Honeymoon With A Stranger. Frances Housden
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Название: Honeymoon With A Stranger
Автор: Frances Housden
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежные детективы
isbn: 9781472035295
isbn:
The identity of the fourth man.
IBIS had identified the owner of the house, Monsieur Victoire Sevarin, deputy minister of France’s Department of Defense.
No matter how deeply some internal security agencies scrutinized the backgrounds of their employees, one rotten apple always managed to taint the whole barrel.
Sevarin’s had been the hand that controlled France’s biotech weapons research. Who better to acquire Green Shield than the man who was supposed to control its destruction?
One problem solved, a thousand to go.
Already aware of Sevarin, Thierry’s priorities took an oblique angle. “Who was the girl?”
He gave Thierry all the information he had, which didn’t include her surname. How to explain that the blood running hot in his veins had put a little thing like surnames out of his mind.
It wasn’t the type of information Mac wanted to get around.
Back in the attic, Mac locked the door, with no one the wiser that he’d been gone. Quickly discarding his clothes, he padded over to the bed and slid under the pile of quilts covering Roxie.
As soon as his body hit the mattress, the extra weight sent her rolling toward him. She snuggled against him without waking. Then wrapped around him, tangling her legs with his as if they always slept that way.
It was a long night.
Roxie’s head rested serenely on his chest as the sky began to turn from blue-black to gray. He hadn’t slept, but that was something he was used to. It hadn’t taken him long to discover she’d ditched the T-shirt she’d been wearing in the half hour he’d been gone. Now the soft swell of her lace-covered breasts presented him with a tease he didn’t dare respond to.
He was totally firm about that in his mind.
His body had no such scruples.
Mac discovered when it came to Roxie, no amount of reciting times tables or logarithms could suppress the erection lying between them. It pressed into the welcoming curve of her belly as if it had a mind of its own.
As soon as the sun came up, he would leave her in bed and treat his libido to a cold shower, since that looked like being the only reprimand it understood.
Chapter 5
Bars of pale watery sunlight slipped through the bars on the window, painting stripes on the faded blue quilt covering Roxie.
Memory hit her the moment she opened her eyes and surveyed her prison. She leapt out of bed, checking her watch.
It was 8:00 a.m. and she was alone.
Roxie glanced down at the lacy camisole revealing her breasts, and from it to the little-boy short panties that matched. The T-shirt she’d gone to bed in was on the floor, and she couldn’t remember taking it off, but at least she was halfway decent.
It took several moments more to recall the camera that watched her every move, and less time than that to pick up the black T-shirt and pull it over her head.
Trying not to glance the camera’s way, she ran her palm across the rumpled sheets on the other side of the bed. There was still a dent in the feather pillow from Mac’s head.
The sheets were still warm. Almost as warm as the memory of the act she’d put on the night before.
She could hear the shower running on the other side of the bathroom door. Hoping Mac was discreetly tucked behind its curtain as she dashed to the bathroom, with a perfunctory knock she dived through the door without waiting for a reply.
Eyes closed, Roxie leaned back against the coat she’d left hanging from the hook, to catch her breath.
It must have been Mac leaving the bed they were sharing that wakened her, since he couldn’t have been showering long, for the steam still hadn’t filled the bathroom.
She could see Mac’s tall shape through the opaque plastic curtain, the top of his head level with the curtain rail.
Although his outline was blurred, she made out that it tapered nicely from shoulder to waist, six-pack abs but no unnecessary mass to his muscles.
Heat scored her cheekbones as she remembered curving her hand round his arm while pressing against his chest. But she had no time to dwell on the memory as Mac asked, “Come to join me?”
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