Chapter Ten

Mitch rolled out of his bunk at six, threw on gym shorts and a muscle shirt, and headed upstairs to the exercise room to meet Andrea for her workout. A little practice in hand-to-hand combat moves always came in handy, and if the assignment got down to a personal level, some extra physical training could help keep her from getting killed.

The room was empty when he arrived. He scanned the equipment. A set of free weights and a treadmill. One of those fancy machines that could be programmed to do anything, maybe even simulate climbing Mt. Everest. A punching bag. At the far end, a juice bar with blender, glasses, and a mini-fridge. A rack with hanging monogrammed towels. Although nothing looked as if it had ever been used, the room was stocked with everything the owner or his guests could possibly need.

Several sky-blue exercise mats were neatly rolled against a wall. He set to work flattening enough to cover the center of the floor.

As he positioned the last mat, Andrea swept through the door wearing a sleeveless white leotard that showed off the rosy glow her skin had acquired sunbathing. The fit was extremely distracting and gave her an unfair advantage. He’d have nowhere to put his hands without touching something smooth or soft.

Telling himself to treat her like any other Ranger, and especially to forget everything he’d seen and she’d done the night before, he said, “Good morning.”

She strolled toward him, and he couldn’t help noticing how fluidly she moved. She seemed physically sure of herself, another attribute he found attractive.

“Hi. How did you want to do this?” She seemed to be noticing his physique in return.

“Freestyle is fine with me.”

“Okay then, anything goes.”

They faced off. He assumed she was weaker, hadn’t finished her training, and was more likely to be injured. He wanted a better idea of her skill level before getting overly aggressive, so when she attacked, he dogged right and threw a couple halfhearted blows, pulling them so as not to inflict serious damage.

Her jaw clenched. His hesitation seemed to egg her on. She lunged, evaded, slipped around behind him. A sharp sweep of her leg had his feet flying out from under him, and he landed unceremoniously on his ass. He jackknifed to his feet and grabbed for her. She evaded him with an easy, swift shift to the side. She came back at him, and he spun her around, looping an arm around her neck. She grunted, bent at the waist, threw him with obvious pleasure, and then stood over him with a gloating glint in her eye.

“I was a tomboy growing up. I’m not fragile like Karli.”

He shook his head and gave her a wicked grin. “If you like to play rough, I can play rough.”

The challenge sparkled in her eyes. “Bring it on.”

He took off the kid gloves, got the advantage, and threw her. She gave him a speculative look, then came back with a series of skillful moves that earned his respect. Her physical condition was obviously as good as it looked. After she whipsawed around, kicked his chest, and had him winded and lying on his back, he said, “Where did you learn to defend yourself like that?”

“My brothers were constant bullies while I was growing up. When I was sent away to boarding school and given a chance to study martial arts, I jumped at the chance to learn a few moves that would help me defend myself and keep them away.”

They sparred for forty minutes, and as they traded throws, holds, flips, and sweeps, his opinion of her rose several notches. She was good. Strong and quick, and she had grit and determination.

He grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face. Within five minutes, he got in another toss. They were both winded and sweaty, and the time had come to quit.

Before she could spring up and counterattack, he straddled her and pinned her arms to the mat. “Cool down, tiger. Lesson’s over. You’ve had enough for today.”

She squirmed under him, trying to get free. Her chest heaved from the exertion of the exercise, and his gaze strayed to her breasts. Quick as a lightning bolt, his body reacted.

She growled, “Get off.” He shifted his focus to her face. Her dark eyes were filled with anger and confusion. The wariness he saw buried deep made him feel like a heel.

He took in their positions. Huge mistake. He jumped up and turned his back before his erection became obvious. “Good job, Ms. Stone,” he called over his shoulder as he rushed toward the exit. “We’ll continue with your training tomorrow.”

…

Andrea endured another vegetarian lunch—a spinach and mandarin orange salad followed by a tiny, crustless avocado and egg sandwich—then she went to her cabin. Whether she was looking forward to hosting the fund-raiser or not, she still had to go into town and oversee the final preparations for Karli’s party. And if she was going into town for another performance, she had to dress for the part.

She slipped on one of her new blouses, then scanned the closet evaluating her choices of shorts, pants, and skirts. What was suitable for a business meeting but not too stuffy? Casual was the style in the islands. She wanted something she could run in if necessary, so the pencil skirts were definitely out. Shorts or a loose skirt? As Andrea she would wear jean shorts, but Karli would probably choose something more feminine. A pair of white capris in a stretchy material caught her eye. Perfect.

Shoes presented another problem. She searched for a pair of running shoes, but found none. Settling for white sandals with a three-inch heel, Andrea huffed out her breath and scanned the shelf of purses. She hated lugging the things around and preferred a small backpack, but Karli would use a purse to carry her makeup and preening supplies. And one would come in handy to stash a weapon.

She pulled a white shoulder bag off the shelf, and transferred all the feminine paraphernalia from the purse she’d used yesterday. Her gun was slightly too big to fit. After dumping everything out, she tried the gun alone. No good. Damn. She headed toward the closet to select a bigger purse.

A knock on her door.

“Who is it?”

“Weaver.”

No time to swap purses now. She stuck a can of pepper spray and the sharp letter opener she’d found in Karli’s dressing table into a side compartment of the white purse, stashed her gun out of sight, and slung the purse strap over her shoulder.

“Coming.”

She opened the door. Weaver looked her over, then his gaze shifted and traveled around the room. He frowned and pointed at the gift-wrapped candy box on the table in the sitting area. “Who sent the chocolates?”

“Those are not just your average, run-of-the-mill chocolates. They’re handmade truffles from the Belgian Chocolate Factory, compliments of our saleswoman at the boutique.”

“Don’t eat them. We don’t know what our would-be assassins might attempt. Handmade chocolates would be especially easy to lace with poison.”

He was right, of course. Why hadn’t she thought of that? She sighed, stepped to the table, and reluctantly picked up the box of luscious-looking goodies and dropped it into the trash.

He bent and pulled it out. “We’ll have them tested.”

She clenched her teeth. Her second mistake in less than a minute. Why did she act like such a dunce around this man?

He motioned for her to precede him down the hall. As she moved past him, being very careful not to brush even one of the golden hairs on his arm, she noticed he was wearing slacks today. Whether he wore shorts or slacks was inconsequential; he looked very good in a uniform. Or anything else.

Her mind’s eye pictured him in his workout clothes, looming over her, straddling her on the floor, his skin glistening with moisture. A crazy little flutter skipped through her abdomen.

She dragged her thoughts away from the hard erection that had pressed against her waist. She shouldn’t have let him get her in such a compromising position. Her legs were strong. She should have slung her right leg up, hooked her heel against his throat, levered backward, broke his hold, and sent him flying. But she’d been so shocked by the surge of heat having him straddling her had sent up her spine, her mind had gone blank.

His devilish grin was part of the problem. It was his best weapon against any woman, and probably gave him his pick of companions. A lot of them went for the he-man type. But she wasn’t going to swoon over his smile or toned muscles or raw sensuality. He may have momentarily confused her, making her miss a chance to land him on his ass once, but she wasn’t about to let that happen again.

Stick to business. Fill the silence with small talk. “It’s a good thing Karli made most of the arrangements for this shindig by phone or email. I hate stiff, formal parties, and spending hours on preparations is a huge waste of time. ”

Weaver said, “Introduce me as your indispensable executive assistant and joke that I’m always there no matter what you need done. That way I’ll have a valid reason for sticking to you like glue. I’ll claim to have sent some of the email instructions and the contract on your behalf. Make a remark to the effect that just signing your name is easier than working through all the details.”

She frowned. “I’ll sound like an airhead.”

“If you don’t know what you’re supposed to have requested, you’re going to look foolish anyway. Who would you rather have look foolish, you or me?”

She planted a fist on her hip and gave him a withering look. “What makes you think I’m ignorant of the arrangements or that you’re a better bullshitter than I am?”

A sly smile brightened his face. “Bullshit is my middle name. Just play along. If we’re lucky, we can bluff our way through.”

“For Karli’s sake I hope neither of us looks too foolish. After this is over, the poor woman has to live with the things we do in her name.”

Repeating yesterday’s routine, Kenyon slid out of the car, checked the back entrance, and stood guard in the street outside the shop. Gregory checked in and reported an all-clear. Mitch peeked inside the doors first, scanned for dangers, then satisfied with what he saw, he and Kenyon escorted Andrea from the limo, hustling her to safety.

Andrea thought of the phrase hours of boredom interrupted by moments of terror. She couldn’t remember where she’d heard it, but it certainly seemed fitting.

They were greeted by a chipper blonde wearing snug slacks and a low-cut ruffled blouse. When she looked at Weaver she added an I’m-very-available smile. “How wonderful to finally meet you, Ms. Stone. I’m Gretchen, of course. Please be seated.”

Andrea introduced Weaver and recited her line explaining he was her assistant.

Weaver was treated to a flash of white teeth. “Then I guess we’ll be working closely for a few days.”

“There isn’t much left to do,” Andrea said, inexplicably irritated by the sweet scent of the woman’s perfume.

“True. Just a few details, but I’ll look forward to Mr. Weaver’s, and your, input.”

The party would be held at a hotel at the summit of the island, nine hundred feet above town, and had a pirate theme. Andrea wondered who the pirate was. Maybe Blackbeard? Karli had chosen black napkins.

Weaver seemed to be familiar with the restaurant and locale, and he took over the conversation quickly. Andrea sat back and watched and listened, relieved not to have to handle the details.

From what she gathered, the location of the party sounded perfect, even slightly romantic. The restaurant’s wide patio overlooked the capital city, Charlotte Amalie, and the picturesque harbor. Of course, Weaver wouldn’t allow her to step out onto the patio. From there, she’d be a sitting duck for a sniper.

The buffet sounded delicious: fresh Caribbean lobster, American shrimp, sushi, pasta salads, and numerous West Indian specialties. Andrea’s mouth watered at the mention of cooked-to-order Black Angus tenderloin. Of course, as Karli, she wouldn’t get a taste.

Weaver maintained a sense of watchfulness, even as he and Gretchen reviewed an impressive wine list, then moved on to the decor. Andrea nodded occasionally, but spent most of the time studying Weaver. She really liked the way he moved. He reminded her of a tiger, powerful but restrained, hypnotizing in his fluidity. Plus he looked so hot in his neat uniform, she had to make a conscious effort to keep up with the conversation.

“We may have a small problem with the flowers,” Gretchen said, tiny furrows appearing on her brow as she turned to Andrea. “My supplier isn’t sure he can find enough white lilies for all the tables. I suggest we change.”

Mitch jumped in. “That sounds reasonable.”

Gretchen looked unsure of whom to ask and glanced between Andrea and Mitch. “What would you like instead?”

Mitch looked at Andrea and gave her a cocky smile, unexpectedly sending a surge of sexual heat through her. “I’ve forgotten, Ms. Stone. What color is your dress?”

Fury rippled up her spine, at both her reaction to his smile and his gall. Since he seemed to know everything else, he was probably baiting her, seeing if she’d slip up. Thankful for Karli’s detailed notes, Andrea gave Mitch a meaningful look and answered in her best bored-socialite voice, “Black and white.”

“Of course.” He nodded approval that she’d played her part in the game, and his eyes revealed he was enjoying the whole conspiracy. Hmm. It seemed he might actually have a lighter side she hadn’t seen before. Too bad the jerk was trying to amuse himself at her expense.

His expression once more unreadable, he turned back to Gretchen. “Get something more local, like a bloodred hibiscus.”

Gretchen seemed pleased with his choice. Andrea wondered if the flower problem was real or simply a subtle way to get the selection changed without coming out and saying Karli’s choice sucked.

“Would you like to change the linens to coordinate with the new flowers?”

“Yes.”

“Just a second then. I’ll buzz my assistant and have her bring out a sample cart.”

The young cocoa-skinned woman who rolled out the cart glanced at Andrea and then at Mitch. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks. “Oh my God. If it isn’t Mitch Weaver in the gorgeous flesh!”

He looked up and broke into a broad grin. “Shardae. Wow, you haven’t changed a bit. You’re still the prettiest chem lab partner I ever had.”

She laughed. “And I can tell you’re still using your charm to wind every woman you meet around your little finger.” She looked at Andrea with a twinkle in her eye. “Morning, Ms. Stone.”

Mitch said, “Shardae and I suffered through a year of high school chemistry together. If she hadn’t given me a few answers, I might still be trying to graduate.”

“Don’t believe a word this one says. He would have been our class valedictorian if it hadn’t been for his depression after his mama’s death. He was sharp as broken glass, but a tragedy like that could throw anybody into a tailspin.”

Mitch cleared his throat. “Did you and Darius ever tie the knot?”

Shardae gave him an understanding smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up sad times.” She raised her left hand and thumbed her rings. “Six years now. We’ve got twin boys lively as minnows in a tide pool. Darius flies the seaplane shuttle to Saint Croix and back five times a day.”

Mitch nodded. “I’ll have to give him a call. We should get together and catch up.”

Shardae positioned the cart near her boss, stepped in and gave Mitch a hug, and then pointed at his chest. “I suppose I’d be wasting my words to even ask if you’re married. You’re not wearing a ring, and ladies’ men are usually slow to settle down. But I hope you at least have someone special in your life.”

Andrea’s ears perked up. An interesting subject.

Mitch chuckled. “I’m still playing the field. But tell Darius he’d better watch his wife. He got you away from me once, but now that I know where to find you, it might not happen again.”

Shardae laughed and shook her head as she ambled toward the door. “Like I said, same old charmer. You haven’t changed a bit.”

Andrea considered the exchange. Maybe bullshit was his middle name.