stilted conversation stuck in his throat and he walked to the single-brew coffee machine and set up an extra dark roast he hoped would do something for his mood.
“What happens once we get back to New York?”
Her words were quiet but there was no mistaking the apprehension laced underneath. That fact was even more evident as Liam turned toward her and caught sight of her shaking hand as she buttered her toast.
“We’ll protect you.”
“It’s not that simple. Whoever’s behind this has proven how stealthy they are. Do you have the resources to go up against someone with black ops training? Special forces training?”
The immediate reaction had him cocking his head. “You think a government’s behind this.”
“It’s a very real possibility.”
“What about the possibility it’s someone closer to you? The threats and intrusions have been very personal in nature.”
“Not possible.”
“Why not? To your point, someone in special ops knows how to take out a target.” The words were out before he could snatch them back and Liam knew how insensitive he sounded. Although it was another point in the “Liam’s a bastard” column, he refused to mince words with her.
He and his siblings had decided long ago that they wouldn’t keep clients ignorant of the danger that surrounded them. It was at best unfair and at worst, perilous to keep them in the dark.
“You’re saying if I were their intended target, I’d have been dealt with by now.”
“Yes.”
“It’s still not someone I know.”
“Why won’t you consider that possibility?”
She laid down the knife, her eyes wide. “I don’t have anyone in my life, friend or enemy. There’s no one who can hurt me.”
With precise movements she began wrapping the cord around the toaster and cleaning crumbs off the counter. Liam wanted to say something else—anything else—but he held back. He’d already been insensitive enough. What else could he say?
He moved into the living room and made a show of puttering with his suitcase and checking his bags. The sooner they got on their way, the better. When he heard the final sounds of the toaster being put away and running water in the sink he walked back in. “I have a service. You can leave those.”
“It’s just a few dishes.”
He’d have argued but she was already halfway through washing and had the plate and cup put up in minutes. The small motions fascinated him and he was forced to admit the women he usually brought here were all too happy to leave a mess behind, allowing someone else to take care of it.
Hell, he was all too content to leave a mess behind, paying someone to handle it.
And you’re getting weird over a plate and a cup, Steele.
Isabella grabbed her suitcase and headed for the door, the faintest smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Ready when you are.”
The ride to the lobby was quiet, the early morning hour ensuring very few were up and about. His doorman wasn’t at his post, which struck the back of his thoughts mere moments before the sight of a stranger sitting on one of the leather couches in the lobby caught his attention.
Where was Henri? And why was there someone in the lobby without supervision?
Isabella was still behind him, not yet visible until she stepped through the elevator. “Are we hailing a—”
Without thinking through the implications, he dragged Isabella into his arms and back toward the elevator doors. The car they were in had already closed and he stabbed the button with his free hand while pulling her close with the other.
“I’m thinking we can be late, darling.” His words echoed through the lobby, loud enough for anyone in earshot.
Without giving Isabella a chance to respond, he pressed his mouth to hers and prayed like hell the guy hadn’t seen her face.
Chapter 4
Her mind finally caught up with her actions and Isabella came to the abrupt realization she was kissing Liam Steele. Kissing him!
Her lips opened on an “O” of surprise and he simply used the gesture as an opportunity to slide his tongue fully against hers.
It was madness.
It was bliss.
The subtle ping of the elevator door went off behind her and she abstractly felt herself being walked backward into a waiting car. Rationally, her mind knew what was happening but she couldn’t seem to hold on to a single thought as insistent bursts of need buffeted her like winds battering a ship at high sea.
On some odd dimension of her brain, her scientific mind registered what was happening. The accelerated heart rate that slammed into her chest. The tightening of her skin, resulting in aching nipples. The rush of liquid heat at her core.
But the woman who’d been denied those reactions for far too long felt something entirely different.
The hard flex of his muscles where her hands lay over his shoulders. The tension of his tongue thrusting between her lips in an erotic dance that had stars exploding before her closed eyes. And the warm, rich scent that filled her senses with an earthy heat she couldn’t quite define. Cedar? Tobacco? Fresh grass?
Nothing fit, even as she catalogued each of those earthy scents before discarding them.
He was Liam and the power she’d sensed in him was nothing compared to the experience of having him pressed against every inch of her body.
That tantalizing scent continued to swirl around her senses before she was jerked from the moment—
“I’m sorry.”
Sorry? “What?”
Her stomach curdled as if filled with sour milk as he put distance between the two of them, moving to the far side of the elevator car.
“I don’t know why my doorman isn’t at his post and I didn’t like the look of the man in the lobby.”
“You think—” she broke off, not trusting herself to speak. That pervasive sense of danger returned—blessedly absent for those few brief moments in his arms—and along with it, she now had the embarrassment of extreme naïveté. “You think it’s the same threat from the hotel.”
“We can’t rule it out.” The elevators swung open on his floor and Liam stepped through the door, his outstretched hand keeping her in place in the elevator. She waited as he did a sweep of the hall, then saw his head nod. “Come on.”
She followed him, her suitcase heavy against her hand, as they retraced their steps to his apartment.
A ruse.
