Page 172 of Summer Heat
Sugar laughed again. “You only know what you think you saw. Just like what she saw with me and you.”
“That’s different.”
“Why? Because we’ve screwed?”
He shrugged. “Well, yeah.”
“Big fucking deal, Cash. So the woman’s had sex. Unless you walked in and—”
“I can’t believe I’m talking to you about this shit.”
“Bang out another mag. You’ll feel better.”
He slammed in the fresh magazine and turned down range. Before the safety flip, he called to Sugar as her heels clacked away.
She popped her head back into his stall. “Yeah?”
/> “Why don’t you ever have someone serious? You and me. You and whoever. It’s never serious and steady.”
“Cause it’s more fun that way.”
“Truth. Why not?”
“Cause it’d take some asshole with big boots and a big cock to tie me down.” She winked at him. “You’re lacking the attitude problem, as is every other man out there. So, I do my thing and don’t lose a wink of sleep at night. It was fun, Cash, and I suspect we won’t happen ever again. At least I’m hoping not, cause I kinda like that Garrison girl.”
His gut twisted. I kinda liked her too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The hangar and private jet looked the big money part. Nicola shifted in her Ferragamo heels, ready to get this trip over and into the done column.
The catering company loaded the last cart broadside, and Nicola figured the trip had another upside. Playing the part of a well-to-do socialite also meant an onboard chef ready to make some five-star dinner as they flew overseas. Lobster. This trip called for some serious lobster and something with truffles in it.
After the Town Car dropped her off, Nicola had breezed through the private check-in for charter flights out of Dulles International. The TSA woman had been far more intrigued with Nic’s new Tom Ford sunglasses than her almost-the-real-deal credentials. She’d have to thank Beth for airbrushing the headshot. Her skin looked flawless, and there was no way someone would call her passport and license fake. They were as genuine as you could get, considering they were made by the U.S. government.
Her cover name for the trip was Sarah Beth Pennington. Pretty, with an old money flair. Not too memorable, but specific enough to provide support for another CIA undercover team who needed an additional layer of back story. Plus, she could keep this round of designer duds. That included this very cute, very out of her price range, Jil Sander shirt dress that she now rocked. It fitted and flared in all the right spots. Cash would’ve liked it. Too bad.
It didn’t go unnoticed that a few items in her Louis Vuitton luggage didn’t fit and weren’t intended to. Beth hadn’t purchased Nicola’s long legs petite-sized pants for nothing. Nope. Beth was the petite one, and that was all right with Nic. She eyed her carry-on. The luggage was a loaner. It’d have to be returned. Eventually.
“Gabriella,” David the Butler said from behind her. Her back shivered and shuddered as if a thousand spiders skittered across her skin. “Oh, pardon. Nicola. Either way, a beautiful name.”
Nicola rolled her eyes. His way of speaking wasn’t just for his butler gig with the Smooth family. Every time she’d seen him since the Smooth showdown, he’d had the same mannerisms, inflection, and cadence. Slimy bastard. No doubt, the ass was a double agent. “Hello, David.”
“Oh, you sound so cold. We’re only here because you don’t trust me, and the powers that be want us to play nice. I’m willing if you are.” He looked at a paper in his hand. “Sarah Beth, is it? Lovely.”
She eyed his plaid sports coat and D & G pleated trousers. Yeah, he looked the part of Mister Pennington. His handler did good work. Together, they’d look the part, even if sleazy and slight of build wasn’t what did it for her.
Cash did it for her. Her mind flashed back to him. Tan muscles flexed and rippled when he moved. Blond hair, the occasional blond scruff, and soul-piercing, sapphire eyes haunted her memory. Her stomach slung sideways, thinking about his chiseled jaw and full lips. How he trailed kisses down her stomach and—
“Nicola, eyes are on us. Or Sarah Beth, rather. So many names, you’d think I’d be used to it in this job. I believe the Captain is ready and waiting.”
Buzz kill. “Dav—”
“Michael. Michael Pennington.”
“Whoever you are, the Captain won’t think anything of a married couple bickering. You’ve been put on notice. We’re bickering, and I’m not talking to you right now.”
David flashed a smile. The bile in her stomach sloshed.
