She pulled her head back and glared. “It’s not funny. I actually care about you.”
His laughter slowed, yet his eyes glinted with humor. “You care?”
“Yes. I care about you. A lot.”
He pulled her closer and kissed her again. “I care about you a lot, too. And don’t worry about me, I failed at food service and was reassigned. Let’s just say I’m more capable of watching your back than being a line cook.”
The door slammed open, and Simon rushed inside the suite. He was speaking on his cell phone and gave only a cursory glance to Alex and Henry. “I’ll be there by lunch. Bye.”
He yanked off his coat and jogged toward his bedroom. The phone went back to his ear, and he disappeared.
Henry and Alex remained huddled together on the couch. She didn’t want to leave his side, so she tucked her legs up and snuggled as close to him as possible without sitting on his lap.
Ten minutes later, Simon emerged from his room with his suitcase. He wore jeans and a white cable-knit sweater, whistling as he approached. “I have to go see Nicola. Henry, you can take the car home. I’m transporting your purchase with me for safekeeping and to keep your hands clean. I hate to strip you of your riches, Belinda, but the Cinderella jewels must be returned.”
Simon helped to remove the necklace. She handed over the earrings and thanked Simon for the loan. He disappeared out the door as quickly as he’d arrived.
“There go the glass slippers.”
Henry squeezed Alex’s shoulder. “Cinderella never needed the glass slippers, Sunshine. They were just an extravagant prop on an otherwise perfect woman.”
Chapter Sixteen
Simon flew from Edinburgh to Gatwick and stopped at SIS headquarters in Vauxhall to drop off the painting. The government would use it to fund the export of illegal weapons to groups allied with Britain, and eventually funnel it through several legitimate dealers to clear title so it could be transferred back to the rightful owner.
Around lunchtime, he went to visit Nicola at her flat in Chelsea. He’d rather be drinking a pint at the Rusty Dog Pub near Henry’s house, but she was expecting him. He strolled down the third-floor hallway and waved to an older couple who lived in the flat next to hers. Mr. and Mrs. Dempsey out for their afternoon stroll.
Leaning on Nicola’s doorframe, he rapped three times. She opened the door, her long brunette hair cascading over one shoulder. He scanned her top with the V-neck cut low enough for her silicone breasts to escape if they felt so inclined. Jeans tight enough to be skin accentuated legs that went on forever. She must dress like that to drive him crazy.
She stepped forward and placed a hand on his hip. “Hey, gorgeous.”
“Hey.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him so tight, he instantly became aroused. Her body fit Simon’s perfectly. He dipped his head to taste her decadent lips. She opened her mouth slightly. The tease. He took everything she offered and then drove his tongue inside her mouth for more. She moaned and allowed him to continue to possess her. Her hands brushed over his head. Those long, slender fingers then moved down his back, caressing every vertebra. The two lovers moaned erotic sounds, making sure their neighbors could hear the foreplay.
He grasped her ass with both hands and lifted her off the ground. Her legs wrapped around him, shooting Simon’s core temperature up thirty degrees. Their mouths never parted as he carried her into her foyer. He kicked the door closed and loosened his grip so she could slide down his body back to earth. Once her feet hit the ground, they separated.
“If you’re going to shove your tongue down my throat, you need to brush your teeth. And use mouthwash.” Nicola, breathing hard, straightened her clothes. The shirt had lifted up and her tight abs peeked out over her painted-on denim.
“If you’re going to be a bitch, get another partner.” He headed to the kitchen to grab a soda and cool down.
“Trust me, I’ve tried. No one else in the agency wants you.” She followed him.
He grinned and took out two Cokes, handing one to her. “I guess you’re stuck then.”
“Guess so.”
They moved from the kitchen into one of the back bedrooms. Two desks stood side by side covered with files, a large computer, and two laptops. Surrounded by beige carpet, white walls, and wooden desks, the only color in the room came from small multicolored pins placed on a large map of the world. An old pizza box and several discarded coffee cups from Starbucks decorated the floor.
Nicola sat at the left desk and brought up her email screen. “I’m glad you came over. Teodor contacted us. He said he’d take the Matisse until the artifacts arrive.”
Simon scanned the message. Sure enough, an email from “paulsmith” at some weed killer website counteroffered Simon’s suggestion of a money drop.
“Where’s the Matisse now?” He couldn’t afford to lose the painting.
“The back closet in the vault.”
“Fine. Set it up. Tell him that in addition to the three crates of Glocks, I want fifty Colt Pythons.”
“Ambitious.”
“Always.”
The art funded international arms deals he and Nicola organized. Simon acted as a middleman bringing buyers and sellers together. None of the parties, except his partner Nicola, knew of Simon’s affiliation with MI6.
Nicola pushed her hair behind her shoulders, exposing her long neck. Man, she turned him on. If she wasn’t such a stickler for following rules and regulations, Simon would have tried to change their relationship from business to personal a long time ago. He’d prefer a diversion with a kindred spirit to a meaningless one-night stand with a waitress he’d never see again.