the water up as hot as he could stand, Sean took his time, standing under the pulsing stream. Each swipe of the soapy washcloth reminded him of Natalie’s hands, soft and silky on his rough skin. By the time he’d finished cleaning, his arousal was nearly unbearable in its intensity.
He had two choices—turn the faucet to cold or take matters into his own hands.
Stubborn and hurting, he refused to do either. Instead, he forced his mind onto other matters and finished his shower. By the time he turned off the water, he’d nearly returned to normal.
Until he opened the shower curtain, reached for his towel and saw her.
She’d undressed in the steamy bathroom, and her pale skin glistened with the damp heat. Unclothed, she let him look at her, no false modesty between them, her breasts high and firm over her narrow waist and the curve of her hips, her chin lifted proudly. No guilt or remorse darkened her expression.
She’d come for him. Why now? Yet she had, and whatever her reasons, he would take her any way he could get her. He’d worry about the why later.
“Natalie?” Her name rolled off his tongue like a prayer. She nearly overwhelmed him, there so close, naked, looking better than she had the thousand times he’d dreamed of her. Her scent, musky and full of desire, made him feel as if he was drowning. The look in her eyes, hot and sensual, reflected his own emotions—so much more than simple need or lust or desire—and he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t imagining this.
Natalie wanted him. Finally he could join his body to hers once again.
For two long years he’d thought of little else. Natalie, his Natalie. The woman he’d been willing to die for.
His breath caught in his throat. Somehow, he choked out her name again.
She held out her arms. Without hesitation, he went to her, crushing her to his chest so she could feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat, moving them both out of the bathroom, toward the bed. His body primed, he tried to hold away from her, not wanting to frighten her with the strength of his arousal.
He should have known better. This Natalie, the adventurous Super-spy, wasn’t afraid of anything.
Both hands on his backside, she pulled him to her. Together, they tumbled backward onto the bed.
Their mouths touched. Locked. Greedy, he tried to rein in his passion, but two years of dreaming and longing and missing her had taken their toll.
He didn’t think he’d ever been so aroused. So ready. Fleetingly, he wondered how he’d lived without her. Then she took him in her hands and he lost all capacity for rational thought.
Just as he pushed her away, unable to bear any more without exploding, her cell phone rang.
“Ignore it,” she murmured, shimmying into position over him, poised to take him deep inside her. “They’ll call back.”
“Good advice,” he muttered. One thrust and he’d be in, yet for some reason, he hesitated.
As soon as her cell quit ringing, his began.
Reluctantly, he glanced at it. “It must be important,” he growled. Body throbbing, he cursed once more before snatching the phone and flipping it open. “Hello?”
“Sean, I have some bad news,” Corbett’s voice came over the line. “Phillip’s missing.”
“Missing?”
“Who?” Natalie mouthed, suddenly alert.
“Your father.”
All the blood drained from her face.
Gripping the phone, Sean swallowed. “What do you mean, missing? He’s in a wheelchair and when he goes out he’s driven by one of your men. You should know where he is at all times.”
“His van and my man are missing also.” Corbett sounded weary and furious, all at the same time.
“What?” None of this made sense. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I’ve got people working on finding that out.”
Sean raised his head to find Natalie watching him, an expression of concern on her lovely face. His gut clenched as he remembered his own family and how he’d tried to shield her from the terrible truth.
He could not shield her from this.
“Let me talk to Natalie,” Corbett said.
“Not now.” Sean took a deep breath. “We’ll call you back.” Without giving Corbett a chance to disagree, he disconnected the call.
“What happened to my father?”
He told her all he knew, holding her tightly.
In shock, she let him. When she raised her head, the blank look she gave him clawed at his heart. “Is there something else you haven’t told me?”
“No.”
Her frown made it plain she didn’t believe him. “No ransom note?”
“Corbett’s looking into it. You know how close the two of them are.”
With a sound of pain, she twisted out of his arms, got off the bed and grabbed her clothes.
“I want to talk to Corbett.” Opening her own phone, she punched in the number.
Corbett must have been waiting by the phone for her call. Sean watched while Natalie listened, the anguished expression on her face making him ache.
“Wait a minute, Corbett,” she said, clutching the phone so tightly her knuckles showed white. “Let me put you on speaker so Sean can hear, too.” She pressed a button. “All right. Go ahead.”
“I’ve got two people working full-time on finding him.”
“Who?” Sean asked.
“Martin Routh and Catherine Cordasic.”
Sean started. “One of the Cordasics?” Widely known in the international espionage community, the Cordasics were a highly respected family of spies whose lineage dated back to the eighteenth century.
“Yes. She’s working as an independent contractor, at my request.”
Sean whistled. “You must have pulled a few strings.”
Natalie cleared her throat. “Famous spies mean nothing to me unless they find my father. Tell me the truth, Corbett. You and my father didn’t have a clandestine conversation about the need for him to go into hiding, did you?”
“Of course not.” Corbett’s icy voice turned positively glacial. “I’m afraid your father’s disappearance might be tied up with the Hungarian.”
Sean choked back a curse. Not again. He didn’t know how he’d live through more senseless slaughter.
Natalie
