Into Temptation. Jeanie London
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had always found control a liberating thing, and that feeling apparently ran to kissing bad guys, too. Slanting her mouth across his, she coaxed his lips wide with her tongue, savored the erotic taste of moist warm breath, felt challenged to make him respond.
He’d kissed her in the museum hallway as cover, but she kissed him now because she couldn’t resist. All this awareness happening between them was simply too delicious to ignore, too intense. She liked that she had this unexpected attraction to add weight to her cause. Almost as much as she liked kissing Joshua Benedict.
Almost as much as she liked him kissing her back.
Remembering the cathedral, Lindy wondered if she shouldn’t light her own candle.
Attraction this strong could only mean trouble.
And he proved the notion by raising a hand to touch her. She wanted him to go for the kill, to reach for her breasts, which were within easy range. Could he tell her nipples had gone all peaky or did her dress hide the evidence?
He dragged his fingers up her throat, a touch that felt more intimate than a bolder touch might have. Especially when he arched her neck so he could deepen their kiss.
Thrusting his tongue inside her mouth for a warm stroke, he took the lead with an assurance that rolled her insides as if they were as gooey as that first melting bite of a fresh-from-the-oven brownie.
She sank against him, caught up in the feel of his hands on her, the power of their clashing breaths and tangling tongues. Who knew they’d be so hot together? The thought had certainly never occurred to her, not even when she’d been caught staring at him.
But all questions about reactions vanished beneath the thrill of the moment, the fire of their kiss. Lindy sensed the instant he was about to lose his control, felt the gathering of his muscles before his arms came around her with whipcord strength. Suddenly, she came up hard against him, feeling the difference between close and closer.
He surrounded her with his broad chest and strong arms. Her breasts crushed against his chest so she could feel the steady thumping of his heart. Sliding her arms around him, she hung on, unable to resist the warm, solid feel of him, the way his body seemed to tuck around her in all the right places.
It was a moment that chased away all thoughts, all distractions. Indeed, how could work claim even a shred of her reason when excitement pulsed through her like a tide, when that soft place between her thighs grew warm?
Lindy arched against him and was rewarded when Joshua ground out a sound from low in his throat, a sound that assured her he was as caught up as she.
The night fell away, the city along with it, and not until a bus screeched to a halt directly in front of them did Lindy become aware of anything but the way her body sparked to life in contact with this man’s.
The bus doors hissed open with a whoosh, and Joshua and Lindy broke apart. She blinked stupidly as he disentangled himself and stood. He stared down at her, his dark gaze a caress, then he flashed a grin that was all satisfied male.
“I want to see what you’re made of, Lindy Gardner. If you can keep up with me, I might actually consider your deal.”
With that he turned and hopped onto the bus, leaving her staring at that cute bum as he strode up the stairs.
The doors shut with a whoosh. Joshua paid the fare and headed down the aisle as the bus lurched into motion again. Lindy watched it roll down the street in a gleam of red taillights, and she laughed, a sound that resounded through the late-night street.
“I’VE MADE CONTACT with our target,” Lindy said when the familiar image of her boss appeared on the high-definition notebook display.
Malcolm gave a curt nod, a gesture she knew translated into approval. “Care to share the details?”
“Not just yet.”
“Brief me.”
“We’re playing cat and mouse.”
“Care to define that? Just enough to assure me you’re the cat.”
“Meow.”
As her direct superior, Malcolm Trent ran Lindy’s life, and had since she’d completed her SIS training nearly a decade ago. On approach to his fiftieth birthday, he was a stoic man with black hair, who somehow managed to look younger than his age.
How he’d avoided graying while maneuvering the often-treacherous shoals between the Joint Intelligence Committee, the Ministry of Defence, the Government Communications Headquarters and outside agencies like Interpol was a mystery of incredible genetics as far as Lindy was concerned. Then again, Malcolm was good at his job with a knack for diplomacy. That knack had shot him up the ranks of SIS with impressive speed.
They shared a solid relationship, not always pleasant, but based on mutual respect, with a bit of indulgence on Malcolm’s part, as he’d been responsible for recruiting her from the police force in her home town.
Lindy shamelessly admitted to taking advantage of that indulgence sometimes. Like now when she didn’t admit to hedging her bets with Joshua Benedict. The boundaries could be liquid in her line of work—one of the reasons she liked her job. Malcolm set the parameters. She did what she felt necessary to accomplish her mission objective.
Bottom line: Malcolm wanted Renouf.
“He acquired the White Star,” she said.
“You got a confirm on that?”
She shook her head. “But I’d bet my Man U tickets. Everything adds up. The thief whom we believe stole the White Star from the auction house rented a security box in a local bank. He winds up a floater in the East River and the bank’s security guard is arrested for drunken and disorderly conduct, where the NYPD find an amulet in his possession. Suddenly our target shows up and the amulet disappears from the precinct property room. What would you surmise?”
“Sounds like you’ve been tailing him closely.”
“Closely, but not too closely. Didn’t want to scare him off. You said it yourself—he’s our only lead to the target.”
“Think he’ll take the bait?”
“I’m letting him put me through my paces. He wants to see what I’m made of.”
“Sure that’s the best way to handle him?”
Here was a place she could have admitted Joshua had thrown her a curve, too, but Lindy didn’t want to be directly responsible for Malcolm’s first gray hair. “Trust me. I’m playing him exactly the way he needs to be played. Let me do my job, so you’re free to do yours. Speaking of, you look tired. MOD giving you grief?”
“Afghanistan.”
That was all he had to say. The Ministry of Defence relied upon the intel from SIS to protect and serve, and with the rumor of ties between the United Kingdom and a new, potentially well-funded terrorist cell harbored in Afghanistan, the MOD had been applying pressure to produce the information needed to assess the threat.
“Anything I can do?”
“Bring me enough to build a case against Renouf. That’ll make folks around here smile again. For a while at least.” He forced his own smile.
Lindy nodded. Malcolm was right—catching Henri Renouf would soothe frazzled tempers. When British relics disappeared, more than art enthusiasts noticed. People took the thefts personally. The recovery of any artifacts, or bringing the man who’d funded the thefts to justice, would throw good light on their agency at a time when the public needed reassurance.
With political events shifting and terrorism breeding in some of the most unexpected global cubbies, a climate of uncertainty existed everywhere. There would be media attention on bringing in a man who’d eluded international capture for as long as Renouf had. He was exactly the sort of example the intelligence community needed right now to reassure