The Specialist Read online

  “Glad to hear it.” She took a deep breath and gazed out over the grounds as though she saw something he’d failed to notice. “It’s been a lovely day.”

  It had been colder than a witch’s tit in a brass bra, but he didn’t disagree with her, merely smiled and walked inside. A merry blaze burned in fireplaces in the dining room to the left and the parlor to the right, sending a blanketing warmth from one side of the house to the other.

  Looking warm and happy, Harry stood at the antique check-in desk and spoke amiably to someone on the phone, presumably a potential customer. He offered a kind grin and waved at Payne as he walked in. Though it could have only been a product of his imagination, Harry had seemed genuinely happy to see him. Another perk to B&B service, Payne decided, making a mental note to consider checking out other family-run establishments as opposed to a hotel the next time he traveled.

  He supposed he’d always considered them a couples-only kind of place—and he’d never been a couples-only kind of guy—but if this was the standard level of service, then he didn’t give a damn if he traveled with a significant other or not.

  For whatever reason, an image of Emma’s elfin face sprang instantly to mind. He’d spent an exorbitant amount of time studying that profile today, had examined it from various vantage points, but the end result was always the same—he found her breathtaking at any angle.

  The clean line of her jaw, the smooth roundness of her cheek, the way her sleek dark brows rumpled into an adorable frown when he said something particularly provoking. Those mesmerizing smoky amethyst eyes had the singular ability to make the air thin in his lungs and deliver a blow to his equilibrium that could figuratively knock him off his feet.

  And her mouth.

  Sweet Lord.

  This morning when he’d snapped and kissed her, Payne had known that he’d made a serious tactical error. She’d tasted like hot tea and oranges. And the first feel of those ripe, soft lips against his had made his knees quake and his stomach slide into a violent, unexpected tailspin.

  If looking into those eyes the first time had rocked his foundation, then kissing her had fractured it.

  While Payne had never been the player Jamie had been before he married, or the girl-magnet Guy’s irreverent Maverick-like style attitude had always drawn, he’d nevertheless had his share of attention from the opposite sex. Quite honestly, he’d gotten more attention than he’d wanted, given that all he was interested in was a thorough tumble and a clean, uncomplicated goodbye immediately afterward.

  He had never spent the entire night with a woman and, unless he just completely lost his mind or became incapacitated, never intended to. Aside from being a Bachelor’s League mandate, there was something too intimate about the act. An implied trust he’d never achieved.

  Like any red-blooded man, he had a considerable sex drive and enjoyed the soft pleasures of a woman’s body as much as the next guy. Furthermore, given his type A predilections, the idea of not being at the top of his game in any area was unacceptable.

  That included lovemaking.

  Over the years he’d amassed quite a repertoire of skills when it came to bed play. Though he looked forward to the promise of an orgasm, Payne had mastered the art of delaying climax until after his partner had achieved it—it was bad form to leave a girl in the lurch, after all—and he hadn’t suffered any sort of close call or otherwise in years.

  Until today.

  Simply kissing Emma Langsford—the bane of his recent existence—had, unbelievably, initiated the launch sequence and if he hadn’t put her down when he had, Payne grimly suspected he would have made a noticeable mess in his jeans. As it was, she couldn’t have failed to notice the bulge in the front of them because he was relatively certain she’d felt it. Gratifyingly, she’d tried to wiggle closer to him. Payne would have liked nothing better than to have plopped her delectable bottom on top of a display case and taken her until her screaming orgasm milked his loins and she no longer had any doubt that he was in charge. He frowned broodingly.

  Clearly she was missing that particular point.

  Hours later, he still couldn’t explain his actions. One minute he’d been standing there, seething, and the next, when she’d made that ridiculous comment about “climbing up there and clobbering him”—her? Little, tiny her an actual match for him?—he’d been struck dumb by the incongruity of it all, and he’d done the first thing which had come to mind. He’d lifted her up and planted a kiss on that arrogant, outrageous, sinfully beautiful mouth of hers.

  The new challenge, of course, would be not doing it again.

  Frankly, for the first time in his life, Payne was worried about keeping his so-called iron will in control. He’d lost it more times in the last twenty-four hours than he had in his entire life. Emma was gorgeous and intriguing, witty and ruthless, sexy and vulnerable and something about the combination made him forget about being on guard. It made him want to know her better, of all damn things, when he shouldn’t give a damn about her one way or the other. It made him want to believe in the inherent goodness he saw in her, in addition to the drive.

  He wasn’t merely intrigued. Intrigue he could handle. Intrigue left him interested but still able to utilize good judgment. Unfortunately he’d bypassed intrigue and had gone directly into obsessed.

  Dangerous waters, he knew, and with every passing minute in her company he felt himself wading further away from the bank of his own self-control.

  He only hoped, when the moment came, that he’d remember how to swim.

  Atlanta

  “PAYNE’S IN TROUBLE,” Jamie announced with a bewildered scowl as he holstered his cell phone. The noise inside Samuel’s Pub, their usual beer and sandwich hangout, had forced him to take the call outside and he’d only just returned.

  Guy looked up from his hot wings and went on instant alert. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I don’t know who this chick is, but—” he started chuckling “—she’s completely knocked him off his game. She gave him the slip this morning.”

  Guy stilled and felt a slow disbelieving smile slide across his lips. “You’re shittin’ me.”

  “No, I’m not,” he said, plopping back down into his chair. “Don’t let me forget to take Audrey those hot wings she asked for,” he said absently. “She’ll kill me if I come back empty-handed.”

  Guy doubted that, but he had witnessed a particularly ugly mood swing from the usually even-tempered Mrs. Flanagan this morning, so he supposed it could happen. People had snapped over less, he knew. “Payne actually told you that? That Emma had given him the slip?”

  “Not initially,” Jamie said. “I could tell that he wasn’t in his regular dry ice form, so I kept pushing until he had to tell me.”

  That made more sense. Payne actually admitting to a failure of any kind had to be difficult, especially since, to Guy’s knowledge, his cool-headed friend had never made a mistake in his life. “How’d she do it?”

  “She kept him up all night, waited for him to get in the shower and then made her escape.”

  Guy selected an onion ring. “I warned him about her. She’s got a reputation for being relentless.”

  “That could simply be sour grapes from guys she’s bested,” Jamie scoffed, playing devil’s advocate. “You know better than to listen to rumors. Would Hastings have sent her if she wasn’t a good choice?”

  He supposed not. Still…Any woman who could trip up Brian Payne bore watching closely. “Has he asked for help?”

  Jamie took a swig of his Guinness. “No and I got the impression that he doesn’t want any. I don’t think he wants to have an unfair advantage by utilizing our services.”

  Guy smirked and shook his head. Noble bastard. Now that was the difference between the two of them. If he’d been in Payne’s position, he’d have everybody at Ranger Security helping him out. He’d use every possible advantage he had and wouldn’t give a damn whether it was fair or not. He’d complete the mission using any mea
ns possible, simply to be done with it. Half of Guy’s mouth hitched up in a grin. But that wasn’t The Specialist’s style. He’d always been so damned good at everything that he hadn’t had to get creative to make the end justify the means. Yet.

  Another thought struck him. “If he doesn’t want our help, why did he call?”

  Jamie chuckled. “Why the hell do you think? Just checking in, making sure everything is running smoothly in his absence.”

  That figured, Guy thought, not the least bit insulted. Guy knew it was killing Payne to be away, to surrender control of Ranger Security to the two of them. Payne had always been a control freak, but Guy and Jamie had both noticed that their friend seemed to have gotten worse since Danny’s death.

  First he’d thrown himself into getting out of the military and then he’d thrown himself into building Ranger Security and handling the renovations on their building and apartments. Knowing that he’d needed the distraction, Guy and Jamie had merely stepped back and let Payne manage—it was what he did best, after all. Handling the details had been Payne’s Novocaine. Until he’d found Audrey, sex had been Jamie’s.

  Guy had merely plowed ahead and hadn’t looked for a painkiller. He didn’t deserve one. He just planned to meet each day with the same stoic resolve he had since Danny had died, to deal with having the death of a friend on his hands as a deserved penance for his mistake.

  Like Jamie and Payne, he wanted to get his favor to Garrett over with, wanted that last tie to the military and that life he’d had before severed for good. But while he knew that Jamie had found peace after his mission was completed—with Audrey’s help, of course—and he suspected that Payne would be able to let go of some of his own guilt as a result of completing his last favor, Guy didn’t hold out any such hope. The ultimate forgiveness would have to come from within and he knew he’d never reach that place. How could he, when things had gone so terribly wrong? When, as senior officer, he’d been the one in charge and had gotten his friend killed?

  “Emma Langsford sounds familiar,” Jamie commented.

  “Maybe you slept with her,” Guy said, ribbing his friend about his prior sexual habits.

  “Shut up, you bastard,” Jamie told him, chuckling. “I’m serious. I’ve heard of her.”

  “She was Hastings’s ‘go-to’ girl. Like I said, she developed a reputation for being relentless, unpredictable and very, very lucky.”

  Jamie shot him speculative smile. “I remember hearing about her. She reminded me of someone at the time.”

  Guy frowned. “How could she remind you of someone when you’ve never met her?”

  “I’ve met her type.”

  “Her type?”

  Jamie took another drink and his lips slid into an unrepentant grin. “Right. She’s the feminine version of you.”

  Guy chuckled, recognizing the truth. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said.

  Jamie grunted. “Let’s just hope Payne isn’t.”

  9

  “ANY LUCK YET?” Colonel Hastings asked.

  Emma shouldered the phone, stood up and crammed her feet back into her shoes. After the wearing afternoon—not to mention The Kiss—her nerves had been frayed to the breaking point and she’d needed a long soak in a hot bubble bath for some perspective and a little time looking at the backs of her eyelids to recuperate.

  Perspective had been a no-show, but she did feel marginally rested after her brief nap. In fact, if Hastings hadn’t called for a “status report” she’d undoubtedly still be snoozing.

  “Not yet, sir,” Emma told him. Hell, she’d only been here a little over a day and had been having to contend with Payne—literally and figuratively—during that time. Sheesh. Surely he hadn’t expected immediate results. If the damned watch hadn’t been found in roughly 140 years, wasn’t it a tad unreasonable to expect her to locate it in less than twenty-four hours?

  “No worries,” Hastings assured her. “I’m sure you’ll find it first. Have you run into Major Payne yet?”

  Yes, Emma thought, letting go a shaky breath. Directly into his lips. Oy, mercy, but could the man kiss. “He’s staying at this B&B, as well,” Emma told him.

  Hastings laughed. “You’re right under his nose then. Does he have any idea who you are?”

  “Yes, sir. He does.”

  “Damn,” he swore, suddenly deflated. “How did he find out?”

  Emma glossed over her taking the Hummer part, which she was sure had ultimately outed her, and mentioned the Ranger Security connection instead. “This would have been helpful information to have,” she added, unable to disguise the slightly perturbed growl in her voice.

  “I was concerned that you’d be intimidated if you knew what line of work Payne had gone into post-military.”

  Be that as it may, he still should have told her. But she wasn’t interested in arguing the point. She’d already made hers.

  Instead, she quickly brought him up to speed on her progress. “I’ve covered the majority of the antique stores in and around town today, and am going to hit the rest tomorrow. If that search proves futile, then I’m going to go ahead and start sifting through the list of names from the auction house you’ve given me.”

  “Sounds like an excellent plan, Emma. Let me know how it goes. And don’t let Payne intimidate you. He’s just a man, after all, and you’ve proven you’re a worthy opponent for one of those before, haven’t you?”

  Emma felt a smile tug at her lips, heartened by his confidence. “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s my girl.” And with that parting comment, he disconnected.

  Though, like Payne, she didn’t appreciate the bet part of Hastings’s and Garrett’s machinations, she couldn’t deny that she had a lot of respect for Colonel Hastings and genuinely appreciated the opportunity he’d given her to finance her way into a better life.

  Provided she found the pocketwatch first, she would be shaving off at least three years of hard work and getting into vet school that much faster. Honestly, without this new start, who knew if she’d have ever gotten the chance? She’d like to think so—she’d always been determined—but the possibility of scratching the dream off as a lost cause or too expensive might have proved tempting. At any rate, love him or hate him, she appreciated the Hastings offer regardless of what Payne thought of the bet.

  Or, as much as she wished she didn’t care, what he would ultimately think of her.

  If she’d been a guy, no doubt he would have decked her instead of kissing her this morning. But since she’d been a woman and she’d pushed him past his coping point, he’d done the first thing he could think of to put her in her place—he’d lifted her right off the floor and kissed her—and if they’d been anywhere but in a public place, he would have had her on her back three minutes later. Perversely, she found herself disappointed that he hadn’t.

  Honestly, Emma thought. The way she’d reacted, you’d think she’d never been kissed before. Her silly heart had done a little cartwheel of joy, her bones had melted and every hair on her body had prickled as though she’d been hit with a slight electric charge. It had been a take-no-prisoners, shut-up-or-put-out siege that had absolutely rocked her world and shaken her senses.

  Or made her senseless, as the case may be, she thought with a wry smile. Because all she’d been able to think about since he’d ended the kiss was pissing him off enough to get another one.

  And another one.

  On her neck, her breasts, and needy, equally sensitive places farther south.

  In her secret fantasies about the legendary so-cool-he-was-hot former Ranger, Emma had always imagined him being a thorough and methodical lover. She’d imagined him taking his time, lingering, if you will, from one end of her body to the other. Inspecting, measuring, kissing, sucking and stroking her. Coaxing a flame, stoking a fire to a slow but steady fever pitch of sexual satisfaction. It had been a fabulous fantasy, complete with the occasional help-yourself orgasm on her part.

  Now she had to revise her fant
asy and, though she wouldn’t have thought it possible, she preferred the new one to the old. The new one featured a so-cool-he-was-hot legendary badass former Ranger coming unglued—for her.

  That kiss might have started out as a lesson for her—but it had swiftly morphed into something else altogether. His tongue hadn’t asked for entrance—it had demanded it. She’d tasted the need there, the sweet flavor of wild, primal desire and her own body had reacted in kind. An uncontrollable urge had spiked in her loins, licked through her veins, burning up any vestiges of ordinary sexual hunger. She’d wanted to devour him and, given that mouthwatering enormous bulge she’d felt against her belly, he’d been equally as hungry for her.

  As if things hadn’t been complicated enough, Emma thought with a helpless whimper. Now he had to go and throw that damned kiss into the mix. The kiss that made her want so much more.

  It gave an entirely new meaning to sleeping with the enemy.

  Emma’s stomach rumbled, reminding her of yet another hunger which hadn’t been satisfied today. Certain she wouldn’t have been able to get a raisin down her throat with a slingshot while she and Payne were joined at the hip—or at the ass, since he’d mostly followed her—Emma had elected not to stop for lunch, but had continued her search instead.

  Naturally, he’d been above something as trivial as food, so they’d plowed on throughout the day without stopping for so much as a sandwich. Thankfully she still had a couple of cookies left in her room from yesterday and had washed them down with a bottle of water she’d carried in her purse. But one muffin and two cookies didn’t a proper meal make and she was hungry. Norah, bless her accommodating heart, had flagged her down when she’d rushed back in this afternoon long enough to tell her that dinner would be ready at six.

  Emma glanced at the clock and saw that it was five minutes, to the hour. Close enough, she thought with a sigh, pushing up from her bed. No doubt Payne would be in the dining room already, but maybe she’d get lucky and end up seated on the opposite side of the room. The opposite side of the planet would probably be better for her sexual sanity, but that was too much to hope for.