Tropical Safeguard (Men Of The Secret Service) (8 page)

“Lay on your front and make yourself
comfortable,” she instructed over her shoulder. She was careful to hide her
growing nervousness; hopeful the slight shake in her voice hadn’t betrayed her.

                                   
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Cole
stretched out facing down, his body unable to relax if his life depended on it.
He was never one to relax anyway; it just wasn’t in his nature. Restless and
apprehensive, the whole idea of a massage frazzled him, and having one
performed by Katrina made his blood boil with nerves. It was a hyper-awareness
bordering on nausea. Being in close proximity to her, and having her touch him
no less, was beyond intense, despite the beauty of the surroundings. Cole
didn’t trust his body not to respond appropriately to the situation and the
thought made him even more nervous.

“So, have you been giving people massages
often?” Cole winced at the question. It sounded contrived and silly; like some
sort of cheesy pick-up line.

Katrina giggled. “Um, no. I only give
Mrs. Winters massages, but I have given Gloria a few too since I arrived here.
She works her butt off so I offer to give her the odd massage because she
deserves them. Mr. Winters has never requested one, and neither have Jacque or
Damien. Mrs. Winters was actually the first person I ever gave a massage to
aside from my fellow students where I took the course. I’ve taken courses on
all sorts of therapeutic treatments in my spare time. After graduating, I found
myself yearning to be at the Pilates studio after a hard days work at the
office.”

“Where did you work?” Cole asked, a
little surprised.

He noticed Katrina hesitate. “Um, Kilroy
Financial.”

“Wow, as in Cameron Kilroy?”

“Yes, the very same.”

“Cameron Kilroy is notorious for his
ruthless business merges. My brother Mackenzie is in the financial industry and
Cameron Kilroy is infamous. That must have been a stressful place to work. Very
cutthroat.”

“Yes, extremely stressful. You have no
idea. As soon as I would arrive at the Pilates studio I would strip off my
business suit in a hurry and feel my entire body relax as I slipped on my
stretchy clothes. It was like putting on a new persona, the true me. I felt
like a fraud all day long until my late evening date with the reformer.”

“The reformer, what’s that?”

“A special machine for doing intensive
Pilates.”

“Oh,” Cole muttered. He could hear
Katrina rubbing her hands together to warm them up. She walked over to the
massage table and leaned against it, brushing her tummy against his arm in the
process, the innocent act sending sparks to his groin. An instant later, he
felt both of her soft hands come to rest on the middle of his back and he
flinched. She began to move them up and down the tense muscles and Cole felt a
jolt of excitement in every cell.

“Easy, Agent Nielsen, just breathe and
relax.”

She was asking the impossible. “I don’t
know if this is such a good idea. I mean, what if Agent Kensing sees me? I’ll
never hear the end of it.” Cole twisted to look up at her. “Would I offend you
if I change my mind?”

“But you’re off duty at the moment. This
isn’t your shift, so you’re free to do what you want, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, but…”

She stopped moving her hands but kept
them resting on his back to which he was acutely aware. He caught her smile a
little, as if she hid a secret. “What is it?” he asked, seeing the way her eyes
held something back.

“Your colleague has already had a massage
with me.”

“What?” Cole pushed himself up on an
elbow and stared her down in amazement. “You mean…”

“Yes, he already came asking for one. I
obliged. But I can assure you, Agent Nielsen, he got the basic massage without
the bells and whistles.”

Cole’s mouth fell open. “Well, son of a
gun, that sneaky lone wolf.” As Katrina turned and reapplied more oil to her
hands, he sensed she suppressed her laughter. He thought for a moment, utterly
confused. “And what might the ‘bells and whistles’ be exactly?” He was almost
too afraid to ask, his mind unavoidably delving into inappropriate thoughts. He
respected Katrina immensely already and knew she was professional, but there
was something so intimate about getting a massage from someone as beautiful as
she was. It was a delicate predicament and Cole was at once embarrassed that
he’d put himself in this situation.

“Well, the bells and whistles include
what I have in those bowls and bottles over there. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, I trust you,” Cole said, locking
onto her jade green eyes. She smiled gently, cautiously, and it instantly put
him at ease. He sensed she was as nervous as he was and the thought was
reassuring.

“Okay, put your head down and relax and
let me work my magic. Your muscles will thank me later.”

Cole did as instructed. If Agent Prickly
could have a massage, he could too. No regrets.

After
twenty glorious minutes of deep massage, Katrina stepped away from the table
and came back with a handful of invigorating salt for a body scrub. She rubbed
his back in a circular motion to stimulate blood flow and release the toxins.
Cole felt the tension melt away as his eyelids closed in his comfort. He had
decided to let it all go, his worries about the future, his concerns over his
father’s progressing Parkinson’s, everything. He was completely in the moment
here in Bermuda with Katrina. There was nothing else, just this.

Katrina took a warm towel and eased off
the salt rub. She then filled her hand with oil from one of the bottles that
had been warming in the afternoon sun. As her hands found his back again, Cole
could smell the soothing scents of rose and cedar. The smell instantly reminded
him of Katrina, for he had caught this unmistakable scent on her yesterday. Now
he knew why. It was like an intense, heightened reminder of her. He moaned
slightly despite himself as she rubbed the muscles in his lower back deeper.

“This is so wonderful,” he lazily
whispered, letting go of his inhibitions.

Katrina smiled as she went even deeper
into the muscle. She had him now. He was under her spell.

Chapter
Six

In the calm, descending twilight of the
evening, Gloria closed the grand oak door behind her and inspected the white
envelope in her hand with curiosity. There was no return address, no stamp,
nothing. It was odd.

She walked across the large front foyer,
past the open-concept living room to her right, and past the formal sitting
room to her left. Although the décor was relaxed and tropical, the mansion
still held the expected formalities of grandeur. Turning, she walked down a
short hall until she reached an opulent mahogany door. Knocking lightly, she
waited until she heard a muffled reply to enter.

“Good evening, Secretary Mitchell. An
envelope arrived for you.”

“Oh, thank you, Gloria.” James Mitchell
took the sparse looking envelope and flipped it over. His face held a puzzled
expression. “How do you know it’s for me?”

“Well, I just assumed, Sir.”

“Okay. Let’s find out.”

He tore at the edge, ripping it up the
side. He pulled a single piece of paper out with his fingertips. Gloria watched
as his expression turned from one of puzzlement to one of overt fright.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Gloria, did you see who delivered this?”

“No, it was sticking out of the mailbox.
Why?”

“Please, will you excuse me,” Secretary
Mitchell looked at her in a way that signified it was her cue to leave.

“Yes, Sir.” Gloria shut the door behind
her and quickly walked down the hallway, heading straight for the kitchen. She
found Jacque preparing a late snack for the boys who were hunkered down in the
entertainment room for a movie. He looked up at her as she entered. “Perhaps a
little taste?” He held up a spoon of butterscotch pudding with a crumbled
toffee topping. “The ultimate combination of creamy and crunchy. I’ll also make
some spicy popcorn for the little men. They are not as picky as I thought.”
Jacque held the spoon in mid-air, but Gloria stood speechless. “Gloria, snap
into it!”

“Huh? Oh. You mean ‘snap out of it’,
Jacque,” she corrected as she became aware of what he was doing. She took a
bite. “Mmm. A winner.”

“What is bothering you then? You look
very far away,” Jacque asked while spreading the crumbled toffee over the tops
of each pudding.

“A letter came for the Secretary. It
seemed really odd and I think it may have been something inappropriate.”

Looking up from his task, Jacque raised
his eyebrows dramatically. “Oh? Do tell.”

“It was in the mailbox, though it wasn’t
there this morning when I brought in the mail. I just happened to notice a
piece of paper hanging out when I was sweeping the front walkway.”

“Hmm, we have a mystery. I wonder if we
will discover the ending.”

                                   
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Meanwhile,
Secretary Mitchell picked up the phone and called the Deputy Secretary’s room.
He asked him to come down to the study to discuss the letter as soon as
possible. He then called Agent Nielsen’s cell.

“Agent Nielsen, I think we have a
problem. Do you and your partner mind joining us in the study please.”

“Certainly sir, right away.”

Cole had been patrolling the grounds and
avoiding Agent Kensing until he received the call. While walking, he’d often
looked toward Katrina’s room and wondered what she was doing right now. Her
light was on and since it was too early to turn in, he assumed she was reading.
Or, perhaps she was doing some intricate Pilates pose on the floor of her room,
practicing her technique. The image of her flexing and stretching her taut body
flashed across his mind and he felt a flush of heat rise within. He wouldn’t
mind assisting her with other interesting positions. There was no denying his
attraction. Whether it was reciprocated or not was another story. Although he
suspected she was flirting this morning after Noah’s incident, he really
couldn’t read her at all and his head had been cloudy since Katrina took her
burning hands away from his skin. The massage had ended, but the memory of her
touch remained searing him down to his bones. He ached for her touch again,
wondering if it would be inappropriate to request a massage daily so he could
have contact, any contact with her. He’d take it in any form he could get
it.
 
Still, even with the
mysterious aura that surrounded Katrina, there was something there that Cole
recognized; an apprehension he’d seen on occasion when dealing with someone
who’d experienced abuse in their past. She was cautious, leery of men, and here
to get away from something. That much was obvious.

Cole clicked his earphone, “Agent
Kensing, do you read?”

“Yes, I copy.”

“There’s a problem. Secretary Mitchell
wants us in his study.”

“I’m on my way.”

Cole walked around the back lawn in the
direction of the mansion’s side door – his regular throughway. In doing
so, he passed by Katrina’s balcony again and saw a faint silhouette of her
image standing near the curtain. It moved slightly and then her silhouette
receded. Had she been watching him? He shrugged it off and continued through
the pergola and onto the flagstone patio. Agent Kensing met him there and they
walked to the study together.

“Enjoy your walk?” Cole asked. Agent
Kensing had been patrolling the front of the property just for something to do
even though his shift hadn’t officially started.

“Yes, my walk was fine, nothing special.
Anything to report from the back lawns?”

“No,” Cole answered, keeping his
civilities low-key as they traveled down the long hallway. Cole could hear the
loud action sequences of the young adult flick coming from the entertainment
room as they passed. Looking in, he saw all three boys with their faces glued
to the oversized screen, their mouths gaping in trance-like awe.

“Totally distracted,” Cole pointed out,
expecting a chuckle from Agent Kensing.