Sadly, humanity has proven to be almost uniformly disappointing. With the exception of Lizzy and Sabrina, I have yet to form a serious bond with anyone who didn’t lie to me, deceive me, or betray my trust.
All three of which you’re plotting to do to poor Nick.
I ignore the weak, whiny inner voice. I’ll only betray Nick’s trust if he proves too selfish to put the safety of our families ahead of playing James Bond.
And he’s hardly an innocent lamb.
He’s a very clever man, a fact I would be wise to remember if I do have cause to arrange a leak. I’ll have to be careful to keep Nick from suspecting that I’m the source.
All the more reason to build on the rapport we’re developing, to keep things cordial and friendly.
But not…too friendly.
From now on, my ego remains firmly in check. I can’t afford to make dumb mistakes because some foolish part of me wants Nick to notice me in that way. It doesn’t matter if he thinks I’m attractive, only that he thinks I’m on his side. So firmly on his side that he would never question my loyalty.
It might not be easy—going from enemies to bosom buddies in a little over a week—but Nick is obviously eager to let bygones be bygones.
After we touch down and taxi to a stop near the airfield gate, I study him while we gather our bags from the overhead bin. He looks calm and at ease, refreshed by the ten-hour flight rather than depleted.
And when he turns to me, his first instinct is to smile.
“Ready to roll?” he asks. “Stefano told me to text when I landed and he’d send his boys with a car, but we can call a cab if you’d rather.”
“Whatever you think is best.”
He makes a considering sound, pressing the buttons to deploy the stairs down to the tarmac. “I don’t think Stefano will notice one way or another, and Tony and Thom can be…a lot.”
I frown. “In what way?”
“In the obnoxious, wanting to stop at the bar before check-in, farting contest enthusiast, mistakenly thinking enough cologne will compensate for skipping deodorant kind of way.” He reaches for the heavy latch on the door. “They’re the stinky fraternity brothers I never had nor wanted.”
“Charming.” I laugh. “In that case, I say we get a taxi and pretend you forgot about the car offer.”
Nick laughs with me, squinting as he opens the hatch, and bright afternoon sunlight streams in, followed by a humid island breeze that smells of flowers, sea salt, and airplane fuel.
“Sounds good.” He lifts a hand, shielding his eyes from the glare. “Just let me…”
He trails off, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on the handle of his suitcase. It’s a tiny tell, but I’m instantly on alert, ready to respond to whatever’s put him on guard.
I am not, however, prepared for the way he turns to me, dragging me against him with a possessive tug of his arm or the way he bends low to claim my mouth with his.
His tongue sweeps between my lips, and his taste—smoky tea and sweetness from the scones we shared for an end-of-flight snack—fills my mouth, making my knees go weak as he deepens the kiss. They literally go weak, shuddering under me as I lean into him, clinging to his shirt with both hands. I have no idea why this is happening, but I trust he has a reason for kissing me senseless.
I trust him, I realize.
I really do…
It’s surprising and a little disturbing, but not too disturbing. It’s impossible to be truly disturbed while kissing this man.
It’s impossible to feel anything but fizzy and dizzy and secretly hoping for as many excuses to make out with him as I can get. Because Nick’s lips? Well, I’m not sure I’ll ever get enough.
I’m in trouble.
Deep, deep trouble.
Chapter Nine
Nickolas
I slide my hand deeper into Zan’s silky hair and make a fist, holding her captive as I deepen the kiss, my tongue dancing with hers.
She tastes like strawberry jam and cream, but it’s the way she abandons herself to the moment that’s strikingly sweet. This woman has one of the sharpest tongues I’ve ever encountered, but when she kisses me…
When she’s this close, her body soft against mine and her fingers clinging to my shirt as if she needs a lifeline to remain standing, she’s nothing but delicious.
I kiss her longer than I should, distracted by how good, how right it feels to have her in my arms. But eventually, I remember the reason I pulled her against me in the first place and let my lips slide across her jaw to her ear. “Tony and Thom are by the fence,” I whisper. “By the black Jeep. They’ve already spotted us.”
“Got it,” she whispers back, her breath warm on my neck.
“You ready?” I smooth a hand down her side to her hip, giving the yummy curve a squeeze. “If not, I can tell them we need to make a stop in town before we join them at the resort.”
Her arms wrap around my waist. She tips her head back, gazing up at me with an adoring expression. “I’m ready when you are.”
“That’s my Zanda Panda,” I say, grinning down at her.
“Aw, thanks, Dimples.”
I huff out a soft laugh. “You can’t call me that.”
“Why?” She bats her lashes. “It’s the perfect pet name.”
“It’s awful.”
“Not as bad as Zanda Panda. Or Zanny Wanny.”
“Nonsense, those are adorable pet names. Dimples makes me sound like I’m a baby’s bottom,” I say, relaxing into the flirting.
Tony and Thom already here, waiting for my plane to land, is unexpected. But I’m good at rolling with the punches, and Zan clearly is, too.
Still, I confess I’m more nervous than I usually would be.
I’ve never been on a mission with someone I care about the way I care about Zan. I meant what I said on the plane—she’s family to me now, and there’s more at risk here in Bali than on any other mission I’ve been a part of.
It makes caution seem prudent. I’m tempted to turn down the surprise ride, to insist Zan and I have to head into town for razors or shaving cream or some other nonsense, and secure ourselves another half hour of privacy so our heads are fully in the game.
But that’s not the Good Time Nicky these men know. It would be out of character and could arouse suspicion the same way it did when I refused to acknowledge Zan’s glorious cleavage.
Speaking of glorious cleavage…
I glance down, humming beneath my breath as I soak in the sight of her in this dress. Her breasts are pushed up above the deep V neckline, so plump and round and bitable it’s all I can do not to drag her up my body for a nibble.
“I should call you Tits Galore,” I murmur.
“Do it, and I’ll have to slap you,” she says pleasantly, still batting her lashes. “Several times. Right on your dimples, Dimples.”
I chuckle. “All right. We’ll put a pin in pet names for now. Wait until we’ve had time to thoroughly vet all the possibilities.” I brush my thumb across her bottom lip—that soft, slightly puffy bottom lip I can’t wait to kiss again. I’m concerned about her safety and intend to remain a consummate professional when we’re in private, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to excuses to make out with her in public. “Go time?”