Carnal Innocence

She was tall, just a few inches shorter than him—and he was six-two. Her honey-gold hair feathered across her cheeks and forehead in something like a pageboy cut. Only curlier. Sexier. Her gray eyes had darkened to the color of a battleship. And there was definitely a battle waging there. Fire. Fear, maybe. Questions, certainly. But definitely fire.

Plan B took shape in his mind.

He skimmed his gaze down the front of her gray-heather T-shirt. Her breasts were small, barely noticeable beneath the oversize cotton garment. But her hips flared nicely. And those legs… Sean swallowed hard and leaned back to scan every smooth, shapely inch. An image of those legs wrapped around his hips, binding them together in the most elemental of ways, sprang into his mind, consuming his body in a flush of instant heat. Now his imagination decided to kick in!

Sean squeezed his eyes shut and focused on controlling the involuntary response. It had been too long since he’d had sex. That was all. Not once during the Marquez case. Nor the case before that.

He wasn’t a celibate man by nature, but he worked long, difficult hours. He kept company with equally busy fellow agents and criminal lowlifes. When he did run across a woman who charged his engines, he’d make a play for her. A few were okay with his Job Comes First motto. Elise had been. At first.

Then the hassle started. She just couldn’t let him be who he needed to be. She’d bought him ties and dressed him up for dinner. At first he’d used the demands of his job as an excuse to keep things light and fun between them. But somewhere along the line, an emotional bond had formed. And suddenly he’d been rearranging appointments to catch an afternoon quickie with Elise. He’d worn her damn ties.

He’d even swallowed his fears and ventured into a jewelry store. Just to look. There were a number of rings well within his budget that looked nice. That spoke commitment.

He’d walked out with something called a tennis bracelet instead. The next day he’d gone to surprise Elise at lunch. That was when she’d kissed that old friend. In front of him and God and the entire restaurant.

The bracelet was probably still wrapped up in the back of his closet somewhere.

Now Sean understood that his job was the only thing that had never let him down. So that’s where his loyalties lay. Women were for fun and nothing more—if they were agreeable. The Bureau was his full-time commitment. That way nobody got hurt.

But his lonesome body sure seemed to be paying the price for that self-imposed ideal.

He slowly opened his eyes, thinking his bitter memories had helped him conquer his body’s desire. But with his head angled as it was he was staring right at this woman’s breasts. Small, yes, but amazingly responsive. They rose and fell with each quick, deep breath she drew. His own chest expanded in a rhythmic response. Almost…nearly…not quite touching hers.

“What are you staring at?” The woman’s croaky whisper caressed his ears, but his focus had shifted to the subtle seep of color that washed up the swanlike arc of her neck and stained her cheeks.

Despite her boyish attire and eccentric housekeeping skills, she was a long, tall drink of purely female body. South of his belt buckle, he stirred in response again.

A sexy woman was the answer his body wanted to give. But his rational mind still had control. Barely. “How tall are you?”

The question came out of nowhere, from the uncontrolled depths of his subconscious mind.

Her gaze dropped to his chest. “Five-eleven.”

Then the subtle movement of her shoulders registered. She was hunching down, making herself shorter.

Suddenly, Sean had two fingers tucked beneath her softly jutting chin. “Don’t.”

He was lifting her up, tipping her chin up. He moved closer. She was an unexpected combination of creamy skin and steely strength. His fingertips sizzled at the contact. He wanted to sample a taste of that smooth, heated skin.

Her hands came up and splayed across his chest, halting him from coming any closer without pushing him back. It was too tender a touch to ignore, too hesitant a touch to justify the way his nerve endings jumped to greet the clutch of her fingertips. Her eyes had washed to a pale dove-gray, the rounded pupils big and black in their centers, as if she were drugged with the same hazy feeling that seemed to be clouding his own mind.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Judging by the hypnotic effect this woman’s body was having on his, he was charging his engines. He was giving vent to several months of unintended celibacy. He needed sex. Lots of it. He needed to get this fever she was igniting out of his system so he could do his job.

The idea in his mind became a living, breathing desire.

She wouldn’t.

He didn’t dare ask.

He had nothing to lose.

“Are you free this weekend?”

And then she did shove him. She retreated a step into her bedroom while Sean stumbled into the hallway.

Her rosy cheeks had blanched, but there was plenty of fervor left in her voice. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Mr. Maddox, but you can’t just come in here and take me apart with your eyes like that. Cassie stood you up, so you grab the next female who comes along? That’s the most insulting pickup routine I’ve ever—”

“Are you available?” He waved aside her rightful protest before she could lambaste him again. “I know, I know.” He moved into the foyer, away from the unspoken desire that had sparked between them. He needed to think clearly here. Think of the job. He glanced at his watch and swore. “I’m already late.”

Unless he drove straight through the night. He couldn’t risk any holdups with the airlines. But getting there in time did him no good unless he had an escort.

“Late for what?”

Bingo. Curiosity. She might have voiced a ladylike protest at his impromptu invitation, but she was interested. Despite her dating survival instincts, she was interested. Sean’s libidinous radar kicked in, backed up by his professional survival instincts. She might not want to admit it, but she was interested in him.

He slowly turned around and studied her again, from the smooth, flushed skin of her unadorned face down to… Good God, he had to stop looking at her legs. She wasn’t dressed in a particularly provocative fashion. But there was something about her. Something about the whole package of this Amazon that made him think his mission was still possible. That he hadn’t blown his entire weekend. That he hadn’t ruined this assignment. Yet.

She shifted nervously beneath his blatant perusal, crossing her arms at her waist, pushing the nubs of her breasts against the thin cotton of her shirt and creating twin points that tantalized him further.

“You’ll do.”

“I’ll do what?”

This sexy, Amazon temptress was more than Cassie’s odd, naive roommate. She might well be Sean’s salvation.

“Caitlin, isn’t it?”

“Yes?”

“Today’s my thirty-second birthday.”

She hesitated. “Happy birthday.”

He turned on what he could salvage of his charm. “How would you like to give me the best birthday present of my life?”

CAITLIN FELT INDIGNANT anger flush through her from head to toe with a bright rosy heat. “Birthday present? How ’bout I give you a punch in the face?”

How dare he? Either Cassie’s Dear John was a dangerous sex fiend or he was making fun of her.

“What?” A look of stunned surprise filled his dark green eyes an instant before an answering blush crept up his neck. Then those same eyes narrowed in an angry squint as he waved aside her prickly pride. “That wasn’t a proposition. Not that kind, at any rate. But I do have a business proposition for you.”

She arched one eyebrow in doubt. “Is it any better than your last line?” She watched as he pushed up the tweed sleeve of his jacket and looked at his watch. “And quit checking the time. It’s rude. If you have to go somewhere, go. I’m not stopping you.”

Caitlin stiffened in cautious anticipation as his expressive face grew still. One second he was antsy, the next completely calm. Spooky. Cool in a Terminator kind of way, but spooky.

“I don’t have time to do this nice and subtle,” he announced. He pulled back the front of his coat and reached inside. “I’ll make it quick.”

That endless expanse of taut white T-shirt gave way to a band of black leather that curved over his shoulder and hung down beneath his arm. A holster, with a gun. A big, black, deadly looking gun. Make this quick?

“Oh my God.” Caitlin jumped back a step. Mr. Terminator was reaching for his gun! “Don’t shoot me!”

She reached for the nearest thing that looked like protection and came up with the nozzle on the vacuum cleaner. She held it in front of her in both hands like a weapon.

Sean froze. He looked at the nozzle. He looked at Caitlin. He looked down to where his hand hovered beside the holster. Then he looked at her again, studying her frightened expression with a cockeyed squint that indicated he thought she was the crazy person here.

Their gazes held for about two seconds, just long enough for her courage to waver. Then he was moving again. All-business. He pulled a leather wallet from an inside jacket pocket. “Don’t worry, McCormick. I guess I should have used a little more finesse in my invitation. But I’m afraid smooth moves just aren’t my style.” He inclined his head toward the nozzle she wielded in her hand. “If it’s any consolation, neither is shooting a woman who could suck my brains out.”

Suck? Caitlin’s heart tripped an extra beat. A raw rush of heat and pressure pounded between her legs and left her lightheaded. Sex? This guy wanted her to…? Her gaze flew to his crotch. She’d never. She wanted. She wouldn’t. “How dare you!”

“Here.” He flipped open his wallet. Inside she saw an official-looking ID and a polished brass badge. Uh-oh. “I’m Special Agent Sean Maddox, ma’am. I’m with the FBI.”

The nervous excitement that had pounded through her body flooded her neck and face with embarrassment. Sucking. The vacuum. He’d been talking about the vacuum. Of course. Idiot.

“FBI?”

Ignoring the aftershocks of sexual frustration and indignation that were slow to die, she gathered her wits and took the wallet in a tentative grasp. She studied it a few moments. The picture matched. He hadn’t been smiling when this ID photo was taken, either. U.S. Department of Justice. Federal Bureau of Investigation. Sean Michael Maddox. DOB 05/29/71.

“It is your birthday,” she murmured out loud, but read on. New England Bureau Administrative Chief. Though the tension eased from her posture, suspicion quickly took its place.

She handed back the wallet. “Your ID says ‘Administrative Chief’, not ‘special agent.’ And Virginia’s a little out of your New England territory. Either you’re a liar or that’s fake.”

“I assure you, my work with the FBI is very real.” He returned the wallet to his pocket, making a dramatic effort to show her that he wasn’t going anywhere near his gun. “What I’m about to tell you can’t go beyond this apartment, Miss McCormick.”

Oh God. That sounded serious. Dangerous. His warning, articulated with just the barest indication of a foreign accent, sounded like a line right out of a James Bond movie.

Interesting.

The aftershocks of emotion inside her gained momentum.

“You mean it’s a secret?”

“Top secret.”

Despite her distrust of Agent Maddox or Chief Maddox or whoever the hell this distracting hulk of male animal was, the right side of her brain kicked in, pushing logic and protestations aside. He was about to share a government secret with her. Caitlin breathed in deeply, giving her brain plenty of oxygen to fuel her imagination. She was about to become privy to some real cloak-and-dagger information.

“Is Cassie in trouble with the FBI?” she asked.

“No. But she was going to help me with a time-sensitive case. A mutual friend gave me her name. She was going to provide my cover this weekend while I conducted an undercover investigation.” He paused to read Caitlin’s reaction, then continued without comment. “Since she’s unavailable, I’m asking you to take her place. I need you to be my mistress so I can gain access to an exclusive couples-only resort.”

This man was asking her to take part in an investigation? To travel? To serve her country? To assume a secret role? To be a man’s mistress?

Her father would have a cow.

“Me?”

“You.”

She glanced down at her brother Travis’s USMC T-shirt and the cutoff jeans she wore. She glanced at the vacuum nozzle she still held like a defensive weapon between them.

When she lifted her gaze back to his, his calm green eyes revealed nothing but the fact that his offer was serious. “You want me to be your mistress this weekend?”

He swiped a hand across his jaw and raised his eyes to the ceiling. Caitlin could only guess what this show of patience was costing him.

When he nailed her with those amazingly green eyes—no blue or gray to corrupt their mossy hue—she saw he was all-business again. “I need you to pretend to be my mistress. Pretend,” he emphasized. “Pleasure Cove Island is a haven for rich and powerful couples to get away for the weekend without any public scrutiny. No press. No phone lines. The Bureau has given me a fake background. As a Bureau chief, I have the clout to warrant an invitation. But I can’t very well go to a couples-only resort by myself without raising suspicion, and that’s the last thing I want to do. I need to find answers, and I need to find them quickly.”

“Answers to what?”

“Dammit, lady, I don’t have time to answer all your questions.” His patience snapped and he stalked down the hall to the front door. He had it open and was halfway out when he braced his hand against the open frame and stopped. His broad back rippled with a powerful shrug, and Caitlin realized the width and strength of him was all-man, and not due to the cut of the sport coat.

She held her own breath as she listened to his lungs fill and empty with cleansing breaths of air. When he finally turned around to face her, the anger was gone. But he still wasn’t smiling.

“I can’t give you all the details,” he explained. “Suffice it to say two former guests of Pleasure Cove Island have met with…unfortunate circumstances. One just resigned at the peak of a public career. The other is dead.”

“Dead?” Could the man sound any more detached from his feelings? Caitlin scooped her hair back from her temples. The more Sean Maddox talked, the more convincing his story became. She was already physically attracted to him. He gave the beast of her sexual fantasies a compelling, if not quite handsome, face.

His request for her help played into every escapist fantasy she’d ever had while trying to spice up her humdrum life. But now he was sounding as if this assignment was real. That the need for her help was real.

What should she do? What would her father do? He’d take action. If there was a problem, he’d do something about it, and deal with the consequences later. Her brothers had the same take-charge mindset. But all three would tell her to stay home. To stay safe. Think of your health. Think of your reputation. They’d tell her to take care of herself, while they tackled the problem for her.

But her father and brothers couldn’t help Agent Maddox with this problem. They weren’t women. They weren’t available.

They weren’t here. Now.

A small spark of determination lit inside her. Like a fuse traveling toward its explosive destination, it fired along her nerve endings, heating her blood and giving strength to an idea.

“Would this weekend be dangerous?” She hugged the vacuum hose to her chest, half-afraid of giving in to the burning desire that was slowly consuming her. “You said someone died.”

“Not on the island itself. He was murdered in his hotel room after returning from the island. This is strictly an information-gathering mission. Otherwise, the Bureau wouldn’t consider civilian involvement. There may be some risk involved, I suppose—the movers and shakers of the world don’t like to be deceived.”

“No one does.” Her terse reply was both an agreement and a challenge for him to be completely honest.

Sean released his grip on the door and stepped back inside. Even though it brought him only a few inches closer Caitlin felt the power of his vow reaching out and touching her as he said, “I promise, if things do turn dangerous, I’ll give you all the protection I can. And I’ll get you out of there as soon as humanly possible.”

Caitlin imagined that his protection would be a serious force to be reckoned with. The idea that this Terminator would put his life on the line for hers was at once reassuring and…stimulating. Her father and brothers served their country and protected its citizens with equal fervor. Why couldn’t she?

And pretending to be his mistress? Let’s see. What was the downside of having an extraordinarily powerful and sexy man acting like her lover? If the other guests could buy the fact that Sean Maddox wanted to be with her, it wouldn’t be the worst way to spend a weekend.

Sexy man.

Vacation resort.

Serving her country.

Living out a lifelong fantasy.

Hmm. Downside?

She was back to her father having that cow.

But he was still on his boat in Chesapeake Bay. Ethan was in Washington, D.C., Travis in North Carolina. They couldn’t fret or dictate when they didn’t know something was going on.

“You said this was top secret. Does that mean I can’t tell anyone where I’m going or what I’m doing? Not even my family?”

“Not a soul.”

Dad and Ethan and Travis would never know what sweet little Caitlin was up to.

Caitlin was tempted. Oh, Lordy, she was tempted. But how could she be sure this wasn’t really just some sick way to pick up women? Could she trust Cassie’s judgment about the man? Her roommate had been willing to go. Until a better offer came along.

But this was likely to be the best—most exciting—offer Caitlin was ever going to get.

“Listen, I know you don’t know if you can trust me. But you’ve got about two seconds to make a decision. Maine is a long way from here.” Sean shifted uncomfortably on his feet, the first real sign of any emotion beyond anger and impatience. “I don’t ask for favors from many people, Miss McCormick, because I don’t like to be disappointed. But I’m asking you to help me now. For your country.”

“I’m the only one who can help?” He didn’t answer her. But the steely set of his jaw told her he hadn’t found it easy to ask for her assistance. Caitlin finally set down the vacuum hose.

He expected her to be one of those people who disappointed him.

He expected her to say no.

She decided to act strictly on impulse. It was a liberating feeling. She didn’t know if it was the McCormick in her—ready to do her patriotic duty—or the good girl in her, anxious to please those around her. Maybe it was the dreamer who had waited far too long to crash out of her sheltered life and have a real adventure.

It might even have been her woman’s heart deciding. The heart that wanted to rekindle Sean Maddox’s faith in the world.

“I’ll go with you on two conditions, Agent Maddox.”

He rolled his shoulders back, giving the false appearance that he was relaxing his stance. His eyes still refused to show hope. “What are they?”

“That my father never finds out where I am this weekend.” She shrugged, hoping she wouldn’t regret this impulse, hoping Agent Maddox wouldn’t regret it, either. “And that we stop by a post office somewhere on the way to Maine so I can mail my rent check.”

“Done.” Caitlin barely had time to grab the rent envelope and her purse before he pulled her out the door.

4

“SORRY WE COULDN’T TAKE more time, but we’ll be driving straight through the night as it is just to make the ferry connection tomorrow evening at five.” As Sean spoke, he steered his car down the D.C. exit out of Alexandria, Virginia, and pulled into the northeast flow of traffic on the interstate.

While he wasn’t ready to admit that his luck with women had changed, his mood, at least, had improved. He had a date. It had been a long time since he’d had a date, and even though this one was on behalf of the government, he was glad to know he could still get a woman to say yes to his rusty charms.

Even if it was a woman as unpredictable as Caitlin McCormick.

According to Thomas’s documentation in the little black book, Cassie was pretty much a known quantity. She’d do some flirting. Indulge in friendly chatter. She wouldn’t be afraid of a few public displays of affection.

But Caitlin was an unknown factor. For some reason she’d said yes to his outlandish invitation. She was either a real patriot or a woman who took foolish chances. He’d like to think she was the former. He could appreciate that kind of dedication to a cause.

But she might be just plain crazy. After all, she talked to furniture and threatened men with vacuum cleaners.

Maybe it was a good thing he’d chosen to drive to Maine and avoid the security checks and flight delays of air travel. He’d need the extended time together to get to know her and establish a predictable working relationship with her.

“You doing okay back there?” he asked.

Sean peeked into his rearview mirror and saw the reflection of one long female leg thrust up into the air from his back seat. The leg was long and tanned and showed off sleek curves of muscle along the calf and thigh. He was definitely enjoying this part of the getting-to-know-each-other process.

The leather interior of his Porsche 911 Targa had never been used as a dressing room before, but the idea took on a definite appeal when a second leg—equally long and curved and perfect—thrust up into the air beside the first one moments before a swatch of denim swept over them. Sean squashed down his body’s responding tension and turned his focus back to the road.

She was only a couple years older than his sister. A kid in comparison to his lifetime of experience. If Sabrina had agreed to gallivant halfway across the country with a stranger she’d just met—even if he did flash a badge—Sean would have her hide. Correction. He’d have the bastard’s hide.

Caitlin had hinted at having an overprotective father so, as an overprotective brother, he should be able to relate. He definitely wasn’t having brotherly thoughts right now, though.

Caitlin’s breathless voice came from behind him in the back seat. “I’m fine. I appreciate you running across to that discount store and buying me a dress while I was in the post office. I can’t very well show up at a posh resort in my cutoffs.” She grunted as she struggled with some piece of clothing. “What do I owe you for it?”

“Not a thing. The Bureau is paying for everything this weekend.” Sean’s gaze slid back to the mirror. She wasn’t making it easy to concentrate on good intentions. Her long-limbed build made it a struggle to change from her shorts into the black sundress he’d bought for her.

But it was an entertaining struggle to watch. With the car on cruise control, he tilted his head to get a better view down into the seat behind him. Caitlin was lying across the leather upholstery, scrunched down out of sight of passing motorists. She’d stripped down to her underwear, demure triangles of pink cotton that covered interesting places without really hiding them. Her small, pert nipples strained against the pink cloth as she pulled the dress over her head and shimmied it down the length of her body. Before she got things into place, he noted a wisp of darker gold hair peeking from beneath the cotton at the juncture of her thighs.

Innocent as her movements were, his body reacted as if the actions were part of a calculated seduction. In the close confines of the car, the earthy smell of the leather combined with the enticingly fresh scent of Caitlin herself. It was an erotic male-female stimulation of the senses that only intensified his imagination. He subtly tugged on the denim at his crotch and adjusted his position behind the wheel to ease the growing tightness in his groin. He could picture himself in the back seat with her, with those legs of hers high in the air and him in between them.