The Royal Spy's Redemption. Addison Fox

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СКАЧАТЬ his eyes. The man was compelling, no doubt about it. And when she finally figured out what she thought about that, there was no doubt she’d mention Knox to her grandmother.

      In the meantime, she acknowledged his words. “No. I don’t omit anything with my grandmother. She’s the one I talk to about anything and everything.”

      But she hadn’t mentioned the rubies.

      She dropped the last rolled tortilla into the tray before wiping her hands. Although her grandmother was a vault, the story of the Renaissance Stones hadn’t been hers to tell. It wasn’t omission so much as privacy.

      And a very real fear that by talking about them she’d bring the same danger to her family’s door that had already been laid on her friends.

      * * *

      Richard Moray hunched down in his car and scanned his phone, plotting out his next move. The device carried the absolute latest in government encryption software and he’d added a few tweaks of his own. Even if someone back at HQ had wanted to track him, all of its data continued to transmit as if he were sitting at his desk in London, bright and early Greenwich Mean Time.

      He was an early riser—everyone knew it. Besides, no one was tracking him. He’d covered his plans well—webs woven within webs—and he’d spent his life cultivating a personality that was part civil servant, part Security Service cheerleader and part purveyor of justice.

      But he was always—always—100 percent for queen and country.

      Until bloody Knox St. Germain started digging beneath the facade. He’d hired the damn boy, for the love of all that was holy. Hell, even for that which wasn’t. He’d trained him and ensured the Manchester street rat had a future. And Knox had turned on him.

      Moray rubbed at his knee, the hasty tourniquet nearly as uncomfortable as the grazed flesh. Oh, how his protégé had turned.

      Moray flipped through the web pages he’d already bookmarked, including the catering shop owned by one Gabriella Sanchez. Taste the Moment. The sultry dark-haired beauty smiled back at him from the web page, and he fought the small shot of interest that sparked at her beautiful face. She was a siren, no doubt about it. But that long mane of curly hair and the thick, lush lips were a distraction, nothing more.

      She was helping Knox.

      Although, if he knew his boy, he also knew Knox was a sucker for a pretty face.

      Moray glanced down at the image once more, considering how he might use this to his advantage. He’d been focused on circumventing Gabriella, pulling Knox away from her business to get him out in the open.

      Perhaps he needed to rethink his strategy.

      Ignoring the throbbing in his knee, Moray tapped into the architectural plans for the area. The work of a few keystrokes, he marveled to himself as he caught sight of a slow-moving police cruiser in the rearview mirror. He cycled through what he already knew of Gabriella and her family and realized the answer was nearly in front of him. Never one to miss an opportunity, he went to work.

      With a hard shove, he pushed on his car door and fell to the ground.

      * * *

      Gabby finished stuffing the last of the enchiladas and had put Knox to work at the sink washing her pans. Admittedly, she was surprised when he’d said yes to the job.

      Even more admittedly, she’d admired the sculpted fit of his cargo pants over slim hips and a high, tight ass as he worked over the sink. It was late, and he was the one who’d made himself at home. The least she could get out of this entire situation was a chance to enjoy the view.

      When he stiffened, she was pulled from her thoughts. “Is your shoulder okay?”

      He shot her a grin over his good shoulder. “Nice of you to ask me now, sweetheart. I just finished the last pan.”

      “Just because I want you to earn your keep doesn’t mean I’m not concerned.”

      His smile never wavered as he turned back to the sink and flipped off the tap. “Whatever helps you sleep, love.”

      She ignored the endearments—she would not be affected by the patter of a serial dater—and snorted as she covered the last pan with foil. “I sleep just fine. And will sleep even better knowing I conquered five pans of enchiladas.”

      The task had gone quicker with his help, and as she rubbed the tension out of her lower back she had to admit it had been nice to have company beyond the radio or one of her telenovelas she kept perpetually recorded on the kitchen DVR.

      “I’ll be out of your hair soon. Go ahead home, and I’ll take the cot in your office.”

      “I told you I’d see you through until morning.”

      “So share the cot with me.”

      The thought struck so hard—so deep and low in her belly—Gabby had to catch her breath. She would like to take him up on that all-too-enticing offer more than she could describe.

      And far more than she’d even realized.

      Admiring a well-sculpted body was one thing. Contemplating sleeping with said body was another matter entirely.

      Quickly tamping down on the images that flooded her mind’s eye of the two of them entwined on her small sleep cot, she didn’t miss the sexy blue gaze that zeroed in on her from the sink. “We’ll just sleep.”

      “You are running a fever.”

      “Of a sort.”

      The desire that edged his gaze was heady, and she felt herself being reeled in by the hot body, the late hour and the attraction she’d already fought for a few days now.

      Fighting the urge for all of the above, she walked the large pan toward the fridge and resolutely kept her gaze from his. She would not spar with him on this. It was self-preservation, she promised herself as she pulled open the door and allowed the cool air to flow over her heated skin.

      Yep. Self-preservation.

      She’d nearly had herself convinced when that sultry voice of his—lilting with the devil’s own music—whispered in her ear. “You’re not curious?”

      “No.”

      She meant to sidestep the advance. Truly, she did. But as the heat of his body covered her back and the heat of his words filled her, something inside her simply rooted her feet to the spot.

      “Not even a bit?”

      “No.”

      He didn’t touch her, but she felt his body move a fraction of an inch closer. “You sure?”

      The urge to close the gap between their bodies nearly overwhelmed her; the mix of cool air at her front and hot, wicked heat at her back was nearly her undoing.

      It was only the hard rap at the back door that had her coming out of the trance he’d woven around her.

      “Who the bloody hell is that?” Before she could even turn around, СКАЧАТЬ