was game on. No going back. He wasn’t going to let her walk through those doors until he knew she was ready.
Casting a glance the length of the darkened lobby, he took hold of her upper arm, leaned close to her ear, and whispered, “C’mon.”
She came willingly, seemingly relieved as he propelled her toward the private phone bays separated from one another and tucked behind thick decorative columns. She slipped inside the first empty alcove.
He followed, taking up the rest of the room and blocking the lobby’s light. Chin down, she leaned against the high-backed chair pushed up beneath the bay’s built-in table and shook her head.
“I’m sorry.” She brought up both hands to cover her face, shuddered. “I thought this was going to be easy. A walk in the park. That we’d go in, the dossier would be right there for our taking, we’d grab it and leave. End of story.”
Her honesty—and her naiveté—sent an unexpected rush of softness flowing into his heart. He didn’t doubt that she was tough. That she was strong. That she was not a cream puff who burst into tears at the slightest provocation.
But he was used to working with operatives who looked at a mission objectively, dispassionately. Not with a woman this personally involved in the outcome.
Georgia McLain was dealing with stakes even higher than he’d realized.
He weighed the odds of running this on his own, factored in the hellcat he’d seen in the diner this morning, came away confident that she had it in her to do this, to do anything. All she needed was a reminder.
“Look, Georgia—”
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
He grabbed her fluttering fingers. “No, you’re not. And I can’t let you go in there until you are.”
Her chin came up. “You can’t let me? What the hell kind of chauvinistic crap is that?”
The kind that got her attention. He moved closer. Brought her hand to his chest where his heart was beating harder than he liked. “Feel that? That’s me worried you’re going to flake, and I’m going to fuck up because you haven’t told me enough about what we’re doing here for me to handle it alone.”
She stilled, waited, did nothing but breathe.
Harry pressed. “It’s your ball game, sweetheart. I’m just a rabid fan.”
She’d stopped shaking. That much he was glad to see. What he wasn’t sure about was how to react when she flexed her fingers against his shirt, testing the muscle beneath.
And he was really lost when she stepped closer and leaned her forehead against him. Especially since he could smell the wild rain scent of her hair.
He stood there unmoving, his heart pounding even harder now when the whole reason for bringing her here was about staying calm. Calm was the last thing he was feeling. And the way she pressed against him, nuzzled him, bringing up both of her hands to do whatever it was she was doing…He shuddered, reached up to grip her shoulders and set her away.
Instead, he took a deep, deep breath. “Georgia?”
“Shh,” she whispered, laying two fingers against his lips. “I know. I’m sorry. I know.”
He had no idea what she was saying. All he knew was that her fingers were soft, that she smelled like heaven, and that the tingling heat at the base of his spine was about to make itself known in a very large way.
His hands on her shoulders tightened, sliding down her bare arms to her elbows at the same time she slipped her hands from his chest up to his neck. He closed his eyes and groaned.
This wasn’t happening. Any other time, any other place, sure. Not here. Not now. But it was too late. She’d cupped the base of his skull with one hand and was pulling him down. The air she blew out brushed his cheek, and she touched her mouth to the edge of his in the barest hint of a kiss.
She moved closer, catching the corner of his top lip between hers, whispering, “I’m sorry,” as she nibbled and tugged, as her tongue followed to wet
Casting a glance the length of the darkened lobby, he took hold of her upper arm, leaned close to her ear, and whispered, “C’mon.”
She came willingly, seemingly relieved as he propelled her toward the private phone bays separated from one another and tucked behind thick decorative columns. She slipped inside the first empty alcove.
He followed, taking up the rest of the room and blocking the lobby’s light. Chin down, she leaned against the high-backed chair pushed up beneath the bay’s built-in table and shook her head.
“I’m sorry.” She brought up both hands to cover her face, shuddered. “I thought this was going to be easy. A walk in the park. That we’d go in, the dossier would be right there for our taking, we’d grab it and leave. End of story.”
Her honesty—and her naiveté—sent an unexpected rush of softness flowing into his heart. He didn’t doubt that she was tough. That she was strong. That she was not a cream puff who burst into tears at the slightest provocation.
But he was used to working with operatives who looked at a mission objectively, dispassionately. Not with a woman this personally involved in the outcome.
Georgia McLain was dealing with stakes even higher than he’d realized.
He weighed the odds of running this on his own, factored in the hellcat he’d seen in the diner this morning, came away confident that she had it in her to do this, to do anything. All she needed was a reminder.
“Look, Georgia—”
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
He grabbed her fluttering fingers. “No, you’re not. And I can’t let you go in there until you are.”
Her chin came up. “You can’t let me? What the hell kind of chauvinistic crap is that?”
The kind that got her attention. He moved closer. Brought her hand to his chest where his heart was beating harder than he liked. “Feel that? That’s me worried you’re going to flake, and I’m going to fuck up because you haven’t told me enough about what we’re doing here for me to handle it alone.”
She stilled, waited, did nothing but breathe.
Harry pressed. “It’s your ball game, sweetheart. I’m just a rabid fan.”
She’d stopped shaking. That much he was glad to see. What he wasn’t sure about was how to react when she flexed her fingers against his shirt, testing the muscle beneath.
And he was really lost when she stepped closer and leaned her forehead against him. Especially since he could smell the wild rain scent of her hair.
He stood there unmoving, his heart pounding even harder now when the whole reason for bringing her here was about staying calm. Calm was the last thing he was feeling. And the way she pressed against him, nuzzled him, bringing up both of her hands to do whatever it was she was doing…He shuddered, reached up to grip her shoulders and set her away.
Instead, he took a deep, deep breath. “Georgia?”
“Shh,” she whispered, laying two fingers against his lips. “I know. I’m sorry. I know.”
He had no idea what she was saying. All he knew was that her fingers were soft, that she smelled like heaven, and that the tingling heat at the base of his spine was about to make itself known in a very large way.
His hands on her shoulders tightened, sliding down her bare arms to her elbows at the same time she slipped her hands from his chest up to his neck. He closed his eyes and groaned.
This wasn’t happening. Any other time, any other place, sure. Not here. Not now. But it was too late. She’d cupped the base of his skull with one hand and was pulling him down. The air she blew out brushed his cheek, and she touched her mouth to the edge of his in the barest hint of a kiss.
She moved closer, catching the corner of his top lip between hers, whispering, “I’m sorry,” as she nibbled and tugged, as her tongue followed to wet
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