Secret Agent Seduction (7 page)

“I am,” Lia insisted, scowling. “And he did. I'm just having an off day, that's all. It's been a while.”

She looked so adorably frustrated that Armand took pity on her. He started to sit up. “Here, let me hel—”

“No, no,” she said firmly. “I can do this.
I'll
catch the fish, and
you
can clean and cook them for dinner. How does that sound?”

At the mention of dinner, Armand felt a surge of anticipation that had nothing to do with enjoying a delicious meal. He had another—far better—reason to look forward to dinner that evening.

He and Lia would be completely alone.

Earlier that morning, she'd informed him that the other Secret Service agents were being recalled to Washington to join the president's protection detail. Armand had been thrilled to realize that he would have Lia all to himself for the next three days. Morning, noon and night, she would be his only companion, just as he'd wanted all along. It was almost too good to be true.

“I think I've got something!” Lia cried out excitedly.

Pulled from his pleasant contemplation of the evening ahead, Armand sat up, watching as Lia quickly reeled in her fishing lure. Sure enough, she had hooked a large silver trout weighing at least five pounds, a thing of beauty. But before she could haul it in, the fish wriggled free of the hook and splashed back into the water.

Lia watched, with an expression of abject dismay, as her prize catch swam away valiantly.

Armand waited a beat, then offered the first thing that came to mind. “At least you're making progress. That trout was even bigger than the one you almost caught before.”

Lia gave him a look that told him, in no uncertain terms, just what he could do with his unsolicited feedback. Armand swallowed a bark of laughter.

“If Dad could see me now,” she grumbled, glaring at her fishing rod as if it were the source of all her troubles, “he would disown me.”

“Oh, I doubt that very seriously,” Armand drawled, reaching into the cooler on the floor beside him and pulling out two frosted beers. He twisted the cap off each bottle, then held one out to her. “Why don't you take a short break? Sometimes all you need is a little time to regroup before getting back on the horse.”

Lia eyed the proffered beer for a moment, then, with a resigned sigh, she set down her fishing rod and came toward him.

Their fingers brushed as she took the cold bottle from his hand. Heat shot through his veins at the satin warmth of her skin. His body stirred with desire.

Oblivious to his reaction, Lia plunked down on the seat beside him, lifted the bottle to her lips and took a healthy swig of beer.

Armand studied her profile with a knowing grin. “It kills you, doesn't it?”

“What?” she mumbled sullenly.

“Not being the best at something. It's eating you up inside, isn't it?”

She scowled. “I wouldn't go that far.”

“I would. You've got steam coming out of your ears. Ouch! It just burned me.”

Her lips twitched, fighting the tug of a grin. “All right, so maybe I am a
little
annoyed.”

“Just a little,” Armand said, smiling.

Lia huffed out an indignant breath. “We've been out here for over an hour, and I haven't caught anything!”

“What's the rush?” Armand murmured. “The day's still young. We've got all afternoon.”

“At the rate I'm going,” she grumbled morosely, “it's going to take us
all night.
”

Armand took a long sip of his beer, thinking of at least two other things he'd rather be doing with Lia all night. Fishing was not one of them.

“I don't understand what the problem is,” she continued in exasperation. “I've never had this much trouble before. The first time I went fishing with my father, I was only seven years old, and I caught plenty of fish the first hour we were out there! Same as every other time we went fishing. Now I'll be lucky if I catch just one before we leave.”

Armand leaned back on his elbows, a soft, whimsical smile playing about the corners of his mouth. “Maybe I'm the problem,” he mused. “Maybe I'm bringing you bad luck.”

Lia shot him a dark look. “Now that you mention it, the same thought had occurred to me.”

When Armand roared with laughter, Lia grinned at him. With her long, black hair scooped into a ponytail, she looked so much like the spirited young beauty who'd captivated him all those years ago that for a moment he almost forgot they weren't back in Muwaiti. But the sight of the Glock 9mm sidearm holstered at her waist served as a sobering reminder that things were not the same as they had been eight years ago.

In more ways than one.

Determined to keep reality at bay, at least for a while longer, Armand smiled gently at Lia. “When was the last time you went fishing with your father?”

“Six years ago,” she answered. “He and my mother took me on a two-week cross-country trip the summer I graduated from college, before I started my job at the Secret Service. Dad said it would probably be a long time before we could all go on another vacation together, so he wanted to make it really special.”

“And was it?”

Lia nodded. “Most definitely,” she said, smiling at the memory. “We rented an RV and drove from our home in Arlington, Virginia, all the way to California. Along the way, we visited just about every national historic landmark we could, including a number of slave houses and presidential museums, Churchill Downs, the Saint Louis Arch, Rocky Mountain National Park, the Grand Canyon, the vineyards in Napa Valley and Alcatraz Island. We ended our trip at Lake Tahoe, where my father and I went camping, hiking, sailboating and fishing while my mother mostly stayed behind at the cabin and tried to recover from our travels.”

Armand chuckled. “I don't blame her. It sounds like quite an adventure you had.”

“Oh, it was,” Lia agreed, her smile widening as she warmed to her subject. “I'd never been to any of those places before, so it really was a treat.”

“Your family didn't travel a lot during your childhood?”

She laughed. “On the contrary. We traveled
all
the time. Just not in the United States. See, my father was in the foreign service, so I grew up mostly overseas. While most American kids spent their summer vacations at camp or amusement parks, I was moving all over Europe and Africa. By the time I was thirteen years old, we had lived in England, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, Senegal and South Africa.”

Armand whistled softly through his teeth. “Quite the world traveler, weren't you?”

Lia grinned ruefully. “You could say that. Now don't get me wrong. I had a very fun, exciting childhood. I was constantly exposed to different people, languages and cultures, and I wouldn't trade those wonderful experiences for anything in the world. But the downside of moving around so much was that I never really felt rooted anywhere. We were always on the go, like a Gypsy caravan. In fact, that's what one of my tutors called me—her little American Gypsy.”

Armand smiled softly. “You have eyes like a Gypsy. Did she ever tell you that?”

Lia nodded, chuckling. “All the time.”

“Too bad,” Armand said huskily. “I was hoping to be the first.”

Lia met his gaze, her smile fading. Armand could tell by the way her eyes narrowed slightly that she'd caught his double meaning. Afraid that she'd put an abrupt end to the conversation and resume fishing, he smothered a wicked grin and returned to the original subject.

“Of all the places you lived, what was your favorite?” he asked.

Thankfully she took the bait. “Hmm. Let me see…” She pursed her full lips, pondering the question for a moment. “It's hard for me to pick a favorite. Each place was so unique and different from the rest, and of course, they all had their pluses and minuses. But if I absolutely had to choose a favorite place, I would say Senegal. I'll always remember the breathtakingly beautiful beaches, the exotic food and music, the vibrant people and customs. Come to think of it,” she said with a surprised little smile, “I loved Senegal for many of the same reasons I loved Muwaiti so much.”

Armand felt a thrill of pleasure at her words, similar to the way he'd felt earlier when Lia had revealed to him that she hadn't wanted to leave Muwaiti eight years ago, that she'd felt as if she were leaving a part of herself behind. To know that she loved his homeland even half as much as he did made his chest swell with pride and satisfaction. It also made him feel ridiculously euphoric and hopeful for the future. Because if Lia truly loved Muwaiti and wanted to see the country restored to the peaceful paradise she remembered, then just maybe—

Armand stopped himself, shaken by the direction of his thoughts.
Don't get ahead of yourself, Magliore. Concentrate on surviving the next nine days before you go making any plans for your future, let alone someone else's.

“Because we never stayed anywhere longer than two years,” Lia was saying, “I tried not to become too attached to any one country. Like I said before, it was hard to feel rooted to a place when you knew you'd be packing up and leaving at any time. Thankfully, I had the kind of parents who made anywhere we lived feel like home.”

Armand noted the softness that filled her voice and the warm glow that lit her dark eyes whenever she spoke about her parents. He wanted to keep her talking, wanted to learn everything there was to know about her. What made her happy? Or angry? What was her favorite novel? Did she live alone or with a roommate? Had she ever been in love or lost her heart to anyone?

Okay, Armand amended, maybe he'd rather
not
hear the answer to those last two questions.

“Do your parents still live in Virginia?” he asked instead.

Lia nodded. “My father is retired from the foreign service, and he and my mom spend most of their free time putting around in their garden, traveling—no, they haven't had enough—and doing a lot of community outreach and fundraising. They like to keep busy, which works out fabulously for me. The busier they are, the less time they have to worry about me and my dangerous job.” She chuckled wryly, leaning back and propping her booted feet up on the opposite seat. “Never mind that the kind of upbringing I had pretty much guaranteed that I could never settle for a safe, boring desk job.”

“Naturally.” Armand grinned, giving her a deliberate once-over. “And somehow I can't see you confined to a safe, boring desk job anyway.”

She gave a husky little laugh that made his pulse leap. “Thanks. I will definitely take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” he murmured. “It was.”

When Lia took a sip of her beer, Armand forced himself not to stare at the sight of her lush, pretty lips wrapped around the rim of the bottle, forced himself not to groan when the pink tip of her tongue flicked out to swipe a droplet of beer from her lower lip. She was a lethal combination of innocence and eroticism, strength, beauty and intelligence. It took his breath away.

Even though her posture was relaxed, he'd noted the way her dark, watchful eyes periodically scanned the surrounding forest, searching for any unseen threat.

The things a man could accomplish with a woman like her by his side, Armand thought.

Nursing their beers, they lapsed into companionable silence, lulled by the warmth of the afternoon sun on their faces, the lazy drone of a hummingbird hovering nearby, the gentle rocking motions of the boat as it bobbed in the water. Armand couldn't remember the last time he'd ever felt so relaxed and at peace with himself and his surroundings.

It had been far too long.

At length, Lia broke the silence between them. “So what about you, Magliore? What was it like growing up on a tropical island?”

He gave her an amused sidelong glance. “I can guarantee you it wasn't half as exciting as your globe-trotting childhood.”

She smiled easily at him. “Let me be the judge of that.”

“All right,” said Armand, setting aside his empty beer bottle and hooking his hands behind his head once again. For a moment he idly surveyed their booted feet, which were propped side by side on the opposite seat. He noted the differences in their shoe sizes, struck by how much larger his own feet were. Lia Charles may be a fierce warrior, but she was also a warm, beautiful, undeniably feminine woman.

“As you might imagine,” he began, “I spent much of my childhood on the water. Just to give you an idea of how much the ocean was a part of me, I learned how to swim before I could walk. I went swimming every day after school and on the weekends as soon as I finished my chores. My friends and I used to go deep-sea diving all the time. We spent hours exploring rock formations and the coral reefs, which were pretty amazing. But even when I wasn't
in
the water, I had to be
near
it. I would walk up and down the shoreline, studying tide pool after tide pool until my parents called me inside. They usually had to send my younger brother or sister to get me. That's when I would know I was in big trouble,” he added with a soft, reminiscent chuckle.