Diamonds Are Truly Forever: An Agent Ex Novel 2 (24 page)

He removed her hand from his cheek and kissed it, scooting out his chair. “I brought you here to dance, Stace.”

It was the perfect, romantic thing for a man in love to say and do. If she hadn’t known otherwise, she might even have fallen for it.

Before she could protest, he pulled her chair out for her, took her hand, and pulled her to the dance floor.

*   *   *

Contrary to popular belief, Drew knew how to salsa. You might even call him an intermediate dancer. He’d spent three months undercover in Cuba. Where he’d learned to dance in the arms of a sultry and curvaceous professional dancer—as part of his cover. And to impress Staci. There really was nothing like a hot, Havana night.

But however much Lola had tempted him and tried to get him into bed, he’d never broken his wedding vows. He’d only ever had eyes for Staci. Not that she believed him. And if she ever got a look at Lola and her moves, she never would. Which is why he couldn’t tell her how he’d learned or who’d taught him. He’d decided to classify Lola as a mission detail, something he was forbidden to share by the Agency.

He’d love to show Staci his moves. In private. When things could get not only hot and heavy, but get completely carried away. To bed. Unfortunately, showing off his dance moves while he was undercover as himself would draw too many pesky questions. He was going to have to put on an act and do his classic robot imitation, which was not hot at all.

*   *   *

Drew elbowed his way to the center of the crowded dance floor, holding Staci’s hand in a tight grip, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go. Even for a second.

Really, Drew is carrying this act too far. This isn’t face acting or a close-up on the big screen. No one’s going to notice the subtleties, like his possessive hold on my hand. Then again, he’s probably right to be concerned I’ll make a dash for the table. There’s only so much my country should require of me.

Staci glanced around, desperately trying to catch some guy’s eye,
any
guy’s eye, and encourage him to cut in. As soon as possible.

Drew caught her and gave her a sharp look.

“We could have stayed on the outskirts,” she whispered in his ear. And she meant it. All the easier to escape to the table if Drew’s dancing became too embarrassing to stomach. “You don’t have to impress me.”

He arched a brow. “Don’t I?”

“Just don’t do the robot. If you do, I’ll have to kill you. And I mean it.” She pointed to her feet. “I have the technology—stiletto impaler-heels. The latest from Em. Under the table earlier was only a taste of their pain-inflicting power.”

“You’re an evil woman,” he whispered back with a tease in his voice. “I suppose they’re tipped with poison?”

She grinned most evilly back at him. “Don’t test me.”

Noe and Mandy angled in next to them.

“It’s hot on the floor.” Noe’s eyes twinkled. He winked at Mandy and held out his hand for hers, giving her a sultry look. “Very hot.”

It was too bad Noe couldn’t have used his native French Canadian accent. That would have slain Mandy, for sure.

On cue from the band leader, the drums started up, cutting off further conversation.

Music moved Staci, always had. There was simply no resisting a dance beat. Almost subconsciously, her hips undulated. Her shoulders rolled. She closed her eyes and the beat coursed through her.

The dance instructors began teaching the basic steps.

The male instructor, Luis, called out the steps: “One, two, three, back! Five, six, seven. One, two, three, back, five, six, seven. One … five … one…”

“Not so bad,” Drew said, holding her hands and staring into her eyes. “I’m keeping up.”

“Barely. You’re moving like a scarecrow. Loosen up some.” She smiled to herself. “Wait until Luis shows us the turn and spin. I love spinning.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve seen your spin maneuver a time or two. Very effective at cutting me off.” Drew gave her hand a quick squeeze, which distracted her while he crushed her toes beneath his size twelves.

“Hey! You did that on purpose.” She frowned at him as her toe throbbed, resisting the urge to break the beat and rub her foot.

“Did I?” He grinned. “Sorry. Good thing
I
don’t have killer heels.”

“No, just big feet and bludgeoning shoes.”

He gave her a smoldering smile, which unfortunately took her by surprise—again—and made her melt for the second until he spoke. “Smile. Mandy’s looking this way.”

She smiled at him, sickeningly adoringly, like a puppy in love.

“Too lovesick schoolgirl,” he leaned in and whispered. “I was hoping for bitch in heat.”

Her better nature fought really hard not to frown. “Just following orders. Next time be specific.”

“Oh, I will.”

She moved her foot out of his way just in time, right before his sole came down on the delicate, exposed arch of her foot.

“And now, we will learn to turn and spin!” Luis yelled.

The crowd screamed approval.

“Do as I do and follow my lead,” Luis said, demonstrating the moves with his partner with perfect precision and fluidity.

But Drew did not do what Luis did or follow his lead. Drew ignored the steps, caressed Staci’s shoulders, ran his hot hands down her body, and grabbed her butt. He mimicked the moves, spinning her in an awkward eggbeater. Grabbing her thigh and pulling her leg against his. Tossing her back over his arm into a ridiculous fake salsa pose and staring into her eyes as if he would ravish her there on the floor.

Damn him!

All around them, people were looking at them, laughing, and egging Drew on as she grew light-headed from dangling over his arm like his puppet.

He always won the crowd over. Some called it charm or charisma. She called it frustrating. She gritted her teeth. “I told you to behave.”

“You told me not to do the robot,” he shot back with a challenge in his eyes. “Just following orders.”

In retrospect, she preferred the robot.

“Up!” she hissed at him, knowing she was the one in the fragile position.

“Keep smiling,” he whispered as he jerkily pulled her up and wrapped her in his arms too tightly for her to wiggle out.

She didn’t like the way her body reacted to his—as if she wanted him desperately. Salsa dancing with Drew was an odd combination of exotic, heady, and painful in way too many ways.

Next to them, Noe danced as if he’d been born in Havana, not Quebec, leading so well he made even Mandy look like a passable dancer.

Finally, mercifully, the lesson ended. The floor began to clear. Staci raced off toward the table with the others trailing after her. She was
not
going to repeat that performance with Drew again. She felt too … too shaky.

At the table, she grabbed the bottle of sherry. “I need a drink.” She poured herself a glass. “Noah, you’re quite the dancer. Unlike some people”—she shot Drew a heated look—“you can actually move.”

Noe elbowed Drew. “See, the ladies notice.” He smiled at Staci. “Dance lessons in college. Easiest PE credit I ever earned. Ballroom dancing. Salsa. I took it all. Great way to meet girls. I never could convince that one, though.” He nodded toward Drew.

Drew shrugged. “And yet, look who caught a girl.”

Noe laughed. “Caught one, did you? Watch me steal her.” He held his hand out to Staci.

She set down her wine and took his hand gladly. Anything to escape being too near Drew.

“You should have learned to dance,” Noe said to Drew.

Drew turned to Mandy.

She shook her head. “No, thanks. I’d rather sit this one out. I don’t like to dance like Staci does.”

*   *   *

Drew sipped his Rioja and watched Noe dance with his wife. He shouldn’t have been jealous. A dance was just a dance, right? Then why did he feel like punching his old friend?

Noe was a smooth mover. Graceful, seductive, and a show-off as he twirled Staci, wrapped his French Canadian arms around her, and spun her back out again before pulling her in and draping her over his arm.

As for Staci—Drew couldn’t keep his eyes off her undulating hips, and the way she threw back her head and ran her hands over her breasts, looking like a girl in a porn flick. Why hadn’t she done that for him?

He sat, silently sipping his wine, seething. Across from him, Mandy waved to get his attention. She said something. The music was blaring. He couldn’t hear her over it. He mimed as much to her.

She nodded and dug into her purse. An instant later she had her phone out and was texting someone with fingers flying. Good. He didn’t feel like chatting or trying to make small talk by yelling over the noise.

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. When he pulled it out, Mandy grinned at him. She was texting him?

He read her message.

You look jealous. Does N know you have a license to kill?

Drew grinned.

She sent him another text.
Who is N, really?

He fired back.
An old friend.

Really?
She arched a brow when he looked up at her.
I know your motto—admit nothing. Deny everything.

He laughed.
You’ll just have to trust me.

Mandy replied,
Ha-ha.

She sent him another text.
Staci still loves you.

Drew’s heart pounded. Still loved him? He stared back at Mandy, who gave him a knowing smile.

She told you the truth, didn’t she?
He texted back.
You know we’re faking the reunion?

Do you really think she could lie to me?

Drew banged his fist on the table. No, he didn’t think so. Asking Staci to lie to Mandy had partly been a test. Damn, he wished she could lie like he could. Maybe then they’d have a chance.

She pushed you away to protect you. Ask her about Iguazu Falls.

Drew’s pulse leaped.
Iguazu Falls? What the hell happened in Iguazu Falls that I don’t know about?
he thought.

He knew Staci felt guilty that the drug lords had found him because she hadn’t lied to them. They’d
tortured
her into telling them where he and Jack were. He’d told her it wasn’t her fault, that stronger men had cracked sooner, but she hadn’t listened.

He remembered all too well what Staci looked like when Emmett finally allowed him to see her in the hospital. He scowled in response to the painful memory. His beautiful wife’s face was so battered, swollen, and bruised he’d hardly recognized her. Over the rage and desire to kill Beto, he’d felt like a worried new father, counting her fingers and toes, making sure she had all her limbs, that the cartel hadn’t amputated any. He felt guilty. Responsible. He hadn’t protected her. He’d left her vulnerable.

After that, she’d been scared, sullen, and silent. He thought she blamed him for what happened. She let him believe that. In fact, she encouraged him.

Staci had
duped
him.

He couldn’t believe it. She’d
lied
to him all these months. Saying she no longer loved him. Claiming she’d changed.

And he’d bought it! Damn.

His Staci. Who always told him the truth. His one honest thing,
the
one honest person in his life.

He didn’t know whether to feel betrayed by her lies or touched that she thought she could save him.

Hell, maybe she
had
made the right move in filing for divorce. He’d thought so at the time, when he knew he was at fault for not protecting her. When he thought she blamed him and no longer loved him. When he felt inadequate as a spy, as a husband, and as a man in general.

Could they make things work?

He was away from home so often that a marriage hardly seemed feasible if he couldn’t take her with him on a mission. Yet he couldn’t have her with him, worrying what might happen to her.

He resisted shaking his head. He’d just dragged Staci headlong into a mission, hadn’t he? He vowed to himself—this was the last one.

Mandy had been typing away while he was lost in his thoughts. The buzz of the phone in his hand woke him up.

Stop scowling and get out there and dance with her, tiger. Noah’s had his turn long enough.

*   *   *

Noe danced like a Latin lover and led as well as a pro. Freestyle salsa with him was like eating chips with guacamole—satisfying and delicious. They were the perfect combo. He moved with athletic grace. Staci could spin three to a beat. A girl who could spin made a salsa couple look flashy. A girl who could spin as fast as she did made them smoking hot.