The Manhattan Encounter

Chapter 4

Her mind finally caught up with her actions and Isabella came to the abrupt realization she was kissing Liam Steele. Kissing him!

Her lips opened on an “O” of surprise and he simply used the gesture as an opportunity to slide his tongue fully against hers.

It was madness.

It was bliss.

The subtle ping of the elevator door went off behind her and she abstractly felt herself being walked backward into a waiting car. Rationally, her mind knew what was happening but she couldn’t seem to hold on to a single thought as insistent bursts of need buffeted her like winds battering a ship at high sea.

On some odd dimension of her brain, her scientific mind registered what was happening. The accelerated heart rate that slammed into her chest. The tightening of her skin, resulting in aching nipples. The rush of liquid heat at her core.

But the woman who’d been denied those reactions for far too long felt something entirely different.

The hard flex of his muscles where her hands lay over his shoulders. The tension of his tongue thrusting between her lips in an erotic dance that had stars exploding before her closed eyes. And the warm, rich scent that filled her senses with an earthy heat she couldn’t quite define. Cedar? Tobacco? Fresh grass?

Nothing fit, even as she catalogued each of those earthy scents before discarding them.

He was Liam and the power she’d sensed in him was nothing compared to the experience of having him pressed against every inch of her body.

That tantalizing scent continued to swirl around her senses before she was jerked from the moment—

“I’m sorry.”

Sorry? “What?”

Her stomach curdled as if filled with sour milk as he put distance between the two of them, moving to the far side of the elevator car.

“I don’t know why my doorman isn’t at his post and I didn’t like the look of the man in the lobby.”

“You think—” she broke off, not trusting herself to speak. That pervasive sense of danger returned—blessedly absent for those few brief moments in his arms—and along with it, she now had the embarrassment of extreme naïveté. “You think it’s the same threat from the hotel.”

“We can’t rule it out.” The elevators swung open on his floor and Liam stepped through the door, his outstretched hand keeping her in place in the elevator. She waited as he did a sweep of the hall, then saw his head nod. “Come on.”

She followed him, her suitcase heavy against her hand, as they retraced their steps to his apartment.

A ruse.

The kiss was nothing but a ruse to fool this mystery man in the lobby that set Liam’s antennae off. Empirically she knew her reaction was not only silly but immature, but the lingering feel of Liam’s lips on hers was a haunting reminder of things she hadn’t felt in far too long.

Or ever, her conscience taunted.

Pushing it down, she walked past him into his apartment.

He was protecting her and obviously thought a kiss was the most expedient way to keep her hidden from a threat. That thought was only punctuated when he began barking out orders from his cell phone.

“Henri? Where were you?”

Isabella only caught Liam’s side of the conversation but it wasn’t hard to piece together what had happened. The man had obviously been summoned by a call and felt he could take it at such an early hour. No one had been in the lobby when he left his post, nor had anyone been there when he returned.

“Damn it.” Liam muttered the curse and looked up from his phone. “Henri didn’t see him.”

“What did he look like?”

“Someone who didn’t belong.” Liam’s words were swift before his fingers flew once more over his phone. He was equally direct with whomever answered. “It’s me. What did you find?”

Isabella walked toward the windows that rimmed the far side of the room. Once again, Liam snarled out a series of orders and questions, varying them up based on whatever response he received.

As she stared out over the London skyline, Isabella knew she was in capable hands. Liam Steele had taken on full responsibility for her safety and security.

So why did that thought leave her feeling so bleak?

* * *

Liam allowed his gaze to travel over Isabella’s taut form, silhouetted against the light from the window, before forcing himself to focus on his brother’s words.

“I can say it again and I can say it louder, but it’s not going to change the results, Liam. I found nothing on the hotel video feed that suggested someone went in or out of her room yesterday.”

“And you don’t think it was tampered with?”

“Not that I could tell.”

“Check again.”

“Damn it. I checked it twice and so did T-Bone. There’s nothing there.” Campbell spit out a few more expletives and Liam knew his pushing was only exacerbating an already tense situation.

“Do you believe she’s right about this?” Campbell softened his words. “I get she’s a scientist and precise and all that, but we’re talking about a few millimeters of space on a suitcase. Hell, she could have kicked it with her foot and moved it. Or the curtain could have been bunched up and it fell down.”

“That’s not it.”

He believed Isabella. Recognized something in her prescriptive attention to details.

And just when had he gotten so fanciful?

Liam knew his brother had a point. He also knew Campbell and the computer expert he kept on his team, T-Bone, knew what they were doing.

“Fine. We’ll keep digging. What has you upset now? You said something about a problem this morning.”

“I need you to check the video feed in my lobby. My doorman left his post and never saw a man come in and out of the lobby, but the guy was there when Isabella and I got off the elevator. I don’t like it.”

Campbell made quick work of the request, the cameras in all of their buildings already connected to his security feeds. Liam knew it wasn’t a common luxury afforded to all residents of his building, but when he’d demanded the additional access—and sweetened the deal with an incremental payment—the building’s ownership had been surprisingly willing to negotiate.

Add on the reduced surveillance services the House of Steele had readily negotiated for said building owners and they had a rather nice arrangement going.

“Nothing on the feed.”

“No one in the lobby at all?”

“I see the doorman take a call and leave his post. I see the lobby sit empty for a while and then I see him come back.”

“And no one’s there? Nor did you see me get out of the elevator.”

“Nope.”

“Then we have an even bigger problem than I thought.”

Another string of expletives echoed through the phone. “Bugger got through my security. I’ve got that feed programmed to alert me to any tampering.”

“And nothing popped?”

“No.”

Liam heard the frustration more clearly in his brother’s voice on that single word than all the ranting and cursing that had come before. “I’m calling for an escort to the airport and delaying our flight until tomorrow morning. Brief Kenzi and Jack on what’s going on and we’ll game-plan when I get in.”

“Be careful, Liam. Whoever’s behind this? This guy knows way more than he should.”

“Got it.”

He disconnected with his brother and for the first time had to question what was really going on. He’d faced tough jobs before—they all had—but this was on a different level.

And he couldn’t shake the fact that whoever was after Isabella knew the House of Steele was going to help her.

“I’m sorry about before.”

She turned away from the window, her hands still fluttering in the silky material of her blouse where it hung around her waist. He wasn’t sure why that constant worrying of her fingers had him intrigued, but it did. The subtle proof she was human touched him way more than it probably should.

“I take it your brother didn’t find anything.”

“Not yet.”

“And I take it he also doesn’t believe me when I say someone was in my room last night.”

Liam cycled through the conversation in his mind. He’d been more than careful to keep any indication from his side of the conversation that Isabella might have been wrong yet she’d sensed it anyway. “Campbell just likes to be sure. Especially when he can’t find a technological answer to the problem.”

“And I take it the lobby visitor wasn’t visible on your building’s cameras?”

“Right again.”

Her face fell at the news, whatever lingering hope that had shimmered in the depths of her green gaze fading. He could still taste her on his lips, the subtle flavor of her coffee a shocking aphrodisiac. The urge to give comfort had him crossing to her, determined to offer reassurance.

“Then I shouldn’t be putting you in danger. Or taking up even more of your time with a full day of delay.” Her subtle feint to the left ensured she maintained a physical distance between the two of them and he stilled, surprised by the stiff set of her shoulders.

Where was the responsive woman who’d clung to him, fully engaged and kissing him back?

And why did the sudden urge to drag her back into his arms pulse through him with the heavy throb of a line of bass drums?

Their eyes met and that bass throb amped up another level, pushing him to take some action. To reach out once more and touch her, just to see if she was as soft as he remembered. To see if her lips were as enticing...

Liam shook off the thought and took a few steps back.

Isabella Magnini was a job, nothing more. He’d take care of her and see his responsibilities through and move on. It was what he did and it was how he lived his life. He’d built a structured, orderly world around himself that he controlled.

And he’d be damned if a frightened woman who’d discovered the potential to unleash hell changed any of that.

* * *

Isabella stayed where she’d been told and watched Liam through the sliding doors of one of Heathrow Airport’s many concourses. As he’d confirmed with his brother, he’d made good on his plan of hiring an armed escort to take them to the airport and was now thanking the man for his services.

The exchange was brief but it gave her the opportunity to observe him in action. The late morning rain coated the air a misty gray yet he stood out against it, as bright and vibrant as the sun.

The long, trim lines of his body captivated her, but it was something beyond the physical—something far more ephemeral—that drew her in as she traced his form with her eyes.

Competence shone from him in the simplest of actions. His quick handshake with their guard. The flash of his hand as he snagged his rolling suitcase. Even the quick flick of his wrist as he brushed drops of rain from his hair.

All of it bespoke of a man comfortable with himself and his surroundings, secure in who he was.

Was that what made leaders? No, she quickly amended, that’s what made conquerors.

The idea took root and she let it simmer as Liam walked closer, evaluating him through that new lens. Their elevator kiss the day before had certainly reinforced the notion and the events since—the quick, competent change in plans, the work with his brother back at headquarters, even the possessive order to stand inside the doors and wait for him when they’d arrived at the airport.

Here was a man used to giving orders he expected would be followed.

So why was she letting the simple fact that their elevator kiss meant nothing to him chafe at her like sandpaper on skin?

The thought had kept up a steady tattoo in her brain for the better part of the last day, even in the face of the very real—and shockingly present—danger she was in. Even worse, she’d spent a near-sleepless night focused on that while he looked fit and ready to conquer the day.

“Ready?”

She nodded and knew full well his question was meant to indicate their walk to security, so why did she feel something more? Something deeper at the question?

Was she ready?

She’d hidden from life for so long—had willingly buried herself in work and nothing else—that she’d missed out on so much. Her twenties, certainly, and if she kept it up her thirties would end up a blur as well. A blur of lab notes and beakers, computer analyses and charts and graphs that might calculate any number of things but couldn’t assuage how lonely she was.

She was ready for something more and now that the life she hadn’t put much stock in was in danger, she knew that more keenly than ever.

Liam took her suitcase in his free hand and gestured her forward with a tilt of the head. “We’ll wait in the captain’s lounge after we check in.”

She reached for the handle but he was already out of range and she took a few quick steps to catch up, her heels clicking on the tile. “What difference does it make once we pass through security?”

“I don’t want you out in the open.”

She knew the lounge he spoke of—it was a premium environment for premium fliers—but she’d never been there. “Isn’t that the whole point of going through security?”

He stopped and turned, the blue of his gaze penetrating as he waited for her to catch up. If she wasn’t mistaken—and her ability to read social cues meant her chances were only about fifty-fifty on being right—he looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I don’t like to fly. The quiet of the lounge helps me calm down before a flight.”

“Oh.”

He turned on his heel with the bags and continued on toward the snaking security line, his gait stiff.

A small smile she couldn’t quite hold back sprang to her lips and the spiral of tension holding her stomach in a tight fist loosened ever-so-slightly. Maybe the conquering hero had an Achilles’ heel or two after all.

To a mere mortal such as herself, it was an oddly comforting thought.

* * *

Whatever momentary lapse in judgment had caused her to think Liam human fled the moment they sat down in the captain’s lounge to await their flight. At least eight women had given him the once-over with their eyes in the one-hundred-yard jaunt from security to the club and the elegant hostess manning the front desk—who was old enough to be his mother—had flirted like a blushing school girl.

“Would you like something?” Liam settled their bags under their table and stopped to wait for her answer.

“I’m fine, thank you.” She snagged her tablet—the one she used for fun—from the depths of her purse and snapped open the cover.

“It’s a long flight and the food here’s better.”

“Please help yourself. I’ll wait for the plane.”

A strange expression flitted through his gaze before he seemed to think better of responding and headed for a wall-length counter filled with every sort of food imaginable.

The moment his gaze was averted, she appraised the counter full of food and knew she’d been hasty. Fresh fruit. Cookies. Even hot sandwiches filled the wall and her stomach let up an unladylike growl in indignation of being ignored.

She nearly gave in and followed him when a tall, statuesque woman sidling up to the counter filled her line of vision. The woman’s gaze was predatory and her wide mouth spread into a welcoming grin as she moved next to Liam. Isabella was too far away to hear the conversation but there was no way she was mistaken on the woman’s body language.

No, sir-ee.

Every line in the woman’s slender frame screamed out an invitation. And judging by the appreciative grin on Liam’s face, he didn’t mistake the offer.

Isabella refocused on her tablet and ignored the unfolding flirtation. She was Liam Steele’s client, nothing more. She had a problem and it was his job to fix it.

End of story.

The words on the screen jumbled in front of her eyes as her vision swam with the memories of their kiss and she blinked to refocus. Slowly, the chapter heading came back into view and she threw herself into the story of a roving space pirate and the female cantina owner determined to help him put his sketchy past behind him.

She’d been enjoying the story up to now, the author a personal favorite. In her mind’s eye, she’d fleshed out the big bad space pirate as a cross between Harrison Ford and Channing Tatum. How insulting, then, when he morphed in her mind to bear a striking resemblance to Liam.

Couldn’t her books even be off-limits?

With a resigned sigh—and a willingness to eat a portion of crow along with a fresh sandwich from the serving bar—she glanced up into Liam’s warm gaze.

“Problem?”

“Of course not. I just decided I was hungry after all. I’ll just go up and get something.”

“Then it’s a good thing I got you a sandwich and a banana.” He pulled a plate from behind his back, the promised sandwich filled to the brim with fresh-cut turkey, what appeared to be slices of pear and a wedge of soft cheese.

She took the proffered sandwich and fought the petty urge to go up and get something different. Good heavens, what was wrong with her? Her mother might have spent most of Isabella’s childhood thoroughly disengaged but even she’d managed to raise a child who was well-mannered and gracious.

Not to mention thankful when someone did something nice.

After she swallowed a bite, she set down her plate and turned to face Liam. “Thank you. The sandwich is delicious.”

“They know how to send a traveler off in style here.”

“Yes, they do.” She used his comment as an excuse to look around the lounge and away from the intense scrutiny of his gaze but his voice pulled her back to the here and now.

“We should get into JFK a little before two. My sister Kensington and her fiancé, Jack, are picking us up themselves.”

“Okay.” While the extra attention still felt unnecessary and overblown, Liam’s caution overrode any protests she might have.

“I’d like you to stay at the family house tonight.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I think it is. I’d also like you to give us keys to your apartment. Jack and I can go over and check things out tomorrow. He’s in security as well. Between the two of us, we know what to look for and how to suss out any threats.”

“I’ll go with you, of course.”

“I’d prefer you stayed behind.”

Whether it was lingering frustration over the long-legged Amazon and her smooth moves or the sheer insult of being left behind while someone investigated her home, she didn’t know.

She was fast hitting a point where she didn’t care, either.

“It’s my home. I appreciate your guidance but I believe, as your client, I still have final say. I’m going with you.”

“Isabella—”

“No. I’m not leaving you to walk through my apartment and look through my things while I sit and do nothing.”

“Someone’s proven themselves a threat to you on several occasions and, by all accounts, with increasing severity. You’re better off staying where we can control the situation.”

“I’m not negotiating this with you. I need to get inside my apartment and see if anyone was there. Besides, I won’t be scared away from my own home.”

“And I’d like you to be reasonable and let me do my job.”

She pushed her plate aside and leaned over the small table, her gaze direct. “No, Liam, I won’t be reasonable. Or pliable. Or pitiful. I may not be some athletic Amazon like Blondie over there,” she tossed her head in the direction of the woman from the serving counter, “but I know my own mind and I know this. You’re not going into my home without me.”

“Blondie?”

“Excuse me for being vague. I was referring to the statuesque blonde who almost had her tongue down your ear.”

“I believe her name’s Stella.”

“Of course it is.”

“She’s an old college acquaintance of my sister’s who thought she recognized me and came over to say hello.”

“How sweet.” Isabella flung a hand, nearly knocking over her plate in the process. “Why don’t you go get reacquainted?”

“Since she’s leaving on a tropical vacation with her boyfriend, I’m not sure either would appreciate the intrusion.”

Isabella looked over to where the blonde had sat down and had the distinct mortification of watching the woman run her hands over the rather large and imposing chest of a man she clearly had feelings for.

Damn it all to hell and back.

A few other choice expletives floated through her mind in rapid succession at, once again, being caught out of her depth. “How lovely for her.”

“Quite.”

She took a sip of the soft drink he’d brought her and willed the mortification to fade as quickly as possible. The cold slide of sugar coated her parched throat and while it couldn’t quite beat the heat of embarrassment flushing up her neck, it did make her feel a bit better.

“I don’t think you’re pitiful, Isabella.”

“Thank you.”

“And for the record?” A small smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, those blue irises twinkling. “I sure as hell don’t think you’re pliable, either.”

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