The dress Celina was wearing was Marc Jacobs, a gorgeous flesh-pink silk and gauze combination with a beaded halter that showed off every inch of her assets to full advantage. When she’d met Emilio at the door of her apartment, he’d been speechless for the first time since she’d met him. Speechless was good.
She hoped Cooper would be speechless when he saw her too.
The first part of her plan a success at the apartment, she’d kept the distaste off her face and smiled as Emilio twirled her around, ogling every inch of her body. It had worked. He did not have his security goon search her, because he was either so enthralled with the merchandise that his mind went blank, or he was so sure she wasn’t anything other than a beautiful woman in a slip of a dress who would finally share his bed tonight.
His mistake. The microphone she wore was a cordless number she’d sewn behind the large jewel centered at the cusp of her cleavage. The transmitter, a small, square, plastic box, was tucked into the left cup of her bra. Off-balanced breasts would have been too noticeable in the dress, so she’d sewn a thick layer of Kleenex between the fabric and the lining of the other cup to even things out.
Which did a great job of hefting her boobs into outer space.
“Oh, look at the sky.” Celina tilted her head to look through the open moon roof. “Let’s stop at the boardwalk and go down to the beach.”
Emilio frowned before looking back at the road. “It’s late. Too late. Parking anywhere along here—” he waved his hand at the empty parking lane next to the concrete sidewalks “—will get my car towed. Let’s go back to my place.”
“Please,” Celina begged. She shifted her pleading eyes to his face and again brushed her boobilicious upper body against his. “A walk on the beach would be the perfect ending to this night.”
She scooted as close to him as the seats allowed and mentally morphed him into her fantasy man before she ran her right hand around his stomach. Her fingers touched leather. Gun holster. One that held a mean Glock.
Nothing like reality to interrupt her fantasy.
Sliding her fingers under the gun, she gave him a small hug and resuscitated the image of Cooper. Sexy, serious. Beast in the urban slang so widely used in the surf shops and outdoor restaurants she frequented when not on duty. She’d started calling him that behind his back, and the other taskforce members had picked it up. Cooper hated it. She loved that he hated it. He was no beast. In fact, he was two hundred and thirty pounds of sexy. And she wanted to be his Beauty.
Probably a lot of women in the DEA, FBI, and CIA had their own particular fantasies about him. Women all over Southern Cal as well. Too bad for them, she played hard and never gave up. He’d be hers. And soon.
While Cooper and Emilio were at opposite ends of the spectrum, running her fantasy-man mental movie always worked when she had to deal with Emilio. That particular mind game was the only thing that had kept her seduction act even close to believable the past few weeks.
She placed a soft kiss on Emilio’s neck, still pretending he was Cooper. Which took a superior imagination. “One of your men could drive the car around for a few minutes while we walk the beach.” She nipped the lobe of his ear. “If you’re scared of getting towed.”
Emilio’s two bodyguards were behind them in a black SUV. They were characteristically big, bad and ugly. To arrest Emilio without endangering anyone, Celina had to ditch them and get him totally alone. If one bodyguard had to drive their vehicle and one had to drive the Porsche, she’d have Emilio all to herself.
The key to success. Easy on paper. Hard in reality.
Time for the big guns. Or boobs, in this case.
“The night is dark and the beach is unlit,” she said softly. Emilio leaned toward her and she teased his lips with hers as she spoke. “The rocky walls and concrete boardwalks will hide us. You don’t need your security detail.”
She switched her lips to his earlobe, and still envisioning Cooper, she whispered, “You’ll love this dress even more when it’s wet.”
That sealed it. Emilio’s hand came off the gear stick and grabbed her by the back of the head. He drew her to him, bringing his mouth down on hers even as he drove the car.
Forcing herself not to recoil, Celina shifted her imagination into high gear. It was Cooper whose tongue was now in her mouth. Cooper holding her captive while they sped down the road ten miles over the speed limit, playing a dangerous game of make-out roulette.
She forced herself to return Emilio’s ardor with her own.