Another Side Of Midnight

I could have knocked him on his ass, had him flat on his back in less than a heartbeat. That’s what I told myself, anyway. But I didn’t because, knowing Stone, he’d have thought it was foreplay.

“Let me go.”

“I did that once and didn’t much care for it.”

I laughed harshly, not about to fall under the spell of that sexy brogue. “You’ve got it backwards, Stone. You’re the one who left.”

“I know. Believe me, I didn’t want to.” When I pushed away he didn’t stop me. I moved toward the opposite wall, putting distance between us so my body would stop humming. “But I’m back, Stella. I’m here now.And I’m wanting to work things out.”

Crossing the space between us, he cupped my shoulders, sliding his calloused hands up and down my bare arms. He held my gaze calmly, his pale eyes clear and candid. I knew better. There’s nothing open about Stone except his blazing sensuality. Seriously, he’s a natural-born charmer.

But I was in no goddamned mood to be charmed and feeling emotionally unprotected did nothing to improve things. So I ignored his oh-so-sincere assurances. “The only thing we need to work out is when to file—”

The little bell over the front door chimed. I frowned, startled to realize that it hadn’t made a sound when Stone came in. Jon started down the hall, then stopped dead in his tracks. His expression hardened as he looked at us—Stone still loomed over me, grasping my elbow.

Jon drew himself up to his full height and struck a menacing pose, muscles flexed, eyes watchful. “Who’s this?”

I’ll be damned. A knight in flaming armor.

But, instead of an Uzi, Jon had a takeout container under his arm. It ruined the effect. Right now, I needed to defuse the situation or I’d be picking carpet fibers out of my lunch.

“This is Cameron Stone.” I slipped from his grasp and took a step back. “He’s—”

“I’m her—”

“—leaving now.”

Stone shot me a look, but thankfully didn’t finish his sentence. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

I squared my shoulders, irritated by his unspoken censure. “This is Jon Chase, my secretary.”

“Administrative assistant,” Jon cut in, glancing from me to Stone and back again. He had yet to move, apparently still gauging the threat.

Stone nodded in greeting, though his focus stayed on me. “We’ve some things to discuss, you and I. A proposition.”

I snorted inelegantly. “I’m still trying to recover from your last one.”

That brought Jon closer to my side. He stood just in front of me, making himself an obstacle. When I tapped his shoulder, he turned his head but didn’t take his eyes off Stone.

“I thought you were taking a long lunch.”

“It can wait.” Jon didn’t seem ready to shift out of action-hero mode. “Should I ask why he’s wet?”

Stone spoke up. “He is wet because I gave her a bit of a start when I came in.”

I looked over and caught his faintly amused expression. Damn it, couldn’t he at least pretend? Jon was acting more jealous than Stone was.

“I’m fine. Really. I just wasn’t expecting the ghost of mistakes past.” I darted my eyes in Stone’s direction, then held my hand out to Jon. “Can I have my food now?”

He handed over my chicken and a small plastic bag. “I got yours first. Try to remember this when I’m up for a raise.”

“I’ll make a note of it,” I replied in my least sincere voice. “Go get that lobster.”

“I’m not hungry.” Jon eyed Stone some more even though he was talking to me. “If you need anything at all, I’ll be right at my desk.”

“Nice to’ve met you.” Stone held out his hand.

Jon ignored the gesture.

Stone let his hand fall to his side. “I’m sure we’ll cross paths again.”

That did not make me happy. It sounded like a threat to my mental health as well as a casual promise to my secretary. Jon walked away, but not before giving me a look that warned he’d be asking a lot of questions later. Let him ask.

There was no easy way to explain Stone.

CHAPTER SIX

A Matter of Trust

“YOU CAN GO, TOO.”

Stella pierced Stone with a green-brown glare, angling her head toward the front door. Then she turned on her heel so swiftly that her braided hair swung in an arc. Cameron admired the sway of her bum before following her down the passageway. With little effort, he recalled the satin feel of her bare skin and the sinuous muscle beneath it.

He glanced about, registering the agency’s layout and exits from habit. He walked into the last office just as she went round the desk, set her meal down and flung herself into the chair. He studied her, replacing memory with reality. Hair as dark as a raven’s wing with wide hazel eyes beneath straight brows, a classic nose and a full mouth that begged a man to kiss it.

And that bloody shiner. The anger had hit him out of nowhere, as if he could feel the impact of that fist against her cheek… He’d seen quite a few people die over the years, some of them by his own hand. And yet the sight of her barely concealed bruising made him ill.

He forced his gaze away, schooling his expression to mask the sudden rush of feeling. Looking around, he made note of the motorbike helmet, technical books and utilitarian blinds along with the watercolor canvasses, delicate glass paperweights and flowering plants.

“You’re just as intriguing as I recalled.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Stone. Why are you still here?”

He hated having his back to the door, but he took the visitor seat, gingerly crossing his left ankle over his damaged knee. “As I said before, we need to talk.”

“So talk.” She flung up her arms in resignation before opening the polystyrene container. The room filled with the scent of grilled chicken, garam masala and lemon.

He nodded toward her food. “I don’t suppose you’re sharing that?”

“No.” She took an exaggerated bite, closing her eyes and humming with gusto. “Why did you come back?”

He couldn’t tell her, couldn’t possibly explain how he’d left the Bellagio with the oddest sensation of the light going out of the room. He hadn’t much experience with light. A relationship was something he never thought he’d have. In his line of work truth and true emotions weren’t to be allowed. No ties to hold him back, no assets to compromise him.

Yet there was something about Stella. For the first time in years, he’d felt…

He’d begun making arrangements while waiting in the Vegas airport’s international terminal for his flight to Bogotá. He hadn’t wanted to leave in the first place. But Nick Anson, head of the Nighthawks, had needed him and the job had been one he couldn’t refuse. A matter of a life or painful death.

Unfortunately it had taken longer to come to the final end of things than anticipated. He, Ice, Loco Vaquero and Blueman had spent miserable weeks in the jungle dealing with the Liberation Front rebels. The ordeal had only strengthened his resolve to return to Stella. He’d begun several times to ring her up, but even so he’d known an impersonal call wouldn’t do.