Irresistible Deceptions Page 6

  Rhy’s lips twitched in a smile when her stomach growled. “When was the last time you ate?”

  Slight color stained her cheekbones, and she shrugged. “Yesterday sometime.”

  “Then you should be able to choke something down.” He nodded his head in the direction of the stairs. “At the end of the hall upstairs is a spare bedroom. There’s an attached bath so we won’t be disturbing each other. I can give you the guided tour, or you can look around yourselves while I order us some dinner. Italian okay? A place around the corner delivers.”

  “That’s fine, thanks.”

  Nicky dipped her head, appearing almost shy now that they’d apparently slipped into an undeclared truce. She reached for her bag. Their fingers brushed, and the hair on his arms sprang to attention. Her head jerked up as if she, too, experienced the subtle sizzle at the point of contact. Brightening color bloomed on her cheeks. She snatched the bag from him and tucked the duffel against her chest like a shield. Her nose scrunched up in an adorable wrinkle and confusion hazed the green of her eyes. “It’s long past Alex’s bedtime, and I’d like to clean up a little if you don’t mind. How long do I have?”

  Rhy shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “About half an hour. There are clean towels and toiletries in the hall closet. Second door on the left. If you need anything else, call out.”

  She nodded and, holding her son’s hand, made her way up the stairs. Of their own accord, Rhy’s eyes followed the seductive sway of her hips. He pursed his lips and blew out a silent breath. No doubt about it. The General’s daughter had a fine ass and a walk designed to conquer the male mind. She paused at the landing to glance over her shoulder.

  Caught red-handed, he bumped his chin up and curved his mouth in a lame smile. She spun around, and they disappeared down the hall.

  Great, McLean. Just great.

  Rolling his eyes heavenward, Rhy stalked to the kitchen. In a drawer next to the sink, he searched the stack of takeout menus until he found the one for Antonelli’s. As he punched in the number of the family-owned restaurant, his mind insisted on replaying the sight of Nicky climbing the stairs to his spare bedroom.

  “Get a grip, pal,” he muttered just before Antonelli answered his call.

  Several minutes later, Rhy hung up, assured two orders of chicken marsala with homemade angel-hair pasta would be delivered within the hour. He cocked his head at the gurgle of water rushing through the pipes inside the old walls and ground his teeth.

  This situation already had him jacked up far beyond what was good for him. Imagining her in the shower was a bad idea, but suddenly he found it difficult to concentrate on something other than his unwanted houseguest. That difficulty disturbed him tremendously.

  There was no denying she was beautiful. The combination of exotic eyes, full mouth, subtly seductive curves, and libido-teasing walk was enough to make a grown man throw back his head and howl. Though fiercely attracted, he’d be damned if he was going to do anything about it. He’d learned his lesson with Pamela, and this was business. He’d be smart to remember that.

  He’d be even smarter to go back to thinking of her as a coldhearted thief, capable of swindling several million dollars from a man she married but never loved. Maybe then he could ignore the not-so-subtle urgings of his body telling him here was a woman who’d fit into his arms as though she were made specifically with him in mind.

  The shower cut off upstairs. He scowled down at his white-knuckled fingers gripping the edge of the counter.

  Shit.

  Rhy shoved off the counter and crossed to the refrigerator, flexing his digits until the tightness receded. Pulling a beer from the bottom shelf, he twisted off the cap and downed half the contents. The cold brew didn’t help. His mind’s eye still presented a clear picture of the woman upstairs and what she was doing this very minute.

  “Down boy,” he muttered as his cock twitched in his slacks.

  He shot an annoyed glance at the ceiling. The papers in his office desk named Nicky as exactly the kind of woman he detested. They painted the picture of a woman interested only in her pocketbook. Because of his experience with his ex-wife, he hadn’t questioned Everson’s claims, but Senator Hawley hadn’t risen to the top of the political ladder by being a bad judge of character.

  Hawley had called Nicky loyal and honorable. Those were hardly the traits of a woman who had done what those papers claimed. Late-day bristle scraped at the palm Rhy dragged over his face. Had he been played by a prick with an ax to grind against his ex, or was Rhy searching for a reason to believe he’d been wrong about her because his cock was doing his thinking? Neither scenario sat well with him, but his gut pointed to the first as the truth.

  Everson had used Rhy’s bitterness to get him to do his dirty work, and anxious to put the debt he owed the man behind him and call it even, Rhy had readily agreed. With the release of the disk and the truth of Everson’s dealings, the scale had tipped far in the other direction.

  As for Nicky, there might be more to her than Rhy first thought, but she still wasn’t for him. No woman was, other than for a quick fling, and under the circumstances, a fling would only further complicate an already fucked-up job. The important thing was finding Everson. He would pay, and pay dearly, for making a fool of Rhy, but more importantly, for Brian. Senator Hawley was right. Nicky’s determination to free herself and her son from her arms-dealing ex, once and for all, was the key to bringing down Everson.

  A twinge of guilt itched along the back of Rhy’s neck. Unfortunately, this itch was one he couldn’t afford to scratch. In exchange for using them as bait, he’d make sure they all got what they sought. He’d see to it she and her son were safe and sound, avenge Brian’s death, and make sure Everson never hurt anyone again.

  Chapter Seven

  Condensation left a ring of moisture on the surface of the table as Rhy lifted the beer to his mouth. Across from him, Nicky sipped daintily from her own bottle. As he had for the last half hour, he gave her puckered lips far too much attention for his own good. Heat simmered low in his gut. He stood abruptly and jutted his chin in the direction of her half-full plate. “You done with that?”

  She lowered the bottle to the table and nodded. “Thanks. It was delicious.”

  Rhy grunted, removing her plate along with his to the sink. He dumped the scraps of her meal into the disposal. Behind him, the slight scrape of her chair rasped along nerve endings heightened with awareness. He cursed beneath his breath. What the hell was wrong with him? But for those times his body demanded a quick release, the urge for sex had been a rare occurrence over the past four years. Nothing in Nicky’s reluctant attitude or straightforward comments could be considered a come-on, so what was it about her that made his imagination continuously veer off topic toward thoughts of tangled sheets and hot sex?

  Shit. He hadn’t been so physically worked up over a woman since he hit puberty and anything in a skirt set his hormones on fire. Fire, hell. His hormones were in danger of a meltdown. It was as if the air around her sparked with come-and-get-me-big-boy electrodes. His cock was more than willing to answer the sensual call.

  Nicky’s hand appeared at the edge of his vision as she returned the salt and pepper shakers to their place on the counter. His stomach muscles clenched. Long and slender with unadorned nails, her fingers closed around the sponge at the corner of the sink. She dipped her hand under the running water before quickly stepping away again.

  Rhy glanced over his shoulder. Oblivious to the maelstrom of lust roiling in his gut, her slender body dipped and swayed as she mopped up the surface of the table as if the two of them performing the domestic ritual of cleanup after a meal were an ordinary occurrence. He frowned and flipped the switch over the sink. The harsh grating of the disposal dispelled the odd sense of rightness the scene conjured.

  The sponge appeared on the counter at his elbow. He took refuge in wiping out the sink and let the disposal run longer than was genuinely necessary. When she finall
y wandered from the room, the air temperature dropped a good ten degrees.

  Rhy left the darkened kitchen several minutes later. In the den, she absently studied the titles on a shelf of books. He propped one shoulder against the doorframe and sipped at his beer.

  After settling Alex in bed and taking her shower, Nicky had come downstairs more closely resembling the captain of the cheering squad than the mother of a four-year-old. Dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, the silky strands swished against the collar of her pale peach sweater with each movement of her head. Another pair of faded jeans offered him an unrestricted view of the sweetest, inverted-heart-shaped ass he’d ever had the opportunity to ogle.

  Not that he was ogling. Okay, he was ogling. But what was a guy supposed to do? He dismissed the hard-on he’d been sporting since she climbed the stairs. His body’s reaction had nothing to do with her in particular. She was a fine-looking female. Sometimes a guy just couldn’t help himself.

  As though sensing his presence, Nicky glanced over her shoulder. With a negligent shrug, he pushed away from the doorframe to continue into the room and wandered to the couch. Since she had spoken no more than a handful of words since she came downstairs to eat, Rhy was surprised when she immediately began firing questions.

  “You said you aren’t currently connected with Jonathan. That implies you were at one time. You were in Afghanistan together. What about since?”

  He propped a hip against the oversized leather couch in the center of the room. He might have begun to question the validity of those documents, but the truth wouldn’t help him track down Everson any time soon. As suspicious as she was, he needed to tread lightly. Given the time to clarify the scope of his association with Everson, he was sure he could allay her suspicions, but would she give him the chance to explain? He didn’t think so.

  “I can guarantee you I had nothing to do with his illegal arms activities.”

  She narrowed her eyes, and he braced for an inquisition. No telling what was going through her head, but she’d been on the run for five years. A person didn’t pull that off by being stupid or overly trusting.

  She crossed her arms. “Let me rephrase the question, McLean. What exactly was your connection with him?”

  Rhy wasn’t used to having his actions questioned and didn’t care for the experience, but the stubborn tilt of Nicky’s chin said she wouldn’t back down until she was satisfied with his reply. The security specialist in him knew a certain amount of give-and-take was necessary if they were to work together successfully. Therefore, he’d give her what he could. The man, however, couldn’t resist the opportunity to rattle her a little first.

  He matched her stance, arms crossed. “Rhy.”

  “Excuse me?” That sexy wrinkle puckered her nose as she stared at him.

  “My name is Rhy.” He arched a brow and bit back a pleased smile. “I figure since we’re living together, we should be on a first-name basis.” At the narrowing of her beautiful eyes, he cocked his head in challenge. “You want answers, that’s my price.”

  He almost laughed out loud when her lips twisted mulishly and she spoke through gritted teeth. “Fine. Rhy. Now answer the question.”

  Relaxing his pose, he dropped his hands to the back of the couch beside his hips. As victories went, her saying his name was pitiful, but in a battle of wills, every victory counted. He fought a satisfied grin and chose his words carefully. “We’ve crossed paths a couple of times since coming back stateside. DC is a smaller town than most people think. The type of work I do brings me into contact with some powerful people, especially since nine-eleven. Your ex-husband moves in the same circles. On several occasions he showed up at the same events as our clients.”

  “Were these events political or social?”

  He lifted one shoulder in a quick shrug. “In this town, they’re usually one and the same.”

  Nicky nodded but continued to watch him. Arms folded, she waited.

  He leaned into the couch, crossing his feet at the ankles. “Our connection goes back to Afghanistan. Your ex-husband took out a sniper who had a group of us pinned down in a small mountain village.”

  The explanation came short of admitting Everson had saved his life, but the omission didn’t matter. The truth was the truth, and having been indebted to Everson in any way pissed him off. He drained his forgotten beer, hoping to cool the burn of fury.

  “Knowing Jonathan, I’m surprised he never called in what he’d consider a debt.”

  Rhy grunted, thankful he hadn’t choked at her direct hit. Shrugging noncommittally, he stepped around the couch and set aside the empty bottle.

  “What about you?” He sat and steered the conversation in another direction. “You were only married for what, a year? You were practically newlyweds. What makes a bride walk away from her groom?”

  Her shoulders stiffened, but Nicky held his gaze. “Learning she’s married to a monster who has stolen her dreams and replaced them with nightmares.”

  The raw passion in her response made him wince. “You didn’t know about his illegal activities?”

  She studied him silently for a long moment. He assumed she searched for accusation, but the truth was, he was curious. Finally, she sighed. “I didn’t know. Not at first, at least. Not until much later.”

  Rhy nodded and toed off the boat shoes he’d change into along with jeans and a sweatshirt while waiting for their meals to arrive. Propping his bare feet on the coffee table, he relaxed back into the soft leather.

  She moved around the low table and sat at the far end of the long couch. Unlike him, Nicky didn’t sit back. The rigid line of her back telegraphed her continued tension.

  “My father introduced us.” Her clear green gaze cut to his. “Everson Plastics had just won a substantial military contract. Jonathan was the company’s liaison with the Pentagon. Dad was introduced to him at a dinner party given by Congressman Burke. Having been one of the staunchest supporters of our presence in Afghanistan, Congressman Burke couldn’t say enough about Jonathan’s distinguished service. Dad was understandably impressed a man with Jonathan’s financial and political connections would put off taking his rightful place in the family business to serve his country.”

  And used his time in the service of his country to line up the contacts for his illegal operations. Rhy held back a jeering snort. According to the information on the disk, Everson had done business with some of the very same radicals Rhy and his fellow troops had faced in the mountains of Afghanistan. The General’s friendship with Senator Hawley aside, it must have galled the fuck out of Nicky’s father to be sitting on such a powder keg and have to hold his tongue.

  Nicky glanced away. “Jonathan took full advantage of Dad’s approval by finagling an invitation to our annual Labor Day barbecue the next weekend, and Dad couldn’t resist playing Cupid. Jonathan was charming, fun, and handsome.” She shook her head. “I was nineteen, little more than a girl, and fell head over heels. When he asked me to marry him two months later, it was as if I were living a fairy tale come true.

  “The first six months were…” Her chest rose on a deep breath before she shot Rhy a sidelong glance. Self-disgust darkened her eyes, as if she was repulsed at the idea of admitting to any kind of pleasure in connection with a man she’d come to loathe.

  “But then I started to notice things. More and more often, strange men came to the house. They were the type of men I wouldn’t have expected Jonathan to know, much less associate with. He kept strange hours. He was out until late in the evening, late enough I knew whatever he was doing had nothing to do with Everson Plastics business. Then he began to travel.

  “When I first asked him about the trips, he laughed off my questions. He teased me about being a jealous wife. The next time I asked, he didn’t laugh. He got angry instead. Very angry.” Nicky’s shoulders moved in a delicate shudder and a heavy sense of unease settled in Rhy’s chest.

  “He said the jealous act was getting old. His reaction was so unlike
his usually laid-back manner, I didn’t question him again, but I began to watch, and I listened. Something was off. I had no way of knowing where he went on his secretive trips, but I began a list of names of the men who called or visited the house. One day I overheard a conversation I wasn’t meant to, and what I heard explained a lot. My husband wasn’t in plastics. He was in arms. Illegal arms.”

  Rhy’s gaze followed the stiff movement of her arms as she folded them around her middle as if chilled.

  “I waited until we were getting ready for bed that night to tell him what I’d overheard. I told him I understood. Sometimes people make mistakes, and suddenly things are spiraling beyond their control. I told him I loved him. I’d stand by him and help him break away from the dangerous people he’d gotten caught up with. I was foolish enough to still believe in fairy tales. As far as I was concerned, I’d married a genuinely good man who had somehow fallen in with the wrong people and simply didn’t know how to get out of the situation.”

  Rhy’s gaze narrowed on her right hand, sliding up her arm and over her shoulder to burrow jerkily beneath the open collar of her sweater. Her fingertips rubbed repeatedly over the same spot on her neck.

  When Nicky spoke again, her harsh tone was a raw facsimile of her usually mild voice. “After that night, I no longer believed in fairy tales.”

  For long moments, they were both silent. She stared into space as her slim fingers massaged the pale skin of her neck. He tried not to picture the damage a man’s hands could do to the delicately slender column.

  Disgust curled in his gut. “So you left him?”

  She started then dropped her hand until her fingers were wrapped around the opposite arm once again. “The next morning.”

  “It must have been tough, leaving with a small baby in tow.”

  Haunted shadows clouded her eyes when they skittered in his direction.

  “I didn’t have a small baby in tow. I left several weeks before I discovered I was pregnant.” Standing abruptly, Nicky crossed the room to the French doors. She stood silent for a moment. When she turned her head, her eyes were once more devoid of emotion, as was her voice. “Paul’s interview should be starting any minute. I need to watch.”