Cinderella Undercover (2 page)

“Maybe during the festivities we’ll find time to get reacquainted.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be a guest this evening. I’ll be working.” He shut the door, and a moment later, the limousine was in route.

The blackened windows kept anyone from seeing in, and she was unsettled that she couldn’t see out. Since she couldn’t determine their direction, she leaned back and steeled her nerves. Not only did she have concerns about the mission, she had serious reservations about Jaron. To say he’d be excited to see her would be a gross miscalculation. She only hoped he didn’t break cover. Hers or his.

After twenty minutes, the vehicle came to a stop, and Rick opened the door for her. She held his hand as she slipped from the car.

Maxwell Evenson lived in an impenetrable fortress, bordered by miles of marshy thickets and swamp, security cameras, and armed guards. Getting in wouldn’t be difficult. After all, she was invited. The trouble would come when it was time to get out.

Acres of manicured lawns and gardens surrounded a sprawling three-story structure. An armed guard stood on each of the front facing balconies. Ornate security bars crossed over every window.

She followed Rick into the complex. “I’ll have someone show you to your room. As you know, Mr. Evenson has a special dinner planned for this evening.” Yes, that was how she was able to get in, undercover and under the radar. She was one of a dozen escorts hired to entertain. “Mr. Evenson will send for you when your services are required.”

“Excellent.” Perhaps she’d have time to wander about and get the layout of the house. Once she made contact with Jaron, she’d have full scope of their situation.

However, she didn’t have to wait to ascertain his condition. He appeared in the corridor and approached. Her pulse jumped then hammered against her ribs.

“Whitt, I was just about to show Miss Tory to her room.”

Tory cocked an eyebrow. Her mouth was dry, and her palms were damp, but she didn’t show any outward sign of the riot of emotions swirling in her tummy. Not only was he alive, he was breathtaking.

“I’ll show her.” Jaron was ex-Navy SEAL. His physique still carried the hard lines of a disciplined life. However, in the six months since she’d seen him, he’d lost some of his mass. More about his appearance had changed. He’d altered his striking blue eyes with brown contacts, but he couldn’t do anything about the fringe of long, dark lashes. And while still black as night, he’d grown his hair longer in the back. Soft curls framed his masculine features—strong square jaw, nearly straight nose, and high forehead.

Tory knew he’d been on this assignment for a few months. The Louisiana sun had turned him into an exotic bronzed god. Had she not known every inch of his magnificent body, she might not have recognized him. But then, that was what Echelon Shield ops were trained to do. Blend in and disappear.

Yet, when she looked beneath the dangerous veneer, Jaron looked tired. Dark circles marred the flesh under his cunning eyes. Hollow cheeks were shadowed with a day’s worth of whiskers. His mouth didn’t smile, and he didn’t look pleased. He narrowed his gaze and extended his hand. “Miss Tory.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Whitt.”

Rick laughed. “Not likely, but he’ll be civil.”

“Because there’s a lady present,” Jaron said, “I won’t tell you to fuck off.”

Jaron grabbed her bag and placed his hand on her elbow. The warmth from his palm seeped into her skin, yet his strong fingers brooked no doubts to his displeasure. Tory didn’t flinch, but stepped closer to Jaron, easing the pressure of his grip.

Jaron propelled her toward the grand staircase leading to the second floor. The over-abundance of wealth was evident in the thick, decorative rug covering the mosaic tile. She placed her hand on the carved hardwood banister. They climbed the stairs and turned to the left.

Jaron didn’t speak as he led her down the wide corridor. Her steps were whisper quiet on the plush carpeting. They passed several large mahogany doors, which, she assumed, led to guest rooms. A security camera mounted to the wall monitored the doors and hall. Like a gallery, original, large, framed oil paintings hung on the walls between the doors. Fresh flower arrangements sat on narrow marble-topped tables.

“This hall almost looks like a hotel. Does Mr. Evenson have many visitors?”

“The house is always active. Staff, guests.” He was quiet a moment as they passed another door. “And others.” He met her stare. “Even when you think you’re alone…you aren’t.”

She’d deceived herself into thinking his presence wouldn’t influence her performance. Just as he had eighteen months ago when she’d met him, and during the six months they were lovers, she heated with the thought of him and with a touch, flames streaked across her flesh. Sex between them had been incredible, but it wasn’t the end of their affair that stung. It was how he had left—stealing away in the early morning hours, taking an assignment, and never offering an explanation.

“Mr. Evenson has asked me to entertain his guests. I don’t suppose I’m lucky enough that you might be one of those guests.” She raised an eyebrow and trailed her fingers up his corded forearm, nails combing through the dusting of dark, silken hairs. The muscle twitched and his fist clenched. If the closeness of their proximity was affecting him, good. Because she felt like kissing him senseless, then using her Aikido skills to kick his ass for making her worry…for forcing her to acknowledge she cared.

“Perhaps not his favorite guest, but I’m certain you could entertain me.” Realizing the roll she played, he slipped his hand to her hip.

Tory’s heart jumped at the familiar feel of his palm on her body. An answering warmth simmered in her pussy and traveled into her nipples. She didn’t want this molten heat consuming her. They were playing a game of sorts—a deadly game. She had to be flirtatious.

The problem was her body responded to a craving she’d had for Jaron since she’d first met him. A fierce sexual connection and the thrilling excitement of a man who lived on the edge had made it so easy to fall in love with him. And that made him dangerous.

Tory slammed the door closed on her memories. She wasn’t desperate enough to expose her heart to hurt again—even if it meant having an incredible orgasm…or two.

They stopped at the second to the last door in the hall. “Could you show me around my room?”

Jaron opened the door. Waves of tension rolled off him, giving her a strange sense of power. The tight line of his mouth, the stiffness of his broad shoulders, and his brusque movements revealed just how tightly coiled his grasp on the situation was.

Tory entered the room, and Jaron followed. The door shut with a soft thud and then the lock clicked. She moved around the room, running her fingers over the white duvet on the large king-sized bed. Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the barred window.

Because she suspected the room was under surveillance, she couldn’t scrutinize the walls or the ceiling, searching for potential complications. However, she could guess where the sound and video cameras were hidden. Assessing the setup or doing anything about it would have to wait until nightfall.

She strode across the room. Jaron smiled before she reached him. What in the hell did he have to smile about? She’d say he was up to his eyeballs in shit, but she couldn’t. Until they were in a secure room, they’d discuss nothing of the operation. Tory just wanted to get the facts, execute Jaron’s plans for planting the undetectable computer spyware in Maxwell Evenson’s network and get the hell out. She intended to spend as little time as possible with Jaron Quinn.

“So is there a way we could pass the time while waiting for dinner? Perhaps you could give me a tour of the property. We could find a quiet spot—a place where we could be alone and get to know each other better.”

* * * *

Christ, if ES questioned whether he could complete his mission, why in the hell had Amine sent Victoria, the one woman who could distract him and blow the whole fucking assignment? He’d been behind schedule before, missed extraction deadlines, and still managed to finish the mission.

He stared hard into her eyes…

Unless she wasn’t here to help him.

He took a step closer. Tory retreated until her back pressed against the wall. He put an arm on each side of her head. Not even her smoky violet eyes, long blonde hair, or sinful body would distract him from his target. This wasn’t a game. He leaned in close.

“Are you here for me?” he whispered, knowing Maxwell’s security team would be listening through the devices placed throughout the room. The house was wired, but there were a few safe locations. The most sophisticated equipment wasn’t failsafe. ES’s intel had been detailed and extensive but hadn’t sufficiently profiled what Jaron would encounter.

“Not you, specifically.” The breathy words whispered near his ear. The seductive scent of her perfume lingered close to her skin. He breathed deeply. “But I’m sure I could be of service to you.”

“Maybe I’m not interested.” A slow surging of blood to his dick made a liar of him.

Inhaling, she brushed her breasts against his chest. Then she released a shuddering exhale. The angle of her hips rubbed her against the hard bulge of his cock swelling against the zipper of his jeans. “I assure you.” She rocked against him, playing her role perfectly. “I can assist you with your not-so-small problem.”

He growled, gripped her hips, and let her feel the full measure of his arousal. “Are you sure you know what you’re asking for? I like to play rough, dirty.”

“Then you think it’s dangerous for me to play with you?”

“Damn straight. A smart, beautiful woman should know when she’s in over her head.”

“Hmm. Maybe I like to play with fire.” She nipped his chin. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until after I speak with Mr. Evenson. I believe he has plans for me this evening.”

Rage, white and hot, flashed through him. Six months ago, his future was too uncertain to continue his involvement with Victoria. But if she thought for a minute he’d be able to stand by and watch her flirt or anything else with a brutal man like Maxwell Evenson, she was out of her beautiful mind.

Jaron didn’t give a damn why Amine thought he needed to send her in. He could handle Evenson. No way was he letting
Tory
involve herself.

He leaned in, pinning her to the wall. “You should know we’re under surveillance.”

“I like an audience.” She cocked her head coyly to the side. “Do you want to watch?”

He released a breath. “What do you think?” She knew he did. The last time they were together, Victoria draped across the bed, her thighs open while she fingered her clit. Small gentle circles at first built pressure until she bit hard on her lower lip and cream trickled from her center. He’d delved between her thighs, lapped her honey until they’d both been drunk with lust.

Jaron convinced himself what he’d felt for her couldn’t be love, because he’d had to protect her—by leaving her. Staying together put her at too much risk. Frank had shown him that. Shown him that a man who lived on the edge and risked his life for the cause couldn’t love a woman like Victoria. Yes, she was part of ES, but she would never infiltrate cave camps in Afghanistan, or become part of a Central American drug cartel to stop the flow of cocaine over the border. Amine had pointed out the hard truths. Jaron might not come home one day. They both loved Victoria enough not to put her through the loss of another person she loved.

Jaron brought their faces close together. “If you push me, princess, I’m going to give you exactly what you want.”

“Princess? Perhaps you should be on your knees.”

He chuckled. Breath mingled. “A tempting offer.” One he remembered sampling often. He recalled her swollen pink lips, parting her silken inner folds with his thumbs, and tonguing the pearl of her pussy, making her cream against his mouth. Swallowing hard, he salivated with want for a taste.

“I was given the impression that my services were needed.” Her pulse fluttered in the long column of her neck. She trembled at his nearness.