JACK UNLOCKED THE CUFFS as the limo pulled up in front of the embassy. They’d been to several parties here in the past. Knowing the layout of the house made tonight’s job that much easier. Too easy, Mia thought suspiciously, shooting Jack a glance.
The disk they were there to retrieve was probably in the safe in the library. First floor, and just beyond the downstairs bathrooms. They’d never heisted anything from here before, but they’d certainly scoped out what was where. Just in case.
Their job description was—had been—gray ops retrieval. If something needed to be copied, or replaced, Jack and Mia were sent in to do the job. If specific information was required, Jack could set up a program to trap key strokes and send the info back to the agency’s computers without the user being any the wiser.
While Mia’s nimble fingers could open just about anything locked, Jack’s expertise was anything computer related. He was brilliant. He could ferret around to his heart’s content, change, tweak or copy without leaving a whisper of a fingerprint, not a breath of evidence that he’d tromped all over their hard drive.
But this job was nothing that intrusive or complicated. In this case they were to retrieve a disk with the names and addresses of the people funding the arms race in one of the ever name changing nations north of South Africa.
It was suspected that not only were there thousands of wealthy individuals contributing, but also a good number of American corporations. And of course millions of dollars in funding was being funneled to the cause from certain weapons manufacturers who benefited from the continuing war.
American weapons were killing thousands of American soldiers sent there to protect the nation’s citizens from the bad guys. Anyone possessing the list of contributors was in the position to halt the war. Or escalate it.
They were there to retrieve the disk.
Piece of cake, Mia thought as she waited for Jack to round the car to her side and then for the driver to pull away to a predesignated spot in case they had to make a hasty departure.
And she would be hasty. She’d be in and out in ten minutes or less.
And this blind date from hell would be over.
Ten minutes with Jack, using their usual cover, was about all she’d be able to take.
With any luck at all, tonight wouldn’t even be a blip in her memory this time tomorrow.
She took a deep breath of cold night air. It hadn’t snowed in the past couple of days, and gray sludge was banked against the shrubs lining the driveway. She’d be home before the arrival of the predicted snow flurries.
“Still don’t bother to wear a coat. Stubborn woman.” He didn’t remove his own thick, black wool overcoat because he knew from experience she’d never wear it. Not even for the few minutes it took to traverse the driveway and climb the front steps.
She was allergic to wool, wouldn’t wear fur and hated to be in anything bulky in case she needed to run like hell. “I’m warm-blooded.” She made a grab for the wrought-iron banister as her foot slipped on the ice-crusted sidewalk.
Jack rested his hand on the small of her back to steady her. The heat of his touch sizzled right through the flimsy fabric of her dress and just for one, tiny, ridiculously small, infinitesimal, eensy moment, she enjoyed the feel of his hand on her again.
God help her.
“Hot-blooded, you mean,” Jack murmured in her ear.
He was right. She was hot-blooded. Ordinarily, she could ignore the cold, but somehow she couldn’t quite manage to ignore Jack. He was the matchstick to her dynamite. The gas to her flame. The—oh, stop it, she thought crossly.
Jack hadn’t needed a cover. He was a wealthy playboy dilettante who couldn’t stand a too bright light shone on his activities. He had an…edge to him that was irresistible. Women dropped at his feet like flies and men were intrigued by just a hint of deep, dark secrets behind his midnight eyes. Men and women alike wanted to stand close to Jack’s dangerous flame. He was invited everywhere the rich, famous and powerful of DC gathered.
Jack Ryan had never been the right man for her, Mia reminded herself grimly. No matter what her body told her, he was not the right man for her. He was commitment-phobic for one thing, and for another he had no respect for hard-earned money. And she’d always know that there was something he wasn’t telling her. She’d always been waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop.
While she’d never starved, or been homeless, she had a healthy respect for the security of a decent bank balance. Her father had split when she was six. The classic—gone out for cigarettes and never come back. She’d seen just how her mom had struggled to support herself and two kids.
Mia wasn’t prepared to jeopardize her own hard-earned savings, or the stability and happiness of her future children, on a man who threw his money away, and kept secrets.
She’d kept her head, and systematically gone about searching for the father of those children for years before she’d met Jack.
And for several months she’d lost what was left of her brain.
She’d worked in intelligence at the agency for five years before they’d agreed to put her in the field. Her first assignment with Jack, heisting a briefcase from a foreign diplomat at Grand Central station, had been a onetime thing.
The job had gone so well, her nimble fingers so quick, the agency had made them a team. Jack had guarded her back and planned the jobs. Mia had been his “hands.” Her long, magic fingers could caress open any lock in less time than it took to say Uncle Sam. All those years in the trailer park playing marbles and, later, five card stud had given her dexterity. It had also given her a mistrust of the wealthy, and a healthy respect for her own self-preservation.
They’d never discussed their pasts, Mia had realized when it was all over. They’d both thought their lives had started the first time they’d been intimate. A clean slate, a new start, a fresh beginning. For both of them. Boy, had she been wrong.
She was already working at the bank, her cover, when she finally quit the agency. The transition had been relativity painless. Relatively.
Light spilled from the open front door down the snow-cleared steps. The house was enormous, imposing and filled with the crème de la crème of Washington, DC society, many of whom Jack and Mia knew from the round of social events they’d been invited to over the past couple of years. Washington was unlike any other city. Power was the ticket here, not money. A five-term senator had more clout than a five-generation family fortune. Because the Washington power brokers all lived on expense accounts, money had long ago become subservient to position and connection.
The foyer was crowded, filled with the fragrances of expensive hothouse flowers, pricey perfume and the scrumptious smells of the savory hors d’oeuvres waiters carried discreetly through the crowd of party guests.
“I have to use the rest room,” Mia told him quietly, stepping away from the warmth of his palm, which was resting possessively on the small of her back. “Will you wai—”
He stepped in closer, divested himself of his overcoat to the coat check girl, and wrapped a muscled, implacable arm about her waist, all without missing a beat. “Not yet. You know the game.”
Of course he’d known immediately she wanted to go in after the disk alone. Annoying man. “Just let me get on with this.”
“Not on your life. It’s too soon and you know it.”
“The sooner the better as far as I’m concerned.”
“Liar,” he said with a knowing smile. “Your blood’s pumping. Hot and fast.”
“It is not.”
“You can’t fool me, Mia. You never could.” His hand slid up and down her arm and tongues of flame danced on her bare skin. “I know you too well. You love the game. The excitement. The danger. That rush of adrenaline that jolts your system.”
She really did. Which was just another reason why she’d had to leave the business. Loving the danger was as unhealthy as loving Jack.
“Maybe I’ve changed.”
“Yeah? And maybe I’m a priest.”
She laughed in spite of the situation. The very thought of blatantly sexual Jack Ryan being a priest was enough to make a statue break out in a grin.
“It’s good to have you back, darling.”
She stiffened against his casual assumption and then forced herself to smile at the deputy mayor and his wife as they passed. Jack dipped his head and whispered in her ear and she tried her best not to turn into a gooey puddle. His warm breath fanned her skin and it didn’t seem to matter that all he was talking about was business. Her blood pumped and she was suddenly, acutely aware of the tiny thong she wore beneath her dress. For an outing with a blind date, it had felt naughty, a little dangerous. For an outing with Jack, it was an invitation to disaster.
Deliberately, she shifted away from him, but didn’t get far. He stayed glued to her side. She used her elbow to shove him away. Useless of course. The man was as immovable as a mountain.
Her stomach growled.
“Too nervous with anticipation to eat before your date?” he whispered in her ear. “Didn’t I always tell you to at least eat a piece of cheese to settle that stomach of yours.”
“So suggests the rat.” He’d insisted on feeding her soup and half a sandwich before they’d gone out on every job. It occurred to Mia that she hadn’t had indigestion since she and Jack had broken up.
“Half an hour of making nice and we can slip away,” he assured her.
“As long as it isn’t you I have to be nice t— Sandy!” Mia smiled, pleased to see the other woman who was a regular at the most “in” parties in the city. They air kissed exuberantly.
Sandra Kilstrom grabbed Mia’s hands and held open her arms, raking her eyes down Mia from head to toe.
Clearly disgusted, she scowled. “Damn it. Tell me you starve from Monday through Friday to keep this body or I’m going to have to kill you.”
Mia smiled. “I watch every stingy morsel I put into my mouth and repent at the gym four times a week.”
Sandy hugged her. “Oh! It’s so good to have you back, honey. Everyone has missed you.”
Jack tightened his arm about Mia’s waist and pulled her close. Damn, the position was so familiar so comfortable, that for several seconds she forgot she was over him. She tried to subtly shift out of reach, but he held her more firmly against him and rubbed his palm up and down her bare arm. “She watches what she eats, and I watch her,” Jack told Sandy smoothly.
“God, it’s great to see you two back together.” The older woman smiled at both of them while sidestepping a couple heading for the dance floor.
“We’re n—”
“We’re in the way of the dancers,” Jack inserted smoothly. Then winking at Sandy, said, “See you later, beautiful. Put me on your dance card for something slow and sexy.”
Sandra stood on tiptoes to plant a kiss on Jack’s chin—the only place she could reach. “I’m going to hold you to that, Jack Ryan, and hunt you down like the dog you are if you don’t come looking for me.”
“Too bad I’m a one-woman man,” he said, charming as ever. “I’m too crazy about Mia to stray. But if she ever dumps me, you’ll be the first to know.”
Sandy giggled and Mia mentally rolled her eyes. If he’d loved her maybe, just maybe she might have stayed. With or without a commitment from him. But he’d never given her more of himself than she’d needed to know for the next assignment. He’d kept her shut out of his life beyond the bedroom. Jack loved excitement. He loved danger. He loved the chase. She’d wanted hearth and home—stability. He thrived on the unknown. And she wanted to wake up to see the same face on the pillow beside her every morning. Basically, she wanted predictable and safe.
They were miles apart in every way that counted.
The fact that she’d had predictable and safe for the past eight months and had been bored out of her mind had nothing at all do with anything.
She wasn’t the first woman to go all weak-kneed and melt into a puddle of goo over one of his sexy smiles. Jack had that effect on any female. Damn it.
Patting his broad chest with her fingertips, Sandy shook her head, “You are such a charming liar, Jack, it’s no wonder every woman here adores you.”
I don’t, Mia thought. She may have learned the hard way, but she did, eventually, learn. And when dealing with Jack Ryan, it would pay to remember all those hard-won lessons.
She glanced at him. Tall, dark and dangerous, he was the kind of man who fueled hot sweaty dreams. She should know.
She smiled at Sandy. “Oh honey, you’re so sweet to try to make Jack feel better.”
“Better about what?” Sandy gave Jack a speculative glance.
Mia playfully punched Jack’s arm and managed to get a good pinch in while she was at it. “He’s always been a charmer and now that he’s losing his hair, well, he’s a little self-conscious.”
Jack’s attention was on Mia’s mouth. Mia paid no attention and leaned into Sandy. “He’s in denial.”
“I’ll tell you what I am,” he said mildly, meeting her gaze with a dangerous glint in his blue eyes and a crocodile smile showing brilliantly white teeth.
“Oh honey…I’m sure Sandy doesn’t mind hearing about your…problems.”
“There’s more?” Sandy gasped, eyes twinkling.
“No,” Jack took hold of Mia’s arm. “See you later, beautiful.” He dragged her off through the crowd. “What was that about?” he asked smoothing his thumb up her back in a subtle caress. “Jealousy?”
She snorted softly. “Just trying to remind you that we are not the couple of the social set anymore.” She shrugged Jack’s hand from around her waist. “Don’t pet me, don’t stroke me. We are not together—not now, not ever again. Keep your mind on the job. Got it?”
A muscle in his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed into slits that shot fire. “Got it.”
“I’m serious, Jack.”
“So am I, darling. So am I. Want something to eat?”
He wasn’t losing his hair. Or his appeal, damn it all to hell. One smile from Jack and she was tempted to forget his lack of commitment. One touch of his arm on any part of her body and she was willing to cancel out a future for the promise of a great here and now.
He still had it. In spades. And she was probably in very deep trouble here. So the best thing to do would be to get the job done and get gone. But meanwhile…
“Yes, I’m hungry. Too bad I’m not in that nice restaurant with the ever so charming Davis Sloan. I should’ve known better, shouldn’t I? Nobody is that sensitive, amusing and in tune with someone other than himself.”
“I told you I didn’t lie to you. Everything Davis Sloan said came direct from me.”
He again rested his hand lightly on the small of her back to cross the room to the buffet table.
She wished she could believe him. He’d said so many…nice things in the past couple of weeks. She’d actually reached the point where she’d lunged for the phone when it rang, hoping it would be Davis—Jack. But painful experience warned against trusting him again. Although…as she thought about some of the things he’d said, she looked at him a little differently. Had he really been that lonely little boy, growing up knowing no one wanted him? She refused to be swayed by a vulnerability he no longer possessed. “Why Jack? Why bother playing this elaborate game? Why not just call me and say, hey, we need you for a job?”
“You would’ve said no.”
“Exactly my point. Freedom of choice.”
“You’re the best.”
“Was the best.”
“Still are, darling.” He dipped his head and whispered in her ear. “Together we were unstoppable, in every way, and you know it.”
Pride and pleasure slid down her spine. Probably not a good sign.
“Anyway,” Jack said briskly, “we’re here now. Are you going to bitch all night?”
She cocked her head as if giving it some thought. “I might.”
He almost smiled. “Fair enough. Do this and you can bitch to your heart’s content.”
“Gee, thanks. Since when we’re finished, you won’t be around to hear me.”
They were briefly separated by a laughing foursome, but Mia distinctly heard him mutter, “Don’t bank on it, sweetheart. Don’t bank on it.”
Fine. Jack always had his own agenda. Just because she’d once loved his agendas and everything else about him, didn’t mean she still did. She was immune now. Eight months of celibacy had been just what the doctor ordered. Regular sex with Jack had clouded her mind.
Damned if she didn’t miss that cloud sometimes.
“They have that imported smoked salmon you like,” he said scanning the long table.
“I don’t eat it anymore. Makes me break out.” Mia grabbed a gold-rimmed plate and started loading it with roast beef and small mushrooms. The last time she’d eaten salmon Jack had fed it to her between long bouts of insanely acrobatic lovemaking on the beach one hot summer night. Salmon made her break out with regret. Very bad for her mental health.
There were too many people to make a private conversation possible or advisable and they were forced to greet dozens of people while they searched for somewhere to sit. “There?” he asked, indicating a wide window seat just vacated.
“Sure.” She wanted a glass of South African wine, maybe two—three would be better. She wanted to be in a well-lit restaurant with Davis Sloan, the man she’d thought she was seeing—Stop it, Mia. Just get over it. While Jack’s methods sucked, and her mother was going to be blackballed for quite a while, the reason Mia was here was valid.
She was the best.
She’d do this one last job with her old partner and then she’d be done.
There was no need to talk. They’d worked together enough times to know the drill. As much as she didn’t want to be here, her natural instincts had come back into sharp focus—almost as if she’d never left the agency. As if she and Ryan were still the best team in undercover work.
The house was overflowing with guests. The doors, conveniently left open wide to dispel the body heat, also made it much easier to do a little second-story work. The converted mansions that comprised Embassy Row dated to the turn of the twentieth century. They were similarly laid out and Mia knew the floor plans as well as she knew her way around the local Hecht’s Department store. Tuxedo-clad undercover agents guarded the entrances and exits to the building, mandatory in the terrorist climate of the times. But she knew that the security force was there to keep people out, not monitor people within.
Mia slid her plate onto a half-round table against the wall.
“Ready?”
He gave her a heavy-lidded look. “Always.”