My Spy (28 page)

“They were watching yours, too. You just didn't notice.”

Annie sniffed. “No way.” She shifted one of the cucumber slices.

“You always had your head in a book so you never saw.” Taylor's eyes narrowed. “I, on the other hand, was the first one to stay out all night, the first one to sneak into the drive-in. I was always looking for the next big experience, even if it was a bad one.”

“You really wish you could go back?”

Taylor shrugged. “I wish I'd slowed down and enjoyed things. If you charge headlong at the stream of life, you end up with windburn. Or shin splints. Or something.” She shook her head. “On that obscure note, I'm leaving. I've got to go kill someone.”

Smiling, Annie tossed her a towel. “Who gets it today?”

“A lawyer who's been two-timing his wife and his mistress.
He's also been skimming from his oh-so-proper Boston law firm.”

“I like it.” Annie thought about Tucker Marsh and his threats. “Just don't make it quick. Draw it out. Make him suffer.”

“Is there something you need to tell me?”

Annie pulled on her terry robe. “Nothing that I can't handle.”

“Remember, I'm here if you need me. Any and all details welcomed. Moral support dispensed as required.” Taylor slid the towel over her shoulder. “There's always a chance I can work you into a book somewhere.”

“Quote me and you're a dead woman.”

“Hmmm.”

Annie shook her head, well aware that warnings made no impression on Taylor, who was busy digging in her Vuitton bag. “Catch.”

Something flew toward Annie. She caught it, frowning at a small foil square.

“Keep it. Use it,” Taylor said.

“I don't—”

“You might. New century, new rules, love. A woman doesn't leave it to the man.”

Annie blew out an irritated breath, then pocketed the foil square in her robe. She had an uncomfortable suspicion that Taylor had the mature approach, but Annie wasn't about to carry around a condom.

On the other hand, she wasn't going to leave it here for a guest to discover.

She watched Taylor toss beauty items into her designer bag. “Do you really need a pair of fake leather capri pants and three tubes of mascara with you at all times?”

“Faux, not fake. And the answer is yes. Absolutely. A woman's got to be prepared for all eventualities.” She turned to
give Annie a searching look. “Wear the red lace. He'll be crawling in five seconds.”

C
LEANSED,
GLISTENING,
AND
EXFOLIATED, ANNIE
CROSSED the courtyard toward the kitchen, feeling like a new woman. The wind was picking up and her hair flew into her eyes. To the north she saw the sharp outline of lightning.

There was a sense of unreality about the unnatural darkness. Or maybe it was just her body, weightless and sleek from two incredible hours of pampering.

Only one unpleasant sight spoiled her rosy mood.

A workman was crouched near the new whirlpool, checking chemical readings in a test kit. Annie scowled at the familiar logo on his khaki uniform.

This was the fifth workman this week. If he told her there was
another
problem, she was going to rip the whirlpool out of the ground and send it back in little pieces. Nothing was worth
this
much aggravation.

Squinting into the wind, she stalked toward her unsuspecting target.

“Don't tell me it's overflowing again,” she snapped.

The man jumped, nearly dropping his test kit. “Jeez, I didn't hear you back there.”

“Sorry.” Annie held out a hand. “I'm Ms. O'Toole, the manager. I hope you haven't found any more problems.”

“Not so far.” He squinted up at her behind his dark glasses. “Your chemistry looks fine. PH is normal and chlorine reads just in zone.” He pulled a wrench from a big aluminum toolbox. “Your intake filters look cloudy, though. I thought I'd clean them out before I finished. Dirty pipes can be a bitch.” He cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon.”

Annie noticed a line of foam at the top of the pipe. “Could that be what's causing these maintenance problems?”

He scratched his neck slowly. “Might be. You get a fair
amount of leaves and debris up here, and that can be a killer. Your staff needs to skim everything at least twice a day, and be sure to cover the tub at night as a precaution, as well as before any major storm.” He glanced up at the sky and shook his head. “Starting right now. Those clouds could rip any second.”

Sand and dry leaves danced along the path as he spoke and he clutched at his cap to keep it from blowing away.

“I'll get one of the maintenance people right away.”

“Sooner the better.” He tightened his wrench, then went to work on the filter. “I'd better get moving, too. No sense staying around water when the lightning starts. I got hit once and it's not something you forget.” He rubbed his wrist unconsciously as he spoke, and Annie wondered if that was where he'd been struck.

“Thanks for all your help.”

“Don't worry.” He patted the top of the filter. “When I'm done, this baby's gonna purr.”

Halfway up the path, Annie had another thought. “Do you have a card?” she called. “If I have another problem with the filters, I'd like to call you directly.”

“Can do, ma'am.” Squinting, he fumbled in his toolbox, producing a folded and soggy set of business cards. “Doused them at my last service call.” He pulled one out for Annie, tapping the number at the bottom of the card. “The name's Dooley. I'm usually in the field, but you can always reach my pager. You got a problem with the pumps or the filters, give me a shout, 24/7.”

He gave Annie a little two-finger wave, checked the sky again, then went back to work on the filter, muttering about the dangers of silt impaction.

A drop of rain hit Annie's shoulder. She knew she had to find Reynaldo and make certain he understood the new maintenance requirements. The quickest way would be to use the phone in her office.

Rain splattered over the flagstones as she reached the main
courtyard. One of the maintenance staff was walking toward her office, and Annie ran to cut him off.

“Reynaldo?”

He didn't turn. Annie couldn't see his face with his hat pulled low against the wind.

Frowning, she crossed around in front of him. “Enrique?”

“
Sí.
” He turned as she did, keeping his side to her.

“I need some help up at the new whirlpool. The cover needs to be put down before the storm hits.”

“Big winds,
sí.
” He turned up his collar, pointing toward the covered walkway. “We go this way.”

“Yes, but—”

He moved ahead of her, his voice muffled by the whine of the wind while Annie followed in growing irritation.

She stopped near the therapy rooms, just outside a walled terrace. “Can you turn around, please? I need to talk with you.”

“No talk.”

“Why in the world not?”

He shrugged, moving toward the wall, which was covered with jasmine. Annie's breath caught as he pulled her back against a trailing bank of white petals. “Because of this,” he said roughly.

“W
HAT
IN
THE WORLD
—”

His mouth moved over hers, unexpected and hot with demand. Heat slammed through her chest and streaked down to her toes, making her tremble.

Desire or not, fury clamped down hard. She shoved at his hat and sent it flying. “You big idiot. You're not supposed to be down here.”

Sam's face was lined with strain. “I was worried about you. You should have called in.”

“I was fine.”

He leaned back against the stucco wall and nuzzled at her neck. “What's that perfume you're wearing? Something with strawberries and roses.”

Annie closed her eyes as his fingers fanned out over her hips. “Rejuvenating facial complex.”

“Good name,” he said. “I'm feeling very rejuvenated.”

“Stop, Sam. You shouldn't be here. Your orders—”

“To hell with my orders. I kept seeing you cornered with a pushy guest. He was running his hands over your shoulders, biting your ear. Looking at your breasts. The thought is still driving me crazy.”

Annie softened slightly. Jealousy she could understand. She had spent a lot of time thinking about Sam with other women, and the experience hadn't been pleasant. “No one has been running his hands over me except some wretch in a wrinkled gardening uniform.” She fingered Sam's collar and winced as rain hit her face. “Can we carry on this argument somewhere dry?”

“It's not an argument.” Sam nudged her along the wall
toward a big glass door leading to the yoga room. “It's a discus sion.” He opened the door and pulled her inside.

Into the cool silence.

Into the darkness.

Into his hard arms.

He was working on the buckles at her shoulder straps and Annie felt one slide free. She knew she had to tell him to back off, to wait, to be reasonable.

She was trying to tell herself those things, too. But all she could think of was how he'd feel naked against her, how his body would pin her against the cool floor, how he'd find her heat, make her laugh, make her moan and gasp his name, the way he'd done before.

“Annie.” It was a harsh rush of sound, his face all dark planes and shadowed need. “If you're worried about—”

“I'm not worried.” Her hands were at his shirt, digging and pulling.

“It has to be here,” he muttered. “I can't wait.”

She closed her eyes, turning in his arms. “Here? But what if someone—”

The other buckle slide free, and her dress coasted over her shoulders, down to her waist, across her hips.

To the floor.

She heard Sam curse, his fingers tensing on her wrists.

The red lace. She'd finally agreed to wear it after Taylor's badgering.

Annie's face flamed in the darkness. The lingerie was sheer, high cut, and outrageous, absolutely unlike her.

Silence fell like a hot weight, broken only by Sam's hard breathing.

“Damn.”

Annie swallowed.

“That's … lace. What there is of it.” He took a deep breath. “Red. Very red.”

“So?” Annie tried to feel beautiful, confident, like a woman who wore red lace all the time. “Is there a problem?”

“Yeah, there's a problem.” His jaw clenched. “You're beautiful. And I'm so hard I can't move.”

Her lips curved and she made a silent note to thank Taylor. “How hard?” Her hands skimmed his chest, then opened to pull him against her until she felt the awesome reality of the answer. “Strike that question.”

Rain struck the big glass door at her back. Sam's eyes narrowed as laughter carried over the nearby courtyard, followed by the race of feet.

He moved in a blur, silently locking the door, his eyes on Annie's face. “Now.”

Not a question. More like an act of nature, Annie thought, pulled closer, swallowed by the darkness in his eyes.

Her only answer was a nod, since she didn't seem to have air to speak.

Someone clattered up the outside stairs and tapped at the door. “Anyone in there?”

Sam covered her mouth with one finger, pulling her back into the shadows. Annie's gaze didn't leave his face as the knocking continued.

“It's locked.” The door shook again. “Let's try the other side.” The sounds drifted away, muffled by the rain.

“Can they get in?” Sam's voice was harsh. “Is there another door?”

Annie tried to focus. “One. It—it's closed unless a class is in session.”

“Class is definitely in session, but it's going to be a private one, just you and me.”

He caught her waist and lifted her up onto the seat lined with cushions, surrounded by yoga and nutrition magazines.

“Is this is going to be extreme yoga?” she asked breathlessly
as Sam swept the magazines away with one hand, then pulled her long silk scarf over her head.

“You have no idea
how
extreme.”

As Annie stared back at him, the rain and the shadows were forgotten. The cushion was soft beneath her hips and the scent of incense lingered from the morning's yoga classes.

She shouldn't be here, she thought dimly.

She shouldn't be anywhere else.

He terrified her.

She was terrified he would stop.

“Annie.” He slid one hand into her damp hair.

Her bra opened, lace straps sliding off her shoulders and down over her arms.

“I couldn't stop thinking of you,” Sam whispered. “Night and day, you wouldn't let go of me.” His hand rose, brushing her breasts, making her forget to breathe. “How about you?”

“Me, too.”

“Every time I heard your voice, I wanted this. I thought you'd see.”

“How? You never give away anything.”

The red straps fell, pinning her arms as Sam leaned down to find her with his mouth.

Annie closed her eyes at the sharp, jolting pleasure of his tongue. This was Sam, she thought. She'd wanted him, touched him, then watched him walk away, watched him almost die. Now fate had tossed him back to her and she wasn't going to waste any more time worrying about what she couldn't control or foresee.

She shoved his shirt free, raking her nails gently over his chest. New scars gleamed, pink outlines against tanned skin, and Annie touched them one by one with her lips.