on the cement stoop, while she reconnoitered the street, cab, and driver. They slid in opposite sides of the cab, sat as close to their door as possible, and stared out the window. Cat noted the curious look on the face of the couple who’d emerged from their apartment across the street. She’d totally forgotten her cover in her pique with Josh. She slid across the seat, wound her arm around his shoulder, and kissed his cheek, as the cab drew away.

  He jerked, turned fully to stare at her. “Don’t look now, but the neighbors are watching,” she whispered into his ear, before leaning in to nip it.

  He looked out the back window, looked at the cabbie’s face reflected in the rear view mirror, and laughed. Playfully, he lifted her chin and kissed the end of her nose. “Not mad anymore, my darling? You never can stay angry with me,” he spoke, his voice as warm as cashmere.

  “Honey, it’s not nice to get your jollies and leave me unsatisfied. I really hope you can learn to slow down, maybe try a little foreplay.” She pouted for effect.

  He made a choking sound, his gaze swiveled down to meet hers. She’d expected to see anger at the spur against his manhood, at least a little annoyance. Instead, delight sparkled in the gray depths. His lips twitched, corralling the laugh wanting to break free.

  “Don’t I at least get points for finding you so hot I can’t help myself?” He brushed his fingers up and down her cheekbone with the finesse of a make-up artist.

  She measured his diabolical look of glee and inwardly cursed her lack of control. You don’t throw rocks at a raptor, without getting raked by his claws. Instead of creating distance between them, she’d intrigued him. Now he would swoop in for the kill. Not one to run from a fight, she turned her face so her lips feathered across his palm and took pleasure in hearing his breath catch. “How could I be angry with a gorgeous guy who’s taking me shopping,” she purred.

  “I’ll be sure to buy some pretty toys so I can satisfy my rapacious sex kitten.” His eyes glittered with wicked thoughts.

  She slid back in the seat and aimed her flush at the window. Round one to him.

  When the cab pulled up in front of a trendy boutique carrying both men’s and women’s clothing, he helped her out with the easy grace of a man who cared for women. Hand at her back, he tried to guide her into the store. She pretended to trip and shuffled behind him to protect his back. His eyes narrowed as he took in the maneuver, but he let it go. In seconds, a salesclerk rushed toward him. The manager winged down the stairs from her second floor office.

  “Joshua…” She floated toward him all smiles. “It’s been ages, darling. Where have you been hiding?” She tucked her hand into the space between Josh’s arm and waist.

  “In a world bereft of your beauty and good taste.” He bent to kiss each cheek, accepted her perfumed embrace, and stepped back, using pressure on Cat’s back to move her forward. “My…associate.” He paused just long enough to spark the gossip machine into overdrive.

  “Catarina Duplessis. I know you’ll have just the look she wants.” As he spoke, he moved them deeper into the store and stopped before the first rack of clothing.

  “Indeed.” The manager drew her attention away from Josh long enough to rake it over Cat, assessing the quality of her serviceable skirt, watch, and pumps. Her gaze sharpened when she calculated the cost of Cat’s silk blouse and designer bag, narrowed as they settled on her face. She removed her hand from Josh’s arm and sidled closer to Cat. “I’m sure we can provide everything you want.” Greed taped an ingratiating smile to her face.

  Josh’s scrutiny followed the same path. “A size four, six in the tops, I believe. She’ll need the works—evening, daytime, leisure, plus lingerie. 34 C.” His gaze topped out level with hers, held for a moment as he noted her displeasure. “Sorry.” He flashed his angel’s smile and shrugged. “I can’t help myself.”

  Sucker punched. For the next half hour, she recalled all the pros and cons of working as a model. Josh and the manager moved off together, discussing her height, body shape, and coloring like she didn’t exist. Josh pulled outfits from racks with the speed of a housewife at a half-price sale. Two sales clerks ran back and forth filling the dressing rooms with the items. Unnecessary to the task at hand, Cat did the real job she’d been hired to do. She maneuvered until she stood near the front entrance, with the light from the large windows behind her, and a clear sightline to the street and the exit at the back of the store.

  She’d left off a jacket, to better fit the look of Josh’s lover, and stashed her Glock 19 in the handbag. She preferred the lightweight semi-automatic for range and accuracy. An extra clip added weight to the purse and reassurance she could handle an assassination attempt.

  She’d left her Kahr PM40, the small hand gun she usually wore in an ankle holster, behind in the loft.

  “That should suffice.” Josh strode up to her. “Ready to have some fun, my darling?”

  She let him grasp her elbow and maneuver her toward the dressing room. “Always, shoushou.” She played up her Creole accent. Leaning against him, she placed her head on his shoulder and whispered. “I want you…”

  He stumbled, his head swivelled so he could search her eyes with his.

  “…to sit in that chair over there.” She pointed and then whispered, “So I can do my job.”

  Smiling, she raised her voice a little. “I want you to see me in the best light.”

  “Certainly, my… what did you call me?”

  “Shoushou, it’s Creole for sweetie. Don’t let it go to your head.” She crossed to the dressing room, stood, and waited until he’d seated himself in the chair she’d selected. Several racks prevented a shooter in the street or storefront from gaining a straight line of sight to him. Out of sight of the back exit, and screened on this side by the centrally located dressing rooms, it provided the most protection. She wanted him safely inside the dressing room with her, but couldn’t bear the idea of such intimacy.

  When she came out wearing the first outfit, he’d arranged himself like a potentate prepared to watch his favorite dancer. Long legs, crossed at the ankle, stretched down the mauve carpet toward her. Elbows on the upholstered chair arms, fingers locked over flat stomach, he took her breath. She pulled herself together.

  Strutting like a model, she moved in front of him. He looked her over from the top of her head to the tip of her toes, his gaze measuring the fit of the black cocktail dress on her bust and hips. He lifted a finger, twirled it to indicate she should turn around. She fired a fusillade of disdain in his direction and strode back to the dressing room.

  The next time she emerged he’d been served coffee and biscotti and had his hands full, so he couldn’t do the finger trick again. But she felt the heat from his silver eyes move up and down her body with the same intensity. Four outfits in, she’d had enough of his scrutiny, of feeling breathless and over-heated. She strode out wearing a long gown in white silk so thin it hinted at the flesh beneath. Braided straps interwoven with gold came together behind her neck, leaving a deep expanse of creamy flesh bare above her breasts.

  He sat up, set the cup on a small table, fixed his eyes on her, and appeared to stop breathing. She slinked forward, swaying so the silk rose and fell around her in whispered sighs. She closed the distance until she stood at his feet, then placing a foot either side of his long legs, she moved closer. Leaning in, she placed a hand on each arm of the chair and bent until inches separated their lips.

  “Shoushou,” she stroked the vowels, “this isn’t fun for me, when you just sit there. I want you to have some new clothes too.” She blew him an air kiss. “Come play with me.”

  His lips pursed and moved closer to her décolleté as if he could already taste her skin there. A light film of perspiration coated his upper lip.

  Her body resp
onded with a light sheen of its own.

  “You smell great, my darling. I must buy you more of that scent.”

  She leaned closer, slid her lips along his cheekbone, whispering, “You don’t wear perfume in the security business. It can get you killed.”

  His hands clenched around the arms of the chair. She reveled in his show of restraint. The skin stretched tighter across his cheekbones. A look of total involvement in the moment blazed from his eyes. He stimulated her, set her on edge. She’d never felt so alive.

  “You have such fine bones, and your skin looks like whipped cream.” He ran his lips from her throat to the top of her breast. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction when she gasped. Her flesh quivered beneath his mouth.

  “You even taste like whipped cream, with powdered sugar and a pinch of salt to bring out the flavor.”

  She swayed, tried to back up, but he held her slender hips in his hands. The saleswoman looked on avidly.

  “Not vanilla? I always put vanilla in whipped cream.” Valiantly, she faced him down.

  “No. Something deeper and darker.” He licked the gentle curves exposed by the gown. “Bourbon, I think.”

  “Are you going to try…?” She steadied herself by placing her hands on his thighs.

  “Sure I’m going to try, ma chérie, can’t have you playing alone.” He leaned closer, his gaze riveted to her mouth.

  Her knees almost buckled. She tightened her hands to steady herself. He took advantage of the moment by opening her lips with his tongue and sinking it deep. He tasted of coffee, dark chocolate, and cherries.

  “…try on some clothes with me.” She jerked back, leaving him gasping from the pain in his punctured thighs. She’d sunk her nails deep. She heard her ragged breathing, felt her body sway. His pupils were pinpricks, his breathing ruptured. He pulled his legs from between hers, stood, and stretched. “Let’s do this.”

  Cat fought for balance. She needed control. His words left an ambiguous impression, just as he intended. He tilted her world until nothing made sense. She would have relished the challenge in a normal male/female relationship, but now it posed a decided danger to her reputation and his life.