Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
K elli held her breath as she waited for Mac to process her words. His palm still cupped her ass, and her fingers were still twined under his belt.
“Our bedroom,” he repeated.
“Yes,” she murmured, her heart slamming heard against her ribs. “Or am I saving myself for our wedding night?”
Something flashed in his eyes, and Kelli tightened her grip on his belt, drawing him closer. Was that a gun holstered on his hip, or?—
“Later,” he said, sliding his hand from beneath her skirt. “We have work to do.”
“Work?”
“Let’s not forget, this is a business arrangement, Ms. Landers. My ability to carry out this mission and keep you safe hinges on my ability to remain focused and undistracted.”
Kelli swallowed, chiding herself for missing the warmth of his palm on her ass. “Here’s a tip—most men address their fiancée by her first name.”
“Duly noted.” Mac took another step back, regaining control of the situation or at least himself. “I also noted that we did not do a very convincing job of knowing one another in our debut as a couple.”
She grimaced. “Lemon allergy, huh?”
“Intense fear of heights?”
“Right.” He took a deep breath. “Come.”
I was just about to, if you’d kept grinding on me like that, Kelli thought, but allowed him to tow her away from the door and through the kitchen.
She surveyed the elaborate space filled with granite counters and gleaming appliances. Maria smiled as they passed, but said nothing. There was a massive teak dining table to the left of the kitchen, and beyond that, a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a kidney-shaped pool done in turquoise tile. She longed for a dip in the water, or at least a shower after her long flight from Hawaii, but Mac had other ideas.
He pulled her into an office where a tall man with a buzz cut was just hanging up the phone.
“Sir,” he said by way of greeting.
“Hank. I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Kelli Landers.”
Kelli stuck her hand out, feeling a little like a trained seal. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Hank is my closest ally and second-in-command,” Mac said. “We served in the Marines together years ago before I started my company.”
Hank nodded at her, then looked back at Mac. “Zapata wants you to have dinner at his place Wednesday evening.”
“The day after tomorrow.” Mac frowned. “Dinner party?”
“No. Just the two of you. And your wives.”
At the word wives, Kelli stiffened. She was being thrown into the deep end. Mac just nodded, then looked at Kelli.
“I look forward to having you meet one of my business colleagues, sweetheart.”
“I’d love nothing more,” Kelli said, thinking of at least three dozen things she’d love more, beginning with an appendectomy.
Hank studied her, his pale blue eyes boring into hers in a way that made Kelli shiver. She held his gaze, determined to hold up under his military-like scrutiny.
Hank looked back at Mac. “Would you like to go over those briefings now?”
“How about after dinner?” Mac asked. “Right now, I’d like to spend a little time with my fiancée.”
“Very well. In that case, I’m running over to the base for a few hours. Need anything?”
“No thank you.”
As soon as Hank retreated, Mac turned and locked the door. Kelli frowned at him. “Base? There’s no military base in Mexico.”
“Correct.”
He supplied no further information, and she couldn’t resist the urge to probe. “I understand whatever it is you do is secretive,” she said. “But don’t you think your fiancée should at least know the basics?”
He shook his head. “You know I handle contracts for the U.S. military on operations that are—shall we say, a bit outside the box. That’s all you need to know. Part of minimizing the risk to you is minimizing your connection to my business.”
“And to you, personally?”
“Precisely.”
“Fine.” Kelli sat down in a plush chair and glanced through the half-tilted blinds to the sparkling ocean view beyond. “But I do think we both need to know more about one another if we’re going to pull off this engagement story.”
“My thoughts exactly,” he said, striding around the desk to a chair on the opposite side. He reached into a drawer and pulled out an army-green file folder. After pushing it across the desk toward her, he steepled his hands and waited for her to open it.
She hesitated, then flipped open the cover. A stack of papers an inch thick greeted her, with neat lines provided for handwritten responses. She scanned the words on the pages and realized it was some sort of questionnaire.
Catalog your academic history.
List all members of your immediate family, along with ages and occupations.
Describe any food allergies.
She looked up at him. “You want me to fill this out?”
He nodded. “I’ve already gathered much of it through private investigators, but it seems prudent to ensure I have all the information precise.”
“You’re filling this out, too?”
He pushed a second folder across the desk and nodded. “All my answers are filled in. You’ll be studying this over the next twenty-four hours and will be drilled on responses throughout the following days until you have it committed to memory.”
She blinked, then shook her head. “If I miss a question, will you punish me?”
A faint smile crossed his face, and he pressed his palms flat against the desktop. “I’ll do whatever I need to.”
She felt a sizzle of lust arc through her body, and she looked away from his hands, trying to regain control of herself. Of the situation. She opened his file folder and began to read. “A graduate of Hawaii State University, a degree in political science, six foot two with black hair and brown eyes.” She glanced up at him. “Not that I ever see them.”
“What?”
She closed the folder and looked at him. “I’ll fill out your forms, and I’ll study yours. But don’t you think we need to get a little more—personal?”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “The kiss in the foyer wasn’t personal enough for you?”
Kelli swallowed, her lips still tingling from that kiss. “It was a very nice performance, but only the tip of the iceberg. Engaged couples share intimate details about themselves. Not just where you grew up and where you went to school, but the name of your childhood teddy bear and how old you were when you lost your virginity.”
Mac quirked one eyebrow. “Bingo. Seventeen. You?”
“Maple Syrup Florida Green Bear. Sixteen. Favorite color?”
“Black.”
“Of course. I like pink.” She licked her lips. “Favorite sex position?”
“I like being on top.”
“So do I.”
She let that hang between them a moment, waiting for his response. At last, he nodded.
“Fine. Now can we focus on the questionnaires?”
Kelli rolled her eyes. “I’m serious, Mac. We need to know this stuff. This is what couples in real, human relationships do.”
“Grill each other on the names of their teddy bears?” Mac shook his head. “I’m quite certain that Zapata will not be asking that of either of us. Now if you’ll turn to page?—”
“Who was she?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The girl you lost your virginity to.”
“This is relevant how?”
“Because this is the sort of thing a woman wants to know of her fiancée. Was it love, or a fling? Was your heart broken, or was it a notch on your belt? Was it a successful endeavor, or did you shoot your load on her leg before you got the condom on?”
“Why on earth?—”
“Because women want to know where they stack up,” she interrupted, not entirely sure why this mattered so much to her, but certain it did. “We want to know how we compare and deep down; we all want to know that even if we weren’t your first, we were your best, your turning point, your most meaningful, your everything.”
“For crying out loud, Kelli.” He ran his hands through his hair, looking exasperated, and she felt a twinge of triumph.
“Fine,” he said. “Her name was Sarah, and it was at a party before my senior year in high school. She wanted a relationship, but I wasn’t ready. We lost touch not long afterward, and while the experience was perhaps more hurried than I prefer these days, I can assure you my performance was respectable.”
Kelli sat back in her chair, feeling strangely satisfied.
“There. Was that so hard?”
He shook his head. “Now I’m supposed to ask you the same questions?”
“No. Men in committed relationships don’t want to know details.”
“What?”
“You might care what sort of car my last boyfriend drove or what sort of annual salary he had, but you do not want any details about my previous sex life.”
Mac folded his arms over his chest with a look of exasperation. “Okay then, since you’re apparently the expert on male-female relations, tell me what our sex life is like.”
“Our sex life?” Her throat clicked as she swallowed.
“We’re engaged, aren’t we? Do I take you hard and dirty from behind against the bedroom wall with your wrists pinned over your head, or do you like it slow and sweet and soft with the curtains open and the ocean breeze cooling the sweat between your breasts?”
She opened her mouth to reply and found her lips suddenly didn’t work. The image he’d just created was burned into her brain, and it was all she could do to keep from crawling into his lap.
“I—uh?—”
“Come on now,” he goaded. “I assume you aren’t saving yourself for our wedding night?”
She pressed her lips together. “Maybe I am.”
He was silent a moment, digesting this possibility. Kelli gave him her most angelic smile and crossed her legs primly. “I see,” Mac said. “Very well, I’ll have your things set up in the guest room adjacent to the primary suite. It’s probably best that way, ensuring we keep things as professional as possible.”
Shit, Kelli thought, fighting the urge to tell him she’d only been kidding, and that she’d love nothing more than to crawl into bed with him and do crazy things. She swallowed and stood, collecting the file.
“The guest room will be fine.”
“Okay then,” Mac said. “If we’re finished here, you can get started on the questionnaire.”
Kelli stood and nodded once, feeling all at once indignant and turned on. She twisted the doorknob and flounced out of the room with no earthly idea where she was headed.
Par for the course .
Kelli woke to the sound of her iPhone playing “Here Comes the Bride.”
Anna’s ringtone.
“Hello?” she grumbled, propping herself in bed. “Hey, sleepyhead. Ready to try on wedding gowns?”
“What time is it?”
“Eight a.m. local time. Are you seriously just waking up?”
“Yes.” Kelli rubbed her eyes, dumbfounded to realize she’d just slept for more than twelve hours. True, she’d awakened several times in the night. The first time she’d glanced out the window to see two armed men patrolling the windows and balcony of her room.
The second time she’d heard footsteps in the hallway and peered through the keyhole to realize Mac himself was standing guard.
These guys gave a whole new meaning to security.
“Long night, huh?” Anna teased, jarring Kelli back to the conversation. “I hear ya. First time you and Mr. Hottie McFrowny have seen each other in weeks. I assume he kept you up all night playing hide the sausage?”
“Pretty much,” Kelli said.
Assuming “hide the sausage” is code for filling out endless piles of paperwork and falling asleep on page thirty-seven of the history of Mac’s former military career .
Since she couldn’t say that out loud, she settled for throwing her legs over the edge of the bed and staring out the window at the Pacific Ocean. “Do we have an appointment this morning to try on wedding gowns?”
“Nine o’clock. How about I come get you in ten minutes and take you the bridal salon.”
“Deal. Bring coffee, okay?”
“See you soon.”
Kelli trudged off to the bathroom and took a quick shower. She pulled on a simple, pale pink sundress and a pair of white leather flip-flops and headed down to the kitchen in search of cereal.
Maria was bustling over a steaming pot of something that smelled spicy and scrumptious. She beamed when Kelli walked in.
“Sit, sit, senorita! I make you good breakfast.”
“Thank you so much, but I don’t have time. I’m going shopping for wedding dresses in ten minutes.”
Maria made a tsk-tsk noise. “You must eat breakfast. Come, I make breakfast burrito. You like spicy?”
“I like spicy very much,” she said, and dropped onto a stool at the granite bar. “Is Mac here?”
“No, he left early for meeting. He will be home by four to take you to dinner.”
“Dinner.”
“A romantic date, no?” Maria beamed knowingly, and Kelli felt herself returning the smile.
A horn beeped in the driveway, and Kelli jumped up.
Maria turned and handed her two foil-wrapped goodies. “Here. One for you, one for your friend.”
“Thank you so much, Maria.” She took the food and trotted out the door to where Anna was waiting in a rented convertible. Kelli slid in and handed Anna a burrito.
“Trade you for coffee.”
“Right there in the cup holder. You ready to do this?”
“Eat the burrito, or try on dresses? Only one of those gets a yes.”
Anna laughed and took a bite of her burrito. “You’ll do great. I worked with this bridal salon two years ago when I was here doing a wedding for a bride who wanted the wedding performed while the entire wedding party was skydiving. Suffice it to say, they’re very accommodating.”
“I’ll take accommodating. I’ll also take another six gallons of coffee. Thanks for this.”
“No problem.” Anna steered the car out onto the highway and Kelli sighed as the breeze ruffled her hair. “So Mac is ridiculously hot. And I love how much he adores you.”
Kelli almost choked on her burrito. She held it down and took a sip of coffee for good measure. “Uh-huh,” she agreed, eyes watering. “Me, too.”
“He looks like he’d be fantastic in the sack. That whole king-of-the-universe thing is crazy-hot.”
“It can be,” Kelli agreed, thinking her pal didn’t know the half of it. She’d never been so turned on by a guy who wouldn’t sleep with her.
“Are we being followed?”
Kelli glanced up from her breakfast to see Anna frowning at the rearview mirror. She craned her neck to see the car behind them. “Oh, that’s Mac’s man, Hank. I’m supposed to have a bodyguard with me at all times, but Mac promised he’d give me my space.”
“He’s not going to follow you into the dressing room, is he?”
Kelli grinned. “Maybe we could make him model veils for us.”
Anna wheeled into the parking lot of the bridal salon and parked close to the front door. “Come on. I can’t wait to see what they’ve picked out for you.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That you’re small, feisty, and ridiculously girlie for someone who wrestles Dobermans for a living.”
“I’m sure they make just the gown for that,” Kelli said and followed her through the door.
The inside of the shop looked like a tulle factory had exploded. White gowns hung from everywhere, some sleek and modern, and some with more ruffles than an eighties prom dress. Hank walked a few steps behind them, looking like a man who’d prefer internment in a POW camp over a morning spent shopping for bridal gowns. A veil grazed his arm, and he jumped back like he’d been shot.
“Ms. Keebler? Ms. Landers? I’m so glad you could join us this morning. It’s our pleasure to serve you!”
Kelli turned, startled by the voice. She’d been expecting a sleek model-type with a French accent, or maybe an effusive gay man in bright jeggings.
What she saw was a tall man in a plaid shirt and cowboy boots. He tipped his cowboy hat, showing a pleasant smile and laugh lines that made him look just like the Marlboro Man.
“Um, hi,” Kelli said, regrouping. “We’re here to look at wedding gowns. Not both of us. I mean, I’m the one getting married. We’re not marrying each other. Not that there’s anything wrong with that?—”
“I know who you are, ma’am,” the cowboy said, gesturing toward a rack of dresses so blindingly white, Kelli considered donning her sunglasses. “Ms. Keebler called ahead and gave us all your measurements and some details about you. If you’ll come this way, we’ll get started trying things on.”
Kelli followed dumbly, noticing the man had the bowlegged swagger of someone who’d ridden thirty miles on horseback to arrive at the boutique. Hank followed behind them, looking increasingly uncomfortable as he waded deeper into the abyss of lace and satin.
“Clint has the best taste in gowns,” Anna whispered conspiratorially. “When I talked with him this morning, he said he just got a new shipment from Vera Wang on Thursday.”
“They’re not flannel, are they?”
Anna rolled her eyes. “Don’t judge a book by its cover.”
“Or a bridal-shop owner by his chaps?”
“Exactly.”
Ahead of them, Clint halted in front of a rack and pivoted. “I’ve set aside a few styles to get you started. Obviously, any of these can be tailored to fit you.” He plucked one gown off the rack and held it up, the beading nicely complementing the silver buckle on his hat.
“This dress features a Venice lace sweetheart neckline and a fitted bodice. It’s an A-line gown with a chapel train embellished with Swarovski crystals and seed pearls.”
Kelli nodded, reaching out to touch the dress. The satin felt cool beneath her fingers. “It’s very nice,” she said. “But I was picturing something more?—”
“Princessy?” he supplied.
Kelli blinked. “Yes. Pretty much.”
Anna elbowed her. “See? I told you he’s good.”
Clint scooped another gown off the rack. “This dress here is a drop-waist trumpet gown with a strapless, portrait neckline, ruched bust, and a lace-up back,” he offered, swishing the gown to cover his spotlessly clean cowboy boots. “Optional bolero is included.”
“It’s beautiful, but I’m not sure about the lace-up back. I was sorta hoping for?—”
“Buttons?” he supplied. “I have just the thing.” He turned and pulled a third gown off the rack. Kelli gasped in amazement.
“This is a taffeta A-line gown with a pleat-wrapped bodice topped with seed pearls and French lace. It features an asymmetrical side pickup skirt revealing a jeweled tulle inset. The cathedral train is detachable for dancing, and it has vintage, silk-covered buttons up the back.”
“That’s it,” she whispered, reaching out to touch it. “That’s the dress.”
For one breathless moment, Kelli forgot this whole thing was fake. She pictured herself in the gown with her dashing groom waiting for her on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean as she gracefully floated down an aisle lined with orchids and roses and daisies.
Then she remembered her groom was more eager to see her in a bulletproof vest than a wedding gown, and that her fear of heights and natural clumsiness made floating on a cliff side even less likely than allergy-prone Mac surviving a flower-strewn ceremony.
Besides. A real wedding was the last thing in the world she wanted. Ever.
A real wedding means commitment, which leads to love, which leads to attachment, which leads to abandonment, which leads to ? —
“Try it on!” urged Anna. “That totally looks like your kind of dress.”
Kelli nodded and took a deep breath, bringing herself back from the edge of panic. It really was a beautiful dress.
“The fitting room is right this way,” Clint said, leading her to a room with more mirrors than the ceiling of a Las Vegas hotel room. He hung the gown on a hook and waved her inside.
“I’ll help with the buttons,” Anna said, stepping into the oversized fitting room with her. “Hurry, I want to see it on you.”
“I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying.”
Kelli shimmied out of her sundress, and with a little help from Anna, managed to get the behemoth dress over her shoulders. She deliberately avoided glancing in the mirror, not wanting to see anything until it was settled perfectly.
“Okay, I’m going to zip you up now, hold still.”
“Zip?
“There’s a hidden zipper under the buttons,” Anna said. “The buttons are just an illusion.”
Just like the engagement, Kelli thought, but kept her smile pasted in place as Anna finished zipping and buttoning and straightening.
“There,” she said, satisfied at last. “Don’t look yet, let’s walk out into the big room with all the mirrors. There’s even a special pedestal you can pose on to see the full effect of the dress.”
Kelli allowed Anna to tow her out of the fitting room and into a brightly lit room. She stepped onto the little raised platform and fluffed the train.
“Okay, you can look now,” Anna said. “Ohmygod, Kelli, you’re absolutely gorgeous.”
Kelli blinked at her reflection in the mirror. She did look gorgeous, if it was okay to think that. She swished the skirt a little as Clint strode over and began arranging the train. Beside the dressing room, Hank touched his earpiece and said something into a little microphone on his collar. He stared at a man studying bow ties on the other side of the shop and Kelli shivered, trying not to think about who might be spying on her.
“It fits you well,” Clint said, drawing her attention back to the dress. “We might need to take it in just a little bit through here, but other than that, this dress looks like it was made for you.”
Kelli beamed, trying not to get emotional. It was just a dress. A stupid, fluffy white dress that looked absolutely stunning on her. A memory flickered in her brain—the smell of mothballs, her mother’s voice, the image of her seven- year-old self playing dress-up with her mom’s wedding gown.
“You’re a princess,” her mother had cooed, taking a slug of the Jim Beam she used to self-medicate. “A real goddamn princess.”
“You are a princess,” Anna said, and Kelli realized she’d been mouthing the word princess like some kind of moron.
Kelli pivoted, admiring the plunging neckline, the row of little tiny buttons up the back of the gown. She frowned, noticing one edge of the fabric caught in the hidden zipper behind one of the top buttons. She tugged, then stopped, not wanting to tear anything on the perfect dress.
Kelli pivoted again, certain Clint would have a solution for fixing the zipper. The bodice was certainly lovely, and those seed pearls?—
“Is that your phone?” Anna asked.
“I must’ve left it in the dressing room.”
“Don’t move. I’ll go grab it.”
Anna hustled off to the fitting area, while Kelli wriggled her shoulders, hoping to free the fabric from the zipper. Wow, it was really wedged in there. Maybe if she tugged a little?—
“The zipper?” Clint asked, reaching for it. “I was afraid of this. The humidity makes things especially sticky. Let me see if I can?—”
“Careful,” Kelli whispered, pulling back. “Don’t hurt the dress.”
“Wow, that’s really wedged in there.”
“Hey, Kelli?” Anna called.
She turned to see Anna rushing back with the phone in her hand. Kelli reached for it, frowning at the number she didn’t recognize.
“Hello, this is Kelli Landers.”
There was a gasp on the other end of the line, then the trill of a frantic voice. “Ohmygod, please come quickly! There’s an emergency!”