Mission: Impossible to Deny (The Impossible Mission Romantic Suspense Series Book 7) by Jacki Delecki (best free novels TXT) 📕

they entered the mansion, she tried to hide her shock, but he felt her every breath as she took in the over-the-top luxury. And her reaction to Jonathan’s condescension was as he expected. Darcy didn’t suffer fools or pretensions. And he liked her for not being impressed with the manservant role and the blatant wealth and privilege.

He leaned closer to the screen to study the picture of Charlie’s red car crashed into a tree that had been published in the Palo Alto Weekly. All three of the city’s newspapers ran the same picture and the same story. “Rich tech millionaire crashes his Lamborghini. Cocaine found.” In Silicon Valley, Charlie’s death was but a ripple in the area of extreme excesses. Some of the young millionaires couldn’t handle the sudden enormous wealth and got lost along the way. It was what was assumed about Charlie. He was high and lost control of his car.

Reeves felt Darcy’s presence before he heard her quiet footsteps moving across the slate. His breath hitched at her nearness. His muscles tightened; his skin prickled with awareness.

She said nothing as she passed him. Placing his laptop on the ottoman, he stood, unable to ignore her.

“The pool is heated, but the air temperature is dropping quickly. It will be chilly when you get out.” Smooth, Hewitt. He sounded either like a weatherman or a whiny old man. The need to kiss her, to touch her, had escalated to insane proportions—watching her eyes dance with mischief, her lips compressed to stifle her laughter, her cute death stares as an attempt to discourage his ridiculous comments to Jonathan.

She was wrapped in a thick terry cloth robe, and she had tightly cinched it, emphasizing her small waist and the womanly flare of her hips. Her hair was pulled up in a twist on top of her head, suggesting exploding fireworks, all the fire spilling over and down her face.

“You’re going to swim?” Her eyes narrowed as she examined him in the only bathing suit that fit. He was a big man, and it seemed the Hollywood types were short. He tried not to react while her eyes lingered.

“Not a long season to swim outdoors in Seattle.” What the hell? Just shut the fuck up, Hewitt. Her less than enthusiastic reaction to the idea of him swimming had him spouting drivel to fill in the tension. Her lips pressed together, and her chin thrust forward didn’t take his genius IQ to read. Flirty games were done. She was back to being the distant professional.

“I can wait until you’re finished if you like. I’m looking over the news clippings of Charlie’s accident.”

“Did you find anything?” She shifted on her bare feet. He was mesmerized by the delicate arch of her feet and her red-painted toenails. Not as buttoned-up as she wished everyone to think. He bet his little officer liked racy underwear. Not the best to dwell on Darcy in lingerie when wearing nothing but a swimsuit. “Just getting started … but nothing helpful yet.”

“Tomorrow, I’d like to stop first at the Palo Alto police station. It’s a small station, so we might be able to shake out memories from Charlie’s accident. I learned from my dad that impressions don’t show up in written reports.”

“If I only had Tex’s computer or his phone. I could track his searches about Charlie. I’d know what he was looking for. Any news from your tech person?”

“Molly and the team are working on the malware. It’s a top priority for the cybercrime unit. But I’ve another team searching the security cams that Tex had just installed. They’re running his credit cards and financials. He was skilled at hiding a lot of his info. They’re checking airport manifests to run the passengers through our database for the hired hit since Santa Barbara is a small airport. We might get lucky and find who traveled to do the hit. The town doesn’t look as if it has a lot of local paid-for-hire assassins.”

“But LA is only a two-hour drive. Safer to fly into LAX and then drive.”

“I should text her to look into car rentals from LAX.”

“Go swim before the wind starts up.” What was wrong with him and his insane comments about the weather? Darcy Wilson was what was wrong with him. Her pale skin was exposed in the V of her bathrobe, and despite the thick material of the robe, the outline of her heavy breasts was conspicuous. How easy would it be to untie the robe? Didn’t she understand men’s minds? It was part of the predator gene to want to claim whatever was hidden.

“I don’t care if you want to swim laps too. The pool is big enough for both of us to stay in our lanes.”

“I promise not to cross your lane … unless you ask me nicely. Really nicely.” He couldn’t stop the husky timbre coloring his voice.

Her breath hitched before a Cheshire cat smile lit up her face. “I’ll hold you to your promise.”

Her exaggerated hip swaying as she sauntered away heated his blood to the boiling point. The woman was up to something. Was she planning on skinny-dipping? The idea had short-circuited his mainframe. He tracked her slow, seductive walk. He’d never be able to keep his promise.

She threw her towel on the chaise lounge, walking to the edge of the pool to dip her foot into the water. His heart, hammering in his chest, reverberated in his ears like a live Radiohead concert. He couldn’t look away from the drama of waiting for Darcy to take off her robe. This was better than waiting for Apple to introduce the iPhone.

With her back to him, she leisurely untied her robe and let it drop to the ground. He was paralyzed. Unable to breathe or move from the vision of Darcy in a tiny thong, her heart-shaped ass exposed. Lust, incendiary lust, swamped him as he imagined the ripe globes squeezed between his palms. Never before had a woman struck him so