Covert Makeover

The tape showed Botero’s white limousine pulling up behind a late model sedan in front of Weddings Your Way. Johnson, dressed in chauffeur livery and obviously not happy about it, opened the rear door for Sonya, who, with her usual exuberant energy, bounced out smiling.

Then, a black limo had pulled up behind Botero’s and two men dressed in dark suits leaped out and grabbed Sonya. Johnson reacted immediately, but one of the men coldcocked him.

A well-built young man ran into the frame, straight toward the limo, but the black car had veered and jumped the curb, heading straight for Johnson.

Johnson rolled to one side, out of the frame of the camera as the limo barreled forward and hit a young woman. Sean now knew that the young woman was Caroline Graham and the man who’d rushed the limo was her brother, Alex.

At no time did either of the kidnappers show his face to the camera. It was as if they knew exactly where the blind spots were.

He eyed the state-of-the-art piece of equipment. It was the same brand he’d just purchased for Carlos’s estate. Cocking an eyebrow at the lens, he reached for the door handle. Weddings Your Way must be more successful than he realized.

He knew from his own wedding that they were expensive. But that kind of twenty-four-hour security cost more than his apartment rent for a year. Rachel Brennan had upgraded since the kidnapping. Too late for Sonya and Johnson, but smart.

Walking into the elegant reception area of Weddings Your Way was like walking onto the set of a famous Thirties-era movie. A young woman seated behind a delicately carved table greeted him.

“Good morning, sir. Welcome to Weddings Your Way. How may we assist you?”

“Rachel Brennan, please.”

The pretty young woman quickly surveyed him, taking in his custom-fitted summer suit and the state of his fingernails and hair.

“Sean Majors, Carlos Botero’s chief of security.” He handed her his card.

“Oh, of course Mr. Majors.” Her cheeks turned faintly pink. “Ms. Brennan is not available. Could I direct you to—” she glanced quickly at a desk calendar “—Ms. Brooks?”

Sean took in the large main salon of Weddings Your Way. Brooks. Which one was she?

To the right of the marble staircase, beyond the display of wedding gowns and veils, in a cozy alcove, a tall blonde dressed in black and white with black stockings encasing her long, shapely legs smiled at a petite redhead in bright pink sitting across from her.

As he watched, the two women stood.

Oh, yeah. The blonde with the legs was Sophie Brooks. How could he forget those legs? The sleek, sheer black stockings were an endangered species in Miami any time of year. They were extinct during the summer.

As the bride-to-be turned toward the door and the blonde sat and recrossed her legs, Sean admired the long expanse of thigh that was revealed below the short, tight skirt.

“Mr. Majors, I’ll let Ms. Brooks know—”

He waved his hand. “I see her.”

As he passed the redhead, she smiled pertly at him. He nodded without taking his eyes off Sophie Brooks.

Her straight blond hair hid her face as she wrote something in a leather notebook, then typed a few sentences into a small laptop that sat open on her desk.

Her phone buzzed as he approached. She answered it, listened for an instant, then slid her gaze up his body, giving her head a little toss as she met his eyes. “No, that’s fine. I’ll take him.”

Sean smiled.

She frowned, set the phone down and stood.

He heard the swish of ultrasheer nylon and to his surprise, his body reacted.

Damn. What the hell was wrong with him? He was working, and nothing interfered with his job. Certainly not a beautiful woman. Miami was filled with beautiful women. Besides, he had absolutely no interest in women right now, beautiful or otherwise. He had his job and his daughter. He didn’t need anything else.

But, oh, those silk-clad forever legs.

With a great deal of effort, he managed to keep his eyes on her face.

She smoothed her hands down her skirt and swallowed, her eyelids flickering. Did she sense the battle that was raging inside him?

Knock it off, Majors. His jaw tightened. He was here for one purpose. He had to let Rachel Brennan know about the second ransom note.

“Ms. Brooks?”

“I’m Sophie Brooks,” she said, holding out her hand.

He took it briefly. Her fingers were cool, which didn’t surprise him. He’d have been surprised if they’d been warm. She was the epitome of cool. Her demeanor was smooth, sophisticated, unflappable, except for that tiny movement of her throat when he’d met her gaze.

“Please sit,” she said.

He gestured. “After you.” Cursing at himself for his weakness, he stole one last glimpse of her crossing those legs.

She moved an album of wedding invitations from the small table in front of her.

“I need to speak to Rachel Brennan,” he said, eyeing the pink slipper chair, then sitting carefully on the edge of it and propping his elbows on his knees.

“Ms. Brennan isn’t here. Can I do something for you, Mr. Majors?”

“That depends. Are you familiar with the Botero kidnapping?”

Sophie Brooks’s gaze snapped to his, the clear blue of her eyes suddenly turning opaque. He could have sworn something inside her shut down.

She fiddled with the pen she held, then pulled a notepad toward her and began drawing swirling circles and loops on it.

“Yes, of course. An awful thing to have happen right outside our doors,” she commented, her eyes on the paper.

Doodling. Sean exhaled shortly. “Right. Not to mention how bad it must be for Sonya and her father and the people who were injured,” he said dryly.

For a second there, she’d reminded him of his ex-wife, self-absorbed and heartless. But he supposed he was giving the woman too much credit, expecting her to be concerned about someone she may have never even met. She was an employee of a fancy wedding planning salon. It was natural that her biggest concern would be for the reputation of the salon.

But she’d heard the censure in his voice, because her pen stilled and she compressed her lips. “Certainly. I heard your security guard regained consciousness. How is he?”

And he heard the faint hint of disapproval in hers, as if the kidnapping were Johnson’s fault and, by association, his. “They’re running tests. I’ll see him this afternoon.”

Her lashes lowered for an instant. “Yes, I understand you’ve gotten his physician to order no visitors until after you’ve talked with him.”

More disapproval.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Majors?”

Sean assessed her. She appeared to be in complete control—poised, her legs crossed, her back straight. Maybe too straight. She seemed ill at ease. “You design the invitations for Weddings Your Way, right?”

Her throat moved and she blinked.

She was thrown off by his sudden change of subject. Sean made it his business to assess the people he came in contact with. It came in handy. Those tiny reactions told him Sophie Brooks wasn’t a hundred percent unflappable.

“Yes,” she said evenly. “I help the bride choose the perfect invitation to introduce the most important event in a young woman’s life.” She paused. “Is that relevant?”

“We’ve actually met before. You designed the invitations for my wedding.”

Sophie did her best not to react. So that’s why he looked so familiar. She knew she’d seen him before. She’d caught a glimpse of him on the day of Sonya’s kidnapping, felt the sense of déjà vu, and thought perhaps his even, rugged features reminded her of a movie star. In the chaos of the tragedy, she’d forgotten about him.

But now she remembered vividly—his athletic, loose-limbed grace, his broad shoulders and lean hips subtly set off by his tailored suit, his nearly perfect features. His wedding to a blond debutante four years ago had been her first assignment for Weddings Your Way.

“Of course.” She held his gaze. No way was she going to admit she remembered him after that long. In truth, his odd teal-colored eyes had fascinated her, as had his harsh, handsome face and his confident sexuality. She also recalled how much in love he’d been. She smiled. “How is your wife?”

His eyes changed then, from soft teal blue to the dark shadows of a storm cloud. “I have no idea,” he said flatly.

Before she could stop herself, she glanced down at his left hand. No ring. Not even a tan line. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It wasn’t because of the invitations.” His lips smiled wryly. His eyes didn’t.

Sophie sent him a small sad smile. “Nevertheless—”

“When will Ms. Brennan be back?”

Back to business. Sophie watched as he deliberately refocused on his reason for being here. He tensed and subtly arched his shoulders, then glanced at his watch, a shadow of worry flickering across his face.

Something had happened. Her intuition, honed by her years with the CIA, kicked in. She tensed.

“It could be quite a while. I assure you, I am authorized to act on her behalf in any matter.”

He nodded, and his hand moved toward his jacket pocket. In a calculatedly casual move, he checked it and rested it on his thigh, instead.

But Sophie noticed. She spotted the corner of a plastic bag skirting the top edge of the gray silk pocket. They’d received a note. She leaned forward. “Mr. Botero has heard from the kidnappers again, hasn’t he?”

Sean Majors glanced down at the unbuttoned top of her blouse. His gaze brushed the shadowed area between her breasts like a caress. They tightened in response, and awareness drifted across her skin like the faint touch of fingertips.

His gaze slid up to hers. After a couple of seconds, he looked beyond her. He could have been just looking out the window behind her at the luxurious pool area, but Sophie knew he wasn’t. He was making a decision—a decision whether to trust her.

He blinked and leveled his gaze on her again. “Yes.”

Sophie’s heart slammed against her chest.

A break at last. She smoothed her skirt and reminded herself that to him she was just a graphics designer at an upscale wedding-planning business. Still, she was in charge while Rachel was gone. She had an obligation to get all the information she could.

“And you’re here because Mr. Botero doesn’t want the police involved.”

“That’s right. Mr. Botero has cooperated up to a point. But he refuses to allow them inside his estate. He doesn’t want them to know he’s heard from the kidnappers. I don’t like operating without their knowledge.”

“We’re willing to cooperate in any way,” Sophie said quickly. She couldn’t tell him that Rachel, as head of the Confidential Agency, was already working closely with the police commissioner to keep law enforcement and media attention off the Botero kidnapping.

“As I’m sure you know, we’ve been waiting to hear about the date and time for the drop,” she said.

“And your security team is ready?”

“Of course.” He assessed her narrowly. She knew what he was thinking. He was Botero’s chief of security. He knew all about coordinating surveillance and protection. He also knew all about cooperation with authorities. Luckily so far, he’d barely dealt with the Confidential team directly, and then it had been mostly through Rachel. Sophie knew Rachel had revealed nothing about the true purpose of Weddings Your Way.

He dropped his gaze to her fingers. Aware that she was still doodling, as she did when she was nervous or concentrating, she smoothly covered the paper with her forearm without looking at it.

“So, Mr. Majors, what can Weddings Your Way do for you?”

“I need copies of all your surveillance tapes from the day of the kidnapping. I’d like to interview everyone Sonya spoke with that day. I want to review all the statements from all your employees.”

“The police have all that.”

He waited.

“All right. Ms. Brennan has copies of everything.” Sophie picked up the phone and dialed Samantha’s extension. “Samantha, have you got an extra set of copies of everything related to the Botero case—to Sonya’s kidnapping?”

“Everything?” Samantha’s amused voice said in her ear. “I caught a glimpse of Botero’s gorgeous security chief. Lucky you, in charge today. You surely don’t mean he’s sweet-talked you into giving him everything?”

Sophie gripped the phone more tightly and avoided the gorgeous security chief’s gaze as her face grew warm. “All the information we provided to the police,” she said evenly. She’d never quite picked up the knack the close-knit team had of kidding around, especially in the middle of a serious situation. Her background hadn’t been conducive to gentle teasing.

“Ah, okay. Give me twenty minutes. So the unflappable Sophie Brooks didn’t fall under the handsome prince’s spell.”

“No, of course not. Nothing like that.” She disconnected, feeling her cheeks turn warm. Silently and fluently, she cursed Samantha for teasing her.

She gave Sean a stiff smile. “We can have that information for you in about twenty minutes. In the meantime, if you’d like, you can talk to our receptionist about arranging to speak with the employees who were here that morning. Or would you prefer to see our chief of security, Rafe Montoya? He’s not here right now.” He’d gone with Rachel to see the commissioner. “He should be back this afternoon.”

Sean glanced at his watch again.

He didn’t have much time. Sophie couldn’t stand it any longer. She had to know about the note.

“The kidnappers gave you a deadline, didn’t they? When is the drop? What did the note say? How was it delivered?” Sophie stopped as Majors’s brows drew together in a frown and his gaze sharpened.

She backpedaled. “I mean, is Sonya safe? Did the note say anything about her?” She sat back and forced herself to calm down. Sean Majors had no idea she was a former CIA agent. Her job, and her biggest challenge, was to stay in character. As far as Sean Majors was concerned, she was an employee of Weddings Your Way. Nothing more.

Sean didn’t speak.

“Mr. Majors, I assure you that I am authorized to act in full capacity in Ms. Brennan’s absence. If you like, I could give her your cell phone number so you can verify it with her.”

His face smoothed out a bit as he shook his head. “There was no specific mention of Sonya. But they gave instructions about the money, and said they’d be in touch very soon.”

“May I see the note?” She looked at his pocket.

As he pulled out the plastic bag and laid it in front of her, she was momentarily distracted by his hands. They were large and tanned, with long, well-shaped fingers. Good hands. Competent hands.

She forced her attention on to the note, reading it quickly. “Two hours!”

“Right. Not much time. We’re going to have to be ready to move.”

She held the note up to the light, drawing a curious glance from him. “No watermark,” she commented, then gave a small false shrug. “I’m a graphic designer. Mr. Majors, may we keep this?”

“What reason could you possibly have to want the note?”

“Ms. Brennan will want to see it,” Sophie said quickly. “She feels responsible for Sonya Botero’s kidnapping. Maybe a copy?”

Majors sent her a suspicious glance. “How can I be assured it won’t end up in the hands of the police?”

“As I said, I can have Ms. Brennan speak to you personally.”

He shook his head. “One copy, without removing it from the plastic bag.”

“Of course. I’ll do it myself if you’d like to observe.”

He stood, adjusting his cuffs, and picked up the note. He was not going to let it out of his sight for an instant.

Sophie stood as well. “Follow me.” She walked quickly up the stairs, her high heels clicking on the marble. Majors walked slightly behind her and she imagined his gaze burning into her back, her behind, her legs. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Disturbing. And yet slightly arousing. Suppressing the urge to slow down and force him into step beside her, she sped up, reaching the second floor and heading straight for the copy machine.

As he watched her like a hawk, she made one photocopy. He reached around her and cleared the machine, then inspected the copy.

“Your confidence in us is underwhelming.”

He didn’t look up. “This is my boss’s only daughter. My loyalty is to him.”

“True. I apologize.”

He didn’t acknowledge her words, just handed her the photocopy and retrieved the original note, tucking it back in his inside jacket pocket. Then he stepped aside to let her precede him down the stairs.

Sophie faced him at the bottom. “Where do you think they’ll want to meet for the drop?”

“Who knows. They don’t seem to be concerned about being seen in daylight, but they’ll want an open space.”

“Do it here.”

Sean lifted his chin slightly, staring at her as if she’d just confessed.

She’d come on too strong. But she was getting the definite impression he wanted to handle this alone. And she couldn’t let that happen. Sonya Botero had been kidnapped right under the nose of Rachel Brennan’s Miami Confidential team. Rachel was absolutely determined to get Sonya back, and Sophie and the rest of the team felt the same way. It had happened on their watch. It was their responsibility.

“It’s the perfect place,” she said quickly. “Sonya was kidnapped here. That means the kidnappers know the area intimately. We can arrange the drop in the circular drive out front. Cancel all appointments for the time frame to ensure that no one is around. It’s relatively isolated, yet out in the open. It would make sense.”

Sean cocked one brow. “You seem to have all the bases covered. Have you been thinking about this a lot?”

His remark gave her pause. Actually, the thought of using Weddings Your Way for the ransom drop had just occurred to her. “I watch a lot of TV. But it does make sense, doesn’t it?”

“Assuming the kidnappers are generous enough to let us make that decision, which I doubt will happen. Isn’t this Montoya’s territory?”

“Yes, but he and Ms. Brennan are out all morning. That means it could be hours before you could talk with them about arrangements. That’s time wasted.”

“Who do you suggest to make the drop?”

Sophie took a deep breath. “Me. I work here. I’m sure the kidnappers know all the employees of Weddings Your Way. They would have cased us pretty thoroughly before they planned the kidnapping.”

“Cased you?”

“Sorry.” Sophie smoothed her skirt and looked down. “Like I said, I guess I watch too many cop shows.”

“You think?”

She frowned at his sarcastic remark and the storm clouds still darkening his eyes. She challenged him. “You think I can’t handle it.”

“I’m sure you can. All you’d have to do is walk a few steps and set down a suitcase. My question is why do you want to?”

His voice was harsh, suspicious. He obviously suspected that she had an ulterior motive. Surely he didn’t think she was in on the kidnapping?

She couldn’t tell him the truth. That as a Miami Confidential agent, she had an obligation to make sure no one else was hurt. If anything happened during the drop, her CIA training ensured that she’d be prepared. She knew how to take care of herself.

Sean crossed his arms, waiting for her answer.

Smiling slyly, she leaned forward again, making sure her shirt gaped artfully. She was rewarded when his gaze flickered downward.

“I love the danger. It’s a turn-on.”

Chapter Two

It’s a turn-on.

For an instant, her words hung between them. Neither of them moved.

Then Sean Majors’s eyes darkened and his knuckles whitened against the dark gray of his jacket.

Sophie took a deep breath, willing her face not to express the embarrassment she felt. Her ploy hadn’t worked. She never should have tried flirting. Lord knew, she was no good at it.

He uncrossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders, adjusting his jacket as he took a step backward. The set of his strong straight mouth telegraphed his disapproval of her and her suggestion.

She hated this posturing. Hated the idea that she had to resort to such tactics to keep Weddings Your Way’s true identity a secret. But she’d started it and now she had to finish. She had to ensure that Confidential was involved in the ransom drop.

“You must feel the same way.” She stepped forward, letting her gaze drift down to his chest, where a shoulder holster strap showed beneath his jacket. She ran the tip of one fingernail along the edge of the strap, then she met his gaze again and smiled.

“Why else would you be in a job where you carry a gun?”

Sean’s mouth compressed into a thin line and his eyes turned black. “My job is to protect. It doesn’t turn me on.”

His tone chilled her. Still, at least she’d accomplished her purpose. He thought she was a bimbo who had no better sense than to think dealing with kidnappers was a chance for excitement.

Cringing at the censure and contempt in his gaze, Sophie desperately hung on to her false smile.

He buttoned his coat. He was done here.

“All right, Ms. Brooks,” he said finally. “Your idea is actually not too bad. It’s simple and yet unexpected. So if the kidnappers and Montoya agree, you can have your excitement. But don’t forget for one moment that this is deadly serious. One wrong move and you could be killed.”

He paused, but she didn’t take the bait. She just nodded.

“Remember, we have to be ready within two hours. When the kidnappers contact us again, I’ll let Ms. Brennan know immediately.”

Sophie didn’t realize she’d wiped her palms down her sides until his gaze slid along the buttons of her white silk blouse, over the snug waistband of her skirt, down to the hem and farther. His frown stayed in place, and his entire body exuded disapproval.

She swallowed, suffering his assessment. Probably wondering how fast she could run if something went wrong with the ransom drop.

“Tell Rachel Brennan to call me.”

“Of course. Does she have your number?”

He flipped out a card.

Sophie took it.

He nodded and turned toward the door.

She felt a little dirty, and it surprised her how much it bothered her that he actually believed she’d participate in a ransom drop for kicks.

As she watched him walk away, his grace and self-assurance obvious in his sleek movements, she reviewed his change in attitude toward her. He’d started out neutral, with a little bit of masculine appreciation for her appearance. Now though, he apparently thought she was lower than pond scum.

Odd that it mattered so much what he thought. She didn’t even know him.

As she sat back down at her desk, she looked at her notepad. She’d sketched him.

Had he seen it? The sketch was small, but accurate. She turned on her desk lamp to look at it more closely. She’d caught the storms that had gathered in his eyes when he’d spoken of his failed marriage. Looking at the sketch, she noticed there was a subtle difference in how he’d looked then and how he’d looked when she’d been pretending to be a bimbo.

The eyes in her sketch looked sad. Before he left, the sadness had been replaced by distaste.

She held the sketch closer to the light, studying the hint of sadness she’d caught. Did he still love his wife?

Shaking off the question, which was none of her business, she picked up her phone to tell Vicki to cooperate with him in arranging meetings with the staff.

Then she tried to go back to work on her latest assignment, but her curiosity got the better of her. She accessed the archived designs on her laptop. There it was. The Majors/DuVall wedding. Their snow-white invitation had featured two gold-embossed hearts linked together.

She glanced across the salon at him as he spoke with Vicki, then back at her notepad. Pen in hand, she drew two identical hearts, one broken. She swallowed and scratched out the image.