Deadly Games - Cate Noble [40]
Oh horror! She’d turned into her mother! Milli-cent Armstrong had been dead three years, yet at the first insecurity or doubt, Gena still heard her whining told-you-so voice.
“Enough!”
Time to change, beginning with no … more … nice.
Gena went to the kitchen and fixed a cup of coffee, debated whether to add a shot of Irish whisky. For courage. Then her doorbell rang.
She frowned. It was six-thirty. Kimberly next door would just be getting back from a run and was always out of coffee. Or it could be Tyrone in 3C, always out of everything.
Gena adjusted the towel she wore. Kimberly could come in; Tyrone she’d ignore.
She tiptoedto the peephole, peered out, and saw … Rocco. She drew a sharp breath. He’s here!
“I heard that. I know you’re there, Gena.” He leaned in close and stared back through the peephole. “I can smell your perfume.”
She jumped backward.
His chuckle came through the door. “Come on, princess! I brought you a surprise.”
She peeked through the peephole again but this time saw only black. He probably had his thumb over the hole. How unfair!
She debated what to do and what to say. Should she send him away or invite him in and give him the cold shoulder?
“I’m not dressed. Give me a minute,” she said.
“Not. Dressed.” Rocco’s voice sounded deeper. Huskier. “Do you mean naked?”
Could her neighbors hear this? “Not naked naked,” she hissed. “I’m wearing a towel. I just got out of the shower.”
“Oh, then you can let me in and I’ll wait while you get dressed.”
Nice girls don’t parade half naked in front of men.
That did it!
Gena slipped the chain free and jerked the door open. July’s warm, humid air wafted in. Already the day promised to be a scorcher.
Despite her resolve to be indifferent, her eyes widened at the sight of him. Rocco Taylor was the golden Sun God version of tall, dark, and handsome. His hair was thick and straight—except for a couple ends that curled when it got too long. Like now.
Wherever he’d been, he’d been out of doors. Somewhere tropical, judging by his sun-streaked hair and tan. Tough assignment, she thought jealously.
“Holy God! You look fabulous!” Rocco’s dark blue eyes gave her the once-over. Twice. “You also look pissed.”
Three weeks, no word. Pissed didn’t come close, but she didn’t want him to know it. “I’ve got to leave for work in fifteen minutes, so …”
He had both hands behind his back, hiding something.
“So hurry up and hand over your surprise!”
He wagged his brows. “Close your eyes first.”
“Tsk! Come inside, before my neighbors see us.”
“Just close your eyes, Gena.”
She let out a sigh. And the moment she closed her eyes, she sensed him move closer, felt his lips brush hers. Don’t swoon.
“I missed you, princess.” He toyed with her mouth, speaking and kissing in that maddening way of his. “And you have every right to be mad. I would have called if I could, but it was one of those things.”
“One of those things” was spy-speak for a classified mission. A job hazard common to CIA operatives.
In fact, they’d met six months ago, working “one of those things.” Gena had just graduated college and had been hired on as a Spanish linguist with the State Department, after interning with the CIA during the two summers prior. Her second week on the job, she’d been sent to Mexico to replace another linguist who’d gotten sick.
The job had involved translating taped conversations between drug couriers. It was a joint mission with the Mexican government and Rocco had wanted to make sure the translations being provided were accurate.
From the first moment she’d seen him, she’d been aware of Rocco physically and sexually. But he’d been a total pro during that job. So much so that Gena had decided he was already involved. Clearly not interested in her even though some of the other operatives had seemed eager.
But once the job ended and Rocco returned to D.C., he’d been persistent in asking her out.
Right now she moaned as he deepened the