No Strings... Read online

  Perry stared at him in shock. “You’d sacrifice your job for Chloe’s, just like that?”

  Aiden nodded, knowing he’d sacrifice a helluva lot more for the woman he’d fallen in love with and wanted in his life—every single day. “That’s how much she means to me.”

  Perry considered his proposition for a moment, then spoke. “I think we could make that work.”

  Relief poured through Aiden, and he stood, feeling triumphant. “I’d like to get the agreement in writing, sir.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Perry stood and the two of them shook hands. “I have to say, I hate like hell losing you, but I have no doubt you’ll be just fine.”

  “I know I will be,” Aiden said with certainty. He might be starting his own firm sooner than he’d anticipated, but his decision felt good and right. And with Chloe by his side, supporting him, he knew he’d succeed.

  Now, he just had to go and get the girl.

  * * *

  AFTER WORK, Aiden drove directly to Chloe’s apartment, admittedly nervous about how this evening might end. He’d like to believe she’d forgive him, but the possibility existed that she wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him or his apology.

  He refused to even consider the latter.

  He knocked on her door and heard footsteps nearing on the other side, then they stopped. Silence ensued. He knew she was looking through the peephole, and enough time passed that he was fairly certain she was going to completely ignore him.

  “Open the door, Chloe,” he said gently. “I need to talk to you.”

  No reply. He blew out a frustrated stream of breath and dragged his fingers through his hair. The stubborn woman was going to make him suffer—rightly so—but he could be just as determined.

  “There’s a lot I have to say, and I’m not going anywhere until I do,” he persisted. “If I have to say it from this side of the door, I will, but I’d rather not have your neighbors listening in to the conversation.”

  Finally, the lock turned and the door opened, with Chloe standing on the other side. She wore a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. She wore no makeup and her hair was in a ponytail. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen—except for the irritable scowl on her face.

  “Can I come in?” he asked.

  Still not saying a word—though the apprehension in her body language spoke volumes—she stepped aside and let him enter. He’d never been inside her apartment before, and the living area was decorated in deep purples and forest-green. The room was warm, vibrant and inviting—like the woman herself when she wasn’t so angry with him.

  He turned to face Chloe, who was standing too far away for his liking, but he understood why the distance was there. He’d put it between them, and he hated himself for doing so.

  She continued to stare at him, silent, not making any of this easy on him. “I owe you an apology for ever doubting that you’d do anything to hurt me,” he said, the words heartfelt.

  Her chin lifted an imperious inch. “Yes, you do.”

  She still wasn’t softening, wasn’t falling into his arms like he’d imagined. His gut tightened, but he hadn’t thought it would be that easy. “I was an idiot, and I’m so sorry, Chloe. For ever believing that you are anything less than someone I can trust unconditionally. I’m sorry for leaving you alone on the island, instead of staying and talking things through with you.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “Okay.”

  Okay? That’s all he got...just okay?

  Her tone was flat and emotionless, and it scared the hell out of Aiden, made him fear that he was too late to repair any damage he’d done. He swallowed back the huge knot of uncertainty lodged in his throat and tried again. “Will you forgive me?”

  “Why should I?” she said with a shrug of her shoulder.

  He groaned. She was killing him with her cool indifference, and Aiden was forced to admit that his brother was right. He was going to have to grovel. Pull out the big guns to shake a real, emotional response from her.

  “Why should you forgive me?” he asked, slowly stepping toward her. “Because I love you.”

  She gasped and took a step back, her eyes widening in shock.

  Satisfied that he now had her full attention, he continued to move closer. “I’m so sorry that I let my past affect things between the two of us, because you are nothing like Paige. I was an idiot, and it wasn’t until I’d lost you that I fully realized what holding on to the hurt from that betrayal was costing me. A future with you.”

  He stopped in front of her. “I know for a fact that you love me,” he said, his gaze holding hers as he continued to list all the reasons why she had to accept his apology. “Because I want to be with you. Because I want to marry you and create a family together.”

  She shook her head furiously. “You can’t just come in here and say those kind of things to me, Aiden. Not unless you absolutely mean every word.”

  God, he loved her fire, her spirit. “I do mean every single word.” He took her shaking hands in his, holding them tight. “There’s always been something between the two of us. For two years we’ve worked together and denied our attraction, but a strong friendship developed. And then, on the island, being with you and seeing who you really are away from the office, well, it wasn’t hard to fall in love with you. Even Hattie knew before I did,” he said with a crooked smile. “I resisted, because of what happened with Paige, but there is no doubt in my mind that I love you, that I want to do whatever it takes to make it work between us.”

  “Oh, Aiden—” Her voice cracked with emotion, cutting off her words, and moisture shimmered in her eyes.

  He panicked, his heart jolting in his chest. “Please tell me that those are tears of happiness.”

  “They are,” she said, and laughed. “Oh, God, they are.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, and the emotions that poured through Aiden were stronger than anything he’d ever felt before. He wholeheartedly embraced the feelings, and welcomed the need and desire she evoked in him.

  The kiss deepened, the heat and passion between them escalating. Her moan of surrender was his undoing, making him desperate to be inside of her again, to feel that connection, and by mutual agreement they made their way to her bedroom. She was just as frantic as they tugged and pulled their clothes off, until they were both naked and he pressed her down onto the soft mattress. Framing her beautiful face in his hands, he lowered his head and took her mouth the same way he took her body...slowly, deeply, sensuously, until they were both unable to do anything but give in to the inevitable pleasure they created together.

  Completely spent and ridiculously happy, Chloe snuggled against Aiden’s side and rested her head on his shoulder, feeling more content than she could ever remember. Forgiving Aiden was easy, because she understood why he’d jumped to the conclusions he had, even if it had been a painful experience for her to go through. And, he’d groveled with such conviction and sincerity, which had gone a long way in proving to her that he was a man who could admit when he was wrong.

  She sighed and smiled to herself as he lazily stroked a warm hand along her hip and trailed his fingers along the dip of her waist. She was in love, Aiden loved her, and her world couldn’t be more perfect...until she remembered the one thing that could tear them apart.

  A surge of panic rippled through her, and she lifted her head and stared down at Aiden, who looked up at her with slumberous, sexy eyes. “What are we going to do about work?” she asked. “If anyone finds out that you and I are in a relationship...”

  “Perry already knows. I told him about us.”

  “You did?” Aiden looked so calm and unconcerned, while Chloe couldn’t stop the dread swirling in her stomach. “Are we both fired?” She wasn’t giving up Aiden, but she would have rather quit the firm, rather than have a termination on her employment record.

  “Nobody’s fired, and you still have a job,” he said, smiling at he
r. “In fact, Luca called Perry and wants to incorporate both our concepts for his campaign, and so I made a deal with Perry. I’m going to stay for the next three months to help you finalize the St. Raphael campaign, and then I’m resigning from the firm and the account becomes yours, along with half of the bonus.”

  Her jaw dropped open. “What? You can’t do that!”

  “I can and I did,” he assured her. “It was either that, or one or both of us would be fired. I wasn’t going to risk you losing your job.”

  She swallowed hard, realizing what he’d done for her, what he’d sacrificed. “But what about you?”

  “I’m good. Honest.” He lifted his hand and tenderly caressed her cheek. “I’ve been planning on starting up my own ad agency for a while now. This just pushes up the time frame a bit faster. And guess what?”

  Humor danced in his eyes, making her smile and curious to know what amused him. “What?”

  “If you ever want to come to work for me, which I’m hoping you will at some point in the future, you won’t have to worry about a no dating policy.” A sinful grin curved his lips. “In fact, I’ll have to insist that you sleep with the boss.”

  She laughed, knowing she’d be taking advantage of that special perk. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Lying in Bed by Jo Leigh!

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  1

  SPECIAL AGENT RYAN VAIL tossed the brochure on the bed. The amazingly comfortable-looking bed, which was a far cry from most of the rat holes he’d been stuck with on various FBI stings and stakeouts. The Color Canyon Resort and Spa was a decadent oasis in the middle of the Las Vegas desert built for people with cash to spend and a yen for excitement and being pampered.

  Ryan settled against the headboard, the puffy comforter billowing around him. Straight ahead was a forty-two-inch flat-screen TV. There was a wing chair, a leather love seat, an extravagantly stocked minibar and, if he turned his head to the right, beyond the private patio was a view of a nice little courtyard with a pool and spa pool all in the shadow of the Spring Mountains. It might be February in the rest of the world, but in the Vegas desert it was a balmy seventy-two degrees with copious sunshine on the docket for the rest of the week.

  He grinned, pulled out his cell phone and went right to speed dial text.

  You’re gonna die when you see the bathtub.

  He hit Send, adjusted the pillow behind him and checked out his work stuff. Another email update on Delilah Bridges, one of the cotherapists in charge of this barbecue. Four people ran the Intimate At Last retreat weekends, all suspects in a major blackmail scheme. Unfortunately for them, they’d unwittingly targeted a friend of James Leonard, the Deputy Director of the FBI.

  Ryan’s phone rang, and he knew it was his partner without even looking. “Jeannie Foster. How’s my favorite witness for the State?”

  “Shut up, you bastard,” she said, her voice echoey, as if she were speaking in a vast hall. Or a toilet stall.

  Of course, he’d taken a picture of the big-enough-for-a-party whirlpool tub, which he promptly sent her. A moment later, the mother of two cursed him with her usual flair.

  “I hate court. I hate lawyers. I hate judges. And don’t even get me started on juries. Get me the hell out of here, Ryan.”

  “It should be over soon, right?”

  “Probably around the time of the next ice age. Jesus, they love to hear themselves talk.”

  “In a few hours you’ll forget all about them. This place is something else. If I’m going to be forced to sleep with you, I’m glad it’s in this beauty of a bed. Which is actually more comfortable than mine at home.”

  Jeannie laughed. “It’s not the bed, honey, it’s all your extracurricular activity. I think you’d have to find a titanium mattress to keep up.”

  “You’re hilarious.”

  “Nothing is hilarious today,” she said. “You get the new updates on Delilah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her sigh was long and filled with frustration. “Interesting about her father and his criminal record, but dammit, still nothing usable. With all the data we’ve collected, you’d think we’d have uncovered something more viable.”

  “Everyone makes mistakes. But,” he added, “I’m going to be such a perfect mark, they’re gonna wet themselves waiting to get to me. We’ll be out of here in a few days.”

  “I thought you said the accommodations were super deluxe?”

  He grinned. This is why he liked his partner, despite the fact that she could be a stick in the mud, what with being married and a mom. She was quick...and needed a vacation as badly as he did after the intensity of the past two months preparing for this sting. “Right. Maybe it’ll take the whole week.”

  “There we go. I have to get back to the torture chamber. I hear they’re planning on using the rack next.”

  “Hey, I’m gonna sign off on this phone, but Ryan Ebsen’s cell and laptop haven’t finished charging. If there’s a God, I should be asleep when you arrive, so don’t wake me.”

  “Coming off another late night, Romeo?”

  “None of your business. Go be a witness.”

  “I’ll talk to you in the morning,” she said, and then she was gone, and he was faced with the prospect of what to do with the rest of the afternoon.

  It would be more fun to play craps or hang out in one of the casino bars, but from the moment he’d checked in, FBI Special Agent Ryan Vail was locked in a vault for the duration of his stay, replaced by the fictitious Ryan Ebsen. Husband of the equally fictitious Jeannie Ebsen. Son of Felicia and Bob from Reseda, California.

  Ryan sifted through the file, studying the cover story he already knew inside and out. But when you pretended to be someone else, there was no such thing as too much prep. Ebsen was a regional manager for a business software firm. His lovely bride of nineteen months didn’t work because she didn’t need to. Not because he brought in enough money to live their extravagant life, but because she had a trust fund. A very hefty trust fund.

  But Mrs. Ebsen had been spending a little too much time at the club lately with a very handsome tennis coach, which made Ryan itchy. He doubted they were sleeping together, but there was always a risk that if she started to feel as if the honeymoon was over, she could find solace in the tennis pro’s arms. It had been Ryan Ebsen’s idea to attend this couple’s retreat week, where they would “Learn how to transition to the deeper, more meaningful stage of a committed relationship.”

  Mr. Ebsen, the scoundrel, really, really wanted to make the marriage work. He’d grown attached to their Brentwood home, the Manhattan pied-à-terre, his Ferrari, the first-class travel. He’d even decided to break things off with Roxanne, the gorgeous receptionist at his office. He was nothing if not serious about this intimacy crap.

  He continued to read the email from his team in White Collar Crimes back in L.A. The first report of blackmail had come shortly after a weekend Intimate At Last retreat in Los Angeles, and since it dealt with some historic artwork and blackmail, the L.A. team had taken point on the investigation and now this sting operation. The Vegas office was up to speed, of course. No one wanted a turf war, but there was a time limit on this gig, because in a matter of weeks, the suspects were moving their base of op
eration to Cancún, Mexico.

  So he was on the clock. Since the missus wasn’t here, he’d unpack, take a swim, order room service, charge his equipment and himself. Far from the carnal night Jeannie imagined, he’d been up till dawn talking the Long Beach P.D. out of putting his old man in jail. The stubborn idiot had been drunk off his ass again, trying to pick a fight with a half-dozen marines. It was like dealing with a rebellious teenager, only his father was in his fifties.

  So sleep tonight, and tomorrow, he and Jeannie would be the very picture of a cookie-cutter couple: powdered sugar on the outside, but filled with lots and lots to lose if a certain trust-fund wife found out about her philandering hubby.

  After he’d checked out the room service menu, and thank God there was an expense account because, Jesus, the prices, he opened up his suitcase while he found the sports channel on the TV. His thoughts weren’t on the scoreboards, however, but on the reason he needed this operation to succeed beyond all expectations. Deputy Director Leonard was looking to fill a staff position in his Washington, D.C., office. Ryan was a contender in a very narrow pool of candidates. And now that he was in the spotlight, he was going to make damn sure he was a shining star.

  * * *

  ANGIE WOLF SIGHED WHEN SHE heard the voices of the rest of the White Collar Crimes team coming in from their break on the outdoor patio. Damn, it seemed as if they’d left two minutes ago, not nearly enough time for her to breathe let alone hear herself think.

  They were a great bunch: competent, dedicated and generally nice people with whom she got along well considering work colleagues were always a crapshoot. But the past two months had been brutal. She’d spent way too many hours in the office and right now she’d give anything to be alone, preferably on a ten-mile run with nothing more to worry about than beating her last record.