She closed her iPad. “Just so we’re clear, I’m here for safety’s sake. Not for sex.”
God, the spark in her eyes made him hot. Although now might not be the best time to point that out.
“Can’t be much clearer than that.”
“Good. Now where are we going?”
“Monte Carlo.”
“Monte Carlo?” she squeaked, her composure slipping. “What about passports?”
“Taken care of. If you recall, when the CIA first questioned you, they required you to turn over your passport to ensure you wouldn’t flee the country. Now that you’re in the clear, you can have it back. We’ll make a brief refueling stop in D.C.—your passport is already there waiting to be picked up.” While Hillary talked, he pulled out his phone and typed instructions to his assistant and Salvatore to make sure her passport would be there.
“And what about clothes for me to be gone that long? Appropriate for that locale and weather?”
“Got it covered.” He dashed off another text to his assistant before tucking his phone back inside his suit.
“You were that confident I would join you? I’m not sure I like being that predictable.”
“Hillary, you are anything but predictable.” He scooped up his hat and dropped it on her head, sliding his fingers along the brim.
“Why Monte Carlo?”
“Why not?” He tugged her by the hand to sit on the sofa beside him. He flicked the seat belt toward her and they both buckled in for takeoff.
“Do you live your life that way?” She touched his hat self-consciously. “With a perpetual why not?”
“Works for me.” Right now, he was living for the day he saw her wearing that hat and nothing else.
“Why Monte Carlo?” she repeated.
Because he had backup there, and he needed help from someone he could trust. Sometimes, the brotherhood reached out to each other, without Salvatore in the mix. This would be one of those times.
Of all his military school friends, Conrad Hughes, the very first person he’d met on the first day of school, would understand how a woman messed with a man’s head. Conrad wouldn’t judge. “I’m touching base with a friend who can help cover our tracks. Ever been to Monte Carlo?”
She took off his hat and dropped it on his lap. “I went to Atlantic City once.”
“Did you like it?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Then you’re in for a treat beyond anything the Tooth Fairy would shove under your pillow.” He put his hat on, tugged it over his eyes and stretched out to nap.
Six
Monte Carlo was everything she’d imagined—and more.
They’d landed at an oceanside private airstrip near the Ports de Monaco, where a limo awaited them. A thrilling ride later, along the Mediterranean coastline, they’d arrived at a casino that overlooked a rocky cove and packed marina. The beige stucco resort, while clearly pristinely new, had a historical design with Roman columns and arches, statues and sculptures spotlighted in the moonless dark.
Deep inside, there were no windows, but plenty of lights so bright it was impossible to tell day from night. Troy walked through without stopping at the check-in desk. She didn’t bother asking questions. She’d already seen how regular rules didn’t seem to apply to him.
The air was filled with the cacophony of machines, bells, whistles and gambling calls, but more than that, she heard music, laughter and the splash of a mammoth fountain. Her high heels clicked along the marble mosaic tiles as she and Troy weaved through the crush of vacationers. A mix of languages came at her from all directions, a little like mingling in some of the D.C. parties she’d planned.
Except eyes followed them here. People whispered and pointed, recognizing Troy Donavan.
He pulled off his signature hat. “Let’s try our luck once before we head up. Your choice. Cards? Roulette? Slots?”
Exhaustion took a backseat to excitement. Monte Carlo had been in her top ten fantasy places to visit as a kid. She’d researched it, dreaming of James Bond and Grace Kelly. But photos and movies and tabloids just didn’t capture the vivid colors, clashing sounds, exotic scents. She’d even fantasized about a fascinating man on her arm, and the reality on that count far surpassed any dreams.
“I’m a little underdressed for cards or roulette.” She swept her hands down her jeans.
“You’re welcome anywhere I say you are.”
Ooooh-kay. “I’m good with a slot machine.”
“Fair enough.” He guided her to a line of looming machines with high leather bar stools in front.
He offered his hand as she settled in place. Tokens? She’d totally forgotten about getting—
A woman in uniform stopped beside them, smiling at Troy. “Bonjour, Mr. Donavan,” she said in heavily accented English. She passed him a leather pouch. “Compliments of the house. Mr. Hughes sends his regards.”
“Merci, mademoiselle.” He opened the pouch and Hillary caught a glimpse of tokens, chips, key cards and cash. He pulled out a fistful of tokens and extended his open palm to Hillary.
“Only one token, thanks. For luck before we go to our rooms to freshen up.”
Hillary plucked a single coin from his hand and hitched up into the chair. Ching, she set the lights flashing and waited for the results…. Troy stood behind her, leaning in ever so slightly until his bay rum scent mixed with the perfume of live flowers.
She’d given up trying to understand how she could still be so drawn to, so aware of, a man she knew led a secret life and wouldn’t hesitate to stretch the truth if he thought it was “for her own good.” Here she was in Monte Carlo and all she could think about was how glad she was to be here with Troy. For the moment, at least, she would embrace the adventure. She would revel in the sensations and refuse to let herself get too attached.
The slot machine ended on a losing note, and she didn’t even care. She was here, and her nerves all tingled as if she’d hit a jackpot.
Chemistry. What a crazy thing.
She smiled over her shoulder at him, which brought their mouths so close. She could see the widening of his pupils, see every detail of the scar through his eyebrow. Her breathing grew heavier but she couldn’t seem to control the betraying reaction that gave away just how much she wanted his mouth on hers again. She froze, waiting for him to make a move….
He simply smiled and stepped back, offering his hand for her to slide from the high bar stool.