Secret Agent Seduction (14 page)

He knew that sleep would elude him for a few more hours, if not for the rest of the night.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008
0700 hours
Thurmont, Maryland
Day 5

W
hen Lia emerged from her bedroom at seven o'clock the next morning, she found Magliore standing at the living-room window, one hand thrust into the pocket of his jeans as he stared out at the heavily falling rain. He appeared to be deep in thought, not even glancing over at her as she made her way to the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she said, already thinking ahead to what the day would bring. With Armand Magliore, nothing was ever predictable. Which—under vastly different circumstances—was just what she'd always liked in a man. Unpredictability. Spontaneity. A daring sense of adventure. Magliore had those qualities in spades.

“That was quite a storm last night, wasn't it?” she remarked. “Woke me out of a deep sleep. What about you?”

Magliore barely spared her a glance. “Yeah,” he murmured.

As Lia headed into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, she wondered if his moodiness had anything to do with the way they'd parted last night. She'd kissed him as if her very life depended on it, then retreated like a coward—for the second night in a row. Yet when he'd asked her point-blank whether she wanted him to stop pursuing her, she hadn't been able to give him an answer.

Lia cringed at the memory. She wouldn't blame him one bit for thinking she was a total flake or, worse, a tease.

Stop it,
she ordered herself with a stern shake of her head.
Just because the man seems unusually distant this morning doesn't mean it has anything to do with you. Get over yourself!

While she waited for the coffee to percolate, she rummaged around in the well-stocked cabinets, finding unopened boxes of buttermilk pancake mix and instant grits. From the refrigerator she pulled out eggs, milk, bacon and butter.

When she poked her head around the kitchen doorway, she saw that Magliore had not moved from his position at the window.

“I thought we could have breakfast here,” she told him. “You know, since it's raining so hard outside. I thought we could save ourselves a trip to the main lodge in this downpour.”

And avoid having to see your girlfriend, Tiffany,
she added silently.

Magliore glanced over his shoulder at her. “I don't mind walking in the rain.”

“I do,” Lia said, straight-faced. “All that humidity is hell on my hair.”

He just stared at her, as if trying to decide whether or not to take her seriously.

Lia ruined the moment by grinning. “Just kidding. Honestly, Magliore, how shallow do you think I am?”

This, finally, brought a faint smile to his face. “I don't think you're shallow at all. But I know how you sisters are about your hair.”

Her grin widened. “Well, with a job like mine,
this
sister can't be worrying too much about her hair.”

Magliore's lazy gaze roamed across her ponytail. “Do you ever wear it down?”

“Sometimes. Depends on the occasion.”

He was silent for a moment. “Would you wear it down if I asked you to?”

“Why would you ask me to?”

“Maybe I'd like to see what you look like with your hair down, loose around your shoulders.”

There was nothing overtly sexual about his words, or the way he was looking at her, but Lia shivered just the same. It was that deep, smoky voice of his. Even the most innocent conversation could sound indecent with that voice.

She shrugged, glancing away from him for a moment. “I'll think about it. So are you okay with staying here for breakfast? You said yourself it was the best way for you to keep a low profile.”

He arched a brow. “And now you agree with me?”

“I never disagreed.”

“No,” he murmured, watching her with a vaguely amused expression, “I guess you didn't. So if we stay here, who's making breakfast?”

“I am.”

“But I thought you told me you don't cook?”

“I don't. But I found everything I need to make pancakes and instant grits. How hard can it be to whip up some eggs and read some instructions on the back of a box?”

An hour later, Lia had her answer.

Seated across the breakfast table from Magliore, she surveyed the unappetizing array of food on her plate. The scrambled eggs were brown, the grits were runny, the bacon was overcooked and the pancakes looked nothing like the fluffy, perfectly round flapjacks displayed on the box.

As she watched, Magliore lifted one from his plate and studied it, turning it this way and that as if it were a foreign organism beneath a microscope. “Most unusual thing I've ever seen,” he murmured, his mouth twitching. “And yet somehow familiar…”

“Familiar?”

He nodded. Suddenly his face broke into a wide grin. “I know why. This one is shaped like Muwaiti!”

Lia stared at the pancake for a moment, then burst out laughing. He was right. It did bear an uncanny resemblance to the small Caribbean island!

“I'm touched,” Magliore said, chuckling as he reached for the bottle of syrup. “You knew I was feeling homesick this morning, so you decided to make me a pancake in honor of my homeland.”

“Right. That's
exactly
what I had in mind,” Lia confirmed, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “I'm so glad you appreciate the gesture.”

“Oh, most definitely. Just as I appreciate the time and effort you put into making, ah, breakfast this morning.”

Lia grinned ruefully. “You might want to hold off on thanking me until after you've actually tasted the meal in question,” she advised.

Magliore grinned, forking up some eggs. “Oh, I'm sure it can't be all that—” He froze, midchew. The look on his face could only be described as one of horrified disbelief.

Lia howled with laughter. “Don't say I didn't warn you!”

Magliore shook his head at her, his eyes dancing with mirth. Instead of grabbing the closest napkin and spitting out the eggs, he bravely swallowed the mouthful of food, then chased it down with several gulps of strong black coffee.

“You continue to amaze me, Lia Charles,” he said with another shake of his head.

Lia chuckled. “I would say thank you, but somehow I don't think that was meant as a compliment.”

He laughed. “An astute observation.”

“I don't know where I went wrong,” Lia complained, watching her soupy grits run like water through the tines of her fork. “I followed all the directions to the letter. And I had no way of knowing the eggs would stick to the bottom of the pan if I didn't spray it or use butter.”

Magliore chuckled, pouring syrup over his lopsided stack of pancakes. “Don't beat yourself up. It was your first time. It always gets easier after that.”

“Ha! You think I'm actually going to try this cooking experiment again? No way. I've learned my lesson.”

“I'm really sorry to hear that.”

“Why?” Lia said drolly. “You enjoy being forced to eat unpalatable food?”

He laughed. “How do you know it's unpalatable? You haven't even tasted anything yet.”

She grinned wryly. “I don't need to. The look on your face after tasting the eggs said it all.” She heaved a deep sigh. “I guess we should have gone to the main lodge for breakfast, after all. I was crazy to think my food could compete with those melt-in-your-mouth country biscuits and incredible omelets.”

“Maybe not,” Magliore agreed, winking at her, “but I couldn't ask for better company.”

Lia warmed with pleasure at his words—which, she supposed, had been his intent. She gave him a grateful smile. “You're just saying that to make me feel better about my disastrous attempt at cooking.”

“Did it work?”

“Not nearly as much as watching you eat those pancakes, God bless you.”

“Actually, they're not that bad.”

She brightened. “Really?”

“Really. Of course,” he drawled, his mouth twitching with suppressed humor, “after existing on a steady diet of MREs for the last year,
anything
tastes good to me.”

Lia poked her tongue out at him, and he began laughing.

The entire situation was so comical that she soon joined him. When she picked up one of her own oddly-shaped pancakes and waved it at him, he threw back his head and roared with laughter, which only made
her
laugh harder.

When their laughter finally subsided, Lia reached for her glass of orange juice and took a long sip. She studied Magliore quietly for several moments.

“Is that why you were so subdued this morning?” she asked gently. “Because you were feeling homesick?”

He nodded, meeting her gaze. “I miss my family.”

Her heart swelled with compassion. “I know this must be very hard for you, being apart from them like this.”

Again he nodded. “I wish I could see them.”

“You know that's not possible,” Lia murmured. “It's too dangerous.”

“I know. I know.”

Hearing the frustration in his voice, Lia sought to reassure him. “Your mother and your siblings are safe.”

“How do you know for sure?” Magliore impatiently demanded.

“Because the agents assigned to protect them are the best,” Lia said firmly. “They check in every day with my supervisor, Nancy Janikowski, to give a status report. If something had happened, she would have called me immediately.”

“Maybe not,” Magliore said darkly. “Maybe she wouldn't want me to worry and get sidetracked. Your government wants me to testify at this hearing, no matter what. I wouldn't put it past your supervisor, or anyone else, to withhold information from me that could possibly hinder my cooperation.”

Lia frowned. “That makes no sense whatsoever. First of all, if something happened to your mother and siblings, no one would be heartless enough to keep that from you just to avoid rocking the boat. It doesn't work that way. Secondly, if Biassou's mercenaries somehow got to your family, that would mean our position may have been compromised, as well, which means we would need to be moved to another location right away. From a logistical standpoint alone, Janikowski would
have
to fill us in on everything.”

Magliore looked at her, a hint of mockery in the curve of his mouth. “Such faith you have in your government,
ma petite.
”

Her chin angled in defense. “If I'm not mistaken,” she said evenly, “you were the same way four years ago.”

His expression darkened. “And so I was. For all the good it did me.”

Before Lia could respond, he shoved back from the table and stood, pacing to the window. She watched as he stood with his arms folded across his chest, gazing out at the torrential downpour in brooding silence.

In helpless frustration she turned back to her meal. But even if there had been anything remotely appetizing on her plate, she'd already lost her appetite.

Taking a deep breath, she rose from the table and made her way over to Magliore. His back stiffened as she approached, tension radiating from every muscle in his body.

She stopped beside him. She wanted to reach out and touch him, offer him comfort, but she was afraid he'd pull away from her, and for some reason she didn't think she could handle that.

“I won't pretend to comprehend just how difficult this has been for you,” she began softly. “I don't have any siblings, and I've never had to look after my parents. They've always had each other for that. You've been taking care of your family ever since you were fourteen, and suddenly you're expected to relinquish that responsibility to virtual strangers? That
can't
be easy for you. I understand that, believe me, I do. All I'm asking is for you to be patient. After the hearing you and your family will be together again, even if I have to take you to them myself. I promise you that.”

An eternity seemed to pass before Magliore turned, fixing his penetrating eyes on her. “I just need to know that they're okay,” he said quietly. “I know I agreed to these terms when I brokered the deal, and the last thing I want is to put their lives in any more danger than I already have. But if there's any way you can let me talk to them for a minute, or get a message to them somehow—”

Lia started shaking her head even before he finished speaking. “It's too risky.”

“Please,” he implored huskily.
“S'il vous plaît.”

Lia stared up at him, seeing the desperation, the urgency, the naked vulnerability in his eyes. As the seconds ticked past, she felt something crumble inside her. She recognized it as the last of her resistance.

She blew out a deep, resigned breath. “Actually, there is a way you can safely communicate with your family.”

“How?”