On the Job (4 page)

“It's what you asked me here for, Tony,” Walker said wryly.

“Only partially. I asked you to Aspen Lodge because I wanted the company of a good friend.”

“And to pick your good friend's brain about his government security secrets,” Hal Margrave added with a booming laugh and a wink. “Tony acts so nonchalant, but I bet he'll be looking for your opinion on how to convince the senate that U.S. banks are at high risk for hacking threats. Tony's looking for any morsel he can get to help convince those politicians the banks are as vulnerable as the country would be if we disbanded the military. That recent hackjob into American ATM accounts that was done from Moscow certainly has the politicians sitting up and taking notice.”

Walker studied Tony's reaction to his friend's reference to the recent high-profile case of bank hacking. He suspected his old friend of creating the havoc in order to make his company's latest product all that much more appealing to the powers that be. Tony looked anything but guilty, however. He flashed a grin that hadn't changed much since he was a seven-year-old dreamer and troublemaker. Just like when he'd been a kid, Walker found himself grinning back. Tony was nothing if not charming. He would have been better off without that vast cache of charm. Having to work hard for something might have made him into a different person.

He really hated that Tony had gotten himself mixed up in this crap. If he didn't go to prison, he was going to end up with a Russian bullet in his skull.

“How about a mojito, Walk? Fresh mint from the garden. Not as good as your dad could grow it, but tasty.” Tony walked behind the terrace bar and pulled down a glass. Walker glanced again at Madeline as Hal and Kitty murmured to each other. She was giving him a stare of blistering hatred, but it was hard to look away. Madeline had been beautiful as a girl—petite, dark-haired and dark-eyed with a face that could make a man do crazy things—but as a woman, she was nothing short of breathtaking.

Walker had almost sacrificed all of his dreams for her, but pride could go a long way in propelling a young man into his future.

Tony leaned across the bar as he was grinding up fresh mint with a pestle in a small marble bowl and spoke confidentially. “Sorry about Maddie. She's not too keen on you guys being here. Giving me the cold shoulder as well,” Tony added, rolling his eyes. He'd only grown browner during his boat outing today, making him look like a sleek, Greek playboy frolicking in the Mediterranean. The image was both apt and completely off. Tony was Greek-American and Hollywood-handsome, but he was also a genius when it came to computers, a whiz with the fun-loving spirit of a perpetual ten-year-old imp and the libido of a seventeen-year-old boy.

Yeah, that was Tony in a nutshell. Why he'd decided to sell crucial software to the Russian mob had more to do with being adored and spoiled most of his life than any deep, dark thread of evil. Tony probably had figured it was an easy, harmless way to help convince U.S. financial institutions that they desperately needed him and his product. He knew the chances of getting caught were negligible.

He'd have been right if it hadn't been for a childhood friend. Tony had given Walker and his team full access to his private computers. It was just a matter of hours before they had the evidence they needed for an indictment. For his old friend's sake, Walker almost regretted how easy the operation was.

Madeline, Kitty and Hal were discussing restaurants in the Tahoe area when Tony and Walker joined them.

“I'll make a reservation for us at Spinner's Run for brunch tomorrow. You'll love it—terrific food and a wonderful champagne list,” Madeline was telling Kitty and Hal warmly.

“I'd prefer you didn't go out in public until I can get a better understanding of what happened with the shooting,” Walker said as he sat.

Madeline leveled him a glacial stare. Tony picked up her hand and shook it playfully, as if to tease her out of her mood, but Walker knew it would take more than a hand-squeezing to get through to her. He couldn't help but notice what a gorgeous couple they made with their sun-gilded skin, dark hair and white clothing, Madeline's delicate features and large, slightly tilted eyes making such a striking contrast to Tony's bold, masculine features.

The sight of them together made his blood boil.

“I refuse to be held in this house like a prisoner just because some idiot took a potshot at me while I was leaving my mom's house,” she said defiantly.

Walker shrugged and sipped his mojito. “If you do go in public, it would be extremely selfish of you.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means that we can protect you better within the bounds of the Aspen Lodge than we can out in public. If you return to your condo, or the real estate office where you work, or go to your mom's, or wander around wherever your headstrong-self desires, you put everyone in your vicinity at risk. How would you feel if someone else was shot because you went out to get your nails done? If I can contain you, I can contain the threat.”

The fabric of her dress gaped slightly when she jerked forward, gifting him with the sight of the pale inner curves of her small breasts. Madeline's breasts had always driven him crazy.

“I'm not something to be contained, Walker,” she seethed quietly.

“I think that's exactly what you are.”

After an untold period of time, Tony gave a bark of laughter. Walker looked away from eyes so velvety dark brown, they looked black and depthless in the shade of shimmering aspens. Hal joined Tony in mirth.

“Tony said you three have known one another since you were kids. I can tell, only old friends feel so comfortable sniping at each other. So you attended Mount Caramel as well, Walker?” Hal asked amiably as he stroked his wife's shoulder.

“No. My father was a gardener. He was Tony's father's gardener, actually. He wasn't up for the tuition at Mount Caramel.”

Madeline rolled her eyes and sat back in the recliner, obviously barely restraining a hiss of disgust. A becoming blush stained her cheeks. “Your father owned a reputable landscaping company. You make it sound like he was Tony's dad's servant.”

“I thought that's what he was,” Walker commented evenly before he took a sip of his mojito. Some things never changed, like the fact that Madeline refused to understand that Walker and his brother Zach came from a completely different world than the affluent lifestyle she and Tony shared. Walker got why she'd defended so much against his different background when they were younger. If she could have just convinced Walker that he had nothing to prove by taking the job with the Secret Service, he would never have left Tahoe and she wouldn't be hurling visual knives at him at this moment with her spectacular eyes.

“My point is, Mount Caramel was hardly a rich person's school. You always bring it up like it was, and it wasn't. It's your basic Catholic high school, not Eton,” Madeline snapped.

“The only Eton the north shore possessed,” Tony joked, oblivious to the tension in the air and Madeline's mood, which was about ten shades past annoyance. Tony didn't even seem to think much of it when Madeline snatched her hand from his and gazed out at the glistening lake, her face turned in profile.

“How's Billy doing, Walker?” Tony asked, referring to Walker's father. “Last I heard, he was living with Zach in Truckee.”

“My dad died last year,” Walker said quietly.

Madeline's head swung around. When he saw the expression on her face, regret swept through him for being so abrupt. Madeline had adored Billy when she'd been a teenager, and Billy had loved her back.

“No! ” Tony exclaimed, and Walker's regret deepened.

His father had always been great with kids. He'd left his mark on Tony and Madeline. “What happened?” Tony asked.

“A stroke,” Walker said. “It happened the day after Christmas last year. It was in his sleep . . . Quick.”

“Zach was there?” Madeline asked throatily.

Walker nodded. “Yeah, and my nephew Kale.”

“He . . . he didn't suffer? Billy, I mean?” she asked shakily.

He held her gaze and shook his head. Her lips—pink and full and naked of all makeup—parted. Walker suspected she thought of her own father's abrupt death eleven years ago. He saw her throat convulse as she swallowed.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” she said softly. She cast her gaze back to the lake.

“I loved Billy. I'll miss him,” Tony said, sounding a little lost. Tony's brain was hardwired with brilliant equipment, but he responded so frankly at times, so genuinely, it was like he was a simple child. The paradox of Tony wasn't lost on Walker. He guessed many women found that contrast between quirky genius and sweet boy-man endearing. Factor in a face and body worthy of a European playboy, and Walker supposed he could understand Tony's appeal for Madeline.

Sort of.

Not really, but that just might be jealousy talking, Walker admitted to himself as he covertly studied the clean lines of Madeline's profile set against the topaz jewel of the lake. Madeline had a mind like a steel trap. He just couldn't see her being wildly attracted to Tony—couldn't see it when they were kids, still couldn't see it now.

Madeline remained thoughtful and quiet as Hal and Kitty drew Walker into a conversation about what it had been like to be a Secret Service agent. Tony seemed relaxed and content as he listened, the prince in his castle, occasionally asking a few questions and joining in laughter. Madeline's gaze remained on the lake as it deepened in color with encroaching nightfall. She didn't participate in the conversation, but Walker sensed she listened with avid attention.

Or maybe he thought that because he was so hyperaware of her.

After a few minutes, Alessandro, Tony's engaging assistant who did everything from running errands to organizing parties and dinners, came onto the terrace and announced that he'd serve their meal indoors.

Late June days in Tahoe could sizzle, but the evenings cooled considerably. Dinner was served in a glass sanctuary on the west side of the house. Alessandro had set the table with a white tablecloth and several flickering pinecone candles. Tony took the seat at the end of the table and the Margraves sat side by side to the left of him. Madeline gave Walker a repressive glance when he pulled back her chair to seat her. Her sun-gilded back was bare in the halter dress she wore. She wore her long, dark hair in a sleek twist at the back of her head. He could tell by the stiffness of her spine she was miffed when he sat down next to her. He unobtrusively moved his chair nearer to her when he pushed himself toward the table.

He felt her start when he placed his hand on her dress-covered thigh beneath the table. For one second . . . two . . . three, he waited on edge. He barely had attention to focus when Alessandro approached, showing Madeline the label of the wine.

“This is the wine you requested, Ms. Sayer. Would you like to taste it?”

Walker waited, an expression of polite indifference plastered on his face. He'd made it clear to his director at the Secret Service, Mark Eldridge, that he wasn't impartial when it came to this investigation. He'd even warned Eldridge it wasn't a good idea to include him if Madeline was going to be involved. Walker had thought it only fair to tell the truth.

Eldridge had considered all the advantages Walker's inside position offered and sent him anyway.

Walker had convinced himself seducing Madeline could serve a dual purpose. He wasn't entirely being selfish by coming on to her with Tony sitting six feet away. Having an inside position with Madeline could only help matters—both personally and professionally.

Of course, all she had to do was react with insulted outrage at his bold move and Tony would kick him out for good.

Forget playing with fire. This was Madeline. This was tossing lit matches on a cache of dynamite.

Madeline's dark eyes remained fixed on her wineglass as Alessandro poured. She held herself unnaturally still. Walker shifted his hand higher on her thigh. The fabric of the dress she wore was thin. He felt the shape of her perfectly. His cock jerked in arousal.

She picked up the glass and tilted the amber liquid toward her lips.

“It's lovely, Alessandro. Thank you,” she murmured.

Walker forced his mouth not to tilt into a small smile of triumph. Slowly, he began to gather fabric in his fist, lifting her dress, keeping his arm as immobile as possible. Hal bemoaned the fact that he and Kitty had to leave the following day. Hal and Tony began to discuss a future trout-fishing expedition on the Truckee River. Kitty asked Walker where he'd set up his offices in the North Lake Tahoe area, which started a casual conversation about the status of Lake Tahoe real estate. Since Madeline was a successful real-estate agent of luxury properties in the Tahoe area, her silence seemed a little strange. Walker hastened to talk more, covering her preoccupation.

Even though she didn't speak, Walker sensed her pitched focus. Her skin felt like warm satin against his fingertips. At first, her leg muscles remained rigid at his touch. His fingers slid against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

It was as if he'd activated a secret button.

She parted her legs. His fingertips moved like five heat-seeking devices.

I
t was happening again, this hot, unstoppable rush of lust. Madeline couldn't seem to stop it, and she hated that. She despised being at the mercy of Walker.

Her pussy seemed to love it, though.

Taking part in polite dinner conversation while Walker's fingers inched stealthily toward the juncture of her thighs was like being told she needed to complete a complicated math problem while anticipating a delicious rush of pleasure. She felt his warm, large fingertips skim across the top of her thong panties. She realized she was sweating and reached for her glass of ice water.