CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Genevieve~
Genevieve’s mind was racing. What was going on? Whoever those two muggers had been, they had been expected. Not just by Grant, but by the black ops team that had taken them into custody. And by Dan, who had repelled them at the stage door.
She might be the lowliest of decoders, but she knew better than to ask questions about what had just occurred. Not in the back of a limo. Not at Christmas dinner. Maybe not ever. She had no illusions about that upcoming debriefing. She would be providing information, not receiving any. No one would give a damn if Capt. Carson was frustrated by her lack of knowledge. Suck it up, Buttercup.
She tried for casual. “What about Helena Del Court? Won’t she be expecting us?”
What had she said? Grant looked furious. “I have no idea what Helena’s plans are for this evening, but they do not include me or you.” His voice was stiff.
“Oh.”
“But we will have to eat at the hotel, I’m afraid. Our reservations have expired. If you will excuse me.” He turned on his cell and spoke to whoever answered his call. “No, no, Herr Mann, there is no problem. I was making sure my reservation had been canceled. I know how busy you are tonight. My manager? Herself? Her assistant? Perfectly proper, Herr Mann. And the same to you and your staff.”
Grant put his phone away. “Someone has been busy,” he remarked.
“Your manager’s assistant?”
“Linda has no assistant,” Grant said grimly.
“Ah.” She had better change the subject. Presumably Heinz’s ears were flapping.
“You had better make sure Gilmore got home safely.”
Obediently she opened her black bag, half-astonished that she still retained her grip on it. “He won’t be home yet. It’s only 2215.”
“Try him anyway.” It was a command.
She hit speed dial. Dan answered on the first ring. “Gilmore.”
“It’s Genevieve, Dan. Is everything okay? Are you home?”
“Yes, and yes. How about you? Enjoying your supper party?”
“I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. Good night.”
The limousine pulled into the hotel’s U-shaped drive. Heinz helped her out. Grant’s hand at her elbow balanced her broken heel.
“Happy Christmas, Heinz.” He dismissed the driver. “We’ll speak to the concierge and get your cape and boot taken care of.” He hefted the garbage bag.
Genevieve limped into the lobby and changed into her evening shoes while Grant spoke to the concierge. The cape was lamented over. Likewise her boot. Grant returned to the silvery gray velvet couch where he had left her.
“They will do their best. But it is Christmas Eve. The concierge wasn’t hopeful that we could get them back until the twenty-sixth.” He smiled and drew her to her feet. “Let’s go upstairs. I need to at least change my shirt.” His clasp was warm and firm, but his voice was anything but loverlike.
Despite the grandeur of the hotel, her elegant evening seemed to be fizzling before her eyes. Grant’s flirtatiousness had vanished. He herded her toward the bank of elevators in a thoroughly businesslike manner.
“I could just go home,” she managed.
“Not tonight,” he said. Her heart sped up.
“Not after what just happened,” he continued, shattering her hopes. “You’ll be safer here than where they expect you to be.”
His suite was as opulent as the consulate’s finest reception rooms. The spacious living room held gilded furniture and plush sofas set across from one another. Grant took off his raincoat and tossed it onto a velvet armchair. Genevieve gasped. His jacket and shirt had split to reveal his skin.
“As bad as that?” he asked absently. He massaged his right shoulder with his left hand.
“You’re hurt?”
“Some.”
She trailed after him into his bedroom. It held a king-sized bed and more highly polished and gilded furniture. He took her hand and dragged her into the bathroom. White marble, gray and white porcelain tiles, and gold fittings were quietly opulent. Grant turned the water on full blast. It roared into the sink.
He removed his jacket. “Mind telling me who those guys are?” He spoke over the faucet.
“I thought you knew! You seemed to be expecting them. You and Dan.”
He pulled the studs out of his cuffs. “I know they came to the Alte Oper looking for you. And they followed you from the hall to the stage door.”
“Dan stopped them.”
“I know. I saw it on the monitor. Who knew you and Gilmore were going to the Messiah tonight?”
“Half the Consulate, I should imagine. It wasn’t a secret.” When discussing your work was treason, you naturally kept to safe topics. She and Dan had bragged about knowing Grant.
“Those guys are Bulgarians. They were after you or Gilmore. And they knew you would be there. You’d know better why.”
“But I don’t.” She knew even less about Dan’s job than about most other attachés. She had surmised he was military intelligence, but she didn’t know. “I can’t imagine why they came after me. I’m entirely unimportant.”
“Not to me,” he said grimly. “My guess is that they didn’t know Dan was going straight home. They set it up so that they could grab him and wound up with us instead.”
She hedged. “Maybe. Let’s face it, we’re never going to know. Thank goodness someone sent those commandos to rescue us.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What did you say you do at the consulate?”
“If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.”
He shook his head. “Not you too?”
“Me too, what?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Let’s just kill each other and be done with it.”
“Like that, is it?”
“Uh huh.” Grant slipped the last of the studs from the shirt placket and dumped them all on the marble counter. He shrugged off his shirt. His left shoulder was red and puffy and the skin was broken.
“You are hurt!”
“My thug was wearing brass knuckles. He got in a lucky punch.”
She rolled her eyes at the macho posturing, but her fingers touched the bruise lightly. “You need an ice pack.”
He pressed her hand over his wound. “Your touch will do.”
As if. “At least let me clean it up.”
“I smell like a prizefighter after the tenth round. I am going to take a long hot shower. Will you join me?”
She swallowed hard. She was tempted. Heaven knew she was tempted. But if she was going to have casual sex, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be with Grant D’Angelo. That way lay disaster.
He sighed. “I’m rushing you.” He lifted her onto the cold marble countertop and kissed her.
The touch of his lips on hers was everything she had ever dreamed it would be. She barely noticed when he stretched out a hand and turned the water off and swept her against his hot and sweaty body. He did smell as if he had had a workout. Probably so did she.
She forgot about that as his hot tongue dueled gently with her own and he angled her head so he could taste her more thoroughly. She forgot that she wasn’t a blonde bombshell. Her world narrowed to the fire between them. Her vag pulsed cold and hot, ramping up her desire. She leaned into the kiss she had waited for all her life.