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Unanticipated Pairing
“That went faster than I expected.” Caitlyn covered her yawn with a hand, then reached high over her head with both arms in a long stretch.
“You mean Customs? Or the flight?” Duke asked, tucking the handle of her roller luggage in as he parked it beside his, then loading it under the bus while the driver worked on other bags. Standing upright, he watched her, enjoying the view.
“Both.” Beyond them in the trees lining the airport’s bus parking, a bird trilled an unfamiliar song and she turned her attention towards it.
Coming alongside her, Duke bent, hoisting her carry-on bag onto his own shoulder opposite his backpack, then took her elbow, directing her towards the nearest of the two bus entrances. “Twenty-five isn’t a large group. Plus, I think we got lucky. We must’ve been the first international flight landing in that terminal. Did you see the line behind us?”
Ahead of him, she shook her brown, delightful head and climbed the three stairs to the bu
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Frowning, Caitlyn powered her phone off, then tucked it back into her shoulder bag and zipped it closed moodily. “I don’t understand what’s wrong with that thing.” “We’ll use mine.” Reaching into his breast pocket, Duke pulled out his phone, then unlocked the touchscreen and handed it to her. “Do you have an international plan?” Without a second thought, Caitlyn accepted it from him, immediately ducking her head and accessing an internet browser. “Of course, I do, but obviously something’s not set up right. I’m not sure how I can fix it either when I can’t get service to call or message them.” Reaching out, he wrapped a large hand around her upper arm, pulling her out of the press of people traffic and into the protective shelter of his hulking frame. “You can use mine when we get back to the hotel.” Not that it would make any difference. It would be after call hours and Duke had no intention of letting her out of his sight even if she did have phone service,
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Caitlyn yielded, her entire body turning to mush as his tongue delved inside her mouth, fluttering over hers. Feeling her concession, Duke deepened the kiss, and was soon plundering the sweetness there aggressively, as if he could never get enough. Maybe he couldn’t. Though she trembled in his tightening arms, she was anything but cold. After so long alone, so long lost, his touch felt like the first of spring’s thaw, breaking the back of a harsh, endless winter. She closed her eyes, arching her neck, silently begging for everything his talented mouth would give. Taking as he wanted, Duke fed hungrily there, and she let him. She savored his answering desire, her fingers knotting into the soft cotton of his t-shirt then releasing in an unconscious come hither, flattening again over the solid wall of muscle beneath them. Leaning harder into him, she tentatively brushed her tongue past his, raking it along the edge of his front teeth. He stiffened as the
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“We should get gelato,” Duke stated as they emerged from the restaurant. The sun had shifted noticeably, but in the alleyway sandwiched between two multi-storied buildings as they were, that was as much information as he could glean with a quick scan of their environment. He glanced down at his watch. Pivoting, Caitlyn stopped a few steps away from him. “Gelato!? We just finished a three-course meal with appetizers and a bunch of wine! You can’t possibly be hungry!” He flashed her one of his beaming smiles. “Oh, I could,” he assured her, his grin growing broader as the implication of his words and the way his green eyes roved her body drew yet another of her fetching blushes. “Come on, darlin’. We’re in Italy!” He turned around once in place, his arms open. “When in Italy, you eat gelato. Besides, our meal took almost three hours. In my world, that’s time for a snack.” She snorted, shaking her head in astonishment. “I’ve no idea where you put it all.”
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Knowing she needed time to think—more time than was feasible in the hotel’s crowded restaurant—Caitlyn excused herself to shower when she and Duke returned to their room. He’d taken his shower before their meal, inviting her to join him with his most devilish smile and one lifted brow. It hadn’t been the only thing sticking up, she’d noticed. Even though she’d tried not to look. Compared to the American hotel rooms she was used to, the room she and Duke were sharing seemed positively Spartan. The only furniture in it was the two twin-sized beds, separated by scarcely a foot of space on any side, and a hanging mirror attached to one wall. Obnoxiously bright recessed ceiling lamps provided the only lighting, and there wasn’t even an option to dim them. They were either on or off as a whole, and once off, plunged the room into pitch-blackness. The bathroom though was quite nice. Spacious enough for both a toilet and bidet, with a large bowl-like sink to one side
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When Dr. Alexander Maddox was diagnosed with a stage-four, inoperable brain tumor less than six months after a one-hundred percent normal annual physical, he’d wasted no time in contacting the US government. The man hadn’t been stupid, even if he had been secretive. He’d known immediately that the quiet but substantial grant that funded both his public research—the work he did in parallel with his brilliant but oblivious wife—and the private, top secret work he did for the US military was the reason. The pair had been under surveillance for years, of course. In fact, Duke’s bureau had provided the undercover waitstaff for the couple’s intimate and private wedding reception, and a team had kept track of them at a distance from the moment they’d married. Originally, there’d been two agents—one tailing Caitlyn, the other on Alex—but when the couple had wed, the staffing had been increased to four on rotating schedules. One each to guard them during the workday at their
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“Here you go, darlin’. Try this one.” Duke set a glass of freshly-squeezed juice from the bar beside her breakfast plate. Like usual, Caitlyn startled, looking up from his phone as he returned to his seat beside her in the hotel’s restaurant. The place was packed—every table full—and noisy, the same for the rest of the hotel. So, the members of their travel tour who’d agreed to share rooms upon their arrival were still sharing rooms on their last day in Venice. After the initial shock of it, she didn’t mind. Duke was neat and tidy to a fault, but infinitely tolerant and even amused by the general shambles that occurred in her wake. They made a good team, wandering the postcard-perfect streets of the floating city, with its crisscrossing canals, museums and galleries and public squares. He followed gamely with her leading using his phone and him constantly looking out for her. No matter what it was that she suggested they do, he always went along without compl
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