WOULD-BE CHRISTMAS WEDDING (4 page)

He gave her an arch look.

“I have relatives who are also in security-related jobs. Par for the course this close to DC,” she added, wishing he’d take the bait and elaborate. Wishing she had the courage to demand clarification. It felt so uneven to be this attracted to a virtual stranger without any idea if his responses were sincere. It was an odd sensation to realize someday in the field someone would look at her and wonder the same thing.

“It’s a habit we all develop, I suppose.”

“A matter of survival,” she agreed. “Or so they tell me.” Come January she’d be getting the training firsthand. No more inferring from the vague references her family made. It was an exciting thought, and she grinned with anticipation.

“Now, that’s quite a look, Mrs. Manning.”

“Cecelia,” she corrected. “I’m changing jobs after the holidays and whenever I think about it, I get excited.”

“What type of change?” He pulled open the door of the restaurant and she stepped into the dim alcove.

“Just something more active.” If he could hedge, so could she. It was good practice, anyway. “My company had openings in another department. All the recent charity endeavors made me realize I’m ready to get out from behind a desk.”

He gave his name to the hostess and they were seated immediately. “What have you been doing?” he asked when they were settled in a cozy corner booth.

“I focus on basic administration for the human resources department. It’s utterly boring, sifting through the same documents day in and day out. The job served its purpose while our daughter was growing up, but I’m ready to branch out now.”

“You seem eager to try something new.”

“Precisely.” A man as perceptive as Emmett had probably already noticed that her hormones were willing to start that something new with him at the first opportunity.

The waiter came by with water and offered the evening’s specials. They ordered drinks and the sampler of appetizers and Cecelia returned to her task of trying to unravel Emmett’s motives.

“How long will you be in town?”

“Probably just through the weekend.”

“Probably?” she echoed. Where had her conversational skills gone? He’d been trained to divert the curiosity she was so clearly showing, but she could do better.

“I’m really just here for you. For the gala,” he added as though it was an afterthought. “Haven’t had much cause to pull out the penguin suit lately, figured I should enjoy it. After that, it’s back to work.”

“In DC?”

“Same as everyone else in this area,” he said with that half smile that made her want to sigh.

She agreed with a nod. “You won’t take time off for the holidays?” Before her brother’s announcement this afternoon, she’d been determined to boldly invite him to join her on a beach in the Caymans in a few days’ time.

“Someone has to keep the office running. All the other guys have family.” He shrugged. “I volunteer to stick around on holidays and put out the occasional fire so they don’t have to.”

“That’s thoughtful of you.”

One shoulder hitched in a casual shrug. “When you have kids, you should be there for them.”

“That was my philosophy.”

But now it was her turn to do something solely for herself... The problem was, this part may have been a mistake.

Chapter Five

Holt gave her credit for a gentle interrogation style, but he recognized the effort for what it was. It might only be first-date protocol, but maybe Isely had been right and Casey had started moving to intercept him already.

How to ask her what she knew without blowing it all to hell? That was the real question.

He started to ask then paused when the phone Isely had given him shivered in his pocket. It would likely be the address where he was supposed to stash Cecelia tomorrow night. He’d spotted a couple of Isely’s men in the area already and the idea made him wary about being tailed.

“Excuse me one second.”

He checked the phone and his stomach clutched when he read the terse message and recognized the address of a local warehouse. His worst fear confirmed. Isely’s men had informed their boss that Holt and Cecelia were together and Isely wanted her tonight.
Damn it.
Holt needed to slow things down or his whole counter-operation would crash and burn. Isely might get a measure of revenge moving in on Cecelia tonight, but he wouldn’t get the full effect Holt had promised when they’d been planning and negotiating terms.

“Problem?”

“No, not at all.” He smiled and put the phone away. “Just a work thing.”

“I understand. It happens.”

She looked more disappointed than understanding. Her late husband had probably ruined many personal evenings with sensitive work distractions. Holt had the strange urge to show her a different side of men in security-related careers.

Not smart.

He turned the phone off and showed her the black screen before tucking it into his coat pocket. “There. I’m off the clock. Meant to do that earlier, but I needed the navigation app.” Her smile was worth the lie. Worth all of the lies he’d been telling lately.

The appetizer sampler arrived and for a few minutes they just indulged in the cheese and cured meat selection. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this comfortable, this normal with a woman. Especially a woman who was a target.

Her manners were perfect society matron, but her little hum of appreciation as her lips closed over her fork had him thinking of other things. Things he had no business thinking about with a woman like Cecelia Manning.

She was a gorgeous, walking temptation with her feminine curves, long golden hair and wide blue eyes. He knew from her profile and additional background searches she kept herself fit with tennis and yoga. Yoga meant flexibility.

A few images from the Kama Sutra zipped through his mind like a slideshow and he nearly choked on the cracker in his mouth. Giving in to lust wouldn’t do either of them any good. If he lived through the next forty-eight hours, he might ask her for a do-over and take her on a real date that didn’t involve looming thugs happy to do the bidding of a famous crime boss.

Of course, dating her for real meant Director Casey would definitely kill him. The entire concept was irrelevant. His career allowed no time for the sort of commitment a woman like her would require.

He caught her checking her watch. “Am I boring you already?”

“No, not at all.” Her smile was apologetic. “Just a mother’s habit. My daughter’s new husband is flying in tonight. I’m expecting her to call or text and let me know he arrived.”

“They came to support you for tomorrow’s gala?”

“And an early Christmas weekend, just the three of us.” She sipped her wine. “They’ll spend the real holiday with his mother in Florida. None of them are much for cold weather.”

“What about you?”

“It doesn’t bother me much. Winter’s part of life.” Her eyes went wide and she laughed. “I sound like some cheesy book on the self-help clearance rack.”

“No apology necessary. Without winter we don’t appreciate spring and summer. But a snowblower makes life easier.”

“Very true.”

“Is it a challenge?”

“What do you mean?”

“Watching your married daughter so recently after losing your husband?” He cursed himself. Hadn’t meant to say that. Bringing up an ex was bad enough on a first date, but dredging up her dead husband, a man whom she’d loved deeply by all accounts? He was starting to understand why he didn’t bother with dating. He sucked at it. “You really don’t have to answer that.”

“It’s okay.” She rested her fork against the small plate. “Losing William was the worst thing I’ve had to deal with.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. “Well, you have some idea.”

“Pardon?”

“You said you saw the video.”

“Right. I did. Go on.”

“Losing a spouse isn’t an easy road, and getting past it doesn’t seem to be something most people understand. This might sound harsh, but I can honestly say I’m comfortable with where I am now and who I want to become.”

He couldn’t reply. The emotions swirling in her eyes and that quick, nervous nip and release of her lower lip told him more than she wanted to reveal, he was sure. But her voice had been steady. She really was ready to move on with her life.

It made him feel even more like an ass for deceiving her.

The online dating thing had been the perfect ploy. The donation only added to the good-guy points he’d been racking up. By tomorrow, when she knew who he really was and why he’d approached her, she’d probably never forgive him.

Over the rim of her wineglass, she studied him, her expression contemplative.

To keep from squirming, he chose a successful field-tested tactic and went on the offensive. “Like what you see?”

“I think you know I do.”

He leaned forward. “Want to do anything about it?”

“I believe I do.” She leaned forward, as well. “Let’s start with dinner.”

They laughed, but there was no mistaking the building sexual tension between them. The conversation continued as if they were old friends rather than potential new adversaries, until the meal was delivered by the manager, who took the opportunity to greet Cecelia and chat briefly about tomorrow’s event.

When they had the table to themselves again, Holt glanced up from the task of slicing his steak. “Does everyone in town know you?”

“Only the people who’ve helped with the fundraisers. The manager here donated a romantic dinner package to the silent auction.”

Holt took a bite and nearly sighed with pleasure. “I may have to make a bid,” he said. “This is worth a second trip.”

She grinned. “Good plan.”

Things were going so well Holt almost let down his guard and enjoyed himself. What he’d started as basic recon after that nasty warning message from Isely had turned to a genuine long-distance attraction. He’d been captivated by the depth of personality she expressed in their emails and brief phone calls. She was much more than a beautiful widow with a caring nature balanced by brains and a clever wit.

In person, all of that was magnified. He was more than a little startled by how much he liked her. Typically, he didn’t like getting to know people—so few were reliable and everyone wanted something—but Cecelia Manning was the exception that made him want to bend his rules about relationships.

Except this
wasn’t
a relationship. He had to remember this was the most critical mission of his life. If he botched this, her hurt feelings would be the least of his problems. His boss would lose his sister and their covert team of Specialists would be exposed.

Holt had enough experience to know you didn’t reach the goal by dwelling on all the things that could go wrong. There were already so many things wrong with this situation, starting with his general trepidation about ruining tomorrow’s event, even by necessity. Yet dwelling on what could go right filled his head with thoughts of a more personal nature. If he’d suspected this kind of complication, he never would have opened an online dating account with which to lure her.

“I apologize,” she said suddenly.

He questioned her with raised eyebrow.

“I’ve been rambling. I know you donated to the charity, but that doesn’t mean you want to know about the minutiae involved behind the scenes. It’s just filled all of my waking hours these last weeks.”

“I enjoy listening to you.” It might be the truest thing he’d said all night. Her smooth voice was like cool water after a long run on a hot summer day. It just rolled over him, easing the tension he’d been hauling around since his first contact with Isely.

“Uh-huh.”
She rolled her full lips between her teeth as if she was trying not to laugh. “You glazed over for a minute.”

“If I glazed over, it was because I was thinking about things I shouldn’t be thinking about.”

“Work?”

“No.” He loaded the word with enough meaning to imply he’d been thinking something much more personal and immediate. Intimate. And while it wasn’t another outright lie, he needed to avoid all of the above. If he kept her out of Isely’s clutches, she would never need to know the difference.

He reached across the table for her hand, then hesitated just before he touched her, giving her a chance to retreat. She didn’t. Her gaze on his, she turned her hand over and used her thumb to trace the long scar that curved down the length of his index finger.

It was all he could do not to flinch from the gentle contact.

“Tell me about yourself.”

“Not much to tell.” He was a spy who didn’t exist, a man who wouldn’t exist if he didn’t find a way to rein in Isely once and for all. He looked away, took in the perimeter of the room once more. “It was all in my profile. I’m not the sort to hold back.”

She tipped her head to the side and traced that scar again. He wanted to tremble.

“I don’t remember anything in your profile about this.”

With her touching it, he was having trouble remembering the incident himself. The scar was a souvenir from a mission in Dubai. It had required minor surgery and months of rehabilitation for the nerves to recover and settle back to normal. If she kept caressing that thin white line, the nerves might never settle again.

“I slammed it in a car door and wound up needing minor surgery. Interesting process, really.” He tilted his hand to look at it himself, but didn’t withdraw from her touch.

“The recovery?”

“No. The surgery.”

Her pale eyebrows arched and her whole body went still. He found himself fascinated by the reaction, wondering how she might react in other situations. “You watched them operate?”

“Sure,” he said with a shrug. “They gave me a nerve block.” Since he’d gone into the mission alone, he hadn’t had anyone around to watch his back. General anesthesia would have left him too vulnerable.

“That’s...”

Vulgar, sick, disgusting.
He was ready for all of those words and worse.

“Amazing,” she said, stroking her thumb across the ridge of his knuckles.

When had such a basic touch turned so damn hot? “Pardon me?”

“You heard me. Very few people have that kind of curiosity. Or courage.”

“I don’t know about courage.” If he’d been wearing a tie, he would’ve tugged at it. Her eyes held something he’d rarely seen aimed his way—admiration. It left him speechless. He pulled his hand away. “Maybe I’m just an incurable insomniac.”

She laughed, and he almost laughed with her, except one of Isely’s crew chose that moment to lumber into the restaurant bar. The dark-haired man, whom Holt knew as Cal, took up residence on a bar stool where he could clearly observe Cecelia.

Isely’s teams were nothing if not well trained. They were always in pairs, which meant at least one more man was waiting outside or in the kitchen, ready to take Cecelia off Holt’s hands. Tonight was the wrong time to kidnap her, but Isely seemed determined to do so. What had accelerated his timetable?

Turning off the phone had clearly been a mistake. He should have anticipated the active response. Men like Isely, who were used to having every order obeyed out of blind fear if not devotion to the cause, didn’t take it well when they were ignored.

“Dessert?”

“Not for me,” she replied. “But I’ll have a cup of coffee if you want to give the chocolate torte a try. It’s marvelous.”

He could tell she wanted to check her watch or her phone for word from her daughter. “I probably shouldn’t keep you out so late,” he said. “Your family is in town and tomorrow’s a big day for you.”

“Our walk-through this morning went well. Everything is in place and tomorrow is just a matter of the finishing touches.” As if to emphasize the word, she touched him again. “I’m glad you’ll be there.”

“Me, too.”

He hoped they would both be there. If Isely succeeded tonight, Holt’s survival would be in the hands of the director. He didn’t maintain much hope that that particular source of judgment would end in his favor.

“Let’s take pity on the waiter and get out of here.” He signaled for the check while she polished off the last bit of wine in her glass.

Times like this reminded him a lack of family was a good thing. Enduring a few lonely holidays was no real hardship if it meant there was no one to get hurt on his behalf. He knew these threats against Cecelia were harder on the director than any of the missions he sent Specialists out to salvage.

Business was one thing. Specialists were trained and willingly stepped into dangerous situations. But knowing an old mission and a current teammate had breached security to put a target on his sister’s back? That would have any decent man twisted up and ready to shoot first and ask questions later.

It was one reason Director Casey’s recent marriage baffled Holt. The man’s personal philosophy of remaining a loner had been a solid foundation he’d adopted long before joining Mission Recovery. Covert operations just didn’t mix well with family dinners, piano recitals and summer vacations. Even dating was a serious minefield when it got tangled up with the job.

“You look troubled,” she said, pulling her hair from under the collar of her coat.

“Then it’s my turn to beg forgiveness.” He raised her hand to his lips and winked as he pressed a light kiss to her knuckles before she could put on her gloves. “Can I walk you back to your car?”

“You could walk me back to the hotel. I’m staying there through the weekend.”