Isabel was acutely conscious of Adam just behind her as she climbed the steep wooden stairs to the third floor. The moment she’d first seen him sitting on the stool at the bar, her breath had caught in her chest. In all the years she’d known Adam, worked with him, she’d never seen him out of uniform.
Clad in a tight pair of worn black jeans and a black T-shirt that hugged the hard, well-defined muscles of his torso, he had looked as dangerous, as on the edge as any man in the room. The scruffy growth of whiskers that darkened his jawline only added to his dangerous appeal.
And that kiss. Heat swept through her as she thought of that moment when Adam’s lips had claimed hers. How many times had she fantasized about kissing him? Her fantasies hadn’t even begun to live up to the real thing.
Nothing she’d experienced so far in her life had prepared her for the utter pleasure and intense excitement of Adam’s kiss. In that single kiss, he’d claimed more than her lips, he’d stolen her breath and touched her frantically beating heart.
Adam didn’t say a word as they made their way up, but she felt an angry tension rolling off him. She’d worked with Adam often enough in the past to recognize when he was angry. But, this time she wasn’t sure what was causing his anger. So far their undercover subterfuge seemed to be working just fine.
By the time they reached the third floor she was slightly out of breath. She didn’t know if it was from the physical exertion of climbing the stairs or her mind playing and replaying that kiss over and over again in her head.
She found their room and inserted the key into the lock. When she shoved open the door, she couldn’t help but release a sigh of dismay. The place was a dump.
They stepped inside, and Adam closed the door behind them. “What did you expect? The Ritz?” he asked. His voice was curt, clipped.
“At least it looks relatively clean,” she replied. It was true, the room was small, holding only a double bed, a cigarette-scarred nightstand and a lumpy chair. The only light in the room was an ugly lamp with a shade that sat askew. But, the carpet was clean and the room held the scent of a pine cleanser.
She peeked into the tiny bathroom. No tub, just a miniscule shower stall, but this room also looked clean. She turned and looked at Adam, who stood in the center of the room with a frown marring his handsome face. “It’s not so bad,” she said. “It could be worse.”
“No, it’s not so bad,” he agreed, but she wasn’t fooled by his affable reply. “And it doesn’t really matter if it’s bad or not because we are not going to stay here,” he added.
Isabel looked at him in astonishment. “What are you talking about? Of course we’re going to stay here. It’s part of the plan.”
“It’s a ridiculous plan, and what have you done to your hair?” He looked at her as if she were an alien from another planet.
She reached up and touched a strand of her bright copper hair. “It’s a rinse. The directions said it would wash out in a couple of weeks. It’s part of my disguise.”
“And what about those clothes? Where on earth did you get them?” His gray eyes glittered like hot metal in the sunshine. “You look like…you look like…”
“I look nothing like a princess,” she interrupted.
“And that was the whole idea.” She frowned. She’d been so pleased at her selections, certain that her clothes would allow her to fit right into the crowd in the bar.
“Half the men in the room were ready to make a move on you,” he exclaimed, his eyes stormy seas of anger.
She shrugged, surprised yet oddly pleased by this piece of information. “Really? But that’s good then. It means my disguise worked.”
He eyed her ruefully. “Isabel, they probably thought you were a working woman and wondered what kind of fee you charged.”
“You mean they thought I was…I am…a hooker?” she squeaked and sank down on the edge of the bed. “Maybe I did overdo it a bit,” she admitted ruefully and looked down at her tiny skirt and midriff top. “But, at least it worked, nobody recognized me as a princess.” She flashed a smile in hopes of breaking the tension.
He didn’t return the smile, but rather began to pace in front of her. Clad all in black, he looked like a dangerous panther seeking an escape route.
Isabel waited for him to speak, knowing he wouldn’t until he had his thoughts in order. It was one of the things that had always driven her crazy about him. Adam never did or said anything spontaneously.
He finally stopped pacing and stood before her. “I won’t allow you to do this, Isabel.”
She stood and narrowed her eyes, rebelling against the authoritative tone of his voice. “You won’t allow me to do this?” she asked.
She stepped so close to him she could feel the heat radiating from his body, see the tiny silver flecks that gave his gray eyes a magnetic depth. “You forget, Adam. You aren’t my commanding officer anymore. You can’t stop me from doing this.”
“That’s true.” His gaze focused on her lips and suddenly the thought of the kiss they had shared filled her mind.
Without her volition she licked her lips, her mouth unaccountably dry. “I intend to do this, Adam, with or without your help. Either you are with me or you are against me.”
He took a step back from her and raked a hand through his short hair in obvious frustration. “You know I can’t walk out and leave you alone in this place.”
She nodded, a sense of relief flooding through her. “Then you’re with me.”
“You’ve given me very little choice,” his voice was rich with irritation. “I’m with you on one condition,” he said. His gaze didn’t quite meet hers. “You promise me you won’t wear that outfit again. I don’t want to have to battle the wise guys in this place for your honor.”
“And you would do that? Fight for my honor?” she teased.
“Of course I would,” he replied instantly. “It’s my job to protect and serve the king and his family.”
Isabel wasn’t sure why, but his answer disappointed her. He never forgot his position as a commanding officer in the Royal Edenbourg Navy. Just once, she wished he would forget their respective positions, forget duty and responsibility and meet her simply as a man meeting a woman.
“Did you get some background information from Ben?” he asked.
She nodded and reached for her duffel bag. Clothing spilled out onto the bed as she dug in the bottom for the papers that contained material they would need in their attempt to connect with Shane Moore’s associates.
She pulled out the papers, stuffed the clothes back into the bag, and then patted the space next to her for Adam to sit. He eased down next to her, bringing with him a scent of minty soap and spicy cologne. She held the papers out before her and he leaned into her to read them with her.
“This is the list of the names of people we now know were associates of Shane’s,” she said, trying to focus on the business at hand and ignore how warm his thigh was against hers despite the barrier of his jeans.
“We already made contact with Willie Tammerick. Here’s the information Ben was able to pull up on him.” She shuffled the papers, her fingers becoming all thumbs as Adam leaned even closer, his shoulder rubbing hers.
“No surprises there,” he murmured. “The man has a history of arrests for drunk and disorderly, public nuisance and disturbing the peace.”
His breath was warm on the side of her face and again she found herself remembering their kiss. His mouth had been so hot and had tasted of a hunger that had momentarily stolen her breath away.
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