The Spy Who Loves Me (6 page)

Finn crossed his arms and scowled, trying hard not to laugh himself.

“Of course, just because you need to avoid her doesn't mean you need to avoid all females. Maybe you just need to get laid.”

“David!” The surprisingly strong voice came from Millie, and Finn turned to see her and Jacey walking past a card table stacked with old T-shirts, and well within earshot. “Such talk. The boy needs to find a wife, not a warm body. Isn't that right, Finn?”

Finn turned to face the older woman, realizing he'd just been saddled with a When did you quit beating your wife? question. If he said no, then he sounded like he just wanted to boff any female who wandered by. If he said yes, he was giving Millie license to search out eligible females.

“Absolutely,” he finally said. It was, after all, the only reasonable reply, since Millie would commence a scorched earth campaign to find him a wife no matter how he answered.

“Good boy.” She pointed a finger at David. “You behave.”

David managed to look both amused and sheepish at the same time. “Yes, ma'am.”

Finn threw an arm around the older woman's shoulder. “I thought you and Jacey were watching Mel.”

Jacey shook her head, her red hair dappled with sunlight. “Apparently, you rank. Millie actually turned the television off and said we had to come say hi.”

“Really?” Finn stood straighter and puffed out his chest, then pretended to buff his fingernails on his T-shirt.

“Now don't go getting a big head,” Millie said. “It was a videotape, and I can start it up again right where I left off. If it had been HBO, I might not be down here talking to you.”

At that, Finn and Jacey exchanged a glance, then both laughed. David moved up from behind Finn and put an arm around Jacey, who snuggled against his side. It was a nice, comfortable gesture, and Finn felt a pang of something akin to jealousy.

“I take it you haven't got a girl yet?” Millie continued, in typical Millie fashion.

“Not yet,” he admitted.

“He's working on it, though,” David put in. “There's one he's following around just like a puppy dog. If he's pathetic enough, maybe she'll adopt him.”

Finn shot his friend a scathing look; David just smiled.

Millie ignored her nephew. “We need to find you a wife.” She tapped a finger against her chin, then perked up. “Have you met Doreen?” Doreen cleaned the house twice a week. Before David had met Jacey, Millie had tried to set him up with the girl.

“Millie,” David said, a note of warning in his voice.

Her eyes went wide, the picture of innocence. “What? I just want to see both my boys settled down.”

“I think Doreen's married,” Finn said.

Millie's face fell. “You mean she found a young man nicer than you?”

“Hard to believe, I know,” Finn said.

“Well, there must be someone else.” The finger was tapping again, and Finn imagined her flipping through the cards in a mental Rolodex.
“She
looks nice,” Millie said, nodding somewhere behind Finn. His stomach sank. Surely the attractive brunette hadn't overheard this bizarre conversation.
Had she?

He turned slowly, relieved to see that she was too far away to actually hear their conversation. Besides, she seemed engrossed in checking out David's old paperback novels.

“Now that's a woman who looks bright,” Millie said. “Very sweet. Clearly intelligent. A good match.” She gave him a tiny shove in the lower back, egging him toward her.

He glanced back, frowning. “And you can tell this how? By the keen way she's inspecting David's old dime novels?”

“She has clever eyes,” Millie said, her chin going up.

“You can't even see her eyes from your angle,” David said.

Millie just pursed her lips. “I better go talk to her,” she said. “She might have questions about those books.”

She started stepping in that direction, but David managed to catch her by the elbow.

Finn nodded toward the house. “I'm going to go inside and raid the refrigerator,” he said. “And Millie's coming with me.”

“But—” she started.

“Because I'm not interested,” Finn finished. “Not at all.”

But right then, the brunette turned, and Finn realized he had to eat his words. The woman standing there—the sexy creature wearing tight navy blue pants and sporting a bare midriff—was none other than Amber Robinson.

And, truth be told, Finn was very interested indeed.

W
ith a glorious sigh, Diana sank down in the mud, letting the warm goo ease over her breasts.
Heaven.
Beside her, a uniformed attendant bent down to adjust the temperature knobs on the tub.

“Comfortable?” he asked. “Can I get you anything?”

She nailed him with a regal stare. Really, would the man never leave? He'd been puttering around for at least ten minutes.

“The lady is fine,” Drake said from the tub beside her. Like her, he was almost completely submerged. “Or she
will
be fine once we have some privacy.”

The attendant shot Drake a venomous look, and Diana bit back a sigh of exasperation. She adored Drake, but he needed to learn how to address the little people. What kind of service would they get if he irritated their attendant?

“We're fine,” she said, hoping to appease the boy. “Perhaps you could come back and check on us in twenty minutes?”

The attendant looked from her to Drake, then gave a curt, subservient nod. He crossed over the redwood decking to the door back into the facility, leaving her and Drake alone in their tubs, a stunning view of the Los Angeles basin looming before them.

“So what the fuck does he want?” Drake said as the door swung shut. He wasn't referring to the attendant.

Diana knew exactly whom he was talking about—Phineus Teague. Unfortunately, she didn't know the answer to Drake's question, and that irritated her. Diana hated being unprepared.

Drake smiled, that sexy, smoldering grin she knew so well. Then he pushed himself all the way out of the tub, the muscles in his arms flexing with the effort to lift the rest of his body. He stood there naked, gleaming and hard despite the muck and mire stuck to him. And then he casually stepped out of the tub, crossed the two paces to her mud bath, and climbed in to join her.

His foot grazed the inside of her thigh. “It's okay, babe. Just tell me what you do know,” he said, the touch both relaxing and stimulating.

She eased lower into the mud. “I don't know much. He's my neighbor, and he's following me. Or he was until I lost him.
After
I had a little fun with him.” She reached for the Perrier, then took a long swallow of water. “I've started gathering information, but right now all I really know is his name, his phone numbers, and his employer.”

“A lawyer, you said,” Drake noted.

“Basic commercial business litigation.” She shrugged. “Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine.”

Drake closed his eyes, his fingers intertwined beneath his chin. Diana took another sip of her water and studied his face. It was a strong face, the tiny wrinkles around his eyes and mouth adding character to the hard planes. It was also a recognizable face, and he'd taken a risk coming to the spa. Still, it was a risk he took at least monthly, saying he needed the relaxation. She didn't doubt it. Drake was as attractive as ever, but his eyes were tired and his skin was sallow. He was pushing himself to exhaustion, and she worried about him.

After this gig, he'd promised they would retire. But she doubted it. He already had more money than God, so she didn't believe he'd simply stop when his offshore accounts topped ten billion. And it wasn't really about revenge, even though Drake said it was. He probably even believed it. But Diana knew better. It was the chase that thrilled Drake. The hunt. The euphoria of sneaking a cookie out of the cookie jar.

She understood. She'd had more than her share of cookies, too, and she was still coming back for more.

Drake had pushed the envelope all his life, and his reward had been misunderstanding and misapprehension. He should never have ended up a criminal, but the government fools hadn't understood his particular brilliance. So now he had to move in shadows, cast in disguises. The theatrics of it suited him well.

But despite the shadows and the disguise, there was no escaping Drake's dark good looks. The man emitted some compelling force. Diana had counted five women as they'd passed through the spa to their private room, and each of the five had turned to watch Drake pass, their perky little breasts practically saluting.

But they couldn't have him. Drake was all hers. She was the one his eyes burned for at night, and no matter what, she intended to be the only woman who ever graced his bed.

“I don't want to speculate,” he said, his eyes still closed. “I want to
know
who this wild card is.” His eyes opened, dark and demanding. “It's your job to find out.”

Diana pulled back, away from the persistent brush of his foot against her thigh. Her body tensed, anger flaring. But she tamped it down. He was right. Drake had trusted her with this mission, and that included dealing with her damn nosy neighbor. Still, justified or not, she didn't like it when Drake was mad.

“Maybe he's just a guy,” she said, her voice even. She traced her fingertips down her neck and between her breasts. “Maybe he thinks I'm hot.” She added a little pout to her voice, just for effect. It worked.

A chuckle erupted, starting from somewhere low in his chest. “Di, you're right. I'm an asshole.”

Victorious, she leaned back, sliding her foot up to nestle at his crotch. “I just want you to remember what's important.”

“You know I'd never forget.” He closed his hand over her foot, pressing his fingertips into the tender arch and sending a flurry of activity racing through her blood. There were a lot of reasons why she was with Drake Mackenzie; the fact that together they could turn a bed to cinders was only one.

He rubbed her foot against him, and she pressed down with her toes. She wanted to feel him harden beneath her, to know she'd won, but already he was back in control. One slight concession to her ego, and then he'd replaced his blood with ice. It was the trait she most admired in him. And most despised.

“What else?” he asked, pure business once again.

She licked her lips, tempted to turn the charm up, to try once more to win their little game. But she didn't. It wouldn't work, anyway. “The truth is, I can't figure out what he's up to. It's driving me nuts.” Diana didn't like things messy, and her neighbor had the potential to create a very big mess.

Drake nodded, rubbing his chin. “Well, you'll just have to keep trying, won't you, babe?”

“I'll do what I can,” she replied tersely. “I seem to recall being assigned a very tight schedule.”

“One we need to keep. Our bidders have already RSVP'd for the demonstration. Any more mistakes and we'll not only lose face, we'll lose billions.” He squeezed her foot. “And our Oscar-worthy performance will be nothing more than a dim figment of your imagination instead of a pyrotechnical reality.”

Her heart went pitty-pat. How many men would threaten to blow up the Hollywood sign? Not many. But Drake was doing just that for her. Well, not
only
for her. But that's what made them so good together. The way their goals intertwined. His for money and revenge, and hers for, well, money and revenge. “I love you.”

“I know,” he said.

She frowned. “But surely this guy isn't a serious threat. You said we were under the radar on this one.” Of course, he'd said that before their test run, too, and that had been a fiasco.

“I'm not a miracle worker,” he said with a scowl. “We've already had one screwup. I'm not going to risk another.”

She nodded. The failure of the access code had been a huge setback. Once he'd calmed down, Drake had contacted his silent partner and was assured that the changed code had been the result of an underling's unfortunate attack of conscience. Drake's identity and plan remained unknown to the agency. Diana had her doubts, but Drake seemed convinced, citing old alliances and shared secrets. More, he'd refused to move back the demonstration, meaning they had to obtain the new access code.

In that regard, Diana's talents had proved useful. She cracked the code and, she thought, all was well. It wasn't. ZAEL implemented a changing code, reprogramming the access information every three hours. A smart move on ZAEL's part, but it put Diana in an impossible position. The software she'd developed took days, not hours, to ferret out access information.

Which meant they had only one choice, and that was to go in through a back door. Drake's invisible partner had pointed them to the man with the key to that door, and Drake had again turned to Diana, citing the need for her
other
talents.

His brow furrowed. “We
will
have control of the system in time, won't we?”

“Of course,” she snapped, irritated at the hint of accusation. After all, she wasn't the one who set the presentation so soon. Only two more days, and he expected miracles. Defiant, she met his eyes. “It's all arranged. I'm meeting with Poindexter, and tonight's the night. Don't worry. I know exactly what we need.” She slicked her hair back from her face, her distaste palpable. The job was too unpleasant by half.

“Good,” he said. He squeezed her foot again, and she felt him harden under her touch.

She shivered slightly. “I don't want to sleep with him.”

“But if you have to, you will.”

“Of course.” But she'd close her eyes and think of Drake.

“As for the neighbor,” he said, “give me the name, and I'll see what I can find out.”

“Phineus Teague,” she said.

“Phineus? What the hell kind of name is that?”

“His, apparently.”

Drake snorted. “Well, Mister Phineus Teague,” he said, “I hope you're just angling for a quick roll with my lady. Because if you're up to anything else, your ass is toast.”