BECAUSE HE’D PREPARED himself for the tsunami-like wave of lust he knew would hit him when he saw Mia again, Tanner was ready. He’d put his game face on, had indulged in a little self-gratification last night to take the edge off and was as mentally focused as he could possibly be.
What was completely unexpected and therefore unplanned for was the wallop of sheer emotion—a disconcerting combination of joy, relief and desperation—that had him suddenly wondering if his testosterone levels were low. Men weren’t supposed to feel like this, dammit. These were chick feelings and he didn’t like them one bleeding bit. He determinedly bent forward and brushed a kiss against her cheek, vaguely noting that she smelled like peaches, and felt her ripe breasts press against his chest.
Predictably he went hard and those jarring softer emotions thankfully retreated as swiftly as they’d arrived.
“Mia, it’s been a long time,” he murmured, surprised when his voice stayed even. He felt like he was flying apart on the inside, had that same breathless-in-the-gut feeling he always got when taking a jump. Insane, he thought. She was just a girl, could have possibly been the girl, but still, was just a girl all the same.
She made a curious little choked sound in her throat and drew back. “It has. How have you been?”
Ed arched an interested brow. “You two know each other?”
“We do,” Mia confirmed with a single nod. “We, er… We went to college together.”
And had wild, down-and-dirty sex on a table in the library, Tanner added silently. And beneath the table. And against the wall. He watched her pulse flutter wildly in her throat, her cheeks pinken and knew that he wasn’t the only one taking a fond stroll down Great Sex Memory Lane.
Ed inclined his dark head. “Well that should make this easier then, eh? A long trek like this will be much better with someone you know instead of a total stranger. I’m sure you’ll have plenty to talk about. Do some catching up.”
Mia’s smile wavered and she darted him a quick look at Tanner. “Oh, definitely,” she said, lying with more skill than he remembered. He filed that away for future consideration, then gave her a little grin to let her know he’d picked up on it.
Time to get rid of Ed, Tanner thought. He turned to the older gentleman, stuck out his hand and slapped the man on the back with friendly camaraderie. “Ed, thanks for bringing me up to speed. We’ll be in contact.”
“I’m sure both the statue and Mia will be in good hands,” Ed said, nodding thoughtfully.
Mia made another little strangling noise, then cleared her throat. “G-got a tickle,” she said, putting a finger against her neck. She started toward the vending machine. “I just need to get a drink.”
Slightly bemused at her odd behavior, Tanner merely stood back and observed. She chose a bottled water from the machine and seemed to purposely keep her back to him while she took a swallow. After a minute, she took a deep breath, then exhaled and turned around to face him. Evidently once more in default mode, she’d engaged the reset button and was seemingly ready to deal with him again. Interesting. Also gratifying. He liked that he’d rattled her.
Warm brown eyes, set in a classical heart-shaped face, regarded him with equal parts curiosity and reservation and a small smile tugged at the corners of her full, unbelievably carnal mouth. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back, with a single large curl resting invitingly around the swell of her breast. She wore a white silk scoop-necked top beneath a fitted purple jacket and matching skirt. She had a true Renaissance figure, Tanner noted, with a small waist and lush curves—which had grown even more sensually rounded with age—and a pair of frighteningly high, incredibly sexy black heels.
He looked pointedly at the over-the-top heels and raised a brow. “Regular footwear not dangerous enough for you?”
She kicked her foot out and twisted her ankle to admire her shoes. “It’s one way to live on the edge.”
When had she ever wanted to live on the edge? Tanner wondered. Last he remembered, she wanted a dependable husband, a mortgage and a minivan. The ultimate American Dream, à la Normal Rockwell and ’50s sitcoms. He grimaced.
His dreams had been decidedly different, which was no small part of the reason they’d broken up.
“They can’t be comfortable,” he told her, skeptically eying the sliver of pointy heel. He mentally stripped her of every ounce of clothing save the shoes, and the image was so hot it could have burned his retinas.
Mia looked at him as though he were pityingly clueless. “Shoes like these aren’t meant to be comfortable. They’re meant to be admired and appreciated. They’re jewelry for the feet.”
“Foot jewelry? Seriously?”
She smirked and shook her head. “What sort of gun is that under your jacket?”
“It’s a Glock 21 .45ACP with octogonal bore, single-position feed, staggered column type, thirteen rounds,” he rattled off without thinking.
Her lips twisted. “Bibbidi bobbidi boo,” she said. “I didn’t understand a single thing beyond Glock.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re comparing my gun to your shoes?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“But my gun is practical and your shoes are…not.”
“Ah, but your gun wouldn’t be practical to me,” she said, lifting her shoulders in a small shrug. “It’s all relative.”
“I can defend myself with my gun,” he added.
Her lips twitched. “One would hope. Otherwise, you’d be a sorry excuse for a security agent.”
Tanner laughed again, reminded of her somewhat skewed sense of humor. It was smart, offbeat and occasionally biting, but admirable all the same. He’d missed that about her, too, he realized. He’d missed that jagged, tongue-in-cheek wit. “Too true,” he told her.
“So what have you been up to?” she asked. “No longer in the military, I assume.”
He felt his skin tighten around his eyes and his gut clench. “That’s right. Less than a month, in fact.”
“So you’re new to the security business?”
“New but capable,” he told her, lest she think his in experience was going to be a problem. He’d been protecting his country, disarming terrorists and fighting insurgents, dammit. He was fully capable of moving a little statue from Point A to Point B without a problem. He’d already outlined a plan and scouted ahead to avoid road construction and heavier traffic.
Her gaze sharpened and he belatedly remembered how easily she’d always been able to read him, as though by simply cocking her head or narrowing her eyes, she could fine-tune the reception and pick the thoughts right out of his brain. It was as galling and unnerving as it had always been and he made a mental note to be more careful.
“Needed a change of scenery, eh?” she asked, unerringly going straight to the heart of the matter. The grisly images taunted him once more and he gave a dry bark of laughter.
“In a manner of speaking,” he said, throwing her words back at her. He straightened. “So are you ready to go? Do we need to drop by your place and pick anything up?”
She winced. “My place is in Savannah, so that would be a little difficult. But I do need to change clothes and pick up my stuff.”
“Savannah?” he asked, startled. He’d just assumed that she was in D.C., that her work with the museum kept her here.
“Yes. I’ve been there for several years now.”
“You don’t work for the Smithsonian Institute?” Dammit, he should have checked up on her, looked her up on Google at the very least, but he’d convinced himself that it wasn’t necessary. That, ultimately, it didn’t matter. She was just part of a job and poking into her past would somehow weaken his ability to keep that in perspective. He’d concentrated his efforts on Ramirez and Ackerman, a zealous reporter who gave him pause, and all the other people connected with the exhibit. He’d purposely avoided looking into her background because he’d been too damned curious about her and couldn’t distinguish if his interest was personal or professional.
Clearly that had been a mistake, one that he deeply regretted now because it made him look foolish.
She shook her head, obviously surprised that he didn’t know that already. “Not directly, no. I work for the Southern Center of Antiquities, which is based in Savannah. We’re privately funded so we’ve got a little more authority over our interests. My director, in particular, is interested in South American culture. I did postgraduate studies in Brazil, so naturally, I was eager to participate in this exhibit. It’s my big break of sorts. My first as a liaison, in fact.”
She didn’t precisely preen, but it was obvious that she was quite proud of herself. Her first job as a liaison, his first assignment for Ranger Security. There was a lot more than Dick’s safety riding on this, Tanner suddenly realized.
Neither one of them could afford for him to make a mistake. And he’d already made his first by not investigating her further. Shit.
“So you’ve been living in a hotel for the past several weeks?”
“With my boyfriend, actually,” she corrected. “He’s got a place here.”
He felt her revelation reverberate through him and, though it was incredibly irrational, he was suddenly humiliatingly jealous of the faceless, nameless man. Was there no end to his own stupidity?
Determined not to look like an idiot or say anything dim-witted, Tanner merely inclined his head. “Ah. Does he know you’re going to be traveling with me?” Great. He’d failed, once again. That question sounded entirely too self-important, and he immediately regretted it.
“Not with you specifically, but he knows that I will be accompanying the statue with the security agent.” Her gaze turned speculative, as though she were considering something, but then her brow smoothed and she straightened briskly. “I suppose we should get on the road. I’m assuming you’ve plotted our route?”
His lips twisted. Still bossy, he saw. As if he’d show up without a plan. As if he didn’t know how to read a map. As if he hadn’t already made reservations at pre-selected hotels and viewed their layouts to accommodate the swiftest exit plan. Sheesh. What did she take him for? Then again, he wasn’t off to a great start. “Nah,” he told her, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I thought I’d drive around aimlessly for a little while.”
She blinked, startled. “To throw off any would-be pursuers?”
He gave his head a small shake, pushed open the door and waited for her to pass. “That would be my secondary objective.”
“What’s the first?”
“To irritate the hell out of you. Of course, I’ve planned our route,” he said, exasperated.
To his surprise, she actually laughed, a soft husky sound that made something hot slither around his middle and squeeze. “That’s a mission I’m absolutely certain you’ll accomplish. With little to no effort,” she added.
He grinned. “I’m that good, eh, Bossy?”
She rolled her eyes and a little furrow emerged between her fine, arched brows. “Nobody’s called me that in years.”
“And yet the seemingly uncontrollable urge to direct is still evident,” he drawled, opening her car door before she could do it herself. “Your minions are either too respectful or too terrified to comment on it.” He winked at her. “I’ll let you know what conclusion I come to later.”
“I’ll be waiting with bated breath.”
Tanner chuckled and a small part of the tension he’d been carrying around for months slid off his shoulders.
One thing was for certain, this mission damned sure wasn’t going to be boring, not with Mia and Dick around.
“I DON’T THINK MIA IS traveling with the exhibit this time.”
The man paused to consider what his informant had just said and his eyes narrowed. “Why is that?”
“Because she left the museum with a man I’ve never seen before.”
“Couldn’t it have been her boyfriend?”
There was a snort. “This guy didn’t look like any professor I’ve ever seen. He was fit, cagey. Put me in mind of a cop, actually.”
Well, that changed things then, didn’t it? Honestly, this was beginning to get tiresome. He just wanted the statue. He’d stolen dozens of other things—more valuable and better guarded—than this and those items hadn’t been anywhere near as much trouble. That’s what happened when you outsourced, the man thought. Quality control became a real bitch. Of course, he had other reasons for putting a lackey in place.
“Follow her to the airport,” he instructed.
“And if she doesn’t go to the airport?”
“Then pull something out of your bag of tricks and follow her wherever she goes. She’s headed to Dallas, ultimately. I can’t imagine why she would suddenly stop moving with her staff, but if that’s the case, then there’s a reason.” A significant one, he imagined. He paused, continued to sort through possibilities. “And let me know if this guy goes with her. That could be important.”
“Certainly.”
It would be interesting to see what Mia did. He couldn’t imagine the thorough little liaison would abandon Maula Hautu in light of the attempted thefts. Even though it wasn’t her job to provide security, she was ultimately responsible for the entire exhibit. In short, it was her ass on the line if things went wrong. That’s why he’d been watching her, monitoring what she did.
She was a key player in a game she didn’t know she was playing and wasn’t equipped to handle. And he had no qualms about taking her out if she stood in his way.
IT FELT EXTREMELY WEIRD to see Tanner inside Harlan’s apartment. He was too big, too masculine, too…much for the sedate space she’d come to associate with her calm, intellectual boyfriend. Harlan preferred earth tones, natural woods and was a firm believer in right angles. No caddy-cornering things here, she thought, although she silently admitted she’d occasionally adjust a stack of magazines, the coasters or the magnets on the refrigerator just to irritate him. The passive-aggressive rebellion never failed to give her a wicked little thrill. She winced.
She realized she was in a sorry damned state when that’s what qualified as both wicked and thrilling in her book.
Her nerves already frayed and stretched to the breaking point—after only a mere thirty minutes in Tanner’s company—Mia hurriedly changed clothes, then gathered up Moe and dragged her rolling suitcase and toiletry bag into the living room.
Tanner was scanning pictures and books crammed into the shelves on either side of the fireplace. “The Count of Monte Cristo,” he said, sliding a finger down the spine. “It’s always been a favorite of mine. Lord Byron,” he said, inclining his head. “A favorite of yours, if memory serves. Don Juan, specifically, right?”
She nodded, too surprised to speak.
He pulled out of volume of Shakespeare. “The Taming of the Shrew, also a favorite I seem to recall.” He tsked under his breath and shot her a reproachful look. “But no Poe, I see.”
Tanner had always loved Edgar Allan Poe, and had been a huge fan of The Raven and Annabelle Lee in particular. She remembered discussing the troubled author with him at length, arguing over his genius and character. Mia would admit that the guy had been a genius, but the fact that he’d married his thirteen-year-old cousin when he’d been twenty-six was a bit of a sticking point with her. It didn’t discount the work, she knew, but it had always colored her opinion of it.
Tanner snagged her attention by gesturing to a picture of her and Harlan that had been taken on a Caribbean cruise the previous summer. She wore a yellow sundress and big floppy hat. Having suffered from sun poisoning as a child, Harlan’s svelte frame was dressed in long-sleeves and pants, and his face was covered in thick white sunblock. He’d looked like an albino scarecrow, she thought, wincing at the uncharitable thought. If he’d had his way, they’d have been vacationing in cooler climes, but he’d indulged her because she’d always loved the sun.
“St. Lucia?” Tanner asked.
“Cozumel,” she corrected.
“The water’s amazing, isn’t it? The prettiest, clearest blue I’ve ever seen.”
She was surprised. She’d never imagined Tanner would take that sort of vacation while in the military. “You’ve been to Cozumel?”
“After graduation,” he said, shooting her an awkward smile. “Before I officially began my military career.”
No doubt the entire football team and the cheerleading squad—hell, probably the majorettes, as well—had gone on that trip, Mia thought, a sour taste developing on her tongue. She turned a stack of coasters and tried to loosen her jaw. “I guess you’ve traveled a pretty good bit.”
Something in her voice must have betrayed her because he regarded her steadily for a moment before answering. “Mostly to war zones and third-world countries, though I have managed to spend a little time in better places. Germany was surprising. All those castles.” He leafed through another book, then returned it to its place. “Prague is one of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever seen. London, Paris, Rome, of course. I hated Paris, but the beauty of the French countryside offered redemption. Rolling hills and vineyards, stone fences and cottages. Very bucolic and picturesque.”
“Have you ever thought about going back?”
“You mean, live there permanently?” he asked, as though the idea had never occurred to him. “No,” he admitted. “I’ve got a touch of wanderlust—I love seeing other places, drinking in the culture, colors and landscape—but I’m a country boy at heart.” He flashed her an authentic aw-shucks grin. “Nothing will ever be lovelier than those Carolina hills.”
“So you’re back in Asheville?”
His face froze and a shadow moved behind his gaze. “No, I’m in Atlanta.”
“That’s right,” she said. “That’s where Ranger Security is based. I’d forgotten.”
A long dimple appeared in his left cheek and those pale green eyes crinkled in the corners. “Checked them out, did you?”
Mia blushed, but stubbornly lifted her chin. “You bet your ass I did. After all, if something goes wrong, it’s my ass on the line here.” She patted the nondescript backpack that housed the valuable statue. “If anything happens to Moe. I’m the one who will be unemployable.”
He frowned. “Moe?”
“My nickname for him,” she explained. She pushed her hair away from her face. “Maulu Hautu is a bit of a mouthful.”
Tanner grinned, poked his tongue in his cheek and shrugged lazily. The gesture was so inherently sexy, it should been against the law. “We’ve just been calling him Dick.”
She flattened her lips to keep them from twitching, then bit the inside of her cheek for good measure. “For obvious reasons, I prefer Moe.”
“We’re Southern, you know,” he said, rocking back on his heels. “We could always go with a double name. Sort of like Brenda Sue and Erma Jean.” His eyes twinkled. “Moe Dick.”
She had to bite her lip, but could feel the smile slipping from beneath her teeth. “I don’t think so.”
“You gotta admit, it’s got a ring to it. Moe Dick.” He nodded once. “I like it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Only because it’s lewd.”
“Which makes it all the more appropriate.”
Since she couldn’t argue with that, Mia simply shook her head. “I’m going to call him Moe. You can call him whatever you want to.”
“I would have anyway,” he said, as if she needed that reminder. Tanner had always done things his way. Ridiculously, it was part of his appeal. He nodded briskly, then looked down at the bags at her feet. “Is this everything?”
She nodded, suddenly nervous. “My laptop and camera are in the attaché case in the car.”
He blew out a breath, took the backpack from her shoulders and draped it across his own. Moe had been placed in a foam-lined locking metal box to insure his safe passage.
Apprehension worked its way across her brow. “I could have—”
He opened the door for her—more of that courtesy she’d remembered about him—then easily hefted her luggage and followed her down the sidewalk. “Though I know this goes against everything in that tightly wound, autocratic only-I-can-do-it-right little body of yours, Mia, you’re going to have to let me do my job.”
She knew he was right, yet couldn’t resist arguing with him. “Just because I have more confidence in my own ability than of others doesn’t make me tightly wound or autocratic.” She resisted the urge to point out to him that the luggage had wheels, that he didn’t have to carry it. Idiot. No doubt the wheels impugned his masculinity.
“And yet you are both.” He gave his head a mystified shake. “Go figure.”
She locked the door to Harlan’s apartment and flipped the dead bolt. “Smart-ass.”
She started down the walk and ran headlong into the back of him. “Umph. What are you—”
“We’ve got company,” he murmured quietly.
Panic punched her heart into a quicker rhythm. “What? Who?” She peered around an impressive biceps and swore under her breath. “That’s—”
“Freddie Ackerman. Miami Herald,” he finished in a cool all-business voice, and she couldn’t help but be impressed. Though she would have expected nothing less, it was clear Tanner had done his homework—on everything but her. No doubt they wouldn’t agree on his technique, but she knew he was fully capable of taking care of both her and Moe. “I understand he’s been following the exhibit for weeks now. Got a bit of a bulldog reputation, on the fringes of being unscrupulous.”
“Yes,” she confirmed. Tanner resumed his pace. “What’s he doing here?” she whispered frantically. “He should be on his way to the airport.” Actually, he should already be at the airport, making his way through those hellish security lines. She couldn’t imagine why he was here, or how he’d found her. It was beyond odd.
“I’ll handle it,” Tanner told her. “You play along.”
A red flag instantly went up. Play along? She didn’t like the sound of that at all. It put him in charge and her at his mercy.
For reasons she couldn’t begin to explain she had the oddest feeling that that the next few days of her life were going to be precisely like that.
Him in charge, her at his mercy.
To her consternation, a wicked thrill swirled in her belly. She didn’t know what was more disconcerting—that she was going to be with him for the next several days.
Or that she was going to like it.