Leather, Lace and Rock-N-Roll Read online

  She caught Hawke’s frown out of the corner of her eye. “Are you nervous?”

  Rachel bit her lip. Terrified. “Not really. Airplanes have the lowest death rate per one hundred million miles of travel.”

  Hawke glanced at Max. “Did you know that?”

  Max nodded. “I also know that if this plane does crash, we don’t have anything to worry about until we get ready to land.” He grinned at Rachel. “Forty five percent of crashes happen on landing.”

  Rachel couldn’t stop the smile that split her lips. The delectable Max was a closet-case nerd.

  Hawke shifted in his seat. “I vote we talk about something other than plane crashes.”

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Rachel mumbled.

  “Don’t be.” Hawke dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “I spend a lot of time in the air.”

  Max pushed himself out of his chair. “No need to mention what you do up here.”

  Hawke’s eyes widened and Rachel stifled a giggle. The warm feeling of camaraderie between the two men took the place of fright for a few brief seconds. And then the plane’s engine roared to life. Rachel grasped the armrest until her knuckles turned white.

  Max nodded toward the nose of the plane. “I’ll be up front.”

  Hawke turned in his seat to face her. “Rachel, have you flown before?”

  She gave him a weak smile, one she hoped would disguise her terror. “Once or twice,” she managed to say. “I don’t get out much.”

  “How about a drink?”

  She gave him her best yeah, right look. Didn’t he remember how well she held her liquor? “No, thank you. I’ll be fine, really. I brought a magazine to distract me.”

  Rachel leaned forward to pull her Architectural Digest out of her bag just as the plane lurched. The breath left her lungs in a whoosh as the seatbelt gave her stomach a nice sucker punch.

  “On second thought,” she said as she braced herself back against the seat and squeezed her eyes closed, “I’ll just sit here and enjoy the ride.”

  “Rachel.”

  She groaned and rolled her head toward the sound of Hawke’s husky voice. She forced her eyes open. “I’m being ridiculous.”

  Heat warmed her as he placed her hand in his and braided their fingers. “I promise, we’ll be fine.”

  She gave his hand a slight squeeze to convince him she wasn’t afraid. “Of course we will. Mechanical failure accounts for most air accidents and I’m sure you checked out the plane, right?”

  “Um, no.”

  Rachel’s eyes rounded until her vision blurred. The man obviously spent thousands of dollars on an eye-catching machine and didn’t check the mechanical systems? Her mouth fell open to speak but nothing came out.

  “Max did,” Hawke assured her, “and he’s sitting in the cockpit with the pilot.”

  Rachel released a slow breath and attempted to compose herself. “Max can fly this beast?”

  Hawke’s throaty chuckle soothed her knotted nerves and she began to feel tension leak from her muscles. “I haven’t found anything Max can’t do.”

  Attempting to distract herself from the fact the plane was now creeping down the runway, Rachel glanced around the cabin. “Did you design this yourself?”

  Hawke twisted his lips. “No, I leave design to people like you.”

  “It’s very tastefully done.”

  “Glad you approve. How long have you been an architect?”

  Rachel paused for a brief moment, partly to curb her panic as the plane left the ground, but mostly to consider her response. “Ten years.”

  “You’ve been in Diablo that long?”

  She shook her head. “No. I moved here from New York.”

  “Must’ve been quite a change,” he said. “Why did you leave New York?”

  Suddenly his questions hit a little too close for comfort. “Change of scenery. What about you? Why Diablo?”

  “You.”

  The plane gave a slight bounce. “Me?” she squeaked.

  Hawke nodded. “The first time I laid eyes on you, I knew Diablo was the place for me.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “Sounds like there’s a song in there somewhere.”

  Hawke grinned and her stomach flip-flopped. “Diablo seems like a nice place. I like the location, away from the spotlight, yet close enough if I need a fix.”

  Rachel gave a slow nod. Away from the spotlight. She so understood. The only difference – she wouldn’t need a fix. “What do you usually do during these flights?”

  Hawke gestured with his head behind them. “There’s a king size bed in the back.”

  Rachel’s pulse jumped. Once again, she failed to think before she spoke. Yet, heat flooded her thighs and she wondered just how firm the mattress was on that bed. In the back of the plane. Away from everyone else. She lowered her gaze to her hands just in case he could read something in her eyes.

  Her skin tingled when he lifted her chin with one finger and caressed her eyes with his own. “I sleep, Rachel.”

  She sat hypnotized by his admission, not sure how to respond.

  “Would you like to see it?”

  “I’m not sure there’s time,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

  Hawke’s brow furrowed for a split second and then his eyebrows rose with realization. Her cheeks warmed when his lip curled in a smirk. “I only meant I think you’ll appreciate the design.”

  Rachel fought the urge to bang her head against the seat as Hawke unsnapped her seatbelt. Deciding silence would be the best option, she stood from her seat and followed him to the rear of the plane.

  Hawke opened a door and waved her inside. “Well?”

  Rachel took a moment to glance around the room. The cabinets and closet were ornately carved from oak and the carpet actually massaged each footstep but it was the king sized bed in the center that drew her attention. Although the headboard, footboard, and all four posts were equally beautifully carved from oak and the top was adorned in a black and white checkered comforter, it was the shiny black sheet peeking from beneath the blanket that stroked her curiosity. Most likely silk. The kind that would feel cool and crisp against a heated body and wrinkle easily with movement.

  “Rachel?”

  “Hmm?” Her gaze scanned the length of the bed and back again.

  “Do you like it?”

  Rachel shook herself free from thoughts of tangled bodies and wrinkled sheets. “Oh, yes, it’s beautiful, Hawke.”

  She traced her fingers over the ridges in the closest bed post. “I’m fairly sure this is hand-carved.”

  Hawke braced one hip against the armoire. “You really know your stuff.”

  Rachel gave a weak smile. He wouldn’t be quite so impressed if he knew that fine craftsmanship wasn’t exactly what she’d been thinking about up to this point.

  The door squeaked and Max poked his head around. “Sorry to interrupt, but we’re ready to land.”

  Rachel tilted her head to one side. “How did you know we were back here, Max?”

  Max nodded at Hawke. “You want to take this one, Hawke?”

  Rachel felt the blood drain from her face and resisted the urge to smack her hand against her forehead.

  Hawke took her elbow and guided her back into the cabin. “He just assumed, Rachel. Not too many places to go on an airplane.”

  Rachel heard Max’s muffled laughter as he headed back to the cockpit.

  Within the next hour, Max pulled the rented Suburban to the curb and then turned to Hawke. “Francine knows you’re coming this time, right?”

  Hawke nodded.

  Rachel’s brow wrinkled. Francine? A publicist? She glanced out the smoked windows. Right outside the car, a three-story Brownstone stood proud in the middle of what appeared to be an exclusive housing addition. A well-manicured, landscaped lawn surrounded the house, complete with a white picket fence around the entire area. Where were the cameras? The screaming women? And what kind of public appea
rance could he possibly make here? Before she could question him, Hawke slid out of his seat and Max pushed the door closed. Her door opened a few seconds later and Hawke extended a hand. Still puzzled, she accepted and left the car.

  After they climbed a set of fairly steep steps, Hawke opened the large wooden door and nudged her inside. Within milliseconds, the silence was broken. Only, not by adoring female fans. Instead, a blood-curdling scream pierced her eardrums.

  ***

  Steele watched his target swing her silver Lexus SC 430 into an empty parking space in front of the coffee shop then fling open the car door and step out, chattering like a magpie into her cell phone the whole time. He pried his fingers from the steering wheel and flexed his knuckles. Who the hell gave this woman a driver’s license?

  His pulse pounded as her heels pierced the sidewalk. Steele swallowed hard. Damn, she worked those shoes like a true professional.

  He waited to leave his truck until she entered the sidewalk café. Once inside, he wanted to throttle Captain Sterling. The place was jam packed with serious early morning coffee drinkers. Tall ones. She was tiny. His skills would be sorely tested.

  He eased into a corner in the back of the room and attempted to blend, keeping a careful eye trained on his mark. She stepped to the counter, tossed her curls over her shoulder, and more or less seduced the guy behind the counter when she batted those long eyelashes and gave him a sexy smile. Within seconds, she had a cup in her hand, topped with a mountain of whipped cream. Steele watched in awe as her tiny pink tongue darted from her mouth to pull the creamy substance inside. He exhaled hard. Someone please give her a spoon.

  He took half a second to check his location and pull himself together.

  He glanced back at the counter.

  She was gone.

  Blood pounded in his temples. Adrenaline raced through his veins. He took a quick analysis of the perimeter. He knew for a fact she hadn’t left the premises; she would’ve had to walk passed him to do it. Besides, the crowd was elbow to elbow, an exit that quick would’ve required her to crawl. No man in his right mind would’ve missed her delectable little ass on all fours.

  The windows were in the front and the only way out one of them was through them.

  Steele pushed himself off the wall and headed toward an opening in the back of the room. The head, of course. Momentary relief seeped through him until he stepped out of the noise and into a secluded hallway.

  “Hello, handsome.”

  He managed to keep from pummeling her by balling his fists.

  “Looking for me?” Her very intimidating man-eating smile told him he’d found trouble. With a bold, capital T.

  “What makes you think that?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine. We’ll play your way. I’ve had you in my rearview mirror since you pulled away from the stoplight at Second and Elm an hour ago. I’m actually impressed you managed to keep up.”

  Steele forced himself not to blast her for almost killing both of them several times during the last hour. Instead, he crossed his fingers and lied through his teeth.

  “Busted.” He gave her what he knew to be his best ladykiller smile. Maybe it would knock hers for a loop. “That was my half-assed attempt to meet you.”

  She narrowed those deep blue, Siamese cat-like eyes. “Really. So, I’m supposed to believe this is a feeble attempt to pick me up?”

  He gave a half laugh. “Believe it or not, yes.”

  “Do you have a name?”

  “Brett.”

  She stuck out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Brett. I’m Cameron.”

  “I know.”

  “How?”

  He tapped the cup she held. “It’s written in red.”

  She gave him another smile, one just as sly as the first. “Well, I’m so sorry, Brett, but I happen to be involved.”

  He raised an eyebrow. Pretty smart chick. “Maybe he should think twice about leaving you alone.”

  “He doesn’t mind. I carry pepper spray in my purse. Besides, he’s a bodyguard and as big and bad as the Terminator, with an attitude to match.”

  “Too bad. In that case I won’t waste any more of your time.”

  “See ya,” she sang.

  Steele focused on nothing other than walking a straight path out the door and didn’t allow himself to concentrate on anything else until he was seated behind the tinted windows of his truck. Irritated and hard as a rock. I am so screwed.

  He punched Shadow’s number into his cell phone. “You almost done?”

  “Leaving now. Where are you?”

  “Outside Lombardo’s Cuppa Joe.”

  “You don’t drink that stuff.”

  “She does.”

  “Then why are you outside?”

  “I think we’re in big trouble?”

  “We? Explain.”

  “I’ve been made.”

  “Hell, Steele! How?”

  “I have no idea. One minute I was watching her and the next she had me cornered.”

  “This is classic. Guess you know what happens next.”

  “Nothing.”

  “When Sterling and Hawke hear about this—”

  “They won’t.”

  Shadow gave a hearty laugh. “Oh, hell no. I can’t keep this to myself.”

  “You will or I’ll tell them about your new hobby.”

  “Damn, Steele. You wouldn’t even know if Claire hadn’t told you.”

  For once in his life Steele truly appreciated his mischievous twin sister. “Doesn’t matter. You keep my secret, I’ll keep yours.”

  “Agreed.”

  “I managed to convince her I was trying to pick her up.”

  “She buy it?”

  “I think so. But, get this. She said she’s involved with someone and I would swear on my left nut she described Sterling.”

  “This gets better and better.”

  “Did you get the tube?”

  “Yeah. The decoy is on its way back to Diego.”

  “I’ll meet you back at the hotel. You just remember what we agreed.”

  “Affirmative.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Die, fool!”

  Rachel glanced at Hawke, sure someone should call the police. Hawke just shook his head and led her down a hallway to a large room. Inside, perched in front of a big screen television, were two dark-haired boys, both attacking video game controllers like they truly tried to kill them. Rachel released the breath she’d taken a good few seconds ago.

  Hawke rushed into the room and sprawled out on the floor. “Batman Arkham Asylum! Sweet!”

  Both boys dropped their controllers and tackled Hawke.

  “Hawke, man, you didn’t tell us you were coming.” The larger of the two boys gave Hawke’s right biceps a punch.

  “I told Francie,” Hawke mumbled from beneath the pile.

  The smaller boy scrubbed his knuckles across the top of Hawke’s head. “She didn’t tell us.”

  Still in shock at the turn of events, Rachel glanced at Max. He shrugged and walked to the heap of bodies squirming on the floor.

  “Cool it, killers.” Max scooped the boys off Hawke and tucked each one under a bronzed bicep. “Did you notice Hawke brought a girl this time?”

  The room fell silent and four curious eyes hit her head-on. With shock still buzzing her brain, Rachel smiled.

  Hawke stood and positioned himself beside her. “Guys, this is Ms. Newberry.”

  Max set each boy on the floor and then nudged the tallest, who stepped forward and offered his hand. “Nice to meet you ma’am. I am Antonio.”

  Rachel gave his hand a squeeze. “Nice to meet you too, Antonio. Please call me Rachel.”

  The smaller boy, a carbon copy of the first, thrust his hand at Rachel. “I’m Romeo.” He turned to Hawke. “Ella es un bebe’ caliente!”

  Rachel raised both eyebrows. One hot babe?

  Hawke smirked. “She speaks Spanish, Romeo.”

  A wave of red climbed Romeo
’s face and tinted the tips of his ears.

  “Thank you, Romeo,” Rachel said softly, “I’m flattered you find me attractive.” She leaned down closer to his height. “You’re no tan mal ousted mismo.”

  A big cheesy grin lit Romeo’s face and he glanced back at Hawke. “Take that, Hawke, she says I’m not bad myself.”

  Hawke chuckled. “Stay away from my woman.” He gave Romeo a playful punch to his left shoulder. “Can you guys entertain Max? Rachel and I need to talk to Francie.”

  A mischievous smile crossed Antonio’s face as he glanced at Max. “We got Call of Duty yesterday. You in?”

  Max accepted his offer with a tone of challenge. “That’s a definite affirmative, soldier.”

  Hawke took Rachel’s hand and led her from the recreation room and down yet another hallway. Her brain was still numb from shock. Where were the cameras? The reporters?

  “Hawke.” She tugged him to a stop. “What exactly are we doing here?”

  “Checking on my kids.”

  Rachel opened her mouth and then snapped it closed. Of course he’d fathered children.

  Hawke resumed their path down the hall until they met a young, extremely attractive brunette walking toward them, a laundry basket balanced on one hip. The second she saw Hawke, the basket hit the floor and she lunged herself into his arms.

  Rachel stood silent. Not one muscle dared move. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears and her blood threatened to scald her insides. Hawke brought her to meet the mother of his children?

  Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose. Maybe she should’ve worked the marriage question into her interview. Reality came back to slap her in the head. What interview? She’d agreed to accompany Hawke without asking one single question. Her newly-adopted don’t ask, just do policy screamed in hysterical laughter.

  After a quick embrace, the woman stepped back from Hawke and stuck out her hand. “Oh God, I’m sorry,” she said, tucking a piece of hair behind one ear. “I’m Francie, the kids’ mother. You must be Rachel.”

  Hawke told Francie about her? Rachel swallowed hard and made a quick decision. She’d be diplomatic but she needed specifics about this whole arrangement. Since her voice had obviously decided to play hide-and-seek, she simply nodded.