Chapter 5
Chauncey barked a laugh and they walked up the path toward the house together where Shana had disappeared inside.
Dane spoke under his breath. “Don’t say much—keep it to the inane until I sweep the place again,” He went in ahead of Chauncey and caught up with Shana as she was coming back out of her bedroom.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she whispered as she stood in the doorway.
He pulled up in front of her, leaned forward and put his lips to her ear, feeling the soft flesh of her earlobe touch his lips and the wispy hairs at her temple tickle his nose.
He breathed in the scent of some expensive very non-beachy perfume and rasped, “I need to sweep the place. Until I’m finished keep the conversation light—or better yet, go outside with Chauncey and get acquainted.
” Before she pulled away—and he could feel the vibration of tension in her screaming for space at the same time as he saw little goose bumps of arousal spring up along her delicate neck—he nipped her earlobe with his lips.
The shudder went through him down to his core like a bolt of electricity or the most exquisitely pleasurable stun gun he’d ever experienced. He clamped his hands on her arms to hold her as if she were a wild mare taunting the stallion bucking inside him.
“Time for us to cast aside personal…issues… and act the part. We’re both professionals.” He pulled back from her and looked into her stunned and glassy eyes and saw everything in them from hatred to lust and envy to anger, but she finally got herself to a professional focus.
“Thank you for giving me credit for being a professional. I know I haven’t acted like one this morning. I…I…” She tried to turn her head away from him, but he caught her chin and kept his eyes on her.
“You can do this, girlie. I give you one thing—you’re tough.”
He stepped back from the confusion and skepticism that jumped into her expression.
“God help me, it’s true,” he whispered as he turned away, not sure if he meant her to hear the words or not. And not sure if she had.
He pushed past her into her bedroom, slipped a device out of his back pocket and went to work.
* * *
Shana hated to admit to herself that he rattled her.
And so what if he did? He was a seasoned and well-practiced asshole, wasn’t he?
She really was tough and she pulled out the layer of rawhide she had in reserve for this and mentally wrapped it around her.
Dane the Demon was not to be trusted. Rule one.
Rule two: never, ever, ever forget that this was a job, a mission, and she was not to let anything about it touch her.
Not Chauncey, not Captain Nice and certainly not Dane the Demon. This was business.
She wanted only to prove she was up to this job and then get on with her career in London—where she would have more important missions.
That’s where her real work was and her real life.
This was only a temporary professional sidetrack, but it was one where she could help her reputation and prove herself.
She would begin her own urban legend here.
The internal pep talk made her feel better as she marched through the living room and out the massive French doors to the enormous slate patio overlooking pristine white sand and crashing waves fifty yards away.
Chauncey stood there admiring the view with a faraway look.
Probably thinking about his new bride, judging by the lovesick cast of his eyes.
The sight pinched at her and caused her to stutter in her stride, but she pushed on, raising her chin up a notch.
The bubble of longing in her chest caught her by surprise.
What was that about? This girl was all about making a name and being a superstar at the Yard—and maybe even beyond that.
She had no room for girlie notions about having a man moon over her like she witnessed Chauncey doing.
The girlie notions thought reminded her of Dane and she clamped down on the instant spike in temper—or heat—or whatever it was that he caused.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. And it wasn’t healthy.
“You are a brave woman to be in this profession.” Chauncey said, “From what I hear, you could be anything you want.”
“Thank you. This is all I ever wanted to do.” She stopped herself from launching headlong into spilling her dreams and apprehensions and how she wanted to make a name for herself with this mission. Behave like a professional, not like a girlie.
“I think we all need to become familiar with our undercover stories and this is a good time to practice,” she said with a bright smile.
“A deep cover setup. Peter—Governor Douglas—had an extensive digital and paper file planted for each of us—including Dane,” Chauncey supplied.
She wondered why this con man Jean Luc deserved all their attention. Could it be only the missing heiress or was there more to it than that? It would not surprise her if she were being left out of the circle of some important missing information.
“I’ve studied my role and I’m ready for it. I thought I’d go next door and ask about the missing Susan Whittier. We may stimulate something by asking around more.”
“Or we may scare Ruse off,” Chauncey said.
“Won’t matter,” Dane said as he walked up behind her. “He’s going nowhere. He won’t get off this island without us knowing before he can spit in the ocean. We stop him.”
She turned and he was close enough that she could smell his scent. Damned if he didn’t smell good enough to raise her heat level. Something about him stirred her and she wished to hell it wasn’t true.
“Finding the missing Susan Whittier is our most important goal. We need Jean Luc to spill his hand. One of us is going to have to get close enough for him to do that. We’re all gonna try. He’ll either tell us she’s dead. Or he’ll tell us where she is.”
At his ominous words, a shiver sparked through her starting at the back of her neck and down each vertebra of her spine.
Or it could have been that one step closer he took so that his body whispered against hers, screaming familiarity.
* * *
“Let’s go over everything we know,” Dane said.
“Out here?” Shana said.
“Inside’s clean?” Chauncey asked.
“No. We leave the bugs in place.” Dane saw Chauncey tighten his casual smile and glance at Shana.
The small intimacy between them clenched at his gut and twisted it into an irrational knot of longing until he turned away and took a very deep breath.
He’d done the exact same thing once. Shared intimate glances with a woman who was no more.
He’d cared. Personally. And he would never let that happen again.
Shana spoke. “We know that Jean Luc was seen with Susan Whittier recently and that he lied about it. We know he’s scared of the police investigating her disappearance…” She stopped.
“What is it?”
“My cover phone buzzed. I have a text.” She pulled the phone out and checked it. “It’s from our missing Susan Whittier.”