An Inconvenient Affair (The Alpha Brotherhood #1)(14)
Author: Catherine Mann

She struggled to sort through so much information coming at her so fast. “Why do you need both of us to identify him?”

Troy snapped the crystal drink stirrer. “Yes, Colonel, please do enlighten us, because I’ve been wondering the same thing.”

“Some things in life are on a need-to-know basis and neither of you need to know why I chose to play it this way. Troy, my tech guy has forwarded you all the security footage from tonight. I hope to hear good news from you both by morning.” He nodded to Hillary. “Your luggage has already been brought here so you can change out of your formal wear.”

Share a suite with Troy? She eyed the two doors leading to bedrooms. Where was the colonel staying? “And if we find who we’re looking for in the video feed right away, we can all go home? This is over?”

“Troy will contact me in my suite across the hall. Once we’ve reviewed what you found, you’ll be free to leave. If anyone sees you leaving the hotel, let the partiers here think you’re spending your weekend together somewhere else.”

“You’re just sending Hillary back to D.C. unprotected after making her a target?” Troy snorted. “Think again.”

A target? Surely, he was exaggerating.

“And don’t you think she was every bit as much a target before? Helping us is her best shot at getting back a normal life. Good luck convincing her to do anything your way after the masterfully foolish way you’ve pissed her off,” Colonel Salvatore shot over his shoulder before walking out the door.

The door clicked. Then clicked twice more as Troy secured all of the locks, sealing her inside with him.

Hillary shot to her feet and charged over to the panoramic window, suddenly claustrophobic and needing to embrace the open space of the outside. “I can’t believe I was such an idiot.”

Troy walked up beside her, hands stuffed in his tuxedo pockets. He didn’t look surprised. And why not? He’d been playing her from the start.

“Damn you, Troy Donavon.” She smacked her palm on the glass. “I was kicking myself for falling for your act on the plane. I knew better than to trust you, and still I bought into your line of bull only a few hours later. You must have been laughing the whole time at how gullible I was.”

“Hey, I’m the good guy. There’s nothing wrong with your instincts.” Broken stirrer in hand, he tapped the glass right by her hand. “And I can promise I was never laughing at you. I just wanted to keep you safe.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “How are you a good guy? I’m working with the colonel to get myself out of trouble because of a stupid choice I made in who I trusted. If the colonel’s coercing you to be here as well, that isn’t exactly a vote of confidence for the man to keep me safe.”

“Let’s just say he’s a friend and he needed my help—all of which I’m sure he will confirm.” Troy leaned closer, the heat of him reaching out to her in the air-conditioned suite. “When I saw you and realized what you were walking into, I thought you could use some… reinforcements.”

“But you lied to me. Again, after the auction.” And that hurt, too much for someone she’d just met. “On the dance floor, and every second on the balcony when you didn’t tell me you knew why I’m here. When you kissed me. You lied by not explaining you’re here for the same reason. You played me for a fool.”

His deep green gaze glinted with so much sincerity it hurt. “I wasn’t playing you, and I never, never thought you were foolish. My only concern from the second I saw you on the plane has been protecting you from any fallout.”

“And seducing me? Is that part of protecting me?” The memory of his kiss steamed through her so tangibly she could swear it might fog the window.

He stepped closer. “Protecting you and being attracted to you don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

She pressed a hand to his chest to stop him, that damn silk scarf of his teasing her fingers, making her burn to tug him even nearer. “Doesn’t that break some kind of code of ethics?”

“I’m not a cop or detective or military guy or even a James Bond spy.” He tossed aside the broken drink stick he’d been holding and pressed his hand over hers. “So, no. Seducing you doesn’t interfere with my ethics.”

“You’re just…what? Please do explain.” She stared into his eyes, hoping to find some window into his soul, some way to understand what was real about this whole crazy evening with him.

“I’m a concerned citizen with the power to help out, as you are.” His voice rang true, but there was a cadence to his answer that sounded too practiced. There had to be something more to his story, to why he was here. But from the set of his jaw, clearly he didn’t intend to tell her.

“Then why did you kiss me?” To have that toe-curling moment tainted was just the final slap.

“Because I wanted to. I still do.” He didn’t lean in, but his fingers curved around hers until their hands were linked. The connection between them crackled all over again, even without the kiss.

God, what was wrong with her?

She snatched her hand away. “Well, that’s damn well never going to happen again.” She backed away from him and his too-tempting smile. “Would you please set up your computer while I change? We have work to do. I would like to finish as fast as possible so we can say goodbye to each other and to this whole horrible mess.”

* * *

Hillary locked herself in the spare bedroom and sagged back against the six-paneled door. Crystal knob in hand, she propped herself up. But just barely.

As if the day hadn’t promised to be stressful enough, she’d been blindsided by Troy again and again.

She scanned the room, her temporary sanctuary with flock fleur-de-lis wallpaper and a dark mahogany bed. Whereas the sitting area had been wide-open with a wall of windows, this room was heavily curtained, perfect for sleeping or curling up in a French, art deco chaise by the fireplace.

For now, she needed to focus on her suitcase, which rested on an antique luggage rack at the end of the carved four-poster bed. She pitched her clutch bag on the duvet and sifted through what she’d packed for something appropriate to wear. What did a person choose for an evening with a guy she wanted, but needed to hold at arm’s length? Confidently casual, with a hint of sparkle for her bruised pride—

Her phone vibrated inside her clutch, sending the purse bouncing along the mattress. She raced to grab the cell—and saw her sister Claudia’s phone number.