Alexa

“If you don’t find some hot guy to shag tonight, then I’ll find one for you.” Lori nudged me with her hip as she raised her champagne flute to her lips. She was pregnant, although you wouldn’t be able to tell from her high-waisted, shimmering pink princess gown. So, unlike me, her champagne flute was filled with water.

“Babe, there’s not a chance in hell I’m going home with any bloke from this party tonight.” I took a sip of my drink, enjoying the sensation of the bubbles popping in my chest on the way down. I scanned the crowded room, which was filled mostly with rich and uppity men with whom I wouldn’t want to spend one hour with, let alone a whole night.

No, I preferred a real man. A man who knew how to use his hands, and not just to tap at a keyboard and trade stock, or whatever the hell it was that most of the men at this party did. Of course, some of the guys in here were athletes, too, but they weren’t my flavor, either.

Although my sister’s fiancé, football player, Sean Houseman, seemed an all right sort.

It had been so long since I’d even seen a man naked, perhaps the time had passed when I could be so damn choosy. Maybe I wouldn’t even recognize a man when I saw him.

But I was on holiday. What would be the harm in getting laid?

“What about him? I don’t recognize him.” Lori was pointing to a guy at the bar who was wearing a tux. His broad shoulders filled out the jacket well . . . hell, more than well. My gaze trailed up his tan throat to his hard jaw.

He was studying the drink in his hand instead of looking at the man who was chatting him up. He looked bored, or at least not in the least bit interested in what the man to his left was saying. He was standing probably twenty meters away from me, but when he looked up from his drink, his eyes found mine. It was as if the crowd parted before us, and he and I were alone. “Holy shit, he’s looking at you.” Lori’s sharp elbow jabbed me in the ribs.

“Jesus, Lori.” I winced. She’d caught me right in the scar. It didn’t hurt anymore, but I still felt sensitive about the area. I frowned, no longer interested in sex.

“What’s wrong?” Lori asked, coming around to look me in the eyes.

“Nothing. So, how’re sales?” I asked instead. She’d had her debut art gallery show a few months ago. I went into a completely different field than her.

Shit, I didn’t want to think about work right now. Otherwise, I might as well just skip the party and head back to HQ. Part of me wanted to say screw the holiday. I had to work straight through Christmas and up to New Year’s Eve, though, but I still didn’t think I needed a week off. What would I do with a whole bloody week?

“Your diversionary tactics won’t work on me, sis. I think you should—”

Lori had fallen silent, and when I looked up, I realized why.

The not-so-stuffy guy in a tux was standing in front of me. He was holding a champagne flute, extending it toward me. It was good timing on his part—my glass appeared to be empty.

Lori didn’t miss a beat. She snatched my glass and flitted off, probably in search of Sean.

“Would you like another, ma’am?”

If I had anything in my mouth, I would have choked. “Did you just call me ‘ma’am’?” Dimples popped in his cheeks as he smiled, and I think my heart skipped about three beats.

“I could call you something else if you’d prefer.” He was still holding the drink between us, and I stood stupidly staring at him instead of reaching for it.

The man was American. Most likely Southern, based on the soulful way he spoke. I’d played the part of an American Southern girl on an OP two years ago, and I had to watch a few movies and practice the accent. I probably spent only half of my job behind the computer screen where I belonged, and the other half working on my acting skills.

“My arm’s getting tired,” he prompted.

Sure, it was.

“Maybe you’d like something else?” He smiled again. No—his eyes smiled. Wow. And what eyes . . .

The idea of a shag was starting to seem more and more appealing.

“Thank you.” I finally took the drink and brought the rim of the glass to my lips, but I couldn’t help but notice his hands. They were strong and masculine—hands that could touch a woman . . . and protect one, too.

Although I can protect myself perfectly fine, thank you.

“I should get back to my friends. Thanks for the drink.” Although it wasn’t like he’d bought it—the drinks were complimentary. But it was still a nice gesture.

“No name?” he asked after I had turned.

I peeked over my shoulder at him. “Ma’am works,” I said, chuckling.

Just then, I realized the room was buzzing to life. The countdown had begun. When had it gotten so close to midnight?

I faced the American again. “Ten. Nine. Eight . . .” He winked at me as he counted with the crowd. “Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One . . .”

The room exploded with “Happy New Years,” but my mystery guy was simply staring at me. Bursts of dandelion yellow and pinkish-red confetti fell over his head and shoulders. His lips parted, and he swiftly moved toward me and lowered my glass to the bar top table. He tipped my chin up, moving his lips to mine.

Oh, God, a New Year’s kiss. How cliché . . .

Then I tightened my grip on the edge of the table as his lips slanted over mine because I thought I’d damn near collapse from the heat. He stepped closer, and his hand came around to my back, tugging me firm against his body. My mouth opened, giving him entrance. He could do whatever the hell he pleased at that moment.

“Mm.” I had moaned against his lips before my tongue swept inside his mouth, and I became energized, filled with sudden need. He held me firmly as we kissed, my breasts feeling suddenly constrained in the bodice of the burgundy silk gown. I wanted his hands all over me. I wanted him to touch me everywhere.

When the kiss ended, I stood like a transfixed teen, totally stunned. I wasn’t some primary school kid, though, I was a damn agent for Her Majesty’s service. How had a simple kiss brought me to such a state? I felt almost . . . innocent.

“Can I have a name now?” He took another step back as he pushed his jacket back a little, shoving his hands into his pockets.

I stole a second by reaching for my half empty glass of champagne. And then an extra few seconds by finishing off the glass. I usually wasn’t much of a drinker, but after that kiss, I could’ve used a bucket of ice water over my head to cool me off.

“You have to earn the name,” I said before turning away from him. I couldn’t resist a quick look over my shoulder at him as I walked, however. His lips curved into a beautiful smile that shone brightly in those insanely deep brown eyes.

Oh, God, was I in trouble.

* * *

Jake

“Jesus,” I muttered as Alexa wrapped her legs around my hips and we fell backward onto my hotel bed.

I had been wrong. So very, very wrong.

Misconception one: English women are straight-edge prudes.

Misconception two: An English woman at such an elitist party would never hook up with a stranger, let alone an American.

Misconception three: If you kiss a strange woman, you’ll get slapped.

Okay, so I wasn’t about to test the third one again anytime soon. But so far, the night was going far better than I had expected when my baby sister forced me to come with her to the party tonight.

I looked up at Alexa as she knelt over me, working at the buttons of my dress shirt. I propped a hand behind my head and studied the firecracker of a woman I’d met only two hours ago. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, but she was also making it pretty damn difficult to see anything else. She was wearing only her lace bra and panties. Her hazel eyes fused to mine like she owned me.

“You’re beautiful.” As she took a moment to unclip her bra, my eyes dipped down to admire her breasts. A scar on her hip bone caught my eye, and I couldn’t help but smooth my finger over the faded line.

Alexa startled at the touch, and she started to scoot off me. I sensed her panic, and I raised my hands in the air between us. “Sorry.”

“Kiss me,” she commanded, her eyes narrowing.

I swooped a hand up and cupped the back of her neck, bringing her back down to me. “I’m going to kiss you all night,” I whispered before nipping her pouty bottom lip with my teeth. I could taste her sweet champagne when our mouths met again, and I wondered if I should stop myself. Was she drunk? Hell, I knew I was.

Damn.

It took all my willpower to stop kissing her. “I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’ve been drinking and—”

Alexa sat up a little, wiggling her firm butt against my cock. The woman was going to kill me.

“Don’t worry, love, it’s me that’s probably taking advantage of you.” And then she crushed her lips against mine once again.

* * *

Alexa

I scooped up my silk gown as quietly as possible before stepping down into it, trying not to wake Jake as I made my escape.

“I hope you’re just planning on getting dressed for breakfast. Although I thought breakfast in bed would be more fun.”

Shit. I turned at the sound of his deep, sexy voice as I slipped the straps of my gown over my shoulders. “I was leaving, actually.” I took an extra step back from the bed, needing to put distance between us so I could hold fast to my resolve. He sat up in the bed and pulled the covers down, offering me the warm spot next to him.

At the sight of his golden, muscular chest, my fingernails bit into my palms. The man had a body that was meant to be enjoyed. He should have been posing nude for artists. Maybe my sister could paint him. The thought almost made me chuckle as I imagined this strong Southern gentleman sitting naked on a stool while my sister tut-tutted over him.

“What?” A smile teased his lips.

I could feel my cheeks warming, and I found myself moving back toward the bed—I couldn’t resist the pull of him. “Nothing, I was just picturing . . . something.”

“Oh yeah?” He shifted his hands up to his chest and clasped them together as his eyes bore down on me. Hah, as if anyone could read me. It was my job to make sure that they couldn’t.

And that was reason number six hundred and fifty-seven why relationships with civilians never worked for me. I’d been there, done that, and almost got killed in the process.

My stomach flipped bloody somersaults as I remembered my ex. What a mood killer.

“You can’t leave now. I mean, not after last night.” He cleared his throat and grinned. “Although I guess it was this morning.”

“Last night was a—”

He raised a hand, his palm facing me. “By far the best part of my trip here.” Another smile skirted his lips, which had me wetting mine.

“I don’t even remember what happened,” I lied.

He leaned back against the tall, dark walnut headboard, his eyes drilling into me. “You don’t remember kissing me? I mean, you started this whole thing, so I—”

“The bloody hell I did. You . . .” Shit. Did he really just rope me so easily? “Funny.” I couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t every day a man could knock me off my game. In this case, it kind of felt good.

I was starting to enjoy my vacation.

“What do you English call making out, again? Snogging?” He mimicked my accent, and I laughed. A deep, belly laugh. Whoever managed to win this man’s heart over would be one lucky woman.

“Snogging makes me think of two dogs rubbing their noses together. Not very romantic,” he teased, probably hoping to bait me. And it was working.

“So, if I were to say I wanted to snog you right now, you’d say no?” I raised a brow and moved to the bed until my thighs met the mattress.

He tilted his head and closed an eye. “Okay, so when you say it, standing there in your dress that hugs every curve of your body like it was designed by God to fit you, well . . . damn woman, it sounds hot!” He gave me one of his incredible smiles again, and it was like sin had been handed to me on a silver platter. How could I say no?

I touched the straps of my gown and shrugged them down. Jake’s eyes became darker, glinting with passion as the material fell to my feet. I was only in my knickers, and I had to bet he’d find that word amusing as well. “Should I take off my knickers?” I deepened my voice, faking a Southern accent.

He rubbed a hand down his jaw and swallowed. “Your accent is much better than mine.” He laughed. “And the answer to your question is hell yes.”

* * *

Jake

“How much did that cost?”

I waited for the doors to close before I moved up behind her, resting my hand on the small of her back as she looked out the window and down below at the water as we began to rise. We were inside a giant Ferris wheel known as the London Eye, which looked like a huge spoked bicycle wheel. “I wanted you alone in here. Couldn’t stand to share you and this view with a bunch of tourists.”

“And what are you?” She looked over at me, and her full lips parted, offering me her smile. God, the woman was gorgeous. I wrapped my arms around her back, and our fingers twined, our hands splayed over her stomach. “I’d like to think of myself as a visitor . . . although I’d like to come back again.”

She stiffened against me, the very embodiment of her hesitation. Maybe she felt differently about me but damned if I couldn’t picture letting this woman go. We’d spent six nights together, and I’d barely seen my little sister, even though she was the whole reason I’d come to London. But, as much as I wanted to extend my stay, I had an undercover OP coming up. I had to start hunting some scumbag who possibly had sworn allegiance to Ansari, an ISIS leader.

“I can’t believe you leave today.”

She had decided to avoid my hint and I took a step back, releasing my hold. I stepped around her and pressed a hand to the glass window. The city was spectacular, laid out before us.

“Jake.” Her hand on my back had me straightening my spine, angry at myself for giving into the strange feelings that filled me whenever we were together. I’d never fallen for a woman in a week. Hell, I’d never really fallen for any woman. And Alexa . . . shit, there was an ocean between us. How would this work? We hadn’t talked about it, and I was about to leave. Wasn’t it worth mentioning?

Maybe she didn’t feel the same way. There was something mysterious about this woman, and I wanted to discover her secrets—what lay beneath her gorgeous body, her beautiful face, her laugh, her fire, her quick intelligence. I wanted to know the real Alexa. But I needed more time to get through to her—time I didn’t have.

And how could I explain to her that it was my job to hunt down terrorists?

“This week—well, it took me by surprise. This was the first time I’ve been unplugged from work, and you gave me the chance to see what life could be like if—”

I spun to face her, but when her lips pressed tightly together, I realized she would never finish that sentence. The woman shut herself off to people, even though she had opened up to me in small pieces, each time pulling me deeper under her spell. “If what, Alexa?” My hand came down over her forearm as I met her hazel eyes.

“Mm. Jake. Let’s just enjoy the last hour we have together.”

One hour? The thought was unbearable.

“Just kiss me, okay?” Her chest rose and fell with slow breaths. “Kiss me one last time, Jake,” she said softly.

“No.” I shook my head. “But I’ll kiss you for now, until next time . . .”