Perhaps he wasn’t as immune to her as she thought.
“Permission to come aboard?” she asked.
When he didn’t immediately respond, she stepped off the dock. Before she could climb aboard, however, his hands were suddenly spanning her waist. He lifted her easily, swinging her off the dock and letting her body slowly slide against the hard muscles of his torso before gently placing her into the boat. She sucked in a ragged breath. It was either that or faint. She might never know for sure if his kisses still affected her, but judging by the heat pooling in her belly, it was a safe bet they would do more than just make her knees weak.
The moment stretched. His fingers lingered at her waist. The deck rocked lazily from side to side. Neither one of them seemed in a hurry to move. Instead, they stood there for several long heartbeats just letting the evening breeze wash over them.
It was magical.
Right up until he ruined it by speaking.
“What kind of game are you playing?” he demanded, his warm breath fanning her ear.
Somehow, her hands had found their way to his shoulders. She quickly dragged them to her sides. He wasn’t as quick to release her, giving her body a little shake when he finally did so.
“I’m not playing anything,” she lied. “I told you why I came.”
Quinn wasn’t proud of the role she’d been forced to play. She’d often lied and cheated to accomplish her mission. But that was so good could prevail over evil. Somehow, lying to Ben made her feel cheap and deceitful.
“Then let’s get this over with,” he said. “Tell me what I need to say so you can feel better about things and move on to happily ever after with your Russian boyfriend.”
His accusation caught her off guard. “Russian boyfriend?” she sputtered. “Alexi is not my boyfriend.”
He shoved his sunglasses on top of his head and studied her quizzically with those solemn hazel eyes of his. The look of astonishment she’d seen at the White House the night before had been replaced with a look of vexation. Something stirred within her. Suddenly, she desperately needed him to believe her on this particular truth.
“Alexi likes women as arm candy,” she explained softly. “But he prefers men for everything else.”
“Huh.” He took a step back. “That doesn’t come up when you google the guy.”
“You googled him? Why?”
He slipped his sunglasses back over his eyes. “Because I was curious about what you saw in him.”
A warm glow spread over her cheeks. He did still care. The thought both thrilled and terrified her. She needed to keep him safe.
She needed to keep everyone safe.
“So, then, what are you to him?” he asked.
“I take photos of his properties and sell them to magazines,” she replied, glad she could be honest about at least one part of her life. “I’m a professional photographer.”
“Who’s a professional photographer?” a female voice called from the dock beside the Seas the Day.
She looked over to see a stunning, dark-haired woman climbing aboard. A tall, military-looking man followed her. Quinn immediately recognized the couple from the cover of tabloid magazines. The woman was the exotic half-sister of the First Lady. And the man accompanying her was her Secret Service agent fiancé. That explained his presence at the White House last night. Ben might be a run-of-the-mill computer analyst within the Secret Service, but he ran with some impressive friends.
Ben grabbed the woman’s hand when she teetered on her ridiculously high heels and guided her to one of the bench seats.
“Stilettos, Josslyn. Really?”
“I have to wear them to have any hope of reaching Adam’s chin much less his lips,” she quipped. “Now what’s this about a photographer? Because I’ve been interviewing them all week and I still don’t have one for our wedding.”
“I told you, Joss, we can just use one of the White House photographers,” Adam said. “And if you want to reach my lips, just tell me. I can work something out.”
Josslyn tsked. “I don’t want a portraitist to chronicle our wedding. I want an artist.”
“Please excuse her.” Adam winked at Quinn. “She’s still peevish because the president nixed holding the ceremony on the Serengeti.”
“And I’m peevish because this was a private conversation,” Ben announced. “I thought we were meeting at the restaurant?”
“Bennett.” Josslyn donned a cat-ate-the-canary grin. “I have very fond memories of this boat. You know that.”
Quinn wasn’t sure but she thought Adam might be blushing. For his part, Ben simply groaned.
“Besides,” the other woman continued. “We saw you here and we wanted to meet your friend.”
She smiled expectantly in Quinn’s direction.
Ben sighed. “You would have met her at dinner if you’d been even a little patient.”
“She’s joining us for dinner? Awesome.”
“I’m joining you for dinner?” Quinn asked at the same time.
Adam chuckled loudly. “Wow, Ben. We need to work on your dating skills.” He turned to Quinn. “You have to excuse him, most of his dates take place in virtual reality.”
“Hey!” Ben shoved his friend in the shoulder.
It was Quinn’s turn to smile. She extended her hand. “Since I have the advantage of knowing who you are, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Quinn Darby. Pleased to meet you.”
Josslyn’s gray eyes went wide. “You’re Quinn Darby? The Quinn Darby who photographed Princess Eleanor’s wedding in Cape Town? Those pictures were absolutely stunning.”
“Thank you.”
She was particularly proud of the job she’d done shooting the princess’s wedding. The photographs had turned out to be some of her best work. Not only that, but she’d managed to nab the evidence to indict a British MP for his involvement with an African drug cartel. All in all, it was quite a weekend endeavor.
“That’s exactly the type of pictures I want of our wedding,” Josslyn gushed. “I mean, the White House rose garden isn’t much of a backdrop. It’s pretty tame compared to the compound in South Africa.”
Adam laughed again. “There are no guarantees about how tame the guests will be, though.”
Josslyn elbowed him in the ribs. “Hush. You’ll scare her off just when I’m trying to talk her into the job. As I mentioned, we’re getting married at the White House in two weeks. And we desperately need a photographer. The woman I hired has been put on bedrest for a high-risk pregnancy. And you, well, you’re exactly what I’m looking for.”
Quinn swallowed roughly. As much as she’d love the artistic challenge of photographing a wedding in the White House, her life wasn’t her own. It never had been. After she secured the list, Quinn would need to make herself scarce. Once she fulfilled this mission, there would be another one waiting. Then another several weeks of laying low. Alone. Her life was a carousel of role playing and isolation. But it was the only one she knew. And it worked for her.
At least that was what she kept telling herself.
She swiped the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip. “I’m already booked completely for the rest of the summer. I’m so sorry.”