The Cinderella Mission (7 page)

She wasn’t a couch potato by any stretch, having already compiled a personal exercise regimen in preparation for the time she would be called up to serve in the field. She’d thrived on surprising Ethan with her endurance, something he obviously hadn’t expected to encounter.

Of course, then he upped the pace again. But she would prove she had something more to offer to this operation than her knowledge of languages.

One foot in front of the other, she distracted herself by drilling Ethan on basic European greetings. Even though her lungs threatened to burst from his killer pace, she had to admit the open spaces offered less temptation than the privacy of his loft apartment or the gym. He also seemed to comprehend the nuances of the language better conversationally than when she presented him a written list.

Kelly adjusted the wooly band over her cold ears. “Forms of good evening or hello. Spanish?”

“Buenas tardes.”
He exhaled steady puffs of white. “Christ, Kelly! This is rudimentary crap.”

And repetitious
crap
gave her something to think about
beside the burn in her legs and an attraction that wouldn’t quit. “Italian.”

“Ciao.”

“German.”

“Guten Tag.”

Didn’t the man ever tire? She inhaled another icy gasp. “And my favorite of all languages—the language of love— French.”

He stumbled.
“Au revoir?”

“Bonsoir,” she corrected. “Rudimentary, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” The white clouds of air exploded faster as he pounded around a corner. “I’ll bet you dream in multiple languages.”

“On occasion.”

Ethan’s steps slowed. Kelly wanted to shout her relief, but didn’t have the energy. He’d probably quit early for her and she didn’t care.

She slowed her steps to a cool-down pace. “Different languages seem conducive for different activities.”

He kicked aside a chunk of sludge, trailing behind. “How so?”

“German has a strong, guttural sound. It’s good for focus and punch in a run. Run.
Lauf. Laufend.
Jog.
Trotten.
” A gust of wind dipped the temperature. “Cold.
Frostig.
”

Her feet slowed to a halt. Kelly bent over to grab her knees and suck in icy air. She huffed through at least ten chilly breaths waiting for him to answer before calling, “Ethan?”

Where had he gone?

“Ethan?” She looked behind her.

And found him doing the last thing she would have expected. The one thing guaranteed to throw a whole new, confusing, frightening…dangerous complexion on their working relationship. She found Ethan Williams…

…checking out her rear view.

Ethan tried to drag his eyes from Kelly’s backside. Wind pants had never looked so good.

He told himself fifty times over he had no business staring at a fellow operative that way, regardless of how perfectly curved, soft, inviting…

Damn it, time to move to a safer language. Ethan stepped level with her again. “How about cooking?”

Kelly searched his face for two gusting bursts of wind before straightening. “Italian, of course.”

“What about Spanish?”

“Is for dancing.” She started walking again toward the entrance to the mansion’s gym.

He didn’t want to think about what she did in her favorite language. Even the idea made him burn to dive into a half-melted snowbank. The mere mention of her “love language” had sent him bungling basic foreign greetings.

Ethan walked faster, past her, turning to face her as he jogged backward. “So which was your favorite country to tour?”

“I haven’t been overseas.” Some of his disbelief must have shown because she rushed ahead. “There never seemed to be the right time. I almost made it to Portugal for a couple of weeks in one of those high-school travel packages.”

No wonder she’d hung on to an Eiffel Tower paperweight souvenir. A pang of regret stabbed through him that he’d never known she hadn’t seen the real thing. He’d probably spent their time together talking about his latest mission instead of finding out more about a woman who intrigued the hell out of him. Had he been blinded by her quiet air, her baggy clothes to a certain extent, too?

He wouldn’t make the same mistake now. “What happened to keep you from going to Portugal?”

“My folks wouldn’t sign the permission form. They were a little overprotective.”

A surge of gratitude for what he owed his aunt charged through him. She’d had every reason to coddle him after the way his parents had died, but she never had. They both
enjoyed traveling—although his reasons differed from his aunt’s. “And later?”

“College was a crush to finish early so my folks could retire. I didn’t have the time or money to schedule a trip abroad. But I’m on my own now. Someday soon, I’m going to use all my vacation days at once and do every one of those things in all those languages in each of those countries.”

He wanted to call his travel agent and start booking the tickets. Damn it, he wanted to go with her and see all those places through her eyes.

Ethan cruised to a stop outside the gym door. “Make sure you send me postcards.”

“Who knows, maybe now that I actually have a shot at upgrading to full operative status, the government can foot the bill for my travel. That was my original plan.”

“Join the agency. See the world.” He yanked open the gym door. “There had to have been an easier way.”

She paused in the open doorway. “But I don’t want easy. I never have. I want a challenge while I’m making my difference. You of all people should understand that.”

Ethan recognized the resolve in her set jaw well since it mirrored his own determination. She was going to do this. Come hell or high water, Kelly Taylor would be a full operative.

What language would she curse in the first time she had to kill someone?

His gut twisted until his breathing constricted. That was a language he hoped she’d never have to learn.

With any luck, no one would ever suspect this woman was an operative. That innocence could prove to be her ultimate cover to keep her safe.

Until assignments took their toll and jaded her as they did other agents.

Then she would need every bit of expertise to stay ahead of the next bullet. Time in the field was often short for
agents. Eventually they either died or blew their cover. He’d already pushed it too close with his last assignment.

How long would Kelly last?

Ethan looked at her sweet face and mourned the day she would lose her innocence. “You’re so damned young.”

She slumped back against the door. “Then why do I feel so very old?”

He braced a hand over her head. He resisted the impulse to drop it just an inch lower and toy with her hair. Strands fell loose from the ponytail, swaying against her cheek.

Framing her eyes.

Vulnerable eyes.

Worse yet, disillusioned eyes.

Ethan frowned. Had that always been there? He looked deeper and realized that while she might be inexperienced, she wasn’t completely innocent. Someone had hurt her. And that stirred a surge of anger so strong it scared him.

Why had he never noticed before?

Because he’d been too much of a selfish jerk to look. In all those lunches, he’d never once asked her about herself. He’d just gone with the assumption someone as shy as Kelly would rather not be pushed.

A convenient excuse to keep things superficial.

Even now, all this soul-searching made him itchy. Ethan shoved away from the wall and ushered her inside the gym. He shrugged out of his jacket and pitched it over a StairMaster before charging over to the weight machines. “Are you up for a few more reps before we quit for the day?”

She draped her jacket over his, flinging her wooly white mittens on top. “Bring it on, Williams.”

Ethan started for the ThighMaster, then decided his libido couldn’t take the reality of Kelly in any kind of suggestive position. He opted for the leg press instead.

Kneeling, he set the weights at one hundred and ten pounds, twenty pounds lower than earlier, but she’d withstood a hell of a workout like a real trooper.

What other surprises did Kelly Taylor have tucked under all her clothes and hair? “Tell me about where you’re from.”

“Not much to tell.” She slid onto the padded seat. Feet flat on the press, she pumped, exhaling on the exertion as he’d taught her. “You probably already know most of it. I’m an only child, born late in my parents’ lives, so they had lots of time to spend with me. The whole perfect childhood thing.”

“What about college?” Ethan snagged two sixty-pound weights off the rack and began alternating bicep curls. “Did you go all wild and crazy when you broke away from home?”

He’d raised more than his share of hell at the University of Chicago with his three best buds. The Blues Brothers, they’d been labeled by women for their taste in music and track record with relationships. Christ, that had been so long ago, back when he let more than a handful of people into his life.

Back when he knew better than to think the miniscule amount of friendship he’d offered Kelly counted. “Well, Kel? Did you cut loose like most freshmen?”

She continued the steady reps, but a smile flickered across her face.

Ethan’s arms slowed in time with his seeping realization. “You did! You had your great rebellion.” Still she didn’t answer. He dropped his weights back onto the rack with a clang. “Spill it, woman, or I’m increasing those weights.”

“I got a tattoo.”

Thank God he’d put the weights away or he’d have dropped them on his feet. “No way.”

Nodding, she swooshed the weights higher, faster.

“Where?”

She smiled.

Ah, hell.

He searched for a safer subject. “What did you get? A kitten, maybe?”

“Nope.”

“A rose?” Yeah, a pretty pink bud, rosy tipped… Sweet heaven.

She shook her head.

He lamented the loss of the rose. Probably for the best. “What did you pick?”

Her sultry grin made her look as old as Eve. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

More than he wanted air. “I guess that means you’re not going to tell me. You’re a wicked woman, Kelly Taylor.”

“Not hardly.” She jammed the weights up with vicious force.

Ethan focused on the rise and fall of the weights and pulleys to keep his attention off checking out her body to catalogue possible locations for that not-a-rose tattoo. Even thinking about it set his world off-kilter. Tipped the whole damned room until even the machines…

Tilted?

“Kelly!” Adrenaline flamed through him as he flung his body between her and the weights tumbling toward them.

A
ir rushed from Kelly’s lungs. From the force of her fall or the bulk of Ethan’s weight, she didn’t know or even care since she couldn’t breathe yet.

Her ears echoed with the clang of metal.

Clang of metal?

Her head anchored sideways, she slowly opened her eyes. Weight disks lay scattered over the floor.

Fear slammed into her, heavier than the hundred and ninety pounds of muscular man on top of her. Those blocks of metal would have rolled over her if Ethan hadn’t acted so quickly.

A new fear cranked within her. She grabbed his shoulders. “Are you all right? Did any hit you?”

“I’m fine.” One hand cupping her head, he skimmed his other hand down her arm. “And you?”

“I’m okay.”

“The maintenance crew responsible for the weight room can be damned grateful, because I’m already going to have their—”

“Ethan!” She silenced him with her hand over his mouth. “I’m fine.”

Totally fine. Feeling far too good at the moment with his hot hands searing an even hotter brand onto her skin. His leg pressed between her legs so firmly she couldn’t tell if the throbbing pulse came from him or her.

Her hand slid from his mouth, but the heat of his lips lingered until her body flamed like in the overheated hot tub. He moved his leg. Not much, just a firmer pressure, closer. Her breath hitched. His pupils dilated with unmistakable arousal, an arousal echoed by the increasing need pressed into her belly.

He wanted her.

Ethan Williams wanted
her.

Not Kelly with her Eugenie-chosen clothes she would wear for the dinner party tomorrow, but Kelly in bulky work-out pants, hair a mess and any hint of makeup sweated off hours ago.

“Kelly.”

“What?”

His eyes heated over her with a blue flame. “Just Kelly.”

Uh-oh.
Somebody must have given her a straight shot of IV ylang ylang because sweet longing pulsed through her veins. The near miss with the weights had her heart pounding against his. “What are we doing?”

Damn, she should shut up. But if she reached for him, she feared he would pull back and the desire in his eyes would disappear.

“I don’t know,” he growled. His forehead fell to rest against hers. “I do know I feel like I’m going to die if I can’t see your tattoo.”

“You want to see my tattoo?” Which would involve quite a few less clothes.

He nodded without ever taking his eyes off hers. “I want to know what it is. Why you got it.” His fingers toyed with her hair, along her scalp, stirring as much heat as his other hand on her hip. “Where it is.”

She couldn’t deny him his answer, feared she might not be able to deny this man anything. “You’re touching it.”

His hand tightened around her hip. She watched his throat move in a slow swallow.

Ethan’s chest pumped against hers, drawing in air. “Tell me what it is,” he demanded.

She slid her hand from between them to trace the pale line on the side of his neck. “If you tell me how you really got this scar, because I’m not buying the shaving accident story.”

His skin chilled beneath her touch. Ethan’s fingers convulsed in her hair, pulling almost too tight until she couldn’t stifle a wince.

Slowly, his fingers relaxed their grip as shutters closed over his eyes, shielding any further glimpses of the man inside. “On-the-job hazard. I made a mistake and lowered my guard.”

The terrifying reality of a knife at his throat doused her passion. But then what had she expected when she asked that question? She’d known full well the sort of answer she would receive.

Had she subliminally sabotaged the moment? And still she couldn’t stop herself. “What were you doing?”

Please, Lord, she hoped he wouldn’t say he’d been with another woman. “Ethan?”

“Sleeping. I was sleeping.”

Only sleeping. The lone word punched through any glorified dreams of fieldwork. Not some even-odds knife fight at all. He’d been ambushed in his sleep.

All his self-defense training the past week came crashing around her like those disks raining down. Rules and precise form didn’t count. Only fighting to win.

He carried a scar, and somehow she knew the other person hadn’t lived long enough for his wounds to heal into any such marks.

Chilling realization prickled over her. Forget hormones and tattoos. These were actual life-and-death stakes with her
as his partner. And apparently Ethan had remembered exactly the same thing.

He rolled off her and to his feet, visibly shutting down the desire that had been in his eyes only moments before. “We’re done for the day.”

Kelly suspected they were done for a lot longer with that. Thanks to her need to know more about Ethan and her penchant for asking questions, she’d just stripped away any possibility for seeing where the desire in his eyes might lead.

For the best, since her intent was to get over the man.

Right?

Ethan stood at the edge of the indoor pool and nudged a candlelit lily pad with the toe of his shoe. Over twenty-four hours since his tangle with Kelly on the weight-room floor and he still hadn’t been able to wash away the feel of her body pressed to his.

The last thing he wanted was to sit around at some dinner party and make nice. Of course his life seemed to consist of nothing more than wheel-spinning lately. He’d wasted hours on the phone with one of his old Holzberg contacts—a guy who obviously knew nothing about Alex Morrow and even less about a long-ago kidnapping attempt on Ethan in Switzerland.

Ethan shook the water off the tip of his shoe. He wanted a quick ending to this case and his life back in order.

He wanted to strip Kelly down and find her tattoo.

Instead, he had to suffer through some lame social engagement to solidify his cover.

He paced around the kidney-shaped pool, the entire area encased in a glass solarium with thriving plants. Fluorescent lights and moonbeams streamed through the glass roof, glistening off the water.

His aunt had planned the evening to include two other couples. People he socialized with more than anyone else but who knew nothing about the real Ethan. Not like Kelly.

What would his old college buddies Matt and Jake think of her?

Ethan’s restless feet carried him to the corner bar. No doubt White House advisor Matt Tynan would fall over laughing at seeing Ethan brought down. Of course, his old frat brother couldn’t understand why anybody would want to commit to one woman.

Commit.

Where the hell had that come from? Not out of him. He must be falling victim to sinking too deep into his cover.

Ethan snagged a cracker off a silver platter and scooped through caviar, reminding himself to keep perspective. Chewing, he rubbed a hand over his shoulder and worked to ease the ache from where the weight had grazed him. He needed to check in with Hatch about all Kelly’s recent “accidents” that Ethan’s gut insisted were nothing of the sort.

Agents who believed in coincidences died.

The defective weight machine. An overheated hot tub. And a tail during one of their runs that Kelly didn’t even know about.

What the hell was going on?

Whatever it was, he had enough on his plate finding Alex Morrow, stopping a jewel heist, and figuring out what the hell one had to do with the other. He didn’t need to waste brain cells trying to uncover Kelly’s tattoo.

An outside door to the pool area clicked, then swung open, admitting a cold blast of air and a bundled duo. Matt Tynan and Samantha Barnes made a damned striking pair, even if they were friends rather than a couple.

A rogue thought snuck into Ethan’s mind. How could he know these people well enough for them to be comfortable letting themselves in the back entrance to his home, when they knew so little about him personally? What kind of life had he set up for himself, keeping secrets beyond what even ARIES demanded?

Matt strode toward him with urbane assurance, brushing
snow off his shoulders. “Good Lord, it’s as cold out there as the mother-in-law I’ll never have.”

Ever the charming playboy, Matt played hard, worked hard and lived large. He might be fickle as hell in the romance department, but the guy made a fiercely loyal friend. He’d jumped right in to support Samantha, ambassador pro-tem to Delmonico, after her ambassador husband had died…six or so months ago? Matt made a better friend than Ethan ever had.

“Thanks for driving out.” Ethan reached to take Samantha’s coat. “Jake and his fiancée are running late.”

Samantha smiled over her shoulder, tugging her auburn hair free of the overcoat. “That will just give us first dibs on dishing out all the Ethan stories to this mystery woman.”

What would Kelly think of Matt’s stories of their college days at the University of Chicago? He, Matt, Jake and Eric, the fourth member of their Blues Brothers group, hadn’t come close to living the same sort of bookworm existence Kelly had.

Maybe Samantha might be a safer companion for Kelly for the evening. Given her new position in the embassy, Samantha knew Ethan had CIA connections, just not about his operative status or about ARIES.

Ethan squeezed her shoulder. “Hey, Samantha. How are you hanging in there?”

Samantha drew in a shaky breath. “Better today than yesterday. Maybe not so great tomorrow, but I know eventually the day after will be easier. Standing in as ambassador pro-tem keeps me busy. And there’s solidifying the economic treaty between Delmonico and the US before I head back.”

She’d been working nonstop since her husband had died, leading Matt to insist on bringing her along tonight as his date while she was in the country. Matt had worried she wasn’t giving herself time to grieve. Ethan knew time didn’t necessarily help.

Who did she turn to for support? He should have offered more than superficial condolences. “Call if you need to
talk.” He forced himself to offer more now. “I know where you are right now and it’s not a good place.”

Eyes wide, she kept tears back by not blinking and nodded. “Thank you.”

But he knew she wouldn’t. Indomitable Samantha Barnes never needed anyone.

Matt gravitated to the caviar. “So where’s this Venus who brought down our fleet-footed Ethan?”

“Kelly and I are just dating.” Why the defensive answer? Convincing them guaranteed success.

“Yeah, right.” Matt nudged the tray toward Samantha. “Like he brings all his dates to stay with his aunt? I don’t think so.”

What could he say? Matt had a point.

Ethan tucked behind the bar and poured drinks for his guests from memory. “Kelly will be down in a minute.”

Matt winked at Samantha. “Women and their makeup rituals.”

She elbowed him. “Brat.”

“Princess.”

“Bite your tongue.”

He grinned at her. “So you want me?”

Samantha snorted. “Not in this lifetime, Tynan.”

“Ah, then I’ll just have to hold out hope for the next incarnation.” Matt jabbed a finger toward Ethan. “Quit laughing. She turned you down, too, pal.”

Ethan shrugged. He and Samantha had gone out a couple of times. She was a gorgeous woman, a statuesque redhead, but chemistry was a damned unpredictable beast and it hadn’t been there for them.

Not like it was with Kelly.

Ethan glanced at his watch. Kelly was never late. The woman’s Palm Pilot told her when to eat, for God’s sake. Aunt Eugenie was probably plastering some kind of makeover magic on her face. He hoped he’d chosen right in trusting his aunt with this project.

A surge of protectiveness swelled within him. He wanted
this evening to go smoothly for Kelly, as well as for the investigation. He knew Matt and Samantha would charm her, but Jake’s fiancée hadn’t struck him as the empathetic sort. With any luck, she would be obsessed with the purchases from her prewedding shopping spree in New York and DC. He still couldn’t figure what his friend saw in the woman, not that it was any of his business.

Friend? His thoughts cranked back to Kelly being his friend. Except what he shared with her seemed different from what he experienced with these people.

Surely it had to be because he could let down with Kelly since she knew about his ARIES connection.

And then there she was. Kelly. His friend. Looking so like her but not at all that he forgot to breathe. He had to give Aunt Eugenie credit. She’d done her job well with subtle strokes of understated elegance.

A creamy blouse glided over Kelly’s skin, rippling a sheen of enticement with her every step. Silky black pants enhanced her dark eyes. Why had he never noticed her eyes before? He’d only seen the innocence, never the smoky temptation as she looked up through long lashes at him.

Her hair was gathered low at the base of her neck, the tail trailing over her shoulder in stark contrast with her pale shirt. Much like that same hair would look caressing her bare skin.

Rein it in, pal.

Ethan clasped her hands in his. “Hi, Kel.”

He meant to kiss her cheek.

Meant to.

But didn’t.

His mouth brushed hers. Not long. Not open. Damned platonic for that matter. And more arousing than anything he could remember.

Hell yeah, chemistry was an unpredictable creature.

His hands fell to rest on her hips. “You look great,” he growled, then wondered why he hadn’t said it louder for the benefit of other ears and the cover.

“Thank you.”

“Although those sweats of yours have their appeal.” He squeezed her hip right over that elusive tattoo. Taking advantage of the luxury of his cover, he lost himself in the smoky depths of her eyes until a throat cleared behind her.

Ethan glanced over Kelly’s shoulder to find Jake Ingram and his willowy blond fiancée, Tara, who was holding onto her man with a death grip.

“Well, fella,” Jake taunted with just a hint of Texas drawl to soften the edge, “the big ones do fall hard.”

Kelly slipped around to Ethan’s side. “Introduce me to your friends.”

Ethan searched for the right words to explain the woman at his side and found simply, “This is Kelly.”

How could he describe her any more fully when he barely understood her himself? Forget the adjustments in clothing, he’d found more layers to this woman the past week than all those sweaters she used to wear.