“We need to talk,” he began.
“Thank you,” she murmured softly at the same time.
Her husky tone nearly took him out at the knees. He shook his head to refocus. “What?”
She inched forward giving Ben a bird’s-eye view of her dewy cleavage. He swallowed roughly.
“I said thank you. For saving my life.” She gestured toward the canopied bed. “And for . . . comforting me last night. Agent Groesch said you stayed with me.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t going to let you drown without finding out why the hell you trashed my boat.”
He wouldn’t regret his harsh tone, even when she took a step back. Although he did regret losing the enticing view.
“I didn’t trash your boat.”
He waited for the telltale signal she was lying, but there wasn’t one. Only annoyance. Both surprised him.
“Then who did?”
She looked away, but he was in no mood to put up with any more duplicity from her. He was tired and horny and both afflictions seemed to be forcing him into making rash decisions. Closing the distance between them, he wrapped his fingers around her chin and tilted it so they were once again eye to eye. He would make her talk.
But the alarm he saw shadowing her face had his gut clenching with guilt. She was afraid. Of who? Of him?
Wrapping his arms around her, Ben pulled her body flush against his. He brushed his lips over her forehead.
“He tried to kill you,” he murmured against her soft skin. “Don’t you dare try to protect him.”
“I’m not protecting him,” she whispered.
She was protecting someone. Every fiber of his body was telling him so.
“Talk to me, Quinn. Let me help you.”
Gripping the towel wrapped around her with one hand, she reached up with the other to trace her fingers along his jaw. “This is something I need to handle myself.”
Unable to tame his frustration, he gave her body a little shake. Who the hell did she think she was, Wonder Woman?
She caressed his cheek with her palm. “Please, Ben. It’s best for everyone. Let me go.”
Let me go.
Those three little words seemed to unleash something within him. The roaring in his ears was brought on by years of pent-up emotions wondering why she’d left and what had become of her. And agonizing over ‘what if?’ No way was he letting her go again. Not until he had answers.
And maybe not even after that.
“I didn’t pull you out of the damn Chesapeake Bay to let you go,” he growled.
And before either of them knew what was happening, he captured her mouth in a fierce kiss. He was tired of waiting. Now he was taking. And take he did. Shoving the towel from her head, he buried his fingers in her wet hair. He tipped her head so he had a better angle to more thoroughly ravage her mouth.
Thankfully, Quinn didn’t put up any resistance. When he opened her lips with his own, she welcomed him in with a sexy moan from deep in the back of her throat. Her fingers scored the back of his head as though she was trying to fuse their bodies together. He let his own hands roam beneath the towel covering her body, skimming over the globes of her ass. She nipped at his tongue when he squeezed gently.
His brain was yelling at him to slow things down, but the rest of his body parts weren’t listening. He deepened the kiss, tangling his tongue with hers while his fingers traced the sensuous curves of her body. Her pleasure-filled sighs spurred him on even more. He needed to get her to the bed.
Now.
“National Security my ass!”
Terrie’s words were like a bomb dropping in the room. Ben swore savagely when Quinn broke off their kiss. She was flushed head-to-toe. Clutching her towel to her chest she glanced around the room, looking for likely escape routes if he had to guess. Fergus added to the commotion by yipping and dancing between their legs.
“Out!” Terrie commanded. “And take the little dog with you.”
Jesus.
Ben gave his head a little shake to try to restore some rational thought. Thank goodness Terrie had come along when she had. He needed to stop reacting to Quinn as if she was the girl from his youth. That girl was gone. He had no idea who the woman he’d just been locking lips with was. Or whether or not her heated response was real. And that pissed him off. He needed to put some distance between them and sort out his next move.
But he couldn’t leave Quinn yet. Not until she’d agreed to stay put. She was his only connection to Ronoff and he still needed answers about the Russian.
“Promise me you’ll be here when I get back.”
Her eyes were shining with equal parts apprehension and frustration. She looked as if she was going to argue. But then she nodded solemnly.
“Can I trust you?” he whispered, not sure if he would even believe her answer.
“Yes.” She nodded again, this time with determination.
The temptation to brush the backs of his knuckles along her cheek was strong. He resisted. “Then trust me. And stay put.”
Fergus was having a field day with Ben’s shoelaces. Terrie cleared her throat angrily. Quinn stepped away. He picked up the pesky dog and left the room just as the door slammed behind him.
Christine waited outside, an I-told-you-so look pasted firmly on her face.
“Can you keep an eye on her?” he asked. “Please.”
The other agent crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you sure she’s who you think she is?”
No.
He wasn’t sure about anything. “Actually, I sincerely hope she’s not the person I think she is right now.”
With that, he handed her the dog and headed out to confront the Secretary of Homeland.
*
Trust me.
Ben’s words ricocheted around inside Quinn’s head all morning. Trust wasn’t exactly in her wheelhouse. Mainly because, in her profession, trusting someone often came with the possibility she might end up dead. But given her current situation, she had no choice. Until she figured out a way to slip out from beneath the watchful eyes of Ben’s friends, she was forced to trust him with her life.
Too bad it was his life she was more worried about. As long as Ronoff believed he had the micro card, Ben was in danger. He’d obviously left the safety of the White House, but where had he gone? She said a silent prayer he’d taken his sniper friend with him.
“Did Ben say when he’d be back?” she asked for what had to be the third time already.
Josslyn looked up from the stack of wedding response cards she was sorting with the First Lady’s secretary. They were seated at a table on the Truman Balcony overlooking the south lawn of the White House. The late morning breeze carried with it the muffled sounds of traffic and tourists.
“He didn’t.” Her indulgent smile was beginning to look strained.
No doubt Ben’s friends were a little apprehensive about welcoming into their midst a woman who Russian thugs had left for dead. Not that she could blame them. Given the chilly reception from the other woman in the room—Marin, the wife of another agent—she suspected he had shared with his friends the salient details of their past.
Still, she was grateful for the clothing Josslyn had loaned her. She was pretty sure the woman had done so at Ben’s request. But at least she didn’t have to hide in one of the bedrooms with a towel as her only covering. Once again, she found herself wondering what it would be like to have close friends who would do anything for her. Ben was a lucky guy. The sooner she diverted the danger away from him—and his friends—the better.