Leather, Lace and Rock-n-Roll (6 page)

He sat down with a whole new respect for
Rachel’s intelligence. “How did you know she wouldn’t want to talk
real estate?”

Rachel lifted one shoulder. “Lucky
guess.”

“Well, you’re right. Ava doesn’t talk
business much.”

Rachel lowered her head for a quick moment
and then lifted it. “Did you know approximately two million women
in the U.S. have breast implants?”

Hawke paused. How was he supposed to answer
that? And more importantly, should he?

“Umm—”

“And,” she continued, oblivious to his
hesitance, “6% end up having them removed.”

Again, Hawke sat silent. Only, this time he
let his gaze drop to her chest. He didn’t even have to ask. Nothing
implanted there. And the result was absolute perfection.

He raised his gaze and cleared his throat,
hoping his next response would satisfy her. “Really?”

She nodded. “Yes. The American Medical
Association monitors those surgeries closely.”

Hawke shifted. Somehow the talk of breasts,
implants or real, had him achy and uncomfortable. And his position
wasn’t helped much when his mind flashed visions of yanking Rachel
out of her chair, plastering her to the table, ripping open her
blouse and sampling hers right then and there. Luckily, the waiter
arrived with dinner and both he and Rachel were preoccupied with
eating.

Throughout the meal, Hawke carefully kept
conversation light and far away from anatomy. Much to his relief,
Rachel seemed to relax and forget all about the earlier events of
the evening.

As soon as the plates were cleared, Hawke
pulled his cell phone from his pocket, dialed and then asked Max to
meet them at the back door. “How about a moonlight stroll?” he
suggested after he disconnected.

Rachel placed her napkin on the table. “As
nice as that sounds, Hawke, I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. I’ve got
some things to finish back at the office.”

“You work long hours,” he said carefully as
he helped her from the chair.

A small smile of enchantment touched her
lips. “Yes.”

“Maybe next time,” he suggested, escorting
her back out of the restaurant and into the car.

“Hawke,” she began hesitantly as Max drove to
Newberry & Tremaine, “I’m sure there are plenty of women
waiting for you at the hotel who would love to take a moonlight
stroll.”

He snickered in the darkness. “You’ve read
too many tabloids.”

Rachel dismissed him with a wave of her hand.
“I don’t read those magazines. Only thirty three percent of the
articles printed are based on fact anyway.”

He bit his lip. If she hadn’t read the
tabloids, then his PR worked. He’d managed to convince her he was a
careless, free spirit, loving and leaving women all over the world.
Except he wasn’t.

Somewhere, down deep in his heart, a part of
him wanted to set her straight. Why was that so important? He shook
his head. Normally by this time of the evening he’d be naked,
sweaty and satisfied. Yet, tonight he’d gotten more pleasure out of
taking her to dinner. Even if she avoided his advances.

Max brought the car to a stop and stepped out
to open the back door. Hawke took Rachel’s hand and led her through
the front door of the office building.

“Hawke, this really isn’t necessary.” She
frowned. “The building provides 24-hour security. I’ll be
fine.”

He pulled her onto the elevator. “Good to
know.”

He leaned casually against the wall railing
as the doors closed. “Are there cameras in the elevators?”

“No, just in the hallways.”

He pushed himself off the railing. “So, no
one could see what happened in here at any given time.”

“No.”

He moved closer and circled her with his
arms, gently placing one hand in the small of her back. “And, if
something did happen in here, only the occupants would know.”

Rachel answered with a slow nod.

“Do you want something to happen in
here?”

Her eyes glowed in the heat between them.
“Yes.”

Hawke swallowed her whispered consent as he
lowered his head and captured her lips. Within seconds of contact,
he fought the urge to wrap his fingers around her hair and pin her
to the wall. To lift her skirt over her creamy thighs and drape one
long, shapely leg across his hip. White-hot flames traveled the
length of his body. A breathy moan left her lips and taunted his
libido to put them both out of misery.

Yet, despite the electricity boiling his
blood, his insides quivered at the tenderness of her kiss. His
heart threatened to jump out of his chest. She felt so right. Warm,
soft, pliable, his for the taking. But not here. Not now.

His head swam as he lifted his lips from
hers. “Just for the record, Rachel, brains are beautiful.”

Hawke forced himself to release her long
enough to push the button to open the elevator doors. Knowing full
well they were now in the view of several strategically-placed
cameras, he returned her to his embrace. With a heavy sigh, he
placed a kiss on top of her head, then turned her and nudged her
through the open doors.

“Sweet dreams,” he told her as the doors slid
closed.

Max tapped Rachel’s business card against the
table as he waited for his team to arrive and wondered how the hell
they were going to pull this off.

Manuel Diego was a crafty prick and when
Uncle Sam called his SEAL team for help, Max knew the mission would
be more than they bargained for. Chasing terrorists was a bitch,
especially one who had managed to evade capture.

It hadn’t been his first choice to plant
Hawke in his current role but he had to admit, so far so good.
Hawke proved himself a dedicated soldier and better yet, a
communications genius. They had yet to find a computer Hawke
couldn’t hack. Who in their right mind would’ve ever known he also
possessed rock star quality? Traveling the world as a major rock
star had definite benefits and Hawke had opened several doors in
the investigation. In fact, it had been Hawke’s undercover work
that had brought them to Diablo, Arizona, hot on Diego’s heels.
And, until Hawke got up close and personal with Rachel Newberry
he’d been confident.

Maybe Steele would be a better candidate for
extracting information. Steele’s combination of smooth talk and
surfer-dude good looks pried information out of even the most
stubborn bastard. He operated on the basic principle that even a
criminal had his balls squeezed by the warm, promising grip of a
woman, and Steele made it a point to find her first. Once he worked
his magic, the criminal was putty in his hands. There was only
problem with that scenario, Hawke would never agree. And, in all
reality, Max couldn’t blame him. The mysterious Miss Newberry was
one fine female specimen.

Max propped his scuffed combat boots on the
table, folded his arms behind his head, and allowed his thoughts to
drift back over the latest cast of characters in this mission. Most
specifically, the stacked, blue-eyed blonde from the concert.

Normally he didn’t give Hawke’s groupies the
time of day, but this one demanded his attention. His undivided
attention. Compared to his six foot plus, she was tiny, just over
five feet tall with an attitude twice her size, and his animal
instincts roared to tame her. Yet, something about her spelled
wild. He winced when his cock jumped. Oh, hell no. He slammed the
door on his thoughts, relieved when the three other soldiers
entered the suite.

He glanced at Steele. “Well, any red
flags?”

“Maybe.”

Max eased to the front of the couch and
waited for him to elaborate.

“Pacific Valley Heights is clean, however,
Rachel Newberry is dodging shadows.”

“How so?” Max rubbed his jaw.

“She hasn’t been in Diablo long. She was
employed by Bridgewater & Austin in New York City.”

“Impressive firm.”

“She left New York City in a hurry.”

Max’s gut clenched. “Why?”

“Apparently, her architectural degree wasn’t
the only thing that impressed William Bridgewater. They were lovers
for almost two years. When Bridgewater’s wife caught on, all hell
broke loose. In the end, Bridgewater blamed the whole thing on
Rachel and fired her. Rachel packed her bags and left town.”

Max snorted. “That’s it?”

Steele nodded. “So far. Cameron Tremaine is
interesting, though.”

“Tell me about it,” Max muttered. “Has she
done time?”

Steele snickered. “No, nothing like that. She
doesn’t have a criminal record. She has, however, had a stalker in
the past.”

“Who?”

“Ex-boyfriend. He is doing time. The arrest
report is hilarious.”

“How so?”

“The responding officer found him with a
black eye, a bloody nose, and his hands tied behind him with
nylon.”

“Rope?”

“No...pantyhose.”

Max shook his head in disbelief and pinched
the bridge of his nose. Pantyhose. She used pantyhose to tie up her
stalker. Unbelievable. Resourceful, but unbelievable.

He wondered what kind of weapon she branded
to beat him. Probably one of those high heeled contraptions she
wore. The ones that made her legs go on for days. The same
accessories that would look perfect on her naked body.

Someone cleared his throat and Max glanced up
to see Hawke wearing a shit-eating grin. He quickly forced his
thoughts away from Princess Seduction. In fact, the further away
from her he stayed, the better.

Convinced he was back in his right mind, Max
eased himself off the couch. “Any information about Rachel’s
activities at Bridgewater?”

Steele shook his head. “Zilch. She had little
contact with anyone but him.”

Max glanced at the second soldier. Best damn
tracker he’d ever known. Silent and dangerous, able to slip
undetected in and out of the darkness. “What about movement,
Shadow?”

“I’ve followed her for a week. Same routine.
No indication she meets anyone for a drop. If I didn’t know better,
I’d say the green-eyed groupie went to the concert for one
reason.”

Just as Max anticipated, Hawke jumped all
over that accusation. “She’s not a groupie.”

Steele shot Hawke a puzzled glance. “Hawke,
women who hang out back stage are groupies.”

“Well, yeah,” Hawke agreed, “but not Rachel.
She actually ran away from me.”

Shadow steepled his fingers and grinned.
“She’s playing cat and mouse.”

“No. She’s not interested.” Hawke released a
heavy breath. “When I took her to dinner, she held me at arm’s
length the whole time. She thinks I’m a cocky, spoiled player.”

Shadow shrugged. “You are.”

Although he knew Hawk’s reasons for defending
Rachel, Max still felt there was more to her reluctance. “The whole
seduction scenario sounds fishy to me.”

Shadow grinned. “Why?”

“I know firsthand the blonde hellcat had to
pull her backstage. Rachel obviously went by force.”

Hawke smirked. “The hellcat has a name,
Captain.”

Steele and Shadow both lifted their
eyebrows.

Max folded his arms across his chest and
refused to fall for Hawke’s pitiful attempt to trap him. “All I’m
saying is that Rachel doesn’t fit the prototype of a gold digger.
And, her professional reputation is spotless.”

Max watched a mischievous grin cross Hawke’s
face. “See? She came to see me.”

Shadow shook his head. “This assignment’s
made you such a diva, Hawke.”

“So how does she fit in Diego’s
organization?”

Despite his desire to defend Rachel, Hawke
slipped back into soldier mode. “I intercepted an e-mail from one
of her clients last week. Apparently, he sends a lot of foreign
business her way. Plans are shipped to her in a standard cardboard
tube. She adds the finishing touches, re-packages the product, and
then returns them via courier.”

Shadow nodded. “Sounds plausible.”

Hawke’s eyes narrowed. “These plans, most for
commercial buildings, never materialize. Not one structure
exists.”

Shadow lifted an eyebrow. “There’s something
else in those tubes.”

“Exactly.” Hawke shrugged. “My guess is plans
for Diego’s nuclear weapons.”

“Sonuvabitch.” Shadow’s eyes widened. “You
really think she’s a part of his network?”

Max answered for Hawke. “For now. We have to
wait for Hawke to work his magic to know for sure.”

Hawke grinned. “My pleasure.”

Max took full advantage to wipe the cocky
smirk from Hawke’s face. “You sure you’re up for this?”

“Hell yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Cut the bullshit, Hawke. It doesn’t take
Einstein to see the chemistry between you two. You’ve got to keep
your head in the game.”

“My head is in the game.”

“You’re sure it’s the right head? Because you
can’t screw up. We have one chance with this guy.”

“Have I ever let you down, Captain?”

“No. Just so we’re clear.”

“Crystal. Besides, you work for me,
remember?”

“I kick myself in the ass every day for
letting you talk me into that.”

Steele snickered. “Where do we go from here,
Captain?”

“Follow the plan. Hawke keeps up appearances.
You and Shadow monitor the movement and communications.”

Hawke nodded. “Speaking of appearances, I’m
scheduled to be in Sacramento Tuesday.”

“Convince her to go with you. While we’re
gone, Shadow can tap the office. Steele, you have pest
control.”

“Me?”

“Somebody has to make sure the office stays
vacant.”

“Rachel and I are supposed to meet the
housing committee Monday morning.”

“Where?”

“Same building as Newberry &
Tremaine.”

Max stood. At least the place was secure.
“Well then, let’s get this party started.”

***

Rachel felt moisture coat the back of her
neck as she and Hawke entered the posh offices of the Pacific
Valley Heights Neighborhood Association. With any kind of luck, the
director would take one look at Hawke and approve the application
without discussion. Unfortunately, Lady Luck always seemed to avoid
her.