Vows Read online

  His expertly tailored, dark suit caressed the slim lines of his tall frame, and the stark whiteness of his shirt offset the deep color in his lean, brown jaw. A Windsor-knotted silk tie in rich tones of navy and silver under a curved spread collar caught her attention as she stared at his bronzed throat. Her heels had put her within three inches of his impressive height.

  Raising her gaze, she met his, and what she saw rocked her to her core. Joshua Kirkland had lied to her. He wanted more than dinner. He wanted her in his bed!

  Tilting her chin, she managed a nervous grin. “I’ve been ready for hours.” And she had; she had been ready for years.

  The heat from Joshua’s hand swept through the fabric of her dress, searching, scorching, and searing her naked flesh beneath the black jersey material with a sensual fire. How could the mere contact of his fingertips remind her of how much she had missed a man’s touch?

  She was pleased Joshua had asked her out to dinner and pleased that she had accepted. She would share dinner with him, enjoy his company, then bid him good night.

  Chapter 4

  Joshua felt a rush of masculine pride the moment he and Vanessa stepped into the dimly lit supper club. Most male gazes were directed at her: the maître d’, waiters, busboys, and diners. Their reaction to Vanessa was similar to his. She was breathtakingly stunning. And she was his dining partner for the evening.

  He spoke quietly to the maître d’, and within seconds they were shown to their table. The location of the table was perfect. It was close enough to the raised stage, where a band played melodiously behind a man and woman singing a passionate love song to each other.

  After he made certain Vanessa was comfortably seated, he took his own seat. Enthralled by her perfect profile, Joshua watched as she listened to the vocalists singing a popular Spanish song.

  Vanessa turned back to him, a questioning look in her expressive eyes. “What are they singing about?”

  He leaned forward over the small, round table, the flickering candle in a votive glass creating light and dark shadows across his lean face. “He’s asking her for forgiveness and understanding.”

  “Forgiveness for what?”

  “A single indiscretion.”

  She arched a delicate eyebrow. “In other words, he was unfaithful?”

  Joshua nodded. Vanessa’s expression made it seem as if she had been the wronged party. “Quite unfaithful,” he confirmed.

  “Is she going to forgive him?”

  He listened for a few moments, nodding. “Yes. But only if he agrees to marry her. Otherwise it’s over between them.”

  Vanessa thought of Kenneth and his many indiscretions. “Why would she want to marry a man knowing he’s going to be unfaithful to her?”

  The moment the question left her lips she knew she had revealed too much about herself. Kenneth Richmond’s infidelity had made her overly cautious with the opposite sex. Focusing her attention on the menu on the table, she picked it up and pretended interest in the many selections listed in Spanish.

  Staring across the table at her bowed head, Joshua said quietly, “Love. Because she loves him she’s willing to forgive him.”

  Vanessa glanced up as her lips twisted in a cynical smile. “There isn’t that much love in the world.”

  He recalled the entry in her file about her liaison with Kenneth Richmond. They had been engaged, but it ended within six months. The investigator never discovered the reason for their breakup. But now he knew—infidelity.

  Joshua displayed a knowing smile. “I agree with you.”

  Her mouth formed a perfect little O before she pursed her lips tightly. She hadn’t expected him to agree. “Are you saying that you would never be unfaithful to your wife?”

  He relaxed against the back of the chair, staring intently at her. It was as if he could hear her silent plea for him to help her overcome the mistrust, show that all men weren’t selfish, lascivious monsters who thought only of their own needs or desires. “I would not only not be unfaithful to my wife, but to any woman I found myself involved with.”

  Vanessa searched his features for a hint of guile, but found none as she tried to assess his impassive countenance. His statement that he would be faithful sounded like a challenge. But was it one she could afford to accept?

  “You sound so noble, Mr. Kirkland,” she drawled sarcastically.

  Successfully concealing his frustration, Joshua inclined his head. “Thank you, Miss Blanchard.”

  Inwardly he cursed and thanked Kenneth Richmond. He cursed him for making Vanessa reticent with men. He thanked him because she hadn’t been involved with any man for more than four years, and that would make his assignment much easier than he had originally thought.

  He knew instinctively that Vanessa was a passionate as well as a sensual woman, and he also knew that she was comfortable with her femininity. Her revealing attire confirmed that.

  For the second time since he had met Vanessa Blanchard Joshua displayed a warm, easy smile. The gesture deepened the attractive lines at the corners of his luminous eyes, darkened their color from a light peridot to a rich emerald green, and displayed his straight, white teeth.

  “I’ve invited you to dinner so that both of us can enjoy an evening filled with an excellent wine, good food, and enjoyable entertainment. Would you mind if I ordered a bottle of champagne to begin?”

  Vanessa returned his smile, replying, “Not at all.”

  She again surprised him with the transformation of her features. Whether she was aware of it or not, she was born to smile, he thought; at that moment he pledged that over the next eight days he would make certain to brighten her eyes, soften her mouth with laughter, and identify her contact.

  Gesturing to a waiting sommelier with a barely perceptible motion of his left forefinger, he ordered a bottle of vintage French champagne in fluid Spanish.

  A waiter replaced the departing sommelier, asking if they were ready to order. He had directed his question to Joshua, though his dark gaze lingered leisurely on Vanessa.

  “The lady and I will let you know when we are ready to order dinner.” Though he spoke politely, there was no mistaking the slight reprimand in Joshua’s tone.

  “Sí, señor.” The white jacket-clad waiter quickly backed away from the table. The maître d’ had given him explicit instructions to take good care of the pale-haired Señor Kirkland, and that was what he wanted to do. But the man the maître d’ then referred to as El Rubio frightened him. One glance at El Rubio’s cold gaze made him feel as if he had glimpsed the eyes of death.

  The sommelier returned, showed Joshua the label on the bottle of champagne, then expertly extracted the cork. Their waiter reappeared with two fluted glasses and a crystal ice bucket filled with cracked ice. After settling the bottle into the ice, the sommelier and waiter retreated silently.

  Vanessa was puzzled that Joshua hadn’t requested a wine list when ordering a champagne rare as a 1938 Châteauneuf-du-Pape.

  “How did you know La Mérida stocked that particular brand of champagne?” she questioned.

  “I called them last night and asked. Why?”

  “Do they stock it?”

  “No. But they offered to pick up a few bottles from another hotel that does. Is there something wrong with this brand?”

  She stared wordlessly across at him, her heart pounding. Did he actually know, or was it just a coincidence? “That brand of champagne is the only one that I can drink.” To her surprise, Joshua showed no reaction to her disclosure, and as their gazes met she felt a shiver of uneasiness.

  “How propitious. We have something in common, because it happens to be a favorite of mine.” He dropped his gaze and a sweep of charcoal gray lashes brushed his cheekbones. He hadn’t lied to her, because it was one of only two brands he would drink. “I think of it as a good omen. Don’t you?” Tilting his chin, he winked at her.

  “I’ll let you know,” she replied, not committing herself.

  The tenderness in his
expression made his face appear boyish. But Vanessa knew there was nothing boyish in a thirty-eight-year-old man who was proficient in six languages; a man who traveled throughout the world to earn his living.

  She touched her left earlobe where she normally wore a small gold hoop. She had acquired the habit of touching her ear whenever she was deep in thought, and now she wondered what she was doing sharing dinner with a man who was a complete stranger—an attractive one, but still a stranger. Had she acted too hastily? Perhaps she shouldn’t have accepted his invitation. Why had she waited to leave the United States to accept a date from a man, when she had declined numerous offers from men she knew?

  Pushing back his chair, Joshua crossed one leg over the opposite knee. “When will you let me know?”

  She managed a small smile. “Tonight.”

  “Tonight?” he questioned, arching an eyebrow.

  “Just before I close the door to my hotel room and bid you buenas noches.”

  He pressed the knuckles of his right hand to his mouth, shaking his head. As he glanced up, his eyes sparkled with laughter. “You really know how to hurt a guy.”

  Vanessa also laughed, the sound light and tinkling. “What do you expect, Joshua?” His hand dropped and he stared at her, a strange expression on his face. Her own body stiffened. “What’s wrong?”

  His gaze traveled slowly over her face, lingering on her mouth. “That was the first time you called me by my name.”

  “Joshua,” she repeated in a soft whisper.

  His mouth curved with tenderness as a sensuous flame fired his electric gaze. “Do you really want to know what I expect?”

  Resting her elbows on the table, Vanessa laced her manicured fingers together. “And do you expect me to answer that?”

  “I expect you to tell me something about Vanessa Blanchard.”

  “There’s not much to tell.”

  Pushing his chair farther away from the table, he rose to his feet. “Let me be the judge of that. You can tell me about yourself while we dance.” The two singers had left the stage, leaving the band playing a slow, rhythmic composition. He took four steps, circled the small table, and extended his hand.

  She stared at his proffered hand. “I don’t dance.”

  A corner of his mouth lifted. “It’s slow, and all you’ll have to do is follow me.”

  “Don’t blame me if I step all over your shoes and ruin the leather,” she warned with a smile, rising to her feet.

  He curved an arm around her narrow waist and led her out onto the floor, where a half dozen couples swayed in time to music with a distinctive Latin beat.

  “I’ll buy another pair,” he whispered against her ear, while swinging her into a close embrace, his right arm tightening comfortably around her waist.

  Vanessa felt the press of Joshua Kirkland’s body against hers, and she registered the silent, sensual aura that drew her to him although she fought the pull. Her left hand rested on his shoulder, then moved up, grazing the collar of his suit jacket.

  “Tell me about Vanessa,” he urged, whispering into her hair and eliciting a slight shiver from her.

  She reveled in the slim hardness of his body and the hauntingly erotic scent of his cologne, sighing. “Vanessa Blanchard is a thirty-three-year-old accountant who lives in Santa Fe. End of story.”

  “Married?”

  “No.”

  “Children?”

  “No.”

  “Is there a significant other in your life at this time?”

  “End of story,” she enunciated with a tone of finality.

  Joshua chuckled and pulled her closer, but didn’t press her for more than she was willing to disclose. He still had time. Closing his eyes, he committed everything about Vanessa to memory: her breasts burning his chest, the narrow curve of her waist and womanly flare of her hips, the solid tightness of her slender thighs pressed against his, the silky feel of her flawless face, and her hypnotic, feminine scent.

  He lowered his head and nuzzled her ear, his warm breath feathering over her neck. She stiffened and he tightened his hold until she relaxed, her curves melding to his.

  “For someone who doesn’t dance you are very good, Miss Blanchard.”

  “That’s because you’re an excellent lead.”

  She closed her eyes, following his intricate steps and losing herself in the music, the moment, and the man.

  Dancing with him reminded her of what she had been missing. She was a normal woman—with needs and desires; she wanted to be in love, marry, and eventually have children; she wanted a man to love and protect her.

  She had been alone for so long that she’d grown used to it. Her work at Grenville-Edwards and her hobbies kept her so busy she did not think of herself as lonely. She lived alone, but she was never lonely.

  The music ended and Joshua and Vanessa stood in the middle of the dance floor, smiling at each other. Then, without looking away, she backed out of his grasp. He stepped forward, closing the distance, and placed an outstretched hand at the small of her back.

  “Thank you for the dance,” he said in a hushed tone.

  Vanessa nodded, permitting him to lead her back to their table. She watched Joshua pour the pale, bubbling champagne into the two glasses, admiring the perfection of his slender hands. They were beautifully formed, the fingers long, tapered and well-groomed.

  He handed her a half-filled glass, then lifted his own. “To Mexico and…”

  His gaze lowered, as had his voice, and he did not say what he wanted to say. If necessary, he planned to seduce Vanessa, but what bothered him was that he wanted to seduce her.

  “And an evening filled with excellent wine, good food, and enjoyable entertainment,” she said, completing his toast and repeating his statement.

  “¡Salud!” he returned, touching glasses before he took a deep swallow of the cooling wine. It was what he needed to ease the warmth which built up in his chest when he realized where he wanted Vanessa, and what he wanted to do to her.

  “¡Salud!” She put her glass to her lips and sipped the premium champagne, savoring the bubbles settling on her tongue.

  Joshua stared at Vanessa over the rim of his glass, wondering what it was about her that made him think only of her and not the mission he was committed to completing.

  When he had taken Vanessa into his arms and danced with her, he had consciously pushed the reason he had followed her to Mexico out of his mind, and in forgetting about his mission he had realized how much he wanted to live a normal life. A life free of the risks of surveillance.

  He had grown tired of sleeping in strange hotel beds and living out of his suitcase years before, and left the shadowy world of military intelligence for four years. But he had come back, back to snare a woman whose above-average intelligence had baffled the government’s team of accounting experts.

  The accountants were frustrated because they could not find the Defense Department’s two million dollars. Joshua considered the money inconsequential when he thought of how the country’s national security had been compromised with the sale of the classified components for the laser-guided bombs. That meant no U.S. citizen was safe—on the ground or in the air.

  As he concentrated on the reason why he was sitting across the table from Vanessa Blanchard, his familiar detached expression was back in place.

  “Are you ready to order?” he queried.

  Vanessa missed the cold and impersonal tone in his voice as she spread her menu out in front of her. She studied the section labeled polio.

  Touching her left earlobe with her forefinger, she said quietly, “I’ll have the grilled peppers with chicken.”

  “Good choice. I’m going to order the fish in a garlic sauce.”

  Joshua gave the waiter their orders. Then he and Vanessa sat silently, drinking champagne.

  If Vanessa was perplexed by the sudden shift in Joshua’s mood, she did not reveal it as she sat opposite him eating her spicy chicken entrée and drinking champagne.
r />   She noticed that he preferred the European style of eating, with his fork in his left hand rather than the right that Americans favored. Everything about him was exacting—from his dining etiquette to the way he interacted with her. There was something in his manner that conveyed that Joshua Kirkland was perfect—a little too perfect.

  He appeared to have it all: looks, intelligence and, judging from the cut of his expertly tailored, dark blue suit, money. The longer she remained in his presence the more she wondered why some woman hadn’t claimed him for a husband.

  “You’re not originally from Santa Fe, are you?” Joshua asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

  Lowering her fork, Vanessa gave him a direct stare. “How did you know?”

  “You don’t sound like someone from the Southwest. You must remember that I do a great deal of traveling, and I’ve learned to listen to accents, dialects, and regional inflections.”

  “Well, Mister World Traveler,” she teased, “where do you think I’m from?”

  Joshua’s rare smile was back in place. “Somewhere along the West Coast. California, Oregon, or Washington state.”

  “California,” she confirmed. “Which city?”

  Closing his eyes, he toyed with the stem of his wineglass. “You don’t sound like San Francisco or Sacramento, so it would have to be southern California.”

  “Which city?” Vanessa repeated.

  “San Diego or Los Angeles.”

  He opened his eyes, confidence shining from their depths. Even if he hadn’t read the information the Justice Department gathered on Vanessa Blanchard, he still would have been able to uncover a lot of information about her by mere observation.

  “San Diego.” He had deliberately given her a wrong answer.

  “Los Angeles,” she confirmed, this time with a warm smile. “You’re very good, Joshua.”

  He inclined his head. “Thank you, Vanessa.”

  “You say you travel a lot. Do you like it?”

  A furrow creased his smooth forehead. “I used to.”