The only thing six months of undercover work have gotten FBI Agent Tony Driscoll is a chronic case of the hots for Blythe Smithers—an itch he definitely decides needs scratching. Blythe’s been waiting for Mr. Right, but what harm is there in a little fling with the sexy massage therapist while biding her time?
A tryst turns into teamwork as Tony and Blythe search for smuggled diamonds—a fortune someone is willing to kill to possess. As love nudges lust aside, can Tony and Blythe live long enough to enjoy it?
EXCERPT
Blythe Smithers didn’t know whether to bless the week of
freedom from her boss or curse it. Stephanie Cambridge had piled up as much
work on Blythe’s desk as if she were actually there. Maybe even more.
She rifled through yet another mismatched stack of papers
and notes Stephanie had left—the fourth she’d found since she arrived at work
three hours before. Heaven forbid the woman use a computer. She depended
heavily on Blythe for that type of thing—maintaining the accounts, researching
suppliers on the internet, drafting proposal layouts, and handling the billing.
Stephanie’s mind worked too fast for the electronic world…or
so she claimed. Blythe wisely kept quiet about Stephanie’s obsessive need for a
cell phone. She couldn’t have a computer, but she had to have a cell phone? The
woman didn’t make sense. In any event, a note or idea scribbled on the nearest
piece of paper was good enough for Stephanie. Blythe swore coffee ran through
the woman’s veins. She also didn’t have the patience to sit and learn something
new and was always darting around like a hummingbird on speed.
It wasn’t the best way to organize a business, and if Blythe
didn’t know better, she’d swear Stephanie was constantly distracted. But her
system, such as it was, worked for her. Very successfully, too.
Crazy as it was at Cambridge Designs, Blythe was lucky to
have a job with the designer. She’d learned more about interior design in the
six months she’d been with Stephanie than she had in all those years of
college. The stress was enough to make a saint swear, but Blythe was determined
to keep up with her boss or die trying. Disorganization was Stephanie’s middle
name, but somehow it all fell into place seamlessly in the end—probably due to
Blythe’s organizational skills and Stephanie’s boundless energy.
She flipped the stack over to start at the
bottom—Stephanie’s first instructions. Stephanie must have spent the weekend
writing them. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about her boss adding to the
list. Stephanie wouldn’t slow down long enough to call, and Blythe avoided
calling her cell phone like the plague. Dealing with Stephanie in person was
hard enough; on the phone, it was impossible.
Fabric swatches Jensen’s living room furniture.
Order drapery fabric Dr. Sanchez. Two orders—home,
office.
Earth to Stephanie. That was last week and the fabric was
already here—a beautiful cream damask for the office, blue-violet for home.
Confirm delivery Carters.
Blythe sorted each note into the piles she’d started
earlier. “There has to be a good five hundred messages here.”
“At least.”
Blythe jumped at the sound of the man’s voice. Papers
exploded from her hand and scattered to the desk.
She flashed a scowl his way. Tony Driscoll merely smiled.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Blythe forced herself to look away. The man was eye-candy
that was for sure. Blond hair dusted his collar and complemented his brown
eyes. He had a body that looked sculpted to perfection and made for exploring.
A ready smile, pleasant personality, and quick wit only added to her distress.
She hated the effect the man had on her. At least she didn’t
go all quivery in the knees when she saw him anymore. That was one saving
grace. But she still craved his body more than she cared to admit. And she
hated herself for that.
She shuffled the papers back together to sort once more.
“What are you doing here?”
He braced his forearms on the edge of her cluttered desk and
leaned closer. “You’re joking, right? I come here every day at this time.”
How could she forget? For the first few weeks she worked
here, she'd waited with breath held for his arrival. That lasted as long as it
took her to realize things just wouldn’t work out. He was for play, not for
keeps. And Blythe didn’t have time for games, especially with a man who settled
for being a masseur. She needed a man with a little more ambition than that. Someone
to match her. A man she could be an equal with, not someone she could control.
This charmer was about one thing only—taking the easy road.
“Stephanie’s gone this week to a conference.” Blythe tried
her best to ignore him, but the scent that was uniquely his— a hint of spicy
aftershave and male—wafted over her, making her tingle in places she wished she
could ignore.
“Odd. She normally lets me know so I can schedule someone
else in her place.”
“She decided to go at the last minute when her husband had
the chance to go with her.”
“And she didn’t leave a note for you to let me know?”
Blythe sighed. What did it matter? Why the hell couldn’t he
take his testosterone laden body out of here? She fanned through the papers.
Sure enough, there it was, buried deep in the mulch, written on a paper napkin.
Cancel Tony this week. Me and Gavin.
Shit.
Blythe tossed the napkin in front of him. “You’re cancelled
for this week.”
He gave it a cursory look, then wadded it up in his big hand
and tossed it to the wastebasket behind her desk. His aim was flawless. “Too
bad you didn’t tell me sooner. I’m still going to have to charge for today.”
Stephanie was going to have a cow. She wasn’t a tight wad,
but she hated to waste money. Blythe bit her tongue on more than one occasion.
What was more wasteful than a daily massage? But then, it was the one relaxing
thing Stephanie did. Blythe couldn’t fault her for that.
Still, she was going to pitch a fit. She’d rant over it,
blame herself for not being more diligent, and tell Blythe over and over how it
was her fault, not Blythe’s. She didn’t have the patience to listen to
Stephanie berate herself.
“There’s no need.” She pulled open her desk drawer and
hauled out her purse. “I’ll pay your fee.”
“And Gavin’s, too?”
She clicked her gaze to Tony’s. The son-of-a-bitch was
smirking at her. She hated that come-fuck-me look in his liquid brown eyes. It
never failed to stir her lust for the man. Who was she kidding? Everything
about Tony Driscoll made her want him.
“That’s two hundred dollars, you know.”
“I’m well aware of it.” It was worth every penny for the
peace and quiet it would give her raging hormones. Even now her nipples rasped
against her bra, pleading for his attention. It was becoming increasingly
difficult to breathe.
She scribbled out the check and thrust it his way. “There
you are. Have a nice day.”
“Not so fast there, Sunshine.” He snagged her arm and pulled
her to her feet. “Tony Driscoll doesn’t take charity. You paid for a service
and you’re going to get it.”
Blythe yanked free. No, no, no! her mind screamed.
The last thing she needed was those long, thick fingers dancing over her naked
flesh. And yet her body betrayed her. Heat pooled to her crotch. Dampness
soaked her panties, making them stick to her…
“If…if you think I’m going to allow you to lay hands on me—”
“Grow up. I’m a professional.”
“A professional what? That’s what I’d like to know.”
“You can’t hurt my feelings by trying to insult me,
Sunshine. But I’m shocked you’d think Stephanie would do anything not above
board.”
He pointed to the private office and grabbed his portable
table in one hand, a black leather duffel bag in the other. “Come on. Time’s
wasting. She keeps a robe on the back of the bathroom door. Strip down and be
quick about it.”
“I know the procedure, Tony.”
“Then hop to it. Come on, I want to make sure you get your
money’s worth. God knows, if anyone needs a relaxing rubdown, it’s you.”
She whirled around and smacked into his hard body. Hands
braced on his unyielding chest, she forced herself to push away. “What’s that
supposed to mean?”
He steered her toward the door. “It means I’ve never seen
anyone wound up tighter than you. Come on. Indulge me. You’ve paid for two
sessions. Take them. It’s one hour out of your busy day. Your lunch hour. And
you never eat lunch.”
He had her there. Most days she worked through lunch just to
keep up with Stephanie. Her only concession was lunch once a month with her
best friend. Blythe didn’t know whether to be flattered he'd noticed, or irked
he felt it his business to do so. But it seemed he was determined to argue with
her about it until he got his way. Blythe didn’t have the energy to battle. The
sooner she got him out of here, the sooner she could get back to work.
“All right. Be quick about it.”
“That’s a first. Never had someone say that to me. Can’t you
relax and just enjoy it? So far, I’ve never had any complaints.”
“There’s always a first time.”
Blythe hurried on before he could see the flush in her
cheeks. She hated the veiled reference to sex, yet her traitorous body
tightened at the very notion of spending time getting hot and sweaty with this
man.
She found Stephanie’s white satin robe on a hook behind the
door. A small closet beside it held empty hangers. Blythe stripped down to skin
and hung up each piece of clothing with shaking hands. Her heart raced with
anticipation. As she slipped her arms into the heavenly soft garment, the
fabric brushed against her nipples, agonizing their plight.
She pulled in a breath and stared down. “I didn’t take you
out to play.” But her body literally ached for attention. She was ripe for a
good lay. Trouble was she couldn’t find one to save her life.
Closing her eyes, she massaged her palms over her nipples. God,
it feels good. Lower, her clit throbbed for equal attention. She brushed
her fingers down her belly. A knock at the door froze her.
“I don’t have all day, Sunshine.”
Jerk.
Blythe smiled. Maybe he was good for something after all.
Maybe a boy toy wasn’t such a bad idea. A little diversion to ease the tension.
Someone like Tony would do well. He’d be gone before she could blink twice. Men
like him never stayed around to tangle up a woman’s life.
But she sure as hell wasn’t going to go in there begging.
Let him make the moves. She never knew a man yet who turned down sex. They
never needed a reason to get laid, just a place.
“I’m coming. Keep your shirt on.” She hoped to be coming
soon anyway, and she didn’t give a damn whether the shirt was on or off. It was
his pants that needed to go.
Blythe whipped open the door. Tony had pulled the gold heavy
linen drapes shut in her absence and flicked on the overhead fluorescents. They
hummed in unison with the hot blood zinging through her veins. His padded table
sat dead center, a white sheet draped over it. Tony wore a powder blue smock
that covered him to mid-thigh. Another obstacle.
Oh, well. Nothing ventured…
With any luck, she’d have him crawling all over her in less
than five minutes.
“Good. You’re ready.”
She yanked open the robe and let it fall to a white puddle
around her feet.
Tony’s eyes widened. It was the only hint he gave of
noticing and he masked that reaction quickly.
God, please don’t let him be gay.
He patted the table. “Glad to see you’re not shy. Crawl up.
Face down.”
Blythe brushed her backside against him as she passed
between him and the table. His penis was hard…and big. Just the way she liked
them. She hid her smile in the cove of her arms.
So…he wasn’t as disinterested as he pretended. It was
just a matter of time.
The delicate scent of sesame oil drifted to her. She heard
him scuff his palms together. But nothing prepared her for the feel of his hot
hands touching her back. She sucked in a breath through her teeth.
“Too cold?” he asked.
“No…just fine. Go on.”
“Don’t worry about being a mess. It’ll all soak in.”
She gave him a noncommittal, “Hmmm,” then closed her eyes.
He spread the oil evenly in long, sweeping motions then
swooped up to her shoulders. Muscles caved beneath his kneading fingers. Her
body quivered for more.
A trace down her spine loosened her vertebrae. Down to the
small of her back. His thumbs melted the tension away. Up in circular
formation. Down her sides, tickling her ribs.
Blythe twitched against the feeling.
“Sorry. Didn’t know you were ticklish. I’ll be more
careful.”
Up to the shoulders and down again to her buttocks. Heat
spread to her clit, swelling it all the more as he worked oil into her
backside. Up again to the spine and down to the crevice between her cheeks, to
the tip of her tailbone, then around the bottom curve of her butt.
Yes, this is working well.
She parted her legs ever so slightly.
More oil. That sound of rubbing hands. He cupped her thighs
with each hand, thumbs inside. Inch by inch he wandered downward until he
reached her feet. There he picked up one and massaged each digit, then did the
same to the other. Working both hands on one leg, he made his way north.
He paused at her crotch, then circled her butt and worked
down the other leg. Blythe opened her legs a little wider. Again, he paused
before cupping her butt, and she swore he gave her a little flick before moving
on.
She bit back a cry and forced her breathing to stay normal.
Tony draped his hands on her shoulders, down her sides,
brushing the edges of her breasts. She swallowed hard. Lower once more. To her
thighs, inside and out, inside and out, just barely brushing what she
desperately needed touched.
Why didn’t he make a move? Why didn’t he…
He traced a finger to the end of her spine. Paused. Turned
his hand and cupped her thigh.
Shock waves shot through Blythe. “Good God, would you just…”
He pulled back. “Just what?”
“Never mind. The massage is over. Pack up and go.”
She swung down from the table and hurried to the bathroom.
Jerk. He knew damn well what he was doing. Damn well. That still did little to
help her.
Safe behind closed doors, Blythe sank to the black-and-white
tile. The cold did nothing to shock her system to normal. She needed an orgasm
and she needed it now!
She dove her hand between her legs. Hot, moist, and damn
ready to come. She flicked her fingers over her clit, back and forth, back and
forth. God, how she’d love to be having him do this. His long, big fingers on
her, in her. Deep inside, fucking her hard.
“Ooh!”
Yes. Almost…fuck me.
Then he’d whip out that big, hard dick, spread her legs wide
and…
“Ooooooh!”
Blythe rocked to a blinding orgasm, then collapsed against
the door while she tried to catch her breath. It wasn’t a man, but it was the
next best thing.
“You all right in there?”
She jerked upright at the sound of his voice on the other
side. He’d heard her! The son-of-a-bitch had heard her come! She wanted to
crawl in a hole and die. Why the hell was he still here?
“Go away.”
“I can’t. I have to wash up.”
Jerk.
“I’ll be right out.” She washed her hands and dressed
quickly. Maybe he hadn’t heard.
Oh, he’d heard all right. Believing she was alone, Blythe
had really let loose. One smirk and she swore she’d punch him but good.
Squaring her shoulders, she opened the door. Tony sat on the
edge of the table far away from the scene of her…pleasure. Maybe things weren’t
as bad as they seemed. Still, she’d bet a dollar her face was beet red.
“Thank you. That was very nice. I look forward to seeing you
tomorrow for Gavin’s appointment.”
“I do Gavin at night after work. I’ll be at your place at
six.”
“Six it is. I’ll give you the address when you leave.”
Blythe smiled. Maybe she’d get that fucking after all.
* *
*
Tony stared at the door long after the honey-haired blonde
zipped through it. The little shit had used him to get off. How selfish was
that?
From about two minutes after he’d met her six months before,
Tony was aware of several things about her. First, foremost, and clear to
anyone with half a brain, Blythe Smithers was a striking woman. She might not
be model-perfect—thank God—but there was a special something about the whole
package that drew attention her way. When she walked into a room, everyone knew
it. This gift was made all the more appealing when he realized Blythe had no
idea of the effect, of the power she possessed. She was a dedicated
professional, courteous to those whose paths she crossed, efficient in the
maelstrom called Cambridge Designs, and completely oblivious to anything not
work related…almost. She wasn’t oblivious to him.
Tony had seen the hunger in her eyes from the instant they
met. At times he swore he could smell the desire seeping from her pores. And
yet she never once acted on her need. It made Tony want her all the more.
But he was supposed to be here to do a job. Hard as it was,
hard as he was, Tony fought his craving to pursue her. He didn’t have
time for sexual pursuits. He was here to find purloined diamonds and the people
who smuggled them into the United States. Now…this.
He sat on the edge of his massage table, hard as a rock and
throbbing. All because of her.
He knew what she wanted from him the second she stepped out
of that bathroom and dropped the robe. It didn’t help matters that his interest
level had risen as it always did when he came near her. If she’d given any
indication that this was going to be a two-way street, he might just have
accommodated her.
But Blythe still held back. God only knew for what reason,
but he hoped it wasn’t so she could play the innocent victim later on. He’d be
damned. When he finally had her—and it looked like his body wasn’t going to
rest now until he did—he wanted there to be no doubt she was an active
participant.
So, he played with her, using his hands to tempt her to
speak up. She was determined, he’d give her that much. Even the little brushes
inside and up her thighs didn’t make her crack. She came close. And for a few
heart-pounding seconds he thought he almost had her.
Good God, would you just…
He should have taken her right then and there. Pride
demanded more. He got nothing. Now he was stuck with a hard-on that wouldn’t go
away…unless he took care of it himself. The image of her perfectly rounded
backside was going to haunt him for a long time.
Tony hopped down and made his way to the bathroom. It seemed
he was doing way more than his share of jerking off lately because of her. Now
he was doing it in someone else’s bathroom. Something had to give soon.
He draped his smock over the towel bar, then eased the
zipper of his jeans down. The motion alone aggravated his situation. He shoved
denim and cotton boxers down. His cock fell free, hard, heavy, and damned
demanding.
His hand, still slick with oil, made the perfect outlet.
Eyes closed, Tony stroked the length, imagining himself wrapped in her heat.
She’d be slick and ready. Tight, too. Yes, real tight. So tight it’d suck the
cum right out of a man. Leave him drained and wanting more.
Images of her body writhing beneath him filled his head as
his hand blurred. His balls tightened. The image of her hand cupping him there
sent a shudder through him.
Grinding his teeth against the orgasm, Tony braced one arm
against the wall and shot his wad into the smock. He leaned his forehead into
the ceramic tile while he caught his breath. No doubt about it—he had to have
her. She was too much a distraction now that he knew she was ripe for picking.
The sooner he could get her in the sack, the sooner he could get back to
concentrating on his investigation. He had one week to work magic. One week
before the Cambridges got back from wherever they’d taken off to.
Tony adjusted his clothing, folded up the smock, and eased
open the bathroom door. He was still alone. Blythe was probably too embarrassed
to pay him much mind for now.
He chuckled at how pink her cheeks had gotten when she knew
she’d been found out. At least he’d had the sense not to tease her about it.
That was no way to win a lady’s treasures. For once, he’d kept his mouth shut.
But the incident did give him valuable time alone in
Stephanie Cambridge’s office. He had a few minutes to snoop.
He scanned the room as he packed up his table. Still no
computer. Looked like Stephanie had taken her day planner with her. The
answering machine was in Blythe’s area, as were the file cabinets and computer
she used. There were several generic desert landscapes on the walls, but he’d
already checked those. No wall safe behind them, no packets taped to them.
Bolts of material, stacks of catalogs, a jumble of
supplies…it would take days to sort through them. He had one week to take care
of that, too. How in the hell was he supposed to get past Blythe to do so?
He’d written her off as being part of this little smuggling
racket long ago. Investigation revealed she was clean. Honors graduate with
masters in design from UCLA. Volunteer at the animal shelter. Blood donor. She
didn’t live beyond her means, but well within it. Hell, she didn’t even speed.
The perfect little angel. Almost. He grinned. “It’s
always the quiet ones.”
Tony supposed it was the lure of working with Stephanie
Cambridge that had pulled Blythe into their circle. As far as interior
designers went, Stephanie was supposed to be the best. Why would
picture-perfect Blythe settle for anything less?
Hell, if she thought for an instant that the Cambridges were
involved in blood diamonds, she’d probably mount her own crusade to have them
locked up. And there was more than a time or two Tony had thought about
enlisting her help. He’d shrugged it off as being too risky. All he really knew
about her was on paper. He’d seen too many resumes make scum look like royalty.
Although he hated to lump Blythe into that category, he simply couldn’t afford
to make mistakes. Maybe once he got to know her better…
Ah, pillow talk. The treasure trove of all spies,
investigators, and federal agents. He’d never felt right about resorting to
such tactics. There were too many emotions involved in sex. The lines blurred
quickly. This time was no different, except for those rapidly merging lines of
business and personal. There was only one thing he wanted from Blythe Smithers
and that wasn’t information. Tony couldn’t fight the attraction any longer.
Pulling in a deep breath, he grabbed his gear, tucking his
duffel bag under one arm. It allowed easy access to the nine millimeter hidden
in a pouch at the bottom. One yank and it’d be in his hands. He’d yet to need
it.
The bag also housed a hidden video camera. Every session
with the Cambridges was recorded for evaluation. So far they hadn’t slipped up.
Oh, there was plenty to see, but none of it had anything to do with the case.
Tony found Blythe in the far corner of the vast room,
watching the coffee pot fill. Her back was to him. It’d be easy to sneak out.
But if he ever hoped to get anywhere with her, he had to ease her embarrassment
over what had just happened.
“Coffee smells good,” he said as he set his things to one
side.
Blythe glanced over her shoulder. “Black?”
“With creamer.”
She scooped a spoonful into a second coffee cup, then filled
both when the pot sputtered its last. She did little more than hand it to him
as she returned to her desk. So much for chit-chat.
Tony sank into the only vacant chair left in the room.
“So…where was Stephanie off to this time?”
“New York,” she said without looking up. “Big tradeshow.”
“Don’t they have those in Los Angeles, too? I’m surprised
she would up and leave like that.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “You know Stephanie. Free as the
wind.” She waved her fingers through the air.
“And just about as flighty sometimes.”
A smile teased her lips. “Just about. But she gets the job
done and then some.”
It was the then some Tony worried about. “It’s good
Gavin could get away, too. They need a break from the routine.”
“I can’t say going for a business convention is much of a
break, but I suppose it’s better than nothing.”
The telephone interrupted further conversation. Tony watched
her work while he nursed his coffee. Professional, polite, thorough. There was
a lot to admire about Blythe Smithers, besides her killer body.
Every so often she’d tuck a wayward strand of her honey
blonde hair behind her ear. Shoulder-length, it still managed to curve around
her neck, inviting a guy to pull it aside for a little nibble.
The thought perked him up. He had to get out of here while
he could comfortably do so.
Tony waited until she ended the call, then tossed down the
remains of his coffee. “Well, gotta go. You were going to give me your
address?”
Blythe clicked her gaze his way, then just as quickly looked
back to her stack of notes. “I remembered it’s on the check I gave you. You
should have no trouble finding it.”
“Great. Six good for you?”
This time she pulled her head up and fixed him with a stare.
“Apparently, I have little choice.”
Tony braced his forearms on the desk. “You always have a
choice, Sunshine. All you have to do is speak up.”
A pink flush covered her cheeks. “Six is fine. Don’t be
late.”
“Six.” He gave her a wink, snagged his gear, and left before
she could change her mind.
In the privacy of the agency’s Dodge Durango, Tony called
his office. Two rings went by before Trent Lockwood picked up. Tony didn’t
waste time on preliminaries.
“Our suspects took off to New York last night at the last
minute. Said it was a tradeshow for designers.”
“I’ll check and get back to you. You gonna be available?”
Tony stared at the four-story office building, to the window
on the first floor he knew was hers. Somehow, some way he had to get her to
come to him. He’d waited a long time for Blythe to acknowledge the lust he saw
burning in her eyes each time he stopped by. Now he wanted to hear her admit
it.
“I’ll be out of touch for most of the evening. I’ll call you.”
