Beck & Call (3 page)

Naturally, Curtis and Jake were familiar with her product. No self-respecting frequenter of Diogenes would dream of buying gear retail.

Aside from admiring her work, Jake liked Hillary as a person. She was attractive, witty, and not at all romantic. They’d shared dinner and a night in bed on a number of occasions. Jake appreciated her enthusiasm for sensory pleasures and that she knew the score. She loved martinis, had two grown kids and an ex-husband. More than that he didn’t need to know.

A female less like Mia Beck was hard to imagine.

As he slid out of his shiny black Acura, in which he’d driven the three of them, he was aware of Mia’s presence behind him. The girl was his personal erotic Achilles’ heel. Though she had a brain, “Innocence” could have been her middle name. Those big brown eyes of hers always seemed to be hoping for something. She spoke what she thought far too often, loved to please those she cared about, and possessed a mouth as sweet and soft as a girl half her age. She wore a bouncy ponytail, for crap’s sake, like she’d escaped a Fifties sock hop an hour before. Her body recalled Norma Jean rather than Marilyn, her tender curves taunting red-blooded wolves like Jake to sink their teeth into them. Worse, Mia had no idea how mouthwatering she was.

This, of course, made him burn all the hotter to debauch her.

Off limits
, he thought, clenching his jaw as he opened the door for her. The reminder was for her sake as much as his. He’d been cynical before the CIA sent him on his eight-year tour of black ops hotspots. After it, he was just plain broken in many ways. His wiseass front only went skin deep. He couldn’t trust, wouldn’t love, and might never believe humans as a species were good for much. Signing on with Curtis, who actually had principles, had been his first attempt to climb out of the pit of bitterness he’d sunk in.

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t drag a girl like Mia down with him.

Given what Curtis was proposing, keeping that promise would be difficult.

Mia took Jake’s hand and got out, blushing slightly at the contact while pretending she was not. She let go too soon and not soon enough. The weather was cool and misty, and she tied the belt of her leather trench coat tighter around her waist. She was proud of that coat, which she’d saved up for and wore every day she could.

Probably she’d love being wrapped all over in black leather.

Jake turned away sharply, his cock grown heavy from the images in his mind. “This way,” he said, refusing to glance back at her again. “The entrance is around the corner.”

He felt Curtis shoot him a look but didn’t return it.

The boutique was as he remembered, the racks organized but stuffed with expensive clothes that smelled faintly of dry cleaning. The old-fashioned doorbells jingled as Curtis shut the door. Habit sent Jake’s gaze around, taking in the lack of customers and locating the EXIT sign.

The street outside wasn’t busy. He registered no threats … apart from what Mia posed to his self-control.

Hillary was behind the counter, paging through accounts on an iPad screen. As they entered she looked up. In her tailored suit and tasteful jewelry, she could have passed for a high-paid attorney.

She broke into a smile of genuine pleasure on seeing him.

“Well,” she said, coming around the barrier to kiss his cheek. Her skyscraper heels lifted her even taller than usual. Lean as a whippet, she smelled of Chanel and quality cosmetics. “Jake. I wasn’t counting on seeing you today.”

He felt unaccountably awkward kissing her in return, aware that Mia’s big brown eyes tended to see a lot. He put his hands on Hillary’s shoulders, gently controlling how close she could come and how long she could linger.

“You’re looking well,” he said, rather than explain that the mission they were on also concerned him.

Hillary laughed and turned to kiss Curtis too, though in a less flirty way. After that, she regarded their young colleague. “This must be the moppet you want me polish up.”

Her tone was a teensy bit condescending. Mia must not have noticed, because she didn’t blush. She was gazing wide-eyed at Hillary. “That blonde is
killer
on you. Your colorist is an artist.”

Her compliment couldn’t be mistaken for anything but sincere. Since Hillary had reached a certain age, and Mia was too young to sport a single thread of gray in her chestnut locks, it was also an inadvertently good comeback. Disconcerted, Hillary’s hand flew to her sleek champagne do. Though Mia didn’t know it, this was a coup. Hillary Sweets was nearly impossible to fluster.

Curtis pressed two fingers to his lips to conceal amusement. “We need Mia to look suitable for Audition. Eye-catching but not cheap. More grownup but not overdoing that either.”

“Understood,” Hillary said dryly, considering Mia more professionally now that she’d recovered from being caught off guard. “Youth is an asset no women should overlook.”

“I’m not good with heels,” Mia warned hastily. “If I don’t have to wear anything too high, that would probably be safer for everyone.”

Hillary’s smile warmed her face in slow motion, like a cat enjoying a mouse’s naiveté.

Jake had a feeling Mia was in for it.

~

Mia stared at herself in the changing room mirror and mentally went
ulp
.

The dress Hillary had chosen for her was blood red, skintight, and didn’t come close to covering all of her. Though it had sleeves, its intricate wrap design exposed portions of her midriff and a lot of her back and spine. When she twisted around to look, her butt was just about indecent. She spotted tailbone dimples, though thankfully not cleavage. She recalled seeing a famous pop star wearing something similar recently. Shocked, she tried to tug down the hem, but her thighs—which definitely did not possess a gap—refused to un-display themselves. The heels she’d been given were midnight black velvet. Surprisingly not pinchy, they were tall enough to cause her ankles to wobble.

“I don’t think this outfit is going to work,” she said to the shop owner.

Hillary opened the swinging door. “You’re kidding, right? I’d do you in that dress.”

This was both flattering and alarming. Hillary was as far out of her league as Jake. “Curtis said he didn’t want me to look cheap.”

“Trust me, sweetie, at $2,000 new, that dress doesn’t qualify. Those shoes look like they fit. Come out and show the men.”

“Do I have to?” she pleaded.

“Jesus.” Hillary laughed as she laid one hand on Mia’s arm, the gesture friendlier than she’d made before. “You have no idea what a treasure your body is.”

“It’s a private treasure,” she protested then blushed at how prissy she’d just sounded.

Because Hillary didn’t relent, Mia trailed her out of the dressing room. Cheeks blazing, her gaze immediately went to Jake. Not one to let down his guard, he was keeping tabs on the foot traffic outside the shop and had his back to her. He turned slowly as they entered—as if he didn’t want to see what Hillary had accomplished.

“Wow,” Curtis said. “Talk about a transformation.”

Jake’s granite jaw tightened. He seemed frozen in position, his hyper-vigilance momentarily in abeyance. His blue eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Hillary guessed the meaning his reaction sooner than Mia did. She laughed throatily. “I take it you approve.”

“She’ll do,” Jake grudged, his always raspy voice harsher than usual. “She still needs hair and makeup.”

“I can handle that,” Hillary said.

“I can’t walk in these shoes,” Mia tried, sensing she was losing her say in the situation. “I’m going to fall over.”

“Practice,” Jake advised without one drop of sympathy.

Mia couldn’t prevent her eyebrows from shooting up. Jake never talked to her like that, like he was the boss of her. Her pulse skipped, a tiny surge of adrenaline centering in the sweet spot between her legs. She was very aware that the dress didn’t allow her to wear a bra, and that her nipples were tightening. The heightening of sensation felt good but embarrassing.

Jake cleared his throat. “The shoes are good. They’re the sort women wear to Audition.”

“Okay,” she said unsurely.

“You do look appropriate,” Curtis seconded. “We just need to decide what kind of drama we should spin to catch Call’s eye.”

“Curtis,” Jake said, like he was scolding him. Did Jake think he could order him around too?

“What?” Curtis seemed surprised by the tone as well.

“You know there can’t be a ‘we’ in this scenario. Everyone at Diogenes is aware you don’t play with girls.”

“More’s the pity,” Hillary murmured to her manicured fingernails. “Gingers are so much fun.”

Curtis flushed. “I wasn’t planning to …” He waved his hands vaguely. “I have to be there. Mia is my responsibility.”

“Mia is like your sister.”

“Exactly,” Curtis said.

“Would you want your sister watching you at Diogenes? Wouldn’t her presence inhibit you?”

“Shit,” Curtis said, seeing too late the corner Jake had maneuvered him into.

Jake put his hand on Curtis’s shoulder. “Some things can’t be coached. If this plan has any chance of working, we need Mia to react naturally.”

“You mean I have to trust
you
to take care of her.”

“Yes.”

“No matter what it ends up involving.”

“No matter what,” Jake confirmed.

“I
am
jealous now,” Hillary laughed softly.

Her comment shook Mia from the captivated daze the men’s conversation had put her in. “What precisely are you expecting me to do?”

Jake’s hot blue gaze locked on hers. Though his face wasn’t showing an expression, his nostrils had flared and a hint of color darkened the slanting blades of his high cheekbones. The stubble that shaded his jaw made him seem even manlier. Mia couldn’t deny her heart was racing.

“I expect you to do everything I ask,” he said. “The moment I ask you to.”

His voice was sandpaper with smoke flowing over it.

Wow
, she thought as she literally wet her panties with excitement. Both her knees and her hands felt like they were vibrating.

“And if I don’t?” The husky words came out with no preplanning.

Jake leaned intimately closer. “If you don’t, I expect you to pay whatever price I set.”

Everyone else disappeared from the room. There was only him: his eyes, his scent, the pure male danger he exuded. Mia would have given anything to have him lay hands and more on her right then. Her daydreams paled compared to his raw appeal. Her pussy ached to have his cock shoved in it, its creaming walls fluttering.

“Uh,” Curtis said from what sounded like a great distance. “Maybe you two should save some of this for later.”

Jake drew back from her with his trademark smirk.

“You okay?” Curtis asked, dragging her focus—somewhat reluctantly—to him. “There’s still time for you to back out.”

Curtis’s worried green eyes acted to clear her brain.

“This case matters,” she said. “Not just for the firm but maybe even for national security. Someone ought to find out if Damien Call stole those plans.”

“That doesn’t mean the someone has to be you.”

Maybe it didn’t. Though she refused to look in Jake’s direction, she sensed him beside her: silent, tall, radiating more than a mere 98.6 degrees. Jake acted cool, but now he was aroused—probably throwing wood in his business suit. Right or wrong, Mia wanted more of what he’d teased her with. This plan might be nothing but a means to an end to him, a game his heart wouldn’t enter in. Maybe she’d end up broken. Maybe she’d be sorry. For sure, she’d have an intense experience. One hundred percent alive, like she doubted she’d ever been.

Hadn’t losing her brother taught her that was important?

“I want to do it,” she said softly.

When Jake hissed in a breath, she knew she wasn’t thinking about the safety of her country.

MIA
had more time to second-guess her bold decision than she wanted. Genbolt dragged its feet making a decision, and as a result their plan was on hold. Over the course of the next few days, Curtis wrangled with Raeburn’s people, trying to pin the big man down to officially hiring them. Finally—perhaps because he wanted to take Curtis’s measure in person—Sam Raeburn agreed to meet at Discreet’s offices.

Mia’s first real world glimpse of the CEO was informative. He’d come on his own, without a driver or bodyguard and carrying a black briefcase. Mia found him physically imposing. 5’10” or thereabouts, he was stocky but not fat. His hair was a bristly pewter, his face tanned and weather lined but unremarkable in either beauty or ugliness. She remembered he’d competed in the World Cup, which might explain his sailor’s squint. Genbolt’s boat hadn’t won the race, but that couldn’t have been for lack of trying.

Raeburn radiated tenacity, his
I own the world
stride the most striking thing about him. His walk reminded her of the Russian leader Putin—a beefed-up strong man crossed with a bull. The posturing would have amused her if both men’s power weren’t undeniable.

Genbolt’s annual revenues exceeded the gross domestic product of some countries.

When she took Raeburn’s beautiful wool overcoat to hang it up, his pale blue eyes swept her. He seemed to note everything about her without registering her as a person. That’s how it felt, anyway. He actually did thank her
.

Now he was in the conference room with Jake and Curtis while she waited dutifully at her desk. The bursts of male laughter that swept out told her Curtis had succeeded in putting the CEO at ease. She glanced at her watch. They’d been in there five minutes, long enough for her to bring in coffee.

She’d already gathered cups and saucers and cream and sugar that didn’t come in packets. The scones came from a bakery down the street, and she’d sliced little bowls of fruit with her own two hands. The refreshments were a cut above their usual, despite which she was abruptly certain she might as well have plopped a box of Pop-Tarts on the table.

Sam Raeburn probably never threw a meeting without a cordon bleu caterer.

He glanced up as she wheeled in the wobbly cart. This time his sharp eyes saw her. She wished they hadn’t. Ever since she’d tried on the red dress at Sweets, her wardrobe seemed dowdy. Generally, she was proud of her bargain hunting, but now she felt second-rate.