Twice the Temptation

She knew exactly where she was. She’d needed only that one quick glimpse of the man in the driver’s seat to bring all the grim details flooding back.

He was ex-CIA agent Cody Marsh, the man charged with keeping her alive, a man who’d practically kidnapped her off the street in Times Square and eventually whisked her away in his car.

Not that she’d objected to being whisked. She’d gone along with him quite willingly after someone had taken a shot at her.

Brie had no idea how long she’d slept, but she’d badly needed the brief escape from the nightmare that had become her life. Now reality was back with a vengeance. Cody Marsh was the second man who’d been assigned the task of making sure she survived long enough to testify at Dicky Ferrante’s trial in New York City.

Her first bodyguard was dead.

When he’d escorted her to the Kansas City airport yesterday, he’d taken a bullet meant for her. She’d run for her life and when she’d used the special phone she’d been given for emergencies, Federal Marshal Maxine Norville, the agent who was in charge of her case, had flown out in person to bring her safely back to the Big Apple. But Maxine suspected there was a leak in her office. So she’d put in a call to Cody Marsh. Maxine had explained that while his methods might be unorthodox, he was unparalleled at providing security.

Well, the events of the last twenty-four hours had proven that if there was one thing Brie needed, it was excellent security.

So far Cody Marsh had delivered in spades. Dodging bullets in Times Square seemed to be right up his alley. And she felt safe with him—safer than she’d felt in the six months since she’d left her place of work, a classy bar on the Upper East Side of New York, and stepped into a pile of trouble.

The Dark Horse Tavern had been her best singing gig in over a year, and her agent had just booked her into a lounge at a newly opened casino in Las Vegas. Everything had been coming up roses for Brie Sullivan.

Until she’d stepped into that alley and witnessed up-and-coming mobster, Dicky Ferrante, gun down her boss.

Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Dicky had taken a shot at her, too, before she’d high-tailed it out of there using all the skill she’d picked up as a state-wide champion in track. Then she’d played the good citizen and reported the shooting to the police.

After that, life as she’d known it had gone to hell in a handbag. She’d been put into the witness protection program, shipped off to a small town in Kansas where she’d been waiting tables for six months, biding her time until Dicky’s trial. That was going to happen on Monday. Then her goal was to get her old life back.

And Cody Marsh just might be her ticket for doing that. He’d certainly handled the situation well in Times Square. The instant a bullet had shattered the glass window behind them, he’d grabbed her and dragged her away from the scene.

There’d been screams, Maxine Norville’s among them. The marshal had been calling to them to come back. But Cody Marsh had heeded no one as he’d propelled her through a hotel lobby, out a back entrance and into the first taxi he’d found.

Now she was in a car with him. Her life was in the hands of a man she knew nothing about.

Except for one thing.

For some reason she could not fathom, she was incredibly attracted to him. Then again, her initial response to him might have been some kind of aberration induced by two close brushes with death.

That was what she was hoping for.

But there was only one way to find out.

The first step was to open her eyes. She did so slowly this time, squinting against the sunlight. It had been barely dawn when they’d left New York.

She glanced out the window rather than look directly at Cody. She wasn’t quite ready to do that yet. Brie studied the tall grass growing at the side of the road and the rocks and boulders beyond them. When they rounded a curve, she caught a glimpse of a sparkling blue sea. “I’m definitely not in Kansas anymore.”

Cody chuckled. “Definitely not. You’re in Maine.”

The sound of his voice sent a ripple of awareness along her nerve endings.

Oh-oh. There went her aberration theory. She was very tempted to look at him because he’d be smiling. And the man had a killer smile. She’d gotten one brief glimpse of it before all hell had broken loose. Instead, she focused on a gull winging its way into a clear blue sky. “Where are we going?”

“A small hotel on an isolated island off the coast. Haworth House. I know the manager, and an old colleague of mine from the CIA is engaged to one of the owners. I did him a favor a while back, and ever since then, I can visit Haworth House whenever I want. I called ahead to book the room and told them I’d be bringing my fiancée.”

Brie’s head took a little spin, but she kept her gaze on the road. “You told them I’m your fiancée?”

“It’s our cover story for the weekend. There’ll be less speculation about our sharing a room.”

“We’ll be sharing a room?” Brie could have bitten her tongue. She was beginning to sound like a parrot. And that wasn’t her style at all. Though she still didn’t glance at him, she felt the heat of his gaze.

“Until I deliver you to court in New York City on Monday and you testify against Dicky Ferrante, we’re going to be together twenty-four-seven. No one, not even Maxine Norville, knows where we’re headed. I don’t expect any problems, but I like to be prepared. So I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Brie managed to keep her gaze fixed on the road ahead, but she couldn’t do a thing to prevent the thrill that moved through her.

Get a grip, she told herself. She shouldn’t be thinking about the possible side benefits of sharing a room with Cody Marsh. Didn’t she have enough on her plate right now?

And it wasn’t like her to be so…what? So quickly taken with a man? Sure, instant chemistry, sexual attraction were things she sang about all the time. She even projected them in her songs. And she was good at it. But in her private life she’d always been cautious. It wasn’t that she didn’t like men. She did. But she kept her relationships casual, fun. Her career had always come first. And it would come first again.

Gathering her thoughts, Brie said, “I don’t have any clothes with me. I abandoned my bags at the airport in Kansas City right after that young marshal was shot.”

“After Maxine called me, I did some shopping and packed a bag for you. I think I got the sizes right. For the shoes, I stuck to sandals.”

Sandals. The man had bought sandals for her.

“Your little nap aside, I can’t imagine you’ve gotten much sleep in the last twenty-four hours. Once we reach Haworth House, you can sleep the weekend away if you’d like. You’ll be safe there.”

Brie flicked him a sideways glance. “When Marshal Norville came out to fetch me in Kansas, she told me I’d be safe with her, too. Then someone shot at us in Times Square.”

“Yeah,” Cody said. “Somebody in her office definitely has to be on Ferrante’s payroll. That’s why we’re not telling her where we’re headed. Maxine thinks the world of you, by the way. She says you’ve been a really good sport about the whole witness protection thing.”

Good sport. That was her all right. Brie Sullivan, lounge singer, murder witness and all around good sport. She could picture the words like a neon sign blinking on and off over her head.

A little flame of anger flickered to life inside of her. Brie found it a welcome respite from the numbness that had been plaguing her for the past twenty-four hours.

“You know, that’s exactly what Maxine told me six months ago when I agreed to testify against Dicky Ferrante. ‘You’re being a good citizen and a good sport about this.’”

“That’s what she’s supposed to say to you. It’s her job to get you to cooperate and testify, and she’s very good at it.”

“Oh, I’ve been cooperating.” Brie fisted her hands on her lap, but she was careful to keep her eyes on the scenery. “And where has it gotten me so far? I’ve spent the last six months waiting tables in Nowhere, Kansas, I missed an opportunity to get my big break in Las Vegas, I haven’t been able to sing anywhere except in the shower and Dicky Ferrante has tried to have me killed twice in less than two days.”

“So I’d say the witness protection program hasn’t worked out quite the way you expected?”

The sympathy in his tone had her finally glancing at him.

And her aberration theory bit the dust for good.

Just one look at his profile was enough to rekindle every single sensation she’d experienced when she’d first met him in Times Square.

Pedestrians had streamed by on both sides, but she’d only been aware of him. They might just as well have been in a bubble. She’d never been so intensely aware of a man before, and she’d absorbed each detail—the tall, lean body, the handsome face with its well-defined cheekbones and strong chin, the full, firm mouth, and the blond hair that waved over his ears and the collar of his shirt.

And the eyes. They were a dark shade of gray and so intense they seemed to look right into her.

When he’d gripped her hand and smiled at her, she’d absorbed a shock of heat and something else that bordered on recognition.