BULLETPROOF BRIDE (13 page)

"Miss Beaumont?"

"Yes?" She turned and saw Darcy frowning at her.

"The kiosk ATM is on the fritz again. The security panel is red-lighted."

Tessa stared out at the rain, pelting muddy puddles on the sidewalk. "Of course it is. I'll go check it, thank you." Heaving a weary sigh, she trudged into her office to fetch her raincoat.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Gabe's low question spun her around, one arm tangled in the sleeve of her coat. "The drive-through ATM is jammed again."

His brows slammed together. "You don't go anywhere without me."

"It's been so hectic, I honestly forgot."

He helped her into her raincoat, the brief brush of his fingers on her neck making her pulse jump.

"That it has. Okay, show me how to un-jam the ATM."

"How about blowing it sky-high?" she muttered.

"I'm pretty good with explosives. I could—"

"Don't you dare!" she snapped. "I was only kidding."

"I know, boss." His teasing grin brightened the gloomy day. "So was I."

Her shoulders slumped, heavy with fatigue. "Sorry. I'm beat."

"No problem. Let's double-team the beast, shall we?"

After twenty minutes kneeling on the soaked pavement prying a jammed twenty out of the slot—and one hard kick—the ATM was running again.

Followed by Gabe, Tessa trailed back inside. Water streamed off her coat and plopped onto the carpet. "Everyone else is finished. You'd better dry off and balance your cash drawer. I'll let the others out."

Tessa ushered out the employees and relocked the door, then hurried to the rest room. She hung her raincoat on the back of the door and quickly stripped off the damp suit jacket, soggy pumps and thigh-high stockings. She filled the sink with sudsy water. The heavenly warmth soothed her chilled skin as she washed her feet and legs before drying them with paper towels. Releasing the gold clip at her nape, she blotted her hair. The wild mass spilled in damp curls past her shoulders. After rinsing out her stockings, she hung them and the jacket near the heater vent and arranged her pumps to one side. Maybe they'd dry by the time she finished the paperwork.

The textured gold carpet grazed the soles of her feet as she tiptoed down the hall and scooted into her office. She settled into her chair and tucked her bare toes safely under the desk. A weary sigh trickled out as she grabbed a form off the mountain in the inbox. A repair report from the ATM
company
.

"Hey, boss, I'm done. How about you?" Gabe leaned on the door frame, untouched by their miserable chore. His tacky polyester suit had shed water as efficiently as armor, and only a hint of dampness glistened in his short, dark hair.

"Not even close. Go find a chair in the lobby and relax."

He glanced at his watch. "It's after eighteen hundred. I know for a fact you skipped both breaks and your lunch today."

"So did you, even though I told you to go."

"What's good for the boss is good enough for me." He strolled into the room. Propping one hip on the corner of her desk as if he belonged there, he plunked his nerd glasses in her inbox,
then
removed his fake buckteeth. Thank goodness he didn't put
those
in her inbox, but stowed them in his baby-blue jacket.

His gaze swept over her, and his eyes darkened. "You should always wear your hair loose." A slow, sensual smile curved his lips. He reached out and snagged a stray curl, winding the lock of hair around his finger. "Very quick thinking on that fire alarm this morning. I think I'll keep you on the team."

She frowned at him until he dropped his hand. "I plan to resign from the team as soon as possible. I hope you got everything you needed. My blood pressure can't handle another spy mission upstairs."

"
Aww
, come on. Didn't you have a little fun?" He grinned. "There's nothing like a good old-fashioned adrenaline rush for a great high. And that was merely an itty-bitty tingle."

Tessa slumped, resting her forehead in her hands. "Go amuse yourself for a couple of hours, Mr. Adventure. I have
work
to finish." Her hands slid around to rub the back of her aching neck. "I know," she jerked open her desk drawer, and handed him
Trask's
vault log file. "Return this upstairs."

He dropped the folder on her desk. "And leave you all alone?
Nuh
-uh. Besides, you know what they say." He moved to her side, sinking down on the carpet cross-legged. "All work and no play
makes
Tessie cranky." He pushed her chair back and grasped one bare ankle in his strong hand.

She gasped at the contact. "What are you doing?"

"You think you can sneak in here with
nekkid
feet unnoticed?" Heat crept up her neck, and he barked out a laugh. He lifted her foot into his lap and massaged her sore, tired muscles. "You're exhausted, and so tense, you could open a can of cola with your buns."

"Charmingly eloquent as always." She tried to yank her foot from his grip, but he held firm. "Stop that!"

His nimble fingers gently kneaded an extra-sensitive spot. Her tight muscles softened like a Hershey bar in July. Warm, soothing contentment spread through her foot to her leg, and flowed up her spine. She moaned and went limp.

"Hmm. Are you sure you want me to stop?" His thumbs rubbed her instep in tiny circles, exerting exquisite pressure.

Her eyes drifted closed, and she melted into the chair. "I don't like you, Mr. Bond," she murmured.

"I know, sweetheart." He chuckled. "Don't blame you. I'm despicable."

Adrift in a warm glow of pleasure, she slowly nodded. "And an oversexed gorilla."

"Duly noted."

As he continued his soothing strokes, her tension evaporated, and she floated away in a peaceful daze.

"Ms. Beaumont!"
Trask's
booming voice echoed from the lobby.

She jerked upright. Her panicked gaze shot to Gabe. "My boss!" she whispered. "If he sees you, me, like this—"

Gabe touched a finger to his lips. "My lips are sealed." He tossed her a mischievous grin before scooting under her desk. He pulled her chair into place as
Trask
entered the office.

She took a deep breath and pasted on a smile. "Good evening. This is a surprise."

Her boss dropped into the seat opposite her and slapped a stack of papers onto the desktop. "With my vacation coming up, I want the employee reviews done early."

She glanced down at the papers, and a cold chill skittered over her skin. Like a neon arrow of guilt, the vault log file she'd stolen from his office loomed on the desktop in plain view. Holding her breath, she nudged the folder to one side with her elbow and slipped the ATM report on top.

He picked up the first page in his stack. "The kiosk ATM?"

Under the desk, the tip of one callused finger tickled the sole of her right foot. Her toes curled. "Still causing headaches on a regular basis."

"The down time on the last repair?"

She looked at the repair invoice covering the incriminating file, praying he wouldn't ask to see it. "Two hours."

Warm fingers stroked her foot before sliding up her calf. A quiver rippled through her body. She bit her lower lip.

Trask
made a notation in the folder. "Obviously, the service rep isn't tweaking the correct part."

"No. He doesn't seem to get the point no matter how many times I've shown him the exact problem spot."

Gabe's palm glided up her calf and over her knee toward the tender inside of her thigh. Her stomach lurched.

Trask
frowned at her from across the desk. "And the cash supply from the main vault? Are you getting what you need?"

Fighting the insane desire to urge Gabe's hand upward, she instead clamped her shaking knees together, trapping his fingers between them. "Um, yes. I'm g-getting plenty." She snatched up a pen and frantically began to jot illegible notes.

"About the new teller…"

Gabe tugged his hand from between her knees. Spine stiff, she waited for his next trick, torn between hoping he'd stop and wishing he wouldn't.

Her boss consulted the second memo. "Mr. Bond? How is he performing?"

No movement came from under the desk. Gabe's little game must be over. She leaned back slightly in the chair. "He's—"

Suddenly, hot, moist breath, followed by soft lips, tingled over her left kneecap. Her pulse fluttered into a stampede.

"I'm going to strangle him," she muttered between clenched teeth.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said
,
he's got a handle on things."

"His transaction rate is twice that of our fastest teller."

Warm lips nibbled her calf. She gripped the pen until her knuckles turned white. "Oh, he's definitely fast."

"Would you like to add more responsibilities to Mr. Bond's training?"

She wanted to throw Mr. Bond down on the floor and ravish him. She must be losing her mind. Tessa swallowed a moan. She sucked in a deep, shuddery breath before daring to continue. "He seems to be taking the initiative himself. I just hope he doesn't get in over his head."

"Are you feeling all right? You're rather flushed."

"Now that you mention it, I do seem to have picked up an unpleasant parasite I can't shake loose," she hissed, launching a discreet, but hard kick. Her foot connected with what felt like ribs. A soft grunt echoed from under the desk, and she coughed loudly to cover the sound. "But however annoying, it will not prevent me from doing my job. Please continue."

"Yes, quite. Perhaps you should see a doctor about that. Now, about the search for a new vault teller. Have you found anyone who meets our needs?"

Those soft lips roved down the sensitive skin of her ankle and along the top of her foot. Liquid heat streamed through her veins, pooling low and heavy in her abdomen. She gripped her pen with both hands. "My needs are not being met at all," she groaned.

"Ms. Beaumont, are you sure you're up to this? Perhaps we'd better continue at another time."

Gabe pressed his lips to the sole of her foot and the warm flick of his tongue sent hot and cold ripples up her spine. Her nipples contracted into hard, painful peaks. Her hands clenched, snapping the pen in half. Ink sprayed out, spattering her blouse, the desktop, and Mr.
Trask's
beige suit with dripping blue blotches.

Swiping at the front of his suit,
Trask
leapt up like he'd been jolted with a cattle prod. "Obviously, you are not well at all. I'd better take care of this before the stain sets. I'll speak to you tomorrow." He stormed out.

Too weak to care, she flopped back, her chair rolling away from the desk.

Gabe emerged, his expression stunned. "Tessa, I, ah, hell." He thrust his fingers through his hair.

Dazed, she stared at him. Anger snapped her upright. "How dare you? You promised you wouldn't touch me again."

"I know." He swallowed,
then
finally, he spoke. "I'm sorry."

Furious with him, but more furious with herself, she gripped the armrests until her hands ached. Even now, she craved more. How humiliating. What did that say about her? She was behaving like someone totally unacquainted with morals.

Like Vivienne.

The realization made her want to throw up. "You, Mr. Colton, are the most loathsome, contemptible,
irresponsible
—"

He managed a weak, shaky laugh. "I won't argue with you there, sweetheart."

She clamped her lips shut before disgracing herself any further by bursting into tears.

Because she wasn't listing his faults.

She was describing her own.

Late into the night, Gabe lay awake staring into the darkness. He clenched his jaw, trying to ignore the desire that still pulsed, thick and heavy in his blood. What had started as an impulsive prank had turned into a double-edged blade and speared him in the guts. He'd only meant to tease Tessa a little. But when the pulse in her ankle had galloped under his hands and her silky skin had trembled at his touch, he'd lost his head. Gone too far.

No doubt about it, the lady had been turned on. And so had he. He'd gloried in her response. Far more than he wanted to acknowledge. He'd committed a serious tactical error and let the situation escalate out of his control. Damn it, he'd never lost control with a woman before. His relationships with women had always been fun and playful, nothing more than a good-time romp.

However, he didn't feel at all casual about Tessa.

There was a light inside her, sweet warmth that beckoned to him from the darkness. The burning need to make love to her grew stronger every day. His need, his vulnerability filled him with fear. Because it wasn't just physical. The two of them shared an emotional pull both continued to deny. A smart man would make a hasty retreat before he got his wings singed.

He rolled over and viciously punched his pillow. From now on, his policy was strictly hands-off. Before he did something really stupid.