The Cinderella Mission (Family Secrets #1)(15)
Author: Catherine Mann

Although it made a decent start.

What was he doing? His computer screen split into multiple images of the mansion grounds. He clicked keys. Angles widened.

Kelly spun her chair for a better look. She hadn’t considered there might be a threat behind Ethan’s fortress walls. She understood the risks involved in setting a trap the night of the embassy gala. But why would there be safety concerns prior to that?

She hoped his grounds perusal was only routine.

He tapped two more keys, then leaned back. His chair squeaked a slow call almost as lengthy as his legs. “Whatcha got there, Taylor?”

The warm glow of lamps over the desk cast an umbrella of privacy in the darkened apartment, almost as if they were suspended in air together. Every detail of his face called to her for study, for touching—the thick arch of his dark brows, the strong jaw with an enticing cleft in the chin, and a thin scar on the side of his neck. Only about two inches long, it had faded so much she might not have noticed except it contrasted with his tan.

Kelly tore her gaze away and back to the safety of her translations. “I’m working through Morrow’s references to overhearing about a stein.”

“A brewsky?” He quirked a brow.

Kelly smiled under the shield of her hair. “I doubt it. Although it’s still unclear. Many words in the German, Gastonian and Rebelian languages overlap, but the shades of meaning can differ. That can make interpretations difficult. Stein basically means stone. But what kind of stone? Rock, gem, jewel? It serves as a root word for so many variations. Look here.” She keyed in a list of words. “Gestein means rocks. But edelstein is jewel or gem. And this, see, feuerstein.”

His eyes fell to her mouth as she formed the words. “Feuer?”

“Fire stone.” She resisted the urge to bite her lips. “It’s like they’re trying to confuse the issue.”

“Or bury the meaning.” He cleared his throat and pointed to the screen. “What about this?”

“Ein herz aus stein.”

Ethan shut his eyes as if concentrating on the phrase for interpretation. The process must have pained him since his brow furrowed.

“Herz means heart.” A heart she wanted to protect.

“Stone heart?”

“No.” Although she wished for one when dealing with this man. “Heart of the stone.”

He stared at her with eyes so blue she’d only seen them on a precious newborn. No man should have eyes that beautiful.

His gaze held hers, wouldn’t let go any more than he’d been willing to cut her slack on the exercise mats earlier. Although now, she had no edge. No defenses. She battled a deep yearning to press her lips to that scar on his neck and taste his skin.

A drone startled her. A buzz? Kelly jerked back into her chair.

Ethan scrubbed a hand over his chin. “The door.”

He pointed to the surveillance images on his screen and Kelly grasped the distraction with both hands. The screen displayed a young woman waiting at the base of the stairs, holding a tray with a cloth draped over it. Kelly sifted through the countless introductions from earlier and placed the girl as the cook’s granddaughter, around nineteen or twenty, a college student working part time at Williams Manor.

Ethan rolled his chair away from the desk and stood. “Supper. I’ll be back in a second.”

“She must know what the inside of your refrigerator looks like.”

His low chuckle floated up for a sneak attack on her senses. She’d barely recovered when he popped into view on the security camera. Kelly couldn’t resist leaning closer to listen.

Ethan took the tray from the blond teenybopper in a snow parka with white fur. “Thank you, Brittany.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Williams,” she crooned, bouncing on her toes like an overeager kid.

Kelly jabbed a finger at the screen. “He’s old enough to be your father, Brittany.”

Well, almost.

And who was she to talk, only twenty-four herself? Eleven years younger than Ethan.

He slid from the camera’s angle, but Brittany stayed. Watching. Her face so open and lovesick that compassion swept aside Kelly’s jealousy.

She chewed a nail and studied the screen until it blurred. Did she look at him like that, too, so young and hungry and full of longing for something she knew full well could never happen?

God, she hoped not.

The door snicked, then swung open.

“Prepare to feast.” Ethan kicked the door shut again and set the tray on the kitchenette table.

Kelly hooked her arm on the back of her chair and looked down onto the too-intimate dining setup. It was just dinner, she told herself and started to stand.

An image of Brittany’s face doused those thoughts.

Kelly sunk back into her chair. “How about bringing it up here so we can keep working?”

“Hatch doesn’t pay overtime, you know.” Ethan reached into the refrigerator and pulled out two long-neck bottles.

Alcohol and Ethan at the same time? Unwise.

She needed to keep her inhibitions firmly in place around him. Time to shut down the hormones and get to work before she turned into a Brittany. “Water for me, please.”

Ethan reached into the refrigerator and let the cool blast wash over him. Like it actually made a dent in his overheated body temp.

He’d already had enough. Frustration churned through him and he still had two more weeks left shut up in a suddenly too-damned-small apartment conjugating German verbs with Kelly.

He wanted to pick a fight, feel something other than this damned destructive need to lead Kelly into his bedroom and discover how the stars shining through his skylight would play on her pale skin.

Ethan waggled a bottle at her and pressed. “It’s imported.”

“I’m working. And it’s from the supermarket. I can see the sticker on the six-pack carrier from here.”

“Busted.” He swapped one beer for bottled water, keeping the other long-neck in hand. He carried the food up the stairs, past his room and up to the open loft. Kelly didn’t even acknowledge his presence, instead presenting him with a view of her back. Her hair shimmered half way down only to be captured by the back of the chair.

Lucky chair.

He ached to gather up a fistful of that hair, see it spread over his pillow in stark contrast to silver-gray sheets. Tension wound tighter within him.

He slammed the tray on the stretch of desk between their workstations and grabbed his beer. Kicking back in his chair, he tipped the bottle for a long drag.

Kelly’s fingers never hesitated on the keyboard, but her mouth pulled tight. Even pinched, her lips tempted him to tease them to fullness again. Ethan nursed another swig off his bottle while watching her through amber glass.