Always On Her Mind: Playing for Keeps / To Tame a Cowboy / All He Ever Wanted. Emily McKay
went dark with guilt, his hand gravitating to her face until he cupped her cheek. “I should have protected you better.”
“We both should have been more responsible.” She put her hand over his without thinking, her body going on autopilot around him as it always had, whether with touches or with music.
In less than a day, they’d fallen right back into the synchronicity they’d shared before, and God, that scared her spitless. She’d dated other men—slept with other men—but being with them never had this sense of ease. Already, she felt herself swaying toward him as his body leaned into hers.
Magnetic.
His hand still held her face, the calluses on his fingers familiar, a reminder of the countless hours he devoted to playing the guitar. Music hummed through her now, the sound of the two of them occupying the same space.
Her lips parted in anticipation—
The doorbell rang.
She jolted back as it rang again. How had she missed someone coming up outside?
Malcolm stood, his hand sliding away, then coming back to stroke her jaw once again. “That’s dinner.” He frowned. “And my phone.”
He pulled his cell from his pocket.
“Supper?” she parroted, surprised she could even speak at all. She vaguely recalled him mentioning sending his driver/bodyguard for food. He had a whole staff at his disposal day and night, another reminder of how different their worlds were these days.
On his way to check the door, Malcolm said over his shoulder, “My chauffeur will set everything up while I take this call. All I need is a blanket and pillow for the sofa.”
Before she could answer, he’d opened the door, waving his driver inside and stepping outside with his phone. Clearly, he didn’t want her to hear his conversation. Which made her wonder a little about what he had to say.
And wonder a lot about who he said it to.
How the hell had he almost kissed her?
Malcolm gripped the wooden rails of Celia’s small balcony landing just outside her front door. With ragged breaths, he drew in muggy night air as he listened to his driver setting up dinner inside. Bodyguards were stationed in the yard below and outside the brick-wall fence.
Malcolm’s cell phone continued to buzz, and he knew he had to answer. And he would return the call—as soon as his heart rate settled back to normal.
He’d come here to make amends with Celia. To put his feelings of guilt to rest by helping her now like he couldn’t before.
Where did sex factor into that?
It didn’t. It hadn’t. Until he’d seen her again.
These days he had control over his libido, enjoying healthy, safe relationships. He’d sure as hell never forgotten to put on a condom ever again. But he knew protecting Celia was about more than safe sex. That wouldn’t keep either of them safe from the heartache of resurrecting something that was long done.
Plucking his phone from his pocket, he thumbed Redial and waited for Colonel John Salvatore to answer. His old headmaster from boarding school.
Now his Interpol handler. The man had traded in a uniform for a closet full of gray suits worn with a red tie.
“Salvatore here,” his longtime mentor answered in clipped tones, gravelly from years of barking military orders.
“Calling you back, sir. Any word on Celia Patel’s vehicle?”
“I checked the local department’s report and they lifted prints, but with so many students in the school, there are dozens of different impressions.”
His frustration ratcheted up. “And the security cameras?”
“Nothing concrete, but we did pinpoint the time the flyer was placed on the vehicle. We just couldn’t see who did it. Kids were on lunch break, and a large group passed in front of the camera. Once they cleared, the flyer was under the wiper.”
Malcolm scanned the street beyond the brick security wall, monitoring the lazy traffic for warning signs. “So whoever placed it there appears to be cognizant of the school’s surveillance system.”
“Apparently. One of my people is in between assignments and agreed to look into it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Salvatore oversaw a group of freelance agents and field operatives, mostly comprised of former students. People who knew how to push the boundaries. Individuals with high-profile day jobs that allowed them to move in influential circles for gathering intelligence.
Except, today Malcolm needed Salvatore’s help, and as much as he hated to ask anyone for anything, when it came to Celia … well, apparently he still had a weak spot. “I have a favor to ask.”
“With what?” Salvatore answered without hesitation.
“I need an untraceable car and some ID delivered here tonight.” A safeguard in place to escape with Celia in the morning, just in case his gut feeling played out. He’d learned to trust his gut.
“Not that I’m arguing, but just curious,” Salvatore said drily. Nothing had gotten by the old guy when he’d been headmaster, either. “Why not have your personal detail take care of that? You’ve got a top-notch team.”
In fact, some of them were former agents.
“This is too important.” Celia was too important. “If it were just me, I could take care of myself. But with someone drawing a target on Celia’s back …”
His fist thumped the railing, words choking on the dread in the back of his throat.
“Fair enough.” The questions ended there. The two of them worked that tightly together with that kind of faith. “Whatever you need, it’s yours.”
“Thanks. I owe you.” More than he could ever repay.
Colonel John Salvatore had become his father figure. The only real father figure he’d ever known, since his biological dad cut out on his family in the middle of the night, moving on to play his next honky-tonk gig. The bastard had sent a birthday card from the Florida Keys when Malcolm turned eleven. He never heard from him again.
“Malcolm,” Salvatore continued, “I can put security in place for her here in the States so you can go ahead with your tour without worries.”
“She’s safer with me.”
Salvatore’s chuckle echoed over the line. “You don’t trust her to anyone else. Are you sure you trust yourself with her?”
God, he hated how easily Salvatore could read him.
“With all due respect, sir, the word games aren’t necessary. I would do anything to keep her safe. Anything.” His eyes scanned the small patio garden beside her carriage house with flowers blooming in splashes of purples and pinks. He recognized the lavender she used to love. His mother would have known the names of them all. Some were planted in the ground, others in pots. A fountain had been built into the stone wall, a wrought-iron chair and small table beside it. One chair. She sat there alone.
He didn’t have any right to wonder about who she saw. But he couldn’t deny he was glad she hadn’t added a chair for her principal buddy yet.
Salvatore pressed, “What if I decide you’re needed elsewhere?”
“Don’t ask me to make the choice,” he snapped.
“Apparently you’ve already decided.”
“I have.” Celia’s safety would come first, even if it meant alienating Salvatore. Malcolm just hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “Sir, I’m curious as to why the reports on Celia were incomplete.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he